#WARNING FOR SHITTY HANDWRITING OKAY!!

[tigitaldurtle]

the grumbles react. the. grankles. reacting to something. the expressions of the gornkles....

[floralcyanide]

― ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴊᴀᴠɪ

After realizing you've had enough of being single, you decide to branch out further into your romantic life on a whim. What you don't expect is to meet someone as a result. or ; In which you converse in letters and phone calls with Javi Rivera, an active-duty military man.

part two

↝ pairing: Javier "Javi" Rivera / Fem!Reader

↝ warnings: long distance, reader has anxiety, kinda slow burn?, kissing, mentions of death

↝ word count: 5.3k

↝ author's note: I enjoyed writing this so much. this is the first time I've written something this long in a while. I hope ya'll enjoy! there will definitely be a part two and it's gonna be spicy so be prepared. (;

masterlist ⋇ divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏ��ʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Your dating life has reached a new low. Tinder, Bumble, Hinge- none of them work for you despite your incessant attempts. It’s so bad that your friends have set you up on blind dates, all of which fail or turn into what people like to call situationships. You end up wasting your time on someone thinking it’s going great, and then suddenly, it ends in a fiery crash or sometimes plain old rejection. You’re so tired of dating. Even your university campus has no luck in the dating pool. But then, one night (after drinking too much box wine and scrolling through dating apps begrudgingly), your best friend has an idea.

“Have you ever like, dated long distance?” they ask, swirling their wine around their glass.

“Not really,” you shrug, taking a sip from yours, “I feel like it’d be harder than dating someone close by, which is already a lot.”

“True,” they sigh, “Ooh! Maybe use one of those pen pal apps?” 

“Pen pal apps?” you raise an eyebrow, locking your phone before tossing it on the couch in disgust, “What am I, nine years old?”

Your best friend rolls their eyes, “It’s not something just kids do, you know. A lot of people make genuine connections through letters. It’s a lot better than Tinder or some shitty dating app at this point. You may as well try.”

“I guess you’re right,” you glance down at your phone, “I’m running out of options here.”

After Googling and scrolling through search results, you hum, “Maybe I could do one of the military pen pal programs. That seems promising.”

“Yes! Get you a military man!” your best friend squeals, and you can’t help the giddy smile that grows on your lips.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you say, and your best friend shakes your shoulder excitedly, “But if it doesn’t work out, I’m just going to die alone, I guess. At this point, it’s less stressful.”

Your best friend snorts, “If we make it to thirty and we’re both still single, we could get married.”

“I love you, but if I had to spend the rest of my life with you, I’d probably go insane.”

“You have some killer jokes, kid. You’re already stuck with me, so sorry.”

That following day, you do a deep dive into all things pen-palling. You decide to sit down at your desk and type up a letter, but it feels too wrong like it needs to be handwritten instead. So, you move your laptop aside, pull out some notebook paper and a pencil, and start your first letter. Except, you aren’t sure what to say first. Then, when you start writing, your handwriting annoys you, and after that, you think your tone is off. You end up scrapping half a tree by the time you start actually writing a decent letter. You introduce yourself and state where you’re from, explaining you’re in college and what you wish to do after graduating. You don’t dive into too much detail but give enough away so your possible pen pal has something to respond to. You also sprinkle in some questions for them to answer as well. You reread your letter, finally satisfied with what you’ve written, before folding it and sliding it into an envelope. You go back to your phone to see where to send the letter, writing down the location along with your name and address on the front.

Life goes on for a little while, and you actually forget you sent a letter to some random person in the military until one day, your best friend is sifting through the mail you tossed onto your counter.

“Uhh, what’s this?” they call out from the kitchen as you surf through Netflix in the living room.

“What’s what?”

“You got a letter from some dude named Javier?” your best friend says it as more of a question than a statement.

You scrunch up your nose and eyebrows in confusion before finally settling on a show you and your best friend have seen a million times already, walking into the kitchen.

“Let me see.”

Your best friend hands over the letter, and you scan the envelope carefully. Javier Rivera. It doesn’t sound familiar to you, but then you notice where the letter is from.

“Oh shit,” you flip the envelope over and tear it open.

“What is it?”

“It’s the pen pal thing!” you say, voice raised in shock, “I didn’t think someone would actually respond.”

“Oh yeah,” your best friend nods, “I forgot about that. I figured you chickened out on it because you never mentioned it again.”

“I didn’t chicken out,” you trail off, taking in the meticulous handwriting of the letter.

Dearest Pen Pal,

Thank you for sending your letter. I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much it meant to me to receive it. I’m Javier, but everyone calls me Javi. I’m the same age as you and have been to college myself. I joined the military for personal reasons, but I haven’t regretted it yet. Your career path seems interesting, and I hope you succeed in the rest of your studies. 

Your best friend hovers over your shoulder, also reading the letter.

“He seems cute,” your best friend giggles.

Javi answers some of your random questions and goes on to say he anticipates your next letter. He also says that if you’d like, he’d send a photo of himself next time. Your best friend has a field day with that.

“Oh my gosh! What if he’s hot?” they gasp.

“Who knows? I wouldn’t care if he wasn’t, anyway. It’s cool to talk to someone I’ve never met over letters.”

“True. But bonus points if he is hot.”

You scoff as you fold the letter up and put it back in the envelope.

When your best friend leaves later on, you immediately bolt to your desk and write your letter. 

Dear Javi,

I’m glad my letter found you well. Thanks for the hope in me, I definitely need it. College is fun, but it’s super exhausting. I don’t think I asked in my last letter, but where are you from? Also, what did you major in while in school? I’d love to see what you look like and put a face to your name. What military branch are you in, and what do you want to do with your experience when you’re back in the States? Sorry for all the questions again! I’m just super curious about things. If this letter reaches you sooner than later this time around, I hope you have a great Thanksgiving.

You wrap up your letter, albeit a little shorter than the last one, and slip it into your mailbox ASAP. This time, you won’t forget you sent it.

When the following letter arrives, it’s early December. You hastily remove your scarf, coat, and wet snow boots at your front door before opening the letter immediately. When you pull the letter from the envelope, a photo falls onto the floor. You pick it up, and it’s a small picture of who you assume is Javi, all decked out in his military uniform. Okay, your best friend was right on the money, he is pretty cute.

Dearest Pen Pal,

I had a decent Thanksgiving. I hope yours was better than mine! I’m from Miami, Florida. I went to school in Muskogee, Oklahoma, and while I was there, I studied weather phenomena and chased storms. It was a whole thing, but I’ll get into that later. And I don’t mind all the questions. I think it’ll be fun getting to know each other. 

Javi explains what branch he’s in and also admits he doesn’t know what he’s going to do after the military as of yet. He talks about his Thanksgiving and wishes you a Merry Christmas if he doesn’t get to communicate with you before then. You decide to send a photo of yourself back to him, digging out your Polaroid camera when you go to your bedroom to respond to his letter. You touch up your makeup a little and make sure your hair isn’t absolutely a mess before taking a photo. Sitting down to write your letter, you aren’t sure how to react to the photo Javi sent. You don’t want to be weird, but you also want him to know that you think he’s attractive. 

Dear Javi,

I love the photo you sent, and you look pretty dapper in your uniform. I’m sending a picture of myself, too. Chasing storms sounds very interesting. Please tell me more about that! 

You rattle off some things you have done while in school, talking about the places you have traveled to over the years and the people you’ve met. You gush about your best friend, especially. 

So far, you’re probably the most intriguing person I’ve talked to, Javi. Not everyone can say they’re a storm chaser, you add. 

You polish off your letter, which ends up being two pages long (three if you count the back on the first page, too.) You neatly fold up the paper and slide it into an envelope. You don’t expect a reply until New Year because of the amount of mail that will be coming in and out of the base. Javi is stationed on the other side of the country from you and may be moved out of the country if needed. 

As you expected, it isn’t until a month and a half later that you receive a letter from Javi again. It’s a long letter- a few pages total this time. The letter is in a Christmas card, and it’s signed by Javi. You immediately hang the card on your refrigerator door so you can look at it daily. He talks about how his holidays went, how all the guys on his base called home or were able to FaceTime their family. Javi asks how your holidays have gone and showers you with compliments over the photo you sent him. You can’t help but feel your stomach flutter at his words. 

Over the next few months, you and Javi write back and forth diligently. You know just about everything about Javi, and he knows almost everything about you. You feel like there’s something he’s keeping from you, possibly the storm chasing he had brought up, but you don’t push it. He will tell you when he’s ready. And there’s also some stuff about your life you’d rather wait to explain as well. In your last letter, you wrote your email and phone number so that Javi can communicate with you in other ways. You’re able to guess how long it takes the letters to get to Javi, so around the time you expect them to get to him, you’re giddy. You anxiously await a phone call or email any day now.

It’s August when your phone rings with a call from an unknown number. You have had such a long day- school for several hours, then work immediately after in the evening. You can’t help but wonder who could be calling at 9 pm. You make yourself comfy on the couch with your favorite beverage before answering the phone.

“Hello?” 

“Hi, it’s Javi. Is this the right number?”

You nearly choke on your sip of drink, “Oh shit. Hi! Yes, this is the right number!”

Javi laughs from the other end, and you decide you want to hear that laugh again so badly. 

“Sorry I’m calling so late over there. The phone was surprisingly available, and I got your letter today saying I could call. So I did,” Javi said.

“It’s okay,” you shrug, even though he can’t see, “I just got home from work, actually. So perfect timing.”

“Great. How was your day?”

The two of you spend about an hour on the phone, relishing having an actual conversation in real time.

“I’m so glad to finally hear your voice,” Javi says after a natural pause in conversation, “That’s not too cheesy, right?”

You snort, “It kind of is, but it’s cute. I’m glad to hear your voice, too.”

After another ten minutes, Javi sadly admits that he has to hang up since it’s almost dinner time where he is. 

“We should talk again sometime if you’re able to,” you smile, biting at your fingernail nervously.

You hope he calls again, but letters will always suffice just fine.

“I’ll try my best. Maybe sometime next week?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, pulling the phone away from your ear so you can silently kick your feet in excitement.

“Alright, then. Talk to you later,” Javi says.

“See ya,” you grin, and the call concludes.

It isn’t the following week that he calls, but the week after that. Javi discloses that he sent a surprise in the letter he just mailed. He also slips up and says it’s almost his birthday, and you immediately have an idea. After your long conversation on the phone, asking some questions here and there about certain things he likes that you didn’t already know before, you decide to send Javi a package.

You send a postcard from your home state, some non-perishable snacks, socks that were his favorite color that he could wear when not on base, notebooks he could write letters in, some fun pens to go with the notebooks, and a birthday card. After signing it, you leave a lip print on the card just to test the waters. You’ve come to really like Javi over the last year, and you wonder if he likes you back. Sometimes, he’ll be flirty in letters or over the phone, but nothing too crazy. Nothing that gives you alarm bells that he likes you in the way that you like him. So, you’re taking a leap of faith. 

A few weeks after sending the package, you get Javi's phone call while doing some class work at your desk. You spin around in the chair aimlessly as you answer the phone.

“A kiss, huh? That’s cute.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little something to remind you of me,” you say.

“It’s definitely not nothing,” Javi teases, “I think you want to kiss me.”

 Your ears grow hot at the sound of Javi’s voice deepening in playfulness.

“And so what if I do? There’s nothing you can do about it,” you bite back with just as much playfulness.

“Are you sure about that?” Javi says, a knowing lilt in his voice.

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, stopping the chair from spinning entirely so you can focus.

“I’m most likely coming home for Christmas this year, but I still have to work out some stuff,” Javi says, an edge of excitement in his voice, “I’d like to possibly see you.”

“Oh,” you say, your voice squeaking, “Really? You want to see me?”

“Of course I wanna see you,” Javi chuckles, “We’ve been corresponding for a while. I’d like to finally see you in person.”

You suddenly feel like you’re going to throw up, but in a good way. You’re sick with nervous excitement. 

“O-okay,” you grin, “I’ll be finished with the semester at the beginning of December. Depending on when and where you want to meet, I can ask off from work.”

Javi has family not too far from where you live, and he wants to stop and see, so the two of you agree to meet in a city that’s basically halfway. December 20th is the day you’re supposed to meet Javi after a year of conversing through letters and over the phone. Who would have thought, right? That some random idea from your best friend would have led you here? Speaking of which, your best friend is beside themselves with excitement just like you. You called them immediately after hanging up with Javi.

“When you get married, make sure to thank me!” they say half-jokingly.

“Shut up,” you roll your eyes, trying to stifle a grin, “What if we don’t like each other when we meet, though? What if it’s awkward? What if we don’t have anything to talk about? What if-”

“Hush!” your best friend shushes you, “It will go fine. It will go great. In fact, you’re going to have a splendid time.”

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh, eyeballing the photo of Javi you have pinned to your corkboard over your desk.

“I’m always right,” your best friend giggles.

It’s now the end of your semester, and you’re beyond excited for a few reasons. In a week, you meet Javi, and this coming Spring semester is your last. So, for the time being, you’ll be finished with college. You come home from your final exam and start making a packing list. You’re staying at a hotel in the city where you’re meeting Javi for a day or two, depending on how things go. You have so much to do before going on the mini trip that if you didn’t have a list planned out for everything, your head would surely fly off your shoulders. You have to wrap gifts for your friends and family, pack your bag, clean your apartment, and put up decorations for the party you and your best friend are throwing for Christmas. 

Deciding to surprise Javi, you get him a gift for Christmas. It’s a wool sweater you think will fit nicely and a beautiful, deep color that you figure will compliment his skin tone. You carefully put the sweater in a robe box, taping the sides shut and signing your name on the tag before putting it under the Christmas tree. You managed to put up the large tree by your lonesome and didn’t kill yourself doing it, so you considered it a win. After wrapping a few more gifts and stuffing them under your tree, you check the time. It’s a little past dinnertime, and you decide it’s probably best to finally pack your bag for tomorrow. 

A melatonin gummy is definitely in your future so you can get some sleep, or else you’ll toss and turn in an anxious fit all night. After finishing up packing as lightly as you can muster, you settle into bed. When you wake in the morning, you get a text from an unknown number, which you assume is from Javi’s cell, letting you know he is getting on his flight. You almost quite literally jump out of bed before hitting the shower and getting ready. You take your time fixing your hair and makeup, picking out a cute but comfortable outfit for your 2-hour drive. 

After getting your belongings and the gift inside your car, you shoot your best friend a text letting them know you’re leaving your apartment and that you’ll text when you get to the airport. Taking a few deep breaths, you crank your car and head off. You are deep in your thoughts the entire ride, not evening singing along to your music most of the time. What if Javi decides he isn’t impressed by what he sees? You try to push away your anxiety as you near the airport. Finding parking after circling around for a while, you hurry to grab the gift and go inside. It’s hectic, considering it’s five days until Christmas, but you get through TSA without a hitch. You find the coffee shop where you and Javi agreed to meet and sit at a table in the corner. You scroll through social media, trying not to panic. You text back and forth with your best friend for a while until you receive a message from Javi saying he’s landed. Suddenly, an icy, numbing nervousness runs through your veins. You take a deep breath and tell yourself it will be okay, and everything will be fine. 

You decide to meet Javi at his gate and return to the coffee shop. Getting up from your seat, you shake yourself off a little before walking to the gate where Javi is to exit his flight. You aimlessly check your phone every five minutes out of anxiety. People start to leave from the corridor, dragging their carry-ons with them. Suddenly, you spot Javi walking out with the crowd, his face turned downward at his phone. When he looks up, he has to do a double-take when he sees you. You can’t help the grin that plasters your face.

“Hi,” Javi grins back as he approaches you, taking in your appearance fully for the first time, “Is it okay if I hug you?”

“You don't have to ask, silly,” you roll your eyes playfully, setting the gift by your feet before allowing Javi to pull you into him.

You wrap your arms around him, your nose buried in his shoulder. He’s dressed in his uniform, much to your delight, meaning you get to see how handsome he looks in person. 

“Don’t tell me that’s for me,” Javi gives you a jokingly dissatisfied look when he pulls away from you, his eyes darting to the gift beside you. 

“Would you kill me if it was?” you say, picking it up and handing it to him.

“Nah,” Javi waves you off, leaning down to dig in his carry-on for something, “Besides, I got you something, too.”

“Javi,” you drag out his name in annoyance, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. It’s Christmas,” Javi smiles, secretly enjoying how you say his name in person.

You both go to baggage claim and the coffee shop before opening your gifts. You and Javi match each others’ stride, your hands accidentally brushing against one another a few times. Finally, Javi decides to throw caution to the wind and grabs your hand, sliding his fingers between yours. You glance down before smiling at him, trying to hide how giddy you are from the simple gesture. When you arrive at the coffee shop, you sit in the same corner you were previously in and settle in your seats.

“So,” Javi slides his gift over to you, pulling his toward him, “What’d you get me?”

“Why don’t you open it and see?” you lean over the table in wait, your smile from earlier still not quite leaving your lips.

“That I will do,” Javi says, carefully opening his gift.

“This is a lovely color,” he pulls the sweater out and fully takes it in, “Very soft. You did a great job because I love sweaters.”

“I’m glad you love it,” you sink into your seat with relief.

“Now, open yours,” Javi pushes your gift in your direction with a single finger. 

“Is it going to explode in my face?” you joke as you pull the wrapping off.

“I swear it won’t,” Javi laughs.

You open the box to reveal a beautiful necklace with your birthstone dangling from the chain. 

“This looks expensive, Javi. Please tell me you didn’t spend an arm and a leg on this,” you gasp.

“No promises,” Javi shrugs, getting up from his seat and walking behind you, holding out a hand for the necklace, “May I?”

You gently place the jewelry into his palm, lifting your hair so Javi can put the necklace around your neck. His fingers brush your skin lightly as he clasps the chain successfully, “There we go.”

Javi sits and admires how the necklace falls onto your collarbone with a glimmer in his eyes, “Looks beautiful on you.”

You’re nearly this close to being on the floor, curled into an inconsolable ball. Instead of doing that, you cover your face in embarrassment. 

“Gosh, thank you for the gift, Javi,” you move your hands from your face, “I wasn’t expecting something so stunning. I would’ve gotten you something slightly better if I had known.”

“You can’t sit here and tell me this wool sweater wasn’t pricey enough. It’s okay, you know. Besides, I like giving gifts I know someone will love; the price doesn’t matter.”

You sigh, shaking your head with a smile and resting your chin on your fist, “Whatever you say, Javi.”

Javi mimics your position but reaches his other hand out to wrap it around your wrist gently, “I love it when you say my name.”

You stare at each other momentarily, just taking each other in. It had been a year of wondering what Javi was like in person- how tall he was, how he smelled, how he carried himself. You realize he has a million freckles on his face that you never noticed in the photos he sent. Javi brushes his thumb over your pulse point, and you’re close to losing your composure. You’re both so wrapped up in drinking each other in that you nearly jump out of your skin when the barista calls someone’s name for their order.

You compose yourself, but Javi lightly chuckles at your facial expression.

“I’m super awkward sometimes, but you know that already,” you try to joke about the situation instead of dying of shyness. 

“It’s okay, I think it’s cute.”

“You’re going to make me turn into a puddle if you don’t stop,” you cover your face again, the tips of your ears burning.

Javi just laughs again. You realize his laugh is better in person than over the phone.

Over your order of coffee and iced tea, you and Javi decide to have a proper dinner later on in the day. Both of you are pretty tired and would appreciate refreshing yourselves at your respective hotels first. You hold hands again while exiting the airport and offer Javi a ride to where he’s staying.

“It’s just a walk down the block. I’ll be fine.”

“But it’s cold,” you frown.

“I’ll live, I promise.” Javi pulls your head to his chest before planting a kiss on the top of it.

Your body grows warm at the endearing gesture, “See you later?’

“See you later,” Javi smiles before making his way out of the parking garage.

You immediately call your best friend when you get in the car and discuss how the initial meeting went while on your way to the hotel.

“Did you kiss?!” they squeal.

“Not yet,” you say, “I don’t expect anything to happen today. We held hands, though.”

“Spicy!” your best friend says, “Next thing you know, you’ll be having kids.”

“Will you ever be quiet?” you jokingly ask your best friend.

You take a well-needed nap after checking into the hotel, setting an alarm for an hour from the time you laid down. When you wake up, you notice it’s snowing outside. The place Javi wants to take you is a few blocks away from his and your hotels, and you figure you’ll enjoy the snow during your walk.

You fix your makeup a little and add some final touches here and there to your face and hair before deciding on one of the skirts you brought. A thick sweater and some tights are thrown with it, and you’re ready to go. Javi shoots you a message asking if you’re ready, and you respond quickly before leaving the hotel. The evening is pleasant, with the snow falling softly for the entire duration of your walk. When you arrive at the restaurant, Javi is waiting for you at the door, as handsome as ever in some black slacks, a dress shirt, and a heavy petticoat draped over his shoulders. He wraps an arm around you as you both enter the restaurant, where you’re immediately whisked away to a table with a nice view. Wine is ordered, and you take a moment to drink Javi in as he sits across from you. You nearly have to pinch yourself to believe this is real and actually happening.

“So,” you lean forward, hand tucked under your chin, “You never told me about your endeavors while in college. I’ve been dying to know about that storm chasing you brought up but never knew when to ask.”

Javi smiles, “Yes, it was a very wild time in my life. I don’t talk about it often. What did you want to know?”

“Why did you do it? Just curious.”

“Well, Javi clears his throat, “It was actually my best friend Kate’s idea. She had this big project that required extensive information about storms and tornadoes in particular.”

“Gotcha,” you lean back in your chair, “Ever see any scary storms?”

“We saw a few, but the scariest one was a five on the Fujita scale. It didn’t end very well for us,” Javi casts his eyes down.

“You don’t have to keep talking about it if you don’t want to,” you reach out your hand to put on top of Javi’s, sensing the topic is touchy.

“No, it’s something you need to know about me. So I’ll tell you,” he explains, “It was me, Kate, and three of our other friends, Addy, Praveen, and Jeb, working on the project together. We didn’t anticipate the tornado to be as strong as it got, and everyone but Kate and I ended up dying as a result of being caught in the storm.”

“I’m so sorry, Javi. That sounds scary and awful. I’m glad you made it through that,” you frown, and Javi meets your eyes for a moment.

“Sometimes I wonder why I’m one of the ones who survived. It bothered me a lot, so much that I decided to drop out of college and go into the military. I needed some stability in my life after that.”

“I understand,” you say, “We can talk about something else if you’d like. I know this is probably hard for you to think about.”

The rest of the evening is spent laughing over stories of Javi and his late friends and the ones he’s made in the military. You tell him wild stories of you and your best friend, some of which he couldn’t believe. After a few too many glasses of wine, the two of you decide to call it a night. 

“I had a wonderful time,” you say as Javi hooks your arm with his, and the two of you leave the restaurant.

It’s still snowing lightly, and the temperature has dropped significantly. You pull your coat closer to your chest. Javi notices and opts to wrap his arm around you, pulling you into his side to warm you. 

“I had a great time, too,” Javi grins. 

He walks you to your hotel, and you thank him for dinner. 

“Heading out in the morning?” you ask as the two of you stand outside the hotel entrance.

“Yes,” Javi says, his hands shoved into his coat pockets, “I’m seeing my aunt and uncle and then heading to Miami for my parents and sister.”

“That’s good,” you nod, “I am having a Christmas party with some friends and family in a  few days, and I’m looking forward to it.”

“Sounds fun,” Javi says, and you notice the two of you don’t really want to depart quite yet, but you must.

“You should probably get back. It’s getting cold and late,” you nudge Javi’s arm with yours.

“Yeah, I should,” he trails off, his eyes not leaving yours.

For a moment, you stare into Javi’s eyes, taking in their color and the length of his eyelashes. Before you realize it, you’re both leaning in. Javi slides his hand up your neck to cup your face, his skin warm despite the freezing air. He guides your face to his, his eyes fluttering shut as he gently presses his lips to yours. Your eyes close, too, and you allow Javi to take control of the kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. When it’s time for air, you both pull away.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” Javi whispers, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile.

“Same here,” you say, playing with the curls at the nape of Javi’s neck.

“I should get going,” Javi frowns, “But I will definitely keep in touch the best I can over the next few days.”

“Okay,” you say, “Enjoy your Christmas.”

Javi begins to walk away, and you turn to go inside your hotel. But then Javi pauses, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Wait, what are you doing New Year's Eve?” he asks, and you can’t help the grin that sneaks up on your face.

“Depends. What are you doing?”

“Anything with you.”

[abrcmswrld]

Talk to Strangers

Edward Nashton x Coworker! Reader

━━━━

Word Count: 4,951

Warnings: smut (18+ only MDNI), stalking, unprotected sex, angst and fluff and smut, a decent bit of tears, obligatory mentions of murder

Summary: You’ve warmed up to Edward despite his cold nature, but what happens when the puzzle pieces start to fall together and you can feel someone watching you in the darkness?

Authors Note: I actually tried so hard on this yall, I posted this to my ao3 page first so I am sorry if the formatting is all kinds of messed up on here :( This is my first fic i’ve posted since 2017 so I sincerely apologize if it’s meh, i also don’t have anyone else proofread my fics so i apologize for any errors i missed! enjoy!

Ao3 Link

He's arrogant. Oh so arrogant, and you can't fucking stand it. You watch him every morning as he strides in, past your desk at reception, white button up shirt, clear framed glasses, shaggy hair that falls over his forehead . He's certainly not a hit among the office, so maybe you're not wrong in your feelings. Though your other co-workers generally regard him as a pushover- not a self-absorbed asshole. He's good at what he does, sure. He's earned his spot, but he often brings a shadow into the rooms he walks into. A presence that you can only describe as infernal.

You don’t know much about his story. You generally pride yourself on getting to know the people you surround yourself with, but he has never let you get close enough to find out. Maybe that’s why you find him arrogant. He thinks he’s too good to speak to you for more than two sentences related to files he needs you to fax for him. What you do know about him is that he’s been at KTMJ for longer than you have been- maybe 5 years more. You can still remember the first time you met. You were fresh faced and eager. Seeking validation, in desperate need of some stability.

You extend your arm for a handshake. His hands are slightly clammy as he accepts your handshake. And though you had greeted him with your brightest smile (might as well go all in if you ever wanted to be anything other than a receptionist) he hadn't smiled back. He'd kept a rather straight face as he gave his brief introduction. "Edward."

Now you have a sense of stability. Sure, the quality of life in Gotham is subpar and you still haven't received that promotion, but you make enough to live comfortably in comparison to others in the city. You try to count your blessings.

━━━━

You had already been having a shitty day. Your landlord had informed you of an increase in rent rates by slipping an envelope under your door. Sure, it sucked to be asked to pay more for an apartment that could be deemed shitty by any normal person with a pair of eyes, but it was the lack of communication that got you. Not even the decency to call your residence and tell you with their own voice. Just a slip of paper under the door.

But you tried to bring a good attitude to the office. You hate being the one to damper the mood. You would rather leave that to him. Always him. Never smiling back at you as he walks through the door, never meeting your eyes to acknowledge your presence, nothing. And you were used to that. It would be okay, if it weren't for the stack of papers that laid on your desk when you got in. Neatly stacked with a green sticky note reading "Need copies. -Edward" scrawled in messy handwriting. You immediately feel the flames rise into your chest.

It's a quick stride from your desk to his cubicle, stack of papers tightly tucked into your fist. You slam them onto his desk as soon as you reach it, and he raises an eyebrow at you in response. "What the hell is this?" He glances at the papers and back at you. "The copier isn't working. I wrote what I needed." You sigh, annoyed at the fact that he doesn't understand.

"You couldn't have waited for me to get here and brought them to me yourself? I would really appreciate it if you would treat me like a human being every once in a while, ya know, actually acknowledge my existence." You realize how dramatic you must sound, but in all honesty you've been thinking it for years, it was only a matter of time before it came out. "I needed copies. I didn't think my acknowledgement meant that much to you." He holds his hands out in defense, feigning that he actually cared if he had hurt your feelings.

"I think you think you're smarter than everyone else here." You plant a hand on the table in front of him as you crouch to his level.

He sighs and you can see the corners of his mouth twitch. "I do. Is that so bad?"

"It makes you an asshole."

He finally faces you.

"Better to be an asshole than to be an idiot."

His voice doesn't carry any malice, yet the words feel like a slap in the face to you. It leaves you scrambling for a response, opening your mouth only to close it a second later. Until you decide to merely respond with a nervous chuckle. Sure, you thought his response showed his ego, but you had to admit. He got you. He faces you once more at the sound of your light chuckle, green eyes meeting yours completely. "I guess you're right."

You catch the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

"If it means that much to you, I will greet you next time."

━━━━

And he does. Greet you that is. You find yourself talking to him more and more. Sitting in the break room with him at lunch, looking over his shoulder at the crossword puzzle he works on at his desk and giving your best shot at an answer, relishing in the furrow of his brows as he turns to look over his shoulder at you. He's an asshole. He's arrogant. But there's something about him that's drawing you in. Sometimes you feel like a fish caught in a net. All those moments he'd brushed you off and yet you find yourself repeating the little quirks of his soft smiles in your head. You hate the term "work husband", but it seems that Edward is slowly becoming the very definition of that.

You don't speak outside of the office, but you find yourself gravitating towards him when you're stressed. You tell him about your landlord and the reason you had gotten so defensive with him. He understood.

"It's a cesspool here. None of these people actually care about people like us, not the landlords, not our coworkers, certainly not the politicians." He had said in that moment.

As October rolls around and the leaves begin to fall, you find yourself beginning to bring two coffees to work, one for you, one for him. He always shows an appreciative nod. But the moment you start to think about asking him to actually go out with you for coffee is like being the fish pulled out of the water and accepting it's inevitable fate. You were gonna let him drive you insane.

You're sure of it as you are caught up in the nerves and find yourself softly grabbing his hand to stop him outside the front doors of the office. You quickly pull your hand from his. no doubt blushed a deep red. But he just stares, waiting for you to speak. You clear your throat. "I- um- Sorry, I was just gonna see if you had plans now." And it pains you the way he doesn't speak, just continues to stare.

"There's a diner on the corner near here. I think they have decent pie."

He loosens the tension in his shoulders and looks down. "Oh. I'm actually sort of drowning in... paperwork right now." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. God, you hoped you hadn't made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

You quickly shake your head and let out a breathy laugh. "Oh no! It's totally fine, I probably have paperwork to finish too." You hope it hides the pang you feel in your chest. "I'll see you tomorrow." You swiftly turn and walk away before he can respond.

━━━━

But you wouldn't see Edward tomorrow. Matter of fact you wouldn't see him for the next three days after Halloween. You try not to let it bother you.

It's the beginning of a cold November, he's probably just sick or desperately needed a vacation. Or perhaps you'd seriously fucked it all up and he couldn't even stand the sight of you. You can't stop the deep sigh that comes from you as you rest your forehead in the palm of your hand. Embarrassingly, you ask Zach if he's heard from Edward. Not that you expected him to be particularly helpful. "Are you guys, like, fucking?" You are stunned and stammering your words. "Wha- No! No. I just worry about him."

"Look, I wouldn't worry about him too much, I mean the guy's basically a fucking recluse. When do you ever see him outside of here? Maybe it's good that he's somewhere besides here."

Still, there's no chance of you actually focusing on work and you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news headlines, before one in particular catches your eye.

'Mayoral Incumbent Donald Mitchell, Jr. Murdered in his Home on Halloween Night.'

Holy shit.

━━━━

Edward is back at work after three long days, and despite your worry of his annoyance and anger, he is oddly elated.

It's the first time he approaches your desk. Leaning against it, coffee cup in hand, and flashing an awkward smile before asking, "So did I miss anything?" It leaves you a little taken aback, but it's a relief to see him approach you willingly after your last conversation.

"Um yeah, Zach was a total prick as usual- Oh! And our mayor was murdered."

He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip from the coffee cup. You feign annoyance, "No but seriously where were you? I started to wonder if that psychopath got you too."

He smiles. "Just sick. November weather and all."

━━━━

The first time you see the green mask you are in a huddle of coworkers around a computer screen.

'Police Commissioner, Pete Savage, Murdered. Killer Leaves Shocking Confession.'

"My God. What a sick freak." Zach interjects.

You can barely stand to watch. The video is hardly graphic aside from the disturbing voice of the masked man, but the implications of what happens when the video cuts off leaves your stomach turning. You walk away. Desperate for some space, but also desperate for a distraction. Edward sits straight in his office chair across the room. You hesitate slightly before striding toward his desk and leaning your weight against it. You can feel the sweat beading at your forehead as you lightly brush hair from your eyes. "Shit."

It's merely a whisper to yourself, but he turns his head to face you. For once his face shows concern towards you. Yet he still says nothing, only looks. Observant as always.

"Sorry. I needed to get out of that." You gesture towards the group of coworkers still huddled and murmuring among each other. He glanced back, before turning back towards his work. "The news?" He inquires quietly.

"Yeah. It's a little too much for me to stomach." There's a little pause as if he is hesitant to say anything before finally replying, "They were pricks. Don't you think they kind of deserved it?"

You straighten up, looking at him with shock. "I think they were still people with families." He frowns at you before you finally walk away from his desk to make your way to the restroom. You needed to get a grip.

━━━━

Edward apologizes for his insensitivity after work. You had stayed with him outside of the building long after all of your other coworkers had left. "It's fine." You refuse to look at him as he lights a cigarette and gets in a few quick puffs. You're being mean. But if you're honest the combination of his rejection and his comment earlier in the day had set you off. "And I'm sorry for last week." Only then you look up at him.

"I've had a lot going on, and it feels a little unfair to bring you into all of that."

"This feels like an excuse to let me down easy. It's okay if you just don't want to go on a date-"

The feeling of chapped lips on your own stops you mid sentence. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes and you crave more, but he pulls back quickly. His free hand remains at your cheek, holding your face in a gentle caress. "It's not an excuse. Things are just complicated for me right now." His eyes never leave your face. It's the best look you've gotten of them. Of him. His features are gentle behind shaggy hair and acetate glasses.

Something feels wrong and eerie in the back of your mind. Like seeing him this close gave you a sickening feeling of deja vu. Things were definitely complicated. The bags under his eyes were showing his exhaustion well, he had gone from elated to unwell since his return. He seems like a broken man, but he'd never let you close enough to find out why. You can't help but feel the connection, like he deserved a shot even if he didn't want it. Even if he thought he was smarter. Even if there's a side to him that could hurt you. You push down your feelings of uneasiness.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

"When you're ready."

━━━━

You're awake nearly all night the next weekend. Spending the entire time digging through news about the figure known as The Riddler, his possible next targets, possible identities, and most importantly all of the video footage he'd put out in the last few weeks. It's certainly not healthy. You generally steer clear of these sorts of things. Years of therapy had gotten you far and you would rather not ruin it by desensitizing yourself. But you can't help it. You find yourself going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole until you find yourself tuning into his streams late at night.

He speaks with such a confidence in himself. As if he has all of the answers, and is just waiting to enlighten the world. His followers are even more terrifying. They'd do anything for him. You wonder how low a person must be in life to resort to this sort of behavior. But, you're not a psychiatrist. Who are you to speak on these people. These strangers.

"We are going to cleanse this cesspool of city."

You slam the laptop shut.

Sleeping isn't easy after this sort of activity. You should've known. You turn on a show you don't actually care about to give yourself some sense of security in background noise. And soon you find yourself drifting asleep. It's not great sleep. You can sense yourself tossing and turning, but you can deal with it. Everything is fuzzy until you find yourself on your back.

Paralyzed.

It's not uncommon for you to experience sleep paralysis, but you've experienced it less after your time in therapy. You try to keep your breathing steady, trying to convince yourself that whatever you see is merely a hallucination.

Shh. Shh. Just breathe.

But the figure that appears is familiar. That's what scares you the most. The green coat and mask is horrifying as it inches towards the bed, and you can't scream. you can't move away. You can only watch the blood drip from his gloved fingertips onto your floor as he stares. Tilting his head at you slightly, as he brings a hand up to his head. You can hear your heart pounding and you are practically internally begging yourself to wake up. The latches on his mask pop open and you're horrified to find that the face underneath is so familiar. A slight smirk on lips you have kissed before. Blood dripping from a hand that you've held before. You try to scream. Tears falling down your temples until he is suddenly gone and you shoot up in your bed.

You can't hold back the cry that escapes your throat. It wasn't real, he's gone, and you're safe in your room.

━━━━

Until suddenly the safety of your room begins to feel a lot less safe. You hear it. The creaking of the floorboards at night, the slight tapping against the glass of your bedroom window. The slight squeak of leather rubbing and rustling together. You're too scared to open your eyes those first few nights. You'd rather be blind and take your fate than die in paralyzing fear.

But you know it's him.

It was never unclear what was staring at you in the night. Maybe the nightmares of the leather gloves touching your skin hadn't been nightmares at all. You want so badly to be sickened. To run into your bathroom to empty your stomach out of panic and fear. Instead you feel a strange mixture of annoyance and arousal in your gut.

He thinks he's smarter than you.

You find yourself playing into his games.Attempting to one up him. To show him you aren't scared of him. That you can keep up. You begin to deliberately change in front of your window. Letting lacy fabric hit the cold floor and standing just a tad longer, stalling before covering yourself back up.

You hope he's watching when you peel off your work tights. You hope he's imagining himself on his knees tearing the delicate fabric from your form, only to be blocked by a thin pane of glass. You wanted the upper hand.

You hope he's watching as you sink two fingers into yourself, thinking about crisp, white button ups and clear framed glasses.

━━━━

The next few weeks are tense at work. You heard the news of what happened to Gil Colson at Don Mitchell's funeral. Edward would walk in everyday, and attempt to greet you, only this time it's you who is short. You have a little hope that he can't see straight through you. But you can see it in the way that he looks at you that you're an open book. Who's to say that he won't just watch, but actually kill you to keep you from talking. But deep down you both know your lips are shut tight.

So you work through the days, just ready to get home. You can hardly stand to look at him. It makes you feel like you're an accomplice. A sitting duck for a man who probably doesn't even care about you, withholding a tip to the police because deep down you really do like him. And you had hoped he liked you too until things got complicated. Now you think it would just be best if he abandoned you right where you were. But he doesn't. In fact, he suddenly has more courage than you'd ever seen from him. It's evident as he catches you by your arm and pulls you into the alleyway beside the office after work is over. It's dark and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared, but he kisses you like nothing is wrong. Like he has no clue. Like nothing has changed.

You pull away from him, wide eyes staring back at him. "Are you okay?" He asks quietly as he brushes a hand up your arm. You can't help the break in your voice. "I know, Edward."

He just stands and stares. "What?" You take two steps back. "You're killing people." He continues to stare. He drops his hand from your arm. The silence scares you more than anything. But he simply sighs.

"I think you should go home and get some rest."

And before you can argue he walks away with a quickened pace.

━━━━

So you do. You return to your shitty apartment and try to compose yourself. What would he do now that you said that? Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you had accused him of something he genuinely didn't do. But it didn't feel wrong. You sigh as the hot water hits your back. You had hoped a shower would help you feel refreshed, but for the first time in a while, it feels like a chore. You can't enjoy it, so you rush through it. As you step into your bedroom you stop in your tracks. The window is slightly ajar, a cool draft flowing in tingles your bare legs. And then you see him. The figure in the darkness of your room. This time you're not dreaming.

He's in your room. You're paralyzed. The position you swore you'd never let yourself be put in. He's got the upper hand.

He just stands there. A part of you wishes he would attack you. Kill you. Anything just to break the still silence. You realize you're shaking. You agreed to play his game and now you're trailing his lead, allowing yourself to be beaten.

"Edward."

It comes out as a shaky whisper, but he visibly takes it in as he steps toward you to close the distance. You can see his eyes crinkle at the corners through the green mask. He's smiling. And he reaches a gloved hand to your face, cupping one cheek. You can feel the warmth radiating from his hand even through the glove. So, he is human. The Riddler has a beating heart and flowing blood. He is not a cold, lifeless monster. His stoic frame you had become so familiar with at work was gone. He catches a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

He is terrifying.

"No more through the window. I'll be gone soon."

Before you can entirely comprehend the statement and it's implications, your brain forms the word that leaves your mouth. "Gone?"

He simply smiles again, this time reaching his hands behind his head to abandon the mask he had come in with, and there he is. Cherubic features glowing under the street lamp light that flows in from your window. "I watched you live for a month. I watched you eat, sleep, undress, touch yourself. But you knew that right? Otherwise you wouldn't have put on such a show."

You attempt to struggle away from his grasp in disgust at his words but he holds you tight in front of him. "But that's alright. I'll tell you the truth because I hate liars. I liked knowing that you were doing it all for me. I wanted nothing more than to cleanse Gotham, to give them true salvation, but you put a dent into that plan. You became a distraction that I foolishly indulged." The soft light is hitting his features just right. He looks like an angel in devils' clothing. And his tight grip is right back to a gentle caress. His hand reaches the small of your back and you're sucking in a shrill breath.

His kiss is soft, inexperienced. Much like the other times you had kissed. But he is treating you like glass that might break. You think it might be the first time you've seen him relax enough to be seen as a particularly gentle being. He's ditched his looming, arrogant behavior you're so used to just to show you his utmost affection. It's the first time you have seen him like this since the first time you had kissed.

But some part of you is burning. He's not your prince charming. You know exactly what he is capable of, you've seen it. You're not glass. You're not a damsel. This is a man who has watched you undress for him through your window for weeks. This is a man who has killed. And it shouldn't bring heat into your core the way it does. Perhaps it's the thrill of the danger.

You kiss him so hard that your teeth clash. It stuns him as his hand lifts from your body momentarily before finding purchase at your hips. He's inexperienced, but the desperation coming from both of you is enough to cover it up.

The warmth and weight of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating. The little sparks of guilt and shame that flash in your stomach are quickly subdued by his nimble fingers caressing under your nightgown and up your thighs to hook in the waistband of your panties. You can't help the pathetic moan that escaped your mouth as he slowly drags the fabric down your legs.

"I wanted to do it right. Wanted to take you to that diner, buy your food, take you home, and act like I hadn't thought about fucking you into your mattress every single night."

It's almost strange to see him on his knees. He has built himself up to be godlike. You were sure he wouldn't mind you on your knees in front of him. Absolutely worshipping him. The warmth of his tongue swiping over you has your thoughts lurching, and yes, god, he is divine.

"But it would be wrong to pretend to be someone I am not. I'm not a liar."

You can't help but tangle your fingers into his beautifully unkept hair and pull. He is ravishing you. Sinking two fingers into you until you feel the heavenly curl right into the spot that makes you whimper. "Eddie-" He swallows your moans in a desperate openmouthed kiss. His fingers are working you open, you can feel tightness build in your stomach. Like a rubber band ready to snap. But it's ripped away from you as he pulls his fingers out of you and swiftly pushes you to the bed. The sounds of his belt buckle coming undone has your heart racing faster than it already was, your stomach fluttering.

He buries himself inside of you with no hesitation, no time to adjust. It hurts and his inexperience is noticeable, but the look of bliss on his face and his slight whimpers has you ready to cum before you've even started.

You're gripping onto the back of the green leather parka, reminding yourself of who you're with. Who you're letting fuck you right now. But those green eyes bring you back to all those times he'd flash a slight smile your way in the office. He'd try to hide it but you're the only person he showed fondness towards in that hell hole of a workplace. Thinking back to the night he had kissed you has tears welling up in your eyes again. He notices.

He slows his pace momentarily, letting his short thrusts turn into long drags. A gloved hand wipes tears away once again and you meet his concerned gaze.

"Does this not make you happy?"

Your hands move to cradle his face. A move that he's certainly not used to as his thrust halt for a moment in surprise. "I am happy. But what comes after this? Am I supposed to ignore you and pretend I know nothing about you? That I feel nothing for you?" He stops his movements completely now. The room has fallen silent apart from the heavy breathing between you two.

"I have to mean nothing to you. Momentarily."

You knew the answer before you asked the question, but it hurts just as bad anyway. You don't take your eyes off his. The Riddler's facade is cracking before your eyes, you can see his eyes becoming glossy. It's almost like he's turned into a completely different person. He kisses you. Deeply, but not rough. There's so much pent up feeling behind it, you could sob even harder. But you don't and he keeps kissing you as he resumes his movements.

You're not using any protection, but you're too blissed out to care. You crave that feeling of warmth. "Eddie- I-"

His hips start to stutter as he cuts you off and buries his face in your neck. " I love you- please God- just say it back to me. Tell me you love me." You hold his face in your hands guiding his gaze to meet yours again. "Edward, I love you."

That's all it takes for him to fall apart. His whimpers and cries are like music to your ears and the feeling of warmth as he releases everything he has into you is blissful. You both have to take a second to recover, foreheads pressed together. But eventually he rolls off of you carefully and tucks himself back into his pants. The silence is deafening. You said it to push him over the edge, but was it true that you loved him? The idea of falling in love with Edward was easy in your mind, in a perfect world the idea of settling down somewhere else and waking up next to him felt good. But this wasn't a perfect world. Edward killed people, powerful people, and the chance that he'd get away without paying for it was slim.

"I'm gonna turn myself in in a couple of days."

"Okay."

"You should leave Gotham. It's not going to be safe for you here. If the cops ask you're visiting a friend in Bludhaven."

His hand grips yours as he looks at you.

"I promise if I ever get out, I'll find you."

━━━━

You do as he asked of you. Got a hotel in Bludhaven and in the next couple of nights you watched the television endlessly, waiting to see his face. The night you finally did, you cried yourself to sleep, gripping the hotel sheets as you buried your face into your pillow.

But you held yourself together and did as Edward asked.

When the man in the bat suit showed up at your hotel door a week after the flood you give your best answers.

"I'm visiting a friend, but the flood has kept me in town."

"No, I didn't know him well, we just worked together."

"I mean he was a little strange, but I never thought he would murder someone."

“I would never have expected it to be him.”

"I hope he gets the help he needs."

[undead-supernova]

Masterlist / 18+

pairings: modern!boyfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: you and Eddie are very excited to spend 4/20 together. aka just two idiots getting baked and having fun

important note: this is a silly little unserious one-off of my High Tolerance series, dedicated to the best day of the year (other than Halloween)! This could be read as a stand alone but I think my series as a whole is pretty cool and it makes me squeal and kick my feet

warnings: W E E D, just as much fluff as you'd expect, actual smutty behavior, and YES in this one they're a COUPLE now !!!!

wc: 2k

It began the moment you woke up.

At the first indication of your eyelids opening, Eddie was putting an unlit joint in your mouth and carefully sitting a party hat on your head.

“Happy 4-20, Weirdo,” he whispered before presenting you with a cup of coffee. The mug was one of those ridiculous ones from Spencer’s, with a bowl carved in for the sole purpose of smoking while drinking coffee. 

And he packed the bowl. Packed. It.

Taking the joint from your mouth, you said, “Good morning.” It was all groggy and soft, resulting in a quick yawn and your hand lazily reaching for the lighter left on the bedside table. 

“We have a full day ahead of us,” Eddie said as you smoked. “Just you and me engaged in a state of bliss.”

“That’s what she said,” you murmured, smoke escaping your nostrils.

“God, I love you,” he said with a chuckle before taking the mug from your hands. As you got out of bed, he added, “Have I said that?”

“Not today.” 

“Well, I love you,” he said again, following you as you padded through the hallway and into your living room. 

But you stopped in your tracks when you saw a shitty banner strung up on the wall. Just a string holding green balloons with blaze it written out. Oh, and one with a shitty drawing of a weed leaf.

“Okay, I can explain that,” Eddie said, stepping in front of it.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, so there were literally no banners at Walmart, so I made this myself.” He lifted his hands and gestures towards it as if he was presenting it at an art gallery. “Look at that impeccable handwriting.”

“I know, I can actually tell that’s an e,” you agreed, nodding.

Eddie grinned. “You flatter me.” 

“Also, I think I love you more,” you finally said. “Just saying.”

“Uh, that’s false,” he argued, quietly skipping into the kitchen to grab a bag. “Not when you see your present.”

“You got me a present? When?” you asked. The two of you had a rare moment of having both days off together. You’d spent that time in bed watching TV and fucking. A normal day for you now, to be quite honest.

Eddie ran back over. “Jailbait Hemp had an early morning Wake N’ Bake sale,” he explained, presenting you with the bag. “Ballsy move to get me out of bed by eight, but I did it.”

“The bravest soldier,” you said with fake sincerity, putting a hand over your heart and bowing. “I owe you my life, my lord.”

“If you keep talking like that, we may have to play maiden in a tower again.” Eddie took a step forward, one hand on your waist as he put his other over yours. Cleared his throat before dramatically tossing his hair over his shoulder. “It is I, good maiden, that has come to rescue you. To guide you to freedom.”

Matching his straightened posture, you let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, dear prince, you have gone to war for me. How can I show you my appreciation and gratitude?”

“Oh, I can think of a few ways,” he murmured with a smirk, leaning in to kiss you gently. You couldn’t help but return the smile, your palm grazing his stubble as you caressed his cheek. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the plate of cookies you’d left on the counter the night before mostly eaten. A glass sat next to it, the milk gone but a white film left behind.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you nearly moved away. But Eddie wouldn’t let you go that easily.

“Where’d the cookies and milk go, Eddie?” you asked.

“Oh, that?” he said, guilt written all over his face. “Babe, I told you Snoop Dogg would come and eat them.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Saw him with my own eyes,” he continued. “He told me to thank you for making them. He even left you two.”

“Two. Out of the ten that were left over.”

His cheeks tinged with pink as he tried not to laugh. “Snoop Dogg got up to pee, right? And then he saw all those cookies you left out and was like ‘Oh, wow, those look really good for a four-a-m snack. Thanks, bro.’”

But Eddie clearly knew he wasn’t getting out of it that easily. “And he was like, ‘Damn, your girlfriend is just so hot. Sooo sexy. Give her a kiss for me.’”

“Snoop Dogg said that?” you questioned, fighting a smile as you went to wrap your hands around his waist. 

“Mhm.”

You nodded, pulling him closer. “Every word of that, right?”

“Totally. And I told him to back off ‘cause I spent three years trying to date you.”

“Yeah, it ruined my five-year plan, actually,” you said with a smirk, lifting your hands to trace his collarbone. Eddie laughed, but he shivered at your touch. “Could you imagine still being just friends still? Today of all days?”

Eddie shook his head. “Considering I got painfully hard whenever I was around you—still do, obviously.” His eyes flickered down to the growing bulge in his pajama pants. “But I would not have been able to keep my hands off you. You, my dear, are the most outrageously beautiful being to walk this land.”

“Smooth,” you complimented, trying to slow your racing heart. “I may just forgive you for eating my cookies.”

“Remember when we decided to stop smoking?’ You nodded. “And we had an argument in the kitchen?” You nodded again. “I don’t know why, but I wanted to bend you over the counter so bad it was killing me.”

You couldn’t help your goofy grin despite the aching wetness pooling in your underwear. “That’s funny, ‘cause I was thinking the same thing.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“We were eye-fucking each other,” you whispered, letting your hand move up to caress his face again, placing your thumb against his bottom lip. Watched as he opened his mouth willingly for you. 

Eddie’s breathing became staggered, slithering his hands down to cup your ass. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t hot, though.”

“Edging each other for, what, two of those years?”

Pressing you back against the wall dividing the living room and the kitchen, Eddie slotted his thigh between your legs. Lifted one of your thighs to sit at his hip, grinding himself against you. 

Being teased was so much more intense within the haze of your high. Every movement was another wave of pleasure, tipping you further into insanity. And you could tell Eddie felt the same from the way he swallowed, clearly trying to keep his composure.

“I do have you all to myself now, you know.”

He ground against you again, pulling a louder moan out of you. You couldn’t help but push your thumb past his lips, watching his eyes roll back as he sucked on it. Swirled his tongue around the digit..

You two were a dangerous pair.

“Eddie, if you don’t bend me over right now, I think I’ll fucking die.”

You didn’t have to tell Eddie twice.

It was almost impossible how quickly he had you pressed against the wall with his cock out and your underwear shoved down your thighs. You let out a sound of impatience, turning your head to watch him pull a condom from his pocket and roll it on.

Your eyebrows pulled tight in confusion when he pulled out another small packet, this time being lube. He messily pumped it along his length. And, before you could ask any questions, he was lining himself up at your entrance and pushing in. 

And, as he bottomed out, you gasped. 

“Oh fuck,” you whined, head falling back, feeling his wild hair against your face. “Did you have a condom and lube in your pocket the entire time?”

Eddie finally thrusted into you, a high-pitched sound leaving his mouth. “Jesus, sweetheart.” He sighed. “Considering we fuck like rabbits? Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Happy 4-20,” you teased, pushing back on his cock and reveling in the squelching sound and the way his cock buried even deeper inside you.

He gasped, tightening his grip on your hips. “Happy 4-20, baby.”

It took you and Eddie about two more hours to come down from desire, the intimacy too alluring in this state. It had only been six months since you started dating, having nothing but time to make up for. And you’d tried to stop after the first round…and the second. Popped some pizza rolls in the oven and tried to put a movie on. Ended up riding him until the timer was up.

And you would never admit to immediately forgetting they were still in the oven. Though, that was Eddie’s fault for not letting you go until you finished. Always a gentleman, that one.

You ended up in a tank top and a new pair of underwear while he threw on some boxers and one of your cropped t-shirts. Cracked open your windows to air out the joint he bought this morning. Let him crank up the music on his phone as you shimmied your way around the apartment, passing the joint back and forth. It was easy to forget to pace yourselves when he was pulling you close and putting it between your lips.

And it was an easy kind of love, the kind you’d always shared. Everything felt just the same as it had, only needing to remove the tension to fully embrace it. Eddie was always touching you now, no matter where you were. Always doting on you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Steve and Robin always complained that you were lovesick idiots—and they were right, of course. Eddie was always blabbering about your shared future, all the plans that were practically set in stone now. There was no room for doubt or questions. 

“I’m gonna marry you, you know,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, one hand on your exposed hip as you swayed. “Just you fucking wait.”

“Mm,” you hummed, your content smile widening. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?”

You laughed. “Eddie, you’ve told me that, like, a million times since we became official. You already know I wanna marry you, too.”

“Well, I won’t stop,” he promised. “And we’ll have joints at the reception and everyone will dance and we’ll do karaoke and do that cake shoving thing and I’ll have the sickest vows and it’ll be ridiculously cheesy.”

“You’re gonna cry more than me,” you teased. “A big ole baby.”

He giggled. Eddie fucking giggled. It was the cutest goddamn sound you’d ever heard, knowing that he was as elated by your love as you were. Two goddamn smitten idiots. 

“It’s gonna be fucking amazing,” he said, putting the last of the joint up to your lips. Watched as you took a puff. “And we’re gonna slow dance to the Lord of the Rings theme song.”

That made you laugh which then made you cough, stepping away from him and clutching your stomach. 

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, obviously trying not to laugh. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, rushing over to chug the last of your glass of water. Just so you could exclaim, “We are not slow dancing to that.”

“Why not?” he asked, scoffing as he put his unoccupied hand on his hip. “It matches our theme.”

“Our theme?”

“Yeah, like, you’re gonna dress up like Arwen and I’ll be decked out in Aragorn’s sick outfit. It's perfect. What about that don’t you get?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, and let me guess. You think we’re gonna get replicas of that fucking ring.”

Eddie couldn’t help his goofy laughter, tossing the burnt filter onto the counter before taking your hands in his. “Was that not already established?”

“You’re the absolute worst boyfriend to exist,” you teased, moving to brush his nose with yours. Breathing him in, all hazy and at ease.

“Yeah, but I’m a great husband,” he whispered before kissing you once more.

another thanks to the lovely @strangergraphics for helping me with the dividers and the editing. you're the best I love you mwuah

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Matt Murdock’s child (Part 4)

Matt Murdock x child!reader

warnings:

a/n: thank you guys so much for waiting patiently for this!!! (except for that one anon who got an attitude with me for not writing this fast enough for them if you’re reading this, learn some manners) anyways, so glad that i finally finished daredevil, now i just gotta push through the last few defenders shows (and catch up on everything else i’ve missed in the past year. haha. fuck.

prompt:

part 1 part 2 part 3

everything was just so shitty.

you had to hold it together and pretend like your dad was just on a very long work trip

it wasn’t like you didn’t plan for this. i mean, you had a dozen notes in his handwriting ready for any occasion, just in case something unexpected happened

to whom it may concern, i have been hired by a client residing in california for an undisclosed amount of time. i will be leaving my child, y/n murdock, in the care of their godfather, franklin nelson. due to my condition, i have granted mr. nelson legal permission to make decisions on y/n’s behalf if i am ever unable to, including this period in time. if you have any questions, please call. matthew murdock.

you read that page over and over again while foggy shuffled around your dad’s apartment, gathering all of your stuff and anything of your dad’s you’d want to hang onto

“you know, marci is fixing up the guest room to be more…you. i think when you see it you’re gonna love it” -foggy

you were half spaced out trying to wrap your head around everything

and you were still so pissed off

it made foggy feel even more guilty

“i got their father killed. if i didn’t bring him that suit, given him my blessing, he’d still be here to raise his kid” -foggy

“you’re being too hard on yourself, foggy bear. the others made it out, he chose to stay. that’s not on you” -marci

“it doesn’t feel like that. i mean, every time i look at y/n i feel like they blame me” -foggy

“blame you? y/n loves you. you’ve always been there for them and they are well aware of that” -marci

you kind of hated karen for a while

i know it’s harsh, but almost every time you saw her, she wanted to give you hope instead of helping you grieve

“maybe he’s still out there somewhere, sweetie” -karen, attempting an embrace

you just wanted her to ditch your old apartment and let you move on with what you had left

on a more lighthearted note, you’d always been welcome in the nelson family

“y/n! honey, come here! lord, foggy, y/n looks like you’ve been starvin’ them!” -foggy’s mom

“aw, no, uncle foggy’s—” -you

“nonsense, dear. theo! fix your lovely [niece/nephew/nibling] a sandwich!” -momma nelson

“mom—” -foggy

“don’t even start, y/n’s in our kitchen now. the nelson meats kitchen”

you always felt best surrounded by all that love

meanwhile, your father laid in the church you grew up with. and no intention of calling you up

“matthew, your child. where are they?” -sister maggie

“they’re safe, safer than they’ve ever been” -matt

you had your days ever since midland circle’s collapse though

some days you could be okay, just getting by. you knew deep down you’d be losing him soon, and you were well prepared

other days were violent fits of rage and sorrow, punching bags and screaming and crying

and a time or two, you’d do it in front of foggy

“he left me! he left me for her and he didn’t even say goodbye! and i’m supposed to forgive him?! fuck him, he chose to do this to me, he’s a piece of shit and he i’m glad he’s gone!” -you, screaming through sobs in the middle of the night

foggy would grab you so tight and wouldn’t let go until you were calm again

and marci would cry to herself as she listened, not fully able to process all of your emotions

but she tried as best as she could, she just didn’t have the deep bond you and foggy did (but she definitely did everything she could for you)

she’d have lil lunch dates with you, just you two

“foggy tells me you got another 100 on your test? that’s always a good thing, especially in a class as tough as that” -marci

“yeah, foggy’s kind of my cheerleader when it comes to that stuff” -you

“any ideas for the day? i could take you to a salon or a game…maybe an arcade or a movie?” -marci

honestly you couldn’t express to her how much she really helped you get through the day

foggy and theo came up with the idea to hire you at the sandwich shop, that way you had something to keep you busy and foggy felt less pressured to help out there

it did help get your mind off things—until little whispers of a familiar vigilante started popping up

the day foggy found out matt was still alive…he wanted to kill him for you

“you’re back! does karen know? oh, matt, y/n’s gonna be so happy, they—they’ve been so down since it all happened—” -foggy

“slow down, foggy. i’m…not actually back. matt murdock, he’s gone” -matt

foggy started to get very frustrated by matt’s explanation

“hold on just a second here, matt. your child—for months on end—has been grieving the loss of their father, wishing they could have him back. i’ve done everything i can to keep that kid afloat, destroyed myself watching them fall apart…and you’re not even gonna consider seeing y/n?” -foggy, beginning to raise his voice and hit the table

“they’re safer without me. just keep them far away from fisk. please.” -matt

foggy didn’t even want to mention it to you. he felt awful keeping secrets from you, but knowing your father was out there and wouldn’t see you? after sacrificing himself for elektra? you’d be a mess

but it didn’t stay secret for long once you and foggy were questioned together by the FBI

you kept cool about it in front of agent nadeem, playing along just right. but once that door closed

“he’s alive?! he’s alive and you just didn’t tell me?! and he met with you, why the hell hasn’t he seen me yet?!” -you, weakly trying to attack foggy as you began to cry, he pulled you in for a hug

“i’m sorry, kid. i’m so sorry. i don’t have a lot of answers right now” -foggy

“where is he? i want to see him” -you

you knew the moment you saw him you’d unleash hell

matt did feel guilty not reuniting with you, you were his only child and you just experienced the same pain he had as a child, but he kept justifying it as “protecting you” much to the sister’s dismay

and plans were hashed not long after, you were left out of them all and put under marci’s care

chinese takeout and a tv show marathon was a great plan until you both picked up your phones, shocked to see an attack going on where your friends and family were supposed to be

you were terrified, but you saw marci terrified, too. you were there for her the same way she always was for you

things blew over, you got out of the house to clear your head

matt went back to the church, still hellbent on ending all this

“matthew…i think you should see y/n. think of all they’ve been through, to see you again would, well, it would be a blessing” -sister maggie

“i have to keep them as far away from this as i can” -matt

“they won’t get too far, being a murdock and all. it’s not just your nature, it’s the name. that name is being thrown around everywhere, maybe you could do the protecting this once” -maggie

“can’t risk it, especially not after this imposter daredevil is on the loose. no morals, no self control, he’s dangerous” -matt

“matthew, what would you do if your father ended up being alive after believing he was gone for so long?” -maggie

that happened to put things into perspective, just the one question

unfortunately he got a bit sidetracked overhearing the prayers of maggie, his mother

but matt couldn’t run or hide from you anymore, couldn’t demand foggy keep you away

so he showed up at foggy’s apartment, knocking on the door gently as he knew you were the only one home

when you looked through the peephole, you saw a battered version of your dad, nothing changes

but you flung that door open so fast and…punched him in the chest a dozen times

“you—piece of shit—motherfucker—how could you?! i hate you! i hate you! selfish asshole!” -you

he let it happen, he thought it’d make you feel better until you wore yourself out

“where the hell were you?” -you, sobbing

“doesn’t matter, i’m here now” -matt

“no, you aren’t. you always have something else come up. always” -you

what an inconvenient time for his phone to ring

you heard the message, you knew he had to be somewhere

that was the first time you felt in the loop in a while, though. hearing the message of where he needed to be. that was all you wanted, was to know what was going on. it was the tiny bit of control you needed

there was nothing glamorous about this life, for sure. the idea of him being out there still made you sick.

fogwell’s gym was the next place you saw him, with agent nadeem and foggy

“really exciting being on fisk’s shitlist, huh?” -you to nadeem, fidgeting with old equipment

“cut it out, y/n” -matt

“what? this isn’t our first time around the block, that’s why we’re hiding here” -you

it’d been a while since you’d been here, you used to hang out cuz “abandoned shit is cool”

you were currently taking your anger and anxiety out on a punching bag, revisiting your old karate lessons from way back when

*while talking testimony with nadeem and foggy* “that is…so distracting. hang on, let me just—” -matt, stopping when his arm was grabbed

“no, they need this. leave it alone” -foggy

matt sighed an nodded, feeling like he was in no place to parent at the moment

karen decided to stand with you and watch

“so…you were right” -you

“you don’t seem too happy about that” -karen

“believe me, wish i could be. but do you recognize him? like, really?” -you

“i…i know. he’s changed. but maybe once this all blows over…i think he’ll go back to himself. be a friend—a dad again” -karen

“sure as hell not to me” -you, scoffing “he’s done picking and choosing when he can be my father. i was always supposed to come first”

karen understood. she knew exactly what you meant and she felt it so deeply, but she wanted for you what she couldn’t have anymore

you hadn’t stopped hitting the punching bag as you talked to her

“can i get it a whirl?” -karen

she got a few good hits in, they were noticed by present company

from there, you stuck with foggy. the least likely of the bunch to get shot!

and court did not go spectacularly either, making you feel just as on edge as before

“y/n, listen, i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. have they ever gotten to you before? no, and it’s gonna stay that way” -matt, cupping your face in his hands to hold as if it were the last, which it was starting to feel that way for the both of you

“you’re not good at promises. you’re gonna leave again” -you, tears beginning to stream down your face

“no, no. well, yeah, for a little bit. it’s fine, y/n, we’re gonna be fine. i love you, okay?” -matt

foggy took you home and you just shut down again. and although there was a LOT of work to do, marci and foggy always made time for you

“y/n, foggy’s making dinner. you wanna help me make dessert? i’m thinking…cupcakes?” -marci

“do we have the good frosting?” -you

“of course, kiddo, i’d never let us run out” -marci, winking

she got a smile out of you and you rushed to the kitchen with her, which lifted both of their spirits of course

but nothing could be calm forever, bodies dropped every minute and you could only wonder “was that my dad?”

and lord help him, he asked for it every day

especially when, after a few more issues arose, he marched straight into the presidential hotel with faux-daredevil

“you…you keep my secret…keep away from my friends…my kid!” -matt

“heh…your kid. ever think they’re gonna follow in your footsteps? you’ll be long gone, i’ll still be here. with them. maybe they’ll be out for revenge, who knows?” -fisk

“you say anything else, vanessa goes down with you. it’s over, fisk. now swear to me, my kid is safe!” -matt

“i swear…just leave vanessa out of it, i’ll leave y/n out of it” -fisk, surrendering

you were watching the news as it happened, stunned, shocked, in awe. it was better than the last time

“foggy let me drink last time they put fisk away” -you

“jesus, weren’t you like, thirteen?” -marci “i mean, now’s fine, that’s about the age i started partying. what the hell? i’ll get the good stuff out. just a little bit though, dont get your hopes up”

(it was like four “little bits” but you weren’t complaining)

you knew it was coming and you acted surprised anyways

“y/n. i am the shittiest dad in the world” -matt

“well aware” -you, arms crossed after he started the conversation that way

“just another chance. i wanna be your dad, i wanna be there for you, you’re like, the best kid anyone could ask for. foggy’s gotta feel pretty lucky having you around” -matt

“last time i gave you another chance to be in my life, you gave it up for elektra. a second time—third if. you count law school” -you

“she’s gone, out of the picture. died under midland circle” -matt, sort of comically waving her off in front of you like he was over it

“yeah? you survived it. and she came back from the dead. how do i know she isn’t gonna pop up out of nowhere again and ruin our relationship again” -you

“i can’t stress enough how little everything matters compared to you right now. i’ll do anything, y/n. i can’t lose you again” -matt

god, you were angry with every word that came out of this mouth. same old spiel. but then again

“i don’t wanna lose you again” -you

matt grinned at you

“i bet you’re smiling back at me” -matt

“you’re on really thin ice, like paper thin. you better cut it out” -you

“that’s fair, i’ll stop…for now” -matt

you did have to go to father lanthom’s funeral, which was a drag. you may not have asked him for as much forgiveness as your dad, but he was still a pretty big part of your life

“hey, y/n. i know i forgot to mention this…but sister maggie? you know her, she’s around. i just found out she’s your grandmother” -matt

“good one” -you, pretending to laugh. matt didn’t laugh though. “you’re not joking? man, you’re telling me that nun is your mom…and you found out when?”

you all went to nelson’s meats afterwards

“so, you make a mean sandwich, i heard” -matt

“im off the clock” -you “and i don’t serve the blind”

“wow, dark! you know that’s discrimination, right? we could take you to court over that. nelson, murdock and page’s first case?” -foggy

“ok, noted. no more blind jokes…is it sound if i don’t serve vigilantes?” -you

“yeah, it’d hold up better in court. having the right to refuse service to anyone” -matt

“hold on, i still can’t get over the fact y/n just said they hate blind people” -karen, nearly snorting

“did not! i’ve only historically hated to blind people…” -you, being stared at for an answer “stick? right, you know?”

“who?” -karen

“alright, can we get back to mourning with nelson’s meats? i mean, we work hard to bury those sorrows in your stomachs” -foggy

“hey! that can be the new slogan!” -you “and your new law firm’s can be ‘we sue teenagers’”

these happened to be your people. no matter what you all went through, you always ended up back here.

BONUS

“can i meet him? spiderman? pleaaaase?” -you

“how many times have we been over this. i didn’t let you meet jessica and i’m not gonna let you meet peter, do you want me to get disbarred?” -matt

BONUS (PT2)

“you’re coming back to new york, right?” -you, over the phone

“of course i am, i told you i just owed a favor to someone out here, i’ll be home soon” -matt

“foggy says that he will take me back if you bail again, and he doesn’t care if i’m legally an adult either” -you

“well, too bad, he can’t have you” -matt

“please don’t tell me you and the she-hulk lady are quote-unquote, ‘friends’” -you

“how do you do that?” -matt

“you’re predictable” -you

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @ipurpleeyou // @nekoannie-chan // @punk-rock-raven // @evilcr0ne // @minxsblog // @v0idl1nq // @sydknee624 // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston //@multifandomfix // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @kik51199 //

[aerosolsprite]

SHITTY COMIC ALERT!

@moosemann404 part two will be uhhhhhhh soonish ENJOY MY HORRID ART ABOUT THESE TWO FELLAS! also i kinda wanna write it as a written thing but you didnt hear that from me…

transcript:

wheatley: *yapping*

doug (cutting him off): ballroom dance? you? i find that hard to believe…

wheatley (playfully miffed): “what’s that supposed to mean?”

wheatley: “but yeah, my mum and dad enrolled me for a while. to help with the clumsiness i suppose.”

wheatley (quieter, to self): “lot of good that did…”

doug (deadpan): mhm.

wheats: “fine, i’ll prove it to you. turn on that radio over there, and if you can get it to play something other than that jaunty little ditty, i’ll tell you what dance it is! go on!”

radio: *click*

wheatley: “oh, this one’s easy, mate.”

wheatley: “a waltz!”

doug: okay but

doug: let’s see you actually do it

wheatley: “easy!”

wheatley: *hop*

wheatley: *grasp*

wheatley: “1… 2… 3… 4… 1… 2… 3… 4…”

TIME SKIP

wheatley: *panting*

wheatley: *sighs and drops to the ground with a fwump*

wheatley: *rambling internal monologue that get cut off by realization*

wheatley: “oh. that’s the word i was looking for.”

wheatley: “love.”

wheatley: *shoves self up*

wheatley: “there’s still a chance. until i find his corpse there’s still a chance.”

wheatley: “c’mon, me.”

wheatley (looking badass): “we’ve got a scientist to save.”

FUCK TUMBLR FORMATTING IN ITS TIGHT JUICY HOLE anyway bonus panel and ramblings under the cut!

i really, REALLY wanted to fit this in but it didnt flow… just know it was there. IN A WALTZ YOU DRAW BOXES WITH YOUR FEET I HAD TO INCLUDE IT OKAY

wheatley’s dialogue is meant to be like how i imagine his handwriting

the brush i used for the portals is legit so cool im mad

doug is depicted like how he draws himself!

my usual art style is NOT like this but i wanted to give the vibe of the comics a little

doug’s dialogue is meant to look like his wall writings

the not-so-subtle companion cube thing is meant to look like feet dragging through the dust bc yk. its not there they drew it with their feet. except for the heart obvi.

leave it to me to leave the part i really wanted to articulate for later…

the “click” is meant to look futuristic

wheatley’s sound effects are in his handwriting

all other handwriting is sadly my own

i am FUCKING PROUD of that last page

i may redraw the bonus page once i gain actual talent

the “jaunty little ditty” is the standard radio music from the games

i KNOW wheats is being a dumbass in some of this. thats him being a dumbass, not me. mostly.

there’s dialogue i was planning to alter but didnt get around to. this will be fixed in the theoretical fic.

the “theres still a chance” bit is about finding doug and warning him about Her btw. because of where the good fic this is based on left off.

THE TRANSCRIPT WAS ORIGINALLY IN CHAT FORMAT BUT THIS WHOLE POST ACCIDENTALLY GOT POSTED IN COMMUNITIES BY FUCKING TUMBLR SO I HAD TO COPY PASTE IT

[gluion]

on the drive home ➵ ji changmin

the three times changmin thought you two would be okay, and the one drive home that made him realize he was wrong.

requested by @vernyangel for the song "on the drive home" by niki

genre/warnings ➵ angst no happy ending, established relationship, afab reader (no-gendered terms), lowercase intended, reader is shitty but changmin still excuses their actions, jiwoo is chuu btw, chanhee is the best friend who knocks sense into changmin, sadly no proper conversation about the problem happens

word count ➵ 2.6k words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @vernyangel @mosviqu

a/n ➵ took me a bit to really pump this out :') spent so long just looping this song to really get my thoughts out. i hope you enjoy this @vernyangel! thank you for always supporting me bff </3 i hope this does justice to your request, and i hope i can do well in your other one as well. please don't forget to reblog (even if it's in your tbr!)

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! want to request? check out my guidelines! masterlist

it’s a slurry of orange and red hues that cascade all over town. the buildings are only but a blur of figures that fill the windshield, and the pavements do not hold a living soul. with the windows rolled down, warm tones fill the car, the faux leather seems to glow, and the hands on the steering wheel reflect the shades of the city. 

anything but silence fills the car; the melodies from the radio are low, and the whispers of the wind hit against eardrums. but these sounds are not enough to break the tension between changmin and you.

he doesn’t bother to talk like all the other drives back home. for once, it’s quiet on his end. he does not bother to admire the hues of the sky, and he decides against commenting on the songs from your playlist. instead, he looks at you all while your eyes are trained on the road.

he leans back in his chair, head pointed to you, and takes in the sight. the hazy buildings along with the sun setting are only a background made for you, and shades of orange make your skin glow. to him, you still look like the same person he first knew—the one who transformed the meaning of home—but now, you are nothing like the one he fell in love with.

a disheveled maze, constellated and intertwined, but somehow, my favorite kind

the sounds emitting from your speaker bounce on the four walls, filling your room with the sweet harmonies of niki accompanied by plucked guitar strings. the lamp shines over sprawled notes written in handwriting only you can decipher. all while you work, changmin is lying down on your bed. his hums come and go, his attention being divided to whatever he comes up on his phone.

the familiar strumming of a guitar plays out; it’s one you and changmin know by heart. he’s ready to sing along to snow patrol, murmuring during parts he didn’t know the lyrics to. then the song is cut short; an unfamiliar tune plays out. his eyes snap away from his phone to stare at your slouched figure by the table.

“awe, why’d you change it?” he whines. not a single response comes from you. he frowns at your back but decides to not ask again. maybe his voice was too soft for you to even hear him, or you were too caught up in your work to pay attention to his thoughts. either way, he wanted to respect your study time so long as you took enough time to rest.

a bell rings out. changmin looks back to his phone to see a text message from chanhee—are we still meeting for dinner?

“hey, are you still up to have dinner with chanhee?” changmin asks as he sits up, hair ruffled into a mess, and still…

this isn’t the first time you’ve done this. you were the type to not answer if you were caught up with something. but changmin is used to it, understanding that you needed the space to focus which resulted in tuning everything out.

he stands up and walks towards you, his hands landing on your shoulders. still, no reaction. he starts to frown at your behavior. usually, you would at least acknowledge him at this point. “earth to y/n?”

a disgruntled sound leaves you as your eyes remain on your notes. you still continue to rewrite them all while changmin stands behind you. “do you want to have dinner with chanhee?” he asks once more only to be met with you shaking your head. he hums for a moment before suggesting, “do you want me to order some food instead?”

“no.” it’s the first time he’s heard you speak since he arrived.

a pout appears on his lips. “but… you haven’t eaten.”

“pointing out the obvious, mister.” the tone is harsh, enough to have him flinch. the grip on your shoulders loosened. in front of him was a version of you he wasn’t used to. it almost seemed like you were mad at him but he didn’t know why. 

you let out a sigh. “sorry, i’m just not in the mood today.” the apology that leaves your lips almost sounds genuine. “i just have a lot of things to work on, and i need to do it now or i’ll be behind.”

changmin nods before letting go of you. “is there anything i can do?” you go back to saying nothing, only shaking your head once more, and he takes it as a sign to not bother you further.

“okay,” he whispers, taking a few steps away from you. “i’ll go have dinner then with chanhee, okay?” once again, you don’t respond; you don’t even bother to shake your head this time.

he quickly types a reply to his best friend—yeah, it’ll just be us. y/n’s got some work to catch up on. he grabs his bag that rests against your bed frame and looks back to you whose back still faces him. he walks to you and faces your cheek. a frown rests on your face, clearly concentrated on the work you’re doing.

“i’ll go, okay? just let me know once you’ve eaten.” the question is soft, but your hardened expression doesn’t falter. so he kisses your cheek, lips lingering a few seconds more than usual, before saying, “love you, take care.”

“stay safe.” your response is almost soundless, but changmin catches it. he grins at your words—it’s enough to patch up the wound you inflicted moments ago. so he exits your room, leaving you the space you seem to need.

floating in a sea of missed calls and excuses

it’s cold tonight; the wind comes in waves, hitting changmin’s cheeks in full force, and the leaves rustle along. he loves it when the weather is like this; it’s an excuse to wear hoodies without having his fingers fall off. but most of all, it’s an opportunity for him to snuggle up in bed with you. he would rest his nose against your cheek and leave trails of kisses all over your collar area, only until you’d tell him to stop from how ticklish it feels.

but tonight, he stands in the dark right outside of your favorite restaurant. the luminescence pours out, the chatter from customers and staff seeps through the cracks of the windows, and the smell of dishes lingers in the air. everyone seems like they’re having the time of their lives—can changmin say the same for himself?

his eyes stare at his shared messages with you—still no response from you. a sigh leaves him.

you were not the type to ditch plans. if something came up, you would message him as soon as you found out. but now, it’s 30 minutes past the time you were supposed to meet him, and there was no message regarding your absence. so he calls you, places his phone against his ear, and waits for your answer.

it rings for a while. changmin is almost scared you won’t pick up—what if you lost your phone? what if you were kidnapped? or what if you got into an accident?

“changmin-ah!”

changmin lets out a sigh of relief as he hears your voice. “where are you?” he can hear the faint sounds of music playing from your end, but he doesn't hear a word from you. “y/n?”

“huh? oh, sorry. what were you saying?”

his eyes flicker to the restaurant sign. “where are you? i’m already here.”

“already whe—oh, there!” you cough. “i can’t make it.”

changmin frowns before asking, “what’s wrong? are you okay?”

“yeah, i just can’t make it.” he bites the inside of his cheek as he listens intently to your words. 

“but we planned this for a while now.” he looks down to the ground as he paces around, kicking a stone off the sidewalk. “we haven’t gone on a date in months,” he whispers.

“i’m with jiwoo right now.”

his eyebrows shoot up before he asks, “is she okay?” he doesn’t want to make you feel guilty if your best friend needs you. you only hum back in response. “okay, do you want me to pass by?” not a single response comes from you. all he can hear is the muffled sounds of chattering and the faint notes of whatever song is playing in the background.

“hello?” he calls out once more.

“oh, sorry! i was talking to jiwoo. anyways, i really have to go!”

“oh, okay. love—” the call drops. “—you…” the last word trails into a whisper. you don’t even bother to say your usual farewell.

he bites the inside of his cheek as he looks down at his phone, looking back at his chat with you. as he replays the conversation, a prickly feeling consumes his heart—enough to form cuts on the organ but not enough to stab it all the way through.

the next thing he knows, he’s calling his best friend. two rings later, he picks up, even faster than you did. “changmin-ah?”

“hey, chanhee. have you had dinner?” changmin asks as he walks into the restaurant. he quickly tells one of the staff his name for his reservation.

“oh! i was about to.”

the waitress signals that they have his table, and so he follows her to where he’ll be seated. “okay. do you wanna have dinner with me?” he asks.

as they arrive at the table, he notices the setup is nicer than usual. a candle sits in the middle of a pile of fake rose petals, and a bottle of your favorite wine in an ice bucket standing beside it—they’re all special requests made by him just for you. so he signals to the waitress to clean up the roses and remove the candle. the wine that was meant to be shared with you will now be shared with his best friend instead.

“huh? i thought you were going on a date with y/n.”

changmin sighs before taking a seat saying, “something came up. they’re with jiwoo right now.” he watched her clean up the table, leaving the two sets of tableware untouched.

a beat passes.

“okay,” chanhee whispers back. “i’ll see you at that restaurant, right?” and changmin only hums before hanging up on him.

when his best friend arrived, changmin smiled at him. thankfully, tonight’s reservations would not be wasted. but for the rest of the dinner, changmin avoided talking about you.

i sit here with glistening eyes as the stripes on my back chip and dry

changmin stands outside of the door, a plastic bag full of your favorite takeout food in his hand. tonight was supposed to turn out right; come home with boxes of chinese food and spend the rest of the time talking about nothing or everything—whichever you wanted—but he doesn’t know where he went wrong.

the door swings open and it reveals his best friend. confusion paints chanhee’s face, but changmin grins as he raises the bag up. “i brought some food if you haven’t eaten.” the smile on his face is bittersweet. no matter how many times he may try to play this whole thing off, chanhee knows his best friend.

so chanhee only nods and steps to the side, letting him into his apartment. it’s instinctive for him—go to the kitchen, remove the food, and microwave it. so chanhee goes to the fridge, pulls out two cans of beer, and sets them on the table. as soon as dinner is ready, the two sit across from each other before digging into the meal.

from how changmin looks, it seems like he isn’t up to talking. all he wants to do is eat in silence, but chanhee knows it would be wrong to leave this situation hanging in the air.

“so, what’s up with you two?” changmin looks up to see his best friend whose eyes are on him as he slurps up some noodles.

“what do you mean? everything is fine,” he shoots him a smile before grabbing some beef and broccoli. as he chews away, chanhee sighs as he shakes his head.

“you know that’s a lie.” his best friend is always the type to be straightforward. if changmin was wearing an atrocious outfit, chanhee would let him know. if he was overreacting, his best friend would knock some sense into him. but most of all, if chanhee smelled bullshit on changmin’s end, he would call it. chanhee believes that his best friend’s situation is no different.

so chanhee asks, “what happened tonight?” but changmin refuses to answer, letting the silence take over—it’s enough to speak for him. he bites the inside of his cheek, drops the fork on his plate, and rests his arms on the table. as he looks intently at changmin, he says, “i think you need to talk to them.”

changmin rips his gaze away from chanhee, looking down at the food that he moves around on his plate. usually, he would listen to what his best friend would have to say, but now, he wished he could block him out.

“i wouldn’t talk about it if you didn’t want to,” chanhee starts off. “but i can’t stand watching this unfold any further. i don’t want you to keep getting hurt.”

changmin only sighs as he continues to play with his food until he feels his best friend grab hold of his hand. he looks up to see chanhee whose face is painted with concern. “i’m serious.” it’s a testament to the gravity of the elephant in the room you and he share. “this isn’t healthy, and you know that.”

changmin wishes he could retort back—you two were only going through a rough patch because of different schedules and priorities. if chanhee dissed his outfit, he would defend his fashion choices. if his best friend thought he was overreacting, he would justify his behavior by pointing out the circumstances that brought this reaction.

but the only time changmin could never defend himself is when chanhee calls bullshit on him, so he chooses to stay silent. he doesn’t try to argue with his best friend. instead, he only eats his food and hopes that this will pass—you two will be okay.

but for now, the night is young, and you are here, and snow patrol just came on the radio

changmin breathes in the sight of you, almost like it’ll be the last time he’ll ever see it, and bites on his tongue. the words shall remain unspoken. but a familiar song starts to play out, a shared favorite between you two, and he cannot help but feel his sentiments start to spill out.

“it this the end?” the question is almost soundless but he knows you hear it over the vocals of snow patrol. your hands grip on the steering wheel, and you swallow down nothing. still, your eyes remain on the road.

changmin hopes you shake your head, telling him that everything is fine, or maybe even ask what he’s pertaining to. he wouldn’t have it in him to let go of what you two formed together—a home in each other in a town that never did justice to the term. he’s only learned what it means to have one through you because you built it with him. any other response would be fine so long as it wasn’t an affirmation of his fears.

but the worst came like the breeze that hit changmin’s cheeks—you nod without sparing a glance. with a simple nod, everything he knew disintegrated.

you held the sledgehammer and swung it against his heart made of glass, and the shattered pieces fling against the wall. that action alone should be enough for him to feel anger, despair, sorrow. but he’s okay with picking up the glass shards, left to clean the mess you left because you’re still home to him even if he may not be yours.

without uttering another word, he lets his eyes drift to the road—this will be the last time you two go on the same path. but for now, he’ll remain content with his last moments with you.

if you enjoyed reading this, please reblog!

[vee-crytraps]

Good Luck, Babe! | Ch 1-7 | Ice Cream for Breakfast

{Trigger Warning/Themes Masterlist} This is split into a billion parts because it's long as hell! Read on Ao3 to avoid the headache!

With only one look, you can tell that the question is rhetorical. Damian seems to have put this situation together much quicker than you had. You find yourself a little envious of his talents, but you suppose reading people was a major part of the whole ‘ex-prince of the assassins’ thing. The green in his gaze seems even more unnatural as it reflects the light in the darkness like a cat as he fixes Silas with an impatient stare.

Silas loosens his grip on your wrist, but doesn’t drop it as he catches your eye.  He mumbles your name, desperate for an answer. “…No.” You manage. “I don’t feel that way about you, Si. I’m so-“ Silas breezes past you without another word, and your own gaze seems stuck to the ground. 

Peeling your bracelet off of your wrist, you chuck it into a nearby trashcan. — “I’m sorry about your friend.” Bruce gently shoulders your bedroom door open, a stack of two large boxes in his arms. Ace is at his heels, padding in behind him. He sets them down near your desk, and you can hardly look him in the eye as you pick at your nails. “I’m not really in the mood for presents, dad.” Damian hadn’t let you leave that roof without prying all the dirty details from you. Your friendship with Silas, the fact that you’d hooked up with him for ‘the sake of getting it over with’ and his subsequent unrequited feelings. You don’t know how much he’d told Bruce, but you don’t regret your choice to have your first with someone you trusted. At the time anyway. Whatever Bruce may or many not know, you know that you couldn’t stomach being on the receiving end of a lecture about the ‘optics’ of your unconventional relationship and rooftop argument with Silas. “I have a feeling you’ll be in the mood for this one.” Taking the initiative, he steps back to the boxes. He offers Ace a nod of permission, allowing the dog to hop onto your bed to rest his head in your lap. Bruce carefully pries open the cardboard, producing something that appears to have been sitting at the top. He holds an electric blue envelope that has your name scrawled across the back of it in handwriting you hadn’t seen since you were six. “What’s this?” “Your last present.” Setting the envelope into your hands, Bruce leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight. And happy birthday.”

— Princess! Happy birthday! You’re 18 now, and all grown up. I shudder to think of all the hell you’ll raise. If you turned out anything like me, give my condolences to B. I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you,, but I do know you’re in capable hands. Bruce might not be the best father figure in the world, but despite his icy exterior, I’d never met a kinder soul. Everything he does, he does with good intention. Trust me when I tell you that I would have never left you with someone I didn’t know inside and out. Not to sound like an old biddy arranging a marriage, but Bruce Wayne will do right by you. I can feel it in…what’s left of my bones. Is dark humor still a thing? It’s okay, you can laugh. Don’t feel bad for me, sweetness. And don’t go wasting your life in mourning, haunting Wayne Manor in my memory like a certain specter we know and love. You can probably recount how I want you to remember me. Awesome. Loud. Full of life. Just incase you forgot, I’ve got a few of my diaries and junk journals from when I was about a Junior in high school til about when I had you. If it’s not something you’re into, no worries. You can just hand them back to B, and he’ll probably give them an ISBN and hoard them in his creepy study. Being a woman is…it’s tougher work than they make it sound. And while I absolutely don’t recommend taking life advice from anything written by my hand, I was just hoping that it’ll give you something to relate to when you’re overcome by that shitty teen ‘lost and alone’ feeling. It won’t last forever. I promise. Until then; good luck, babe! XOXO mom. 10.25.12

Chapter 2

[sometimesraven]

any writing advice for someone writing their first novel? (*cough, cough, aka me*)

<3

Disclaimer: what works for me might not work for you, so feel free to take, twist and scrap whatever you need. I recommend asking/shopping around for ideas and other authors' processes, and it'll take some trial and error before you find what works best for you. But here's how I personally write.

Disclaimer disclaimer: this got real long while I was writing it and I realised how terrifying it must look to a first time writer. Take it step by step, at your own pace. It's not as scary as it looks xx

BEFORE YOU WRITE

(I'm going to be focusing on the story itself, but I'm sure it goes without saying that you should have your characters planned out first)

First things first: have a basic idea of the story beats. It doesn't have to be a Big Old Detailed Outline, just a basic compass to keep you going in the right direction so you're less likely to hit a roadblock. Personally I use the Plot Embryo! Here's my favourite video explaining it:

It's a nice simplified, easy to use tool for plotting. Here's a page from one of my journals breaking it down in a way I can personally come back to and understand:

hopefully you can read my shitty handwriting but I've put a little breakdown in the image description.

I then use these prompts to scribble down the basic idea of what journey I want my main character/s to go through, and use that as my blueprint for when I write.

WHILE WRITING

First things first: if you're like me, and seeing errors or plot holes in the stuff you've already written will bug you forever, do what I do and NEVER READ BACK OVER YOUR WORK WHILE IT'S STILL IN PROGRESS. Sometimes I have to skim back to remember where I am but as a rule, once something is written it's no longer my problem until the whole thing is done.

Don't worry about chapters and other such structure. I use the plot embryo to split things up so I know where I am, but otherwise chapters and scenes Do Not Exist until the editing process. Here's the "chapters" of a WIP as an example (this is a slightly different embryo adapted for romance but you get the idea)

Then just keep going until you're done. You don't even have to do it in order. If I'm stuck on a scene, I'll just put a big word in all caps that I can ctrl+f easily (usually either ELEPHANT or PENIS sklfsgskjf) and move on to the next bit I have ideas for, then come back to it later.

This first finished story will be bad. It'll be rough, patchy, full of holes. THAT'S OKAY. This is what we sometimes call the "Zero Draft". The draft that literally exists just to get the story out of your head to make the whole thing easier.

EDITING

Warning: editing is the longest, hardest part of writing a novel. Your book will go through several different versions, be scrapped and torn apart and put back together again. This is what makes the story great.

This is where every author differs, and there's a whole bunch of ways this can go. Personally, the first thing I do once the zero/first draft is done is put it down. Don't look at it, don't touch it, don't think about it. For at least a month. This allows you to come back to it with fresh eyes that haven't been staring at the same words for so long they just hate the whole thing regardless (and you WILL HATE IT. This is normal).

Then, the first thing I do is read back over the whole thing, adding notes and reactions as if I am a reader. If a part of what I've written makes me go 🥺🥺🥺, I'll write that down. If something could be worded better, I write that down. If you think a certain thing that you would put in the tags of a tumblr post, write it down. Treat it like you're someone else's beta reader, note down every negative, every positive, every ???? part. This will give you an idea of what is and isn't working. Here's some of my funniest notes from my zero draft of book 2 just to prove how literal I'm being here:

Then, and this is a controversial move that doesn't work for everyone but it works for my autistic adhd self-loathing brain: WRITE THE WHOLE THING AGAIN. FROM SCRATCH.

This sounds daunting and it is, but you've already written it once, so the second time is easier. Usually I don't worry about making this perfect because again, this is just another draft. I'll copy from my zero draft anything that I think is fine and write new bits or scrap bits as I go.

Sometimes, the story is fine. Sometimes this is an easy refining process. However, if you're anything like me, sometimes the whole thing is messy and you'll realise halfway through rewriting that the whole thing needs restructuring. Do not despair. This is normal.

I'm using book 2 of the Truth Saga as an example for this. I got 40k words into rewriting it before I realised that the reason it felt so 'off' was because the whole thing was sagging in the middle, characters were being left behind, and the whole thing needed restructuring.

It was a rough realisation, as Reckless Truth (book 1) was such a comparatively easy process. I only did three drafts and didn't have to restructure much. Book 2 is giving me so much grief and I'm gonna slap it when it's done.

If you hit this roadblock, it might be time to do what all mood writers hate. Detailed plotting. Go right back to basics. Write down every plot point in detail this time. Act like you're spoiling the whole entire story for someone. Have you ever watched a movie or book review where the reviewer does a full breakdown of the plot? Do that. In this you'll find out exactly where you're going wrong and be able to tweak and fix it. If you have more than one main character, I recommend doing a separate plot thing for each of them and one for the book as a whole so that you can make sure their emotional arc is getting the attention it deserves.

Then, when you're happy with the new plot you've written based on the draft of your story, go back and try to rewrite it again. If this sounds like a nightmare, it is. But it's worth the work, I promise.

From there it's a case of rinse and repeat, reread, rewrite, re-edit until you're mostly happy with what you've got. Then send it to beta readers and editors to tear apart even more and put it back together until you think it's ready! I also recommend joining some writing discords, watching streams or videos about writing, just research research research basically

Happy writing!

[manjiropie]

Yessssss your request are open thank god 💖🙏😭

I've been thinking for this for a whole night, I swear this so called Haitani Brothers wont leave my mind. So can I request for Haitani brothers x big sister reader who protect them from their abusive father when they are little, and when they're grow up they make it their duty to protect their big sis, simply to say thats the kinda thing they could do to repay her. I just thought that haitani brother have a shitty toxic father, thats why they're so cruel and ruthless. Poor baby 😭

You can make it fluff or angst (pss the big sis ended up dying) anything you prefer it to be. Its also up to you if its gonna be hcs or scenario.

Thank you for letting me request honey boo! Love you and stay safe 💜💖🧡

I thank you for this. I loved writing it and I'm sorry for taking so long to do it. be aware of the warnings, tough topics ahead. lowercase indeed.

warnings: toxic household, physical & non graphic mentions of sexual abuse, violence, death, strong language, gun, child abuse

Until hell freezes over.

man. let me tell you, shit's never been easy in the Haitani household. you want to know why ? well, I'm the firstborn to two stupid and reckless people. my mother left us with our alcoholic daddy as soon as she gave birth to her third child– Rindou. Ran is the middle child, bless him. our father is a complete scum, he's never cared. when mother left, his bottles were his only company and no one else around was important.

I'm three years older than Ran and Rin, nevertheless we were inseparable growing up, like– inseparable.

our dad, like I said, has never showed empathy or 'love' like parents are supposed to. on the contrary, all he gave me were 'lessons'. beatings, to be exact. oh, I didn't cook dinner as he liked it? a punch. hold up, he spent the whole day out pissing himself and the house wasn't shining when he came back? he'd take off his belt. from a very young age I memorized every tiny movement of his and what they meant.

"your body is a masterpiece, you're a painting"

people preach self love out there. I must've been a really good painting growing up, purple and yellow and black bruises all over my body.

I'm a masterpiece of agony and torment.

I went through hell growing up. I was the main target for my father's punishments because I'd refuse to allow him a hand to lay on them. of course I wouldn't reason with my father, I was too scared to do that. instead, I would jump in when I saw him arguing with Rindou because he didn't have the best handwriting or when he'd shout at Ran just because he didn't know where my father's favorite boxes were.

I swore it myself to protect Ran and Rindou until hell freezes over.

"why don't you run away?" that's what my teacher said once when I was on my first year of school. why don't I run away? why didn't I? the opportunities to flee were countless. it'd be undemanding to go by myself and find someone far away that'd melt in pity and would take me in. but I had two younger siblings.

everytime I'd feel scared for my life, I'd run to my room and take Rin and Ran with me, sheltering them under the bed before father started his 'late night show' with me. the way their eyes would widen and tears start appearing in the corners made my legs fail and I'd hold their hands tight.

I remember one day that was one of the worst for me. I was eight while Ran was five and Rindou only four.

"Nothing bad will happen to you, okay? Not as long as I'm here." my voice harder than my thoughts, all I could think about was having them there and not let that man in.

Ran's eyes prickled with heavy tears. " What will he do to you?" he had asked. my tongue felt thick and I couldn't swallow. then Rindou's skinny hand pressed to my arm. I look at him and he's wearing an expression completely different than Ran's. once Ran was at the verge of tears, despair and fear, Rindou had his brows knit together and his small tired eyes looked at me fiercely.

" I hate daddy." he whispered and Ran wiped a tear out of his red cheek.

" I hate him, too."

~

but, you know, although we didn't have the best upbringing, every now and then I'd manage to sneak my little boys out of the house and provide them a little sample of what a normal childhood would taste like.

these are the few and only memories that I cherish of my life. these brisk moments where, somehow, we'd manage to forget about our fucked up dad.

" Come on, boys! The last one to get there is going to eat cold dinner!" we ran to the playground near the parking lot. I held my dress down as the autumn breeze hit my face and messed up with the hair. Ran was fast but not as fast as Rindou. that boy was something else. he was faster than both of us and he was the younger.

that day we had spent the whole noon in the slides and the swings. Ran fell and screwed up his knee, we'd have to find a way a hide that from dad, but at that moment we didn't care. all we cared about was ourselves.

I sat down to catch my breath and watched the two going up the ladder and then sliding down. I smiled to myself. it wasn't often I heard them laughing. I loved their little smiles. they never smiled in front of dad, though.

but lately I've been noticing that as we grow up, their eyes get sadder and their cheeks don't get that simple shade of faded pink and they don't even joke between themselves. have i failed? was this effort I've been putting all these years... in vain? it were minimum the times when the monster actually beat my brothers. so I guess that I succeeded. guess no matter how much I tried I couldn't change the ambience.

part II here! reblogs and likes help insanely. thank you <<3

[quietlyimplode]

Drabble. (Just under 300 words)

No warnings. May continue this later. Likely fluffiest thing I have written in a very long time. Take care of yourselves; self care is important.

.

2.47.

“Natasha, your alarm,” Clint pokes her carefully, trying to get her attention.

The phone keeps bleating and he moves to turn it off, hitting snooze on the alarm that feels seemingly random.

She looks up from the paperwork, and nods her head, “okay, okay.”

He frowns.

“What’s the alarm for?”

Natasha’s handwriting loops on the final word, as she grabs her phone, and resets the alarm.

“What’s the alarm for?” he repeats.

She smiles.

“2.47.”

It doesn’t clear anything up for Clint.

“Stephanie’s idea.”

The shield therapist has lots of ideas, some good; some shit, so this doesn’t help clarify things any further.

“2.47?” he questions, dubiously.

Natasha nods.

“She said that there’s times where you just need to make some time for yourself. It doesn’t have to be long, or do anything meaningful, but time to take stock, maybe drink something or eat something if I hadn’t, talk or message someone; but to make it intentional. She said pick a time, any part of the day, and make it mean something. So..”

“2.47,” Clint finishes.

She nods again, grinning as she passes him a biscuit.

“How’s that going for you?”

Natasha shrugs, “okay I think, except that yesterday it went off in the meeting and Fury got shitty about phones being in the room.”

Clint laughs.

“Okay, so 2.47, what’s the plan for today?”

She hands him another biscuit.

“This is it, we’re talking, eating. The meets criteria.”

He has to admit that he likes the simplicity of the idea, and the way that Natasha seems taken by it.

“2.47,” he mutters to himself, mulling it over.

“What’s your time?”

Natasha munches on a biscuit and offers another.

“I dunno.”

Clint looks at his stream of alarms contemplative.

“I dunno.”

.

[nicka-nell]

Osamu's route

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Pairing: Osamu x reader (main route), Atsumu x reader

Genre: Social Media-AU, text

Warning: mdni, angst, mention of alcohol and smoking

cold hands: 2021/08/29 - Sunday

Actually, Atsumu doesn’t want to leave you alone. Especially not to look after his brother, who had done nothing but bullshit lately. Everything Atsumu had warned him about. Hissing, he buries his hands in his jacket pockets, lets the small plastic bag with headache pills and a gas station sandwich dangle down his wrist as he stomps on the store and curses Osamu for not answering his cell phone.

But when he arrives in front of his shop, he frowns. Something’s wrong here. The curtains are all closed, and there’s a note with sloppy handwriting on the door. “Closed for renovations.”

“Are you kidding me, ya shitty brother?” Atsumu complains and knocks loudly at the door, but nobody opens it. Rolling his eyes, he digs out his keyring, searches for the key Osamu once gave him for emergencies, and opens the door.

“Osamu you fucking donkey,” Atsumu is about to say, but he gets silent at the sight of the store. Again, he calls his brother’s name, but he does not answer. Little by little, he tries to find a way through the mess, trying not to step into any broken glass and looking for his twin.

He’s not in the kitchen, not in the apartment. Atsumu wonders if he’s still here, or in some store to drink and fill his body to the brim with alcohol. He could only be behind the store now, but why would he be there... Safe is safe. Even though he is convinced that he will not find Osamu there, he opens the door to the backyard and looks if he can find his brother.

In fact, he does not have to look long, because he almost stumbles over him as he squats like a heap of misery on the stairs, his arms bent on his thighs with a bottle of alcohol in his hand. To his left he already sees an empty bottle of whiskey, an almost empty pack of cigarettes and wonders what this fool was up to with it.

“Hey, you freak, ya want to drink yerself to death?” Atsumu shouts at him while he hits him with the flat hand strong in his neck. Other than usual, Osamu does not jump up to kick him, no, he simply remains there, scratches the red spot on the neck, on which Atsumu’s handprint quickly forms, and gives only a quiet “ouch” of himself. Atsumu clicks with his tongue before he goes back in saying nothing and looks for an unbroken glass to fill it with water and bring it to his twin before he sits down next to him on the cold floor.

“Drink, you fool… And don’t turn towards me, ya stink like a whole pub.” Says Atsumu, who pushes the glass into his brother’s field of vision, followed by the bag with the sandwich and the headache pills. Osamu looks sceptically at his brother before opening the bag and sees what’s inside. Again, his voice is quiet, broken when he takes the things out, swallows a tablet with the water and starts eating the sandwich.

He looks tired, done with everything. His eyes are red and Atsumu sees that they are slightly swollen. Did he ever see his brother cry? He only knows swollen eyes from you. You only have them when you’ve been crying.

“You want to tell me what happened here?”

“Why are you here, Tsumu? You’re here to see how fucked up I am.”

“Tz, I’m not Suna, okay? Am I mad at you? Hell, yeah. But I’m still here to kick yer ass as your big brother… and also to say told ya! What do you want to do with the alcohol? What about these cigarettes? Do you even know how to smoke? Shit, ya wanna kill yourself because yer ex ran to her old lover again?” Says Atsumu before he takes the bottle and the rest of the cigarettes from his hand and puts them far away from Osamu.

As their hands briefly touch, he feels his brother’s freezing cold. He hasn’t been sitting here for a few hours. Has he been out here since last night?

“So you already know… Are you happy now?” Osamu sighs bitterly, who leans back against the brick wall and looks up at the dark sky before taking the last bite of the sandwich, the only meal he had eaten today.

“I’d be lying if I said no. I told you from the start, but that doesn’t matter right now.” He knew that Watanabe was a false snake, but that she would demolish Osamu’s store like that? At least he thinks it was Watanabe, Osamu will hardly have destroyed everything here himself.

“How long have you been out here?”

“I don’t know what time is it?” Osamu says, who had not looked at his mobile phone since he came into the shop, actually no longer knows where it is.

“Late…” Atsumu replies, wondering what more to say.

“Does Y/n know about everything here?” Osamu wants to know, turns his head slightly to the side. His whole body is numb, much too cold, and he can hardly feel his fingertips, but he hears his heart beating faster. With every beat, he gives his body a new sting just at the thought of you.

Seriously, Atsumu leans backwards, looks at the man next to him a moment before he speaks. “No… She doesn’t know that Watanabe left you… All she knows is that I’m here to check on you. She thinks you have a headache.”

“I see… Hey uh, I’m glad that you two are together… I’m sure you can make her happy, not like me. She definitely deserve better. Good, that it’s you...”

Osamu’s smile is sad, yet somehow honest, at least Atsumu imagines it. If only he knew… He never lied to him when he told him you were just his best friend. He’d rather see you as his little sister, a part of him he wants to protect with all his power.

“We are not a couple, you idiot. Now get up, and let’s go in and sleep a bit… After that, you’re gonna take a shower, start cleaning up the mess, and start thinking about what ya did wrong and how you’re gonna fucking apologize to Y/n. Got that?” Says Atsumu, who gets up and knocks his pants clean.

Confused, Osamu looks at him, can’t quite understand what his brother just said.

“What do you mean, you’re not a couple?”

“Well, just like I said.”

“But the kiss…”

“You mean the one we only shared because Watanabe made me to, for a stupid game? Come now… Or I’ll go in without you.”

For a moment Osamu is relieved, notices his chest relaxing at Atsumu’s words. But the joy doesn’t last long, because what good is it if you two aren’t together? Osamu would never be able to properly apologize for everything he’d done to you. There is no adequate excuse for all this. He had hurt you so much, it would be better for you never to see him again, to live a life without him. You just deserve the best, and that’s not Osamu, he knows.

“There’s no excuse in the world I could give her, Tsumu. I totally screwed up, and that’s an understatement.”

“Maybe it’s too late for a relationship, I don’t fucking know, but it’s not too late for an apology. You, of all people, should know, Samu.” When Atsumu interrupts his sentence, he reaches out to make his brother understand once more that he should rise. Sadly, Osamu looks up, as he silently thanks him and accepts the hand that pulls him up.

Through all the alcohol in him, he staggers, when Atsumu catches him and wants to help him get in while supporting his weight, but instead of following him, Osamu embraces his brother. Something that happens very rarely with the two of them. His embrace is firm, yet he trembles all over his body.

At first Atsumu thinks he’s just cold, but his sniffing tells him that he can’t keep his feelings to himself anymore. Osamu is grateful to his brother. Because even though he should be angry, he’s standing here, stopping him from doing things he might regret later. He’s there for him, even though he didn’t deserve it for a second.

“Thank you”, he says quietly, before feeling Atsumu patting on his back, notices him detaching himself from the embrace and putting Osamu’s arm around his shoulders.

“It’s okay, let’s go in now…” He only replies before he enters the store with him, goes upstairs to the apartment, which fortunately isn’t as devastated as the rest of the store, before he drops him on the sofa in the living room, puts him a glass of water and a handkerchief box on the table, and sits next to him. He’s just sitting there quietly while Osamu melancholy tries to explain what an asshole he was to you and how much too late he realized he loves you.

Taglist: @xmyshya @boosyboo9206 @alienvarmint @namyari @koukamisblog @zlatanakermann @bloombb @tia827 @creepykawass

[thirsty4villains]

Bound | A Loki x Reader Fanfic

Rating: E  

Warnings: Eventual smut, human sacrifice, torture, blood and injury, violence, angst

Tags: sharing a bed, slow burn, eventual romance, fix-it, canon divergence of Avengers Infinity War/Endgame, humor, limited use of Y/N, action and adventure

Summary:

A year has passed since the Snap. As you look to find a fresh start in life, you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. A small cult dedicated to the newly revitalized Norse religion chooses you as a sacrifice with the belief that this will give Thor and the other gods the strength to undo what Thanos has done. What you don't know is that human sacrifices come with a powerful magic — those who are sacrificed become linked with the god they have been given to.

It's been a millennia since a human was sacrificed to one of the gods. You've been bound to Loki.

CHAPTER 5

At some point while you were asleep, Loki apparently stopped by your room because the following morning a letter was slipped underneath the door. Whether the letter was a result of his insomnia or antisocial nature, you weren’t sure. When you unfolded it, the handwriting was neat, the letters penned thin and close together with a particular Loki flair to it. The message was short and concise.

Come out to the fields on the east end of the hall by nine. You will find me there. Do not dawdle.

Nine o’ clock? There wasn’t a clock in your room. You looked out the window. The sunlight looks nine-ish outside, sure, whatever. You got dressed quickly and went out to find him. His patience was thin, so you grabbed some sort of Folkvangr fruit that looked similar to a bell pepper, except when you bit into it it tasted more like a peach, but thankfully didn’t spill juice everywhere with each bite.

You didn’t know where east was and it didn’t help that the sun here sets in the north, or was it south? So that’s already got your directions messed up. Thankfully a kind, elderly Viking you passed along the way named Svund was able to point you in the right direction. He gave you a confused look as you went on your way. You were quickly adjusting to the odd looks you received from people who haven’t seen new humans since 1300 AD. It’s just as easy to stare at men and women walking around in leather and metal like it’s a fair, except in this case you’re the odd one out.

Loki wasn’t too far from the palace, you were able to see him from a window. He was in a clearing of the field where the grass had been cut in a perfect circle around him about fifteen feet long in all directions. He turned around while you approached, spoiling your chance to creep up on him for once and give him a taste of his own medicine, though you weren’t sure if that was even possible with someone as perceptive as him, let alone the fact that he’s a literal god. He probably has super hearing.

A blue sphere of light hovering higher than Loki disappeared upon a slight wave of his hand.

“What was that?” you gestured to where the sphere used to be.

“A defensive spell.” Loki gave no further explanation. He cocked his head. “Are you ready to start?”

“Yes.”

He eyed you up and down. “Before anything else, you are going to need to clear your mind of all doubts and anxieties. This is the most difficult part of performing spells, especially when you aren’t getting it right.”

You lowered the hands you hadn’t realized you were wringing. You dropped them to your sides.

“Well, that’s just shitty.”

“I told you it wasn’t going to be easy.”

You took a moment, thinking about what an experience this would be. There was no reason to be nervous. You were about to be taught how to do magic. This was going to be fun. It’s going to be fun, you repeated to yourself.

“Okay,” you said finally.

“Are you sure?” Loki asked.

“As ready as I can be.”

Your exciting, first ever magic lesson was moving a small tree branch without touching it. Nothing exciting but hey, where was this skill during the times you were sitting on the couch and the remote was out of reach?

He explained how to do it, and then showed you with a demonstration of his own. When it was your turn, you did just as Loki had: you pictured exactly what you wanted in your mind, thinking of nothing else but the branch on the ground. A minute, maybe two passed by before Loki spoke, reiterating the lesson: ridding your mind of doubts is key.

So you tried again, and a third time, and the more you tried and failed the worse your doubt became.

“This is a waste of time,” Loki said.

“Come on, it hasn’t even been half an hour!”

“A half hour wasted,” he said with irritation. “Humans cannot learn magic. The few who did should consider themselves lucky.”

“Are you going to teach me, or are you just going to watch me fail without telling me what I’m doing wrong?”

“Tomorrow, girl,” he replied with a lazy wave of his hand.

He headed back toward Folkvangr hall. You balled up your fists and wished that the stupid twig would collide with the back of his head. In an instant, the branch behind you whooshed past you. You watched in amazement as its trajectory was headed straight for Loki like you imagined. Awe turned to dread when you imagined what kind of reaction he would have at being attacked. To your relief, the branch slowed down, brushing the ends of Loki’s hair before falling lifeless to the ground again. Loki spun around, his stance instantly changed to attack mode. His eyes narrowed at you, then followed their way to the wood inches from his feet. He stood up straight once realization dawned on him.

“I’m almost impressed.”

“I was aiming for your head.”

“Another thing humans aren’t very good at,” he taunted. “Meet me here tomorrow, same time.”

As a quick learner, not getting the hang of spellcasting frustrated you. You were progressing, but definitely slower than you anticipated. And the search for the spell to undo the binding magic wasn’t going much better. Two weeks passed since your arrival to Folkvangr and nothing, not even a clue. There were hundreds of books you hadn’t looked into and you weren’t ready to throw in the towel yet. However, along the way you did find some intriguing spells that you hoped you could perform down the road – maybe a decade from now at this rate.

It was strange; you had the passion for magic. Seriously, what person on Earth hasn’t wished for magic powers at some point in their life? How can it be so difficult? And Loki, who thrives on being a dick, told you several times that teaching you was a waste of effort. So why was he still?

Then it came to you. What else was there for him to do here? Loki wasn’t the type to drink himself until he passed out like a majority of the residents here. He spent much of his time in the library, isolating himself in his room, or off doing who knows what and where for hours before returning to Freya’s hall. You rarely saw him speak to another body beside Freya or yourself, and he did that sparingly. How long can anyone do only those things before going mad? Teaching you was the most stimulation for an intellect like him. Besides, it was obvious he enjoyed showing off his abilities to someone who appreciates them. Some days, if he was in the mood, he would humor you by showing you other advanced spells.

“What was the name of that spell you did in the garden?” you asked one day before Loki jumped straight into the lesson.

“The Phoenix’s Glory,” Loki replied.

“What does it do?”

“It can be used for combat, but very rarely. For the most part it is a demonstration of the sorcerer’s abilities, because mistakes will lead to you getting burned.”

“So what you’re saying is it’s the perfect spell for you to show off.”

“Surprised?” There was amusement in his voice.

“Not in the least. I saw your whole spiel in Germany. You know, there are better ways of getting attention,” you joked.

His playful tone vanished in a second. Spooky how he did that. “You think I went to Earth because I was bored?”

It took you a moment to assess the sudden change in tone. Okay, not joking anymore.

“Well, you were planning on subjugating us, right? Why, what’s the point?”

Loki towered over you. “I don’t expect a simple earthling to understand,” he sneered.

“So there’s a justification for it?”

“Do you want an apology, girl, is that it?” His voice was low, almost a growl. For a millisecond it wasn’t just fear stirred in you.

You groaned. “That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.”

Loki’s arm snapped outward to grab your wrist, pulling you close to him. A grunt escaped you at the sudden gesture. He held your arm at chest height and your wrist twisted under his grip at an awkward angle.

“Why do you insist on antagonizing me?”

Your face was inches from him, and your person held in place under his gaze. You wrenched your arm out of his grip.

“Why are you such an ass?”

You took a step back from him and held your wrist in your other hand, protecting it from another potential assault.

“I don’t have to teach you magic. In fact, I don’t want to. So what do you want, girl?”

“Holy shit, dude, I was just teasing you, then you got all serious. Touchy subject, I won’t bring it up again.”

“Then we will resume with the lesson.”

His irritation with you dissolved and he shifted to teaching mode. While you were still suffering from whiplash a la Loki he had already moved on. He was exhausting, but you pushed past it. Today you were going to move the elements, which was cooler than the other stuff you were taught thus far.

Learning magic was tough and it was a slow process for you, but Loki was a damn good teacher. His methods made more sense to you than what the books you found were saying. Without him, you wouldn’t be making progress at all. You weren’t about to admit that though.

He was so calm when he demonstrated magic, and there were moments when you caught yourself looking at him rather than the object he was manipulating. Like just now for instance, you were watching him watch leaves swirl with wind he created rather than heeding his words.

“You love it, don’t you?” you asked.

Loki’s eyebrow furrowed. “Love what?”

“Magic.”

“I would say magic is useful. However, love it...” he shook his head.

“Come on. I see the way you are when you perform it. You become a completely different person. I know you’re the god of lies but you can admit when you have a passion for something.”

He rolled his eyes, but he didn’t sound annoyed when he said: “Are you going to perform the spell or not?”

You found bending the elements to be challenging but incredibly fun once you got the hang of it. The easiest were air and water, earth the hardest, and fire you steered clear of entirely, which Loki surprisingly did not berate you for. You couldn’t create fierce wind currents or deadly icicles like him, but you felt accomplished either way.

During the lesson a Viking came out to have a brief word with Loki. While distracted, you created a small rain cloud over the god. The man left and Loki looked up as he began to be rained upon. The raindrops fell but never touched him by some counterspell he casted in the nick of time.

“Watch it,” he warned.

You snickered at your prank that nearly succeeded. With a look of mischief on his face, Loki transformed the vapor of the cloud back into liquid water and splashed you.

“I was only gonna have it rain on you. You completely drenched me.”

“Then get me,” he taunted.

Every time you tried to splash him back, as easily as nothing Loki redirected it to the grass or back at you. At this point you had been splashed three or four times. It was still comical, but now you were determined to get him even if it was only the tiniest water droplet.

With water being thrown around everywhere, the grass was looking more like mud and an idea formed into your head. You had to bank on Loki for it to work, otherwise you weren’t just going to be wet, but muddy, too.

You approached Loki, who only quirked his eyebrow. He scanned you as he tried to piece together what you planned to do. Getting closer to him wasn’t going to get him wet; he was too smart. Both of you knew this but that wasn’t what you were going for.

Already regretting everything, and with a lot of fear and a little hope, you allowed yourself to slip once you were within arm’s reach of Loki. In record time, and exactly according to plan, he caught you. He was bent over, having saved you from falling into a mud bath by a matter of inches.

“And what exactly was your plan here?” he teased as his face and body hovered over yours. His hair dangled over your face.

Yes, right, your plan. You ignored the slight pleasurable sensation from the bond that rushed through you as Loki held you from gravity’s clutches. And more difficult to ignore was the fact that dark, brooding prince here just caught you in his arms. With magic, you willed the water over Loki’s head and a ball of mud just out of his peripherals.

“Slipping was my plan.” With your mind, the floating mud pile moved into his line of vision. He jerked his head to the right.

“You have a choice here, either you can let the water fall on you, or worse, stop the water but I get the nice and tidy Loki dirty.”

He smirked. “My magical abilities far overpower yours. I can easily concentrate on more than one thing and intercept them both, or better yet: I could drop you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

His eyelashes fluttered. “How highly you must think of me.”

“Why don’t you just let me have this one victory?”

He chuckled darkly and placed his lips next to your ear. “You should know by now that I don’t play fair.”

And he let you go.

However, obsessed with victory as he is, Loki was kind enough to magic away all the mud off when you got back on your feet. After gloating, of course, and very angry words from you.

---

The next time you agreed to meet was four days later. If he wasn’t secretive you would have asked why. You saw him only once during the short hiatus, and during the time you made sure to practice. When the day came to resume, Loki said you would be creating minor illusions. As usual, you were in a clearing of the field, and in front of you was nothing except for cut grass; your job being to remedy that. Illusions are trickier, he told you, and in his words hung the unspoken admittance that you were improving if he was moving on to harder magic.

He was close behind you, and the spiritual bond between you present as always. You were reminded of the other day when he had grabbed your wrist, and when he pushed you into the wall, and of course him catching you mid fall. Each time, and no matter how long the contact, the tug of the bond in your chest remained in its effect. Loki told you the side effect of the bond would last for him only a few weeks. Had it subsided yet? You became used to it but it was always noticeable. It had to be the same for him.

“Doesn’t this stupid tug drive you crazy?

“The bond?” he spoke behind you.

You nodded.

“I must admit, I don’t miss when we received human sacrifices.”

You turned around, facing him. “You’re not used to it? Wouldn’t you have slept with hundreds of sacrifices or something?”

“Hardly. Sacrifices happened but they were uncommon. But yes, I laid with a few of them, since you seem curious to know.” A sly grin appeared on his lips.

Your face became hot and you looked away. Thankfully, Loki returned back to the subject matter, telling you to imagine something small and simple for your first illusion.

“Like a needle?”

That weaseled a hint of a smile from him. “Yes. Or an acorn, or something similar.”

“How is this any different from making something appear?”

He explained to you how making appear something that exists is one thing, but tricking the mind into believing it is seeing something that is not there at all is another entirely.

“Point to where you want the illusion to appear, it will make creating the image easier.”

You reached your hand out, imagining an acorn on the ground per his example. Loki stepped behind you, his fingers brushing against your bicep, relaxing your arm as he moved down to your wrist. As always, the tug in your chest amplified at the contact of skin. You looked up at him, to which you were greeted by his own observant eyes staring down at you. Anyone could drown in that green. You blushed and looked away again. The bond within you felt like a rubberband about to snap.

“Not so tense,” he spoke softly. It took everything in you not to shudder next to him.

For a second you wished he stayed there longer. He stepped back, leaving you to concentrate on your task, which was curiously more difficult to do now. In front of you flickered the image of an acorn. The image was weak, more like a projection, not opaque but it was there nonetheless. Loki made a noise you weren’t sure if was approving or not. You awaited his commentary.

One hand was underneath his chin. “For a first try, it’s not terrible.”

The imaginary, glitchy acorn rolled over. You continued for another hour, focusing on creating the illusion into a more believable one. When Loki concluded the session for the day, progress was made and the acorn was almost 100% believable. You smiled to yourself after parting. You were finally getting somewhere.

[unwrittenlibrary]

Fine Line

Summary: There’s a fine line between love and hate and you’re not too sure which side you’re on with Harry anymore. Part Two to What Kind of Man 

Words: 5.0k

Warnings: I said this in the first part & will repeat it. This is purely fictional. This in no way reflects how I feel Harry would handle this situation in reality. I’m really using Harry as a character. DO NOT READ THIS if you feel the situation of cheating and staying together will impact you strongly or offend you. That is not what I want when reading my story. 

Notes: I urge those uncomfortable with cheating to avoid this. I also urge those who dislike this kind of writing to avoid. I came up with this story at a point in my life where my parents were divorcing, I was going through a break up and was lost. I’ve decided to finish this story because I put so much effort into it for it to end unfinished feels wrong. I can’t speak for anybody and how they would handle this situation. 

Thank you for 1000 followers. That is crazy! 

-

You’ve got my devotion. 

But man, I can hate you sometimes.

...

You sunshine, you temptress.

My hands at risk I fold.

-

April. 

The first two sessions had gone by in relative silence. You weren’t sure what to say to answer the therapists questions. You weren’t sure you even wanted to talk at all. 

“Y/N.” You look up startled out of your thoughts. “Do you feel like talking today?” Her eyes are kind and understanding. Her degrees hang behind her head and you zone in on them. Dr. Walsh had been the only therapist who could take you on in April. Any others that you called had informed you their next opening for new patients wasn’t until the end of May. 

You supposed it could have been worse. So far, Dr. Walsh had come across as kind and understanding of your hesitance. She had never forced you to talk and had only tried to get you involved on your own accord. 

“What would we talk about?” You ask instead of ignoring in silence like you had the past two sessions. You can see Harry turn his head to look at you out of the corner of your eye, but you remained focused on the two degrees hanging behind Dr. Walsh’s head. 

UCLA. “What year did you graduate?” You ask before she can answer your original question. “From UCLA.” 

“We can talk about whatever you want. How you two met. Your kids.” You raise an eyebrow and she smiles. “1996.” 

“I thought we were supposed to talk about our issues. Why would we talk about our kids or how we met?” You answer her question. You can tell Harry’s eyes are moving back and forth between the two of you, like he’s unsure if he should get involved in the conversation. 

Dr. Walsh shakes her head. “Sometimes the best place to start is with what makes you two happy. You’re here to work on your relationship, right?” 

The two of you nod. “Then I’m not worried about starting with the most painful part of your relationship. I want to learn about it. If I can learn about your relationship then I have more knowledge on how to help you repair it, if that’s what you want.” 

“Okay.” You agree. You feel some of your tenseness fade away. You were here for a reason. “We went to UCLA too.” 

She nods. “You did? Were you studying the same thing? Is that how you two met?” 

You look down at your fidgeting hands and let out a laugh. “Not quite. I was a creative writing major and Harry was political science. We met in a World History course our sophomore. It was a general requirement class.” 

“Yeah.” Harry nods as if the memory is coming back to him. “Professor Ward.” 

“Mind if I sit here?” You look up and your breath hitches. He was handsome. That was your first thought. Bright eyes and a sweet smile that could take anyone’s breath away. 

You nod hastily. “Yeah. It’s all yours.” You move your notebook over so he has a bit more room on his half of the table.

“Thanks.” He drops his books on the table and flops down into the chair. “Harry.” He reaches a hand towards you and you meet him halfway. 

You offer your name up easily and his smile brightens. “What brings you into a World history course?” He asks quietly as the last bit of students rush into the few seats left up front. 

You smile. “Creative writing majors have to take one broad history course before focusing on any history of writing courses. Ward’s class was the only one with openings that didn’t start at eight.” 

“Creative writing. That’s cool.” Harry’s spinning the pen in between his fingers. “You want to be a writer?” 

You smile nervously and nod. “That’s the goal. What brings you to Ward’s World History?” 

Harry laughs softly. “I’m a political science major, this is just a required gen ed.” 

“Political science. What’s your plan with that? Am I sitting next to a future senator?” You give him a teasing smile. 

“Lawyer.” 

You shrug, “Senators have to start somewhere.” The professor comes in and that halts the conversation from going anywhere else. As Professor Ward goes over the syllabus you see a piece of paper slide across the table towards you. You look over at Harry, but he’s looking ahead with a smirk on his face. 

You unfold the paper and there is a number written in messy handwriting taking up the small page. 

“Bold.” You whisper to him and he shrugs. “I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.” He whispers back. 

“So you both liked each other right away?” You look up as you're dragged out of the memory of meeting Harry. 

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “I think so.” 

“Definitely.” Harry agrees. “I’m lucky I was running late that day. The seat next to her was the only good seat left. Plus, she helped edit all my essays. I was a shit writer before her.” 

You smile softly at the memory. “Y/N?”  You look up and Dr. Walsh is watching you closely. 

“That class sucked.” You can’t help but let out a laugh. “We had so many essays. He’s right, he was a shit writer before me.” 

You finally spare a look over at Harry and he’s watching you with soft eyes. “That was our first semester of sophomore year. We were attached at the hip after that.” You look back down at your hands. 

“Did you guys start dating right away?” She asks.

“Pretty much. We started dating right before winter break.”  Harry answers for the both of you. 

She nods as she eyes the clock on the wall. “Does that memory still make you happy?”

You nod. Your memories hadn’t been ruined. But that didn’t really mean anything when you could barely be in the same room as Harry now. “Of course. But… Things are different. We’re not twenty-somethings with no responsibility. We’re parents. Partners. We’re supposed to have each other’s back. And now it feels like we don’t.” 

Harry looks over at Dr. Walsh as she studies you. She was obviously taking in your words and processing a response to them. “I think the biggest question you need to find the answer to is, do you want to fix this marriage?” She finally says looking pointedly at the distance between you two. 

You pause and mull over her question. “Can we fix it?” You ask quietly. 

She shrugs. “I can’t answer that for you. It’s my job to help you find the answer, not give it to you. What I can tell you is; Sometimes people walk out of this with a new appreciation and love. Sometimes people realize it can’t be fixed. Nothing is wrong with either, it’s just up to you two to figure out which one it is.” 

You look over at Harry and find him watching you with hopeful eyes. You knew he wanted to and felt like you both could fix this. 

But you weren’t sure. “I don’t know.” 

-

The drive home is silent for the most part. Music playing softly from the radio as you stare out the passenger side window. 

“I don’t know what to say.” Harry says as he pulls the car into the driveway. He puts it into park but doesn’t turn it off so the music is still playing as he turns to look at you. 

Gemma’s car was parked behind your own. You see the curtain move slightly which is a telltale sign that a child was peeking out the window. It quickly falls back into place when your eye catches Serena’s. 

You shake your head and look back down at your lap. “What is there to say?” 

Harry shuts his eyes and you see his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “I want to fix this. I’m trying. Do you want to fix this?” 

You let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t try and guilt me, Harry. I didn’t cheat, you did. This… This mess isn’t my fault and it shouldn’t be my job to fix it.” 

“I’m not trying to guilt-“ He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “That was a shitty thing to say. I know. I just want to know if we’re gonna make it through this. If you think we have a chance.” 

You look over at him with watery eyes. “I don’t know. All I can think about is you fucking another woman while I was home with our kids. Telling them that you were just busy. That we would have dinner tomorrow. Or maybe the next day.” 

Harry flinches like you’ve hit him. You turn away but don’t stop talking. “I know a month may not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things. We’ve been together for seventeen years, so what’s a month?” You laugh humorlessly. “But how long have we been distant? How long have you been staying late and missing dinners?” 

“I don’t know.” Harry whispers and you see him clench his eyes in an attempt to stop tears from falling.

“It’s been months, Harry.” You look around the yard. Your and Persephone’s plants needed maintenance. “We had Jack and then everything changed. We stopped date nights. Family game nights faded from existence. We stopped having sex. I… I don’t know what happened.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything so you sigh. “I’m trying, Harry. It may not seem like it to you, but I’m trying.” You unbuckle yourself and move to get out of the car. 

Harry reaches out and wraps his hand gently around your wrist. “I know.” He stresses the word. “I know you are.” 

You nod and the two of you just watch each other for a moment. You break away from him first. “I’m sure the kids are peeking out the window. We’ve been out here long enough.” 

The both of you climb out of the car silently. The door flies open by the time you reach the second step of your front porch. 

“Mama!” Oliver comes flying out towards you. “Mama. Never leave us again. Baby Jack is crazy.” He grips you tight and you laugh, the tension immediately leaving your body as you hug him back. 

Gemma comes to stand in the entrance with Jack on her hip. She gives you a weak smile and you smile back. “Come on, I’m sure Aunt Gem is dying to go home after watching you crazy lot for two hours.” 

Gemma leaves quickly handing Jack off to Harry and giving you and Harry both kisses on the cheek. “Let me know about spring break, Y/N!” She calls as she rushes out your front door. 

“Spring break?” Harry asks as he bounces Jack in his arms. 

“We’ll talk about it later.” You say sparing a glance down to Oliver, who’s still attached to your leg. Harry nods before moving towards the living room. Oliver follows behind him and you’re left in the front hall alone. 

You take a deep breath before following them. 

-

Harry sleeps in the guest room. You can’t bring yourself to allow him back into the room you two shared. 

His clothes remain in his half of the closet though and his toiletries had remained in place on the bathroom counter, so you saw him every night before going to sleep. 

Dr. Walsh had suggested the two of you used this time to try and reconnect. “You don’t have to sleep in the same bed yet. It’s completely normal for you to need time apart, Y/N. But I do want you two to talk before bed every night, I know you have four kids and it may be your only true alone time to reconnect emotionally before you ever do anything physically, even just sleep.” She had offered at the end of your session after you had admitted you weren’t sure how you felt about Harry and your relationship now. “This is a good way to figure out if you can still see yourself together.” 

You loved him. You didn’t need her to help you answer that question. He was the father of your children. You had over a decade of amazing times together. But you couldn’t look at him without your chest aching. 

“What was Gemma talking about spring break?” Harry sits on the lounge chair you two had placed in the corner of your room. Jack’s bassinet used to be next to it, but he had recently moved into his own room. 

You sit on the end of your bed with your arms crossed over your chest. “Olly has been asking if we could go to Disney World. I was talking to her about maybe surprising him and Serena for their birthday since it falls during the kids break this year.” 

“That sounds really nice.” Harry smiles and you nod. “I’m sure the four of them would love it. I can put in for the week tomorrow. I have a bunch of paid time off I need to use up.” 

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You want to go? We haven’t been on vacation since the beach trip before Jack was born.”

Harry’s face turns stoic. “Of course I want to go. I told you I was going to spend more time with guys.” He walks towards the dresser you have pushed against the wall. “Here, pull your laptop out, let's book this now so we can get a good room.” 

You gape at him. It had only been an idea you were considering for the twins birthday. Although, it was coming up and you were running out of time to make a decision. 

“Are you sure you can get the time off?” You ask instead of listening to his direction. 

Harry nods resolutely. “Can I?” He points next to you and you nod. You lean over to your nightstand, where you had left the computer the night before while writing. 

You push it open. “I’m gonna go get Persephone.” You stand up and hand the laptop to Harry. “She can help plan some stuff with us, so we know what these young kids want.” You give Harry a weak smile and he nods. 

You shake your hands out as you make your way down the hall towards your eldest daughter’s room. You knock softly on the door, “Seph?” 

“Come in.” She calls and you push the door open. She’s got her show paused and is curled into her comforter. “What’s up, mom?” 

“Can you help your dad and I with something?” You ask hesitantly. “I know it’s late, it’ll be quick.” 

Persephone gives you the same dimpled smile Harry has, “Of course. I was gonna be up binge watching this show anyways.” She unwraps herself from the blanket and grabs her phone before following you back to your bedroom. 

“Hey, lovebug.” Harry gives her your favorite smile. One he’s somehow reserved solely for you children. Soft and bright while his eyes shine proudly. 

“Hi, daddy.” She plops herself down next to him and rests her head on his shoulder. He presses a kiss to her forehead and the smile that spreads across Persephone’s face is contagious. 

You take a seat next to her, so she is squished in between the two of you. “You know how Olly has been asking about Disney?” You ask quietly. You and Harry had put the twins down an hour ago, but Oliver was known to sneak away from his room for a cuddle with you. 

She nods instead of verbally answering and Harry pulls up the booking website. “Your mom had the great idea to surprise the twins for their birthday.” 

“Really?” Seph asks excitedly. Your family trips usually consisted of beaches or visiting grandparents. The last time you had been to Disney was when it was just the three of you. You weren’t sure she could even remember most of the trip. 

You bump her shoulder softly with an excited grin. “Really. Jack is old enough that he can get probably through a day there without screaming his head off. Aunt Gem said that she could come to help watch him so you three can have fun.” 

“That sounds awesome!” She lifts her head from Harry’s shoulder and looks at you happily. “What did you need my help with?” 

“Picking out where to stay. You guys are the focus of the trip so we want you to stay where you want to, not us.” You gently take the laptop from Harry and place it in her hands. “So tell us your top three and then dad and I will pick from there so you still get to enjoy some of the surprise aspect.” 

She scrolls through the website for a few minutes while the three of you sit there quietly. You glance over at Harry hesitantly. He’s looking down at your daughter with bright eyes. 

You quickly look away when his eyes move up to meet yours. “Okay. I added the three I liked the most to your favorites! Did you guys need anything else?” 

You both shake your head. “Just keep this a secret. It’s going to be a surprise.” You smile excitedly at your eldest. She had grown so much, but seeing the childlike shine of excitement in her eyes brought you a bounty of joy. She was still your baby. 

Persephone nods before handing the laptop back over to Harry. She presses a kiss to both your and his cheeks before hopping up and making her way towards your door. 

You give her a confused smile when she pauses and turns back around to face you again. She takes in a nervous breath before speaking. 

“It’s really good to be all together again.” The words are quiet and fearful. “Um. I love you guys. Goodnight.” She turns on her heel and bolts out the room and back down the hall. 

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek and look down at your lap. “I’m sorry.” Harry whispers. His tone is similar to her’s. Quiet and full of fear. “I love you all. I know I hurt you, but you are all my world. Those kids are what I’m most proudest of.” 

“I know.” You look over at his lap. His hands curled tightly around the laptop still open in his lap. “I never doubted how much they meant to you Harry. I know how much you love those kids.” 

You want to reach out and pull his hand into yours. Something you usually did when Harry was scared or nervous. But you kept your hand firmly planted in your lap, unable to give him that forgiveness. 

“I was never afraid of you not loving them. I was-“ You stop unsure of what to say. What were you afraid of? “I was afraid that I had given so much and you still wouldn’t have chosen me.” 

Harry looks over at you with sad eyes and you let out a humorless laugh. “Harry, I’ve never regretted having Persephone so young. I’ve never regretted being home. But, I just want you to show that… that you appreciate me.” 

“I do appreciate you.” Harry says quietly. “I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t.” He places the laptop in the empty space in between you. You watch as he works through what to say, his tension clear in his eyes. 

“But…” He trails off like he’s still unsure of what to say. “I’m here. I want to be here. I want to show you that I appreciate you.” Harry takes a deep breath and places a hesitant hand on your back. “As long as you’ll have me.” 

You take a deep breath. “Let’s focus on this... I want the twins to have a great birthday and for Seph to have a great spring break. Things have been tough for them too. We can figure the other stuff out later.” 

Harry doesn’t say anything, just nods and pulls the laptop back towards him. You can tell he wants to though. That he wants to talk this out and get in deep.

You just can’t bring yourself to do it. 

-

“A family vacation can be very cathartic for couples struggling.” Dr. Walsh gives the two of you a kind smile after you reveal what you had planned for your kids. “But, it can also bring about stress at being in such a small space for such a long time. Especially when you’re still struggling to communicate.” 

“I’m really trying.” You say quietly, on edge at the idea of you and Harry bringing about any stress on a trip meant to be for your kids. “We both are. I think.” 

“I know.” She gives you an understanding look. “You guys do your homework. You said it yourself, your nightly conversations aren’t painful anymore. But talking about small things is only the beginning of strengthening your communication.” 

“So you want us to talk about the affair?” You ask. “The big thing.” 

She shakes her head. “Eventually. Sweeping it under the rug or ignoring it can only cause more tension. But there are other things I’m sure you want to talk about as well.” 

“Like what?” Harry asks. He glances over at you before looking back at Dr. Walsh. 

“Anything either of you felt was an issue.” She explains. “Big or small. Anything you think contributed to your distance. Try to remember, you’re not placing blame.”

“Not even for the affair?” Harry sighs and you shut your eyes. “How can I not place blame? That’s not my fault.” 

“No.” She agrees. “I’ve never agreed with placing blame for something like that on the victim. Do you want to start with talking about it?” 

“No.” You shake your head. “I just wanted to make sure we’re not finding all these so-called small issues so we can then excuse the cheating. I won’t do that.” You say disdainfully. 

“We don’t expect you to.” She glances over at Harry. He looks pained but he nods in agreement. “Of course not.” He says quietly. 

You take a deep breath in before nodding. “Okay, then where do we start?” 

“A lot of times, affairs feel like they come out of nowhere. They do.” She gives you an assuaging look. “But it’s also important to remember that there were issues before it and they’re still there to be worked through. We want to work through the big problem, but oftentimes couples work through that but not other things and end up separating.” 

You nod and take a deep breath trying to think through issues. Things had felt perfect during your pregnancy with Jack. 

You were excited, a fourth child and it was a boy, you and Harry had been hoping for another boy. Harry had even planned the small family vacation to the beach so you could enjoy time together as a family of five before it became six. 

“We argued.” You say quietly. The family vacation slips from your mind as your exhausted tears come to your memory. “Um. I had Jack and I was exhausted and we argued. It was barely even an argument.” 

“He still won’t eat?” Harry asks, coming into the bedroom. He was still in his suit from court and you feel angry heat flush through you at how put together he looked. How well rested and up he looked. 

You shake your head silently. Harry seems to not notice your tense jaw as he pushes his way into the closet to find clothes for the night. You turn to look down at Jack laying restlessly in your arms. Tears rush to your eyes as you stand and place Jack in his bassinet and finally get a look at yourself in the mirror hanging next to the closet door. 

You hadn’t showered since Persephone had left earlier the previous day and after running around to get the twins settled with Gemma and taking care of the baby all day you felt tense and gross. 

Harry comes out and smiles kindly as he watches you step towards the ensuite. “Can you watch him for a moment? I need a shower. I feel gross and it’ll help me relax. My nurse said getting tense makes it harder to breastfeed.” 

Harry looks down at his watch. “Something more important?” You ask before he can get a word out. “No. Just- I was supposed to hop on a conference call with Jeff, I’ll reschedule.” Harry tries to change the tone of the conversation, but you’ve already seen red. “Y/N, go shower.” 

“I’m sorry.” You say instead of moving. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you with your child for half an hour.” You know you don’t mean the harsh words and that you’ll probably regret them all after you’ve taken a break but- “I’m home all day with him, but fuck if I ask you to watch him so I can shower.” 

Harry’s eyes widen at the cold tone. He crosses his arms defensively across his chest as he takes a step back from you, even though he was already several feet away. “I never said I was inconvenienced. You asked a question and I answered honestly. I don’t have a problem spending time with my own child, Y/N.” 

Your turn on your heel and stock into the ensuite and slam the door shut behind you. You hear Jack begin to fuss more and Harry’s whispers as he presumably picks the baby up. There wasn’t a time in the fifteen years you’ve had children that you’ve ever thought Harry didn’t want to spend time with his kids. You still didn’t. But the exhaustion and stress that you felt with Jack was unlike anything you’d felt before and Harry hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“It felt like you weren’t paying attention.” You say quietly. “It felt like you had no idea what was going on.” Dr. Walsh trains her eyes on you as Harry’s eyes flick around trying to figure out what argument you were talking about. 

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly. Jack is curled in your arms as he eats and a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. You feel shameful at the words that had slipped out in an attempt to make Harry notice how upset you were. “I know you’re not inconvenienced by our kids.” 

Harry turns his head to look at you. He had been silently typing out emails as you fed Jack, upset but refusing to leave your side. “What’s wrong?” He asks as he slams the laptop shut. 

You want to tell him. How stressed and anxious you felt. How much tougher being with Jack was than any of your other children. How insecure it made you feel. You should tell him.

But. 

“How could I tell you all that and not sound like I’m angry at our child? Not sound like an awful mother?” You choke on the words. 

Harry stares at you with what looks like pity and you turn away. You didn’t want pity. You wanted help. You wanted him to understand. “You don’t sound like a horrible mother. You sound tired.” 

“What stopped you from telling him this?” Dr. Walsh prompts gently as you and Harry fall into silence. Her eyes flicker to Harry as he watches you with the same sad eyes. 

You shrug. “I just wanted him to notice. I wanted to feel like he still noticed me.” You let out a breath. “We love Jack, but Jack wasn’t exactly planned. We weren’t sure if we wanted a fourth and had only just begun talking about it. When I found out I was pregnant and figured out how excited I felt, I knew I wanted to keep him.” You explain to the therapist carefully. “We decided that we wanted him, but he would be our last one.”

You think of the doctors appointments and heavy warnings that a fourth pregnancy could wreck havoc on your body. 

“But I’m not twenty-three anymore and the pregnancy was really tough on me. And Harry knew. So he took care of the kids when I couldn’t and he planned vacations for me before I gave birth and it-” You breath catches. “It felt like you didn’t care anymore once I had him because I wasn’t in danger anymore. But Jack is stubborn and I was struggling.” 

Harry takes in a shaky breath and reaches out to steady your trembling hands. 

It’s a start. You guess. 

-

“I didn’t realize how tough Jack was on you.” Harry says quietly that night. You had been dreading sitting in the awkward silence. 

You shrug. “Babies are tough. Persephone was tough because we were so young. Serena and Oliver were tough because they were twins.” Your baby monitor makes a sound and you glance over to see Jack stretching his arms. 

You sigh and stand up. “Jack was… Jack was tough in a way I wasn’t expecting. Maybe it was because I had four kids all of the sudden or because you started working more. I was exhausted all the time.” 

You leave before he can say anything in response, but you know he’ll follow you to Jack’s room. You push the door open quietly and hear Jack’s soft giggles. 

“Hello, handsome.” You whisper as he looks up at you. “What’s got you awake?” 

You pick him up gently and bring him over to the rocking chair placed in the corner of the room. Harry leans against the door jam. 

You rock back and forth with Jack in your arms and Harry watched with gentle eyes. You look up as Harry begins to speak quietly. “I wish I could take everything back. Just… Redo this past year.” 

You look down at Jack and run a gentle finger over his cheek. “You can’t. You don’t get redos in real life.” 

The room is silent as you rock your baby back to sleep and Harry watches. 

-

We’ll be a fine line.

-

Notes: Title song Fine Line. This is really a filler for the next piece, I needed April to get to May :/

A few things; I have them staying together written. While this has been my plan since I begun writing this part & the next, if it’s something people wanted, I could do two different endings.

Like I said, I wrote this at a low place for me and had always imagined it as some type of closure that I never got from my parents situation or from my ex. Cheaters suck. But, some people do work through it. Some people can’t. That’s the beauty of our autonomy, we decide. I got a lot (and I mean a lot) of messages urging me to be mindful of impressionable people who may read this piece & with that I want to say; Your situation is not this one. Some cheaters will always be cheaters. This is not in anyway trying to convince you that a toxic relationship is okay. Or that cheating is okay. Please remember this is fiction and not meant to do anything other than entertain you! This is a piece I wrote & a piece whose ending I choose. Thank you for reading. I love every single person who read What Kind of Man and thought, I want more of this person’s writing.

(please do not be mean to me, I write for fun & am very emotional thank u)

[aquariumnights]

Garou Headcanons

Garou x Reader

The reader doesn't have a specific gender. I think?

Summary: fluff and Angst??? headcanons for the one and only hero hunter, Garou.

Warnings: none. It is very long because I love him

⇣ Cut for length ⇣

Oh god, give this boy a hug.

PDA is something he will not show, but behind closed doors, he’s like a needy puppy.

Love h i m.

Little spoon.

If you are an affectionate person, he’ll act all sour puss, but that’s all it is. An act. Man loves that shit.

Lazying around all day while his face is on your butt or boobs. Favourite thing to do in the world.

All dates are dined and dashed, even if you secretly pay for it. No other option for him.

Gives you gifts that are 99.9% stolen.

Never forgets dates. First kiss, birthday, the day you asked him out, valentines day.

Oh yeah, you have to ask him out, because he doesn’t know how to.

If he did try it would go down like this.

“Marry me.”

Lowkey cute, okay high key cute.

Fights anyone to show off to you.

Sitting on people’s roofs as you watch the sunset in each other’s arms.

Until the owner of the house tells you, kids, to get the fuck off his/her roof.

If you are the same age (still going to school) he will randomly appear at the window.

Asks you to skip school in front of the teacher.

"Let’s go get food. Your school is so bat shit boring.”

Don’t bother answering, because if you say no he’ll pick you up and run away.

Buys you smoothies.

Homes dates: feed him, hug him, make out while watching a shitty rom-com movie.

He lowkey loves rom-com's but will NEVER admit it.

Loves to watch scary movies with you.

He may have or may have not gets a little scared.

Has watched the titanic and cried. Don’t you dare let it go! Ever.

He gets pretty nervous about kissing you.

He fucking panics.

Squish his face and roughly kiss him.

He watches a lot of romance movies and picks up what to do- treats them like romance documentaries.

You're probably going to be his first relationship.

He won’t let you know that.

Total hugger, I’m going to tell you this every chance I get

“I’ll get stronger for you.”

Loves junk food and will steal it from your home.

If he can’t sleep he’ll make his way over to your home and watch you sleep. Liking to see you peaceful and calm.

If you catch him, he turns a shade of red and makes up an excuse that he wants to protect you.

Tell him, that he can wake you up.

Does wake you up but only 20% of the time.

Late at night, he cries in your arms.

Never talks about it again.

Kiss every part of his face when he's feeling sad. Because he does the same for you.

Showers you with compliments. No, it’s more like a waterfall.

Prepare yourself.

He loves you so much he could never see you do any wrong.

Shower him with compliments.

Acts tough around other people with you.

If you kiss him in public he’ll look like a kid thy just got kissed by his mom in front of his friends.

Secretly loves it. Shows who you belong to. Who he belongs to.

You get high off each other and act like fools.

Please do dumb shit with him.

Do teenage stuff too! He’s never had friends to do that with.

He can’t spell and his handwriting sucks. Just thought I’d let you know.

He’s gonna practically live at your house and it’s more worrisome if he’s not there.

If you live with your parents, he’s totally a gentleman around then. It’s so odd.

Has wooed them over. So he can live there.

He’s messy. Will blame it on your pet if you have one.

Leaves you cute little notes, you can’t read them but they're cute no less. (He’s scribbled hearts on the note as well.)

Both of you are crackheads.

Would totally steal anything for you. Just tell him and it’s done.

Kinda scary how fast he does it too.

Do parkour with him. Favourite shit

Even if you can’t do it, he’ll teach you.

Play hide and seek with him. He'll give you 30 mins to hide in the city, but proceeds to find you in 10 mins.

Go to playgrounds with him. Will show of to the kids there.

Btw he loves kids. L o v e s them.

But not as much as he loves you.

His laugh makes you laugh. The same goes for him.

Tickle him.

When feral calm him down with big fat smoochies.

His hand gets really sweetly when holding yours.

He’s really nervous on the inside so take your time with him.

Comes to need your attention and affection. Literally his drug.

He craves touch from his younger years so you're exactly what the doctor ordered.

Has the cutest nose crinkle.

Pouts when wanting your love.

You two probably gonna be all lovey even before you officially get together.

This boy would never cheat so you better not.

He’s so loyal god damn.

Would go to the ends of the earth to get a kiss from you.

Shit talks about heroes with you.

He’s really good at maths

Like insanely good

Same with computer games. mans a sweat without being a sweat. (loves bedwars and likes like a manic when he gets a kill in anything.)

He never loses but always says you carry him when you play together.

Can’t cook for shit, will try but it either ends up brunt, inflames or inedible.

Cuddles you when you cook. If you can cook. If you cant or are as hopeless as him, expect a lot of takeaways (some stolen).

Plot to take over the world with him, he loves listening to you talk about anything. He just stares lovingly at you.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Just The Way You Are// D.M.

Request: Hi can you do a draco x reader where they are in a relationship and her parents are like as**oles and they always bother her about her weight so one day she is with draco and makes a comment like “maybe i should stop eating so much” or something like that and Draco is like WHAT and tells her that she is beautiful and all that and he is like really worried Thanks!!

A/N: MY 100TH FIC!!! MY 100TH FIC FOR HP!!! Of course it has to be Draco!! I didn't think I would ever reach 100 fics as well as get over 1000 followers yet here I am. I am so thankful to all of you who have read everything but have also motivated me into continuing to write even when I doubt my own abilities (which is a lot). Thank you so much for requesting, lovely! I hope I have done your request justice! I enjoyed writing this, I ended up writing it all in one sitting. Please read the warnings before you read! And as always, I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: food, weight issues, shitty parents, swearing (I think) BUT DRACO IS CUTE DAMMIT.

Word count: 2k

Every morning in the Great Hall, breakfast is served at seven am sharp. This gives the students enough time to eat, socialise and let their food settle before classes begin promptly at half past eight. It also gives the students time to read over any mail that should fall with the Owls upon their arrival at eight am.

As your family owl drops a letter inscribed with the familiar handwriting of your mother, you don’t know whether to scream in frustration or burn the letter without reading. You knew that it would be filled with her usual criticism rounded off with a few sweet lines about the renovation to the house or how your cousin was doing so well on her internship abroad.

You flip the letter in your hands a few times; wondering whether the Howler from your mother would be worth it once she never got a reply from you. However, you eventually decide that the Howler would not be worth it and that your mother’s vitriol is better off read in silence.

Rolling your eyes, you try not to let the letter affect you so much. Her words are always poisonous and toxic, but this time, she cuts you where it hurts.

“My dear, how on earth is the Malfoy boy supposed to stay with you if you continue to gain weight? I’ve enclosed a new diet regiment for you to follow – stick to it, this is not an option.”

You scrunch up the letter and the included diet regiment in your hands. Crunching them up until they resemble litter rather than the foul words scrawled onto parchment.

You had never felt you had issues with your weight; there wasn’t any need to necessarily – the meals at Hogwarts were scheduled and there was enough exercise done through the day in order to get to classes on time, and this was before the weekend walks to Hogsmeade or the ambles around the Black Lake with Draco.

You don’t feel like there should be an issue with your weight, but your mother’s words are venomous barbs that stick into your brain. Her words on replay in the forefront of your mind.

There was no real excuse for the way your mother harked on about appearances and reputations. Your family hailed from an ancient line of witches and wizards; even going so far as to state that your ancestors were among the very first to attend Hogwarts when the founders were teachers.

So for your mother, everything since then had to be perfect.

Perfect hair. Perfect dress. Perfect manners.

Perfect weight, apparently.

Any appetite you had before has now dissipated. It’s funny how three lines of a letter is enough to put one off their morning meal.

You felt like a rule change should be implemented at Hogwarts; no mail until the evening - that way students don’t have the time to sit and worry about the thoughts of their parents.

Pushing your plate away from you, you bring out your reading book from your bag. Flipping through the familiar pages, you find the dog-eared corner from where you rounded off last night before falling asleep.

It’s easy to lose yourself in the pages having read the story over a thousand times before, but the niggling voice in the back of your head that sounds suspiciously similar to your mothers has you reading the same paragraph over and over again.

A kiss being pressed to the top of your hand is the first greeting from Draco. The next is a quiet good morning as he pours himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

You smile at the blonde-haired teenager, looking up from your book, but the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Love, is everything okay?” Draco asks; immediately spotting that something is off.

You shake your head, “It’s nothing to worry about, love. I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”

Draco chuckles; not entirely convinced but happy to wait until you come to him. “It’s because you didn’t stay with me last night.”

You roll your eyes with a grin, “I’ve stayed in your dorm the last three nights; it’s only a matter of time before someone says something.”

Draco shrugs; leaning over to peck your cheek, “Let them, I don’t care.”

“You will when we get caught out by Snape on a random inspection,” You comment with a light laugh.

Draco smiles broadly at the idea of the Head of Slytherin ever completing a random inspection of the dungeon. He grabs a slice of toast from the rack and reaches for the marmalade.

His eyes wander over the lack of food in front of you, “Already eaten?”

You nod, smirking, “And all alone as well since you take so long in the mornings.”

He laughs, “It takes time to look this good, darling.”

“Sure it does,” You comment, leaning in to peck him on the lips. He hums against your mouth happily, but all too soon, you pull away, “I’m off to the library before class, I want to get ahead on the History of Magic essay. I’ll see you later.”

You drop another kiss to Draco’s mouth before hoisting your bag onto your shoulder and departing from the Great Hall.

Draco shakes his head at your retreating figure; something about you was off, but he couldn’t place his finger on what. He wasn’t going to pester you as it would only make things worse, but he knew he had to address it before you lost yourself from overthinking.

Draco bites into his toast; already thinking of the ways he can talk to you.

----

Your days are always filled with little highlights; seeing the first flower bloom after a long winter or reading your favourite part of your book without being interrupted or it’s finding Draco waiting outside your classroom after every lesson of the day.

You find him waiting opposite the door to your class; leaning against the wall with his robes open, showing the white buttoned shirt underneath. His rebelliousness highlighted in the undone top button and untucked shirt. You shake your head as you make your way over to the teenager that made your heart stutter.

He grins, holding his elbow out to you, “Lunch, my love?”

“Lead the way.”

The Great Hall is loud upon your arrival. Students shouting, laughing, grabbing for food from the centre of the tables. It’s a ruckus, but it makes you smile as you take a seat across from Draco at the Slytherin table.

“Is that all you’re eating?” Draco asks with a frown at the sight of your plate.

You nod your head; your mother’s words from this morning making another round in your head, “I’m not overly hungry.”

The frown doesn’t leave Draco’s face, and through lunch, he glances between your face and the plate, wondering what’s changed for your appetite to have disappeared.

Draco walks you to your next class after the bell rings signalling the end of lunch.

He pauses outside the classroom, keeping a tight grip on your hand. His other hand reaches up to caress your cheek; a rare form of PDA from the Slytherin Prince who was more than happy to kiss and hold hands but would rarely show his feelings so openly.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong wouldn’t you?” He asks; concern alight in his eyes.

You hold his hand to your cheek; pressing a kiss to the palm, “I would.”

He nods silently. Kissing your forehead, Draco turns away, striding to his next class.

Guilt stirs within you like a lead balloon; weighing you down for the rest of the day. Even the ringing of the final bell of the day wasn’t enough to lift your mood.

Draco continues to meet you after every class; his arm always ready for you to slip yours through. But he’s quieter; more sombre as he leads your through the bustling corridors and staircases.

At the end of the day, he escorts you to the Great Hall. The level of noise quieter from lunch but still loud as students discuss their plans for the evening over the food laid out on the long, wooden tables.

Dinner is a feast by any standard, and Draco tucks right in, piling food onto his plate – ravenous after a day filled with exam preparation. You take your time with your meal; selecting more and more vegetables as you think back to the letter and diet regiment now burning a hole through your bag.

Draco sighs as he watches you pick at your food. He reaches over, checking your temperature with the back of his hand on your forehead, “Well you feel fine,” he murmurs, “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve picked at your food all day, and you’ve become more distant as the day’s gone on.”

“I’ll talk to you about it in the common room,” You state.

“You will?”

Nodding, you promise,  “I will.”

Draco makes his way through the rest of the meal; drawing you into a conversation after conversation about how the day has been. When his plate is empty and yours has been pushed to one side, Draco stands from the bench. He takes one last drink of his pumpkin juice before holding his hand out to you.

The walk to the common room is quiet; you think over the letter in your bag, wondering about the reply you’re going to send back to your mother. One cross word from you and you wouldn’t be surprised if she, herself, showed up in Dumbledore’s office demanding punishment for your insolent words.

It was tiring, you realise, to be her daughter.

The Slytherin common room is silent when Draco leads you through the door; all students either still eating in the Great Hall or ambling about the castle. You settle on the black leather couch in front of the already lit fire; you hum at the warmth it gives off – holding your hands out to warm them through.

Once your hands are warm enough, you lean back into the couch. Feeling Draco’s eyes on you, you shift your head, facing him with a small smile.

Draco tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “What’s going on in that pretty little head?”

You sigh, opening your bag and pulling out the letter. Handing it to Draco, you say wryly, “Dear old mama wrote, that’s what.”

Draco scans over the letter; getting to the three lines that have played on your mind all day and have affected your eating habits so quickly.

Draco folds the letter carefully into the three; he folds it ever so neatly before ripping it to pieces in front of your eyes, leaning forward and throwing the tiny pieces into the fire.

“I hope you don’t believe a word she’s written.”

You shrug, fiddling with your fingers, “Maybe I should stop eating so much.”

Draco leaps up from the couch; spreading his arms wide, “There is absolutely nothing wrong with your weight – you do not need to lose, you do not need to gain. You are perfect the way you are. I love you to pieces, but darling, your mother is an awful person. What sort of person sends that to their child?”

He kneels on the ground in front of you, “I will love you no matter what. The sky could be green, and the clouds could be purple hedgehogs, but even that would not distract me from my love for you.”

He gestures to the pieces of parchment now turning to ash in the flames, “Everything about you is beautiful; from the top of your head to the tip of your toes – there isn’t anything about you I don’t adore. Reply to your mother if you must; tell her that you’ve let me read the letter and that I absolutely disagree with her words.”

Draco surges forward, kissing you soundly. He shifts slightly, beginning to press you into the couch, “I love you – just the way you are.”

******

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