#also i twice got called 'the little sister' today and my younger brother had to specify 'shes the middle sibling' and i just looked at them

[seariii]

I need someone to sit on my bed and pet my head while I fall abck asleep

... and to kiss my forehead and say goodnight to me

[iamjellyfish]

Hi!! How are you? How is your day going?

and also about the request. Reader is Soshiro's younger sister. She serves in the first division and as soon as Hibino and Kikoru transferred there. Kafka and she became close, and the reader began to call him “big brother”, and Soshiro was very surprised 🤲. (I hope this isn't too boring)

❥a/n:woahhh you're my first req! I'm happy C: I'm unsure if I got Kafka's personality correct! :")) So here is a little drabble because I kind of got writer's block on my other fic T-T I change the time reader serve a bit so I can wrap my head around it, hope you don't mind lol.

so here is a fully platonic fic because this is too cute xD

❥TW: prob OOC, all platonic, Soshiro did choke Kafka like in the anime lol, it was very short.

You were vice-captain Hoshina's sister yet you served in the first division, as much as your brother wanted to have his sister close, you can't handle too much of his tease or else you would get written up. You would always hear your brother talk about this Kafka dude who is a poor guy that got teased by your brother too much.

You feel sorry for Kafka even before you even met him.

So when news broke out about Kaiju number 8's identity, you were kind of surprised that the poor dude your brother teased too much is the Kaiju was on Daikaiju level. Since Kafka and Kikoru got transfer here, you kind of talk to him a lot with them usually because you're curious. Kafka is a kind guy though, he kind of treats you like a sister. And just like the vice-captain Hoshina who is your brother, Kafka has some act that gives you secondhand embarrassment.

You guess you had an extra brother now. "Big bro, how is training? Here, I bring you water!" You said as you pressed the cold water bottle into the old man's cheek and successfully startled him.

"Eekk! Oi, what's that for?!"

Kafka angrily said as he took the water bottle from your hand and gave you side eyes while drinking because you giggled a little. Today, Soshiro came to train Kafka, it's a twice-a-week thing if you were correct.

Then you notice Soshiro over there thinking about something so come walk toward him silently and press a water bottle into his cheek too. Soshiro quickly pulled back to reality and looked at you with shock-filled eyes. "Did you really call him big brother? You don't even call your real big brother 'big brother'!" He said full-on dramatic just to tease you. "Did my little sissy abandon her superhero-level cool big bro?" He pretends to be hurt and even shreds a tear while using a praise you used to tell him when you were five! You pouted, you tried to calm yourself down as you yelled. "Soshi! You're so done! You know I hate it when you keep using those praise I said when I was 5!" You punch into his hand playfully until you are so embarrassed with more of his tease that you leave.

Then after you leave, Hoshina stares into Kafka creepily with his creepy grin. "Seems like not only you try to steal my vice-captain spot, ya try to steal my little sissy too huh?" Kafka trembles at his words and just tries to distract him. "Your sister didn't call you big bro huh- vice-captain..." Not the best last words in your opinion. Kafka was choked by Hoshina.

a/n: imma go work on the req, then narumi gen x reader x hoshina soshiro fic.

[pascalina]

The brothers' movie

11/07/2015

They don't use the same last name, but they are siblings. Pedro Pascal (40) the Chilean actor who starred in Game of Thrones and now has a starring role in the Netflix series Narcos, uses his mother's surname because it is easier to pronounce in English. 17 years younger, Lucas Balmaceda Pascal (23), also an actor, debuted in Los 80 and today stars in the TVN series Juana Brava. Here, both talk for the first time about their relationship, their love for cinema and their mutual admiration.

José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal was born in Chile, but a few months later he had to go into exile with his parents and his older sister, Javiera, to Denmark. It was the end of 1975. Thanks to the Rockefeller scholarship granted for his father, the doctor José Balmaceda Riera, a year later they moved to the United States: first they lived in San Antonio, Texas. Life there was just beginning and it was not easy.

Seventeen years later, in 1992, Lucas Balmaceda was born in Orange County, California, into the comfort of a family that was financially in its prime. His dad was at the peak of his career: as a fertility specialist and director of one of the University of California's reproductive health centers. But suddenly they moved back to Chile when Lucas was three years old and his brother Nicolas was eight. The two older ones stayed there. Pedro was already studying drama at Orange County High School of the Arts. Then he went to New York to study theater at the Tisch School of the Arts at New York University.

After a couple of small appearances in TV series, in 2014 he took the big leap in his career: he played Prince Oberyn in Game of Thrones, which made him world famous. Today, he has a starring role in the series Narcos. He is also filming a movie with Matt Damon and Willem Dafoe.

Fame came early for Lucas. After leaving Saint George High School in 2010, he studied theater at the Universidad Católica, and he began to shine: in year fourth, he starred in the theater play "La noche obstinada", by choreographer Pablo Rotemberg, and got a role in the successful television series Los 80 and today, in his last year, he is the co-star of Juana Brava, the new TVN nighttime series.

Scene one:

Lucas appears in Pedro's life

P: "I was 17 when Lucas was born. He was a baby when I left to go to university. I remember my first visit back and Lucas, who was not even two years old, was already the owner of the house. I remember those looks, wanting to tell me: 'I don't know who you are, but this is my house, mate.

To this day I have never seen that personality in another child. It was fascinating to see that wit in someone so small. Since he was a kid he had that fierce intelligence... The four siblings, Javiera, the eldest and the queen of the family; Nicolas, the doctor; Lucas and I are like a compact and consistent unit. I can't imagine life without them".

L: "Pedro was studying at the university in New York when I was born. When he went home for vacations to see the family, as I didn't know him, I thought: 'who is this guest, who is this weirdo who kisses my mother? She's mine!'. Back in Chile, every year Pedro came to visit us. It was the most entertaining thing in the world for me. He was much older and he would come with all the coolness, with all the culture of cinema, with horror movies that were not available here. Then we would watch them and play them out, we would do sketches. We would play that Pedro was a murderous monster and we would escape from him. We were each a character. He was very funny, he did voices, he impersonated people. He gets mad when I tell him, but I've always found that he has a Jim Carrey thing about him, he manages to make some impressive faces. When he came on, I couldn't stop watching him, he was too entertaining. We are all big movie buffs thanks to my dad. When I was three years old, he took my brothers and me to see Batman. I remember crying hysterically. I was very young, sensitive, and being in the cinema was like entering to another reality: loud noises, giant screen. I didn't understand anything.

Scene two

Transplanted

P: "What's Chilean about me and what's gringo about me is a very interesting question, because I don't think even at 40 years old I've been able to figure it out. I was raised and educated in the United States and socialized a lot with American pop culture, but Chilean pride has always been unwavering. My parents were exiled for eight years. So our visits to Chile were regular. My whole life I have lived in the United States and my whole life I have visited my relatives in Chile. However, since my siblings were raised in Chile, my connection to the country is much stronger today and it is something I am grateful for. Something that happens to me a lot is that when I say I've been in the U.S. my whole life, they say, "Well, you're a gringo then! And after a conversation in my fluent Spanish with a clear Chilean accent that same person turns around and says: I've been listening to you, you're Chilean!

L: "I am Chilean because I lived and grew up here since I was three years old, but at the same time I have a cultural disconnection: my parents lived 25 years in the United States, my brothers are gringos. My visual culture is super gringo, the TV shows I watched when I was a kid or the movies I watch to this day I understand them from that place: as an American. More than being born in the United States, I feel it's because of my family's background".

SCENE THREE:

The performance

P: "There were good years and bad years (when I started my acting career in the United States). Many years I was a waiter to supplement my income. But from a very young age I was auditioning for professional jobs. In my late twenties my career in the theater was relatively consistent. Then, when opportunities in television arose, I was consolidating and it became much easier to pay my expenses. I think that struggle, going through those situations, empowers you a lot and it's one of the things I'm enormously grateful for. And Game of Thrones was an incredible gift. It's the best role I've ever played and they're the best people I've ever worked with."

L: "It's Pedro's fault that I wanted to be an actor. But when I told him I wanted to study theater it was hard for him, more than anything, because he cares about me and studying theater is hard. You have to be very wise and have a super high self-esteem to take care of yourself. Pedro went through many things. If there is an actor who doesn't have contacts in the United States, it's him. Everything he has achieved is because of his work. That's why when people ask me why I don't go to the U.S., it's a resounding no. Being Pedro Pascal's little brother is not going to get me around the corner; I would have to be Tom Cruise's twin to achieve anything. Even so, Pedro had many failed career starts. In 2011, for example, he was offered a starring role in a series called Wonder Woman and it was eventually canceled. That's why, when Games of Thrones came up, I was like, wow! We were all freaking out, because Games of Thrones is like a worldwide trending topic. All the episodes he was in, we were all watching them together at my house, eating pizza or sushi."

SCENE FOUR:

Mutual lessons

P: "I try not to get too involved in anything Lucas does or how he does it. He has single-handedly created each of his experiences and is one of the most inspiring things I've ever seen. He loves his work and is continually developing his skills for television and theater, and eventually film. He executes like a real artist and, to be honest, it is more common for me to learn something from him than for him to learn something from me. I mean that very sincerely. Lucas reminds me to work hard and keeps me inspired. When I saw him in Los 80 I was incredibly proud, but not surprised. I was seeing something I had always known. The only advice I've given him is to not be such a workaholic, to take care of himself and to be proud of what he's accomplished and what he still has yet to accomplish. Deep down, I'm always going to be the protective big brother."

L: "Pedro is an object of admiration for me. What he says is law for me. Sometimes I ask him: 'Pedro, did you see that movie?' and he says: 'Yes, I didn't like it'. I tell him: 'Oh, I didn't like it either'. The nice thing about our relationship is that it happens so sporadically, once or twice a year, that the moments when we see each other are very intense. We either fight a lot or we love each other too much, but it's always like a story, like a movie. While he's there and I'm here, we talk a lot on WhatsApp and Facebook".

P: "With Lucas we always keep each other up to date on what movies to watch, what TV shows are good. I bug him all the time asking him about what's going on in his life and I'm always asking him about his perspective on things. Despite being away from each other for a long time, Lucas and I are very close and always have been. I see Lucas at the beginning of an amazing career, with an unwavering curiosity and passion. I love it when he confides in me about things he is enjoying or situations he is dealing with."

L: "I've never seen Pedro in theater, but I've been told he's tremendous. On camera, I find that he has a very intense look. He also has, and in that we are very similar, a very strong visual culture, the fact that we have always liked horror movies. He plays characters that hide something, dark characters. A great strength is that he is very sensual, he knows how to handle himself well from seduction".

P: "Lucas is brave, he's fearless. There's nothing he's not willing to try, he's never going to give up on a challenge, he's never going to leave something halfway, no matter what that means to him. Lucas is unstoppable.

Link interview

[blossom-hwa]

Skipping Stones - KEVIN

This was the second full scenario I ever finished for The Boyz and I think it was pretty nice to start with some soft Kevin :D THANK YOU KAI FOR LETTING ME YELL TO YOU ABOUT THIS ONE I HOPE IT LIVES UP TO YOUR EXPECTATIONS. 

Anyway! Happy (slightly early but only by a couple hours??) birthday to one of the best boys in the world, the one and only wonderful beautiful lovely Kevin Moon! I hope you all enjoy this <3 please reblog if you did!

Pairing: Kevin x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, teacher!au

Triggers: cursing, alcohol

Word Count: 7.8k

Falling in love with you, Kevin thinks, is a bit like skipping stones. 

Alternatively:

Five times Kevin felt himself falling deeper in love with you, and the one time he knew he was gone.

TBZ Masterlist | Touching Stars | Breathe, and Live

prelude.

Kevin knows he exists to be clowned. His sister says it’s something about his face – there’s something undeniably meme-y about his reactions, apparently, that makes him very clownable. His students tell him it’s in his demeanor – he comes off as pretty chill, according to them, which makes him easy to tease because they know he’ll react in some hilarious way, but it won’t affect him too deeply.

(Changmin just says he’s stupid, which makes him clownable to the highest degree, but Kevin refuses to take information from the teacher who still scares him every other week with whichever horror movie mask has recently caught his fancy.)

So Kevin knows he’s just a clownable human being, and he’s resigned himself to that fate for the rest of his life. But around you? His calm, collected, hilarious, wonderful partner? He expected a little less clownery and a little more loving.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to get Kevin to turn around. Honestly, he’s already feeling the effects of withdrawal from not seeing your smile for more than a few minutes, but he refuses to budge, lips curved downwards in a semi-permanent pout. He knows he won’t be able to keep this up for long (he’ll miss looking at your face too much, and really, he can’t be mad at you about anything), but he can make a scene. “Kevin!”

“You’re so mean,” he whines, still resisting your efforts to make him look at you. “I just poured out a very embarrassing part of my childhood to you and instead of comforting me, you laugh?” His pout deepens. “I don’t know why we’re dating.”

Your hands leave the back of his shoulders. For a second, Kevin thinks you’ve given up and he’s about to start whining about that too, but then you appear in front of him, fingers clasped placatingly. “All right, all right, Kevin.” Still grinning, you grab his hands. “I won’t tease anymore. But seriously, how could you expect me not to laugh my ass off when you told me you learned to skip stones for the –” you make jazz hands, presumably to emphasize your point – “aesthetic?”

Kevin sticks his lip out childishly. “I didn’t think it was that funny,” he mumbles.

“It’s not, not really.” You squeeze his hands. “But it’s a move that’s got Kevin Moon stamped all over it.” As if to accentuate your point, you snort. “Of course you’d learn to skip stones for the aesthetic.”

“Y/N,” he whines.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Your teasing grin melts into an eager smile. “Hey, teach me?”

“Right now?”

“Why not?”

It feels like Kevin’s physically crumbling to pieces with the way your hopeful voice and sparkling eyes just attack him from all angles. Grudgingly, the deep pout on his lips stretches into a smile, the starstruck smile that all of his friends like to tease him for. “Fine, let’s go.”

He spends the rest of the afternoon stepping around small children and younger couples, trying to find suitable rocks for skipping and teaching you the right angles, the right stance, the right way to hold the stone in your hand before sending it into the water. You learn fast, something he envies – where it took him at least a couple of weeks to perfect the art, you (mostly) pick it up in a matter of hours – but he can’t feel too jealous or too bad when you look up at him after your stone skips once on the water. “Kevin, I did it!” You shake him slightly. “Did you see that?”

The softest smile spreads across Kevin’s face as he kisses your forehead softly “Yeah, I did.”

When he pulls away, you give him the brightest grin before scrambling away to find more stones to skip. Kevin just watches, taking in the way your figure looks against the setting sun, bright gold and pale pink light streaming over your body, almost making you glow.

This is why he fell in love with you, he thinks. Your character, your tenacity, the way you throw yourself into every task you’ve been assigned so that you can complete it as best as you can. It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to treat a new cancer case at the hospital or trying to skip a stupid rock across the water. You always give it your all.

Idly, Kevin picks up a stone of his own. With a practiced flick of his wrist, it goes sailing onto the lake, skipping three, four, five times before sinking beneath the surface.

Falling in love with you is a bit like skipping stones, he thinks, watching the stone disappear from sight. Someone had to force him into that first blind date with you, much like making the first toss of the stone into the water, but every skip after that was quick, effortless, the way he felt himself falling for you, step by stumbling step, until his heart finally gave in and sank below the waves of your warmth.

It’s hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t in love with you, even though such a time did at one point exist. But the way you make him feel with the smallest things you do – the way you scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, the way you rest your chin on your hand in thought – it feels like he’s known you for an eternity and loved you even longer, loved you before time existed.

Your stone skips twice across the water and you shout with joy, racing up to Kevin to celebrate. He catches you when you leap at him, arms wrapping around your waist automatically, smiling into your shining face. Yes, he thinks, he’s in love.

He’s so in love with you.

. . . . .

i.

Kevin, by all definitions of the word, is panicking.

He’s been dreading this blind date for almost a month now, circling the day on his calendar and marking it D-Day, begging Jacob and Changmin to come along and hide in case he needs to be bailed out, relentlessly praying that he’ll be able to leave the stupid date in one piece.

(Look, as much as he appreciates Mrs. Park’s kindness and her brownies, she can be… a little overbearing. To say the least.)

Just a few hours ago, he was putting on his yellow sweater and bemoaning the existence of his pushy coworker. Just a few hours ago, he was lamenting his fate to his two friends (friends is a term he will use loosely for today – all they did was laugh at him). Just a few hours ago, he was cursing the existence of Mrs. Park and her brownies for getting him locked into this date with her sister’s kid. Wait, was it her sister? Or her brother?

(“Yes, her sister,” Changmin says, rolling his eyes. “Pay more attention, won’t you, Kev?”

Kevin groans. “Why couldn’t either of you be chosen by Mrs. Park, huh? Why me?”

“Because I have a partner and Jacob is good at disappearing.” Changmin grins that evil, evil grin he always has on just before he’s about to execute a prank on someone (usually Kevin).

“More like the two of you are good at leaving me to fend for myself against Mrs. Park, even though you know I can’t say no to shit,” Kevin grumbles.

“Give up her brownies,” Jacob suggests.

Kevin gasps. “No way in hell.”)

But now, he’s actually sitting across from you in a café not too far from his apartment, holding a cup of coffee between his (visibly shaking) hands. And he can’t even think of why he was dreading this date so much because you’re just… really, really perfect.

Why are you so sweet? he’s screaming inside. Why are you so funny? Why are you literally the perfect mix of snark and kindness and just – everything?

“So my aunt told me you work with her,” you say, seemingly oblivious to Kevin’s jitters. The smile on your face is really sending electricity racing through his heart. “I know the children must be fun, but I know she can be a bit… overbearing.” There’s a hint of apology in your eyes, like you know your aunt must have pressured him into this and you’re sorry that he had to come on a date with you.

Kevin’s stomach flip-flops. Okay, so Mrs. Park maybe did severely pressure and sweetly blackmail Kevin into a blind date. But Kevin also doesn’t want you to feel bad for it because it’s not your fault at all, so as usual, when he finds himself in a tight spot, his mouth decides it’s time to run.

“No, your aunt is really nice,” he starts. “I really mean it – she’s always very kind to the kids and to the rest of us teachers. I’m still kind of new compared to the rest of them – I’ve only been at the school for a few years now – but she helped me feel welcome that first year when I was still figuring things out. And she also likes Beyonce! You know, the greatest female artist there is? She let me play my entire playlist of Beyonce songs for her last year and she liked every single one of them!”

Kevin’s babbling now. Rambling. Whatever he wants to call it. His brain is screaming for him to stop talking but his mouth won’t stop running because this is what he does when he’s nervous. He talks. Endlessly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the table where Changmin and Jacob are situated in case they need to rescue him from mental or physical harm. The top of Changmin’s head is barely visible behind a huge menu so Kevin can barely see his friend, but somewhere in his babbling haze, he notices a phone camera poking out from behind the menu.

If he wasn’t blushing before, he definitely is now.

Finally, his mouth listens to his brain and he trails off on his last thought on why Beyonce is the best artist in the entire world. There’s a second of silence.

“Sorry,” Kevin finally squeaks. “I… tend to ramble when I get nervous. Or when I talk about Beyonce.”

Your smile flashes even wider. Kevin is torn between wanting to melt into the ground out of embarrassment and staying upright to keep seeing that grin on your face. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you laugh, fiddling with your cup of coffee. “I thought it was cute.”

Kevin’s face burns so much that he misses what you say next. “Sorry?”

You grin. “I’m always interested in hearing about a new artist to add to my playlist.”

Kevin lets out a theatrical gasp. “You don’t have Beyonce in your music library?”

A sheepish look spreads across your face. “… No?”

“Oh my God.” Kevin pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’m about to educate you on the artist of our time.”

The afternoon, then, passes in a flash. Changmin and Jacob eventually just up and exit the café (presumably with enough blackmail to last the rest of Kevin’s life – he knows he was acting like a complete fool, but luckily, you didn’t seem to care), leaving him alone with you. Under any other circumstances, he probably would’ve started crying, but you’re so sweet and so interesting that Kevin thinks he could stay and talk to you in this café forever.

He learns you’re an oncologist at a nearby children’s hospital, that even though the work is hard and tiring and sometimes overwhelmingly depressing, the strength of the children and the families you work with inspire you to keep going every day. He learns that you don’t have too much of a sweet tooth (though you won’t say no to ice cream or cheesecake, both of which he notes in his head), he learns that you love coffee, and he learns that you like to take walks in the park whenever you have a little bit of free time.

He also learns that you’re snarky, intelligent, driven, hardworking. He learns that you’re something far beyond the beauty of your face – that underneath your skin, there’s a heart that’s warmer than the sun.

Kevin understands that this is only the first date and that he maybe shouldn’t be making judgments so quickly. But he’s been told that he’s a relatively good judge of character, and the genuine look in your eyes when you talks speaks volumes about the person deep inside.

Even though you live further away, Kevin takes the bus with you to your home, citing that it’s only polite to walk one’s date to the door (in reality, he just wants to spend a little more time with you). As the bus rattles along the road, Kevin lets you listen to the songs on his phone, delighting in the way your head bobs to the beat of his favorite tracks.

Kevin’s a bit sad when you reach your apartment, sad that your time together is over for the day. He lingers outside the building for a moment, trying to work up the courage to ask about a second date.

Suddenly, you lean forward. Kevin jerks back – he briefly wonders if you’re trying to kiss him – but you just pat a spot on his sweater, frowning slightly at your fingers. “Is that… paint?”

Oh my God.

Kevin tugs the material of his sweater forward so he can see the spot you’re pointing at. Sure enough, there’s a small patch of red paint on the yellow fuzz. He groans. “I didn’t even notice.”

“Well, that’s what people like us get for working with children.” You roll your eyes comically, and Kevin bursts into laughter that’s definitely too loud for the small joke you made. Then silence falls again.

You break it. “Listen, Kevin.”

He perks up. “Hmm?”

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this date because my aunt has been trying to set me up with people my age for several years now.” For the first time today, you look shy. “She was probably really pushy with you too, so I’m sorry about that. But I really enjoyed this afternoon.” You meet Kevin’s eyes. “If you’d like, I’d love to go on a second date.”

Kevin’s heart explodes. It really does. Sheer excitement courses through his veins, and he has to stop himself from smiling widely enough to mimic a god damn clown. “I’d love that,” he says trying to hide how eager he really is. “Um, I’ll say that I wasn’t exactly looking forward to this either, mostly because my experience with blind dates has had… limited success. But I’m really glad I met you. You’re a wonderful person.”

Your smile grows wider at Kevin’s admission. “Thank you, Kevin. You’re wonderful too.”

“Do you kiss on the first date?” he blurts out because his brain has no filter. Then he backtracks. “Um, it’s totally okay if you don’t, I was just asking, please don’t think I’m a creep –”

You briefly press your lips to his. Kevin shuts up.

When you break away, Kevin honestly thinks you’re glowing. “Does that answer your question?” you ask, bravely trying to hide something – is that embarrassment? Whatever it is, he thinks it’s adorable.

Kevin blushes. “Yes.”

People probably think he’s insane with the way he’s smiling on the bus ride back to his apartment. He can’t help it, though – the tingling touch of your lips, gentle against his, plays over and over in his mind, along with memories of your lovely voice and your lovely smile and your lovely, lovely disposition. Some people are giving him weird looks, and Jacob and Changmin are sure to tease him to no end when he comes in to work tomorrow.

But who cares? Kevin’s got a second date in the works with one of the most wonderful people he’s ever met.

In his mind, he’s on top of the world.

. . . . .

ii.

Usually, when Kevin gets lucky and scores a second date or a third, he suggests taking his date somewhere with children to gauge how they feel about small toddlers tearing up the place. Children are a huge part of Kevin’s life – he teaches elementary school and knows he wants kids when he gets a bit older – so one of the silent standards he’s set for potential significant others is that they have to like and be good with children.

You work at a children’s hospital, Kevin knows, so you must at least be good with kids, even if you might not like them (hey, it’s possible – Kevin has known many people who are good at things they hate). That fulfills half of the standard. He just needs to gauge the other half.

There aren’t many events at the school coming up, though – no plays, no art exhibitions, nothing he can really invite you to. He’s racking his brains for a third date somehow involving children when you unexpectedly call him about an event at the hospital.

“I know it’s last minute,” you apologize profusely, “but the guy who was supposed to come today for the kids’ music hour called in sick. I don’t want to cancel the event because they always look forward to it and I know you play the piano – would it be possible for you to fill in?”

It is possible, it turns out. He may not be able to pack his Yamaha upright into the back of your car, but he does have an electronic keyboard that fits into your trunk. The whole way there, you’re apologizing, but between reassurances that it’s totally fine, Kevin can’t help but anticipate how you’ll act around the children once the two of you arrive.

Setting up takes more time than he’d like (the extension cord that comes with his keyboard is too short, so you disappear on a twenty-minute manhunt for a longer one while Kevin just stands there awkwardly), which makes him feel slightly like a burden on the rest of your coworkers. They’re so polite, though, so genuine and kind, that Kevin eventually starts to feel more at ease.

(He’s still endlessly grateful when you return, extension cord clasped victoriously in one hand.)

Then the kids start trickling in, and Kevin’s heart immediately both breaks and melts. Some are in wheelchairs, others have lost their hair, but they’re all smiling with so much excitement, chattering to their parents and the staff around them as they settle on beanbags and pillows on the floor. Several look at him curiously and he smiles at them, prompting several questions about who he is, why there’s a keyboard and not a guitar, and why the normal guy isn’t here.

“The usual guy got sick and couldn’t come,” Kevin says to one sweet girl with chubby cheeks and shining eyes. “I’m just here to replace him for a day.”

“Do you play the piano?” she asks, shyly pointing at the keyboard, which more than a few curious souls are standing around.

Kevin smiles. “Yes, I do.” He would say more, maybe offer to show her the instrument a little, but then you’re walking over, and her eyes brighten. “Dr. L/N!” she cheers.

With a loud laugh, you swoop her up carefully, cradling the girl against your shoulder. “How are you, Daeun?” you ask, lips spread in a smile that Kevin knows can’t be faked.

The girl – Daeun – grins. “I’ve been good!” she announces proudly. “Are we going to start soon?”

You laugh again, settling her back down on the floor. Kevin thinks his heart melts with the way your eyes sparkle. “Yes, we are,” you say. “I see you’ve already met Kevin?”

“Your name is Kevin?” Daeun looks at him curiously. “Your name is strange.”

Kevin has to force himself not to coo. “I was born in Canada,” he says. “My Korean name is Hyungseo.”

Daeun’s nose scrunches. “I like Kevin more,” she decides with finality.

Kevin feels brave enough to pat her on the head. “Then you can call me Kevin.”

“All right, Daeun. Go find your mom, okay? Kevin and I are going to finish setting up, and then we’ll get started.” With a soft kiss on the forehead (Kevin makes a sound he really hopes you don’t hear – the scene is just too adorable), you send the small girl off, turning back to Kevin. “Shall we get started?” you ask, grinning widely.

It may only be the third date, but he’s falling in love, Kevin thinks, falling in love with your shining face and sparkling eyes, with the way you shower love upon the children you’ve placed under your care. Right now, you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a future partner – beautiful in character, kind, gentle, fiercely loving.

His heart pounds a little faster.

Belatedly, Kevin realizes you’re waiting for a response and nods quickly. “Yeah,” he breathes, eyes glancing over the sea of children waiting (somewhat) patiently. A smile to rival yours spreads across his face. “Let’s get started.”

. . . . .

iii.

Kevin loves the last Friday of every month, he really does. It’s been tradition for several years now to go out with Changmin and Jacob on what he calls nights for “the boyz” to eat cheap food and get drunk. And no matter how much the others complain about the stupid name (Kevin will admit it sounds stupid now, but that doesn’t mean he’ll change it), he knows they enjoy the nights all the same.

Sometimes, though, Kevin just wishes he had more of a filter on his mouth. If not that, then maybe his brain could stop remembering every single dumb thing he said or did on drunk nights out. It would make his life a lot easier if he could just forget being stupid.

But no, God decided to be mean when making Kevin Moon. So Kevin, as a result, is an emotional drunk. He cries a lot when he hears about sad or adorable things, he says a lot of stupid stuff to (badly) express his overwhelming feelings, and worst of all, he remembers all of it when he wakes up hungover the next morning.

(None of this stops him from getting drunk anyway. Kevin Moon doesn’t learn lessons when it comes to alcohol. When he falls on his face (sometimes literally), he just gets up again, even if it’s with a bloody nose.)

Luckily, the night doesn’t end in chaos. Even though Jacob, who’s half of Kevin’s impulse control, leaves after an hour (he’s meeting with his family the next day, so Kevin is obligated call him a noob – it’s like a law of physics or something), Changmin doesn’t seem to be in the mood to do weird things without Jacob there to stop him, so the night passes relatively smoothly without Kevin throwing, like, a tantrum or anything.

He gets close, though. Because damn, if Changmin isn’t so fucking adorable when talking about his partner. Buried in his purple hoodie, black hair peeking softly over the top, it’s impossible for Kevin not to tear up when Changmin begins gushing over his beautiful, amazing, wonderful significant other whom he just compared to stardust.

Stardust.

Kevin wants to scream, that’s so romantic.

When you come to pick him and Changmin up, Kevin can’t resist relaying all of this to you as soon as he gets in the car. Vaguely, he thinks he should be worried about Changmin hearing it and hitting him, but the boy is mostly asleep in the back, eyes only fluttering slightly when you go over a bump or something. After Changmin gets dropped off at his apartment, Kevin turns the gushing on full force.

“Y/N, the love of my life, he called her stardust,” he’s still babbling even as you strongarm him up to his own apartment. “He’s so adorable. Changmin is so adorable. Oh my God.”

He thinks you snort. Probably. It would be a normal response. “Didn’t you call him the spawn of Satan just a few days ago?”

Definitely a snort, Kevin thinks, but he’s too invested in Changmin’s loveliness to whine about you making fun of him. “Y/N,” he pouts instead, “listen to meeeeee.”

“I’m listening, I’m listening.” You grunt, catching him just as he misses the next step and almost falls forward. “Hey, be careful.”

“’M trying.” Kevin manfully does his best to stop the world from tilting on its side. “But Changminnie.”

“Yes, yes, Changminnie.” Even drunk, Kevin can make out the playful exasperation in your voice. “Keep going.”

“Thank you, love of my life.” Kevin tries to give you a kiss but his lips hit air instead of your cheek. “Heck.”

You burst into loud laughter. “Kevin Moon, you never told me you were this adorable when drunk.”

“Changminnie,��� he says more insistently.

“Okay, yes, I’m listening.” You kiss his cheek instead, and Kevin almost topples over right then and there. “Hey, you can’t fall over whenever I kiss you. Tell me about Changmin.”

Kevin starts flailing his arms around as best he can. “He’s so cute!” he half-yells. “He told me his partner was like stardust because she’s so perfect and warm, but she’s also like stardust because… because…”

His lip juts out.

“Oh, no, don’t cry, Kev.” You stop moving, then Kevin registers you bundling him into a hug, patting his head. “I know you’re a sad emotional drunk, but don’t cry.”

“Not crying,” Kevin protests, visibly crying.

“Mhm.” You pat his head one last time before letting go. “Hey, give me a second, I’m going to unlock your door.”

There’s some fumbling and a quiet snick, then Kevin obediently follows you through the door of his apartment. Once inside, you press a thumb to the side of his face, brushing a tear away. “Tell me what Changmin said to make you sad.”

“Changminnie said he’s afraid she’ll… she’ll… slip away between his fingers. Like stardust.” Kevin feels like he’s going to start sobbing any moment now. “He’s afraid she’s going to leave him eventually because she’s too perfect and he’s not good enough.”

“Oh my God.” You sit down on the couch. Kevin follows suit, albeit a lot more ungracefully as he collapses onto a cushion in a tangle of limbs. “Oh my God, that’s so sad and cute at the same time.”

“I said he should call her his star,” Kevin mumbles, turning slightly so he can burrow into your side. “Because stardust. Texted them about it. Both of them.”

Your laugh sounds like music even to the drunken haze of his brain. “Wonder what they’ll think when they see a drunken keysmash on their phones first thing tomorrow morning.”

The two of you sit in silence for a bit. Kevin feels his eyes beginning to get droopy, and he almost falls asleep before a thought strikes him with lightning force.

“I need to give you a nickname!” he almost yells, sitting bolt upright. The movement makes the room spin, but he doesn’t care. This is urgent. “Changmin’s going to call her his star, but I haven’t given you a nickname yet!”

“Kev, Kev.” You hold him by the shoulders, and he relaxes a little. “You can come up with a nickname for me in the morning. Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

“No,” he whines, shifting in your grip. “This is important. You need a nickname.” He sinks into deep, drunken thoughts, the kinds of thoughts he has when he ignores everything around him in favor of getting philosophical after having drunk too much alcohol.

Then it hits him.

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Oh my God.” It’s his turn to grab you by the shoulders, now. “Oh my God. You’re the sun. Because I’m the moon. Get it? Kevin Moon?”

Through his drunken haze, Kevin thinks he sees you smile, maybe. It looks like a smile.

Your eyes are sparkling. You look happy.

Probably a smile.

“I’m a genius,” he whispers. A genius for coming up with the nickname and for making you happy.

“Sure, Kevin.” You grunt a little as he shifts his weight. “Come on, get up. We’ll see if you’re still a genius tomorrow if you wake up and remember all of this.”

Kevin doesn’t register much for the rest of the night, just remembers falling into his bed and forcing you to lie down next to him. The next morning, he wakes up with a throbbing headache and the vague, ever-present worry that he said something stupid last night.

You’re not in the bed with him anymore. Kevin blinks once, twice, before trying to sit up so to figure out where you went. Then he remembers you don’t live here. You probably went home.

Which is why he nearly goes into cardiac arrest when you appear in his doorway, holding a mug of coffee and a glass of water.

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other. Kevin’s not sure what thoughts are running through your head, but he knows he’s trying to piece together what happened last night, and whether or not he should be hiding under the covers out of embarrassment.

Then it hits him.

Sun.

Moon.

Genius.

Oh, God.

Kevin wants to die.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, using your new nickname in the desperate hope that it’ll distract you from remembering the rest of what he said last night.

A catlike smirk curls your lips as you walk over, pressing the glass of water into his hands. A feeling of dread fills Kevin’s heart as he takes it.

“Morning, genius,” you say with enough evil delight to power Changmin for a year.

Kevin groans. “I was drunk.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Your teasing smile melts into something gentler as you place your mug on the bedside table, turning to bring the glass of water in his hands to his lips. “Coffee’s mine, don’t touch it or I’ll break a bone. Drink the water. I made some breakfast, so come into the kitchen whenever you feel up to it. After you’ve brushed your teeth.”

Warmth courses through Kevin’s body, and it has nothing to do with the alcohol from last night and everything to do with how you’re here in body and mind, sweetly helping him recover from a stupid hangover even when it’s definitely not your problem to take care of and you probably have better things to do. His heart thumps, loud enough that he thinks you could probably hear it.

In this moment, Kevin doesn’t think he’s ever been more grateful for anything than you coming into his life.

“Got it.” He awkwardly tries to salute, but he does it with the hand holding the glass and the water nearly spills onto the bed. As his cheeks flush, you break into snorting giggles.

Even though it’s at his expense, Kevin thinks he would do anything, anything in the world, to keep that wonderful smile on your face and that musical laughter in the air.

. . . . .

iv.

Only when you move in together does Kevin realize just how taxing your job is. He had an idea from when you sometimes had to cancel or move around dates, but when you did meet up, you were usually energetic and cheerful. Of course, there were the token dates where you just came over to Kevin’s apartment or he came over to yours and you just flopped around for a few hours. Outside, though, you always showed a bright face.

But that was because dates were mostly on your days off or when your hours were short, and as a result, you felt good enough, energized enough to show Kevin your brilliant smile. When you first moved in together, Kevin felt a bit surprised – well, maybe not surprised, but saddened – that you didn’t have the energy to smile as brightly as he saw before.

It’s fine by Kevin, though. You smile often enough, and if your teeth don’t show as much as they used to, there’s something beautiful, something calming and sweet in the slower curve of your lips, the gentle, lethargic way you lean up for a kiss. After all, Kevin has enough energy to compensate for when you might lack some of yours.

(It helps that he can cook, he thinks. Even when the kids at school sometimes wear him out, the brief sparkle in your eye that spreads across your lips when you walk through the door to see him stirring something on the stove is more than enough to make up for it.)

You’re cute, too, when you’re tired. Though Kevin loves it when you’re energetic and ready for whatever the day has decided to throw in your path, there’s something so peaceful, so pleasant about feeling you lying lethargically against his side on the couch, scrolling through your phone or reading a book or just resting, doing nothing but breathing softly. Kevin cherishes those small moments, the soft atmosphere where he kisses your hair and you smile, reach up, and press a kiss of your own to his cheek.

Tonight is one of those nights, a night of soft, comforting silence, words few and far between. It’s been a bit warm lately, so Kevin’s elected to wear one of the tank tops he keeps for the warmer months instead of his usual sweater.

You sit next to him on the couch, back pressed to his side as you send off emails on your phone. Kevin’s working too, inputting grades on his laptop. He hums a little under his breath to take his mind off of the monotony of his task.

At some point, you finish, putting down your phone with a sigh and slumping into his ribs. Kevin starts at the sudden movement. “Sunshine,” he whines, even though he could really care less.

“Moon boy,” you parrot in the same tone of voice.

Kevin’s attention turns back to his laptop, so he barely registers you shifting on the couch to a new position. He does notice it, though, when your fingers start trailing along his skin, exposed by the lack of sleeves on his tank top, because your touch tickles.

You completely ignore his resulting twitch of surprise, only keep tracing the skin of his rib cage. Kevin looks down, confused as to what’s caught your attention.

Oh. His tattoos.

“Sunshine?” he asks softly, watching your fingers shift along his skin.

“Mm,” you hum, eyes still fixated on the ink decorating his side.

“Sleepy?”

Slowly, you shake your head, fingers paused on the image of Mickey Mouse. “Not yet.”

He goes back to inputting grades, all the while still aware of your fingers tracing the lines, the curls, the swirls of black ink along his side. When he finishes, he looks over before closing his laptop to see your eyes still focused on his skin.

Something in his heart explodes, spreading a tingly, comforting warmth throughout his body. It’s a feeling he’s come to associate with your presence, a feeling of absolute security, absolute trust, absolute warmth that comes with falling in love with you.

You look up, noticing his lack of movement. “Finished, moonbeams?”

“First moon boy, now moonbeams?” Kevin teases you lightly, picking up the hand you were using to trace his skin and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Just like every other time he’s ever done it, a wide smile spreads across your face and a shyness sparkles in your eyes, as though you still can’t believe the bliss of the moment.

(At least, that’s what Kevin feels every time you do something to remind him that he’s yours.)

Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Can’t call you moonshine, that’s an alcohol.” You shrug as best as you can in your stretched-out position. “Moonbeams, moon boy… whatever feels right.”

Kevin puts his laptop on the coffee table. As he leans back into the couch, you curl up into him, one hand still lingering against the Mickey Mouse tattoo on his side. “Tell me about these?” you ask, pressing your fingers a bit more firmly against the ink.

His tattoos are personal, serving as reminders of the past and inspiration to keep moving. Rarely does he share their meanings with anyone (not that people usually ask, because the tattoos are mostly covered by his clothes), and only with those who mean the world to him.

Kevin thinks you qualify as one of them.

Touching your shoulders, he turns you around slightly, just enough to press a short, sweet kiss to the top of your head. “Of course, sunshine.” He smiles, gazing into your eyes, feeling the warmth of your love travel through his limbs. “Which one first?”

. . . . .

v.

Kevin Moon, for the majority of his life, has hovered in between being classified as a morning person or a night owl. Yes, he gets up at six in the morning for a cup of coffee, but he also stays up past midnight doing… stuff. Grading, writing reports, watching cat videos, wasting time.

(When Changmin judges his lifestyle, Kevin just reminds him that he fell in love with his roommate’s hookup and is on a dance team with the parent of one of his students.)

Honestly, if Kevin didn’t remind himself every so often that he’s currently a full adult, his lifestyle would make him think he was still in college. He certainly still acts like it when he isn’t working. Procrastinating? Check. Crying over reports he needs to submit at three a.m.? Check. Flopping around on the floor when life is going badly? Check.

And most importantly: nonexistent sleep schedule? Check.

You put a stop to that real quick when you move in, both directly and indirectly. Directly, you make an appointment for him at a sleep clinic after figuring out his shitty sleep patterns, and Kevin finds out he probably has mild insomnia. The aftermath is horrible – you put him on a strict sleep schedule and all but ban caffeine from his diet (goodbye, morning coffee) – but it helps, after a couple of weeks. He sleeps better. Perks of having a partner who works in medicine.

Indirectly, though, you probably make a bigger difference.

See, the way Kevin thinks about it, he just never had a lot of reasons to stay in bed very long. Even though he appreciates sleep, really appreciates it on long days, it’s just that he can’t really force it if it doesn’t want to come. He’d also rather be doing something productive (or not productive, depends on the asker’s perspective) than lying awake for hours, anyway.

But now that he’s waking up to a face he loves?

Well, even if you sometimes disappear before he wakes (hospital hours are whack as hell, but sadly, you can’t ignore your job), Kevin will just say your warmth is a powerful incentive to stay huddled under the covers, even if he can’t fall back asleep.

He still wakes up every morning to grey light beginning to peek through the window. No matter how hard he tries to sleep in just a little longer, his body can’t seem to stay unconscious past six in the morning, so both of you have just resigned yourselves to the fact that Kevin will always be an early riser.

Before you walked into his life, he would’ve rolled out of bed almost immediately, stumbled to the bathroom (and maybe knocked his knee against the doorframe, who knows), then started brewing coffee in the kitchen to start the day.

Now?

A drowsy smile begins to make its way across Kevin’s face, soft as the morning light, when his brain catches up to the present and he registers your warmth under the covers. Sleepily, he blinks, taking in the sight of your peaceful face buried halfway in the sheets.

You shouldn’t look this beautiful, Kevin thinks, not with your hair strewn all over the pillow, blankets rumpled around your shoulders, arms outstretched so that one sort of curls over his body while the other is held up to your chest. It’s the morning – no one should look pretty and put-together. That isn’t natural.

(Unless you happy to be Kim Younghoon, but that’s another story.)

Yet you somehow look like a sleeping deity in Kevin’s mind, even with your hair a mess and drool drying on the pillowcase. As the drowsiness clears from his eyes, as the light from the window grows brighter, Kevin can barely even think of moving, of disturbing your peace.

He dislikes your alarm. It’s loud, annoying, and hits him with a jolt when he’s just trying to take these stolen morning moments to admire your beauty. When he complains about it the first time, you tell him to serve as the alarm, to wake you up himself.

Kevin counters that he’s an artist, that he needs peace and quiet to give beauty of such a degree the respect it deserves. You just roll your eyes, telling him that if he isn’t going to wake you up, the alarm’s going to have to take that job. The smile on your face, though, and the brief kiss you press to his lips right after, speaks volumes for the emotions Kevin’s words make you feel.

(He loves flustering you like this, even if you pretend his words don’t make you feel some sort of way.)

So eventually, you wake, eyes fluttering as the alarm brings you back to the conscious plane. Kevin’s heart feels like it’s bursting when your eyes fully open, blearily blinking at the world.

“Morning, sunshine,” he whispers, running one hand through your hair.

You lean slightly into the touch, the corners of your lips twitching up. And every day, as he stares into your sleepy eyes, lips curling as you whisper a quiet “Morning, moon boy” in reply, Kevin knows he’s falling, falling in love with every part of you.

. . . . .

+i.

Kevin’s waiting in front of the school when you pull up at the curb. Smiling apologetically, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek as you step out of the car. “Sorry, sunshine.” He gestures at the two small boys standing beside him, absorbed in their own world. “Their uncle’s running late and Changmin and Jacob have things to do, so I need to wait for Sangyeon to pick them up before we can go.”

“No worries.” You return the kiss, smiling as bright as the sun. Kevin feels a flash of pride for coming up with a nickname that fits you so well. “We have the whole afternoon, don’t we?”

“That, we do.” He grins, squeezing your hand.

“Mr. Moon, who’s that?” a small voice asks closer to the ground. The two of you turn to see Sunwoo and Eric trotting over, curious looks on their faces.

Kevin looks over at you, but you’re already bending down to get to eye level with the two boys. “Oh, hello!” Your grin, if possible, grows wider. “I’m Y/N, Kevin’s significant other. What are your names?”

“I’m Eric,” Eric pipes up. “This is my brother, Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo just stares with round eyes. Well, he’s always been the shyer of the two.

“Those are lovely names,” you reply smoothly, giving Sunwoo an encouraging smile. Kevin feels his heart melt completely at how well you interact with the kids. “I’m just going to be waiting with Kevin until your uncle picks you up, is that okay?”

The two kids nod and immediately go back to babbling in their own little world. Kevin notices the fond smile on your face, and his heart melts even more.

“They’re so cute,” you whisper to him.

“I know, right?” Kevin clutches his heart dramatically. “Can you imagine teaching them every day?”

Just as you’re shaking your head in comic disbelief, another car pulls up behind yours. A harried-looking young man quickly exits and Eric and Sunwoo cheer, distracted by the arrival of their uncle.

“Sorry about this,” Sangyeon says, absentmindedly patting Eric’s head as the boy hugs his leg. Sunwoo seems to be attempting to climb onto his uncle’s back. “Traffic wasn’t the kindest when I was getting out of work.” Then he notices you. “Oh, hello. Are you Kevin’s partner?”

“That I am.” You stick out a hand. “I’m Y/N, and I’ve been told you’re Sangyeon?”

Sangyeon nods, smiling. “Nice to meet you. And to see that Kevin’s found someone to deal with his antics.”

Kevin blushes as you laugh. “Hey,” he complains. “No jokes at my expense, please.”

“Sure, moonbeams.” You roll your eyes, then turn back to Sangyeon. “It’s nice to meet you. Your nephews are adorable.”

The smile that Sangyeon gives the two boys clambering around him says it all. “They are, aren’t they?” He checks his watch. “I’m sorry, I have to go now. My sister’s expecting us back soon, and I’m already a bit late.”

Kevin breathes a sigh of relief. No more teasing at his expense from Sangyeon, at least, though there’s no guarantee from you. “Nice seeing you, Sangyeon. And have a good day, kids.”

A small chorus of “You too, Mr. Moon!” sounds, and Kevin expects that to be the end. Sangyeon will herd the boys into the car, Kevin will follow you into yours, and then you’ll go your separate ways. What he doesn’t expect is for Sunwoo to look out at you from behind his uncle’s leg, round eyes cautiously curious, and ask you a question.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you turn around, teasing smirk melting into a gentle smile for the small boy. “Yes, Sunwoo?”

Sunwoo’s eyes dart between you and Kevin. Then, softly, shyly – “Do you love Mr. Moon?”

Time seems to stop as Kevin’s breath hitches in his throat at the sudden question, but you only look back at him, eyes soft and sparkling in the sunlight. 

Your answer glitters in your gaze.

Though you’re supposed to be talking to Sunwoo, your eyes stay fixed on Kevin, strong and unyielding, yet gentle and affectionate, as you answer. Your voice is soft when you reply. “Yes, Sunwoo. I do love him.” The smile on your face grows wider as you turn back to the child. “I love him very much.”

Indescribable warmth floods Kevin’s chest and tears prick his eyes. And as Sangyeon hurries his nephews away, as you turn around to unlock your car, one truth burns with absolute, crystal-clear certainty in his mind.

He isn’t falling in love with you, not anymore. No, he’s far past that stage.

Kevin Moon is completely, wholly, irrevocably in love with you.

“Kevin?” You look at him from the other side of the car. “You coming?”

A wide grin spreads across his face as he meets your sparkling eyes. Love blooms in his chest.

“Coming, sunshine.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for kevin’s whipped ass ksjdkgsdhjk)

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 3k

Summary: 

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears the echo of birdsong in her laughter, her song to the gods in the wind.

(Loosely inspired by Kimi No Nawa)

Masterlist link here 

AO3 link here

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything! 

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask! 

The first time it happens, Akaashi is in his third year of university. 

The upside of staying in Tokyo for university (his mother cried when he got into Waseda, her alma mater) is that he sees his family almost every weekend for cosy family dinners. The downside of staying in Tokyo for university is that he really has no excuse when his parents insist on carrying on Hatsumode, the first prayer of the new year, at the crack of dawn at the shrine close to their home. It’s not that he minds the tradition per se, but he did just spend all night rushing his projects just so he could adhere to the unspoken rule that no work should be done during the New Year holidays and spend some time flying kites with his little cousins. 

Still, there is something magical about starting the New Year watching dawn break and the world awaken from its slumber just as he reaches the summit of all twenty six steps to the top of the shrine, shrouded in the bare branches of the wisteria trees. He tosses coins into the box, drops into a deep bow twice, chin at waist level, clapping twice before bowing a final time. His mother buys far too many omamori, presses at least half of them into his unwilling hands when the omikuji he draws has a great curse scribbled on it. He’s not superstitious, so it doesn’t bother him, but he knows his mother is, so he does accept the omamori with some grace, though he draws the line at the love charm she tries to sneak into the pile. 

‘Mum, I’m too busy at school for a partner’, he tells her firmly. ‘Why don’t you pass it to Yuji-kun, he’s already started work, but hasn’t found a girlfriend from what Oba-chan tells me’. His elder cousin shoots him a particularly malevolent glare that he meets with a placid smile as his mother diverts her attention to him instead.

The faintest shiver runs up his fingers when he deposits the old charm he found in the corner of his closet, grey and faded with time, in the koshinsatsu osamedokoro, the omamori drop off open only during the first day of the New Year. The shiver turns into a ripple of cool water racing up his wrists and roars into an tsunami of dread when the attendant tells him all deposited charms will be burnt in the ritual fire in a fortnight’s time, but he writes it off as a symptom of his lack of sleep and starts to turn away. 

There’s a sudden echo of a nightmare of raging flames that prompts him to swivel around to snatch the omamori and stuff it back in his pocket, muttering apologies to the shocked attendant. Later, when he has time to process his impulse, he’d find it strange. In the meantime however, the festivities wait for no one, so he distracts himself by eating far too much dango and mochi in between rounds of tossing kites up to catch the wind. His uncles slip him full cups of sake and sweetened rice wine to his mother’s disapproval, which in hindsight he should have heeded, as he stumbles to bed that night, head heavy with alcohol. 

That night he dreams of a girl with curly hair, lying in a field of endless gold - daffodils to mark the dawn of spring. 

‘Also known as narcissus’, he hears himself say, hears himself narrate the myth of a man so entranced by his own reflection in the water that he lost his will when he realizes he cannot have his object of desire. A girlish voice lilts teasingly – ‘the flowers are too pretty to be ruined by your obsession of stories written by grumpy old men’. He wakes up with the ghost of laughter on his lips, but there’s a lingering sense of loss budding in barren soil of his heart. 

It does prompt him to pop by the florist near his parents’ house to order a bouquet of daffodils for his mom to be delivered on the first day of spring. He’s accustomed to the old couple running the shop, so he pauses just for a second when he walks into the store to find a new girl at the counter. She must not be used to customers yet, dropping the bouquet she’s working on when she notices him. 

‘Hi’, she stammers, cheeks pink. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I’d like to make an advance order for daffodils please.’ 

‘For spring?’ she asks, and he nods, writing down his parents’ address when prompted. ‘That’s a good choice!’ 

She waves him off with a cheerful – ‘please come back again’, and he does not notice that there are stars in her eyes. 

His mother drags him back to the shrine on the third day of the holidays, and he obliges her, ever the dutiful only son, even though the frigid temperature makes his breath puff up into clouds and the tip of his nose turns numb. The old omamori is still snug in his jacket pocket, and as his fingers brush against it, he can feel the threads of the charm unravelling, the fabric almost fragile in its worn, threadbare state but he does not attempt to dispose of it again.  

‘What are you going to do once you’re done with your degree, Keiji?’ His mother asks, when they stop by an old teahouse for a cup of steaming genmaicha, the aroma of roasted rice tea warm against his cold nose. 

‘I intend to apply for a job at a publishing company after I graduate’, he tells her seriously, and she nods, encouraging him to continue. ‘I’m hoping it’s something to do with my major, preferably Japanese literature, better yet if it's poetry, but in this market, I’ll take what I can get’. 

His mother nods, smiling at him fondly. ‘I remember you used to be obsessed with Shakespeare and Greek myths when you were younger, all the way through high school, and your father and I thought that you’d end up majoring in that in university. You really surprised us when you chose to major in Japanese literature instead.’

‘I don’t know why, to be honest. Maybe I had a good Japanese literature tutor?’ He laughs, fiddling with his teacup. 

‘Mm I don’t think so though. I remember you complaining that Raku-sensei was so dull he caused everyone to fall asleep.’ He shrugs, and though she stares at him curiously, she does not pursue the line of conversation any further. 

That night he dreams of waking up in an old wooden house, shivering in a thick futon, the smoldering embers from the irori, mere inches from his face. It’s so very different from his childhood bedroom filled with modern appliances and walls of books neatly shelved in alphabetical order, but he doesn’t notice that in the dark. Instead, he reaches for his phone to check the time, bolting awake because that can’t be, he never misses his alarm, mentally calculating that he must leave the house in exactly fifteen minutes to make it in time for practice when a little boy bursts through the door. 

‘Nee-chan’, the little boy whines. ‘I’m hungry. Time for breakfast’. 

Did he just say Nee-chan? Scratch that - since when did he have a little brother? 

He scrambles out of bed, groping his way in the dark to the washroom. The cold water should wake him up, but when he looks up at the mirror above the sink, the face he’s staring at does not belong to him. No - it belongs to a dark eyed girl with curly hair - but it doesn’t make sense, shouldn’t make sense, because when he reaches a trembling finger to poke at the mirror, he is she or she is him - 

The ensuing panic and confusion makes him jerk out of his dream, but when he rushes to the washroom to check that he’s still himself, he is relieved to see that it’s still him - Akaashi Keiji, with dark circles around his eyes, staring back in disbelief. 

He chalks his strange dream up to the stress he carries around from trying to clear all his course work so he can audit additional classes over the next term. 

Except the dreams don’t stop, not even when he moves back to the university dorms. He keeps waking up drenched in cold sweat, clutching at his arms even though they’re clear of the scratches he sees in his dreams, red and raw and stretching all the way up his elbows. 

‘Be kinder to Hana-chan, Keiji-kun’, he hears the call of the same girl in his mind and he shudders, unsure whether the disembodied voice floating through his mind is a memory from his dream. ‘She’s going through an awfully tough time’.

‘It doesn’t give her the right to hurt you like that’, he can hear his faint disapproval. 

‘Never mind that, it’s not a big deal. What are we reading today – don’t tell me it’s anything like Hamlet. That was horrendously depressing.’ 

‘Midsummer’s Night Dream? It’s a romantic comedy at least.’

‘Only a nerd like you would read Shakespeare in high school – and it’s not even in Japanese!’

‘Hush – you don’t get to complain when I’m reading it out to you.’

‘What on earth is going on’, he mutters to himself. The copious amounts of frigid water he splashes onto his face is no antidote to this madness.

‘Sato-san, are you feeling alright?’ he asks his grimacing classmate in concern, lines of pain etched onto her face. 

‘I’m fine, Akaashi-kun’, she manages to spit out, clutching her stomach with white-knuckled hands. ‘It’ll pass in a bit, I hope’. 

‘Are you sure you’re fine? I could help you to the nurse’s office if that helps’. 

His classmate shakes her head, a blush staining her cheeks. ‘It’s just that time of the month. I apologise if that’s too much information to be polite’. 

Ah. But somehow even though he has no sisters, and his female classmates in high school were oddly reticent about their periods (strange, considering it is part and parcel of being a mammal for far more than a millenium) the steps to deal with this particular conundrum come to him so naturally it’s almost as if the answers were presented to him previously in a dream. 

‘Here’, he passes Sato-san painkillers, chocolate and a hot water bottle he’d managed to talk the university nurse into loaning him, and Sato practically whimpers in gratitude. 

‘You’re a lifesaver, Akaashi-kun’, she tells him and he nods, content that he’s solved the problem so efficiently. 

That night he wakes up in her body again. The room is dark, save for the sliver of white light between the blinds that allows him to discern the growing crimson stain between her legs. 

‘Don’t you know all women have to deal with this nonsense every month? But I’ll tell you a trick - painkillers, chocolate and a hot water bottle will make you feel as right as rain’, he hears her voice declare in his mind, and he startles awake to find himself back in his own bed, blessedly clear of any bloodstains. 

It must be a dream borne out of what happened today, he tells himself firmly and shrugs it off. The rest of his slumber is thankfully shorn of dreams. 

But then these dreams start to crash into his sleep like a series of never ending waves, and he’s a short hop, skip, jump away from falling off the cliff into a distracted madness, the rate his sleep keeps getting disrupted. He keeps waking up in her body, it makes him feel like a creep, wearing her skin like an ill-fitting glove, and he decided does not think about how strange it feels to have twin lumps of flesh in front of his chest (his mother raised him to be a gentleman, after all). 

The contents of these dreams are relatively cyclical. He wakes up at dawn, puts on her school uniform, makes breakfast for the little boy - Toya-chan over the primitive hearth before rushing to school through dirt paths lined with trees. His - or rather her classmates stare at her with a mix of condescension and apathy, and her hours in school are spent in a lonely silence, save when Hana-chan gets up in her face and screams absolute nonsense about staying the fuck away from her, which seems a little dramatic considering she’s the one doing the confronting, but it’s just a dream, so he keeps telling himself. It’s not like he can change anything about it. 

‘Does it bother you? That you’re alone?’ he asks her one day. 

‘Not really. I have you and Toya-chan, don’t I?’ she responds. 

‘I suppose’, he says, voice trailing off. 

He catches glimpses of sun drenched afternoons spent in fields of flowers, glances of dusky evenings spent in the forest basking in the light of the setting sun. He agonizes over stacks of homework, digs for mushrooms in the damp earth, climbs through wire fences to scavenge for eggs in neighbouring farms. 

‘Aren’t your parents worried about you and Toya-chan?’ he can hear himself question her one night. 

‘My mom is dead and my dad can’t be home often, he works on construction projects around Sapporo. He sends cash to me and Toya-chan, and it isn’t always enough, but he tries his best ’, she answers, her voice feather light. 

‘I’m sorry’, he tells her a little awkwardly, thinking about his happy family and wondering how it’d feel like to have them torn away from him so early on in life. 

‘Don’t be’, she replies, ‘Sometimes I wonder if it’s better to have good parents who’re dead or absent rather than horrible parents who’re still alive’. 

He jolts awake again, relieved to find himself back in his bed. It’s barely four in the morning, but he’s not going to be able to sleep after that, so he resigns himself to using the time to get cracking on his college assignments anyway. But he makes sure to call his mother once day breaks and he’s sure she’s returned from the market with groceries in tow, telling her awkwardly that he’s just calling to catch up and hopes she’s been well and ok bye mum I love you very much, heart pounding when he hangs up abruptly. 

He has a standing appointment on the first Thursday every month to meet Kenma for coffee at a café a stone’s throw away from Waseda. They both order black coffee, which is strange for Kenma considering his legendary sweet tooth, but he knows Kenma too well to know that the ridiculously successful game streamer is only drinking coffee to stay awake, the shadows under his eyes deeper and darker than those under Akaashi’s own eyes.  

‘Doesn’t Kuroo-san nag you go to bed at a decent time?’ 

Kenma doesn’t even bother to flick his eyes up, busy gulping mouthfuls of the bitter liquid. ‘Speak for yourself. Not sleeping well either?’ 

Akaashi shrugs his shoulders helplessly, stirring his coffee. ‘Mm. ‘I’ve been having strange recurring dreams and it’s been affecting my sleep’. 

Kenma merely hums in reply, and Akaashi finds himself spilling out the entire weird series of events – though to be absolutely accurate, his dreams aren’t real so they can’t be termed as events, but they’ve been haunting him for the past month so they might as well be at this rate. He explains about finding himself in the body of a high school girl with curly hair and a dimple on one cheek, how he’s lived her life enough in the past month that he can map out her days with startling certainty, how he knows it’s not real – it can’t be real, but his dreams glimmer with such vibrancy that they feel real. 

‘Am I going crazy?’ he asks. 

‘I highly doubt it’, Kenma says, tapping his chin in thought. ‘Maybe it’s like one of those exploration video games where you have to take your time to discover its world to figure out the narrative the game is feeding you.’ 

Trust Kenma to relate everything to video games. 

‘That was singularly unhelpful’, Akaashi says dryly as Kenma chuckles quietly in response. 

He is almost afraid to fall asleep again but his eyelids are weighed down by weeks’ worth of sleep deprivation and soon he finds himself again in her body. 

It’s a clear winter’s night. He’s huddled under a thick blanket to shield himself from the bitter cold, watching the embers in the hearth glow yellow and gold. 

‘It’s late. Can’t sleep?’ 

‘Mm’ he replies. ‘Wondering what tomorrow will bring.’ 

‘You’re overthinking again, Keiji’, she chuckles. ‘Tomorrow’s going to be just another day. You’ll wake up back in your warm bed at the crack of dawn for volleyball practice, attend classes in your fancy private school, and play even more volleyball with your beloved Bokuto-san’. 

He rolls his eyes heavenwards at her words and her laugh this time is loud, bright. 

‘You know I only speak the truth. Now, since you need to wake up ridiculously early tomorrow, why don’t I tell you a bedtime story so you can fall asleep.’

‘I’m not a child’, he replies dryly, but does not object when she starts to narrate the tale of a princess exiled from the moon, who is raised by a humble woodcutter and his wife to become a renowned beauty, with five suitors seeking her hand. ‘That’s mean of her’, he mumbles as she describes how the princess rebuffs her suitors by setting them impossible tasks, drifts to sleep as her voice softens as she describes how the princess falls in love with the Emperor, but breaks both their hearts because she knows she must return to the moon someday. He’s fast asleep when she reaches the ending where the princess leaves all her memories on earth with tears in her eyes, gifting the emperor with an elixir of immortality which he burns, because he declares life isn’t worth living without her. 

‘Goodnight Keiji’, she says, her voice shimmering in the still night air.   

For the first time in a long while, Akaashi wakes up at peace. 

Taglist: 

@1tooru @animeflower26 @kageyamakock

[bxebxee]

What I have to say: This is really not what I typically write, but please allow me my self-indulgence. Also, I am rusty and unpracticed, but this made me happy to write. 

What this is: Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school. 

What this wants to be: Romance

What this warrants: Rated R for Rotten Relationships (and other things) 

You hold your sister’s new baby reverently. The baby is so small, and you’re scared that your bad morals would somehow seep into the skin through contact diffusion. 

“I feel like I’m already the irresponsible aunt,” you whisper, shooting your sister a terrified look. The baby isn’t even sleeping, but what if your bellowing voice would upset him. “Are you sure-” 

“Yes,” she says firmly, “You’ll be a good godparent. There’s literally nothing to do except spoil your nephew every now and again.” She pauses, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Unless we die. Then I guess you’d have to be more of a parental figure...” 

You and your brother-in-law interject at the same time in a cacophony of protest. 

“Okay, we are not dying,” he sighs as your octave increases by a half-step, “Please do not say that as I hold your offspring in my arms. I can’t feel them by the way. Seokjin, can you take him? I don’t want to drop him.” 

Seokjin takes the baby, and you feel bereft of warmth. It’s a weird feeling to note that considering your firm No Babies Policy. You miss the baby already. This is witchcraft. 

“It’s just a fucking hypothetical, relax,” your sister laughs, her eyes softening considerably as she sees Seokjin coo over his son. 

“If our baby’s first word is ‘fuck’ I am not taking responsibility,” Seokjin says mildly, eyes never leaving his baby. You don’t really blame him. 

“And you’re not blaming me either. I’ve been good,” you say. 

“Oh please, everyone curses younger these days anyway. I’d rather my son know than not know, you know?”  

“You’re pushing it,” Seokjin warns. 

“You’re such a dad,” she scoffs. 

“And you like it,” he counters. 

“Yeah,” she admits. “Yeah, I do.” 

You check your phone for the time, and it’s thirty minutes before the official start of the baby gathering. Time for you to leave. 

“Hey, it was good to see you guys. And the baby,” you tell them, hugging both lightly so as not to disturb the tenderness of the moment. Bear hugs were for a different day. “I have to head out, but I’ll come visit a lot, okay? I’ll even babysit. For free.” 

“Not staying for lunch?” your sister asks, looking very sad and disappointed, but you steel your heart. The two of you have inherited your mother’s knack of guilt-inducing looks, and you’re not about to fall for it. 

“Not today, no.” 

Seokjin nods, bidding you to take care. He knows why you want to leave before the crowd gets too heavy. 

Unfortunately for you, cosmic luck was not on your side because as soon as the front door shuts behind you, the elevator dings and Yoongi steps out, clad head to toe in celebrity black and holding five Burberry shopping bags. There’s no one around, so you don’t particularly feel the need to stand on the niceties of greetings and choose instead to brush past him in favor of the elevator. 

“And hello to you too.” he remarks sarcastically. 

“Go to hell,” you reply, wishing that you didn’t have to be in a close fucking hallway because you could smell his cologne. 

“Oh come on-” 

You press on the close door button rapidly, and the doors shut out Yoongi with a soft, muted click. 

Twelve hours later, you get a text from an unknown number. Coward is all it said. You stare at your phone screen in bed, seeing typing bubbles start and stop and start and stop. Mister Unknown Number finally settles on silence because nothing follows after the one-word epithet. 

It feels like a dare. 

--

Yoongi finally puts his phone down. You were too smart and too self-respecting to try this all over again with him, and he wants to kick himself for ever thinking that goading you would work when you were clearly over him-

His phone vibrates intensely and consistently. You’re calling him. 

“Hello,” Yoongi says, picking up the phone after just a single ring. Desperate, to be sure, but he wasn’t positive you’d wait for five rings anyway. 

“You changed your number again,” you say without preamble. 

“I’ve actually had this number for two years now,” Yoongi says. “Been getting hacked less and less. Guess you never saved the number.” 

“Why would I?” you ask, petulance peppering every syllable of your words. 

“Why didn’t you stay for the luncheon?” he asks instead of answering your question. 

“And sit in a room with you for a couple of hours pretending everything’s normal? No thanks,” you scoff. “And luncheon? Really?”

“You missed out on the shrimp toast.” 

“I think I’ll live.” 

“So why’d you call?” 

You could take the easy way out. Save your pride and your face, and pretend that you still don’t carry a torch for Yoongi. You could lie and say you just wanted to call and make sure it really was him. But you were always a glutton for pain, and he was all too happy to oblige to your needs. 

“You wanna come over?” you offer, not feeling an ounce of trepidation that he’d reject you. Yoongi always came when you asked. 

“Where do you live?” 

“It’s the same place as last time.” It’s a test. Let’s see if he even remembers my address-

“Be there in thirty.” 

--

He’s late by a few minutes, but Yoongi explains through interrupted kisses and hasty undressing that there was traffic, and he showered- 

“You could have showered here, you know,” you mutter, pawing at his dick and biting down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Yoongi always like a little pain.

“I’ll shower here after.” (After he fucked you at least twice, minimum. After he got to see you naked and temporarily his. After he was somewhat satisfied but much too sweaty for sleep.) 

And then it’s No Talking Time for a short while because he has your face occupied with inhaling scant oxygen against the mattress while his own head was buried between your asscheeks and legs, lapping and sucking at you like he had something to prove. Could this count as some form of asphyxiation? Probably. You don’t expect his mouth to make you feel close to losing control. The act had always unnerved you, but you found yourself uncaring of past discomforts and losing yourself into the feeling of soft, insistent lips. 

Yoongi eats you out with soft grunts, hands holding your thighs apart and firm. Don’t move, his hands say. His tongue up your cunt isn’t any sort of giving on Yoongi’s part; this was all selfish. He wants you to cum and feel starstruck and ruined, wants you to get it through your head that your flesh craved his flesh in the same animalistic way he needed you. 

You turn your head around just enough to be able to get out, “You can sto-” 

But he silences you with a warning slap on the ass. You are not to be deterred. 

“Stop with the tongue,” you order. 

“You’re insane,” he hisses, pulling away and shamelessly licking his lips. “You can’t ever just let me-” 

“Put it in now,” you demand. 

Yoongi lets out a terse sigh. “I should just leave right now,” he grumbles, getting up on his knees to rub his dick against you and nudges the head on your opening. “I shouldn’t be here.” He presses inside at “here” and wrenches a moan from your lips. 

“Then leave,” you sigh, pressing your ass back against him, relishing in the feeling of being filled again by Yoongi. “Just go home and jerk off instead. That’s what you’re good at, right? Leaving me?” 

“You’re a bitch for bringing that up during sex,” Yoongi says, fucking into you steadily and slowly, resisting the urge to pound into you like his baser instincts demanded. He was going to enjoy you for as long as he wanted. He knew you wanted it rough and bordering on violent, but he wasn’t going to add more ammo to your already large arsenal of Reasons To Hate Min Yoongi. 

Yoongi leans over completely, letting his torso lay flush against your back, unbothered by your sweat as it mixed with his own. You were going to feel every last inch of him inside and out. He pumps in and out slowly, sucking on your neck and breathing into your hair with audible moans of enjoyment. 

“I’m not leaving,” he groans, reaching over to rub your lower stomach gently, as if comforting you. The intimacy of this wasn’t lost on you, but you can’t find the words to tell him off. You missed his heat and the familiar weight. You are only human, after all. 

Yoongi threads his fingers through your unkempt hair, stroking gently before balling his fists into a pronounced grip. He turns your head to the side and kisses you, your neck straining from the awkward, uncomfortable position. But it reminds you of the beginning - of the before times when things were easier in the shadows of his success and unavailability. 

It’s impossible not to feel things when he fucks you this way, and kisses you, and moans soft nothings into your ear like you’re the only woman he’s ever done this with. You are atrocious at protecting your heart, and even after two years of icing him out, Yoongi barges into you like it’s nothing. 

“Don’t stop,” you moan, heart thumping against your chest. You really, really can’t stand to want him so much. 

“I won’t,” Yoongi reassures, kissing the corner of your eye. He doesn’t speed up, and instead chooses to test the limits of your patience with languorous but firm strokes. “Not until you tell me to.” 

There was nothing that compared to this - not heated fucks with attractive strangers, or money, or getting crossfaded by the Han River. When Yoongi did this to you, you almost felt like he loved you. 

--

Yoongi sleeps silently besides you in the sunlight, completely worn out after an emotionally exhausting round of sex that made him cry when he came inside you. He’s usually sensitive to the light, but he’s out cold and completely drained. You hadn’t expected that part - the crying. You thought it was just sweat until you heard rattling breaths and a hiccup. 

You watch him breathe silently from your place in his arms, unwilling to leave the small cocoon of warmth. You’re the opposite of him, and right now, you’re wired. You’ll probably end up crashing sometime later in the day, but for right now, you’re content to just watch him sleep in your bed, on your pillows, smelling like your body wash. 

You’re too old to be scared, and yet this moment fills you with dread; that once the spell of sex and yearning was broken, everything would tilt back to its regular axis, and you’d be all alone again. If you were younger, you might have up and left already. Leave him before he leaves you. And it’s not like you haven’t done that before. Your entire relationship with Yoongi is always filled with one person leaving behind the other one because nothing about the two of you ever lined up properly. 

But this time, you’re too tired to run away. So you close your eyes and pretend to sleep until it finally comes to claim you. 

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 6/?

Word Count: 2.6-2.7k idk exact

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (your best friend’s name)

MUSIC IS INCLUDED THIS TIME! Please enjoy my personal music playlist, or at least a snippet of it.

TO THE PERSON WHO REBLOGGED AND SAID THIS WAS CUTE (at least the first part) you straight up made me cry omfg

Warnings: Swearing, gets really fucking heated at the end (no sex, yet), no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Outfit Context:

Y/N:

Jason:

(Cause I finally found an outfit I liked on the boy, men’s fashion isn’t my strong suit,,, heh :) )

“Sorry, is my mouth hung open?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Very much so,” she mocked.

Jason closed his mouth and outstretched his hand for Y/N’s, cupping it with both hands and kissing the top of it.

“You just look so lovely, Y/N.”

“And you’re chivalrous, Jay. Now, should we get going?” she asked, putting her free hand on top of his two.

“Yes, let’s go,” he let one of his hands go of hers and lead her to the Porsche he brought with him, not intertwining his fingers with hers.

He opened the passenger’s side door and let Y/N get in, not letting go of her hand til the last moment he could hold it. He got in an turned on the radio,

It felt like a good night, for dancing in the moonlight,

In empty streets, well, everybody's got a reason why,

If we could only just get it right,

Maybe it will all work out like in the movies,

But I know Romeo must die before the ending,

With a final poison kiss delivered gently,

Because you don't get lucky twice, and that's the truth,

“Sing to me sweet just like my memory, 

If New York City Still moves me then I’ve found something real,

I’ll be okay, I could go on for days,

But I just don’t have the courage that it takes to be real,

And even if it’s dark at least we’ll be together,

Slowly sinking in the Earth to lay forever,

You better grab a hold and hold on for your life,

Because you don’t get lucky twice,

No, you don’t get lucky twice,” She sung with the tune.

Without the Bitter the Sweet Isn’t as Sweet - Mayday Parade

“You, you have the voice of an angel,” he said.

“It’s not that hard to mimic works of art with my voice.”

“Did you ever take singing lessons?”

“I did when I was younger, so I could sing French lullabies to my cousins.”

He placed a hand on her thigh as he drove them through the countryside of Gotham to Metropolis, taking the long way on what seemed like purpose. So he could encapsulate the moment in his memory for as long as he knew her and what she was to him. She was an adventure waiting to happen, a love story not yet written to tell for ages, a rock ‘n’ roll song written to please the masses in hidden corners of the world.

And to her, he was a masterwork of intertwining memories of pain, sadness, luck and beauty. A mind of complexity she was just waiting to dive into and see how it functioned. A story behind the white tuff of hair he had, why he was jacked to the masses if he was a book nerd. A story of his favourite book and his favourite sibling, his favourite trope, his love, his pain, him.

The moments where she stuck her hand out the window and traced symbols into the Autumn air swirling past the two as they cruised down the empty back roads. When he laughed as she sang Reste by GIMS and Sting. He didn’t understand the lyrics, but she did, and she called it a love song. Well, he got the parts Sting sung, but French wasn’t a language he knew like she did.

“I guess being Bilingual helped you out massively with that one, huh?”

“It’s a talent I never knew I needed, apparently.”

“Well, you did know you needed.”

“That’s fair,” she laughed, “ I guess I did always need it as a skill.”

“Do your cousins speak English too?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit? It’s better English than my father.”

“Can he not speak English?”

“Well, he can, just not well. But my mother is also Bilingual in English and French so they never had to worry about my father being bad at English. My twin sister and I grew up knowing both languages,” she rambled, still playing with the wind, “I guess it’s a one-up I have on a lot of people, being able to just talk and talk in another language, travelling advantage,” she kept going, Jason intently listening to her as she went on and on, he liked the silence being filled by her voice, “You know? You might know, I don’t know how you were raised to a T,” she finished.

“Well, I can assure you I only know English so you have that theoretical one-up on me, too. But I choose to see that one-up as something you can teach me as time goes on and we progress,” he paused, “If you’re down to get serious eventually, that is,” he panicked.

“Well, maybe we’re at that point where we can say we’re casually seeing each other and exclusive, but not serious. Hopeful, but not pressuring ourselves into something that’s going to be put under a lot of pressure as we go on,” she said, still playing with the wind.

“We’ll see about that after dinner.”

“Where are we even going?”

“Fancy little restaurant with a balcony facing over the city,” he assured.

“Really out here living for the moments?”

“Well, most girls crack under the pressure of the paparazzi, you, however, flipped them off, and that’s being rewarded for showing that you can’t give a fuck about those dingy ass tabloids and how they treat you, by taking you out to nice places,” he said.

She laughed, “I’m glad I’m never going to live that one down, it was really fun to do.”

“I hope it continues as we go along, I would hate to see that behavior change when it brings a smile to everyone who’s ever been harassed by paparazzi” when they pulled over for a second, Jason quickly loosened his tie a tad, “Honestly, I want to ditch this fucking tie,”

“It’s not you,” she said, “It’s just not.”

“And you know me that well to take that guess?”

“I could see you struggling with it from a mile away, Jason. Maybe the fancy restaurant isn’t us,” she laughs, “But we aren’t going to not take that dinner date.”

“Oh we’re so going to take that date, but I’m thinking from here on out we do whatever the fuck we want, no fancy dates. Thoughts?” he asked.

“Done deal,” she said.

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

In the restaurant, the two of them were basically the worst people to be there, it was levels of fancy that neither of them actually wanted, they both wanted simplicity, but they both thought the presence of the other person was enough of a takeaway from the completely wrong choice of restaurant. They had Dick to blame for this one, and Jason made that clear to Dick in a joking text while Y/N snuck off to the bathroom to ‘fix her hair, she was actually checking her breath.

Dick, this fucking restaurant is a god damn bust, man. We aren’t you and Barbara, that’s what we’ve discovered today. lol.

Bummer! We really like that place.

I can see why it screams Dick and Barbs.

You kissed her yet though?

No.

Wuss! Cat got your tongue? Just do it, man.

And at the same time, Y/N was texting A/N about Jason and what to do,

Girl! Thank you so much for reminding me to bring mints, my god, food ruins your breath so much.

You really want the pretty boy kiss huh?

No, I’m eating the mints to not kiss him, YES I WANT THE KISS.

Ha! Honesty is key, just go for it.

She laughed as she packed her phone into her dress pockets (Yeah there’s fucking pockets :) ) and went to leave the restroom to meet up with Jason again. To which, Jason had already paid and tipped the waiter.

“I could have at least helped on the tip, Jay.”

“I tipped him 200%, but if you want to drop more cash, go for it.”

“You tipped that much?” she asked while slipping in a 50$ she had on her.

“Of course, food service workers deserve a lot more than what they get, especially when they have to deal with terrible customers,” he said as he went and grabbed her hand again, not intertwining fingers again, “And my best friend, Will, he complains about people who don’t tip and praises people who quote ‘over tip’ but I think that he deserves 200% each bill for the shit he puts up with.”

“Did you tip him when we went there?”

“No, I called in a ‘No questions asked’ favour. And before you say anything, he did the same to make me babysit his daughter-”

“Your best friend has a daughter?”

“Well, he’s older than me, but yeah, he’s a single dad because her mum kind of sucks, lovely little girl, I’m her godfather.”

“Does she call you Uncle Jason?”

“Well, Uncle Jay, it’s like one of the only works she knows how to say properly, and Dada,” he laughed, “Great little girl,” he said, nervously, “This doesn’t change anything, does it? ‘Cause if he, knock on fucking wood, lord forbids, dies that will be my daughter.”

“Well, he’s not dead and you’re not worrying that he’s going to die, so nothing has to change. God kids are god kids, noble that you took on your best friend’s kid if, lord forbid, anything happens to the man, really,” she assured.

He sighed and kissed the back of her hand, “Then that is just a gift on top of what I did,” he smiled and lead her back to the Porsche once again, opening the car door for her and she slightly turned on the radio, he let out a small laugh to himself, he got the pretty girl. He got into the Porsche again and began backing out.

“There’s something about ditching a really expensive dinner date that leaves you wanting more,” she said, absent-mindedly.

“What kind of more?” he asked.

“The kind you see in the movies, fully exposed and adventurous, you know?”

“Well, we could always sneak into the Wayne Manor Gardens and dance the night away under the stars like lovers do,” he half-joked, placing a hand on her thigh again and pretending like he did it subconsciously, but he was hyper-aware, especially when he caught her smile as she laughed.

“Wayne Manor? With your brothers, sisters, dad, and grandfather?” she paused, “If you’re serious, then no, not tonight. If you’re pulling my leg then, hell fucking no,” she joked.

“Maybe one day, then, huh?”

“One day, for sure. When it isn’t scary to accidentally run into your family on their property running around with you,” she said.

“Well, we can always go into the Wayne Enterprises Ballroom and dance the night away, no one should be in the office for a while and even then since there are no classes in the entire school tomorrow you can just hide out in my office if we stay too long,” he paused to make sure she was still listening, “Security can’t question me because I’m Bruce Wayne’s son, and security is tight as fuck so paparazzi can’t get to us,” he paused to put a little bit of pressure on her thigh, “What do you say? Can I have this dance, Milady?” he half-joked.

“You want to know something Jason?

“Always, Y/N.”

“I took dance lessons when I was younger, can you Waltz?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am, I can.”

“Then I’m in, let’s go.”

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

She loved the feeling of being back in her new hometown, Gotham. So when they pulled into the massive black building, she felt even more welcomed, security at the gates did ask ‘Who’s the girl?’ but Jason just explained it very easily,

“You know that date of mine that flipped off the press and you lot loved it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the man responded.

“You can call me Jason, you know that. But this is that girl.”

And they were let through the parking gates and into the underground parking system, they had to travel surprisingly far to Jason’s reserved spot in the lot, but the did get there before it hit AM. Once out of the car, Jason grabbed her hand and they ran into the building’s employees doors. It was a tight squeeze, but the feeling of Jason pressed so close to her sent chills down her spine. They went through many halls and reached the Ballroom, and entering it was like a dream for her.

Walls lined with intricate shapes and colours, but the colours never brought away from the stage at the far end from the door, the curtains seemed to redden with each step towards them, the 3, maybe 4 chandeliers hung above her like crystals in the ocean, it was amazing and beautiful. Checkered floorboards to give it a little bit of dimension, but it was the same colour as the main wall so your brain and eyes wouldn’t hurt after looking at it. It was stunningly beautiful and that’s what drew her in.

When he grabbed her hand and put on Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine, pulling her close to his chest and slowly Waltzing her around the room, spinning her when it felt right for him to do. Neither of them worried about the sloppiness or how it looked to the naked eye because it was for them. no one got satisfaction like they did at that moment. And grabbing her for one last dip was Jason’s goal when the ending of the song hit, although out of breath and his face stuffed in her chest as they both panted, he did pull her up so they were face-to-face on the dancefloor that they wiped clean.

“Did I tell you that you look stunning, Y/N?”

“I think you mentioned it a few times, Jay,” she said, staring directly into his eyes.

“Well, I mean it.”

“And I’m going to mean this,” she paused, taking her hand and placing it on his cheek, “ The way your eyes are a green-blue tint makes me lost in them, they’re like a sea of this mind I find myself liking more and more every day,” she paused to put her other hand on his other cheek, “And the way your nose and cheek freckles frame them is amazing.”

And he went for it. Somehow when he pressed his lips into hers, it felt like they were meant to match, and they both opened their mouths to play the coveted game of tongue-war, but they didn’t play by the rules, it was soft and sweet but full of passion and love, not lust. His hands would travel to her waist and lightly grip her, while her hands would travel to his neck and drape around the back of it.

They pulled away at the same moment to take in air, something they had clearly been missing as they were connected, they both let out a small chuckle before she put her hands in his hair and went in for round 2.

This time it was hungrier, and they both played with the shapes of the other so much more as time went on, he would grab her ass and she would pull on his hair slightly before he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and moved one of her hands to the nape of his neck, this time, they would break for seconds only to start moving towards his office, which, conveniently, had a couch.

To say he threw her on that couch would be an understatement, he fucking thrust her on that couch and climbed on top of her, it was like 3 days of passion and lust combined themselves in a matter of minutes from their first kiss to them meeting on the couch. They both knew deep down that it couldn’t escalate further than this, especially at 1 in the morning, but time moves fast when you’re connecting in this way.

They finally broke after their passionate exchange and he fell to her side and began to spoon her, “Worth it,” he whispered.

“Worth what?” she asked.

“It was worth it to take a chance and defy my anxieties to ask you on that first date.”

“I don’t like a reality where you didn’t ask me on that date.”

“Neither do I, and I’m positive of that.”

[let-me-luve-you]

Overlooked and Overworked

Tom Holland x Sister

Summary: Being Tom Holland’s little sister was great growing up, but after his success she’s a little left behind. Y/N Holland is willing to do whatever for her family because she loves them.

Warnings: Angst, fluff ending, rude Tom, overworked, sleep deprived

A/N: I don’t think Tom or any of the members of the Holland’s would allow this to happen to any member of their family or friends, I just had this idea and wrote it. Also I wrote this back in like January and just now got the guts to post it!

MASTERLIST    BUY ME A COFFEE

The past couple of years for you have been an emotional roller coaster. You’ve been so excited and happy to see your brother succeed in his career. It’s always fun to see him on the big screen as someone else. But it’s also been tiring and sad because you feel left out. You don’t get to go to set often, you don’t get to travel with him, and you aren’t a part of his charity. The Brothers Trust is just him and your 3 other brothers. Given you help out way more than all of the brothers. Since you went to school for business, you help your mum and dad with both of their businesses and then run The Brothers Trust.

Tom is the oldest, then it’s you, the twins, and then Paddy. You’re only a year and a half younger than Tom. You were very close growing up, but once he started doing movies, you slowly grew apart. Him and the twins then grew closer. You loved him dearly but it just wasn’t the same since you never felt included. He took Harry to sets with him and on press tours. Sam would join along when he wasn’t working at the restaurant. Paddy would join during school breaks. But every time you would try to join him, he would say no. That he was too busy or too tired. You didn’t want to fight him but you were always crushed.

When he got the role of Spiderman, he decided then he wanted to move out into his own apartment. You offered to help him find a place since you had been looking for yourself. You offered to share a place and split rent but he said he wanted to be completely on his own. But shortly after he moved into his new 4 bedroom apartment, he had Harrison, Tuwaine, Sam, and Harry move in.

“The twins are moving in with Tom. Can you help pack and move them this weekend?” Your dad asked.

“What? They’re moving in with Tom? I thought he wanted his own space?” You asked him.

“He said he wanted to be around people because it was too lonely and quiet. Did you ever find a place? If so, you may want roommates too.”

“No I realized I can’t afford a place in a nice area to live alone. All my mates have moved off to continue their education or they have jobs else where.” You said sadly.

“Tom should of asked you then. I’m sorry y/n/n.”

“It’s fine. He hangs out with all four of them all the time. I would of just been in the way.” You said as you got up and left the room.

It’s been a couple of years and you still can’t afford to get your own place. Between helping run three businesses, you don’t have time to get a part time job. You pay your parents for rent and help pay bills so you are doing adult things. Plus it helps your parents financially. It’s busy season since your mum is picking up gigs for photoshoots, your dad is on tour for standup and his new book, plus you are planning a movie event through the trust as well as trying to get all the merch bagged and shipped. You have been working 14-15 hour days for the past 3 weeks without a day off. You are feeling the tiredness mentally and physically.

Tom has time off from the movie he is filming now. They gave him a month off for the holidays. Him and Harry have been home but all they have done is hung out with friends and go to the pub. You have been holed up in your office/bedroom for 3 days straight. Only to go out to the bathroom and kitchen to grab food.

“Where has y/n been? I haven’t seen much of her since we got home.” Harry asks Tom.

“She might be finalizing the Spies in Disguise event and getting things ready.” Tom responded.  

“Oh good. Y/n is great at getting a head start on things so I’m guessing she’s done with all the prep and souvenirs.” Harry smiled. Tom laughed in response.

On Christmas Day, you only came out of your room for breakfast and lunch and then went back in your room to work. No one noticed the bags under your eyes that you tried to hide with makeup. No one noticed you almost falling asleep at the table. No one thought twice about why you spent most of Christmas alone in your room. But you were behind. You still had a lot of orders to fulfill and send out. You still had get all of the souvenirs together for the event that was in two days. You still had to finish sending out your dads orders for his book as well as finalize his January travel plans and stand up dates. Your mum had booked 12 more shoots and you had to finalize times and dates. And everything was supposed to be done in the next week. You finally caved and decided to ask Tom for help since it was his event after all.

“Hey Tom can I have you help me out for a little bit?” You asked him Christmas evening.

“Do you need me tonight?” He asked.

“If you can that would be great.”

“Sorry y/n/n. I can’t. I’m meeting to boys at the apartment.”

“Well maybe they can help too.” You sounded hopeful to get more help to lighten your load.

“No can do. We have drinks and plans.”

“Well then can you come tomorrow morning or early afternoon?”

“Can’t. I have a meeting with my manager to discuss everything that’s coming up and then all of us at the apartment and Paddy are going into the city. Maybe I can help you after the event?”

“No it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.” You said sadly as you turned to go back to your room.

“What about Paddy? Or mum or dad?” He asked.

“Paddy has football that mum is taking him to before she does a shoot tomorrow. Dad is working on some other stuff for his January shows.”

“Sam or Harry?”

“Well both will be with you tonight and tomorrow.”

“What about in the morning?”

“Sam has to work remember. And I think Harry is meeting with some mates to catch up with them or something along those lines. It’s fine. I’ve got it handled. Have fun tonight and tomorrow. Be safe. Love you.” You turned and almost ran back to your room. You wanted to break down in tears from being overwhelmed and for not being included in any of Tom’s plans of hanging out and catching up. You’ve barely seen Tom in the past year. Only when he’s in London. You shook the thoughts of your brother out of your head and pulled out a sheet of paper. You wrote down everything that needed to be done. Then on your white board, wrote them down in most important the least important.

First up was getting all of the brothers trust bags done. You went to the storage closest and pulled out everything you would need and set the boxes on your bed. Then you went and grabbed a tote to put the finished product in. It took you until 4 am, but you finally finished putting them together. You went into the kitchen and made you some tea. You went back in your room and marked the brothers trust goody bags off of your list. Next you started finalizing plans for your mum. That just involved organizing times and dates. You finished that around 1030 am. You marked that off the list as well.

Before you emailed all of the clients their dates and times, you went to the kitchen to grab and snack and drink. Your mum was in the kitchen.

“Morning love.” She smiled at you.

“Morning.” You said back waiting on your tea.

“So I’m going to drop Paddy off at football in 20 minutes and then Tom will pick him up to go into the city. I have to go to my shoot. Do you have the invoice I can give them?”

“I do.” You rushed to your room and grabbed it from a folder then went back and handed it to her. “Everything is on there. The deposit has been paid and it shows that as well as the price for the shoot and the editing. It also gives the timeline of when they will get the pictures.”

“Great. This is wonderful. Thank you. Also the theater called and said we can set it up today at 3 pm. Are you okay to handle that on your own?”

You sighed but answered, “yes I can handle it. I finished the bags last night. I just need to print off the papers to put on the seats as well. Plus get the itinerary finished which I will have by tonight so Tom knows what’s going on.”

“That’s great. I’ll be there to take photos as well as Harry but the boys will all be busy with fans and making sure they all feel special.”

“Sounds good. Have fun on your shoot.”

Your mum smiled as her and paddy left the house. You went back into your room and emailed everyone for your mum. Then you printed the brothers trust sheets that said what the event was supporting and how we were thankful for their donations. As those were printing you forgot you had to pick up an order of pictures so Tom could sign them for the guest coming to the screening. You looked up and saw that it was 130 and if you were going to be on time you needed to leave in the next 15 minutes.

After you loaded the goody bags into your car, you drove the 20 minutes to the print shop to pick up the pictures. You then went to the theater and set everything out. It took 45 minutes to lay everything out and make sure it was perfect. You then snagged some photos for Instagram and posted them. By the time you got home it was just shy of 5. You went straight to your room to finalize the itinerary. At 8 pm your mum knocked on the door.

“Hey baby. I’m back. How did everything go setting up wise?”

“It was good. Took longer than expected but wasn’t too bad for being the only one there. Also here is the itinerary for you and dad. I also have one for each of the boys.”

“Wow. This is detailed perfectly.”

“It kind of had to be since Tom has an event to go to tomorrow night and he can’t be late. I figured the more detailed, the less things can go wrong.”

“Fair point. Love I’m not sure if the boys notice the work you put in, but I do. Have you slept yet?”

You looked at her shocked, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that I can tell you are exhausted. I woke up at 2 am last night and heard you in here and saw your light was still on.” She paused and looked at your long list on the white board. “And by the looks of it, you have a long to do list. Do you need help? After we get through the event I can help. I don’t have a shoot for a couple of days.”

“I appreciate mum, but this list needs to be done by then. And everything you can help me with will be done already. But thank you.”

“Did you ask your brothers to help? I mean this is there thing. They should be helping you. Not leaving it to you to do yourself.”

“I asked Tom to help so I could have him do the goody bags for tomorrow but he had a guys night with Sam and Harry and them last night. Then they were all busy this morning and then went into the city. But it’s fine. I did the bags last night. That’s what you heard when you woke up.”

“I’m sorry baby. I’m going to have a talk with him. Have you had a break to just hangout with Tom. I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen him.”

“No he’s always in a meeting or with the boys. But if Tom wanted to see me, he’d make time but when I try, he can’t. But with all this work, I haven’t really done much outside of this room in a while so it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. You both used to be so close. Almost like you were twins. Weirdly enough closer than the twins have ever been. I hope you two can work whatever this is out.”

“Me too mum. Me too.” You looked at her as she slowly walked out.

After your mum left the room, you got back to work finalizing your dads stuff. Thankfully it was only 12 am when you finished. Deciding to pack all of the orders so you can drop them off to be shipped in the morning, you went and grabbed everything you would need from the storage closet and got to work. You stayed up all night working. You finally finished all the orders at 9 am. When you realized the time you rushed to get dressed and cleaned up as best you could. By 10 am you were out the door to go to the post office to ship the orders and then you were off to the theater to make sure everything was set. By 1pm the rest of your family showed up. And by 2 the theater was full of people who were excited to see the brothers and the movie.

People knew who you were. Everyone knew Tom had a sister. But you did great staying out of the eye of people. None of your brothers posted much about you on social. Your dad mainly posted about Tom and the brothers golf adventures. Your mum would occasionally when she made you model when she was trying something new. So when people arrived, they walk past you and straight to the four brothers who were ready to greet everyone.

When the event started, you weren’t really needed so you went to a back room they had set up for your brothers to relax away from people and sat on the couch. Not sleeping since Christmas Eve was starting to catch up with you but some how you forced yourself to stay awake.

“Y/n we have a problem.” Your youngest brother said as he came in the room. “The movie hasn’t started yet and it was supposed to 15 minutes ago.”

“Okay I’ll go see what’s going on.” You went to the manager of the theater and she explained to you how the light in the projector went out and it was going to be another 20 minutes before it started. She apologized multiple times.

“Hey Tom. Can you do a q&a for 20 minutes or so?”

“No the movie is supposed to be on.”

“They are having technical difficulties and it’s going to take 20 minutes to fix it.”

Tom got annoyed because he knew this was pushing the entire timeline back and it was now be pushing it for him to be on time for his event tonight. “Sure.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know when we are good to go.”

After 30 minutes. The movie was finally ready to go. Every one was enjoying it and all four of your brothers moved around the theater so the kids felt like they were watching the movie with them personally. When it was over everyone was ushered into a lobby where there was a meet and greet with photos. By the time the boys were done with everyone, it was 20 minutes until Toms next event.

“Great. I’m going to be late. Thanks for that y/n. Why didn’t you have them check everything yesterday?”

“Because I didn’t think of it.”

“So stupid. How could you not think of it? It’s literally the first thing on the list of things to check when prepping the theater. Do your job better. Thats what you are paid to do. I’ll see you later.” Tom rolled his eyes and stormed off. You just stared feeling humiliated since the theater staff and your family had witnessed that. You were holding in your emotional breakdown until you could do it in private.

“Sorry guys. Y’all can go ahead and head out. I’ll clean this up and bring home whatever is ours.” Sam, Harry, and Paddy saw this as a get of jail free card and booked it out of the theater. Your dad came by and kissed you on the head and said I have to finish up some work and headed out. Your mum looked at you sadly.

“I’ll help you baby.”

“No it’s okay mum. Go edit the photos so we can get them sent out.” You smiled at her.

“It’s okay. I can do them later tonight.”

“Mum seriously. Go home. I got this. I’ll be home later. You kissed her on the cheek as you walked back in the theater. You thankfully left the tote yesterday which made it easier to put everything in. You put the tote in your car and headed back in the theater to sweep and clean up the mess. By the time you got home, it was 9 pm. You had been up for 61 hours straight. You were exhausted. You just wanted to sleep. But Tom was home and he was livid.

“What the hell?” He asked.

“What?” You asked back.

“You know I got yelled at by my manger for 30 minutes about how I was irresponsible and immature for being almost a hour late to the event tonight?”

“Why did you get yelled at? You were doing stuff for charity. He should get over it.”

“He was mad because SOMEONE told him I would be done with our event in plenty of time to go to this other one. And when I told him there was technical difficulties because that same SOMEONE didn’t do their job, he got even more mad.”

“I get that I probably should of checked but things happen Tom. Okay? Things I can’t control. Things the theater can’t control. I did this entire event by myself. Sorry for not checking but other than the delay the people loved it and we raised money which is okay because our charity now can help so many more.”

“You didn’t do this by yourself. We all help. And our charity? Our? You mean mine? Sams? Harry’s? Paddys? It’s our faces that make that charity. And when something goes wrong we are the ones that look bad. Not the person behind the scenes that only does some of the work.”

You looked at him like he was a stranger. What he said broke your heart. That’s what he really thought? You just shook your head lightly and walked to your room. You shut the door and locked it.

“Really Tom?” Your mum asked as her and your dad walked in during the argument.

“Yeah mum. We do all the work and she’s trying to take the credit. We’ve all noticed and it’s getting out of hand. You do more than she does.”

“Tom I’m extremely disappointed in you right now.” Your dad said.

“Tom she does all of the work. The planning, the scheduling, the packaging, social media, distributing the money, and figuring out all the ways we can make money to help those smaller charities.” Your mum added.

“She does?”

“Yes Tom. On top of helping me and your father with our businesses. We’ve seen you more than her this past month because she’s been so busy.” Your mum said.

“Wow.”

“Did you know she was up until 4 am on Christmas night so she could finish the goody bags before we had to prep the theater. That she had those pictures printed so you could sign them for the guest. That she made an itinerary so detailed that nothing could go wrong. Except she didn’t account for technical difficulties. She set up the theater and cleaned the theater all by herself. None of us helped her. We just showed up for the event.” Your mum said.

“Tom have you not noticed how exhausted she looks? It looks like she hasn’t slept in days. She’s trying her best to handle everything so we can have everything run smoothly for us. She even mentioned your event and how she needed to get you out of there so you wouldn’t be late. We’ve all been horrible to her by letting her do this by herself.” Your dad said.

“I... I didn’t know. I’m going to go talk to her.”

Tom got up and knocked on your door. He couldn’t hear anything so he tried opening it. He noticed it was locked and went to his old room and found the key you gave him years ago. When he unlocked it he noticed the mess around your room of boxes, plastic, mail bags for packages, and stacks of papers. He saw you on your bed and saw you were asleep. He went over and tucked you in. He went to your desk and saw the white board with everything marked off under the to do list. He then looked on your desk and saw how your mum and dads plans were finalized. He knew you mentioned everything when you asked him for help Christmas night and now you were done with it. Even all the orders were done and he saw the receipt from the post office proving the orders were shipped. He felt horrible knowing the only way that you got everything done was by staying up all night.

He turned and walked back to you and finally noticed the bags under your eyes. As well as tear stains that he knows he’s the cause for. It broke his heart knowing he was the cause. It also broke knowing that you asked for help so you wouldn’t fall in the deep end, but by saying he couldn’t help, he pushed you in and watched you drown without even realizing.

He gave you a kiss on the head and got up and quietly walked out.

“What time did y/n wake up on Christmas Day?”

“From what we know, maybe around 8 or 9.” Your dad said. Tom sat there quietly while doing the math in his head.

“61 hours.” He suddenly said.

“What?” Your mum said.

“61 hours. That’s how long she went without sleep. She asked me for help and told me why and I said no. She’s finished the list. She’s organized both of your stuff. She’s packed and shipped out all of the orders. She did everything for the event. She hasn’t slept. She’s asleep now but it was 61 hours. How could I let my sister do that? How did I not see it?” Tom asked his parents. They looked at him in shock.

“My poor baby” your mum said.

“We will talk to her tomorrow when she wakes up.” Your dad said.

“I want to be here when she wakes up so I can apologize. I’m going to go see her again.”

He got up and walked to your room. He quietly started cleaning up the mess left from packaging orders. He then laid on the other side of your bed thinking about how he messed up so bad. Shortly after he fell asleep too.

-——————

Around 7 am you woke up still exhausted but you needed a glass of water. When you went to throw the blanket off of you, you saw Tom asleep in your bed still in his clothes from the night before.

You were confused as to why he was in your bed, but you chose to ignore him. You stood up and went to the kitchen. Your mum was already cooking breakfast.

“Morning baby. How’d you sleep?” Your mum asked.

“Alright. I’m probably going to catch a few more hours. Just needed water.” You said. “By the way, do you know why Tom is in my bed?”

“He felt bad about how he has treated you lately.” She said. “He figured out you went 60 something hours without sleep.”

You looked at her shocked and sat down. She came over and gave you a hug.

“Why did you do that to yourself? Why didn’t you ask for help?” Your dad said as he joined both of you in the kitchen.

“You were working on new stuff. Mum had shoots and a house to run. I asked Tom and thought maybe him and the boys could help but they had plans. It needed to be done before the new year and definitely needed to be done before the event.”

“We appreciate you so much baby girl. I hope you know that. You do a lot for this family and this family isn’t great at giving back. We do love you.” Your mum said as she gave you a kiss on the head. “Now please go get some sleep. Sleep all day if you’d like and I can bring you food later.”

You smiled at her and walked back to your room. Tom still hadn’t moved. You sat your water on your bedside table and crawled back under the covers. You turned your back towards Tom. You were still really saddened by his words last night, that you didn’t want to face him yet.

“Y/n/n are you awake?” You heard Tom whisper.

“Go back to sleep or get out.” You said back not opening your eyes.

“I’m sorry y/n. What I said last night was wrong. I didn’t realize you do everything for our trust. I thought mum and dad did it all. I know you’ve been killing yourself to try and catch up then get ahead, but you can’t do that to yourself. You need proper rest. I’m going to make sure you never do the 61 hours straight again. I’d rather myself do it before I let you do it again.”

“Tom it’s okay. But seriously. Leave or go back to sleep.”

“No it’s not okay. I’ve royally fucked up. I’ve let us get so far apart we are almost strangers to one another. I have a charity that doesn’t even have your name on it and you do all the work. You make sure my fans are happy as well as making sure we help other small charities. You’re absolutely amazing and I’ve treated you like shit for the last few years. I don’t even give you the time of day. I promise you this, I will do better. We will be like we used to. Even if I have to kidnap you and take you with me different places. I love you and I don’t want to be the one hurting you anymore.”

You rolled over and looked at him with tears in your eyes. Your brother finally recognized you for you. He finally realized what he’s done.

“Thank you Tom. I love you too.”

He smiled at you and leaned over to give you a hug and kiss on the forehead.

“It really means a lot that you said that. But can I please go back to sleep. I’m still exhausted.” You said.

Tom pulled you to him so your head was on his chest and shoulder. And he cuddled you so you felt protected from all the horrible things that can go wrong for you.

“Get some sleep and when you wake up, me and you will hang out. Just the two of us.” Tom said. You smiled as you drifted back to sleep.

[ijustwant2write]

Watch Your Words-Arthur Shelby x Shelby!Daughter!Reader

(GIF credit to @paulinska44stark)

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight @haphazardhufflepuff @mzcrazy2

Masterlist

Prompt List

Requested by anonymous: 'can you do a arthur shelby one where the reader is his daughter (16-17) and they get into argument and he says something he doesn't mean and she runs off and everyone starts to get worried when they cant find her but she with bonnie or Isaiah and Arthur finds her and they talk and he apologizes and they make up'

Characters: Arthur Shelby x Shelby!Daughter!Reader, Isaiah Jesus x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Alcohol abuse/drunkenness, neglect, swearing, crying, fluff

                                       *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I moaned as I stirred that morning, hating how little sleep I had got. My father had been out once again, stumbling in at who knows what time, not keeping quiet and sounding like he was having a fight with himself downstairs. It wasn't unusual for him to drink this much, he used to do it a lot more, and I thought it had stopped for a while; the company was doing well, there hadn't been as much trouble recently, my father had been more present in my life. However, I watched it all crumble before me, returning to nights by myself, cooking for one, not having anyone to talk to.

Before heading downstairs, I peeked into my dad's room, wondering if he had made it upstairs. I was wrong, hoping that he was sprawled out on the sofa. Again, I made the mistake of thinking he wasn't that drunk, finding him lying down on the kitchen floor, two of the chairs from the dining table knocked over, as well as smashed glass surrounding it.

Sighing, I brushed some pieces of glass away from his head, hoping he would want to head to bed as soon as he woke up. Dad was on his back, head tilted to the right as he lightly snored. His coat had been in the hallway, along with his hat, but he had failed to take his jacket off, it was half way down his arms.

"Dad," I quietly said, shaking him lightly,"dad!"

He jolted awake, taking in a sharp breath, trying to figure out where he was. When he saw me, he groaned, wiping a hand over his face. Helping him sit up, I prayed that he wouldn't be sick (I had dealt with that situation too many times), not saying anything yet as I didn't know what mood he was in.

"Fucking hell." his voice was raspy, still rough from the night before."Did I wake you up?"

"Last night you did. But it doesn't matter."

"Sorry love."

"It's alright." I lied, managing to sit him down in a chair."Do you think you can stomach something?"

"Nah."

I didn't press further, grabbing a broom and sweeping up the glass into a pile. He said nothing more. As I got rid of the glass, making sure there were no more pieces we could step on, I noticed his fist on the table clenching up.

"Dad? You OK?"

"Just thinking about last night." he mumbled.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

"Don't worry. It's not for your ears. Go on, go get dressed."

I did as he said, knowing he was particularly sensitive at this moment. It was quiet downstairs when I was getting ready, a blessing and a curse. He could be sat down gathering his senses, trying to sober up, or he could be working himself into a frenzy. It had happened before, and I was scared it could happen again. I loved my father, he had raised me well, considering that we were Shelby's. Though I supposed I had Aunt Polly and Aunt Ada to thank for that, not him. He had always tried to be around when I was younger, wanting his child to know her dad. But as I got older, when I could become more independent, that's when he realised he could have a bit more freedom, especially since the woman (my mother) he fucked wanted nothing to do with him, just to look after the child they created.

I returned to him once I was ready for the day, slowly stepping into the kitchen. My heart sunk at the sight of whiskey in his hands once again. How could someone drink so much and continue? I had been drunk before, and I didn't enjoy the headache the next day.

"Dad, did something happen last night?" I hesitantly asked, slowly walking towards him.

He scoffed."Some people don't understand what respect means. I'm Arthur fucking Shelby, I don't think twice about killing a man."

I hated when he spoke of killing. It was something I always pushed to the back of my mind.

"You would not believe what this woman said to me last night. She...she said...how the fuck did I end up with a daughter like you? How could my daughter, who apparently has the heart in an angel, look me in the face everyday and smile? Hm? Well go on then, answer her question!"

"Dad, she was just trying to win you up."

He took a swig of his drink, clumsily leaning back in his seat."No, no, she meant that! And I want to know too. Since you're so perfect, what are you doing in the Shelby family?"

I backed away, now pressed up against the wall opposite him."You're not making sense. Look, I'll cook us something to eat, it'll help with your headache."

"The only headache round here is you."

"What?"

"Don't know why your whore mother left you on my doorstep. I'm a killer, how would I know how to raise a child?"

"Just shut up dad, you're wasting your energy over this."

He shot up from his chair, causing it to hit the cabinets behind him."Don't you tell me what to do!" 

I flinched back, hitting my back and head on the wall. He had never hurt me, but there was a different rage in his eyes, and I was scared that this was the look his victims saw before he killed them. 

“When I fucked her, I was drunk, done a few lines, eh? I didn’t even know her name, but it didn’t matter. She might have been a prostitute, she might have been a woman at the club. But it didn’t matter.”

“Dad,” I sobbed, wondering if I should just run,“please stop talking like this.”

“I’ve slept with hundreds of women, never had a baby turn up though. But of course, just when things were going good for me, I got stuck with you. I had to spend money on you, feed you, dress you, shit, I had to make sure I knew what the fuck I was doing and be there for you. My fucking life went out of the window.”

I didn’t need to hear any more of this. Taking my chances, I darted towards the hallway, throwing open the door and running into the street. People on their way to work (or coming back from a long night out) watched as I sprinted past them, tears streaming down my face, despite the wind repeatedly drying them. I had heard my dad call for me, and I was sure he had fallen down trying to come after me. Stumbling into Charlie’s yard as I slowed down, I sighed with relief when I saw that no one was there. It seemed stupid to come here, when it was my family that owned it (and they were the people I wanted to be away from), but it was also somewhere I felt safe. Sniffling, I used one of my dress sleeves to wipe away the tears, now idly walking around the place. It was so dirty here, gloomy and dark; it reflected the mood at the moment.

Sitting down on a chair, that was terribly out of place, outside the stables, I leaned back, hating how the cold air hurt my lungs from running. My throat was recovering from being dry, but now there was a metallic taste in my saliva. It wasn’t lady-like to sit like this, but who gave a fuck? Coughing before spitting on the floor, I sunk deeper into the chair, legs spreading out to make it comfier.

“What’s little Miss Shelby doing all the way out here by herself?” I heard Isaiah call. However, the cocky smirk he held disappeared when he saw my teary face.“Shit, what’s happened?”

“My dad.” I sobbed, sitting up properly when he knelt in front of me.“He’s just drunk and...he said some things.”

“What things?”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble, Is.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Isaiah held on of my hands that was resting on my lap.“You’ve never been this upset before, he’s clearly said something that’s hurt you.”

“I’m tired of his habits Isaiah, he’s gone back to his old ways. I hate it! I don’t understand how he can go out almost every night and drink to that extent. He’s broken things in the house, he’s been sick, he’s fallen down the stairs, and yet it continues! And today, he said hurtful words to me. Told me how I was just the child of a whore, I was unwanted, he was basically saying he regrets taking me in when he could have easily given me to an orphanage!”

“Hey, calm down.” Isaiah kept his voice quiet.“He’s drunk, you know that. And that means he doesn’t mean those things.”

“They say that drunk words are your true thoughts.” I snapped.

“(Y/N), please listen to me.”

Reluctantly, I looked down at him, trying not to smile at the image of our hands interlocked.

“Your dad loves you far too much for his own good. He’s only ever loved his family, as in his brothers, sister and aunt, and that was just the normal. You were different. Yes, you weren’t planned, meaning he hadn’t prepared himself to welcome yet another person in his life.And he had to throw himself into parenthood, had to realise he was looking after a child. It was like going cold turkey for him. Now I’m not excusing his words or actions from earlier, he shouldn’t have ever said such things to you. But he worries, he worries because he loves you so much that he doesn’t even understand it himself.”

“I know that deep down...it just hurt. And I’m scared that he’s going to keep doing this to himself.”

He sighed, standing up, tugging on my hand.“Let’s go. We don’t need to be in this sad place.”

I slightly smiled, still holding his hand as I stood. However, he let go, taking off his coat and putting it on me. Luckily I was just tall enough for it to not drag on the floor, otherwise I would have dragged it through mud. He made his usual cheeky remark about it ‘looking better on me’, causing me to roll my eyes but laugh all the same. He distracted me as we walked, trying to steer the topic away from family matters.

"Isaiah, do you want kids?" I randomly asked.

He chuckled."Was that an offer?"

I shoved him away from me, causing us to laugh."You know what I meant you prick."

"Yeah, I do. It's still early days for me, especially since I'm doing a lot more for the boss and all that. But once I find my girl, I'll want to have my own family."

"That's very sweet of you Is. I can see you being a father, and a good one at that. Once you grow up a bit that is."

"You're wanting a mature man then, eh (Y/N)?"

"Yeah, do you know of anybody?"

He pretended to think."Nah."

The dreadful feeling that had been stuck in the pit of my stomach was almost gone, until I saw my dad running around the streets, obviously looking for me. Poor people in the street were bombarded by questions, he was terrifying to them. When he saw Isaiah and me, he was relieved, taking long strides towards us. He didn't look angry anymore, but I was still wary, hoping Isaiah would stay beside me.

"(Y/N), (Y/N) love, I've been looking everywhere for you!" he exasperated, trying to catch his breath.

"She was down by Charlie's yard." Isaiah explained.

"Why didn't you find me straight away?"

I butted in before he got angry with Isaiah."I was upset, Isaiah cheered me up. I wouldnt have come back anyway."

"I'm sorry (Y/N). I really didn't mean anything that I said this morning. It was the alcohol, I swear!"

"You'll use this excuse for the next time too."

"There won't be a next time, I promise!"

"Dad, do you know how much you upset me today? You basically told me you didn't want me, you called my mother a whore. There were so many random things that came out of nowhere, and it was purely to hurt me because you were hurting."

"I know. A woman in the bat last night reminded me of how your mother was, or at least I think she did. She made the same comments, saying that I didn't deserve to have such a lovely, good hearted girl as a daughter."

"No, sometimes you don't. But you're lucky that I love up to that title, because I love you too much to let this get in the way of our relationship."

"I'm going to stop, I won't do that again!"

"You're not going to drink again?"

He hesitated."I...I mean-"

"Dad, I was joking. I'm not expecting you to quit drinking altogether, just don't drink as much. And not just because you say mean things, because you've hurt yourself in the past. And there's so many people who are after you."

"Alright love, I'll hold back. For you. Am I forgiven?"

"For now." I hugged him, still upset, but knowing that we had to move past this in order for him to get better."I'm going to stay with Isaiah today though. I feel like we should spend some time apart, for the rest of the day at least."

"Why with Isaiah?"

"Because he's my friend, and he's helped me take my mind off things. I'll see you later dad." I kissed his cheek before grabbing Isaiah's hand again, dragging him away.

"You know you're dad is going to kill me right?" Isaiah said once we were out of earshot.

"He won't. Not if he wants me coming back for dinner tonight."

"I'm going to lose you that soon?"

"You would be so lucky Isaiah."

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

A Place To Call Home: Oh Baby

Summary: The reader and TJ decide to have their first baby together and the experience is anything but simple...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x foster daughter!reader

Word Count: 3,600ish

Warnings: language, pregnancy, pregnancy/delivery scare

A/N: Enjoy!

______

“Hey,” you said, rubbing TJ’s bare back in bed after he’d gotten Allie down for bed. He groaned happily as you gave him a massage, sinking further into the mattress. “You’re rocking this dad thing you know.”

“Back at ya mom,” he laughed. “You really think so? Cause I’m scared shitless half the time.”

“Same. But she’s happy and healthy and safe. We must be doing something right,” you said. He patted your leg and you slid off of him, TJ rolling to his side and wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you down. “What are you thinking, handsome?”

“I noticed you haven’t taken any birth control this week,” he said. 

“We said we’d talk tonight about it. I wanted to be prepared,” you said. He brushed his hand over your cheek and your whole body felt warm at the touch. “This is way off base of our plan for kids. We can totally wait if you want to.”

“We could. But we said way back when we talked about this that when we had kids, we wanted to keep them not too many years apart. Allie will be more than two by the time we have one. I know our plans got changed completely when she came into the picture.”

“Well, the original plan was two of our own and then when they were in their teens, we’d look at adoption for number three. What do you think?” you asked.

“I think it doesn’t matter what our plan is today. It’ll probably change in some way. It already did,” he said.

“Do you want to make a baby?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said softly, sliding his hand down to your stomach. “I can’t imagine how adorable of a child you would make. Let’s start trying. Allie deserves a brother or sister.”

“Are you sure? We could wait until your student loan is paid off,” you said.

“Did I not tell you?” he asked. You shook your head and he smirked. “Work pays off my loan for me as long as I stay there.”

“Where’s the money in the budget for your loan going then?” you asked.

“It’s still student loan but it’s for Allie or kids to use. We got plenty and you got your raise and-”

“Raise? I didn’t get a raise.”

“Jensen said just the other night…oh I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” he said.

“I’m getting a raise?” you asked. 

“Yeah. Like a big one. For how you’ve been stepping up lately,” he said. “Don’t let it out that I said something.”

“I won’t. So we can afford another kid, we have the time, the energy, Allie’s a good age...sounds like we got our ducks in a row,” you said. 

“Wanna make a baby?” he smirked. “And then love it forever and ever?”

“Fuck yes I do,” you said. “Now get naked and let’s have some fun.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Six Weeks Later

“Want me to write down anything else for the grocery store?” asked TJ as you sipped on some coffee while Allie ate part of a waffle at the breakfast table. “I haven’t bought pads or tampons in a while. You’re probably running low.”

“Yeah, you can…” you said, staring at him. “I haven’t had my period TJ. I’m two weeks late.”

“I’ll get a pregnancy test,” he said, a cautious smile on his face.

“Yeah. I’ll call the doctor, see if I can get an appointment in soon,” you said.

“I’ll be back as quick as I can,” he said. 

“Momma, waffle,” asked Allie from her high seat, opening her hand up, her plate wiped clean.

“Sure thing, honey,” you said, TJ flashing you a quick smile before he was gone.

“Hey babe,” you said half an hour later into the phone. “You still at the store?”

“Heading for checkout now. Want me to pick up-”

“I just got my period,” you said. “Just now.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said. “We can do the test to make sure, like triple make sure and I still have an appointment for the afternoon.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding a little off.

“We only tried that one night,” you said. “And we weren’t really even trying. We were having more fun with not using a condom for the first time than actively trying really.”

“True. We got a little carried away,” he said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck and his cheeks sporting a light blush if you had to guess. “Do you want to like, really try?”

You turned your head and saw Allie sticking some pads to herself where she sat on the bathroom floor and you smiled.

“For some crazy reason, yes, yes I do. Also, I need more pads. Allie’s playing with them,” you said.

“Alright. I’ll pick up something special for dinner,” he said. “Love you.”

“Love you too, babe.”

Three Months Later

“Another beer?” asked your dad as he stood up from your back patio. 

“I can get it,” you said, TJ handing you his empty, Allie passed out on his chest from where the three of you sat around the fire. “I want a snack anyways.”

You ruffled his head and wandered inside, your dad following you in to use the bathroom. You took out a beer and set it on the counter before you opened the freezer and pulled out a pint of ice cream.

“Someone’s got a sweet tooth lately,” he said. He took out a beer for himself and cracked it open, smiling at you. “Been awhile since I’ve seen you have a drink. Not that you did a lot but the empty calories line doesn’t seem so convincing at the moment considering the tub of cookie dough in your hand.”

“You think I’m pregnant?” you laughed. He shrugged and you shook your head. “No way. Just been trying to eat healthier. TJ ate most of this anyways.”

“You’re really not?” he asked.

“No. When’s mom and everybody come home again? Tomorrow? TJ and I wanted to have everybody over for dinner,” you said.

“Sounds good,” he said. You stuck your head around him, looking at TJ outside. “What’s up?”

“Okay I kinda want your opinion on something. I got a present for TJ’s birthday but I’m not sure if he’ll like it,” you said.

“What is it?” he asked. You left and ducked into your office, smiling to yourself but wiping it off your face by the time you returned. You held out a box to him, your dad opening it up. He looked confused as he held up a pair of blue sneakers. 

Very small blue sneakers.

It took him a second but soon he was staring at you, a funny look on his face you remembered seeing on your wedding day.

“Liar,” he grinned.

“I know,” you said, getting a big hug from him. 

“You’re gonna have a little boy,” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“That’s what the sonogram said. You’re the first person we’ve told. We wanted to wait a few months to make sure everything was okay before we said something.”

“How far along are you?” he asked as he peeled away, staring at your stomach.

“About three months. We found out the sex earlier this week,” you said. “You can touch, it’s okay.”

“I didn’t realize you guys were trying,” he said. He put a careful hand on your stomach, smiling to himself. “You made a baby.”

“We wanted Allie’s sibling to be close in age. We only like actually tried once. We were kind of surprised it happened so fast,” you said.

“Does it feel any different than Allie? It’s not like you’re a parent for the first time again but I imagine it’s got to be a little different,” he said, pulling his hand away.

“Obviously this time I’m actually going to be the one having him but I don’t know, it doesn’t feel that different.”

“Good,” he said, smiling still. “These two are gonna grow up and not even think about who was adopted and who wasn’t.”

“TJ thinks he’s gonna have his black hair.”

“He could. Boys are a spitting image of their fathers sometimes,” he said. “A little boy. He’s gonna grow up just fine with you and TJ.”

“Do you have any advice for boys?” you asked.

“Love him the same as you love Allie. Teach him boys can love and cry and feel their feelings and to help others and he’ll turn out to be just as good a man as TJ.”

“You’re not half bad either,” you said with a smirk.

“I could have been better, especially when I was younger.”

“Dad, you were shy. Mom’s told me stories. You’ve always been good. I know you feel stuff, you just like to process it inside and on your own sometimes, like me. Look at Zepp. What other boy do you know that talks to his dad about stuff the way you guys do?”

“Oh I could name a few,” he said.

“You’re doing good is all I’m saying cause you’re good. We just hope he’s kind and good too,” you said.

“Love ‘em and the rest of it pretty much works out on its own,” he said. “Oh. Changing diapers? Cover them at all times. Like every single time. You’re gonna get pissed on a lot more with a boy, especially in the face.”

“Oh god, dad,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Just being honest,” he chuckled. “Not much difference though.”

“As long as he’s happy, I’m good,” you said. “Are you...surprised? Happy? None of the above?”

“You are a kickass mom. I can’t quite describe it but yeah, let’s just say I’m happy,” he said. “I’m so happy for you both and to have another munchkin around. I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

“Thanks,” you said. “Second one should be easier, right?”

“Should. It’s your first time pregnant though. I’m sure we’re gonna run into some fun things for sure.”

Five Months Later

“Hey dad,” you said, giving him a wave in the parking lot. He smiled and you walked over before you headed off into the park with him. 

“How’s work going?” he asked. “All ready to go out next week?”

“You know most people don’t take the month off before their due date,” you said.

“Most people don’t work for mom and dad,” he chuckled. “You’re covered. I see you back at that brewery for anything more than a beer run and we’re gonna have problems.”

“I know, grumpy. I’m good. Well, I was until I was driving over here to walk and my stomach started killing me,” you said. He stopped and you walked ahead of him. “What? You forget your phone or something? We can-”

“Fucking shit,” he said. He grabbed you and you made a face as he walked you quickly back over to his car. 

“Dad, what-”

“There’s blood dripping down your leg,” he said, not even bothering with his seat belt before he was backing out and speeding away. You glanced down, a small thin streak drying on your skin. You reached under your shorts and felt more wetness, a pit forming in your stomach. “Y/N, are you listening to me?”

“What?” you said as he ran through a red light.

“I said you need to call TJ right now and tell him to meet us at County West. You’re having the baby right now.”

“S’not supposed to be bleeding,” you said quietly. 

“I know. On the bright side, it could just be a little tear and that’s what it is and you and the baby are perfectly fine.”

“When has my life ever been on the fucking bright side,” you said. “Something’s wrong isn’t it.”

Your dad hit a few buttons on the wheel before the sound of ringing filled the air.

“Sup, Jensen?” said TJ.

“County West. The baby is coming. Move your ass now,” said your dad before he hung up.

“Oh, I’m completely not worried now,” you said. You shut your eyes and by the time you opened them, you were parked and the drivers door was open. Your dad ran over to the entrance and said something, somebody coming out with a stretcher. You rolled your eyes but let a few nurses and a doctor you were guessing move you on top of it.

“How far along?” asked the doctor.

“I’m-” you said, throwing your head back when pain shot across your abdomen. You screamed, a bit surprised at yourself honestly and suddenly were inside, your dad talking a mile a minute to the people that were rushing you down the hall.

“Y/N, I’m Dr. Astle. Are you having contractions?” she asked.

“I don’t…” you said, shouting again when pain hit you. “Gah, it’s not supposed to hurt that bad, right?”

“No, it’s not,” she said. You kicked when you felt it happening again, your dad grabbing your hand and using his other to run over your head. 

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “The doctor’s are gonna fix you and the baby up like that.”

“We need to do an emergency C-section,” said Dr. Astle as you realized your shorts had been cut off.

“Dad don’t look that way,” you said.

“You and me right here,” he said with a smile. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be just fine. Just breathe.”

“TJ needs to be here,” you said. 

“Tall munchkin I don’t think they can wait,” he said.

“They’re gonna wait over my-” you said, a flop of sweaty black hair running past the room. “TJ!”

“Hey!” he said as he jogged back to the doorway. “Are-holy shit. That’s a lot of blood.”

“TJ, up here,” said your dad. 

“We need somebody from maternity, Dr. Astle,” said a nurse.

“Baby and mom do not have the time. You’re the husband?” asked the doctor, TJ nodding. “If mom passes out, you’re calling the shots.”

“Please don’t pass out,” said TJ.

“I’ll try…” you said, something tearing inside and you were out before you could even register the pain.

You woke up in a quiet room, your dad sitting in a chair and bouncing his leg like crazy. You tried to stretch and felt your abdomen was flatter, hand instantly shooting to it. You looked around but saw no sign of TJ or a baby and swallowed.

“Dad,” you said quietly. His head shot up and he was out of his chair like that. 

“Hey. How you feeling?” he asked.

“Is the baby…” you swallowed.

“He is a perfectly healthy boy. Big boy. Your due date was off by a couple weeks they think. You were over nine months. He got a little too big for ya. The placenta started to tear and he was kicking at it they think which is why you were in so much pain,” he said.

“Okay,” you said with a big smile. “As long as he’s good, I’m good.”

“He’s up in the nursery with TJ, just letting him get some rest while you got some. You had some pain but you’re okay. Perfectly capable of more kids. Maybe we use a different doctor next time is all,” he said.

“Can I go see him?” you asked, surprised to not feel a bandage across your stomach. “I thought they did a C-section?”

“Well, you passed out pushing him out in one go. Doc said you’d be sore for awhile,” he said. “Let me go see if I can find your boys.”

“Dad,” you said as he turned to go. “Did I do that?”

You nodded to his bruised hand and he shrugged.

“Let’s just say in labor you is kind of terrifying,” he said. 

“Dad,” you said and he sat on the edge of the bed. “Thank you. I was freaking out before.”

“Little secret, I was freaking out more,” he said with a chuckle. “You, you were just thinking about the baby. Me, me I was thinking about the baby and you. Understand?”

“Yeah. Go get me my son, old timer,” you said, shutting your eyes again.

“Yes mam,” he said, rubbing your arm. “You did real good today, kiddo.”

“I’m getting a letter later, aren’t I,” you said. He laughed and felt him ruffle your hair.

“I’ll save it for when you guys head home. Nothing’s gonna top this,” he said. You heard the door open and opened your eyes, TJ walking inside with a bundle of blankets in his arms.

“You’re kind of a badass, you know that right?” he said.

“It’s why you married me, isn’t it?” you teased. “I want to meet him.”

“I told you I’d bring you back around to see mommy,” he said. Your dad slipped out as TJ sat on the edge of the bed and handed you over your son. You giggled when you saw the black head of hair under his blue cap. “Told you he’d have my hair.”

“It’s a good thing your daddy is pretty,” you said, booping his little nose. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“I was at work. I took the stairs and then sprinted over. The hospital’s only a few blocks away,” he said.

“Why are you in scrubs?” you laughed.

“May or may not have ripped my pants in the said sprinting. Your mom is gonna bring me some clothes when she comes up. Somebody had to go and be all dramatic with his entrance,” he said.

“Dad said the doctor got my due date wrong,” you said.

“Based on my math, you actually did get pregnant that first night we fooled around. Your period was super light when you had it and the doctor did say some people can have them during pregnancy, especially at the beginning if…”

“Dude. I know how it works,” you said. “He’s cute.”

“I know. There’s a couple of really ugly babies down the hall. We got lucky,” he said. You laughed and the baby looked up at you, quickly shutting his eyes. “Someone’s smitten.”

“He’s not the only one,” you said. “You ever decide on a boy’s name?”

“What do you think about Colin? I know it wasn’t on the list but-”

“It’s perfect,” you said, giving the baby a kiss. “Just like you, aren’t you Colin.”

One Week Later

“Dad,” you said when you caught him peeking over the back of the couch again. “He didn’t wake up in the span of the last three seconds you weren’t looking at him.”

“Your father’s in love,” laughed your mom as she set a bag of takeout down in front of you. “I got tacos, burritos, quesadillas, nachos and brisket per your request.”

“Mmm,” you said, TJ reaching his hand into the bag. You stared up at him and he slowly backed away. “That’s what I thought.”

“TJ, yours is in with the other containers,” she said, setting a few containers down on the counter. Your siblings all grabbed one and took off to the movie room, JJ taking Allie up with them and your mom and TJ wandering into the kitchen and talking quietly. Your dad was still looking over the back of the couch and smiling down into the crib. 

“He awake?” you asked.

“No. Just adorable,” he said. 

“Well get dinner grandpa,” you said, reaching over to the end table for your drink and pausing. You shut your eyes and felt it pass, your dad suddenly right there and helping you to your feet. “Thanks.”

“Still sore?”

“Oh yeah,” you said. You sat up at the counter, grabbing a taco first and taking a big bite. “I’ve been dying for one of these for months.”

“Hopefully the spice doesn’t bother you too much,” he said, stealing a nacho from your bag. He looked over at the crib, Colin making a half-giggle sound. “Kiddo. Do me a favor.”

“What?” you asked.

“Enjoy it. They grow up faster than you think,” he said.

“I know,” you said. He nodded and you saw him look sad for a split second. “Dad?”

“Hm?”

“Just cause I made a baby doesn’t mean I’m not your kid anymore,” you said. “Based on how you are, I’ll never grow up so win-win for you.”

“Loser,” he said, ruffling your hair with a smile before he took your burrito. “Speaking of which, I was gonna prank the trio once they start watching scary movies later. You in?”

“Duh,” you said.

“That’s my girl.”

___________

A/N: Read the Jensen’s Day timestamp here!

[josiecarioca]

“Family...the real one.”

Summary: Emmet “Fin” Finnerty has found the love of his life in Doug Cleary. The next logical step is introducing him to his family...The real one.

Because “family” are those who take you in, when the ones who should love and protect you, fail.

Disclaimer: Fin and Doug are secondary characters of “Post War”, so while thechnically this story happens in the “Harry Potter” universe, it is not a fanfic as much as it is an original story, hence why it’s a tumblr publication alone. Evelyn is in this, but there will be no Snape, no magic and nothing of what my readers are used to see in my stories. I hope you still like it.

Warning: contains domestic violence, homophobia, homophobic slurs and emotions

Tagging, as usual:   @arabellafiggypudding @the-witches-son  @hummingbird-flying-in-the-rain @artisticreptilequeen @viper-official @be-zoar @violet-knox @mafagafobebum @marvelschriss @codename-thedoctor @zealouspickleeggdragon @green-oasis @drawnfromthedead @snapescapades @madshelily @serosvit  @snapecentric @hbprincealice @hayalee8 @lilythemadqueen @paracosim @oliverlandomens​ @sleepysnapesnake

“Family...the real one”

Dublin, Ireland

June 1998

“Full disclosure?” Fin was rambling. He knew he was. He usually did when he was nervous. Doug surely knew that by now. He even claimed he found it “adorable”. Only Doug could say something like that.

Three months. Three months and he was ready to make this official. He knew Doug felt the same. Unlike Fin, he had no problem showing his feeling, shouting them from the rooftops even. That didn't come so easy for Fin. It never did. But now, now he could do just that. Shout it from the rooftops. Make it official. And making it official started here. Introducing him to Lyn. It was a big step.

“Go ahead” Doug smiled, gazing at him with bright blue eyes full of endless patience.

Three months. Three months and Fin was starting to feel like this was it. He had found what he looked for in that handsome, sweet 6'ft tall dork of a man.

“You´re the first boyfriend I introduce to Evelyn since...God, I don't know...1995?”

“And why is that?” Doug asked, somewhat amused. After all, how much of a big deal could this possibly be? Sure, he was about to introduce his new boyfriend to his best friend, obviouly it was important, but how could he begin to explain it wasn´t just that simple?

“You know how it was...back then, I mean. I wasn't really being safe, and Lyn was just so worried about me and I never really thought she would approve of … Nevermind, now it's different. I want you to meet her. It's important.”

Fin looked around. He had picked a good place. The restaurant was nice enough that it felt like an occasion, but casual enough that it didn't seem like he was making a big fuss of it. But he was. It was a big deal. Fin wasn't the 'dating' type. But Doug was not like anybody he met before. Doug has this sort of tranquil aura about him, this kindness in his words and actions, such love in his eyes. Doug made him feel like he could just rest, breathe easy. This time he knew it was different. It just felt different. It felt like it could last.

Doug reached over the table to hold his hand, reassuringly.

“Her opinion means a lot to you, no?”

“Well, yes...this is my family we´re talking about. The real one, you know?”

Doug had been lucky. His parents loved him unconditionally, as parents should. He wasn´t kicked out of the house when he came out, he wasn´t told his entire being, his entire identity was an abomination before God. He wasn't made believe that no matter how good he was, how much of a good Christian he was, he would still go to hell for something he couldn't change. No, his parents loved him, protected him. Fin had also been lucky, but in a different, more complicated way. The family that loved and protected him wasn´t the one he was born into. It was Evelyn's.

“So, you told me you've known each other since you were kids...but, you never really said much more than that...”

That's right, Fin thought. He'd never told him. Not everything. He had to.

“I was friends with her brother growing up...Paul. We went to school together.”

There it was, that bittersweet ache in his heart. He hadn't felt it in a while

“I daresay I had a bit of a crush on him. Sometimes I wonder if he felt the same. But I guess I'll never know.”

“Why not?”

“Paul passed away. There was a fire in their house when he was just eleven. Lyn was there too. Their father pulled her out in time because she was closer to the door, but when he got to Paul it was too late. It happened too fast. ”

“I'm so sorry” Doug seemed stunned out of words. “I didn't know.”

“I didn't tell you. I should have. Specially today....we still have some time before she gets here, so....I think if we're serious about this, then you should meet Evelyn and her family...my family. That's why this is important to me. That you meet her and that you meet them.”

“Ok...So tell me. Tell me about your family, Fin.”

“I guess I should start from the beginning, then...Paul and I, we went to the same school. Catholic school...fun times.” he scoffed “Lyn was just a yar younger than us, and she went to an all girls school. Their father, Mr. Black was the headmaster, there. Paul took her everywhere with us when we weren't at school. Nothing could separate those two...Well, then...Paul passed away, and I was devastated, but her? I don't think there was a word in the entire dictionary that could have described how she was feeling, the poor girl. So I started going there to visit. They were all in such pain that I think Mr. Black let me spend as much time in their house as I wanted because he hoped it would help her. As it turns out it helped me. Being around her was a little like being with him. She looked so much like Paul it was eerie, nearly identical. I swear, if you could have seen them together, you'd swear they were twins. She was different though. Paul was like a hurricane in a boy's body. Lyn was much gentler. Anyway, the years went on and she just became...my sister, in a way. More than my own sister, to be honest. I'm pretty sure my parents expected us to date or something, but she knew, she was the first person I told. So she just came to my house, and smiled and nodded when my mother went on babbling about how we were perfect for each other and whatever nonsense. Then it happened...”

…

Doolin, Ireland

June, 1977

“What do you think?” Evelyn twirled, wrapped in meters of flowy, flowery fabric. The sun that came through the curtains filtered though the fabric, colouring the room.

“What am I looking at?” Emmet put down his magazine and watched her, trying to picture what she planned to do with the material she was showing him.

“My new dress, Fin!” she smiled, calling him by the nickname Paul had come up with years ago. Fin for 'Finnerty'. After Paul died, it was just the two of them. Fin and Lyn. “For my birthday. Since I'll be 15, mam said I can have it however I want.”

“Your birthday is in September!”

“It takes time to make a dress, and my grandma is going to have her hands full with Halloween costumes soon, so she's going to make my dress now. I want it long, with a bodice and medieval sleeves. Like Stevie Nicks in that magazine my dad brought from Dublin. He brought me the new Fleetwood Mac record too, here put it on.”

She set the fabric aside and fished the long play from the big canvas bag she had brought.

Whenever Lyn came over she always brought that huge bag, filled with clothes, magazines, records and books. She knew Fin couldn´t have any of that stuff at home. His mother didn't allow him to wear anything more colorful than a blue dress shirt for sunday mass, and his father was the one who decided which records, books or magazines were allowed in the house. Which meant no fashion or entertainment mags, no rock or pop music, and no books that seemed “suspicious”, which was pretty much anything that wasn't a school textbook. If not for Evelyn's father Emmet wouldn't even have read Oscar Wilde.

She handed him the record and he put it on, in the old record player Evelyn had snuck in for his last birthday. Her mother had got a new one, so she let Fin have the old 1967 Magnavox. His parents had no idea he had that thing in the bedroom, so he had to keep the volume low enough that his parents wouldn't hear it downstairs, or that they'd just think he had the radio on.

“We should ask my dad to take us next time he goes to Dublin. He promised me new shoes for my birthday. Red leather ones. With heels, I'm old enough for heels now. They only have those in Dublin.” Evelyn suggested, as both of them lay on the floor, staring at the reflection of the sun on the ceilling.

“You know my parents won't let me go.”

“They will if my dad is taking us. Or even better, if mam comes too. Your mother goes to church with her, of course she's going to let you go if she's with us. She's better to shop with anyway.”

“Maybe.” he trailed, knowing it wouldn't happen.

“We can buy some things for Halloween costumes. You should ask my grandma to make you one as well.Ooh, you know what? We can go as John Steed and Emma Peel! All you'll need is a suit, an umbrella and a hat, and grandma Liz can make me a jumpsuit. That purple one, with the chains! Or you want do do something spooky?”

“We´re not kids, anymore, Lyn.” he laughed

“And?”

“You really want to dress up for Halloween? We´re too old for that.”

“My grandparents still dress up for Halloween.” she scoffed

“It's different.”

“How?”

“They're...old-old. When you get to be their age you can do whatever you want.”

“They're not that old. I mean, if you...”

Evelyn's sentence was cut short by loud banging on the door. Emmet scrambled to his feet to turn off the music and toss a blanket over the record player. His father never banged on his door more than twice before yanking it open without waiting for an answer.

“You, downstairs now.” he barked at Emmet, before turning to Evelyn “And you can go back home, young lady. I need to talk to my son”

Emmet felt his stomach drop. His father never bothered to 'talk' to him, unless he was in trouble.

Evelyn picked up her things in a hurry and shoved it all back inside her bag, glancing over her shoulder at him all the while. She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn't know what.

“Now!” his father thundered from the stairs.

Emmet was frozen in place.

“Emmet is just helping me with my things, Mr. Finnerty. We'll be right there.” Evelyn answered, her voice slightly breaking.

“Come on...” she told him, holding his arm. “I'll go with you.”

“You have to go home.” he finally found his voice and his feet moved.

Emmet felt her hand grab his as they climbed down the stairs. His father was walking around the livingroom in circles, while his mother was talking to somebody. He heard her apologizing profusely. Then he realized why. She was talking to Connor Walsh's mother. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Mrs Walsh shot him a disgusted look on her way out.

“Evelyn, dear, you can go now.” Mrs. Finnerty said, and Emmet noticed she had a piece of  paper in her shaky hands. He knew that piece of paper. He looked at Evelyn, feeling like the world was a minute away from crashing down onto his head. She  looked back at him, knowingly. He had told her about Connor...about the letter. She knew. He felt her hand squeeze his again.

“I won't.” she whispered.

Emmet didn't want her to go. But he also didn't want her to stay. He didn't want her to see what he knew was about to happen.

Neither of them had the time to say anything else. His father snatched the letter from his mother's hand and grabbed Emmet by the collar, nearly shoving the paper into his face.

“Did you write this?” he roared

Emmet couldn't find his voice. He felt warm tears swelling in his eyes. He could hear his mother's voice, asking his father to let him go and telling Evelyn to just go already.

“Did you write this drivel, lad?! Answer!” his father insisted, pushing the letter into his chest.

“Answer, Emmet!” his mother was crying “This is just a prank isn't it?”

It was over.

There was no point in lying, he had the letter right there. His mother might try to lie to herself, to convince him it was nothing, but it was there, plain for anyone to see it. They read it. They knew. He was sure they had already heard the rumors, the talk, the othe boys calling him this and that.

They knew it. They couldn´t pretend they didn't

“I did.” he  barely whispered.

Next thing he knew he felt his body hit the wall in full force. It didn't even hurt. It didn´t feel real.

Evelyn screamed and, from the corner of his eye, he saw her run to him. His father stepped in front of her.

“You get out of my house now, before I drag you home to your father, so he can teach you to mind your own business, lass.”

“Fin, I'll be right back!” she cried, running out the front door.

“What the devil were you thinking writing this?!” his father pulled him to his feet by his shirt.

“Stephen, let the lad go. This was just a game, just stupid prank. Tell him, Emmet, tell him this isn't serious.”

This was it.

They knew it.

They read it.

There was no turning back now.

“I did it, mam. I did it, I wrote it. It wasn't a prank, I really wrote it.”

“You hear it, Edith?! Your son can't even have the decency to be ashamed!”

“Why?! Why would you do something like this?!”

“You know why!” Emmet nearly screamed, overwhelmed, dizzy “You read it, didn't you? You know why! Iwrote it because I love him!”

His parents stared at him as if they were looking at something alien, something they couldn´t comprehend.

“Mam...dad...” he felt the tears run down his cheeks, burning. But he refused to cry, to sob. He wouldn't do that. “I'm gay.”

Emmet had expected his father to hit him.

What he didn't expect was for his mother to slap him.

But she did. She slapped him hard across the face and left the room. Like it was nothing. Like he was nothing.

Anything after that didn't hurt. He didn't even feel it.

It was as if he had left his body. He could vaguely discern some broken words, something about “bringing filth into his house”, “shame” and “hell”...he could see the blows coming, and his body acted on instinct, raising his arms to protect his head, his face. But he didn't feel it. He didn't feel any of it.  He just cowered on the corner and closed his eyes, praying it would be over soon. Praying he would get tired eventually. Before he hurt him too bad. Before...

“Stephen, what the devil are you doing?!” Emmet knew that voice, that deep voice filling the air around them like thunder. “Have you lost your mind?!”

The blows stopped and he opened his eyes.

Mr. Black was standing right there, with both his arms around his father, draging him away.

“Let me go, Marius!” his father shouted, like a man possessed, while Mr. Black kept holding him back.

“Leave the boy alone, Stephen! You're trying to kill him?”

Emmet tried to get up but he was too dizzy.

“Fin, are you ok?” Evelyn was kneeling next to him, frantically pushing his hair away form his face.

“You called your dad?” he was terrified.

“Of course I did!” she helped him up.

He heard a loud thump and looked up. Mr. Black had flung his father onto the armchair, and was now standing, looming over him. He looked taller than Emmet remembered him, much taller. And his father, sitting on the chair looked so small by comparison.

“Enough!” Mr. Black boomed, and Emmet could had sworn the ground under his feet trembled.

“You don't get it, Marius! You don't know what this...what this boy did!”

“Whatever it was, it doesn't justify this!” Mr. Black took off his thick rimmed glasses and pinched the brigde of his nose, in evident frustration.

His father got back to his feet, standing right in front of Mr. Black and he still looked small.

“This none of your business!”

“You made it my business when you sent my daughter back home in tears, scared out of her wits that you were going to kill her friend!”

“Then take your daughter back home and let ME handle what happen in MY house!” He pushed past Mr. Black and barrelled towards Emmet.

Mr. Black tried to hold him back, but he took a swing at him. Emmet and Evelyn both screamed, but Mr. Black managed to dodge it. He reached for his father again, shoving him so he'd back off.

“Linnie, get Emmet out of here!” Mr. Black told his daughter, and Lyn tried to pull him by his arm, but Emmet couldn't move.

“Stephen, for the love of God, stop! You'll regret this!”Mr. Black pleaded, stepping between Emmet and his father.

“What do you know, Marius?! You don't have a fecking faggot living under your roof! Count your blessings, Marius, because I rather have a dead son than this!”

For a second, a long, agonising second, time seemed to stand still. Emmet could see it on his father's face that he had regretted those words the moment they left his mouth. Not because of what they meant to Emmet. No, he knew his father meant every bit of that. But because he knew, of all the things he could have said to Mr. Black, that was the wrong one.

Emmet had known Mr. Black his entire life. He never saw him raise his voice, he had never seen him angry. He was a gentle man. A man who took them birdwatching on weekends, who bought them magazines and records whenever he went to Ennis or Dublin, who told them about his favorite poets and painters. Emmet didn't think he was physically capable of being anything other than gentle and kind.

But in that moment, he changed.

Emmet never thougth he'd see Mr. Black punch somebody. But he did it. A single punch, right to the side of his father face, so strong, so sudden, he fell to the floor  like rotten fruit falls from a tree.

“Never” he growled in a voice that didn't sound like his voice at all “you hear me, NEVER talk about my son again! You heard me, Stephen!? NEVER! I promise you, you mention my boy ever again, and it will be the end of your sorry life upon this Earth, I promise you!”

“I didn't mean it like, that, you know I didn't...” Emmet watched with disgust as his father tried to get back on his feet, stumbling, humiliated.

“I know exactly what you meant! And you know what you meant, you dirty coward!”

He kept trying to make excuses, but Mr. Black would have none of it.

“You don't know, you have no idea, what it is to bury a child, and I hope to God you never find out.” his voice was calmer, but there was a frightening coolness to it “Are you out of your damned mind?! This is your son! Standing right there while you´re wishing him dead! What I wouldn't give to trade places with you! To have my boy here, alive, like him!”

Emmet was numb. He felt Evelyn rest her head against his shoulder and weep, softly. He wanted to hug her, to do something, anything. But all he could was stare. Stare at his father, trying and failing to stand up to her father, as Mr. Black towered over him, his face filled with righteous, godly, ice-cold anger. And he felt so embarrassed, so ashamed that this man, this petty, pathetic, bumbling excuse of a man was his father.

“Easy for you to say, Marius, but if Paul had been a...”

“I won't hear my son's name from your mouth again, Stephen. Paul is dead. And if I could have him back, I would have him however he was. Trust me, nothing can worse than a dead child. Nothing!”

“That's a pretty sentiment coming from somebody who doesn´t have to live with THAT under your roof! But I won't stand for this! I won't have this in my house!”

“Fine, I'll take him!”

“What?!”

“You don't want him under your roof? I'll solve that problem for you, then. I'll take him. However he is. I'll take him.”

…

“What on earth happened to you, dear?” Mrs. Black seemed horrified when she laid eyes on him, as Lyn walked him throught the front door. Emmet, still dazed, wondered how bad he must have looked for her react that way. She put her hand on his cheek, and her blue eyes were filled with something he couldn't describe. “What has he done to you?”

Only then did he cry. Only then did he allow himself to sob.

It was Evelyn's mother who held him in her arms as he had, so foolishly, hoped his mother would.

“I...I...told them I...I'm sorry, I...” he pulled back and wiped his tears, suddenly aware that...she didn't know. Mrs. Black went to church with his mother. She didn't know he was...  A rush of panic coursed through him. What would she say? He couldn't. He couldn't go through this twice.

“Take a breath, pet.” she told him, pulling him to sit on the couch. “Linnie, love, go get the first aid kit in the kitchen, we need to patch this lad up a bit. And try not to alarm your sister, if you will. And where is your father?”

“He's waiting for Mrs. Finnerty to get him all of Fin's...I mean, Emmet's stuff.”

Mrs. Black nodded, as if she knew something. As if she had been expecting to be told exactly that. Lyn looked at her mother with the same knowing expression in her eyes and went to the kitchen as intructed.

Emmet felt like runnning away, as far away as he could.

“Mr. Black he said...I'm sorry,I have to...I have to go back, I can't...”

“Emmet, calm down.”

“Mrs. Black, I know you don't want me here. I...I'm...I mean, I...told my parents...”

“I know, pet. I know.”

“No you don't...”

“Emmet, my darling, why do you think I allow you to be in Linnie's room for hours with the door closed? I'm not stupid.” she laughed softly.

“How?”

“A mother just knows...”

“Mine didn't.”

“If she let your father do this, then she's not that competent of a mother is she?” Mrs. Black scoffed. “But, trust me...a mother knows.”

Then it clicked. Then he knew.

“You mean...” he trailed, stunned “...Paul?”

“I carried him inside me 9 months, I birthed him, clothed, fed him, cared for him till the day he left this Earth. Nobody knew him better than I did, except God.”

“God...” he spat out “My mother thinks God will send me to hell. Because the Bible says...”

“Oh pish-posh...I pray on the Bible as well as any Christian, but Jesus knows where I would be if I took  everything it's written in there so seriously. Thou shall now lay with a man, and whatnot, fine, but you don't see anybody that eager to give up their breakfast bacon because the Bibles says it's forbidden, now do you? Your parents didn't stone your sister in the town square when she left the house married for two days and pregnant for 2 months, did they? Like we all didn't know.  Enough of this nonsense, now, we need to get you fixed up. God, you're bleeding.”

“So I really can stay?”

“Do you want to stay?”

…

“So I stayed.” Fin smiled. He looked up at Doug and took a deep breath, hoping he didn't think it was sillly that he had tears in his eyes over this. But all he saw in Doug's expression was understanding...and love. So much of it.

“I stayed until we both left for college, Lyn and I. She studied history and I went for journalism.Mrs. Black was the one who got me my first camera, then Mr Black gave me my first professional camera, and books about photography and journalism. They did everything for me that a mother and a father would do. I stilll go back with Lyn to spend the holidays with them. Well, with her...He passed away a few months ago. His heart. Funny that of all things, it was his heart that would kill him.”

Doug's hands closed over his.

“Thank you.” he said, quietly. “For telling me all this. I know it wasn't easy.”

“I...” he didn't finish. Over Doug's shoulder he saw the restaurant door open, and Evelyn walk in, wrapped in a long, flowy, flowery dress. “There she is.”

[enby-crisis]

Coffee For Your Head

Summary: You are friends with Vanya and are on your way to practice with her but she was called in for a “family meeting”. You met Five and he asks you on a date.

Word Count: 1309

Warnings: None

Requested: Yes!!

A/n: Sorry this is hella late. I had a really hard time thinking of a title... Hope you like it though!!!

You walked into the little donut shop on your way to meet your best friend Vanya. She loved this place as a kid and you wanted to see her get that happy nostalgic smile when she thinks of all the nights she spent here as a kid. They were some of her better memories. You never met any of her family but she told you that they were a rowdy bunch. And you believed her.

You sat at the counter with a copy of Les Fleurs du mal. Poetry. It was something that you could pick up and read when you needed to pass the time and as you waited for your very simple order of two glazed donuts, a coffee, and a black tea, it kept your mind from drifting. For some reason there was this dark haired kid at the other end of the counter staring at you, breaking your focus.

"French poetry?" The boy finally asked. "Is it in the original language or are you one of those girls who likes to look foreign and smart? Because you don't look like one of those girls trying to be smart. You look like you are smart."

You sigh though your nose and sit straighter on your stool. "I learned French before I learned English so if you are smart you'd assume it's in French." You go to pick up the book again.

"That only answered one of my questions sweetheart." He smirks and you almost hit him.

"Listen I don't know who you think you are or why my intelligence is any of your business but I'd appreciate if you just let me get my order and leave before you embarrass yourself or worse me." You sass as a response.

"Oh? Feisty are we?" He says, leaning over the spot between the two of you. He's studying you. You know this. So you study him. "What instrument?" He asks, pointing at the small case behind you.

This completely catches you off guard but you try your best to recover quickly. "What?"

"What instrument do you play?" He repeats. "Violin correct? My sister plays."

"Actually cello but my friend talked me into trying the violin. Speaking of her, I should go." You say side-eyeing the bag the lady sets in front of you.

"Wait!" The boy jumps up and grabs your hand, you pull your hand from him and pick up the violin case.

You look at him expectantly.

"Go on a date with me." He half-plead.

"No. I-I can't. I'd like to but I'm already late. Maybe another time." You smile.

As quickly as you can manage you rush out of the shop and finish your journey to your friends apartment. You walk up the stairs to the second floor and knock twice. That's all it took for Vanya to appear and let you in.

"Hey I'm sorry about this but I have to go to the academy today. We'll have to save your violin lesson for another day." Vanya blurts.

"Vanya it's okay!" You chirped, "How about we eat first then head over? I could drive?"

"You sure? My family might have questions you don't want to answer." She rubs her sleeves together. Her cardigan was a size too big. It was probably one of yours.

"Yes, Vanya, you could use some back up with them. I'm perfect for that!" You beam.

"What are you going to do? Turn invisible?" She laughs as she pulls out her donut.

"Well," You smile, "I can also read minds, I could throw something at them if they're mean to you." You float your cup towards you as a demonstration.

"Remind me again how you got here?" She grumbled.

"You mean being 19 and having powers like you?" Vanya nods, though a mouthful of her breakfast. "All I remember is a white room. There was this other girl but I guess they liked her more. Instead of killing me when I was seven they gave me to an adoption agency in 2008. That's really all I remember." You glance at Vanya as she thinks.

"I should've told you this sooner but your a year and a half younger then one of my brothers." She smiles mischievously.

"I though you hated all of your brothers?" You question.

"Yeah, I do, but this one is not half bad. Little snarky but I know you and I know him and you could put him in his place!" Vanya cheers as she stands to get ready.

"Vanya I tell you this every time. I don't date people." You say, leaning on the door frame.

"Well you're in luck (Y/n)! Neither does he!!" She teased.

"Vanya you're my best friend and you know I'd do anything for you but I am not going out with your brother." You say, grabbing your keys and heading out the door with Vanya on your heals.

"We'll see." She giggles to herself.

At the grand entrance of the Academy, you stood taking the expensive antique furniture thinking of how Vanya turned out the way she did.

"Who invited the bomb?" Her bulkier brother questioned.

"I did." Her sister says. "Vanya!" She hugs Vanya and you stand awkwardly behind her, waiting to be introduced.

"Oh! Right... Allison this is my friend, (Y/n). We were in the middle of a practice when you called." Vanya explains.

"Well it is very nice to meet you (Y/n). I'm Allison. The rude one is Luther. The high one in my skirt is Klaus. Diego is in all black and..." She trails off in though.

"And I am Five." The boy from the donut shop smirks when you turn to face him. You assumed you masked your shock poorly.

"You. The boy from..." You point.

"Yeah it's so nice to see you again too Sweetheart." He uncrossed his arms and walked to the living room.

You followed behind Vanya and Allison.

You sat in between Vanya and Klaus, half listening to the "family meeting." It was a lot of Five talking and the rest giving input. Something about alternate timelines. It wasn't until Diego spoke that you sat up and paid more attention.

"Well Vanya brought her into this!" He provoked, "She doesn't even have powers!"

You look at Vanya, who just looks away as she rubs her neck. "Actually..." She trails off.

"Actually what?" Luther jumps in.

You stood up "Actually!" You pull a book off a shelf from across the room, startling everyone.

Five smirks as he nods at you, the rest are to embarrassed that you stood up to them.

"I can also read minds so if you could stop thinking of me as a burden I'd greatly appreciate it." You reveled.

"Okay so she's in!"Five concludes and with that the meeting disbands.

You find yourself looking at family portraits and notice that Vanya isn't in any of them.

"So French poetry?" A voice startles you and you turn invisible before you can stop it.

"Invisibility?" Five crosses his arms again.

"Sorry. I-you scared me. That one is a bit more of a reflex. And my head hurts from mind reading for the past two hours." You admit.

"How about we explore your powers a bit more over some coffee? For your headache?" Five offers.

You smile and look over his shoulder to see Vanya lurking in a corner, watching you interact with him.

"Um," You think, making eye contact with Vanya, who gives you a thumbs up. "Sure if it'll get you to stop staring at me." You whisper.

@rainbowunicorn763​

[palbabor-writes]

dude uh so like dabi but as a father... like he would never but like no one day he gets left with this kid and he's not gonna abandon it bc he cant idk i just want to see dabi as a parental unit trying not to be a bad parent

lol, ppl ask me asks and i respond with a feature freaking film worth of words.  (//▽//) warnings: adult language, angst, mild spoilers for current manga chapters: 290 - 291

words: 3915 

notes: I answered this a little differently. It’s more of a longing for what could have been, rather than a kid of his own sort of thing. But, Dabi does his best damn it. Also, yeah, yeah, it’s another Greek title. I cannot be STOPPED. but i prolly should be. Not beta edited, so all mistakes are mine, and mine alone.

Pónos 

ponos /ˈpoʊˌnɒs/ or ponus /ˈpoʊnəs/ noun  Ancient Greek: Πόνος Pónos  the personification of hardship and toil

There’s a loud clattering noise that’s echoing along the polished floors and walls of the Meta Liberation Army’s base. 

Dabi hates these long hallways. They remind him of some kinda tomb, with all that reverberation and all those gleaming surfaces. They’re perfect for elongating and stretching voices and sounds. 

So whatever the fuck that racket is, it’s not like he’s going to be able to avoid it. He’d need to turn around to do that and he’s not about to fucking turn heel and retrace his steps. Besides, it would take him twice as long to go the other way. Nah, this path is easier, despite the looming annoyance of the commotion.

 He rounds a corner and catches sight of a young woman. 

She’s struggling with something as she reaches into her shoulder bag, and her back twists awkwardly as she leans both forward and sideways. Dabi can’t get a good look at her from here. But, he reasons, he also doesn’t care enough to bother with a second, closer, glance. Nope, all he’s gotta do is slip past her and he can be on his way. 

“Reo-- Reo! Please keep still. I need to get to my phone…” The woman’s voice sounds strained and that odd pattering noise that he’s been hearing since he stepped toward this hallway hasn’t stopped either. If anything, it’s worse. Is it her quirk? Is there somebody behind her? Does she have one of those remote talking devices? Like that the ones that the Doc gave to the League before all this fucking cult bullshit started. What-

Dabi’s thoughts wander to a screeching halt as a boy bumps into his shins. He blinks at the sensation and stutters to a stop, his eyes glinting at the small form. The kid, who looks about four or five, stumbles backwards and cranes his head, looking up at this new discovery he’s run into. 

The boy studies him and, for a brief moment, Dabi worries that his face might spook the kid bad enough to send him into a sobbing and crying fit. Dabi’s not exactly the easiest thing to look at now. But, the kid seems ok with gawping at him, his violet eyes goggled and wondering. 

“Reo-” the boy’s mother repeats, replacing her phone and scanning the hallway for her rogue offspring. “I--Uh, there you are! I’m sorry...Oh, you’re one of those new generals. I’m afraid I don’t remember your name. Ooh, oh my gosh, now that you’re here, would you mind watching him for a moment? I’ve gotta run something back to Skeptic…”

That woman is saying something but Dabi’s too involved in his strange standoff with the boy. Neither he, nor the kid, seem to have the wherewithal to pull their gazes away. No, they both just watch each other, the former maintaining his aloof scowl and the latter is putting on an amazing show of raw fascination. 

“So, just don’t let him get up to too much trouble and I’ll be right back. Won’t be more than a minute.”  

Huh?

Dabi whips his head up, suddenly realizing what’s being asked of him. Like fuck he’s gonna watch this kid. Wait...where did she go?

He twists and turns, his cerulean eyes flashing up and down the sterile hallway, but there’s no sign of her. What the hell? How can someone dematerialize that quickly? He didn’t even say yes, for fucks sake. What a negligent, irresponsible parent she is, to just leave her kid like this with a complete stranger. Pfft, stranger feels a bit weak, honestly. Nah, Dabi’s a walking, talking freakshow. Nothing about him looks safe or dependable. There’s a pull on his dark pants and he automatically shakes his leg against the sensation, agitated. What now? 

Ah.

Junior is blinking up at him, those chubby hands wrinkling the rough fabric between his tiny digits. “Hi,” he beams, his pearly baby teeth straight and gleaming, “I’m Reo!”

“Yeah,” Dabi scoffs, knocking the kid’s hands away. “I heard. Where did your, er, mom go?”

“What’s your name?” Reo prattles, following Dabi as he skulks a little ways down the hallway, his brow furrowed and shoulders tense. Now what is he going to do? He could leave, tell the kid to stay put and go about his business. He doesn’t have time for this, after all.

“Hey!” Reo calls and Dabi turns at the slightly frantic note in the child’s voice, his eyes sharp. 

“Whadda’ want kid? I’m trying to find your mom.” 

“I said my name is Reo-”

“And I said I heard you. Tch, you’re so loud there’s no way half of the building didn’t hear you,” Dabi snaps, looming over the little boy, his mouth pressing into a deep frown. 

“I told you my name, so..so now you gotta tell me yours,” Reo scolds, those violet eyes shining. Dabi can see that the kid’s tiny frustration is rising at the thought of some adult being so rude as to not answer his newly engrained social niceties. 

“Hmph,” Dabi snorts, a low laugh puffing out of his lips. “The name’s Dabi.”

Reo digests that, his nose wrinkling as he mouths the unfamiliar name to himself, like he’s wanting to get it just right when he speaks it aloud. It’s kinda cute, Dabi muses. You know, in a stupid sort of way.

“D- Dadi?” Reo mimics, stumbling over that all important ‘b’ in Dabi’s name.

“What? No. It’s DABI. It’s got a ‘B’ in it. Like, uh, b as in, uh, bear. You know what a bear is, yeah?”

“A bear?” Reo asks, biting his lip at the strange change of topic. “What about a bear?”

“You got my name wrong, kid. It’s Dabi, not DaDi. My name has a ‘b’ not a ‘d.’ Try again,” Dabi groans, sinking to his haunches and praying that this kids mom will rematerialize any goddamn second. 

“Dadi,” Reo mimics, still fumbling. 

“Ugh,” Dabi sucks his teeth and begins to stand again. 

“Hey! Pick me up?” Reo requests, his arms lifting, stocky fingers clenching and unclenching into his palms, opening and closing in a repetition of a familiar demand. 

“Pick you up?” Dabi repeats, incredulous. What the fuck is wrong with today? The only thing that could make this worse is someone seeing this odd performance.

“I’m not gonna pick you up,” Dabi growls, his lips pursing at the kid. “You’re just fine where you are. Besides, don’t kids like you need to practice walking? How old are you anyway?”

“Five,” Reo chirrups, puffing his chest out, like he’s expecting a rainfall of praise to fall on him now that he’s verbally acknowledged that he is indeed, a big boy.

“That’s too bad, kid. If you’re five, you’re definitely old enough to walk under your own power,” Dabi snorts, bemused by Reo’s chipper attitude. Doesn't that get tiring? All that smiling and pacing that he’s doing? Dabi’s never had much experience with little kids, well, other than his own contact with his younger siblings, but they were never this...chatty.

“Awe,” Reo whines, his head falling, little chin bumping as it hits his collarbone dejectedly. Dabi shakes his head at the dramatic reaction. Sulking is better than crying, he reasons, turning his head to look for the boy’s mother again. She said it would only take a minute? The fuck was she?

“Hey, kid. Where were you and your mom before you came here?”

There’s a strange, static-like quiet that follows Dabi’s question. That’s weird. He would have figured that his new query would have broken the boy out in another rash of talkative excitement. So for him to be…

Wait. 

Dabi turns back and his eyes scan the newly barren hallway for the boy. The fuck? Where did he go? His gaze is still whisking frantically when he spots the heel of Reo’s shoe disappearing beyond the next corner. Fucking wonderful.

He paces after the boy, his long legs pulling him quickly along. Again, he wonders why he gives two shits. It’s not his kid, not his responsibility. Yet there’s some nagging pressure that keeps beating at the back of his mind. It’s likely some pieces of a fragmented lesson that had been taught to him long ago. Back when he wasn’t like this. Long before he’d made the decision that sent him on this mindless trajectory, lingering in the obsession of his pent up rage and hurt.  

You’re the eldest. 

Take care of your sister. 

Easy, he’s still a baby. That’s right, hold him like that. You’re such a good brother. 

You’re the one who he can go to when he needs help.

Thank you, Touya. You did so, so well! I’m sorry I had to leave for a bit, but thank you for watching him. 

It’s a big job, and one that you’ll always have, so, can you do it?

You’re their big brother. They look up to you.

Look! She’s happy to see you, Touya!

Dabi snarls at those little flashes of memory, his teeth gritting. No one needs him. Fuck, he’d be more likely to kill them than help them now. Or, at least that’s what he keeps telling himself. Drilling it in, over and over, until he can repeat that vitriol like it’s some kinda twisted prayer. He’s not that boy anymore and he can never, ever go back. He’s made sure of that. 

“Hey! Hey kid! Get back here! You little shit!” 

A loud, male voice is booming up ahead and Dabi jogs the last few steps, his head already uplifted and searching as he rounds the corner. There’s a tall, unfamiliar man in the next hallway and he’s looking away, watching as Reo sprints from him. 

“Fuck, man. Why you gotta yell at him?” Dabi scolds, his cerulean eyes glaring. The man whirls around and Dabi notes the source of his ire. There’s a large stain, bleeding against his crisp white button up and an upturned mug is clutched in a tight fist. Kid must have bumped into him and knocked his coffee out. Well, that fucking sucks, but it’s no reason to freak out at the little guy. He’s five for fuck’s sake. Not like he did it on purpose. 

“He burned me! He ran around that corner and smack into me! Control your kid, you ass! I know you’re one of those hoity toity new generals but you gotta--”

“He’s not my kid,” Dabi snaps, already shoving past the blustering idiot. If he hurries, he can snatch the boy up before he gets too much farther. 

“You sure are running after him like he is!” 

The taunt chases him as Dabi stalks away and it makes him grind his teeth again. Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, he repeats, all he’s gotta do is get the kid and wait for the mom. Besides, he’s in too deep now. He can’t just abandon him. Fuck, with his luck, he’d run into the mom before he ran into Reo again.

The next hallway leads to one of the many common rooms. 

Dabi, realizing this, begins to jog again, suddenly desperate to catch Reo before he wanders into even more members of this crazy cult. Or worse, he gulps, a member of the League. He’d never live it down if the kid bumped into Compress or Shigaraki. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

As he skids along the next turn, Dabi catches sight of the kid. He’s wavering beside the double doors of the common room and he looks distinctly lost, his dark head turning every few seconds, those violet eyes of his wide. 

“Oi! Reo! Stop running,” Dabi calls, already lowering himself to a kneeling position, his long, mangled arms outstretched. He’s hoping he’s painting some kinda welcoming picture with this gesture and not just creating a terrifying pantomime of comfort.

Reo looks back and he lets out a little squeal of recognition and delight. Excited he is finally going to be picked up. His shoes tap loudly against the tiles as he dashes into Dabi’s oddly warm embrace. 

Once he’s got a good grip on the boy, Dabi rises to his feet, keeping the kid’s body securely against his. At first, Reo protests the tight hold, his back bowing and squirming, but Dabi stills him with a long, hard, stare.

“Don’t do that,” Dabi chastises, wincing against the pull on his marred skin. 

“Oh! Does it hurt?” Reo asks, carefully bringing his swinging feet to a standstill, noting the grimace of pain on Dabi’s scarred face.

“Yeah,” Dabi confirms, shifting Reo to his hip so he can free up his other arm to adjust a pinching staple. “My skin ain’t exactly healthy. Now, let’s get you back to your mom before she finds out that you fuc-- I mean...that you dashed off like that. Give people a heads up next time, huh? Making me run all over the compound after--”

“Oh! Who’s that you’re holding?”

“Gosh, he looks just like you! With that dark hair and those bright eyes of his. Is that your son?”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

Dabi tosses a glare over his shoulder, but the two women keep walking toward him, cooing at Reo’s pleased little face. One of them reaches up and ruffles the boy's hair and Dabi instinctively takes a step back, a snarl lifting his lips over his white teeth.

“He’s not my kid,” Dabi corrects, for what feels like the umpteenth time today. It’s only the second, but twice is two times too many. 

These women are being ridiculous. They don’t look that much alike. He’s just got dark hair, that’s all. If they knew what color Dabi’s hair really was they wouldn’t even make that connection. With his true coloring, Reo would be another kid and Dabi would be some fucking freak who’s left holding him. He’s not this kid's anything, least of all his protector. 

It’s not his job to look after this half pint, nor is it his job to care about him. Even if he reminds him of some sliver of what was, what could have been. No, Dabi is just some schmuck who somehow stumbled into this absurdity. It would be easy to unwind those trusting arms and lower this kid back to the ground, he’s not sure why he’s still holding him. He should...he should put him down...He... 

For some reason, that last thought makes his heart squeeze, pressing an irregular beat against his breast. He shakes his head at the sensation, burying whatever bubble of emotion that is trying to rise back down, pressing it deep, smothering and covering until he feels normal again. 

“He’s right! I’m not. Because he’s Dadi!” Reo confirms, simultaneously standing up for his new, haphazard, caretaker and throwing him under an oncoming proverbial bus in the same breath. Goddamn it all.

“That’s so sweet! Your son is beyond adorable!”

“He’s not…” Dabi begins, but bites his tongue. What good is it doing him anyway? These flunkies of the Meta Liberation are just fawning over Reo anyway. He’s honestly stunned they’re still talking to him at all. 

As they’re tickling and petting at the boy, a sudden thought springs into his mind. Actually, this might not be too bad. If he can get one of them to take the kid, he can fucking slink away, his responsibility finished, job done. 

“Oi, one of you can take him. He’s waiting for his mom. She said something about meeting with that Skeptic dic-- guy.”

“You want us to watch your son?” One of the girl’s questions, her head tilting at his demand. “Wouldn’t you rather wait for her yourself? You don’t know us and, well, not that we’d do anything bad...but that feels strange. Besides, you’re doing a great job! Look how happy he is. The two of you are so cute!”

Amazing. 

Apparently, Dabi, despite his hardened and rough persona, one that he has cultivated and built up for years, mind you, could now add, “cute,” to that resume of terror that he is building. 

Sighing, Dabi tries a more direct approach. “You seem to like him a lot, so just keep an eye on him until his mom comes back. It’s not hard. He likes being held, so just, er, hold him.”

Reo, sensing that he’s about to be deposited out of Dabi’s warm grasp, begins to wiggle again, his hands clinging to Dabi’s skin. He’s trying to be gentle, remembering Dabi’s earlier warning, his small digits tapping rather than digging, but he’s still scrabbling against the pull.

The woman clicks her tongue and smiles, tucking some of her long hair behind her ear. “Your son is so precious! He must really love you. Look, Han, isn’t this kid is the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen!” Her friend chuckles and agrees and the cheerful sound makes Dabi seethe. 

“Like I told you, he ain’t my kid. Now knock the wax outta your ears and take him,” Dabi snarls, still pushing Reo outward, hoping beyond hope that this calamity will just fucking end. 

“Dadi,” Reo pouts, his nose wrinkling as he burrows his face into Dabi’s arm, his skin hot against Dabi’s purple flesh.

“If he’s not your kid,” the woman named Han says, propping a fist on her hip, “why does he keep calling you daddy?”

“He’s not calling me that,” Dabi grumbles, his eyes lingering on Reo’s distressed slump. “The kid can’t say my name, which is Dabi. For some fucking reason the “b” is alluding him.”

“Fucking?” Reo questions, his brilliant purple eyes lifting, searching Dabi’s deep blue gaze. When he doesn’t get an answer, he repeats the word, lingering on those harsh syllables a little longer than he needs to. God, Dabi thinks, pulling Reo back to him, trying to muffle the boys bewildered tests of his new word. This is beyond ridiculous.

“Uh-oh,” another, male, voice resounds. Dabi scowls at the newcomer, watching as he steps beside the women, his eyes widened in mock concern. “That your kiddo?” He asks, his brow arching at Dabi’s now openly hostile form. 

“Fuc-- Again? I gotta answer this again?” Dabi snaps, shifting Reo back to his hip, just above his belt. “No. No, he is not mine.”

“Sure about that?” the man quizzes. “He’s sure got your hair and, uh, your vulgarity down.” 

“He’s that woman’s...Look, his mother went to go see that Skeptic bastard. So, you wanna help me out here? Any of you idiots want to do something useful? Hmm? Go into that big meeting room, the one past the common area and get her. I bet that’s where she went. When you see her...tell her, her kid is going wild. Stop...stop looking at me like that or I’ll torch you where you fuc-- where you stand.”

Instead of being cowed by his threat, the Meta Liberation Assholes just laugh, the three of them leaning against each other as they heave with their amusement. And Reo? Well, he’s seemingly amused by all the ruckus, giggling and murmuring little nothings into Dabi’s skin, nuzzling into Dabi’s inhuman warmth. Dabi feels that strange tugging at his heart again and in his anger and distant horror, he spews more rage onto the trash that’s daring to chortle so openly in front of him.

“Goddamn it, I’ll make each of you pay for this you...you stupid--”

“Dabi?”

Can a hole open up under him? That would be absolutely perfect and he’d be so, so grateful. He cranes his neck and catches sight of the last person he wanted to see. Fucking, Twice. His costume is making those white eyes of his comically wide and his hands lift to clap at his face, always dramatic and overblown to the last.

“Who is that sweet little boy? The hell are you doing with that child?!?”

“He’s--”

“It’s his son!” The ‘Han’ woman calls, still clutching her sides, her eyes wet from her mirth.

“No,” Dabi groans, his head dropping lamely. He wants nothing more than to fry each and everyone of these fucking pieces of shit. The desire is so strong he can feel the creeping of heat that’s rising in his palms and tickling up his piercings, scalding his skin against the metal. No, he scolds himself, he can’t do that. Not with Reo in his arms. He’s gotta be careful. He can’t hurt the kid. It’s not his fucking fault he’s been trapped in the care of a monster like him. 

Dabi gasps at his sudden, protective instincts. The fuck? This kid is nothing to him. Nothing. He doesn’t remind him of anyone. No, he’s nothing like his little brothers, all questions and sweet, brief hugs. He’s not...he’s not…

Reo’s hum of agitation breaks Dabi from his swirling emotions. The boy tries to lift his legs away from Dabi’s hips, his arms wrapping around Dabi’s neck, suddenly unsure and starting to whimper. 

“It’s too hot,” he complains, his voice small and soft in Dabi’s ear.

“I know,” Dabi concedes, taking another deep breath, trying to still that rushing rage that is lingering in the back of his mind. “Sorry kid, it should stop in a minute.”

“Ok,” Reo nods, his black hair mingling with Dabi’s spiky tendrils. 

Twice has stepped forward and he’s standing beside Dabi, his head cocked, looking from the shivering boy to Dabi’s haggard expression. “He does look a lot like you,” Twice ponders, his fingers tracing his chin meditatively. There’s something about Twice that Reo is bothered by and his face falls into the hollow of Dabi’s neck and shoulder, straining his body against Dabi, away from the black and red suited man that’s beside Dabi’s elbow.  

“Fuc-- Piss off, Twice,” Dabi growls, his blue eyes narrowing and hardening as he pats comfortingly at Reo’s back, twisting from Twice’s curious stare. “You’re freaking the kid out. Hey! Hey, don’t you assholes have some bootlicking to do?” Dabi snaps, his eyes lifting to the gaggle of MLA members, who are still giggling and whispering across from him. And, just as those words leave his lips, Reo’s mother, finally, finally returns. 

“Oh thank you!” She coos, raising her arms to Reo and peeling him away from Dabi. To Dabi’s shock, Reo still shakes his head, his arms retightening around Dabi’s tense neck.

“Oooh, he’s taken a liking to you I see!” 

“You gotta let me go, kid,” Dabi whispers into Reo’s ear, unlacing his little arms. Reo whines and pouts as Dabi presses him back to his mother, a sigh of relief shuddering from his mismatched lips. Thank fucking God. Now he can have this woman tell all of those shits that he’s not this boy’s father...wait...what the fuck? Oh...oh, now they all leave.

The MLA lackeys are drifting away, walking in a tight bunch as they re-enter the common area, soft grins still lingering on Dabi. And Twice? Twice is snickering openly and making his way down an adjacent hallway, no doubt off to tell Toga what he’s seen.

“Thanks again. Looks like you did a great job,” Reo’s mother repeats, shifting her son to a better position, trying to quiet his frantic scrabbling, his small arms still reaching, struggling for Dabi.

“Dadi!” Reo cries, a few tears falling from his soft face as he’s walked away. In another heartbeat, they’re both gone and all Dabi has left of that strange little kid is the lingering sting and warmth of his embrace on his burned skin.

Notes: Dabi is a grump. Or is he? o(TヘTo)

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @evesmores

[cali-holland]

The Talk- Harry Holland One Shot

Pairing: Harry Holland X Osterfield!Reader

Requested by Anon: Hey!! Could I please request one where Harry is dating Harrison’s sister and living in the house with them all and the whole dynamic between her and the boys? You’re my fave Holland/Osterfield writer 🤩

Prompt: Your older brother, Harrison, tries to give you the sex talk.

Word Count: 1600

Featured song: I Just Had Sex by Lonely Island (linked Julianne Hough’s Lip Sync Battle because that was the true inspo)

Masterlist   Harry Holland Masterlist

*Not my gif*

Warnings: swearing, conversations about sex/condoms/pregnancy...

~~~

“Asshole, stop cheating!” You groaned, kicking your brother’s calf as you sat on the floor and he stood in front of you.

“I’m not cheating. You’re screen peeking!” Harrison argued. He lifted his foot and stretched it backwards towards your face.

“Oh my god.” You gagged as you moved away from the terrorizing foot.

“Ah, sounds like Mario Kart.” Harry laughed, coming into the room.

“Yeah and Y/N won’t stop screen peeking.” Your brother sidestepped to stand in your way again. You groaned, getting up while you kept your eyes intently focused on the screen.

“Hi, Harry.” You acknowledged your boyfriend’s presence. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, leaving you to fight out the last lap of Mario Kart with your older brother. “How was the shoot?”

“It was good. I take it you had fun this afternoon?” He laughed, laying down on his side on the couch as he watched you and Harrison elbow each other while trying to play.

Harrison was your older brother and best friend; when you had no one else, you always had him. And then he introduced you to Tom, who then introduced you to Harry. Sparks flew instantly between the two of you, but it wasn’t until six months ago that you started dating Harry and wasn’t until recently that you started staying at his place, which was technically also Harrison’s place and Tom’s and Tuwaine’s- and sometimes Sam’s. Like any protective older brother though, Harrison wasn’t a fan of you staying the night, but like any good younger sister, you still spent most of your nights with Harry. In your defense, their house was a lot closer to campus than your apartment.

“Well, I finished my research project early and then this div challenged me to Rainbow Road.” You explained. Knowing you were too far in the lead, Harrison licked his finger and stuck it in your ear, making you shriek in surprise. He and Harry both burst out in laughter. As you crossed the finish line in first, you hit your brother with the controller. “Fuck you, I won!”

“You get so heated over Mario Kart.” Harry chuckled.

“Loser cleans up!” You declared and Harrison shook his head.

“Ah, no. I set it up. You clean it up.” He argued. Your boyfriend sighed from the couch, clicking the remote to turn off the TV.

“There.” He said, and you smiled, laying down with him on the couch. He draped an arm over your waist while you brought him in for a kiss.

“Ok, ok, I get it. I’m not wanted anymore.” Harrison scoffed playfully, rolling his eyes at the two of you borderline making out in front of him. He quickly left the room, and you pulled back from Harry with a giggle.

“I thought he’d never leave.” You joked, feeling his fingers play with the hem of your shirt.

“I missed you today.” Harry mumbled, his lips gliding over yours as he spoke. He’d only been gone a couple hours, doing a photoshoot for the Brothers Trust, but his words still brought a warm smile to your face. 

“I missed you, too.” You replied before capturing his lips with yours for a little lazy makeout session. You both knew only Harrison was home so neither of you were exactly worried about someone walking in, since your brother liked to stay clear of when you and your boyfriend were alone.

A couple days later, somehow you and Harrison were left alone again in the house, and you spent your time working on essays in the home office Harry and Tom had “made”.

“Hey, Y/N, can we, uh, can we talk?” Harrison asked, clearing his throat as he stepped into the room. You knew immediately those were the words of your brother, not your best friend or housemate.

“Yeah, what’s up?” You turned to face him as he sat on the nearby couch. He fiddled with his fingers nervously, before running a hand through his hair.

“Well, I know that you kind of live here at this point, and it’s been a month since you started staying over. And- and I know, that I told you it was okay, but you’re still my baby sister, you know?” He started nervously and you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to decide what he was getting at exactly. “I get that you’re 21, you can make your own choices, and you know I’m completely for you being your own independent woman. I’m concerned that- well, I know, Harry’s a good guy and I trust him, but he’s a guy-“

“Haz, are you trying to give me the sex talk?” You asked with a laugh of disbelief. Your brother’s cheeks turned bright red. Part of you wondered if he knew for sure that you and Harry had had sex before, but there was no way for Harrison to absolutely know since you two only ever did it when the house was empty.

“It’s an important thing to discuss!” He insisted as he attempted to regain some composure. “Look, Y/N, Harry’s your first serious relationship, but you aren’t his. I’m just trying to look out for you, make sure you know that you don’t have to do anything with him if you’re not ready for it- and really you shouldn’t be ready yet. It’s a painful experience for a lot of women.”

“Oh my god.” You hid your face in your hands, wishing he’d just end it there. “I went through sex ed, Haz, please stop.”

“Okay, so then you know to use protection. You can never be too safe. I don’t know about Harry, but never let a guy tell you that condoms are uncomf-“

“Stop!” You whined.

“If you need to go on the pill or get an implant, I’ll be fully supportive of that too.” Harrison continued on.

“Thanks. Are you done now?” You asked, still refusing to look at him.

“Not quite.” He replied, making you let out a groan. The humor of his awkward bluntness was gone and the torture was endless, “Now, if something happens-“

“You mean if I get pregnant?” 

“Yes. If that happens, I’ll do everything to help you because you’re still my sister, no matter what. And if Harry leaves you, I’ll beat him up for you.”

“How nice.” You replied sarcastically as you rolled your eyes.

“I just say all this because Tom told me Harry bought condoms the other day.” Harrison admitted, and you bit back a groan. Of course your boyfriend wouldn’t think twice about the implications of buying condoms in front of his brother, a.k.a. your brother’s best friend. By your reaction, your brother immediately knew what that meant. With wide eyes, he asked, “You’ve done it before?”

“Uh,” You trailed off, not really knowing what to say. You two were close, but that didn’t mean you wanted to go into detail about your sex life with your brother.

“You have! Oh my god, Y/N, you’re too young. What the hell?” He raised his voice, standing up from the couch.

“Too young? You were younger than me when you lost yours!” You shot back, “Look, I love Harry and he loves me. And at least you know we’re being safe about it!”

He paused, shaking his head like he was trying to get rid of the thought. He let out a sigh, turning to leave the room, “It’s fine, just forget about it.”

“Hey Haz?” You called back to him, making him turn to face you one last time in the doorway. “Thanks for looking out for me. I appreciate it.”

Harrison offered you a weak smile before he left the room. You let out a small sigh, you definitely needed to talk to Harry when he got home. It wasn’t until a couple hours later that Harry returned home from an event with Tom, and by that point, you were lounging on Harry’s bed, waiting for him.

“Hi, lovebug. How was your day?” Harry asked, laying down beside you on the bed almost immediately after he had taken off his shoes.

“I had a very, um, interesting conversation with Haz.” You joked, and he furrowed his eyebrows skeptically at you. Laughing, you explained, “Babe, maybe you shouldn’t have bought condoms in front of the biggest loudmouth we know.”

“Fuck, Tom said he wasn’t going to tell anyone.” He sighed.

“Well, he told Harrison, so I had to sit through the ever lovely sex talk.” You said sarcastically, and Harry pulled you in for an apologetic kiss.

“If it makes you feel any better, Tom tried giving me the talk, too, but I tuned him out.” He laughed, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Lucky you.”

“So, is Harrison going to beat me up now?” Harry asked with a chuckle as you pushed his curls out of his face, cuddling in closer to him.

“I hope not. I love this pretty face too much.” You pressed a kiss to his nose, softly cupping his cheeks in your hands. You gave him a proper kiss, lightly swiping your tongue over his lips and he smiled into it.

“Wait, I have an idea.” You said, pulling away from him momentarily to get your phone out. You connected your phone to the living room speaker, pulling up Youtube.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, trying to look over your phone.

“Sometimes, something beautiful happens in this world,” The song started, and Harry laughed, immediately recognizing Andy Samberg’s voice.

“Wait for it.” You teased.

“You don’t know how to express yourself so, you just gotta sing,” The song continued. “I just had sex, and it felt so good,”

You and Harry laughed as you heard a loud crash from downstairs, followed up by Harrison screaming, “What the fuck?”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex​ @theamazingtomholland​ @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart​ @joyleenl​ @t-o-m-holland​ @lonikje​

Harry Tag List: @tomkindholland​

[aliasimagines]

If You Hurt Her // R. H.

Roy Harper x batsis!reader

a/n: so, sad news, no lian in this. good news i definitely probably will write a sequel to this where batsis and lian meet for the first time. also double post today cause I was lazy all week. anyways hope you enjoy reading! ❤️

word count: 1169

warnings: a lil bit of making out in the beginning, Jason being a protective brother, some swearing because...it's me.

You shut the supply closet and pushed Roy against the wall. You slammed your lips against his. He smiled at your eagerness as he cupped your cheeks. Your hearts raced faster than a race car and neither of you could care less about the mission you were on. Roys lowered his arms, slightly brushing your shoulder before wrapping them around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Your brother's gonna kill me..." he mumbled against your lips. You pulled apart to catch your breath for a brief moment. You chuckled at his comment as you ran your fingers through his long ginger hair. You leaned in again, placing soft kiss on his jaw line.

" Don't worry about Jason, I can handle him." you whispered. "Worry about Damian."

Even though Damian was much younger than you, he was extremely protective of you. Roy could almost saw the little Wayne running towards him with a sword twice as big as the boy himself.

"Fuck.." Roy breathed out, still panting slightly.

Just as you were about to press your lips together again you heard Jason through your income.

"Guuuys, I could really fucking use some help over here!!"

You let go of Roy and turned your mic back on while busting out of the closet with Roy following close behind.

"On my way, Hood." you said running towards from where you heard the sound of gunshots

"Me too." Roy spoke getting his bow ready.

You ran in and helped Jason take out the bad guys along with Roy. Once the last man was down too Jason took off his helmet, leaving him only in his red mask.

"Where the fuck were you anyways? The two of you supposed to come here after turning off the security system."

Roy's cheeks suddenly matched the color of his mask and suit.

"Well, uhm we got into some diversion.." he said hand playing with his bow. You rolled your eyes under the mask.

"We got caught and had to fight off a few guards." "Okay, let's get what we came for." your brother turned around and walked out the door, leaving the two of you behind. Roy turned to you with a sad expression.

"I can't keep lying to him Y/N!" he whisper yells. You exhale loudly. It did feel wrong to you too, lying to your brother. In the beginning you didn't tell because what if the relationship didn't work out and then it would make things awkward and all but... You really fucking liked Roy. And things were going peachy. Maybe it was time to tell Jason too.

"Allright. After the mission we'll tell him, ok?"

He nods and goes after Jay .

Roy and Jason packed the stuff in the car while you leaned against the vehicle and watched them. They joked around causing you to smile. Roy was one of those few people who your brother trusted and you knew that he would approve of your relationship. Eventually. He sure as hell will start a fight first.

Soon you all climbed in the car, Jason in the driver's seat you next to him and Roy in the back.

"This was a nice job, guys." Jason said as he drove off. You hummed in agreement and put on some music.

"Yaaas, Bowling for Soup! I love you sis!" yelled Jason. You smiled at your brother and automatically reached back to grab Roy's hand. You felt his fingers intertwine with yours. You strengthened your grip in a reassuring way and he run his thumb your hand.

"Jay.." you called over the music, interrupting Jason's mini concert.

"..she was gonna be an actress, she was gonna be a star, she was gonna shake her ass on the hood of Whitesnake's car, her yellow... Yeah?" he looked at you for a second questioningly before turning his attention back on the road while continuing to humm the song.

"Well I would... We would like to tell you something." you began.

"What did the two of you broke?"

You and Roy laughed nervously.

"Nothing... I think." you thought for a second. Taking a big breath you said it.

"Jay, Roy and I are dating."

There was a brief moment of silence in the car, well expect for the music. To your suprise Jason broke into a loud laughter. His laugher echoed in the car and drowned the music. You glanced back at Roy and he stared back at you with wide eyes. Before you knew what was going on Jason pulled over and was out of the car pulling Roy out  as well.

Fuck

By the time you jumped out too Jason pushed Roy against the car and raised his fist. You grabbed his arm.

"Jay come one. It's Roy." you tried.

"Yeah, man. It's me." Roy's words were rewarded by a glare from your brother. "Sorry..."

"What the fuck, Harper?! My sister?!"

"Jaybird let me explain.." Roy said with his hands raised. Jason looked at you for a moment before stepping back and nodding.

"I'm all ears."

Roy stretched out, straightening his clothes and adjusting his cap.

"Look, man I am so sorry. I shouldn't have gone behind your back like this it's just.. Neither of us wanted to make things wierd, cause what if it didn't turn out to work and it would be awkward and you would beat the shit out of me but... You know I don't care about that now. Jason, I fucking love her. I seriously never thought I could be be in love this much."

Jason didn't even have time to say anything because you stepped in between the two.

" You...you love me?" you haven't yet said the L word to each other. Roy flashed a smile at you.

" Of course I do. " you, suddenly forgot about your brother and wrapped your arms around Roy.

"I love you too."

Jason watched you burry your face in Roy's neck as the of you embraced. He sure as hell was still pissed, mainly because you didn't tell him right away but looking at the two of you put a smiled on his face. But just small one, ok?

You were his baby sister no matter that you were older or younger, you are always gonna be his baby sister and he'll always want to protect you. But he knew you were in good hands with Roy. He was his best friend, someone he could rely on so in a way he was happy you were dating Roy and not some stranger.

"Okay, that's cute and all but if you're thinking about kissing in front of me, than think again." you pulled away from Roy laughing.

"So.. You're cool?" you asked. Jason shrugged.

"Yeah. I just wish you would have told me sooner"

You all went to climb back in the car but Jay pulled Roy close before he could get in.

"You are my best friend but if you hurt her I will kill you."

Roy noded. "I'm aware."

"Good."

[jamilelucato]

Muggle [F.W.]

*gif not mine

Pairing: Fred Weasley x muggle!Dursley!reader

Request: (anonymous) Could you do a imagine where the reader is a dursley aka Harry’s cousin. But when Fred and reader meet they don’t know, and they fall in love since she knows about magic. But she’s a muggle of course. So when Fred takes her to meet the family Harry’s so shocked. Maybe they use to love each other and trust each other like siblings but when he discovered he was a wizard they fall apart. Because Harry has other things going on. And maybe after forth year, they completely stoped talking and they both regret it. So when they see each other it hurts both of them, but they end up making up.

Summary: y/N Dursley is tired of being away from Harry because of her parents because he’s a wizard and because he stopped reaching out. She starts going after her cousin herself and she has the help of the Weasleys to do so.

Words: +6,3k

A/N: Had no idea where this was going until I wrote it. Hope you all like it; tried to keep it as coherent to the request as I could. There’s a scene where it was supposed to be Harry and y/N but I thought it would make more sense if it was other character speaking (you know it when you see it).

Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series

___

“Wait up, girls. I think I might know these guys,” she says just when her friends’ laughs are dying out.

She takes one last look to her back, hoping nobody will notice she’s checking out the tall and red-haired boys.

“Really? From where?” asks one of the friends in a whisper.

But y/N ignores the question. She takes one last sip from coffee and rush to catch the boys before they leave the place.

“Hey, you two!” she calls out after noticing she’s never going to catch them — one of their steps equals three of hers.

One of them looks at her first, tilting his head confused. The other one finally turns too, but he seems less intrigued than his twin.

“Are you... Weasleys?” she says when she gets close enough to them and whispers the last name as if it could be a curse-word or something. It was definitely prohibited in her household.

The twins exchanged looks, confused. They pretend to not recognize her — because they sure can’t remember from where they know her. She still doesn’t know why she decided to call them out anyway.

“Two of them, yes,” one of the boys answered, taking his time to mess with his red hair. The movement certainly showed some charm. “Why?”

She gulps — she was not expecting to be asked. However, the second twin, silently until now, decides to speak up.

“Aren’t you one of Harry’s cousins?”

She shakes her head yes, pressing her lips together at the same time. Remembering to have good manners, she offers them her hand.

“It’s y/N Dursley, actually.”

“Sure I presumed your name wasn’t ‘Harry’s cousin’,” giggled the twin that shook your hand first. He had a firm grip and a welcomed warm hand. He took his time with her hand, and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to let it go. “I’m Fred, by the way,” he smiled, finally freeing her hand.

The other twin quickly took your hand in his as soon as you were free.

“I’m George.”

“I remember you two. Left my brother with a big purple tong just a couple of weeks ago,” she commented, trying to diffuse the tension.

They exchanged looks, scared if the right reaction was to apologize or to laugh. It sure was rather fun watching the fatty get what he deserved for years of bad things to Harry.

Y/N noticed her comment had the wrong reaction and tried again. “It’s fine, you can laugh. He sure deserved it.”

The one who presented himself as Fred chuckled, more because of her face than because of her brother. However, the one said to be George remained in silence.

She gulped, noticing the awkward situation.

“Well, I just stopped you two because I wanted to know... about Harry,” she says with an anxious tone. Talking about Harry was always a hard thing — with her parents or with his friends. “I sometimes write him letters, you see — not that he replies — but he never shared your family’s address, and I’ve been... Rambling,” she chuckled, pressing a finger in front of her lips. “Sorry for the non-stop talk. I want to know if Harry’s okay, that’s it.”

George steps towards her but stops when he realized his twin had done the same and was faster to speak up.

“Harry’s perfectly okay,” says Fred with a smile that showed no teeth.

“He’s been well-taken care of,” added George. “Did your parents want to know?”

“Who? Petunia and Vernon?” she asks before burst into laughter. The idea that her parents could be worried about Harry was absurd. “No — it’s me who wanted to know.”

She breaths hard before stepping backwards, away from the boys. She’s starting to feel blue, and she doesn’t want them to see her in that way.

“Well, anyway... thank you, boys, for telling me. I was worried, and then I recognized your red-heads...” her voice died out. She raised her head and stared at the twin said to be Fred. “What were you doing here? Harry said wizards don’t hang in ‘munnel’ places.”

She had a great point.

“It’s ‘muggle’, dear,” George corrected y/N trying to hold his laugh.

“And we generally don’t. We have a friend, you see, muggle-born, that tells us this place has the best coffee in the world,” Fred raises his own cup of coffee to go. “We decided to see if it was true.”

“Don’t tell our parents,” chuckled George.

“Nor our little sister,” added Fred and they both started laughing at their particular joke.

Silence fell upon the three of them again. Y/N looked from George to Fred, taking her time to look at that last one. Somehow, he had captured her attention, and it wasn’t just today. Since the day they came to Harry’s rescue a couple of years ago — of course, she knew about the flying car, her window gave her a great view of the three red-heads inside it —, y/N has been fascinated with the family. She wished she had been born a witch, like Harry. Maybe he would stop avoiding her if they were equals.

She turned her face back to take a look at the coffee shop before facing the twins again.

“Sorry, boys, gotta go. Can’t let my own coffee run cold,” she smiled sympathetically. “Tell Harry to write to me, would you?”

“Sure,” answered Fred promptly.

“Thank you,” she replied and started walking away as slow as she could. That was the closest she had ever been to real wizards besides Harry, and she actually managed to keep a conversation! That was new, because last time those two same boys were in her living room, she blushed, frowned and hid behind a pillow. And that had happened just a couple of weeks ago!

“Hey! Wait!” a male voice shouted from behind her. She was turning while one of the twins was running towards her. She presumed it was Fred, although she couldn’t be sure — they were wearing the same clothes.

“What is it?” she asked, stopping her tracks so she could wait for him to reach her.

“I can give you our address. Would be easier to get a reply from Harry if you were to be the one to contact him,” he suggested, shrugging as if he didn’t care if she took the address or not. “Muggle’s post-men generally pass through our house.”

She shook her head yes non-stop, excited for the niceness of the boy.

“Here, do you have a...” his voice died before finishing the question because he had no idea what the muggles used to write things down. But he got a piece of paper anyway — it was the paper that surrounded his coffee to make it easy to hold.

“A pen?” she completed his phrase, chuckling. Then, getting one pen out of her pocket, she continued, “Always care one with me. Quite useful.”

“Pen,” he whispered, not to her, but to test the word in his accent.

She offered the thing to him. He stared at it as if it was magical.

“Never seen one, have you?” she asked, giggling with joy in her heart, but he was already writing down the address.

Fred tried to give her both the paper and the pen, but the last one she did not accept back.

“Take it; you’ll like it more than I do,” she explained when he looked at her, confused.

“Thank you,” he said, genuinely grateful, but she said nothing, and slowly he walked away, playing with the pen with his fingers. His twin met him half-way, and soon they were gone from her sight.

*** 

She had written to Harry. Twice, actually, and none of those times she got a reply. The first letter she sent to the address Fred gave her and the second one she sent to his school. It was funny because, although Harry Potter seemed in no mood to talk to her, his owl always showed up from time to time in y/N’s window, as if she waited for her to have something for Harry. And y/N usually had.

She was in the middle of her own classes in the public school, but she wasn’t paying attention to the History class. Frankly, she already knew what the teacher was teaching.

Inside her notebook, laid Fred’s note with his house’s address. She didn’t exactly know why she carried it around. Perhaps it meant she knew the address of a hot boy; perhaps it meant she knew a place only wizards lived. Whatever it was, she couldn’t stop staring at it and rereading it all over again.

It also had a kind of joke written on it. Fred didn’t give his real name to the waitperson, and, at first, she thought he was just scared of his name being too wizard-like. But it really wasn’t. His name was completely okay. Different from the one he actually gave the waitress — that one was a bit stupid.

Behind the address to the Weasleys, a single name was written: Merlin.

It took her a couple of minutes to remember where she knew that name from, and then she felt completely dull for not immediately getting it.

Merlin was King Arthur’s advisor and a powerful wizard, at least, that was the children books told her when younger.

Perhaps Merlin was real to them. Oh my God, Merlin was definitely real to them!

She tried once more to pay attention to the class instead of the note she had memorized, but it was worthless. When the bell announced she was free to go home, she felt some sort of relief. Part of her was thinking of writing a letter to the address she had, only this time it wasn’t going to be to Harry.

But that was stupid, right?

She didn’t have much time to think because as soon as she got home, one letter already waited for her.

“This came for you today,” said her brother in a disgusted tone.

She took the letter from his hands, desperate to see what was it about. Opening it up, she read:

Dear y/N Dursley,

This is Molly Weasley, the mother of Harry’s best friend, Ron. I’m writing to you because I’d figured you would like to come with me to Hogwarts, to watch Harry’s thrid task at the Triwizard Tournament. I’m sure by now you know all about it, but maybe your parents can’t come because of their muggle jobs — I don’t really know how it works — but perhaps you and your younger brother would like to come.

Please, write me back with a reply as soon as possible.

With love, 

Molly Weasley.

Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes. She read it at least twice before putting her backpack on the floor. Dudley stared at her suspiciously, he couldn’t understand what the letter was about or who was it from.

When she was sure she understood every word Mrs Weasley wrote, y/N rushed to the kitchen where she knew she’d find at least one of her parents. And there her mother was.

“Harry’s a participant in some Tournament?” she asked loudly.

Her mom looked up from the dough she was preparing, with an uptight look in her face. She didn’t like her kids screaming.

“Huh?!?” y/N threw the letter to her mom as if showing evidence. “And we were invited to watch? Never cared to mention, did you?”

Her mom got the paper and took her time to read it.

“What is this woman insinuating? That you are going with her to that wizarding place?” Petunia asked in a mocking tone before tossing the letter to the trashcan, but not before she tore it in pieces.

“Oh, I’m going!” you shouted. “Harry needs us, needs me.”

Petunia gave her a challenging look. She didn’t know y/N had memorized the Weasley’s address and therefore would not need to get the torn to pieces letter.

Y/N got a paper from her school bag and wrote a reply, saying yes she would go, any day that was. She also mentioned she knew nothing about the Tournament so if Mrs Weasley could explain, she’d like that very much.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Petunia asked from behind her daughter. Dudley watched excitedly.

“Replying,” she simply said. But now that it was written, what would she do? Fred Weasley had mentioned it could take days before a muggle post-man would pass their house... 

The answer didn’t need to be given. As if she knew and she waited, Harry’s owl came flying through the kitchen window and stopped right over the table, in front of y/N.

“Take this to the Weasleys, would you?” she said, giving the note to the owl, who didn’t wait for Petunia’s approval to leave the place.

“I can’t believe it! Your father wouldn’t like this, young lady!” her mom frowned.

“It doesn’t really matter to me. Now, how many letters has Hogwarts been delivering here about Harry that you guys haven’t told me about?” she retorted, getting up.

Her mom opened her mouth to speak, but she didn’t let her.

“Don’t say it doesn’t matter! Harry’s your nephew, my cousin! The only one I have!” she exploded, letting the anger domain. “I bet that if those letters invited you to study there, you’d have said yes! I bet you’d have gone!”

She walked away, but her mom fetched her by the arm.

“Young lady!” she shouted angrily, but y/N didn’t care.

“Wouldn’t you, huh? Or would you have gone?” she turned her face to see her mom, but the woman said nothing. She seemed hurt, which meant y/N had won. “Because I know I would. God knows I’d give anything to be out of here!”

And with that, Petunia let her go to her room.

***

Mrs Weasley and a pretty man named Bill Weasley appeared in front of her house in Privet Drive. They had a car with them — a flying one — and it was with that they were taking y/N to Hogwarts.

Y/N had counted hours to that moment. She even accepted Mrs Wealsey hug with a tight embrace, so thrilled she was.

Bill was the one driving while y/N was sitting in the back, but the trip was not awkward at all. Mrs Weasley asked y/N every possible question, and for once, y/N was glad someone could finally see her point of view about Harry and the wizards.

“I love Harry, I do. It’s just, he kinda left me behind with this thing of being a wizard, you know,” she said, hoping Mrs Weasley would understand her.

Bill seemed to get y/N’s point rather quickly, and she was glad for it. The Weasleys seemed so pleasant, all of them. And very handsome too, may she add.

“So, did Harry’s owl have any trouble finding you?” you asked when Mrs Wealsey’s questions seemed to have ended.

The woman exchanged looks with her son before gulping. Only then she answered:

“Well, actually, dear, I think Hedwig committed a mistake, even though that owl is incredibly good...” y/N raised a brow while listening. “You see, she delivered your letter to Fred and George at Hogwarts. They were the ones who sent the letter to me.”

Y/N could feel her facing frowning, the face of shock and confusion. She thought she had been specific to the owl, but I guess saying “the Weasleys” can mean a nine different people and there was no way the animal could know.

Bill, however, misunderstood your face.

“Fred and George are the twins, I don’t know you’ve met them...” he said, but his mom seemed to have a different opinion about the last part — Molly knew y/N remembered her twins, because they told her so, and, frankly, Molly had never seen Fred give a muggle so many compliments.

“Oh, I’ve met them,” y/N sighed, remembering that day so many days ago. She could visualize it as if it was happening right in front of her.

The flying car made a delightful trip. Molly told y/N that they usually never used it, but since they were caring a muggle, that was the only way they could take her to Hogwarts. Mrs Weasley informed that she made her husband upgrade it to make it safer.

“And he wants you to tell your experience with it, as a muggle,” continued the woman. She was nice but being called a muggle so many times was beginning to hurt.

When she finally arrived at Hogwarts, y/N was kind of disappointed. Is this it? An abandoned, ruined castle?

Bill noticed her look. “Don’t let it fool you. The castle is beautiful; it’s just that, from outside, muggles can’t see it,” there it was again, the little word y/N started to hate.

They walked in, and y/N finally saw what he meant. Hogwarts was more than beautiful — it was delightful, enchanted, unique.

That day y/N met so many wizards, she was sure that she would remember it as if the best day of her life. There were wizards from other places in Europe today as well. Some of them were Professors, some of them were parents of the other champions.

Now, she knew everything about the Tournament because Molly Weasley sent her — along with instructions of the day — a copy of a book about the competition and she spent the three whole nights reading it.

She asked if she could keep the book — a memory that wizards existed if Harry decided after today to cut relations with y/N — and Molly said she had bought it just for her.

They waited a bit before Harry finally walked in the room they were at. They were close to the fireplace, and Harry walked towards them. He didn’t seem to have noticed y/n was there too.

“Surprise!” Mrs Weasley smiled broadly and then she kissed him in the cheek.

“You all right?” said Bill, noticing Harry had finally seen his cousin.

Harry Potter stayed silently, and it seemed as if all the other families were watching the two interact. Harry loved her too, but he also knew her. She was always a fantasy lover, she would have loved to be a witch. Harry was just scared his own enthusiasm could hurt y/N.

“You came,” he said, simply.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Harry,” she smiled before ignoring her shame and pulling Harry to a hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t write much this year, I didn’t know about the Tournament,” she whispered in his ear while her tears fell.

Harry was more than a cousin, sometimes more than a brother. Y/N was just a couple of years older, but she saw him as her little boy. She had to raise him anyway because her mom couldn’t care to do it.

“I’m so sorry, y/N,” he whispered back, not letting her go yet. “I shouldn‘t have...”

“Shh..” she interrupted him, finally pushing him a bit away just to see his beautiful eyes. “It’s okay. Nobody wants to be friends with the muggle.”

She shrugged, hoping it would make Harry feel better, but it had the opposite result. She, however, didn’t let him say anything else.

Bill asked Harry questions about the castle — if it was still the same — and Molly joined in, telling her own experiences. Y/N had none, so she stayed in silence, hearing.

“Fancy giving us a tour, Harry?” Bill asked, and she knew he was doing it for her. It made her like the Weasleys a bit more.

“Yeah, okay,” agreed on Harry. 

After a few minutes of walking — the castle was enormous — a couple of other red-head found the four of them.

“Fred, George, what are you doing here?” asked Bill, pulling them to a short hug. Fred barely cared — he had his eyes locked on you.

“Paying a visit,” said Fred.

“We never see the family,” added George and Harry laughed.

They said hi to y/N too, but she replied blushing.

“I believe you two are gonna follow us in the tour,” said Mrs Weasley, raising a brow towards the oldest twin.

“Why not, mum?” said Fred, smiling. 

Harry just shrugged and continued guiding the group around. Fred and George always added information to Harry’s description — only to your ears because they were scared of their mother’s opinion — such as which prank they had done in each place, and where were the secret passages. Y/N like the company; it made her feel wanted.

They all stopped at the Great Hall, where they sat down at the Gryffindor’s table, as Harry explained to y/N.

“Oh, I’d like to sit at the green table,” y/N commented, pointing to it. 

Harry widened his eyes while Fred and George came to y/N’s rescue.

“No, you wouldn’t,” said Fred. But he said nothing more to explain what could possibly be wrong with that table.

The other Weasleys that still attended the school and a girl named Hermione Granger also sat next to them while they ate. They all seemed excited with each other, talking about all things that sounded really cool but you had no idea of what it meant.

The tour continued after eating, and y/N loved every moment of it. She was sure she’d love to study there. Would she and Harry be housemates? — oh, yeah, the Weasley girl explained to y/N why they sat at the red table instead of the green one.

Fred and George, surprisingly, followed Harry, Bill, their mom and y/N around all day. Something told y/N they were there for her, but her insecurity never let her be sure.

They were always making jokes and — when their mom wasn’t looking — they’d cast sparkling spells just to see her surprised and amused face.

By the time they had to go back to the Great Hall for the evening feast, y/N had no more doubts that it had been her favourite day of her life. She would have to write it down in a diary or something. For one day, she was just like Harry. For one day, she was a witch.

And that was all she ever wanted.

Then, it all happened.

They called Harry to the task, and they all left to watch. Y/N said her good luck to her cousin and watched him disappear inside the maze. She was uptight during the whole thing. Something didn’t seem right. Was a school suppose to send students inside a make in the middle of the night in an activity that could kill them?

Maybe being a muggle had its perks.

“He’s taking too long, isn’t he?” y/N asked Fred, the twin sat down to her left.

“I can’t tell. Never seen a Tournament before,” he answered.

“But what about the other tasks? Where those this long?”

”No,” sighed Fred.

He noticed she was apprehensive, and he wanted to do something about it. George, who was sitting at y/N’s other side, raised just one hand high enough for Fred to see and he understood.

“Take it,” he offered his hand to her, “you can squeeze it if you are too frightened.”

She looked to the hand and back at him. Such a pretty boy... why would he be nice to her? But it was her good day, so she didn’t think much more before grabbing it.

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Every time y/N heard a noise, she would squeeze his hand. Sometimes, she worried she was using too much strength to do so.

When Harry finally popped out of the maze, y/N didn’t think much before pulling Fred into a tight hug. He gripped her with all his force, scared that would be the last and only time he could do so. She probably thinks I’m a freak, he thought to himself.

But then, silence fell upon the crowd that once was cheering. Noticing something was wrong, y/N let go of Fred and rushed down to the field where Harry was over a dead body.

Cedric Diggory was one of the champions, and he laid lifeless in the ground. Next thing she knew, the place was chaotic. Mrs Wealey and Bill took her out of there, but she protested, saying she’d only live when she knew Harry was alright.

They decided to use one of the classrooms to stay with y/N as they waited for information about what was happening. Bill wandered around but quickly came back, noticing it was better to stay and protect his mom and the muggle.

When the door opened a couple of hours later, and it scared Bill for a second before he realized it was only two of his younger brothers.

“George, Fred, what are you doing here?” Mrs Wealsey asked, hugging her boys.

“Keeping you all company,” answered Fred.

“Actually, Mum, Bill, I think Ron wants to talk to you,” added George. 

“Ron? Why would...?” but Molly stopped talking when she realized how her son Fred looked to the muggle girl. She pressed her lips in a short smile before grabbing Bill. “Come on, Bill. And, hm, George, I think you need to show us the way.”

“Of course, mum, of course! Follow me,” and just like that, they left y/N alone with Fred.

“Take care of the girl, would you, Freddie?” requested Mrs Weasley.

“Sure, mum,” said Fred.

Y/N seemed unaware of the sat up, and Fred was glad for that. He wanted some time alone, maybe ask her on a date, but it seemed wrong now that he was about to do it. She was worried about her cousin.

“He’s fine, you know,” he started saying. “Harry is okay now.”

She looked at him, tilting her head unconsciously.

“The Diggory boy had an encounter with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Well, Harry faced him too. But Harry lived,” continued Fred, but he was rambling. Y/N was confused about those terms.

There was a dark wizard after Harry. Maybe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name was the guy. And Harry survived, so things were... fine?

“Where’s he?” she asked, unaware that Fred was glad they were alone together in a quiet room.

“Talking to Dumbledore,” he said, but that didn’t explain much to y/N. “Our Headmaster,” he added, pressing his lips together in the end.

Y/N sighed, getting up from her chair and walking around the room. There were many thoughts inside her head, and Fred started worrying if you were going to lose your mind. He would never have sent you here if he knew what was going to happen — if only Fred knew then Fred’d have burned that letter Hedwig gave him, but instead, he thought it was some type of sign and sent it to his mom.

He wanted to see y/N. He didn’t know why, but something about her face, her voice — even her mom side with Harry and, definitely, her curiosity with the Wizarding World — made him want to know more about her.

If you asked Harry, he’d say Fred was quite annoying, more than ever. He had all sorts of questions about the muggles to Harry, and he always made the conversation go to the Dursleys and end with y/N. Anything Harry knew about her, Fred now knew too.

“Well, there isn’t much I can do here...” y/N pondered aloud. “Perhaps I should go home. Petunia will be expecting me today, anyway.”

Fred couldn’t understand her words, so he stayed silent. That caused y/N to turn and face the ginger boy.

“Petunia’s my mum. Still don’t feel like callin’ her mum, though,” y/N said what she thought was an explanation, but Fred was still confused, even though he nodded, pretending to understand.

“If you wanna go home, I can get Bill to take you. ’M sure Mom won’t leave Hogwarts so early,” Fred sighed, thinking he would’ve to let her go without a chance to know her more.

“Thank you, Fred,” y/N stepped closer to the boy. “I wish I could stay, and God knows my rebel side is saying stay, but one of your teachers already notified me that, as a muggle, I shouldn’t stay much more.”

Fred bent his head and moved closer to her too. He was thinking.

“Perhaps you can. Sure there are exceptions, and Harry lives with you, so...”

“You can make them allow me to stay?” she asked, and her emotion was making her eyes sparks. Just then Fred noticed that, although worried and scared, she didn’t whine or cry, not even once.

Fred grabbed her hand in a rush of confidence. “Come with me, let’s find someone we can talk about this with.”

And they left. *** It was Professor Sprout that talked to Fred and y/N and honestly, she didn’t understand a word the teenagers were saying. She understood the girl was a muggle — it was obvious by the way her eyes shined, fascinated with the Professor’s clothes and wand — and she noticed Fred Weasley was in love with her.

Fred couldn’t stop side-looking at the muggle, and he nodded at every word she spoke. He also was holding her hand as if his life depended on it. Sprout had seen a lot of teens in love to recognize a couple at first sight.

So, of course, she said yes to the girl’s stay. She just warned:

“Keep her out of your dorm, will you, Weasley?”

The way both of their faces got blushed only confirmed Professor Sprout’s suspects, and she walked away laughing.

Y/N and Fred decided not to mention Professor Sprout’s comment and went to see Harry, who in the hospital ward.

They stayed there, accompanied by every other person that wanted to see Harry Potter — and believe, the place was crowded. The doctor — actually, Fred explained she isn’t a doctor as muggles know it — was a bit mad with all the people around, but y/N did the same as the others and said she wasn’t going to leave Harry’s side.

Even the twins left the place, and two other gingers with the bushy-haired girl, but y/N and Molly Weasley stayed behind.

A lot of things happened, and more than half of them, y/N did not follow. She was okay with not understand if it meant she could stay, but after the mourning of her third day in Hogwarts, Molly decided it was time for y/N to go back home. She couldn’t give worry to her parents any more than she already had.

It was Bill who took her back home with the flying car. He noticed how sad y/N looked — her eyes looking at every detail of the sight of Hogwarts and then her loud breaths as if she fought tears.

“What is it?” he asked, worried. “Is it Harry?”

She was caught by surprise. “Harry? No! He’s fine now, I saw that.”

Bill raised a brow when he side-looked at her for just a second before looking back at the sky ahead.

“I...” y/N sighed, discerning she would have to speak the truth. Something about the guy didn’t let her lie. “I will miss that school. It is so beautiful, and enchanting and... well, magical.”

Bill listened to her every word with a respectful silence.

“I’ll miss being around wizards and witches. You guys are so nice and so lucky! Do you even know it? Do you know how lucky you are because you can do magic? And God! No wonder Harry doesn’t wanna go back to my parents! After meeting your family, neither I want to go back,” y/N sighed, noticing she babbled. “I don’t want to go back to being a muggle,” she whispered, speaking with disgust the last word, and turned her face to the window.

Bill made a sound y/N wasn’t able to decipher, and he waited a while before speaking.

“I’m sorry if this is gonna sound offensive, but you are not going back to being muggle — you are a muggle. You were a muggle back at Hogwarts, you are back at home,” he said, trying hard to appear gentle. He was speaking the truth, but it still offended y/N, so she kept her eyes on the window.  “But — and believe me, I’m sure of this — you are, as well as Harry, always welcome at the Burrow.”

Y/N finally stared at him.

“Burrow, you know. My family’s place,” he added that extra information that she had already picked in the air. “Mum loved meeting you. And she wasn’t the only one.”

She kept staring at him, curious.

“Anytime you wanna have a meal with the fam, they’ll have you. You are an incredible girl, and I did not get to this thought all by myself,” he said.

“Thank you, Bill. For the invite and for the, well, help,” y/N pressed Bill’s arm gently, showing her gladness. “It’s good to know you guys like me.”

***

There was nobody home, or so, y/N thought. Bill left her in front of her house, and she walked out of the car empty-handed because before leaving y/N wasn’t planning on staying long at Hogwarts. The clothes she wore back then were Gryffindor uniforms given to her by cute little house-elves, as Fred and George explained.

She walked into an apparently deserted house, so she went directly to her room. She was not expecting to find her mom there, holding one of y/N’s pillows close, sitting in the bed with a sad look towards the mirror.

“Mum?” y/N didn’t feel confident enough to call her Petunia to her face.

The mom turned to see her daughter on the door, and she let go of the pillow.

“I do wish I had gone to the wizard’s school. I wish that every day,” her mom said, surprising y/N. She was not expecting to hear an answer to a question she asked long ago. “I want to be a witch since Lily found out she was one and I’m sorry I deprived you of being as well.”

Y/N gawked at her mom like she was seeing the woman for the first time, and she probably was.

“Mum, it’s not your fault I’m not a witch,” y/N finally said, sitting down next to the mother and hugging her tightly. “It’s not something to blame someone for. We are who we are, but we don’t have to be mean to others because we aren’t who we crave to be.”

Both Dursleys hugged each other for a couple of minutes, in silence. They were about to cry but never gave in — they hated crying.

“What counts is what we do to be closer to our goal. You have a wizard in your house, mum, and you’ve never shown interest in him,” she said when she pulled away from her mother’s embrace.

“It’s hard for me,” Petunia sighed. “You are young and kind, different from your father and me. If anything, you get it from Lily.”

Y/N tilted her head. That was another thing she wasn’t expecting to hear.

“You are curious when I’m not. You are great and destined for greatness,” Petunia said. “I love you, honey. I know I don’t say it often, but I do.”

“I love you too, mum.”

***

One hot day of July, when Harry was back at home, but wandering downtown and the rest of the family had gone fishing for the day, y/N had the house for herself. She tried to enjoy it, but her mind was somewhere else.

Every day was like that. She started thinking about Hogwarts, then her mind would shift to the Weasleys, and she would end her thought with the face of Fred Weasley.  She was going crazy. The Weasleys were barely talking to Harry — to y/N, they were practically strangers once again.

It was insane of her to think about Fred holding her hand, hugging her again, saying everything was going to be okay...

She generally had Harry to bring her back to senses and to the horror to have Voldemort walking around, but Harry wasn’t home that day. It was just y/N and her thoughts.

Until the knock on her front door; Y/N jumped from the couch and rushed to get it.

And to say she was surprised to see the person behind the door was saying the least.

“Fred?” do I have the power to summon people with my mind? Am I a witch?

“Hi, y/N. Sorry I came here suddenly,” y/N agreed, but she also didn’t mind. “It’s just... I can’t take you out of my mind.”

“Me? I’m a muggle!”

“So? That doesn’t stop you from being the most beautiful, kind and interesting girl I’ve ever seen!” It was like Fred was expecting her to be doubtful.

Fred didn’t need to say more. Y/N had learned a lesson about not enjoying the moment ahead of her, and she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

She threw her arms around his neck and practically jumped towards the ginger boy, pressing her lips hard on his. Fred was shocked, but when he understood what was happening, he wrapped his arms around her waist, making sure she was trapped in him, and Fred kissed her back, just like he had been dreaming of doing since the day he noticed her when was trying to hide behind a pillow in her living room.

They stayed like this, focused on each other for God knows how long before y/N finally push him away gently while gasping for air.

“I’ve been thinking about you too,” she whispered, looking up at his eyes as he smiled shyly.

“Can we do this more often?” Fred asked, going back to his normal-self and smirking flirtatiously.

“You know, there’s nobody home but me. It’s no Burrow but...” y/N was smirking too eagerly.

“Say no more,” Fred pulled her close again, playing with a lock of her hair with just one hand.

They kissed again, and this time, y/N was going to make sure they were going to do it forever.