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taesspark · 3 years ago

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A Normal Friday Afternoon

drabble #1 from the Spellbound series

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: enemies to lovers (but mostly enemies so far oops), hogwarts au

word count: 2.2k

warnings: violence (oc punches jungkook in the face), swearing

It’s a normal Friday afternoon at Hogwarts, meaning everyone is going insane. You wonder why Professor Snape even bothers teaching Potions right now since it doesn’t look like anyone is paying the slightest bit of attention. He even chose a hard potion for the class to make, individually this time. As if making it an individual assignment could stop a group of annoying 17-year-olds from wreaking havoc.

You flicker your eyes in annoyance at Jeon Jungkook and his rowdy group of friends. They had created a game where they launch the ingredients into each others’ cauldrons, giving each other points based on how close it got. Usually you try to get along with your classmates, especially fellow Gryffindors, but Jungkook has always been the sole exception. There’s something about him that grates all of your nerves like a carrot. Maybe it’s the way he’s good at all the same things you are, but he makes it seem more effortless. Maybe it’s the way everyone thinks he’s so innocent and kind, when he’s been metaphorically (and literally) pulling on your hair since first year.

It started with the little things. You were friendly to him, like you are to everyone, and as an 11-year-old, you had nothing to complain about. Something changed one day when you were walking past him in the hallway to class and he hit you with a hex that he hadn’t mastered yet. You remember falling to the ground in pain, watching your stinging flesh go boneless. And Jungkook? He was laughing.

You’re no less of a witch or a Gryffindor though. With your limp arm, you cast the strongest dancing hex you could muster. It worked, of course, and Jungkook was known as “Happy Feet” for at least another year for the way he danced around Hogwarts that day.

It’s a memory you keep close, as a reminder to never trust the sweet smile and starry eyes of Jeon Jungkook.

If you looked at all of the detentions you’ve served in your 6 years of being a Hogwarts student (and there are plenty), you’re sure 99% would have been from fighting with Jungkook, whether it’s yelling at him, cursing him, or swatting him with your broomstick in midair during Quidditch practice. Because of course he would join the Quidditch team at the same time you did.

You’re not in the mood for fighting today, though. You’re exhausted from a frankly awful week, and you just want to finish your stupid potion, get your stupid grade, and go to your stupid dorm so you can sleep.

Your only good friend in this potions class is a Ravenclaw girl named Nina. For a Ravenclaw, she’s chatty, and she flits around you while you grind up asphodel root for your potion. With a quick slide of your knife, you dump the crushed root into your potion. It bubbled. Beside you, Nina bubbled even more, her personality like soda that had been shaken too hard.

“-and then Emilia told me that she asked Irene if she would go with her to Hogsmeade next weekend, but Irene said she’s already going with Jieun, but Sam told me that Jieun is going alone, so what’s even the truth? You’d think that she’d at least-”

“Maybe you should mind your business.” You give her a sour look, and you hope it isn’t too harsh. “Just a thought.”

Nina’s mouth curls into a rueful smile. “You’re spending too much time with Yoongi lately.”

You crack a smile at the thought of your best friend and his (only partly true) reputation. No one dares cross Min Yoongi, a 7th year Slytherin with a killer poker face. As one of his best friends, you can see right through it.

“There’s no such thing as too much time with Yoongi,” you grumble.

Nina leaves you alone after that, thank god. You usually have a higher tolerance for her chattiness and gossip, but today your patience is running thin. Luckily, she knows you well enough to not seem upset at your attitude.

You sprinkle a serum into the potion before stirring it clockwise ten times. It’s the last step of the potion, and yours is already turning the perfect shade of mint green. You count to yourself as you stir: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

You don’t make it to ten. You were so goddamn close.

“Oh, shit-”

You don’t register who curses. All you can see is a bottle of serum—someone else’s bottle of serum— being launched straight into your cauldron, and your entire potion splattering onto your front. Your robes sizzle where the potion hit them.

“Oops.”

You recognize that voice. How could you not? You almost want to laugh.

Fucking Jeon Jungkook.

The leech lumbers up to you sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. “My bad. We were playing a game, and I missed pretty bad.”

He chuckles a little, surveying the green ooze all over you. “Green is your color, Y/N. Maybe they should’ve put you in Slytherin.”

You’re seething.

A temper is not one of the traits associated with Gryffindor, but at that moment, you think maybe it should be. Lions do roar, after all.

And roar is exactly what you do. Roar and knock Jungkook the fuck out.

The room is in chaos: Professor Snape is yelling, Nina is telling you to calm down, Jungkook is on the ground in front of you, more shocked than hurt, and half the class is chanting “Fight!” because the adolescent urge to create violence never truly dies.

“Take this outside!” Snape shouts at the two of you, grabbing you both by the collar of your robes. “Fight in the hallways, I don’t care, but this is not going to happen in my classroom. When you’re done, head to McGonagall’s office. I’m sure she’d like to have a word with you two delinquents.”

Jungkook stares at you, rubbing at the bruise blooming on his cheek.

The door swings closed, slamming in your face. With a huff, you turn around and vanish the potion residue still left on your clothes with a quick spell. You barely spare a glance for Jungkook. He stands several feet away, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“Do you have something to say?” You snap.

He opens his mouth. Then closes it.

You roll your eyes. “Listen, Jeon. I know you did that on purpose. Very funny prank, absolutely hilarious. Truly, I’m rolling on the floor laughing right now.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to the floor as if he expected to see you there, laughing.

“Let’s just go to McGonagall’s already,” you say, posture slumping at the thought of being yelled at by the intimidating professor.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says. Jungkook rolls his shoulders, and you see him gain some of his usual bravado. “We were playing a game, I already explained this to you.”

You bark out a laugh, just one. “I’m not stupid.”

He cocks a brow. “Are you sure? I bet my potion was better than yours even though I was dicking around for the entire class.”

“Fuck off.”

“Hit a nerve?”

“No.”

It’s like this, for the long, long, long trek from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower where McGonagall’s office is.

“You know, you don’t have to be such an asshole all the time,” you say, turning the corner. Jungkook jogs after you to keep up.

“I don’t? No way, all this time I thought it was mandatory.”

He sounds more upset than snarky, and in your present state of blind rage, you don’t have a single clue why he would be upset. He’s the one who ruined your potion and got you sent to McGonagall’s office. He’s the one who has been a splinter the size of Greenland in your thumb for five years and counting.

“Besides,” he adds, as if you wanted to have a conversation with him, “you’re the one who fucking punched me in the face. It’s kinda hypocritical to call me an asshole in this situation.”

“That’s a really big word, Jungkook. Did you finally learn how to read?”

Jungkook’s face crumples into a frown. “Shut up.”

“Hit a nerve?” You mock.

You think getting to McGonagall’s office is a relief until you’re finally there. McGonagall is all but screeching at the two of you. You’ve heard the same lecture several hundred times, but never in such a high pitch. You offer to make her some herbal tea for her throat, and she only gives you the evil eye. Jungkook snorts beside you. You ignore him, nudging him in the ribs with your elbow.

“Never in my days…”

“...Such stupidity from my own students!”

You fade in and out of consciousness during the lecture, and one look at Jungkook tells you he’s doing the same.

“Detention for both of you. I will see the two of you here at 9 pm sharp every day for the rest of the week,” McGonagall finally says.

Jungkook groans.

“I’m being generous,” McGonagall says. “If I see the two of you acting like violent animals again, I can and will suspend you both from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

You and Jungkook both make sounds of protest, only to be drowned out by McGonagall.

“I hate to see my own team lose, but it has been five years of your childish fights. You two will learn to be civil to each other, and I will make sure of it.”

The tone of her voice makes you uneasy. Jungkook beats you to the question that’s on both of your minds. “What are you going to do to us?”

The fear in his voice would make you smile if you weren’t practically shaking in your boots yourself.

“As you know, in Transfiguration, I am going to be having everyone work in teams this year. I was going to let you choose your partners, but you two have not earned that privilege.”

You turn to face Jungkook. He’s staring back at you in wide-eyed horror.

“You both are now partners in Transfiguration. Sit by each other and complete the projects together. I will not tolerate any misbehaving in my class, and if you don’t work as a team, you will be risking your own grades.” McGonagall stares at the two of you with the smallest of smiles, disgustingly smug. She’s enjoying this, and you hate her for it.

“But-”

“Professor!”

“I won’t hear it!” She shouts. Jungkook recoils. “This is final. If you have a problem, you should’ve thought about that before brawling like wrestlers in Potions.”

You hang your head, staring at how the end of your robes skims your shoes. You don’t like to be dramatic, but this sure feels like the end of the world. The rest of your year is probably ruined, thanks to McGonagall essentially sentencing you to Jungkook duty. Not to mention Transfiguration is your hardest class, even without having to compete with Jungkook. You don’t doubt that this would make everything so much harder.

“That’s all I have to say to you. Please leave,” McGonagall says, pressing a thumb and index finger into her forehead.

The two of you file out of her office, stumbling down the empty hallway. You walk in silence, thankful that classes aren’t out yet. You stop a few corridors down, and Jungkook stops next to you.

You look at him, really look at him. Other than the bruise on his face a la you, he has a sweet face and kind eyes. You remind yourself that it’s fake.

You take a step closer to him, and he tilts his head at you, nonplussed.

“Y/N?”

You brush a hand on his cheekbone, where you hit him.

“Does it hurt?” You ask.

The hallway is empty, but Jungkook still looks both ways before responding to you, as if you were a car hurtling towards him on the street. He gulps at your proximity to him, how he can feel your breath mingling with his own and your fingertips’ gentle pressure on his face.

“A little,” he says, quieter than you. “You really know how to use your fists, huh?”

He laughs. To your ears, it sounds forced. You smile. Checkmate.

Without warning, you grab his tie and jerk his face down to yours, leaving just a breath of space between your noses. You lean even closer to Jungkook, and a smile ghosts your lips when you feel him moving closer to you at the same time. You wait for one more moment, letting your warm breath hit his skin. The moment he closes his eyes, you whisper, “Good.”

His eyes flutter back open, confused, and you take your foot and slam it down on his. He all but howls in pain, nearly knocking his head into yours as he hops away.

"What was that for?"

"If you still don't know, then maybe I need to step on you again." You narrow your eyes at him, still close enough to register the clean linen smell of his clothes. “Do not cross me again. I need a good grade in Transfiguration this year, and I won’t let you ruin that for me.”

"McGonagall is right there. I could go tell her," he threatens. His eyes are wide, and you pick up on the slightest fear under his façade of arrogance.

"Okay, do it. See if I care, asshole."

You spin on your heel and storm down the corridor, leaving a stunned Jungkook in your wake.

#bts fanfiction #bts au #bts drabble #bts writing #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #Jungkook Fanfiction #jungkook #jungkook x reader #spellbound #bts hogwarts au #bts fic

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years ago

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"you were missed, you know.” the voice is light, balancing on the edge of airy like a coin on its rim, in a way only careful practice yielded. so jason whirls around, faster than he normally would in a neatly-pressed suit and loose dress shoes.

there’s a woman, close cropped red hair swinging into her face and pulling at the corners of her mouth until her expression is as severe as her form. there’s a scar on her jaw and, oh, the memory tumbles into his head as if pushed. kate kane, proof that vigilantism is genetic, once tugged jason into into her side and pulled him away from a particularly leering investor at function. the bite of her nails on his skin was a thousand times sweeter than the man’s smile.

she smirks. “hi.”

“haven’t seen you in a while,” jason responds, attempting casual and instead tripping, falling into his crime lord persona, since he doesn’t know how else to interact with people when he’s jason peter todd-wayne.

“not since you died,” kate remarks and damn, right for the gullet. “you’ve grown up.”

jason shrugs, suddenly feeling thirteen years old again, suddenly feeling all of four feet, eight inches in the face of her candidness. “time’s funny like that.”

she eyes him carefully, trying to fish for the truth in what she believes is a lie wrapped in a careful quip. jason doesn’t blame her: he’s cultivated quite a reputation for himself. but he stripped the sarcasm from his words before he spoke them, and their rawness is shrouded in the bubbling champagne and crystal chandelier around them, but it’s no less present for anyone who knows how to peel the veil back.

“you were missed,” she repeats, satisfied with his answer. “not sure anyone’s told you that since you’ve come back. your family’s a stubborn bunch. i just wanted to make sure.”

“make sure i knew i was missed?” jason clarifies, feeling a little foolish, because dick wouldn’t beg to save his life but there were a few times that his words came close to pleas, and tim had made it clear how much he’d upheld the pedestal he’d put jason on, and alfred had actually told him that to his face.

but this was the first time he found himself truly believing those familiar words. he hadn’t known kate, not at all. and yet, she nodded, clapped him on the shoulder once, twice, then left, completely unaware of the pit of resentment she’d carved out of jason’s stomach and thrown on the ground until jason felt like he’d slip on it if he moved, if he breathed.

she didn’t look back, but jason’s eyes didn’t stop following her until she was out of sight.

"you were missed, you know.” jason doesn’t startle, his training is etched into every scar decorating his skin, and there are times that he grips and holds onto those scars like a lifeline. he’s far too practiced to flinch, but he’d be lying to himself if his heart didn’t skip a beat.

he forgave himself in the next second, though. cassandra cain could make men much more experienced than him recoil. she appeared soundlessly, and folded down beside him with a grace that jason hadn’t seen anywhere outside his family. the amount of space she left between them, the relaxed posture that left visible tension cording through her arms like pulling steel taffy, the tilt to her body that made jason automatically want to open his mouth and let his tumultuous thoughts come out as an oil spill: right now, cass had dick grayson’s brushtrokes all over her.

“dick put you up to this?”

cass shook her head, then bit her lip in a considering movement. jason wondered if he’d practiced, because bruce had long since broken that dangerous habit out of his children.

“i am still working on comfort. assurance,” she said, rifling through the words like flash cards, picking the most accurate ones. “i thought i’d practice.”

“oh? and why exactly do you think i need comfort.”

“i overheard your argument,” she admitted, “with bruce.”

“i didn’t think anyone was there.”

“i didn’t mean to,” she said. “sorry. but i heard what you said.”

jason scoffed. “prove me wrong. one step forward, two steps back with that dense motherfucker.”

“sign of protection,” cass said. “not distrust.”

out of everyone to say that to him, cass was probably the least likely. jason had thought she, of all people, would be on his side after he found the microchip in his helmet. she, of all people, would value independence after being owned for so long.

“by the time he found you, you were dead. and he missed you more than anything. he will never let that happen again.”

“oh yeah? privacy mean nothing to him? i know he’s crazy about this stuff but come on. there’s a limit.”

“you are not relying on him because of this.” cass stood up, stretching her back, though jason was sure she really didn’t have to. “he is relying on you. let him.”

“you were missed, you know.”

“what, speaking from personal experience? i ain’t you, west.” jason could feel the gentle thrum of electricity behind him, making his hair stand on edge. two steps backward, and he’d be pulled into that void, that black hole of energy, that swirling vortex of pure power condensed into something human-shaped.

except he wouldn’t. it was just wally. just dick’s best friend joining him outside on the balcony. jason didn’t know how dick and tim could stand to be around speedsters willingly, for fun.

“i mean, sort of,” wally shrugged. “but me and you had very different experiences.”

“yeah, west, i’m not sure who else has been stuck in the fucking speedforce.”

wally snorted, an if only you knew hidden in plain sight. jason decided he really didn’t want to know. “i mean there’s that,” the speedster concedes, “but also, everyone forgot i existed. that didn’t happen with you.”

“you sure about that?”

“hey,” wally eyed him, his eyes suddenly sharp. “don’t start that shit. i was erased from the memories of everyone i loved. you did nothing but stay in the memories of your family.”

“now i know we’re talking about two different things.”

“jason,” wally sighed, and the sheer exasperation pouring off him made jason want curl his fingers, bring them up for a swing, taste the bite of pain that would prick at his knuckles, nevermind the fact that wally would dodge anyway. “don’t do that.”

he turned to face the speedster, arms crossed deliberately over his chest. “where the hell do you get off acting like dick?”

“you’re more like dick than you realize,” wally said, “and i spent half my childhood dealing with his moods. actually, i still do.”

“do you have a point?” jason snapped, starting to get irritated. he wasn’t sure why. he’d spent his entire life one one end of a scale, dick grayson on the other. he’d always tipped his end down. this was the first time someone was telling him the scale was even.

“just because your family didn’t mourn the way you wanted them to,” wally said, “doesn’t mean they didn’t mourn you.”

“fuck you.”

“they loved you. and they missed you,” wally continues, steamrolling right over jason in a way most speedsters were prone to do. “there’s no minimum requirement for loss. no ‘if you didn’t do this, then you didn’t grieve me.’ that’s not even a situation, ever.”

“so that makes everything bruce did okay?” jason sputtered

“not at all. god knows i disagree with bruce on more things than i tolerate. but this is one thing you can’t fault him on.”

it wasn’t that easy, though. jason wanted to scream it at wally’s face, it wasn’t that easy. it wasn’t about whether bruce loved him enough,,,,except maybe it was. jason wanted bruce to have loved him enough to make a difference in gotham. jason wanted bruce to have missed him enough to change things, because change meant that bruce had been so hurt by his death that he refused to let it happen to anyone else again.

bruce had made a vow after his parents died. the fifteen year old inside jason was begging bruce why he hadn’t been afforded the same devotion. jason was his son.

“just something to think about,” wally said, then stepped backward, making to go inside where dick was calling him. “you were afforded the luxury of coming back with a place left empty in your family for you. you didn’t have to make it, like i did.”

“being dead, then coming back wrong isn’t a fucking luxury,” jason snarled.

with a shrug, wally turned, a little faster than the average human, lightning sparking at his heels as he left jason alone on the balcony. “depends on your definition of wrong.”

jason get therapy. please. also happy deathday

honestly i couldn’t decide whose side of the argument i was on, jason’s or wally’s.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

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Affection

Characters: Albedo, Beidou, Keqing, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,705

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: More “new” characters! I’ve been neglecting Keqing and Beidou, they deserve some love. I hope as always their characterizations live up to expectations! This was very fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it!

I couldn’t tell whether to make this melancholy or fluffy, so I guess I half-and-half-ed it. Best of both worlds, right? Although the tone feels definitely lighter.

Albedo

Your friends never could figure out why you were flirting with Albedo.

“That alchemist has nothing on his mind but work,” one of them once told you, “he’ll never reciprocate your feelings you know.”

“I know.” You’d replied, smiling the sort of smile people put on when they’re trying to show they’re not annoyed. “I know he doesn’t like me in that way, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I want to.” You’d shrugged, shifting the conversation to some other topic. In all honesty, it wasn’t as if your friend was lying. But neither were you, not really. There wasn’t any good explanation for why you were flirting with Albedo after all. You knew that he’d never take it seriously, knew you weren’t good enough for it anyways. Maybe that’s why you flirted with him. Maybe it was better to make the slightest fool of yourself than drive yourself mad thinking about something that could never be.

So you continued on your merry, if slightly self-destructive way. Every time you saw Albedo, which was quite a bit considering the fact you were often posted around Dragonspine and spent a lot of your free time in the square right outside his office, you ran his way, asking him what he was doing, or telling him about your own day. You’d developed this habit of leaning in a bit whenever he spoke to you, and the slight pause he gave as his smile grew wider whenever you did made your heart soar.

Not that you ever started thinking there was ever a chance. I mean, come on. Albedo was Albedo and you were you. There was a great deal of distance between the two of you, as if you were standing on opposite sides of a bridge which was liable to fall at any moment. You could shout across at each other, but never did you attempt to walk over to him, knowing it’d surely result in disaster.

Still, why did you flirt with Albedo? The question sort of haunted you at times. You enjoyed his company, you’d even told him you enjoyed his company. He’d smiled his sedate smile, pausing for a moment to look away from the painting he was working on. “I enjoy your company too.” He’d said, before turning back to his work. It was a quiet, calm, even sort of response, just the sort you’d expected. And yet you kept going, and though you made no attempt to push the boundaries or go any farther, you still wondered at times what the point of it was.

Perhaps following that line of thought was a bit dangerous. You found the more you asked yourself what you expected out of your closeness with Albedo, the more absent you seemed to be. It wasn’t as if you were trying to avoid him or anything, no quite the contrary. It was only that you tended to want to be alone when you were thinking about something like this. Reaching out was hard, especially to the person who you were thinking about.

“Are you alright?” You glanced up from the lunch you were pondering over to see Albedo leaning over you. Feeling your cheeks redden you jumped slightly.

“Albedo! Oh I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying any attention to my surroundings! Sit down!” You gestured vaguely to the spot on the bench next to you. Albedo smiled politely, sitting down as directed. He seemed to sober however once he was sitting, scanning your face for something, though you weren’t sure what that something was.

“You seem… absent recently, I was wondering if something was the matter.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly fine!” You shook your hands out in front of you. “I guess I’ve just been sort of busy recently, or maybe a little tired I guess. You know that the festival is coming up, right? Well Acting Grand Master Jean is really running us ragged! But I promise I’ll be back to normal soon!” You laughed awkwardly; it wasn’t as if you weren’t telling the truth per se, just… not the whole truth. But you’d rather not put all your troubles on Albedo, not when he was reaching out to see if you were okay. Smiling once more you attempted to switch topics. “How’s your research? Have you found something new while I’ve been gone?”

“Yes, I’ve begun to study the reaction between macrophage and eukaryotic cells in contrast with prokaryotic cells, and how adding elemental effects to reactions either speeds up or slows down the reaction. But I’m glad to hear you’re alright,” Albedo seemed to relax a bit, leaning backwards slightly on the bench, “everything has been much quieter with you gone. It’s unnatural, I can’t focus as well. I keep finding myself distracted by little things. I look forward to participating in our conversations once more.”

“Well I’ll be there soon!” You promised, heart fluttering slightly. Did he really mean that? I mean sure, it didn’t mean anything more than what was on the tin. Your situation hadn’t changed that much. Still, it meant something to you that Albedo wasn’t just tolerating your presence, that he was actually somewhat involved in your friendship. “I promise I’ll have some very interesting topics of conversation when I come back.”

“Good.” Albedo nodded once more before smiling slightly sheepishly. “My workspace is currently going through a cleaning and the lab isn’t supposed to let any foreign substances in in; would you mind terribly if I ate with you?”

“Not at all!” You responded. “I love spending my free time with you. What have you brought?”

Why did you flirt with Albedo? Why did you seek out his presence despite you and everyone around you knowing full well that it was never going to come to anything? What did you even think of Albedo? Well you could answer that last one at least. You loved him. You loved him very much. And even if he didn’t reciprocate the way you did, even if your friends told you it was pointless and your mind chastised you for putting yourself through the ringer, even if all that was true, you weren’t going to stop. Because you were Albedo’s friend and he was yours. And for now that was enough.

Even if a part of you continued to hope that one day this would change.

Beidou

Beidou was utterly out of your league and you knew it.

It wasn’t exactly a difficult conclusion to come to after all. Brash, outspoken, good with a sword, Beidou embodied that sort of restless, self-reliant spirit you wish you yourself could emanate.

It didn’t hurt that Beidou had essentially rescued you from destitution, having found you languishing in a corner of one of the seedier docks of Liyue, and having taken you in quickly after the fact. You owed her a great deal, and was glad to do so. After all you’d fallen hopelessly in love with Beidou.

Life aboard a slightly illegal ship was bound to be an intimate one. Everyone knew everything about everyone else, and it was very difficult to find someone that hadn’t heard about your crush. Someone who wasn’t Beidou, that was. Although it wasn’t like you attempted to hide it; you just never brought it out in the open. And who could blame you? How could anyone who’d nearly died of starvation waiting for some sort of divine help compare to the bravest captain you’d ever met?

So you two settled into a routine of sorts, at least in your mind. You ate every meal as close to her as possible, something which had been difficult at first but as the “secret” spread around became almost comically easy, you discussed your plans with her first, gave her various trinkets you’d found in your travels, asked her opinions about your weapon then asked her to train with you. The training sessions had almost killed your resolve not to tell her, nothing was so intimate as having someone constantly checking your posture, moving and arm here a leg there, closely monitoring how you moved and acted.

All the while you said nothing. It felt selfish after all to even think about it. Beidou had many a time told her crew that they were one big family. On top of the obviously platonic motives behind her love for you, you weren’t about to impose on the crew by trying to take the spot as favorite or partner. It’d make you feel sleazy.

But damn if sometimes your resolve wasn’t tempted. It was the night after a particularly successful raid, and everyone was drunk out of their minds. Even you were tipsy, although compared to the rest you were positively sober. Sitting next to Beidou, who was walking up and down the tables making speeches of various levels of comprehensibility, you thanked the archons above that this woman had saved you. It was all worth the pain and suffering, if only to see her smile, which was blinding at the moment.

“You were brave, my dear compatriots! Distinguished! Honored! Positively courageous!” Beidou let out a slight “hic”, her vocabulary always did turn a bit grand when she drank too much. “Indeed, I’m sure not even the greatest of emperors had an army which could rival the visage of our band of brothers! Storming the deck, why we all might’ve perished! Damned visions, they’re for cheaters! For fraudsters! You all fight without them, and in doing so you prove yourself far more valiant, far more exemplary than they do!” Evidently Beidou had forgotten she herself was a vision wielder. Then again, so had everyone else.

“On this night of victory, of perilous and prestigious triumph, I wish to congratulate the greatest of warriors! This! My proverbial right hand man, the distinguished…” Beidou turned around towards you, gesturing in a very flamboyant sort of manner. You stood there, shocked by the sudden attention, blushing deeply, brain so filled with awe that you only half realized Beidou couldn’t remember your name.

“Yes! This person, this noble scalawag!” Beidou lifted you up so you were standing next to her, archons was she strong. “Now I don’t believe in laws, but if I did I’d marry them I would! You all ought to be more like them, mark my words I want to see some shaping up! There are no levels on this ship, but if there were they’d be higher than you all! Pay attention to my words, they are final!” And with that, speech apparently over, Beidou planted a soft, if slightly messy, kiss on your cheek.

If it weren’t for the people around you, you might’ve fainted.

The next day announced itself with a headache, though as the least hungover of the group you were put in charge of dishing out the medicine and water. The whole ship appeared to be groaning, and though the crew was usually quite active and excited at almost any hour of the day, you could tell that most of the men and women just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep.

“Captain wants to see you when you’re done with your rounds.” There were a few other people helping you out, and the one that informed you about this raised an eyebrow as you promptly turned white as a sheet, before a splotchy shade of red covered your face. What was she going to say? Had she remembered what had happened the night before? You admitted to yourself that maybe banking on Beidou forgetting was a doomed cause from the start. Beidou was perhaps brash and a lover of alcohol, but her memory was sharp, and she somehow managed to never drink herself to total incompetence. If you challenged a drunk Beidou to a duel your chances were going to be about the same as if you’d challenged her sober. Hell maybe they’d be even worse. With that grim thought in mind you distributed the last of the medicine, wiping your hands needlessly on your clothes before walking towards the captain’s cabins.

You loved Beidou’s cabins, they somehow seemed both incredibly grand and inexplicably homey. With furniture made out of a plush and luxurious red sort of material, it was nonetheless crowded by knickknacks; drawings, carvings, and other such paraphernalia littered the shelves and the dressers. Beidou had once told you almost all of it was from current or former shipmates. The luxuries they stole had no use in her home.

“Captain Beidou?” You ventured. The captain was at her desk, scribbling out something, probably a plan. She loved to plan in her free time, whether or not the plan was something doable or a total fantasy. Now she looked up, setting her pen down and smiling her classic, cocky grin.

“Ah, my favorite shipmate. How’re we feeling today?”

“W-well!” You managed to get out, a bit distracted by the nickname. Ah, it seemed she had remembered at least part of it. “Um, captain, I was told you wanted to see me.”

“Yes, I did. I’ve been thinking since last night, thinking a great deal, and I was wondering, what would you think to becoming my partner, in a, well, romantic sort of sense.”

“So suddenly?” You replied, eyes widening but nevertheless cracking a smile. Beidou’s confession had been blunt, devoid of all the usual flourishes. And yet it was what you wanted, what you’d always wanted.

“Well why not?” Beidou shrugged nonchalantly. “After all considering how you’ve been acting towards me for the past few months, I figured why not become my partner. Unless I’ve been reading you wrong of course.”

“No!” You exclaimed. “I mean yes, I mean, well yes to the first and no to the second. I’d love to become your partner, and you haven’t been reading me wrong.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “I just figured I wasn’t good enough. I mean you’re… you. And besides, you said we were all a family. I figured you wouldn’t want me as a partner.”

Beidou raised her eyebrow slightly as her smile melted into a smirk. Shaking her head slightly she approached you, raising your gaze every so slightly. “Well I can tell you right now I’m not too good for you. Not only are you good with a weapon, but you’re about as tough and fearless as they come. I don’t want to hear about how you’re secretly scared or whatnot. Everyone is that doesn’t matter. But you fight well and without second thought. And I admire that. And as for the speech about family, well a romantic partner is family of some kind. Besides the crew won’t mind, they’ve been talking about it for ages.”

“I guess they have.” You blushed; apparently Beidou hadn’t been as uninformed as you thought.

“Any last words before you’re my partner?” Beidou’s smile was as wide as you’d ever seen it and just as infectious; you grinned back.

“I love you.”

“Good. Now,” Beidou smiled, planting a soft kiss on your cheek and then a peck on your lips – something which left you grasping for coherent thought “let’s tell the others.”

Keqing

Working with Keqing was an experience akin to slowly dying inside.

You’d become somewhat enamored with the Yuheng of the Liyue Qixing ever since you’d first met her. Her brusque and honest manner was refreshing, and when listening to her talk about the archons, about Liyue, about how the past and the present tied together, you never really seemed to question her. She always gave off the impression of intelligence, and, unlike some others you’d met, she had the brains to back it up. And what could you say? Before you knew it you had a crush on her.

Yet working with her showed other sides of Keqing too. She was very self-conscious when it came to compliments. Not that she minded them per se, as one time you’d asked her if your constant praise was a bother. “I just never know how to respond.” She’d admitted, and to be fair you understood that. But as long as she told you she liked them you’d compliment her.

Of course you knew it could never go beyond that. Keqing was your coworker; she was your superior in almost every way, both in occupation and in character. She never lost her cool or found herself off guard when fighting treasure hoarders or when dealing with rowdy citizens. She was efficient, capable, and aware of her incredible abilities. And she didn’t feel the need for a partner, something she had told you every time someone else worked up the courage to ask her out. You couldn’t bring yourself to impose on her like they did, not when you knew what her answer would be.

It was a slightly disheartening existence, and indeed sometimes you wondered what the point of it was, wondered if you shouldn’t just quit. But that wouldn’t be fair, not to Liyue, and not to Keqing herself. She relied upon the other members of the Liyue Qixing to work efficiently and without sudden disruption. And the sudden quitting of someone who was hardly at the bottom of the ranks would’ve certainly done just that.

Besides, Keqing was first and foremost your friend. It was a bit of a fragile friendship, yes, but it was friendship nonetheless; and you valued that friendship well above your own infatuation. If you had to bottle your feelings up so be it. You owed it to Keqing to keep it together, to not impose on her what she obviously didn’t want and to not punish her for it by drawing away. So it hurt, so what? A lot of things hurt, doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing or experiencing. And this was certainly one of those things.

It was late evening, and most of the cubicles were dark. You sat, writing the last few sentences of a report, trying to ignore the headache that had been developing since earlier that day. A friend had attempted to set you up on a blind lunch date, and though you appreciated their motive the whole thing had been a chore, and now you were late on your work.

“Almost done?” Keqing’s voice broke through your mental grumblings. Looking up at her you nodded, and Keqing smiled in satisfaction. “Good. Can’t have one of our best workers getting sick on account of working too hard.”

“I won’t get sick.” You assured her. Finally stamping the paper you let out a sigh leaning back in your chair.

“A difficult day?”

“You could say that,” you admitted, “a friend went on a slightly appreciated but incredibly unnecessary mission to get me to go out on a date. Honestly, I’d rather her just treat me to lunch.”

“I can understand the feeling.” Keqing frowned in sympathy. “People are too obsessed with the idea of romance, so much so it blinds them. There are more important things in this world.”

“I’d say most people consider love pretty important.” You commented. Keqing shook her head in response.

“Perhaps, but aren’t ideals better than individual wishes? Romance may be fun, perhaps, but there are other things to consider. Besides, I find your company far more enjoyable than I would any date.”

“You do?” You responded, heart fluttering slightly; you hoped Keqing didn’t notice the blush spreading across the bridge of your nose and coloring your cheeks. Luckily it was slightly dark in the office.

“Oh certainly,” Keqing waved her hand dismissively, “you’re the best coworker and friend I’ve ever had. No significant other could give me advice like you do, or help me so much when I’m struggling with work or with my thoughts, and dates are so formal and boring and awkward compared to spending an afternoon with you. Really I’m perfectly content relationship wise with our friendship. Relationships are full of pitfalls, people keeping this little thing from their partner, or omitting that little act. No, better to have an open and supportive friendship like we do.”

“I’m glad you think so.” You replied, and really you did. You’d known since day one that a romantic relationship was off the table. So if you could stay by Keqing’s side and support her, if only a little longer, then you’d be perfectly content.

Even if a part of you still wished that things could’ve been different.

Zhongli

To be fair to Zhongli you weren’t sure how much he understood of any type of human relationship. The fact that the Geo Archon had befriended you in the first place was an achievement in itself.

And yet he had befriended you, and soon you’d found yourself falling in love with the slightly aloof, slightly out of touch geo archon. Zhongli was much more than that of course. Surprisingly open, the ex-deity took to finding out information about humanity with zeal. Always eager to ask you questions and to hear about how your day had gone or how you felt after something particularly happy or sad or gratifying, Zhongli had morphed into a pseudo confidante for you. Someone you found yourself relying on more and more. His gentle nature didn’t hurt either, or his looks for that matter; all in all Zhongli seemed like the perfect sort of person, and though you knew that you’d never be able to measure up to an archon, you found yourself unable to suppress the overwhelming love you felt for him.

Zhongli didn’t seem to mind your openness at all, indeed he sort of relished it, or at least he seemed to. Every time you reached out to grab his hand he gladly slipped it into yours, and whenever you ran up and hugged him after a long period of not seeing one another he always hugged you back. He’d eat lunches with you, and sometimes dinners, and sometimes weekends were spent running around Liyue, or at home listening to one another’s stories or reading one another’s books. It’s truly a magical sort of feeling to share a book with someone. But then again with Zhongli everything seemed magical.

Of course affection aside the whole matter never crossed the line of friendship. You never told him of your affections, and in return Zhongli never initiated anything further than conversation. Not that it bothered you; you felt there was a bit of a gap between you and Zhongli. After all surely it was idealization which caused you to recognize that someone like Rex Lapis had no want or inclination towards engaging in a relationship with a mere mortal. Facts are facts, and there’s no changing them, no matter how much you wanted to.

And yet how odd fate is.

“What is being in love like?”

You looked up at Zhongli, trying desperately to act as if you hadn’t felt your heart rate spike to unhealthy levels.

“Uhm… what do you mean what is love like?”

“I’ve noticed mortals are very enamored with love. I have to admit, my experience with romance is minimal; archons and adepti seldom see romance as something that affects them. But I want to know, as a human, what is love like to you?” There was no mockery or sense of superiority in Zhongli’s face. Not that you expected there to be. Zhongli never looked down upon humans as unequal. Many times he’d told you he admired them. Taking a breath you thought of your answer.

“Well… hmm. Love is very different for everyone. To some love is like an inferno; it’s very sudden and very intense. It sort of burns them up, it’s all they think about. I think that’s less love, more infatuation, but to some that is indeed love. To others love is sort of… staid. It’s being able to rely on them, to talk to them about anything and everything without feeling embarrassed or like you have to put on some sort of show. It’s knowing that there’s someone who will always side with you or help you realize what’s right, or be there when you feel terrible. To them love isn’t passionate, it’s comforting.”

“And to you?” Zhongli interrupted, a look of thoughtfulness on his face.

“Well to me it’s somewhere in the middle, I suppose to most people it’s somewhere in the middle. And this is only romantic love after all. Love is so big, so all encompassing, I think it’s hard to pin down. But to me romantic love is both; it is the passion that causes people to do crazy things and espouse crazy sorts of ideals, and it is the staid comfort of knowing there is someone who will always understand you, and always support you in that understanding.” You paused, realizing you’d been prattling on a bit. “Why, may I ask? Is there a reason you want to know.”

“Yes,” Zhongli admitted, voice slightly less calm than usual. “I, I’ve been thinking about my feelings towards someone a great deal recently; they’ve been alien, although not distressing per se. They feel as if I’m always on some sort of edge, but I don’t feel upset by it. Instead I want to approach it, want to be around the person who makes me feel that way. I wanted to understand that emotion more. I wondered if it was love. Thank you for answering my question, it was most enlightening.”

“That person must be very lucky.” You replied, keeping your tone as light as possible, trying to ignore your emotions, which had risen and dropped so very quickly. “I suppose I’ll have to lay off on the affection now. Part of love is sometimes being a little bit jealous, at least in the beginning, at least for some people. It’s silly, really, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.” Zhongli’s tone was surprisingly wry, as if there was a joke somewhere you’d missed.

“Why?” You asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“Because the person whom I was enquiring about is you.”

Honestly you would’ve been less surprised if Zhongli had told you that he was going to run away from Liyue and join the circus. All you could manage to sputter out was: “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Zhongli chuckled slightly. He raised his hand, gloved fingers ghosting your cheek as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I’ve suspected it for some time, but I wanted to be sure. Are you alright with me telling you this?”

Alright? You were over the moon! Had you ever been this happy before? You weren’t sure, but you were happy now.

“Of course it’s alright. Zhongli, I’ve liked you for months now.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Zhongli tilted his head slightly in confusion. You stared down at your hands, slightly embarrassed.

“I thought I wasn’t good enough for you. I mean you’re an archon and I’m a mortal. I’m hardly different from the other people of Liyue, and I just, I don’t know, I was scared of rejection, I was scared you’d think I was overstepping and that our friendship would crumble. And I didn’t think I could stand that.”

At first Zhongli said nothing, instead he held out his hand. You gladly placed your palm in his, comforted by its warmth.

“You shouldn’t hold yourself so cheaply,” Zhongli spoke softly, “there are a great many extraordinary things about you. Your affectionate nature, your determination to live even when the world is dark and dangerous, your willingness to open your heart to some ancient archon who knows little of humans. If that’s not extraordinary, I don’t know what is. I don’t feel towards anyone as I do towards you, at least I haven’t in a long time. So don’t think of yourself that way anymore, please.”

“I won’t.” You replied. And it was true. You knew you wouldn’t be able to, not anymore. Zhongli would make sure of that, already you could tell.

To some love burns like fire in the mind, to other it wraps you up in a blanket of comfort. You felt incredibly lucky, for you despite yourself demanded both, and somehow fate had bestowed it upon you. And for that you would be forever grateful.

#is damn a swear word?#I tagged just in case #I have sort of triumphed over my computer #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #albedo #beidou #keqing #zhongli #albedo x reader #beidou x reader #keqing x reader #zhongli x reader #scenarios #my writing #requested

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years ago

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 20 | S.R.)

Summary: Reader lies to Spencer.

A/N: Please read the content warnings for this one if you have basically any triggers, lol. This is a very heavy chapter - it is the penultimate climax of the story. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst (NSFW) Content Warning: 🚨 IMPORTANT – READ BEFORE READING🚨 This episode covers a number of very dark topics, and should be approached at a time when you have support systems available. Potential triggering topics include: sexual assault, violations of consent, suicide, self-harm, pregnancy/termination, infertility, domestic dispute, fighting, and underage drinking, sex w/ blanket consent Word Count: 11K

MASTERLIST

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Rossi’s house was every bit as extravagant as I had expected. I had come in honestly hoping to be slightly disappointed so I could mock him for it, but, as always, he had to force his appearance to be as unnecessarily elegant as possible.

That being said, I was a little surprised to find that most everyone gathered in one spot - the kitchen. It was only to be expected, considering it was usually the happiest room in the home. That certainly remained true for Rossi. But they were also all gathered there because that was where the wine was – wine that I was not allowed to drink.

Rossi didn’t have a problem with it… Spencer did. Because of course he did. And while I politely declined when Rossi offered me some, anyway, I found another offer a little more tempting. Which explains why I found myself clutching Derek’s flask and draining half the contents quickly enough to remind him that I was, in fact, in college.

And if anyone were to ask, I would simply tell them that we were hanging out in the hall outside the bathroom to have a very deep and secret heart-to-heart about our shared love for a certain mop headed genius. It would have been the perfect cover to use on pretty much everyone except…

“Ahem.”

The sound of Spencer’s throat clearing behind me was enough to cause me to choke, and I quickly tossed the closed flask back to an already giggling Derek as I shouted, “Fuck!” I didn’t even turn around when his hand snaked around my hip. Instead, I just groaned.

“The narc’s here,” I whispered to Derek, but he knew better than to answer.

“The narc?” Spencer balked, much to his friend’s delight.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Derek offered in consolation, taking a swig out of the flask and earning a very defensive glare from my boyfriend. In fact, Spencer seemed downright pissed, which wasn’t what I had been expecting when I agreed.

Oops. What’s the male equivalent of a cat fight?

“Morgan, didn’t you lecture me about her drinking underage a few months ago?” he snapped, grabbing the flask from a more than willing Derek. Spencer sniffed the contents and immediately recoiled, tossing it back again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, shooting a glance down to see me sort of just making heart eyes at the sight of my boyfriend being a stupid level of jealous that I'd been caught in the hallway with another boy.

“How does that make it better? That makes it patently worse,” he argued. Derek might have responded to it, too, if I hadn’t latched myself onto Spencer’s side.

“You’re so cute when you get all stupid and possessive,” I drawled, burying my face in his shoulder in what I think was supposed to be a playful kiss, but actually just ended up being a muffled laugh.

“That,” Derek chuckled, pointing to me teetering back and forth on my heels at Spencer’s side, “That is my cue to leave.” With one final wink, he whispered, “Don’t be too hard on him, Princess.”

Spencer’s angry sigh and entirely stiff posture should have served as my warning, but it was just funny to me at the time.

“They all think I’m the boss of us,” I giggled. “Me! The boss!”

“You’re drunk.” His tone dropped the second Derek was out of earshot, and on intimidation alone, he managed to back me against the wall.

“So is everyone but you. They won’t even notice,” I mumbled, although the more the hallway started to spin, the less I believed that. I'd never been very good at math or shots, and this was a pretty horrible miscalculation of just how much of my tolerance I’d lost.

“You really couldn’t wait a few more months? Or at least until we got home?”

He was chastising me, and I just wasn’t there to hear it. I probably could have figured it out if I’d tried, but it all sounded like sexy nonsense at the time. Walking my fingers down his chest, I paused at his belly before hooking them in his pants and pulling his hips against mine.

“I’m allowed to drink if my daddy says so,” I purred.

Spencer didn’t find my taunt as charming as I’d hoped, and before I knew it his hand was roughly pressed over my jaw. He tilted my head back to look him in the eyes, and I wondered if he could smell the whiskey on my breath.

“Well, I didn’t,” he growled.

I never said I was a perfect person, or even a smart one. And when I was drinking and Spencer whipped out his Daddy voice, I don’t know what he really expected me to do. But apparently, trying to grab his dick through his pants was the wrong move. He snatched my hand away quickly, slamming it against the wall before he continued his little impromptu lecture.

“I’m not rewarding you for this. We’re going home.”

“That’s not a very scary threat,” I deadpanned, throwing my body weight back against the wall.

That lasted about four seconds before he pulled me back to my feet and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Just wait, little girl. Just you wait until I get my fucking hands on you.”

I was going to make a snarky joke, to remind him that his hands were surely and firmly already on me, but I never got the chance. We were both too distracted by the very loud and very high pitched squeal of Penelope as she rounded the corner.

“Ah! I saw nothing!” she shouted, covering her face with her hands and refusing to remove them.

“Yeah, because we aren’t doing anything,” I laughed. But then, being the slightly cruel brat that I was, I stuck my tongue out at Spencer before tacking on a completely unnecessary, “anymore.”

“We weren’t doing anything before either!” he squeaked back. He wasn’t using his Daddy voice anymore. So swiftly, so easily, he’d been knocked from his higher footing.

Penelope took the words to heart, but only enough to slowly lower her fingers and peek between them. With a shaky voice and an awkward laugh, she started to rant. “Oh. It’s fine. I’m cool. We’re all cool. We don’t have to talk about that thing from the first time I met you ever again. Because we said we’d never talk about it again, do you remember that?”

“I do remember that,” I answered with a very sarcastic tone and a nod.

“And I just brought it up again, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I whispered, “Yes, you did.”

“I’m so sorry. Spencer, Hotch is looking for you,” she rushed, turning to the beet-red boy at my side. “Okay, that’s it. Take your time, because I’m cool and not at all mortified.” She was basically already gone before she'd even finished talking, taking off in the direction she'd come from while downing the drink in her hand.

With a loose, clumsy wave I shouted back, “Bye, Penelope.”

“Mortified is a good word. An accurate word,” Spencer huffed as he wiped a hand over his face. His bashfulness, while cute, was not as exciting as the pre-Penelope behavior.

Running my hands underneath his blazer and up his back, I pressed my chest against his. “Gosh, Dr. Reid. You need to be more appropriate in such a public setting.”

The words, while meant to get him riled up, did more to frustrate me. My drunken mind was more than happy to revert to the metro, and before I knew it, my daydreams were filled with images of Spencer stuffing me into the tiniest closet he could find and having his way with me.

“Oh, I’m the one lacking manners?” Spencer chuckled as he apparently read my very lewd thoughts. He pried my arms off of him and pulled them back to rest at my sides before pressing a strangely chaste kiss on my forehead. “Go get your stuff. I’m going to go talk to Hotch and I’ll meet you by the door.”

Before he disappeared around the corner, he shot me one last warning glance and ordered, “Do not mingle!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” I yelled back.

Once he was gone, it was my job to figure out how to make my body work again. Luckily, it wasn’t the first time I’d had too much to drink in a room filled with drunk adults. Granted, they usually weren’t all cops, but, whatever.

Turns out, it somehow made it easier. I managed to grab my things off the counter without alerting anyone except Penelope, who quickly turned back around with a blush. She probably figured I was gonna go blow him in the bathroom or something. I’d have been offended if the thought hadn’t literally just crossed my mind. I made it all the way to the door before I heard it. Back through the halls, a few of the group had separated to talk about how much harder it had been to see Hotch and JJ. It was nothing, just a little bug spreading through daycares like wildfire. That wasn’t what upset me, though.

No, the thoughts running through my head were more than just a passing thought of kids sick with a cold. I looked up at the walls of the entryway to Rossi’s home and saw intricate moulding and nothingness. I saw the exquisite, pristine rug underneath my feet, and I thought about how lonely it felt.

I was standing in a house that should have felt happy, filled with friends and family and love. There was no doubt that everyone who was there wanted to be there, and probably had nowhere else they’d rather be. But the tall ceilings and thousands of square feet felt so goddamn empty.

It isn’t the building, I heard a tiny, terrified voice call out from inside my own conscience.

It’s you. You’re empty.

I had to leave. I had to get out of the house. I had to hear the silence so that the nothingness would feel more appropriate and less noticeable. I couldn’t let them see me, because if they saw me, they would know. They would know that I was nothing but a husk of the girl they used to know. Without even thinking, I threw the door open, stumbling forward and almost falling flat on my face as I misjudged the small step down to the patio.

“Fuck!” I muttered, the world rocking around me with a stubborn persistence. If it weren’t for the frankly freezing temperature, I was sure I would have been sick. To make matters worse, there was a person quickly approaching.

“Hey, are you and Spence leaving already?”

It was JJ. Thank god, it was JJ. Probably the only person who wouldn’t make fun of me for being a mess on Rossi’s steps after only a few shots of whatever Morgan was drinking.

“Oh. Hey, JJ. Yeah. He’s…” I turned to my side, half expecting Spencer to be there to answer for me. But he wasn’t, so I ended up just pointing to the closed door before slurring, “he’s doing a thing.”

She was, per usual, very kind when faced with my buffoonery, and just laughed as she shook her head. “A thing. Sounds like him.”

I honestly thought that would be the end of it. It was a good, easy segue into a farewell. She already knew we were leaving, and she knew Spencer well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave me alone for long.

And I think she almost did leave. She almost walked right past me and into the warmth and comfort of a home filled with family and friends. But she didn’t. She stopped and asked me the one question I was really hoping she wouldn’t.

“Are you alright?”

I didn’t want her to ask because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to lie to her. Even if I could have managed it, she would have seen right through me in a second. Not only would it have been an exercise in futility, but she would also know that I thought it was worth it to try to lie.

So, I was honest… quite possibly too honest.

“No, not really. But it’s a lot and I’m kind of drunk, so…”

The mom eyes appeared so quickly, with JJ’s body turning entirely away from the door and over to me. “Not usually a good combination, but an understandable one,” she softly replied, wrapping her arms around herself to make up for the fact that she was sacrificing her comfort in many different ways to talk to me, instead.

She was probably just being nice— staying with me until Spencer could come take over the babysitting of the drunk twenty year old, but I wasn’t exactly thinking critically at the time. Which is only part of the reason why I blurted out the only thing on my mind; the thing that had been haunting me for longer than I wanted to admit even to myself, much less another person.

“Has Spencer ever talked to you about kids?”

The air, still freezing, also fell uncomfortably silent.

“Oh…” she mumbled under her breath, clearly unsure of how to handle that particular minefield of a topic. Especially with her best friend’s girlfriend, who also happened to be drunk. I almost told her to forget about it, but then she looked up at me with a powerful resolve. “Yeah, he has. Why?”

I thought about my next words more carefully, although you wouldn’t have been able to tell considering how much I stuttered.

“Do you think… Do you think he’d be happy if… I can’t have them?” I asked, wringing my hands together over my stomach. “Like, not just happy today, but like ten years from now?” I could hear how desperate I sounded, but I needed someone to hear the words playing on loop in my mind. Absolutely frantic and with tears pooling in my eyes, I asked, “Do you think he’d still love me if I can’t give him kids?”

“(Y/n), slow down. It’s okay!” JJ urged, lunging forward to cup my cheeks and gently wipe away any stray tears. “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin your make up and it looks like you spent a lot of time on it.”

I had to laugh because not only was it my exact brand of humor, she said it with such a serious face that I had to wonder if it was genuinely her biggest concern. Of course, I knew it wasn’t. In her usual JJ way, she just knew the easiest way to cheer me up was with a laugh.

“Yeah, there’s like $80 on my face, it’s really not worth it to cry,” I agreed, sniffling softly when she finally pulled away her hands. At least I could blame that part on the cold.

“Exactly. And if you cry, then I’ll cry, and then I’ll also ruin my make up, and we’ll just be $150 down the drain with nothing to show for it,” she joked with a tired roll of her eyes and a shrug.

Together, we laughed, finding a pocket of warmth in a world that often felt too cold. Behind JJ’s eyes though, I saw an empathy I wasn’t expecting. That small, instinctual part of my brain tugged at my heart, telling me that there was an unspoken bond forming. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know why. I had a feeling that it was one of those secrets you just didn’t ask about, so I let it go.

“Thanks. It’s a stupid thought anyway,” I sighed, shuffling my feet and knocking my heels against the somehow spotless patio. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, so why stress about it, right?”

But then JJ said something I wasn’t expecting. Something that I actually really, really needed to hear.

“I don’t know, I think you’re allowed to be worried. It’s normal to feel scared.”

The sentence hit me like a freight train carrying lead and cement. At first, my brain refused to comprehend it at all. I struggled to repeat the idea, not because I was drunk but because it sounded so wrong. I had wanted it to be true so badly, and here she was, telling me it was okay.

Sensing my simultaneous trepidation and revelation, JJ cringed a bit when she said, “But I think it is a good idea to talk to Spence about it instead of me. Because, to be honest, I’ve also had one too many glasses to be helpful.”

That time when I laughed, it was full-hearted and involved every muscle in my body. “God, I love you, Jennifer,” I said through the noise.

She just shook her head, clearly enjoying the drastic mood swing she’d had a great part in. “I love you, too,” she whispered, running her hand over my shoulder and arm to pull me into a small half-hug. And that was how Spencer found us, giggling and sniffling on Rossi’s porch.

“Hey, are you ready to— Oh! Hey JJ,” he stopped, taking a very hesitant step forward in the hope that we wouldn’t both start crying on the spot. Drunk girls had a tendency to do that. “W-What are you guys doing out here?”

She let me go first, shoving her hand, still damp with my tears, into her pockets with a secretive smile. “Girl talk.”

“That usually doesn’t bode well for me,” Spencer answered with an awkward, nervous laugh. He didn’t make a move to grab me yet, probably too scared to step between the two of us. I was too busy giggling at the thought of his mind cycling through all the possible secrets I might have spilled in my uninhibited state.

I was tipsy, but I wasn’t that drunk.

JJ pulled two fingers over her mouth in a cheeky motion as she whispered, “My lips are sealed.”

“An even worse sign,” Spencer winced, turning to finally wrap his arm around me. He must have noticed the chill on my skin, because seconds later he had me practically wrapped in his coat. “I should just cut my losses and get her out of here, huh?”

“Shut up, old man,” I slurred, cuddling closer to his body heat despite my protests. Even in the darkness, I watched the heat bloom in his face at the nickname. By far, the worst part about the situation was the fact that I couldn’t kiss him, because I just knew he would be so warm, and I was really starting to get cold. I suspect that’s why he started to whisk me away, unceremoniously shushing me as JJ cleared her throat and raised her hand in a wave.

Before we got too far, though, I heard her speak again. “Oh! (Y/n), your questions!”

“What about them?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder and nearly falling to the ground as a result.

JJ looked at me, and then back to Spencer, whose arm was wrapped possessively around me. She smiled a pure, toothy grin that filled her face, causing that weird feeling in my gut to flare up again. She saw something in that moment that I wasn’t sure I’d ever really understand, but her voice started to crack just enough to notice when she called out, “The answer is yes. To all of them.”

—————————————————

The ride back to Spencer’s place was uneventful, though I tried very hard to make it interesting. After the fourth time he'd swatted away my hand and threatened to throw me in the back, I gave in to his demand to behave. I blamed my compliance on the alcohol, although it was probably more so a result of total exhaustion.

The respite from socialization was apparently what I needed to be able to function again, because as soon as we pulled into his apartment parking lot, I was awake.

... Awake enough to try and maul him in the hallway. But, in his sober stubbornness, he continued to evade my advances all the way until his front door clicked shut behind us. His hands on my hips had never felt like such a victory before.

“Did you enjoy wreaking havoc all night?” he whispered, slowly leading us towards his room. I couldn’t see where I was going, but I didn’t need to. Even without an eidetic memory, my body cherished this path and the memories it always led to. I trusted him to catch me if I stumbled. Which, I definitely did.

“I’m the cutest devil you’ll ever see,” I slurred.

“At least you admit it,” Spencer laughed. I couldn’t tell if it was at my words or the fact that I was failing terribly at trying to unbutton his shirt. My drunk self was not a skilled multitasker.

Once I felt the bed against the back of my thighs, I hopped on top of the covers before he could even try to help me up. It was muscle memory. We’d been there before.

“I’m feeling more fallen angel tonight,” I sighed, sliding against the comforter until I found his pillow.

Naturally, Spencer saw the way I gravitated to his side. He smiled as he removed his shirt that I’d left mostly intact. “By all means, feel free to stay that way.”

I probably should have taken off my dress, or my shoes, but I didn’t. The world sort of felt like a wave pool on a sunny day, and I was worried that if I paid too much attention to what was going on around me, I'd think about something I really didn’t want to think about.

I couldn’t remember what it was.

But then Spencer’s hands were gliding up and down my calves, and I shuddered at the contact. He took his time removing my shoes before coming up to join me on all fours. I wondered if he could taste the whiskey on my tongue when he kissed me. Did it remind him of the circumstances that had brought us together? Did it remind him of his hangover and sins?

Did he think of monsters when he kissed me?

My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling lightly to try to keep him there. And when he pulled away, I tried to fight him. I tried to follow him, scared that once the kiss was over, I’d start remembering things I probably should have tried to forget.

He must have seen the denial in my eyes, because he hesitated. His hand came up to lightly grab my wrist and lead my hand that had a death grip on his hair down to his face. “Are you too drunk? Should we stop?”

Throwing my head back with a groan, I tried not to hate him for actually caring about me again. “If you stop right now, I’m going to actually scream,” I droned. It got me a laugh, at least.

“That doesn’t comfort me in the slightest.”

Once I opened my eyes, I found myself wishing I hadn’t. It wasn’t that I saw hesitancy or fear in Spencer’s eyes – on the contrary, it was the lack of anything bad at all that bothered me. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a sincere, pure adoration that I couldn’t argue with.

I chose to ignore it, instead. I couldn’t remember why it made my stomach hurt.

“Are you going to make me do a sobriety test?” I giggled, letting my hands travel down his shoulders and chest. I wasn’t in as much of a rush as I had been earlier. I wanted to take my time remembering what it felt like to be pinned under him and surrounded by his embrace.

“I’m positive that you’ve practiced those while drunk,” he playfully replied while trying to hide the way goosebumps followed my fingers as they trailed down to more interesting territory.

“Yeah, I can say the alphabet backwards and everything.”

It was meant as a joke, but Spencer apparently had some doubts. With a scrunched up smile, he laughed back as he asked, “Really?”

The fact that he believed I was capable of something like that might have been flattering if it hadn't been based on his incredibly flawed perception of my propensity to lawbreaking. But since it was based on ideas of immorality rather than intelligence, it just made me mad.

Smacking him lightly on the chest, I both pouted and laughed as I snapped back, “No, of course not, asshole!”

Spencer just grinned, giving a delayed wince at the offensive contact before he sat up again. I didn’t realize why at first, but as he slowly started to coax me into turning around, I remembered that I was, in fact, still fully dressed. I figured it was either his way of saying that I’d won, or just an excuse to take off the dress so I might actually go to sleep. I was fine with either.

“I was drunk the first night we met, if you’ve forgotten,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side of the bed and moving my hair so that he wouldn’t catch any in the zipper.

“I definitely haven’t forgotten that night.”

The nostalgia in his voice was both comforting and painful. We’d always joked about that night, though. It wasn’t an insult at all.

“No? Do you think about it often?” I replied playfully, forcing myself not to think too hard about whether he wished I was still the girl he'd met that day.

Spencer made it easy to forget, with his hand starting to draw the zipper down while he leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “I think about it all the time.” My breath hitched in my throat at the way his voice warped into a rough, raspy tone. “You almost made me believe that you were just some shy, innocent little girl.”

This time when he got me to turn back over, there was nothing gentle about it. His hands were clearly craving the kind of violence they got to use last time. I wanted to feel them again.

“We can make a new memory if you want,” I panted, looking up at him with wanton eyes and my dress loose enough to expose parts of my breasts to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered at the sight below him. He pressed his erection against my hip as he ran a hand over my cheek. “Tell me the rules.”

“I tell you to stop if I need to,” I carefully enunciated.

“Good girl,” he moaned, starting to rock against me. Struggling to pull my dress off himself, he pleaded in a slightly pitiful manner, “Can I…?”

I helped him, desperate to feel his skin against mine. I didn’t even think about what it meant for my dress to be gone. It wasn’t until Spencer’s mouth dropped to my chest so enthusiastically that I realized that he’d failed to stop and kiss my lips first.

With both hands on my breasts, he lavished each pebbled peak with his fingers and tongue. He hadn’t ever mentioned the fact that he’d missed me shirtless, but it was painfully obvious in the way his lips trailed along my body. It was obvious in the rumbling of his moans against my skin and the way his hands roughly kneaded the soft tissue.

I was forced to remember why I hadn’t let him see me topless.

I felt naked. Not because of the exposed skin, but because I couldn’t warp reality with lace or cotton anymore. My marred stomach might not have made a physical barrier, but it still made him feel so far away. It was a paralyzing kind of realization, and I felt myself retreat so quickly that it hurt.

Thankfully, it was Spencer who was kissing me. If it had been anyone else, I think I would have just laid there, terrified and small and alone. But I couldn’t do that with him.

“Spencer?” I quietly called, and he immediately stopped, his eyes meeting mine with all the attention a girl could ever ask for. I smiled, and the sensation almost felt foreign.

“Come kiss me here instead,” I said with a little giggle, tapping my lips to bring him back to where I wanted him. And he came to me so quickly, his mouth crashing onto mine in seconds and his hands tangling in my hair.

I had forgotten so quickly how easy it was to get lost in him. Thanks to the alcohol, my mind wasn’t able to stick with any thought for longer than a few seconds. Mixing that with Spencer’s hands and mouth, I was never going to be able to think in more than a few words at a time. And I shouldn’t have needed to, right? It was just sex. We’d done it many times before, and it had never been a disappointment. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of mind — some instinctual warning that told me I was doing something wrong.

I wanted him, so what could be wrong about that? There was nothing painful or unappreciated in the way he lined himself up at my entrance, and I certainly made that much clear. It was hard to even hear him over the sound of my own moans, and my nails dug into his shoulder as I guided him into me with my hips.

“I love you,” I cried, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my heels into the back of his thighs.

“I love you so much, little girl,” he whispered against my lips, his forehead resting against mine.

For a moment, it was okay. The feeling subsided long enough for me to enjoy the fact that Spencer, the man I loved, loved me back. I thought about how long it had taken us to get to this point, and how I never wanted to lose it again. I held onto him for dear life, rocking my hips to meet his and bringing his mouth down to mine.

It was okay, until he spoke again.

“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned into my mouth, “even when you’re being bad you just want to be useful.”

Useful.

The word had come back to haunt me several times in the recent weeks. I hadn’t said anything about it because I couldn’t understand why it bothered me so much. There was no reason for me to be upset. He was just saying what I usually liked to hear.

So why did it hurt?

And I realized then, that the reason that experience felt so horrible wasn’t because of me at all. It was because it was Spencer. It was Spencer, the man I loved. There he was, trying to love me and comfort me and hold me and I…

In a rush of emotions and memories and repressed regrets, I was forced to face the fact that I had made a terrible mistake. The kind of mistake that if I didn’t do something about it in that exact, immediate moment, would become a disaster. The kind of disaster that meant he might never want to touch me again. The kind that would make him hate me. The kind that would make him leave and I couldn’t blame him for.

I had made a mistake.

“Wait, wait, Spencer, stop!” I slurred, my hands that had been holding him close seconds earlier shoving him off of me with the little force I was capable of. It didn’t take much, though, considering how fast he jumped back.

Frantic and terrified, he grabbed my face and tried to inspect my eyes that were avoiding him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look at him. “No, I just really need to stop,” I muttered, my breath picking up even more as I slid away from him, “Can I just— Can you just give me a minute?”

My hands slid over my chest, trying to hide the shame I felt inside to no avail. Spencer only made it worse in the way he quickly grabbed clothing, covering me in his shirt before he dressed himself. He even took the time to find me pants and help me in them, quietly and carefully. Like a doll.

I was going to be sick.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he croaked brokenly while he curled up at my side, trying to wrap his arms around me before he realized I was shrinking away from his touch. He was so confused. He had no reason to know what was going on, but I could see on his face that he was desperately trying to figure it out.

“Does this have something to do with what you were talking to JJ about?”

An interesting question. I didn’t know the answer.

“Yes. No? Maybe. I guess?” I ran a hand over my face that landed on my throbbing temple. The lack of tears on my face almost surprised me. I probably should have been crying, but I wasn’t. In a way, it felt like I had no tears left to give. When I turned to him, bile rose in my throat and I was afraid that I might choke on it if I didn’t get the words out faster. I just had to tell him. He needed to know.

“Listen, I lied to you. And I need to say something.”

I had just gotten my breathing under control, just in time for his to go erratic. His pulse was visible in his throat as he swallowed. “Lied to me? About what?”

“I…” The world was rocking, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or my brain trying to comprehend my own self-destructive stupidity. I knew which one I was going to blame, though. “Fuck, I didn’t think I was this drunk.”

“What did you lie to me about?” he repeated, his hands gripping handfuls of the sheet in hopes of stopping the rest of his body from trembling.

“Well, I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you.”

It was the most useless clarification, and it did absolutely nothing to appease his concern. The longer the words stayed stuck and muddled in my mouth, the more devastated he seemed. In hindsight, I would realize all the millions of awful reasons his mind must have been feeding him in the absence of the truth.

“Please, whatever it is, just tell me,” Spencer begged with a hesitant, shaky hand coming to rest on top of mine. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, we both looked down at our hands. It was a mercy and a disservice. I just had to tell him, but I couldn’t convince myself to do it without looking him in the eyes. That didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful that he didn’t look back, though. Because once the words were said, there would be no going back from them.

He was going to hate me.

“I… stopped taking my birth control,” I whispered in a voice that felt so foreign. “Like, a while ago.”

Spencer’s jaw steeled, his eyes widening and shooting up to me with the same speed he used to jump off the bed. Despite my efforts to grab him, to stop him from leaving me, he was five feet away in a matter of seconds.

“What?!” he shouted. It was the loudest I’d ever heard him. Even the echoes felt deafening, and my hands covered my ears with a wince.

“Shit! That was loud!” I whined in a pathetic attempt to make him feel bad for me. I didn’t deserve it, but I think it worked. Because the next time he spoke, it was at a more manageable volume.

“What do you mean you stopped taking your birth control?! When?!”

“Stop yelling at me.” I pulled my knees to my chest and ignored the pain in my stomach when I did so. It felt well deserved.

“You aren’t joking, either. Why didn’t you tell me this?” Spencer continued, his hands raking through his hair while he started to pace the room.

Nothing about it felt real. I felt like I was stuck in one of my million recurring nightmares. I just wanted to wake up, to be somewhere other than in a room too small for the bass in his voice. I only barely saw him when he finally approached me. He still stayed a few feet away, but he met my eyes that stared vacantly at the wall ahead of me.

“Answer me!”

Whether it was the order that broke me or the pain in his voice, all of my resolve and apathy shattered at once.

“You’ve always said you wanted to get me pregnant!” I screamed back, digging my nails into my skin in the hope of finding feeling there.

“Not like this! Not right now!” he scoffed. The sound would have hurt more if he hadn't stepped closer to me when he made it.

“Why not?!” I tried to sound angry, but all I heard was the plea beneath the words.

I just want to be useful. Please let me be useful.

“Are you serious?” Spencer’s disbelief was present in every ounce of his existence. His hands were alternating between fists and flat palms, his voice cracking and wavering in pitch. “What has gotten into you? You know that you can’t have a child right now.”

I bit down on my tongue in one final attempt to keep the scary words inside. But he couldn’t feel the way his words felt just like bullets and scar tissue that would never fully heal again.

“You almost died! Do you—“ he choked, but powered through his body’s attempt to stop the thought. “Do you understand the danger that would put you in?”

“I know, alright?! I know!” The words were loud and hoarse, and I covered my own ears to hopefully drown out the sound of failure on my own tongue. “I know I can’t have a fucking kid right now!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

I don’t know. Please, help me.

He waited for my answer, but it stayed trapped in my head. When I started to rock in place, my hands still clamped over my ears and the tears I swore I didn’t have starting to fall, he sighed.

“Get up, we’re going to the store.”

“Why?” I spat, sinking further into my spot in a purely selfish manner.

“Get up,” he said again, this time reaching out for my hand.

But I didn’t want to touch him. I didn’t want him to touch me like this. I was scared that if I did what he wanted, then the fight would be over. And if the fight ended, then what would be left? Was this all just some elaborate ruse to get me in his car so that he could drive me home and leave me there?

His hand touched mine so softly, with so much patience and love that it burned. Why wasn’t he angrier? He should be.

“No!” I screamed, smacking his hand away from me. Although I knew it didn’t hurt, I saw him wince at the contact. His lips flattened as he looked at the stupid sobbing girl on his bed.

Then he left. He turned on his heel, and with less patience that time, grumbled the explanation he'd refused to give before. “We’re going to the store and getting levonorgestrel so that you don’t make the stupidest mistake of your life.”

It wasn’t the words that got me to move, but the fact that he was quickly leaving the room. I scrambled after him recklessly, crashing into just about every stationary object in the way. The shock had hit me so hard that I forgot I was still drunk.

“Is it really that awful to imagine having a future with me?” I sobbed, chasing after him just to crash into him when he stopped.

He still caught me, but I couldn’t tell you why.

“You know that’s not what this is about.” He sounded so tired, but he kept going. He kept fighting with me even though I could see in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I love you, (y/n)! But you’re acting like… like a child!”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, pushing myself away from him.

I was scared that if I didn’t force our bodies apart, I would have fallen to pieces in his arms again. And I knew he would try to put me back together again. He would try to help me because that’s what he always did. But sometimes things are just completely, irrevocably broken. Sometimes there was simply no fixing it.

Good luck convincing Spencer of that.

“I don’t need this shit and I don’t need to go to the store,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way back into the bedroom to locate my purse that I’d so gracefully thrown on the floor.

“(Y/n), just because the chances of pregnancy are low doesn’t mean they are nonexistent, and I’m not going to be the reason you throw your life away! You said yourself you aren’t ready to be a housewife!” I heard him rambling from the other room. Eventually, he followed the sounds of plastic packaging and rustling paper.

“Shut up,” I groaned, finally getting the tiny pill free and successfully shoving it in my mouth before I managed to drop it. “Just leave me alone, Spencer.”

Obviously, it wasn’t going to work. After all, I was in his apartment, and currently sitting cross legged in the middle of his bedroom and trying to dry swallow a pill that tasted a lot like every mistake I’d ever made.

“When did you buy that? And why do you have it with you?” He didn’t sound angry at all anymore. He didn’t even particularly sound annoyed or confused, just… exhausted.

“You’re welcome for saving you the drive.”

Of all the things he could have done, he chose the one I expected the least. He came to me, and carefully lowered himself to the ground in front of me. At first, that was all he did. He just sat across from me with puppy dog eyes and an awkward posture.

“Look at me,” he called gently.

“I don’t want to.”

He sighed, waiting another second to catch his breath and let the earlier emotions settle in the air. “You had that in your purse. Why?” he asked as he reached forward to grab the remnants of the torn up box and confirm that it was what he thought it was. Once he was satisfied, he just sounded even more broken. “You’ve clearly thought about it enough to plan ahead, but apparently I wasn’t important enough to have a say in any of these decisions.”

The pain that was forming in my stomach hurt worse than the AR-15.

“Were you just… Just planning on making those decisions without even telling me?” He was on the verge of tears, though he tried his very best to hide it. It might’ve worked if I'd been both drunk and an idiot, but unfortunately the adrenaline was combatting the alcohol pretty well at that point.

With both hands covering his face, I could still see the way his jaw tensed between the words. “It would be my child, too,” he forced out, “You don’t— You don’t get to make those decisions without me. T-That’s not fair.”

The sounds were so pitiful, and I wanted to feel anything but what I felt. I wanted to feel angry or sad again, but I couldn’t. All I felt was hate; the most powerful, soul crushing self-loathing imaginable.

I didn’t want to be the reason he cried. I wanted it to stop, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t control myself. I just kept rubbing salt in the wound so he would leave. So that I could hate him for leaving me instead of hating myself for making him.

“There’s no kid. I would’ve taken it either way.”

That succeeded in getting a response.

“Then what was the point of any of this?!” he fumed, dropping his hands to gestured to the state of us, dressed in pajamas and tears. “If you really believe that, then why tell me? Why risk it at all?!”

“I don’t know.”

“I deserve a better answer than that. That’s bullshit and you know it,” he demanded with an accusing finger.

But I didn’t know that it was bullshit. Really, it was the truth. I didn’t know why I was doing this. All I knew was that if I stopped, if I was just honest with him, I would have to face a reality I wasn’t ready for.

“I deserve the truth,” he said as his hand fell, unable to stay up under the weight of the feeling behind it.

I looked at him and I saw my mistakes in the form of tears trickling down his cheeks and a tremble in his lips. I saw a man who deserved nothing but the greatest love, begging me to give him something to work with. He wasn’t asking me for the world — he just wanted me to talk. To say something so that he could understand why I wanted him to hate me.

I didn’t have an answer. Not one that either of us would believe, anyway.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spencer.” My lips moved without my permission, and my legs quickly followed the traitorous pursuit.

“What does that mean?” he begged me as he followed me. He followed me like he always did, with that suffocating hopefulness that we could make it.

But what if I couldn’t? What if this was it for me? What if, in my desperate desire to push him away, I was saving him from a miserable life with me?

I was trying to save him.

“It means…” I paused, turning to look him in the eyes so that he might finally hear what he needed to in my answer. “It means you should’ve picked a different 20 year old to fuck.”

His jaw finally relaxed, dropping open with a broken breath.

And I think he saw it. I think he saw the way I meant the words from the bottom of my soul. He heard me tell him that he should regret me while I tried to walk away, and he knew that I meant it.

“I’m leaving.” The words surprised me when I heard them in my own voice, but I followed them, nonetheless. I barreled towards the door with bare feet and my keys in my hand.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave like this.” His statements were logical, but that only served to further piss me off.

“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not your property!”

That wasn’t why I was angry. We both knew that wasn’t why. The real reason, the truth behind the reckless self-destruction was approaching too fast and I couldn’t slow it down. Nothing could stop it from rushing down the predetermined path that we stood on, and I was begging him to get off the tracks.

“If you leave right now, you’re going to fucking kill yourself!”

And then it happened. Practically foaming at the mouth with the unhinged rage that had been boiling underneath my skin for too long, I finally managed to let the words go.

“Maybe that’s the fucking point!”

Silence had never been so loud. It had never been that heavy.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that, Spencer?” I laughed because there was no reason in my mind not to. It all seemed so terribly obvious and we’d been skirting around it for so long. Why were we pretending like this was news? Like we hadn’t heard the horns and seen the headlights approaching?

“Please stop.” It was said like a plea but meant as an order. But I never listened to directions and he already knew that.

“I’m not your problem just because you were unfortunate enough to fall in love with me,” I continued, finding a freedom in being able to finally say what I’d been thinking all along. “Put me out of my fucking misery, Spencer. Just let me go.”

“Stop!” he shouted, pulling fistfuls of his hair as his chest heaved with deep, rasping breaths. I’d heard that voice from him before, but only once. The memories were locked away in the part of my brain that I swore to leave locked up.

I was back in the bank. I could feel his hands slipping in blood on my stomach and pressing into my cheeks. I was in the ambulance again. His hands were so warm that they burned, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to leave. I'd had one foot in the grave then. I felt like I was still there, teetering over the edge with nothing but Spencer’s frantic breathing and desperate begging keeping me from jumping in.

“Stop saying that!” Spencer ordered, his hands letting go just enough to come back down on his head with some force. I jumped at the contact and wondered when I'd started feeling his pain, too. I wondered when we'd found ourselves back in his apartment again.

“Y-You aren’t going to die!” He continued. It didn’t have the force of an order or the pathetic breaking of a cry. It was just a statement he was trying to will into existence. An attempt to ward off memories that reminded him he was capable of losing me. He had already almost lost me once. In a way, it was this same scenario.

It was just that he wasn’t losing me quickly from a gunshot wound. No, I was bleeding out in an entirely different way.

“You can’t— I can’t lose you. I can’t do it again,” he sobbed, falling to his knees and not caring at all about the bruises that would follow. The sight of him collapsing in on himself was terrifying, and I realized for the first time the true consequences of my actions. I couldn’t pretend that I was trying to save him anymore. I couldn’t listen to the congested, barely comprehensible ramblings of a man begging me not to want to die and act like I was thinking of him at all.

I was being selfish. How very much like me.

“Please, anything but that. You can hate me forever, but please don’t…” The words trailed off, and I felt compelled to answer them. I needed something to release the knot in my chest and allow my lungs to fill again.

“I don’t hate you, Spencer. I could never hate you.” The words were infuriating in their honesty, but he needed to hear them. He needed to know that none of this was his fault, that he’d done nothing wrong other than meet me.

I couldn’t leave him like that. He deserved so much better than me, but that was all that I had. So, I climbed down next to him, reaching out to him and hoping that he would hold me back.

To my surprise, he did. His hands grabbed mine like they were a lifeline, bringing them to his lips wet with tears. And although he was silent, I could hear the way he prayed that they wouldn’t fade away from him again.

“I-I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you. I’m supposed to be the adult here, I’m supposed to know how to fix these things, but I have no idea what I’m doing, (y/n).”

It was an admission Spencer didn’t often make. The complete helplessness and inability to fix the puzzle before him didn’t just hurt because it was painful to watch, it was also just another reminder of his limits.

One time he had promised me that he wouldn’t let anything hurt me. I should have told him that it was a stupid promise to make then. I should have showed him the skeletons in my closet and the mess in my hands.

But it didn’t matter anymore. He had already seen it, and it was too late. I’d made too many mistakes, and I had to face them. I couldn’t run away anymore. That meant listening to Spencer, pouring his heart out to me and clutching my hands like they would turn to nothing in front of him.

“You’re falling apart and you won’t talk to me. I don’t know how to make this stop hurting. I don’t know how to help you. Sometimes you’re so happy but other times I can see it in your eyes…”

Our eyes met, unguarded, for the first time in what felt like hours but was actually probably only a few minutes. We looked into each other’s eyes and tried to read each other’s minds. I didn’t know what he saw, but I heard the way it struck him.

“Do you… Do you want to leave me?” he asked.

And I realized then, that was what my behavior was leading up to. That was what my mind was racing towards, without ever considering whether it was what was best for me. Because I wasn’t thinking about what was best for me, or what I wanted, or what I should want. All I cared about was the same concern Spencer had for me— I didn’t want him to throw his life away just to be with me.

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

Spencer heard something in my question that brought life back to his eyes. I wished that I could hear his thoughts because he always seemed so much farther ahead. Like he could see the immediate future and knew what would follow.

Then again, maybe I was just idealizing him. I had a tendency to do that. He wasn’t a superhero. He was just a man, trying his best in a world that never really let him rest. I certainly didn’t help with that.

“No. No, that’s not what I want at all,” he said, his hands finding the courage to let go of mine and slide up my arms. He cupped my face with such an urgency and relief that it almost felt the same as before I had uttered those terrifying words. “I told you I want to marry you and I wasn’t kidding.”

It only took a few words for any progress and vulnerability to be obliterated. Four words. That’s all it took.

I want to marry you.

A white picket fence is what I’d promised him. I'd painted a vivid image of us with two children that were just like him. A normal, domestic life is what I’d said.

I hadn't known. I'd made a mistake. I had lied.

“Stop fucking saying that!” I wished the fight would leave my body and let my weary muscles rest, but it kept coming back. Sure as the sun rises in the morning, I couldn’t let go of the hatred. It had to go somewhere, and Spencer continued to be the stupid, stubborn man putting himself in front of me without any defenses.

I don’t think he was expecting that, though. He jumped back at the sound, his hands bracing his fall as I flailed to get away from him. I didn’t have the energy or coordination to stand, so I just let myself fall to pieces on the floor in front of him.

“Stop telling me about this future you have planned for us b-because I’m a useless, idiotic fuck up, and it’s freaking me the fuck out!”

Naturally, the only thing that could incense Spencer more than violating his trust was, apparently, talking badly about myself. Because as soon as he heard the words, he was wound up just the same.

“What are you so afraid of?!”

Without thinking about the words, implications, or consequences, I gave him the answer he fought for. I gave it to him because I couldn’t hold it any longer. I gave it to him and hoped that it would grant me the closure he sought, too.

“That I won’t ever be able to give you a baby and you’re going to fucking leave me!”

Spencer, in all his shock and disbelief, could only utter back a single, exasperated, “…What?” The way the word fell out of his mouth almost sounded like a laugh, the side of his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile.

“I’m scared that when I stop being useful to you, you’re going to leave me like everyone else,” I explained, my voice as small as I felt in that moment.

But Spencer, in his uncanny ability to predict the future, was trying not to smile. Don’t get me wrong — he wasn’t laughing at me, and the words certainly brought him no joy. But there was something else buried beneath the suffering.

“Come here,” he requested with a sad, small grin and a wave of his hand. When he saw the hesitance on my face, he beckoned me closer again with more feeling. “I want to talk to you. Come here.”

So I came. I came as close to him as I could. And as I practically sat in his lap, I remembered how much easier it was to breathe when he held me, and how much lighter the tears felt when he wiped them a way.

“Why do you think I’m going to leave you?” he asked through a chuckle, like the very notion was so unbelievable that it couldn’t be uttered as anything other than a joke.

“Y-You want kids,” I mumbled, looking down at our t-shirts wet with tears. I played with the hem of his to remind myself that we were both still there. And although Spencer sympathized, he didn’t seem too keen on me looking away at that particular moment. With a gentle finger under my chin, he guided my eyes back to his.

“Okay. So do you, right?”

“Well, yeah…” I paused and pursed my lips and bit down on the bottom one. I waited until he raised his eyebrows in a challenge before I explained. “But what if I can’t have any?”

Spencer’s face scrunched up with his shoulders in a dismissive shrug, “There are other ways to have kids. I’m not worried about that at all.”

Just like that, he’d waved away my fears of inadequacy and failure like they were smoke from an already snuffed out candle. He made it so clear so quickly that biology wasn’t the thing that mattered. That it wasn’t my genetics or physical traits that made him want to share a literal life with me.

Spencer didn’t need me to have his children; he just wanted me to raise some with him.

“Why are you worried about that? Did something happen?” he pressed forward, unsatisfied with the idea that I might still be carrying some heaviness without his assistance.

“The doctor told me that I might not ever be able to have my own kids and I just...”

I should have known better than to doubt the insistence of his greedy hands. They would never let a burden belong solely to me. And I… didn’t want to bear the weight alone anymore, either. The dam was broken, and my heart came rushing out into his waiting arms.

“I’m so tired of it, Spencer. I’m tired of this stupid shit stealing my life away from me. You’ve been taking care of me for months, a-and the way you look at me sometimes-- I can see it on your face. I can feel the way it hurts you just to look at me.”

That hurt flashed in his eyes right then but faded with a swiftness I hadn’t seen in a long time. He didn’t want me to see it yet. One fight at a time, I heard him think. When this shifted load balanced between us again, we could figure the rest out.

First, we had to settle this. It had to end.

“If I can’t give you children, and I can’t... I can’t make you happy then—“

“Stop,” he demanded, his finger coming up to cover my lips. There was no argument to be made at his protest. With a deathly seriousness veiled with bowed brows and a lip that still trembled, Spencer whispered to me, “You can feel however you want to, but you don’t get to decide how I feel.”

Tears welled in both of our eyes, threatening to fall with the other. But they didn’t, they stayed pooled at our lashes and drowned us in visions of haloed lights and blurry reflections.

“I am so happy with you. No matter what. Every second of every day. Do you understand me?”

The only answer I had the strength to give was my surrender. Collapsing forward into his arms, I buried my face into his shoulder. I reveled in the warmth of his chest and the strength of his hands on my back. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek as the deep, joyful breaths he took in came out as relieved laughter.

“I love you, (y/n).”

He must have heard, or at least felt, my soft groan in response, because he peeled me off of him with a smirk. “What’s wrong now?” he asked in an equally tired whine.

“You only use my name when you’re angry or sad,” I grumbled through a pout. It only felt a little silly, to joke about something so stupid minutes after screaming our hearts at each other. We were just so tired, and the finish line was in sight. We just wanted to cross it together, and preferably with less tears involved.

Spencer didn’t say any of that, but I felt it, nonetheless. It was clear in the way he pushed my hair from my face before running his fingers down my jaw. “I use your name when I’m worried,” he corrected. “And you scared me tonight. I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling this way.”

We were toeing the line back into heavy emotions, and I shook my head to ask him not to take me back there tonight. But I couldn’t blame him at the same time. He’d so gracefully handled all of my fears and rage; he deserved a chance to voice his own. They’d fallen so far behind in the race towards the truth.

“I understand you were scared to tell me, but...” he stopped, trying to find a way to explain it without hurting my feelings. He really was too nice to me.

“I know. It was stupid. I feel terrible,” I finished for him. Once my face hit his shoulder again, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” I said with almost all of the energy I had left. He stroked soothing patterns over my back, and after a moment I realized that we’d started to rock. I wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or mine.

“I appreciate your apology, but please promise me that you’ll talk to someone about this,” he humbly requested, his words muffled in my hair.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”

It was almost a joke. Spencer wasn’t going to let it go, though. “Don’t try to be clever with me, little girl. I need you to talk to someone who knows how to help you,” he playfully scolded.

Through a yawn and a chuckle, I pressed on in my attempt to end the night on a horrible joke. “Isn’t that your whole job?”

“Yeah, I guess it is sometimes, huh?” he agreed halfheartedly. Really, he was only trying to give me a little bit of a win. We both knew his job wasn’t very good at helping people before the fact. It was just another poor attempt at avoiding healing. I had been holding on to that anger so tightly that there wasn’t room for us in the space that was left.

“But I think you also know I can’t be that person for you,” Spencer eloquently said, cradling my head as it started to rock with each motion.

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, “I promise.”

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but no matter what, it wouldn’t have lasted long enough. The rhythm of his heart evened out over time, settling into the lullaby I needed to finally find some rest. But realistically, we couldn’t sleep there. Spencer was kind enough to practically carry me back into the bed we had shared when this all started, although this time he laid beside me.

From there, he helped tuck me in and pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. My eyes were closed, but the smile that spread over my cheeks was enough of a signal that I was still awake.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

My bloodshot eyes opened at his call, and I found love staring back at me. I knew he could see my eyes bouncing back and forth as I tried to see all of it at once in his eyes, and I didn’t care. Even when he kissed me, neither of us closed them.

“We don’t have to worry about anything,” he said as our mouths broke apart. His thumb swept over my cheeks to all the places I knew he was thinking about kissing. There was a very poor attempt to hide his smile at the thought of the future, but I appreciated the effort he put in.

“When you’re ready to try to have kids, I’ll be right there with you,” he said.

It was clear that Spencer really wanted it to be a meaningful sentiment, but I was still a little bitter at his failure to laugh at my previous terrible jokes. So when I saw the opportunity, I took it swiftly and with no regrets.

“I sure hope so, or else I don’t think it’ll work,” I muttered through the side of my mouth before turning onto my back.

Spencer’s first carefree giggle of the night was my prize, and I couldn’t have loved it any more. “That’s my little girl,” he cooed, curling up against my side and wrapping a possessive arm over my chest.

Just before my eyes fluttered shut, I saw movement below my face. I kept them open long enough to see his pinky presented to me and a knowing look in his eyes. “Everything will be alright as long as we have each other,” Spencer offered.

And despite our bad history with promises, I had no reasons left to doubt that one.

—————————————————

| Part 21 |

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid series #h2m #spencer reid self insert #angst #smut

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sk1fanfiction · 4 years ago

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the many faces of tom riddle, part 4

-attachment, orphanages, and yet more child psych: time to add yet another voice to the void-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

I'm going to be super biased, because my favorite portrayal of Tom Riddle is actually Hero Fiennes-Tiffin as eleven-year-old Tom Riddle, in HBP and I get to chat about child psych in this one, sooo here we go.

First of all, I’m just so impressed that a kid could bring that much depth to such a complex character.

This is the portrayal, I feel, that brings us closest to Tom’s character. Yes, Coulson’s brought us pretty close, but by fifth year, the mask was on.

We don't really get to see Tom looking afraid very often, but it's fear that rules his life, so it's really poignant in our first (chronologically) introduction, he looks absolutely terrified.

The void being the fandom's loud opinions on a certain headmaster. I wouldn't call myself pro-Dumbledore, but I'm certainly not anti-Dumbledore, either. (Agnostic-Dumbledore??)

Since I'm not of the anti-Dumbledore persuasion, I decided to poke around in the tags and see what the arguments were, so I don't make comments out of ignorance.

Most of the tag seems to be more directed towards his treatment of Harry and Sirius, but a few people mentioned that Dumbledore should have treated Tom with ‘exceptional kindness’ and tried to ‘rehabilitate’ him.

As I said in Parts 2 and 3, I am 100% in favor of helping a traumatized kid learn to cope, and I don’t think Tom Riddle was solidly on the Path to Evil (TM) at birth, or even at eleven. Not even at fifteen.

Could unconditional love and kindness have helped Tom Riddle enough for the rise of Lord Voldemort to never happen? Possibly, but...

Yes, I'm about to drag up that Carl Jung quote, again.

“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.”

The problem with this is that if you’re going to blame Dumbledore for this, you also have to blame every other adult in Tom’s life: his headmaster, Dippet, his Head of House, Slughorn, his ‘caretakers’ at the orphanage, Mrs. Cole and Martha, and possibly more. In fact, if we're going to blame any adult, let's blame Merope for r*ping and abusing Tom Riddle Senior, and having a kid she wasn't intending to take care of.

Furthermore, you cannot possibly hold anyone but Tom accountable for the murders he committed. (I should not have to sit here and explain why cold-blooded murder is wrong.) And if you like Tom Riddle's character, insinuating that his actions are completely at the whim of others is just a bit condescending towards him. He's not an automaton or a marionette, he's a very intelligent human being with a functioning brain, and at sixteen is fully capable of moral reasoning and critical analysis.

I've heard the theories about Dumbledore setting the Potters up to die, and I'm not going to discuss their validity right now; but he didn't put a wand in Tom's hand and force him to kill anyone. Tom did it all of his own accord.

And while yes, I have enormous sympathy for what happened to Tom as a child, at some point, he decided to murder Myrtle Warren, and that is where I lose my sympathy. Experiencing trauma does not give you the right to inflict harm on others. Yes, Tom was failed, but then, he spectacularly failed himself.

We also have no idea how Dumbledore treated Tom as a student.

In the movies, it’s Dumbledore who tells Tom he has to go back to the orphanage, but in the books, it’s Dippet. We know that Slughorn spent a lot of time around Tom at Slug Club and such, yet I don’t really see people clamoring for his head.

I regard the sentiment that Dumbledore turned Tom Riddle into Lord Voldemort with a lot of skepticism.

But let's hear from the character himself -- his impression of eleven-year-old Tom Riddle.

“Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time?” said Dumbledore. “No, I had no idea that he was to grow up to be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him, something I should have done in any case, given that he was alone and friendless, but which, already, I felt I ought to do for others’ sake as much as his."

Now, assuming that Dumbledore's telling the truth, I'm not seeing something glaringly wrong with this. No, he hasn't pigeonholed Tom as evil, yes, I'd be intrigued, too, and it's a very good idea to keep an eye on Tom, for his own sake.

“At Hogwarts,” Dumbledore went on, “we teach you not only to use magic, but to control it. You have — inadvertently, I am sure — been using your powers in a way that is neither taught nor tolerated at our school."

Again, it seems like he's at least somewhat sympathetic towards Tom, and is willing to at least give him a chance.

More evidence (again, assuming Dumbledore is a reliable narrator):

Harry: “Didn’t you tell them [the other professors], sir, what he’d been like when you met him at the orphanage?” Dumbledore: “No, I did not. Though he had shown no hint of remorse, it was possible that he felt sorry for how he had behaved before and was resolved to turn over a fresh leaf. I chose to give him that chance.”

Now, I think Dumbledore is pretty awful with kids, but I don't think that's malicious. Yeah, it's a flaw, but perfect people don't exist, and perfect characters are dead boring. I am not saying that he definitely handled Tom's case well, I'm just saying that there's little evidence that Dumbledore, however shaken and scandalized, wrote him off as 'evil snake boy.'

It's also worth taking into account that it's 1938, and the attitudes towards mental health back then.

Why is Tom looking at Dumbledore like that, anyway? Why is he so scared? What has he possibly been threatened with or heard whispers of?

"'Professor'?" repeated Riddle. He looked wary. "Is that like 'doctor'? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?"

"I don't believe you," said Riddle. "She wants me looked at, doesn't she? Tell the truth!"

"You can't kid me! The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course -- well, I'm not going, see? That old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you!

Tom keeps insisting he's not mad until Dumbledore finally manages to calm him down.

I'm really upset this wasn't in the movie, because it's important context. Instead we got these throwaway cutscenes of some knick-knacks relating to the Cave he's got lying around, but I just would have preferred to see him freaking out like he does in the book.

There was extreme stigma and prejudice towards mental illness.

'Lunatic asylums,' as they were called in Tom's time, were terrible places. In the 1930s and 40s, he could look forward to being 'treated' with induced convulsions, via metrazol, insulin, electroshock, and malaria injections. And if he stuck around long enough, he could even look forward to a lobotomy!

So, if you think Dumbledore was judgmental towards Tom, imagine how flat-out prejudiced whatever doctors or 'experts' Mrs. Cole might have gotten in to 'look at him' must have been!

Moving on to the next few shots, he is sitting down and hunched over as if expecting punishment or at least some kind of bad news, Dumbledore is mostly out of the frame. He’s trapped visually, by Dumbledore on one side, and a wall on the other, because he’s still very much afraid. uncomfortable, as he tells Dumbledore a secret that he fears could get him committed to an asylum (which were fucking horrible places, as I said).

It brings to the scene that miserable sense of isolation and loneliness to that has defined Tom’s entire life up to that point (and, partially due to his own bad choices, continues to define it).

And, when Dumbledore accepts it, his posture changes. he becomes more confident and more at ease, as he describes the... utilities of his magical abilities.

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising up his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

Riddle lifted his head. His face was transfigured: There was a wild happiness upon it, yet for some reason it did not make him better looking; on the contrary, his finely carved features seemed somehow rougher, his expression almost bestial.

I do think Harry, our narrator, is being a tad bit judgmental here. Magic is probably the only thing that brings Tom happiness in his grey, lonely world, and when I was Tom's age and being bullied, if I had magic powers, you'd better believe that I'd (a) be bloody ecstatic about it (b) use them. And, like Tom, I can't honestly say that I can't imagine getting a bit carried-away with it. Unfortunately, we can't all be as inherently good and kindhearted as Harry.

Reading HBP again, as a 'mature' person, it almost seems like the reader is being prompted to see Tom as evil just because he's got 'weird' facial expressions.

So... uh...

Nope, let's judge Tom on his actions, not looks of 'wild happiness.'

To his great surprise, however, Dumbledore drew his wand from an inside pocket of his suit jacket, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe in the corner, and gave the wand a casual flick. The wardrobe burst into flames. Riddle jumped to his feet; Harry could hardly blame him for howling in shock and rage; all his worldly possessions must be in there. But even as Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, the flames vanished, leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged.

Okay, one thing I dislike is Tom's lack of emotional affect when Dumbledore burned the wardrobe, in the books, he jumped up and started screaming, instead of looking passively (in shock, perhaps?) at the fire. Incidentally, I can't really tell if he's impressed or in shock, to be honest. I think they really tried to make Tom 'creepier' in the movie.

This is one of the incidents where Dumbledore's inability to deal with children crops up.

I think he was trying to teach Tom that magic can be dangerous, and he wouldn't like it to be used against him, but burning the wardrobe that contains everything he owns was a terrible move on Dumbledore's part. Tom already has very limited trust in other people, and now, he's not going to trust Dumbledore at all -- now, he's put Tom on the defensive/offensive for the rest of their interaction, and perhaps for the rest of their teacher-student relationship.

Riddle stared from the wardrobe to Dumbledore; then, his expression greedy, he pointed at the wand. "Where can I get one of them?"

"Where do you buy spellbooks?" interrupted Riddle, who had taken the heavy money bag without thanking Dumbledore, and was now examining a fat gold Galleon.

But I'm not surprised Tom is 'greedy.' He's grown up in an environment where if he wants something, whether that's affection, food, money, toys, he's got to take it. There's no one looking after his needs specifically. I'm not surprised that he's a thief and a hoarder, and I don't think that counts as a moral failing necessarily, and more of a maladaptive way of seeking comfort. It would be bizarre if he came out of Wool's Orphanage a complete saint.

Additionally, I think given that the Gaunt family has a history of 'mental instability,' Tom is a sensitive child, and the trauma of growing up institutionalized and possibly being treated badly due to his magical abilities or personality disorder deeply affected him.

And there are points where it seems that Dumbledore is quick to judge Tom.

"He was already using magic against other people, to frighten, to punish, to control."

"Yes, indeed; a rare ability, and one supposedly connected with the Dark Arts, although as we know, there are Parselmouths among the great and the good too. In fact, his ability to speak to serpents did not make me nearly as uneasy as his obvious instincts for cruelty, secrecy, and domination."

"I trust that you also noticed that Tom Riddle was already highly self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless?..."

And while this is all empirically true, these are (a) a product of Tom's harsh environment, and (b) do not necessarily make him evil. But the point remains that child psych didn't exist as a field of its own, and psychology as a proper science was in its infancy, so I'd be shocked if Dumbledore was insightful about Tom's situation.

But I've gone a ton of paragraphs without citing anything, so I've got to rectify that.

Let's talk about Harry Harlow's monkey experiments in the 1950-70s.

If you're not a fan of animal research, since I know some people are uncomfortable with it, feel free to scroll past.

Here's the TL;DR: Children need to be hugged and shown affection too, not just fed and clothed, please don't leave babies to 'cry out' and ignore their needs because it's backwards and fucking inhumane. HUG AND COMFORT AND CODDLE CHILDREN AND SPOIL THEM WITH AFFECTION!

I will put more red writing when the section is over.

This is still an interesting experiment to have in mind while we explore the whole 'no one taught Tom Riddle how to love' thing and whether or not it's actually a good argument.

Andddd let's go all the way back to the initial 1958 experiment, featured in Harlow's paper, the Nature of Love. (If you're familiar with Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, him and Harlow actually collaborated for a time).

To give you an idea of our starting point, until Harlow's experiment, which happened twenty years after Dumbledore meets Tom for the first time, no one in science had really been interested in studying love and affection.

"Psychologists, at least psychologists who write textbooks, not only show no interest in the origin and development of love or affection, but they seem to be unaware of its very existence."

I'm going to link some videos of Harry Harlow showing the actual experiment, which animal rights activists would probably consider 'horrifying.' It's nothing gory or anything, but if you are particularly soft-hearted (and I do not mean that as an insult), be warned. It's mostly just baby monkeys being very upset and Harlow discussing it in a callous manner. Yes, today it would be considered unethical, but it's still incredibly important work and if you think you can handle it, I would recommend watching at least the first one to get an idea of how dramatic this effect is.

Dependency when frightened

The full experiment

The TL;DW:

This experiment was conducted with rhesus macaques; they're still used in psychology/neuroscience research when you want very human-like subjects, because they are very intelligent (unnervingly so, actually). I'd say that adult ones remind me of a three-year old child.

Harlow separated newborn monkeys from their mothers, and cared for their physical needs. They had ample nutrition, bedding, warmth, et cetera. However, the researchers noticed that the monkeys:

(a) were absolutely miserable. And not just that, but although all their physical needs were taken care of, they weren't surviving well past the first few days of life. (This has also been documented in human babies, and it's called failure to thrive and I'll talk about it a bit later).

(b) showed a strong attachment to the gauze pads used to cover the floor, and decided to investigate.

So, they decided to provide a surrogate 'mother.' Two, actually. Mother #1 was basically a heated fuzzy doll that was nice for the monkeys to cuddle with. Mother #2 was the same, but not fuzzy and made of wire. Both provided milk. The result? The monkeys spent all their time cuddling and feeding from the fuzzy 'mother.' Perhaps not surprising.

What Harlow decided next, is that one of the hallmarks being attached to your caregiver is seeking hugs and reassurance from them when frightened. So, when the monkeys were presented with something scary, they'd go straight to the cloth mother and ignore the wire one. Not only that, but when placed in an unfamiliar environment, if the cloth mother was present, the monkeys would be much calmer.

In a follow-up experiment, Harlow decided to see if there was some sort of sensitive period by introducing both 'mothers' to monkeys who had been raised in isolation for 250 days. Guess what?

The initial reaction of the monkeys to the alterations was one of extreme disturbance. All the infants screamed violently and made repeated attempts to escape the cage whenever the door was opened. They kept a maximum distance from the mother surrogates and exhibited a considerable amount of rocking and crouching behavior, indicative of emotionality.

Yikes. So, at first Harlow thought that they'd passed some kind of sensitive period for socialization. But after a day or two they calmed down and started chilling out with the cloth mother like the other monkeys did. But here's a weird thing:

That the control monkeys develop affection or love for the cloth mother when she is introduced into the cage at 250 days of age cannot be questioned. There is every reason to believe, however, that this interval of delay depresses the intensity of the affectional response below that of the infant monkeys that were surrogate-mothered from birth onward

All these things... attachment, affection, love, seeking comfort ... are mostly learned behaviours.

Over.

Orphanages, institutionalized childcare, and why affection is a need, not an extra.

His face is lit the exact same was as Coulson’s was in COS (half-light, half-dark), and I said I was going to talk about this in Part 3. I think perhaps it's intended to make Fiennes-Tiffin look more evil or menacing, but I'm going to quite deliberately misinterpret it.

Now, for some context, Dumbledore has just (kind of) burned his wardrobe, ratted out his stealing habit, and (in the books only, they really took a pair of scissors to this scene) told him he needs to go apologize and return everything and Dumbledore will know if he doesn't, and, well, Tom's not exactly a happy bugger about it.

But interestingly, in the books, this is when we start to see Tom's 'persona,' aka his mask, start to come into play. Whereas before, he was screaming, howling, and generally freaking out, here, he starts to hide his emotions -- in essence, obscure his true self under a shadow. So this scene is really the reverse of Coulson's in COS.

And perhaps I'm reading wayyy too much into this, but I can't help but notice that Coulson's hair is parted opposite to Fiennes-Tiffin's, and the opposite sides of their faces are shadowed, too.

Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look. "Yes, I suppose so, sir," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.

Riddle did not look remotely abashed; he was still staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last he said in a colorless voice, "Yes, sir."

Here's an article from The Atlantic on Romanian orphanages in the 1980s, when the dictator, Ceausescu, basically forced people to have as many children as possible and funnel them into institutionalized 'childcare', and it's absolutely heartbreaking.

There's not a whole lot of information out there on British orphanages in the 30s' and 40s', but given that people back then thought you just had to keep children on a strict schedule and feed them, it wouldn't have a whole lot better.

The only thing I've found is this, and it's not super promising.

The most important study informing the criteria for contemporary nosologies, was a study by Barbara Tizard and her colleagues of young children being raised in residential nurseries in London (Tizard, 1977). These nurseries had lower child to caregiver ratios than many previous studies of institutionalized children. Also, the children were raised in mixed aged groups and had adequate books and toys available. Nevertheless, caregivers were explicitly discouraged from forming attachments to the children in their care.

Here's a fairly recent paper that I think gives a good summary: Link

Here, they describe the responses to the Strange Situation test (which tests a child's attachment to their caregiver).

We found that 100% of the community sample received a score of “5,” indicating fully formed attachments, whereas only 3% of the infants living in institutions demonstrated fully formed attachments. The remaining 97% showed absent, incomplete, or odd and abnormal attachment behaviors.

Bowlby and Ainsworth, who did the initial study, thought that children would always attach to their caregivers, regardless of neglect or abuse. But some infants don't attach (discussed along with RAD in Part 2).

Here's a really good review paper on attachment disorders in currently or formerly institutionalized children : Link

Core features of RAD in young children include the absence of focused attachment behaviors directed towards a preferred caregiver, failure to seek and respond to comforting when distressed, reduced social and emotional reciprocity, and disturbances of emotion regulation, including reduced positive affect and unexplained fearfulness or irritability.

Which all sounds a lot like Tom in this scene. The paper also discusses neurological effects, like atypical EEG power distribution (aka brain waves), which can correlate with 'indiscriminate' behavior and poor inhibitory control; which makes sense for a kid who, oh, I don't know, hung another kid's rabbit because they were angry.

Furthermore...

...those children with more prolonged institutional rearing showed reduced amygdala discrimination and more indiscriminate behavior.

This again, makes a ton of sense for Tom's psychological profile, because the amygdala (which is part of the limbic system, which regulates emotions) plays a major role in fear, anger, anxiety, and aggression, especially with respect to learning, motivation and memory.

So, I agree completely that Tom needed a lot of help, especially given the fact that he spent eleven years in an orphanage (longer than the Bucharest study I was referring to), and Dumbledore wasn't exactly understanding of his situation, and probably didn't realise what a dramatic effect the orphanage had on Tom, and given the way he talks to Tom, probably treated him as if he were a kid who grew up in a healthy environment.

In case you are still unconvinced that hugging is that important, there's a famous 1944 study conducted on 40 newborn human infants to see what would happen if their physical needs (fed, bathed, diapers changed) were provided for with no affection. The study had to be stopped because half the babies died after four months. Affection leads to the production of hormones and boosts the immune system, which increases survival, and that is why we hug children and babies should not be in orphanages. They are supposed to be hugged, all the time. I can't find the citation right now, I'll add it later if I find it.

But I think it's vastly unrealistic to say that Dumbledore, who grew up during the Victorian Era, would have any grasp of this and I don't think he was actively malicious towards Tom.

Was Tom Riddle failed by institutional childcare? Absolutely.

Were the adults in his life oblivious to his situation? Probably.

Do the shitty things that happened to Tom excuse the murders he committed, and are they anyone's fault but his own? No. At the end of the day, Tom made all the wrong choices.

And, for what it's worth, I think (film) Dumbledore (although he expresses the same sentiment in more words in the books) wishes he could go back in time and have helped Tom.

"Draco. Years ago, I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #character study #albus dumbledore

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Vantage Point.

Commissioned by the very patient, very lovely @yandere-vale.

Word Count: 5.1k.

Pairing: Yandere!Glimmer/Reader (She-Ra).

TW: Fem!Reader, Aged Up Characters, Imprisonment, Implied Kidnapping, Isolation, Emotional Abuse, Slight Infantalization, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Past Injury.

At least the view was nice, in Bright Moon.

You should know. You’d had plenty of time to take it in, by now, not that a single glance wouldn’t have been enough to convince any battle-weary refugee that the destination was worth the tiring journey. The jutting canyons, the darkened forests, the permanent twilight painted across skies so stunning, the bay surrounding Glimmer’s kingdom couldn’t rest until it was beautiful enough to reflect them – it was pretty, you could admit that, and it was nice to finally have enough time to take it all in. It was a small silver lining, running thin enough to border on the verge of complete nonexistence, but it was a silver lining all the same. You were allowed to appreciate it. You’d give yourself that. You liked being able to appreciate it.

You just wished you didn’t have to do so from such a distant vantage point.

It might’ve been a tower. You thought it was, at least, from what you could tell from your perch at its peak. Tall, looming, just as rounded and just as seamless as every other building on Bright Moon’s shores. There was no ladder, no staircase, no way down beyond finding the nearest ledge and hoping for the best, and if there was anything to discover beyond the confines of your bedroom, there certainly wasn’t a way to access it. You’d already tried, searched for hidden doors and passageways, tried every possible escape route Glimmer might’ve overlooked, spent a memorable week attempting to break through the solid stone floor, but it was fruitless, pointless, an effort you could only look back on with resent for your own naivety. There was no way for you to get out, not without risking your own life, in the process, and there wasn’t a way for any would-be savior to get in. You were trapped, isolated, cut off from everything you’d ever called your home. Cut off from everyone you’d ever called your friend.

Except her, obviously.

But you’d never made the mistake of calling Glimmer your friend.

You could hear her, your routine silence broken by slow footsteps, but you didn’t look, you didn’t bother to. You’d already been sitting there for hours, perched inside of a carved-out windowsill, admiring everything that you couldn’t have, not anymore, not after Glimmer decided you didn’t deserve it as much as she deserved you. No, you didn’t acknowledge her, you didn’t let yourself acknowledge her, but that never made a difference. She was already approaching you, already behind you, an arm soon wrapped around your torso and a chest slotted against your back, pulling you into something you might’ve called a hug, if she thought to let go. You bit back your rising complaints, swallowing the urge to shove her away and give her another reason to think of you as immature, irresponsible, incapable, but if she appreciated your self-restraint, she clearly didn’t think it was worth her praise.

Glimmer only sighed, shaking her head at your absentee reaction, more than content to act like she couldn’t imagine why imprisonment might lead to some lingering resentment. “Still busy sulking, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer, not at first, keeping your eyes on the scenery below. You didn’t like it when she got so close, not after everything she’d done. You didn’t like that you had to let her get so closer, or risk spending another month in somewhere far less pleasant than a homey, familiar, inescapable tower. “I’m not sulking,” You mumbled, fighting not to curl into yourself. “You keep me here, imprisoned and alone, and you know I don’t like it. I don’t have to pretend I’m happy to see you.”

“No, but it might be nice if you tried.” There was a laugh, a squeeze, but she pulled away quickly, sliding into the space next to you and forcing you to shrink further into the nearest wall, forcing to you avoid her, if only because she refused to give you the space to reach out on your own. “You can’t act like I haven’t given you plenty of chances to make yourself happy,” She went on, her tone still light-hearted, vaguely amused. She wasn’t taking this seriously. You doubted she would, until you said something to upset her. “It’s not my fault that you refuse to accept my gifts without a fight.”

You didn’t have to ask what she meant. The evidence was still scattered around your bedroom, found in torn lace and ripped silk, crushed flowers and chipped gems, neglected toys and trinkets she'd offered, half-heartedly, attempting to fill she'd left in your life. On good days, you could ignore it, pretend they were meant for someone else, anyone but you. On most days, felt sick at the thought of indulging Glimmer's one-sided show of kindness.

“Presents won’t make this bearable. I don’t need distractions.” You let yourself exhale, leaning back, your posture just slack enough to make the idea of continuing this conversation tolerable. Something shot through the flesh below your shoulder blade, a single strike of agony before the feeling faded into a steady throb. A reminder of a wound that wasn’t quite healed, but one you’d already disregarded, nonetheless. “I need to go outside. I need you to let me go. I need you to stop acting like you’re doing this for my safety.” Glimmer flinched, her jaw locking into place, but you ignored the small pang of guilt that followed. Good. If she expected you to find a way to live with this, she could find a way to live with the discomfort. “I was doing fine before I met you, and I’d still be doing fine, without your help. It’s not fair to assume I’d—”

“Really?” Glimmer cut you off, any trace of her levity gone. “Are you sure you can’t come up with a single reason I might be hesitant to let you take care of yourself?”

Immediately, you fell quiet, turning away yet again. This time, Glimmer didn’t seem to mind your silence.

“Believe it or not, I’m not trying to make you miserable,” She said, not for the first time. Like you were supposed to believe it. Like she could expect you to believe it. “I just want to keep you safe. If you have to be unhappy for me to do that, then so be it.”

And, just like that, she was gone.

For a moment, you almost missed her.

You didn’t break her next gift.

You wanted to. The temptation was always there, you doubted you’d ever grow fond enough of Glimmer for it to completely go away, but you ignored it, brushed it off, pushed it just far enough down to pretend it didn’t exist at all. It helped that she’d given you a book, this time. Usually, her gifts were materialistic, unsubstantial, things that were better at making you look cute and harmless than helping you pass the time. She hadn’t left, yet. That helped too. You still had bruises from the last time you didn’t give her rage time to cool, and you weren’t eager to reopen old wounds.

Books could be used. Books could be read. Books were heavy, and they meant you could do something, if only sit passively and take in a story that wasn’t yours. That was more credit than Glimmer had ever given you before. Part of you worried it was more credit than she’d ever give you again.

That might’ve been why you asked. You wanted logic. If there was a method to her madness, there would be a way to predict what comes next, to try to guess if there was a reason she’d done this at all. You wanted there to be a reason. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to use this?”

Glimmer didn’t look up from the letter in her hands, multiple pages of important political correspondence, you were sure. She’d taken your bed, when she first arrived, and you’d hid yourself away at the vanity on the other side of the room. A part of you hated it, how she dominated what was supposed to be your space so easily. Another part of you was just glad to have a reason to feel like you actually had a space you felt was yours, if only when someone else invaded it.

Her response came in the form of a hum, light and curious, then a question. “Use it?”

“You know,” You started, before you were entirely sure what you wanted to say. “To escape, or something. I might still find a way to.”

Glimmer laughed, and suddenly, you knew why she was such an unopposed ruler. By the time she actually spoke, you’d already begun to regret saying anything at all. “Planning to beat the walls in with a paperback? I think I’d have to hand over my crown, too, if you managed that.”

Your face burnt, and your grip around the novel tightened. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve reconsidered your decision to keep this one. “I could always attack you.”

“Do you want me to take it away?”

“Please don’t.” You spoke quickly, as softly as you could, but your panic was still audible, the rush of anxiety you wished you didn’t have to give weight, after so many months of letting your instincts lay dormant. “I just… I guess I just want to know why you didn’t do this earlier. You’ve always given me clothes and that kind of stuff, and this seems more—”

Glimmer didn’t let you finish. She rarely did, when you spoke for any longer than she cared to let you. “C’mere, angel. You shouldn’t be so far away.”

It wasn’t a demand, not really, not when she said it so casually. It wasn’t, but you treated it like one, pushing yourself to your feet and reluctantly approaching her, your eyes never leaving the ground. In your defense, you didn’t fall into her arms, choosing to sit on the edge of your bed and retain a fraction of your dignity, but your aversion didn’t matter. All it took was a strong arm wrapped around your waist, a light tug, and you were tucked into her side, regardless, your head resting on her chest and your legs folded underneath you. For once, you were glad she kept you so isolated. You wouldn’t have been able to live with the embarrassment, if anyone else was around to see you like this.

“Everything I do, I do because it’s what I think is best for you.” There was a pause, like this meant anything. Like she thought she was comforting you. Like this could be comforting, to anyone who didn’t share in her twisted fantasy. “Don’t worry about the details, that’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to let me take care of. It won’t do you any good to overwork yourself, like that.” Her hand fell to your waist, signaling for you to agree. You managed a quick nod, and Glimmer went on, pleased. “Just sit back and relax. No need to worry your pretty little head over anything I think you do or don’t deserve.”

Your throat felt dry. The sheets below you felt scratchy, uncomfortable, like you were sitting on sandpaper rather than satin. You wanted to get up. You wanted to, but you didn’t. “I don’t… I mean, you’re probably right, but—”

“I am right.” She was laughing, reaching over to cup your cheek and tilt your head back, her lips soon pressed against the top of your head, but the gesture was hollow, it felt hollow, and you could’ve hated yourself for ever trying to give it meaning. Glimmer was good at that, making you feel like you were paranoid, too preoccupied with yourself to ever see the bigger picture. She was good at making you feel like you were in the wrong. She was good at making you feel like you’d always been wrong, even if you knew she couldn’t be right. “You just need a little help, that’s all. You were too reckless, when you came to me, you just got yourself into too much trouble. I just want to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt, anymore.”

You believed her. You could believe her. If you wanted to, you could make yourself believe her.

You’d have to believe her, if you ever wanted to survive what came next.

It felt like fire.

In your veins, in your blood, under your skin and spreading, every time you moved or shifted or took a breath deeper than the shallow, airy inhales you’d gotten used to, by now. It didn’t have any right to hurt as much as it did, honestly. The wound was old, mostly healed, a shadow of a scar of a lasting injury that’d already overstayed its welcome, but it felt like something new, something fresh, something that you’d gotten the other day, rather than so many years ago. Something raw, something bloody.

Something that Glimmer was making worse with every passing moment, whether or not she meant to.

She was trying to help. You reminded yourself of that. She didn’t trust a medic with you, and you’d had to beg her not to use the temperamental healing magic that so often left much more able-bodied soldiers in much worse condition than simple, external wounds could ever achieve, but you almost wished you hadn’t bothered. She must’ve been using the wrong ointment, the wrong elixir. She must’ve been being too harsh, or too gentle, or messing with something that made flesh and tissue smolder where it shouldn’t have, the pain vivid enough to make you curl into yourself, sink into the mattress, try to escape something that you already knew couldn’t be as bad as you were making it out to be, in your own mind. Whatever she was doing, it hu-

“Does it hurt, love?” Glimmer asked, slowly.

“It doesn’t,” You answered, without hesitation. “It just… It stings more than I expected it to.”

You tried to sound confident, but your voice wavered as her fingertips skirted over scarred tissue, your fists curling around the pillow you were clinging to, despite the way you knew it must’ve looked. Her bed was so much softer than yours, everything in her chambers so much more plush, but that made sense. She was royalty, and you were her prisoner. Your bedroom wasn’t simple, not by any means, but Glimmer's was…

She was a queen. You shouldn’t forget that, however convenient she made it to try. She was a queen, and you weren’t.

“If you’d let me tend to it earlier, it wouldn’t be so bad.” She was scolding you, but playfully, tenderly enough to let you calm down, some of the tension in your rigid form dissolving as you crossed your arms under your head and tried to relax. There was a moment of reprieve, the sound of glass clinking against glass, and a wave of cold air rushed over your injury, dulling any lingering pain into an unpleasant awareness. You would’ve thanked her for it, if the thought did leave a bitter taste on your tongue. You might’ve, still, if she hadn’t chosen to keep going before you could say anything at all. “Count yourself lucky it’s not infected. It’s almost as bad as it was, when we first met.”

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Or it might’ve been, you couldn’t really remember. It’d been so long since it was first inflicted, since the last spark of a war that’d spanned longer than your lifetime died out and you were left with the scars to prove you’d survived it, even if the majority of your hometown hadn’t been able to recover in the years that followed. You could barely walk when you first arrived in Bright Moon, but that might’ve been the exhaustion, or the stress, or some other vague, abstract concept that’d been just apparent enough for Glimmer to catch and take pity on you, despite the horror’s she must’ve faced on her own.

You stopped yourself before your thoughts could spiral any further. She pitied you, but you wouldn’t pity her. You refused to. You’d seen where it led, what kind of obsession it could create, and you didn’t want that. You wouldn’t let yourself believe you did.

“But it’s going to get better, right?” You couldn’t keep that hopeful lilt out of your voice, an equal mix of manufactured positivity and genuine optimism, despite yourself. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? So you can take care of me?”

There was a brief silence, then a small chuckle. Your wound felt warm, again, smoldering around the edges, and for a moment, you almost found it reassuring. “Of course,” She agreed, but she was still laughing. You wished she would stop. “That, and because I like having you around.”

It was almost funny.

You thought you’d be relieved, when she was finally honest with you.

It hurt, again. It must’ve been the paste she was using, something thick and elastic that kept a cluster of soft, generously applied bandages plastered to your skin. It was far from comfortable, too tight in places, too loose in others, uneven in a way that meant you’d have to tear off what you could and wrap your chest more thoroughly in an hour, at most, but you forced yourself to smile, to sit up and stretch as if doing so didn’t leave something in your spine twisted and cramped. You could complain, if you wanted to, you doubted Glimmer would be that petty, but there wasn’t a point. It was easier to keep her happy, with or without any caveats. You could live with the mild pain, for now.

Glimmer rewarded you with a small grin, a gentle hand on your cheek when you turned to face her. “My brave little sweetheart,” She started, nearly cooing. You tried to tell yourself it was unintentional. “You should probably rest, I might not be able to help if you make things any worse. I’ll take you back to your—”

It was a flare of panic, sudden and unmistakable. A shot of anxiety, a sudden burst of pure dread – something so mindless and so overwhelming, you were throwing yourself at her before you had a chance to think better of it, burying your face in her chest and latching on to her shirt, letting her wrap her arms around you when she recovered from any short-lived shock. “Do I… do I have to go back?” You managed, reluctantly. You didn’t want to ask, you didn’t want to fall so far, but you couldn’t go back to that tower. You just couldn’t. “Please, you can restrain me again, I just don’t want to—”

You were cut off by a squeeze to your side, an idle chuckle. You already knew what she would say, but the way she paused still made you hesitate. It made you feel unsure, obedient, like anything she’d done had ever mattered to you.

Like you were starting to need her as much as she claimed to need you.

“All you had to do was ask.”

It took you three hours to pick the lock on Glimmer’s door.

Three weeks, technically, if you counted the time you spent observing, watching, waiting until she trusted you enough to leave you to rest in her palace, rather than sending you back to that freezing, forsaken tower. It was a frustrating precaution, molding yourself into something submissive, begging to spend just one more night in her bedroom rather than your own, but you needed to know Glimmer’s schedule, the rotation of her guards, what you had to work with and how many flimsy, flat trinkets you’d be able to get your hands on before Glimmer started to question your new fascination with hairpins and letter openers. You needed to know who else was in the palace, who else you could get to before you were caught.

You needed to know who to run to, when you finally got out of the softened, insufferable cage Glimmer kept you locked inside of.

Three hours. On and off, one minute at a time, every little creak and jolt and tell-tale snap serving as another reason to hold your breath, to stop and listen, to shut your eyes and hope you’d never have to do this again. You could’ve cried when the lock finally gave away, when the polished marble of her door finally slackened and relaxed, falling open without a struggle. There weren’t any guards outside, you timed it so there wouldn’t be, but you doubted you would’ve cared if there were. You could already hear footsteps against solid tile, and hope flared in your chest before you could think to press it down, bright and burning and overflowing as you took in your soon-to-be savior – a girl, a few years older. A woman. Her name came to you in a moment.

Catra, a warrior, a war hero.

Someone who could help you.

You didn’t throw yourself at her, not like you threw yourself at Glimmer. You didn’t have to, you didn’t want to sacrifice your pride like that, not anymore, but that didn’t stop you from grinning like an idiot, from stumbling over your own feet as you sprinted in Catra’s direction, barely listening to her stifled swearing before it came to a jarring stop. You might’ve said something. You might’ve just opened your mouth and closed it again. You might’ve stuttered and mumbled and blabbered incoherently until her expression shifted, gave away, more out of relief than kindness. More out of understanding than any real empathy.

She cut you off, and something in your heart clenched painfully.

“You’re Glimmer’s, right?”

You shook your head. You would’ve denied it, but you couldn’t remember how to speak. Part of you wondered if you’d ever really known how to, at all.

“Dressed like it,” Catra went on, rolling her eyes, her tone only a touch above sardonic. You didn’t have to throw yourself at her – she was already taking you by the wrist, dragging you in the same direction she’d been heading, regardless, never giving you the choice not to follow. “C’mon, I don’t want to deal with Sparkle’s tantrums, today. You’re coming to the war room.”

You didn’t get a chance to refuse. You doubted she would’ve listened if you did, but you could’ve tried, you should’ve said something. It would’ve felt right, if nothing else, to put your foot down, to make a run for it, to tell someone what Glimmer had done to you, even if it was starting to seem like Catra might not make much of a shoulder to cry on. Even in the moment, you knew you’d regret it, but…

But, you couldn’t bring yourself to do much of anything.

You didn’t know what else you’d expected, honestly.

The palace was bigger than it looked, from your usual vantage point. The adrenaline had started to die down by the time you reached the ‘war room’, leaving you drained, tired, dragging your feet as Catra tugged you through a door twice your height, the guards that stood on either side of the entryway barely batting an eye at your bare feet and disheveled appearance. The ceilings were too high, the gold accents just a little too polished, everything too bright despite the lack of an apparent light source. It hurt, in a way. You wondered if it would hurt this much if you actually got outside.

Catra didn’t introduce you. She didn’t have to, not when you were abandoned as quickly as you were brought in, left to stand at the head of their table, tense and alone, as Catra drew attention to herself, instead, clearing her throat as she approached the other Princesses. You recognized most of them, anyone would – Mermista, barely glancing over you before she lost interest, Perfuma, kind enough to try to smile in your direction, and Adora, the Adora, She-Ra, still dressed in full armor, her arms crossed over the rounded table, her lips pressed into a thin frown and her expression…

And her expression identical to the one Glimmer wore, back when youstill had the option to look at other people.

It hurt, obviously, but you didn’t have much time to linger on the festering sting. You were already being lifted off your feet, a pair of strong hands or… claws, rather, clamping around your biceps and pinning your arms to your sides, squeezing so tight, you could hear something in your torso crack. You didn’t have to guess at a name. Even if you couldn’t see Scorpia’s face, her voice was enough, light and jovial, as if you hadn’t flinched away as she touched you. As if you weren’t close to tears. “Catra brought a friend!” You could’ve cried. You might’ve, if your embarrassment hadn’t been so much less ignorable than your mounting trepidation. “Finally, I was starting to think our wildcat would never break out of her shell. This is great, right, Adora?”

“It’s perfect,” Adora replied, obviously upset, but Catra only shrugged her off, draping herself over Adora’s shoulders she scoffed, keeping her glare centered on you. “You’re late. Is this supposed to be an excuse?”

“This,” She said, gesturing in your direction, “is supposed to be one of Glimmer’s. I wouldn’t have mess with it if I had a choice, but she looked lost, and you know how Glimmer would get if she wandered off.”

There was a huff, a chuckle, a mumbled ‘you know I’m right’, but it was hard to listen, it was hard to care. Your vision was blurring, your throat tightening up, but you fought back the tears as well as you could, knowing it’d only make your frustration that much worse. You didn’t want to make yourself look helpless, not here, not surrounded by people who were obviously so much stronger than you, but you couldn’t hold your hands steady, you couldn’t stop the way your breath hitched while it was still in your lungs. You wanted to hide. You wanted to run. You wanted to go back to your tower, and you hated yourself for it. “Please, I… I’m a captive, I shouldn’t—”

“Ah, why didn’t you say so sooner? Glimmer must be worried sick.” It was Perfuma, this time, still watching from a distance. You couldn’t tell if she’d heard you, but you choose to believe she hadn’t. It’d be easier, if you assumed no one was listening to you at all. “Scorpia, you’re not holding her too tightly, are you? It’d be a shame if there were bruises, after we finish.”

“Who, me? You know I’d never hurt a fly,” Scorpia laughed, tightening her grip. You made a breathy, pitiful sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, but neither seemed to notice. Neither seemed to care. You weren’t sure which you would’ve preferred, anymore. “Even if this one’s a little more… fleshy, than what I’m used to.”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell her she would leave bruises, that she wasn’t being gentle, but you didn’t have time, not before Adora spoke up, her posture a fraction more relaxed than it had been, a minute ago. “Don’t worry about leaving marks,” Adora cut in, nonchalantly. She had an arm strung around Catra’s waist, now, but she was still looking at you. If you’d been a touch more desperate, you might’ve thanked her. If you’d felt any smaller, you might’ve asked her to stop. “Glimmer’s been talking about this for months. I haven’t seen anyone that excited since…” She trailed off, throwing a glance in Catra’s direction, earning a wicked grin in response. For a moment, you wondered why you’d ever thought either one of them would try to help you. “Since someone realized she didn’t have to wait for us to fight to get her claws out.”

Perfuma rolled her eyes. Scorpia groaned. You wanted to ask what she meant. You wanted to scream for her to go on, to tell you what that was supposed to mean, to just go on until you could pick one of the awful, dark, twisted thoughts swirling around in your head and let that shove you off the edge before anything worse could. You had to know what was going to happen to you. You didn’t want to know, you didn’t want to anything, but you had to find out. It was a matter of survival. It was a matter of life and death. It was something you needed, and for a second, you thought you might be able to vocalize that. You thought you might be able to say it. You thought you might be able to actually say it.

Then, a familiar voice called your name, and again, you lost your chance to do much of anything at all.

Scorpia didn’t have to be told to put you down. By the time you could think to ask, you were already back on your feet, your knees threatening to buckle as you struggled to keep yourself upright. You could’ve collapsed. A part of you wanted to, most of you wanted to, but it only would’ve made things worse, it only would’ve made you seem more childish, even you doubted anyone was paying attention to you, anymore. No, Scorpia had gone back to the other Princesses, Catra and Adora still preoccupied with each other, and you were left alone, shaking, at the mercy of the woman currently positioning herself in front of you, cupping your cheek, tilting back your head as you fought not to push her away. You didn’t want her to touch you.

You weren’t really sure what you did want, anymore.

“Poor little thing,” She said, her voice already soft, sweet. She might be angry, later on, she probably would be, but you tried not to think about that. You could only be thankful she wasn’t, right now. “I think you’ve had enough fun, for today. All of this is clearly too much for you to handle.” She stopped, leaning down, her lips barely brushing against your forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was close to one. It didn’t hurt, and that was all you could bring yourself to care about. “Are you ready to go home?”

She might’ve been talking about her room. She might’ve been talking about the tower. She might’ve been talking about something else entirely – a dungeon, a prison cell, a cramped, darkened room you wouldn’t be able to slip out of quite as easily. You didn’t know. You should’ve, but you didn’t.

“I…” You were barely able to whisper. It was pathetic, honestly, but you forced yourself to go on. It would be worse, if you drew it out. It would be unbearable, if you had to stay here.

You just wanted to be alone, even if you had to be alone with Glimmer.

“I’m ready.”

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere commissions #commissions #writing commissions #yandere fantasy #yandere fanfiction #yanderecore #yancore

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azucanela · 4 years ago

Text

interlude

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader. CAN BE READ AS A ONE SHOT.

warnings: cursing. otherwise, fluff kinda.

word count: 3k

summary: the history of y/n l/n and bakugou katsuki. or at least, the beginning of their history.

series masterlist

IT SMELLS OF COFFEE AND PASTRIES, it’s a smell Y/N greets each day with joy. Everytime, she found herself grateful that she had elected to work at the café, seeing as it did have a few added benefits— like a free drink and pastry each time she worked, and the salary. And in Y/N’s eyes, baking was a pretty valuable skill, seeing as she couldn’t cook without destroying a kitchen. Though she had tried in the past, most of her attempts hadn’t really ended well, which is why she stuck with baking.

Of course, it was a tad difficult rushing to the café each day after school, especially since it was on the opposite part of her area, but Y/N had found that the cash she made was worth it. And though the walk home could be considered dangerous— well, with a quirk like hers that wasn’t necessarily a huge worry. Although Y/N didn’t really enjoy using her quirk for such things seeing as that would likely result in jail.

She actually intended to apply to UA this year, though if she did get in,Y/N wasn’t necessarily sure she was prepared to give up her job at the café. She’d made friends with a lot of the employees, and the owners as well. It was a nice, local business, and everyone that worked there was kind(for the most part, sometimes the teasing she recieved was a bit annoying). Most of the regulars were fairly sweet as well. Now that Y/N had switched shifts though, she wasn’t necessarily sure what to expect.

Which is why this blond boy had caught her off guard.

“Medium hot chocolate and,” he places one of few bags of chips the café sells, onto the counter, “this please.” He grumbles out. All the chips are lined up on a small rack, and Y/N can’t help but find it a tad odd that he’d selected the spicy variant. Or the fact that he’d selected chips in general seeing as that was odd to pair was with hot chocolate in the first place.

Looking between the chips and him, her brows furrowed temporarily as she said, “odd combination but alright. Your total is $7.02.”

The boy looks to her incredulously, and looking at him now Y/N realizes he seems around her age. “Odd? You’re odd.” Comes his response, tone rather accusatory. It’s an elementary insult, and Y/N probably would’ve laughed at the fact had she not been extremely confused as to why he had even taken offense to her statement. Who has a sweet drink with spicy food? That was just plain abnormal.

“Excuse me?” Y/N asked, watching as he practically glared holes into the cash he placed onto the counter.

Rolling his eyes, the blond looked to her with his eyes narrowed, “aren’t you a little young to be working?” His eyes dart around the shop, and Y/N elects not to tell him that her coworkers are currently in the back finishing up some of their more popular pastries as she straightens her posture from behind the counter.

“Aren’t you a little old to be drinking hot chocolate?” Granted they were probably the same age and Y/N drank hot chocolate frequently herself, but Y/N was starting to get annoyed. And if he wanted to pester her, why shouldn’t she do the same?

Stupid gremlin. The customer is not always right, and Y/N would be damned if she let him believe that.

His mouth gapes open at her words, and she can feel the warm of his hands as she drops the change into the palm of them— his gloves seem to have holes, causing her brows to furrow as he replies, “anyone can have hot chocolate, you heathen.”

Y/N is suddenly reminded that the customer is always right before offering him a sarcastic smile and saying, “well, your hot chocolate will be done soon.” Picking up one of the cups to her side and grabbing a marker, she goes to write his name only to realize she hadn’t asked for one. Meaning she would be forced to interact with the boy again, much to her dismay.

Cursing under her breath Y/N calls out, “hey— hey? Hey blondie!”

The boy has barely made his way to the waiting area of the café, but Y/N is grateful that this isn’t one of their busy hours and nobody else is inside as he whips his head around, practically fuming as he asks, “the hell you call me?”

“I need to know your name, blondie.” Comes Y/N’s response, gesturing to the cup in her hand. He seems to get the message, and Y/N has a feeling he’s questioning her ability as a barista as he looks between her and the cup.

The boy scowls, huffing in annoyance as he replies, “Bakugou.” Scrunching up his nose, he looks away, settling at one of the tables and adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. His foot tapping rather rapidly at the floor, Y/N imagines he wants to leave as soon as possible.

Of course, Y/N finds herself calling out for blondie rather than Bakugou, just to spite him. The boy likely would’ve snatched the drink out of her hand had it not been for the fact that boiling hot liquids tended to be dangerous.

Evidently, the hot chocolate was about as hot as his temper at this point. Y/N wonders if she would feel that same rage by touching him, though she quickly pushes that thought to the back of her mind when she realizes she doesn’t really want to feel angry, nor does she want to touch the hot headed boy.

That would probably prove fatal for her.

APPARENTLY BAKUGOU COMES OFTEN for his hot chocolate. Sometimes he sits by the window of the café, eating his stupid chips. And yet, Y/N is intrigued by his presence, he seems interesting and from the looks of his textbook, he’s trying to get into UA too. Studying hard to ensure he passes the academic aspects of the exam. Y/N had done the same, and there was no denying that UA was a prestigious school from the looks of their courses. And well, attending UA was practically guaranteed success.

Maybe it’s because Bakugou is a questionable person, or because she wants to know more about her possible competitor, but Y/N finds herself coming to his lonesome table by the window, two plates in hand that she places— a lot more roughly than necessary— onto the table, before plopping down into the seat opposite of him. This seems to startle him, as he jumps in his seat, brows furrowing together at the sight of her as he asks, “the hell you want?”

Y/N simply shrugs, leaning back in her chair, “I’m on break and I’m bored.”

“So you decided to bother me?”

Okay, maybe the boy had been working a bit too much and Y/N had become a little concerned, but that didn’t matter because he was still annoying. It’s just that in the past two months she’d seen him more frequently, and learnt a bit more about him so… Bakugou had become tolerable. So Y/N finds herself replying, “yes.” She pushes the plate towards him, “now try something other than those chips.”

He looks between her and the pastry she’s set before him, a simple muffin, and Y/N wonders if he thinks she’s poisoned it. Although, with their track record, it’s a reasonable assumption. That doesn’t stop her from gesturing to it, looking to him expectantly. In response, Bakugou looks at her dully, though he picks up the muffin and takes a bite of it. His eyes seem to widen and Y/N finds herself grinning.

“Shocked I didn’t poison you?” She sits up in her seat, leaning forwards, “was it good?”

His cheeks seem to redden as he looks away, “it was alright.” Comes Bakugou’s response, though he takes another bite of the pastry.

“I like to think my pastries are better than alright.”

Bakugou looks to her, tilting his head as he asks, “you cook?”

Y/N shakes her head, laughing slightly as she replies, “absolutely not. I would probably burn down the kitchen. Baking is a necessary skill here though.” That much was definitely true, she had never been the best when it came to cooking, and it was certainly a downfall of hers seeing as Y/N could not live off pastries.

“Well, I do.”

Y/N tilts her head at him, confusion clear in her face as she asks, “you what?”

“I cook, idiot.” Bakugou replies, clearly frustrated— or more accurately, flustered— that he’d had to clarify.

Y/N simply grins before saying, “perhaps I could judge your cooking sometime then.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, simply glancing to her momentarily before his eyes return to the textbook before him. Though he doesn’t make any attempts to shoo her from the area, causing Y/N to smile as she takes her own plate of food and looks out the window.

It becomes a more frequent thing, Bakugou doesn’t bother to look up from his textbook anymore, though he does eat the pastries Y/N brings along with her as the pair sits in silence. It’s a peaceful thing that Y/N finds herself adoring despite their first interaction. This certainly isn’t how she expected her relationship with the boy to go. But hey, friendship comes from the weirdest of places, right? And Bakugou makes good company when he’s not yelling and screaming at you with a variety of— empty— threats.

It’s quite a curious friendship indeed.

Even the rest of her co-workers take notice of the pair, leading them to ask her… equally curious questions. Or more accurately— nosy questions. Embarrassing ones like those that your relatives ask when they see you after a long while.

“I’m not even in high school yet!” Y/N cried out, scrunching her nose in disgust as she swats away the hand of Lily, she’s a bit older than Y/N. “I do not want to date Bakugou you hag.” Y/N almost cringes at the fact that Bakugou’s language has begun to rub off on her, though she simply inhales deeply as she glares at Lily. Though she seems to be rather pleased ith Y/N’s reaction.

Rosalyn, one of the full time and adult employees, steps in at this. Laughing at her words as she rests a hand on her shoulder, “be kind to Lily. She’s just curious. After all, you do spend quite a bit of time together.” She raises a brow, eyes drifting towards Bakugou, who is seated at his usual spot, “are you sure you don’t—”

Y/N can feel her cheeks warm, gently pushing Rosalyn’s hand from her shoulder as she looks away from the pair. “He’s my friend, and that’s all he ever will be.” She grumbled out, “if anything he’s more of a rival.”

“Have you ever tried to touch him and find out how he feels about you?” Lily asks, a cruel grin on her face. Y/N suddenly finds herself upset that she had ever explained her quirk to Lily in the first place, looking away from Lily as she swatted at her. It wasn’t the first time she’d made such a comment regarding Y/N’s quirk, Lily had even asked for quite a few favors, not that Y/N had ever indulged in her wishes.

“Absolutely not.” It’s an invasion of privacy, similar to if someone with a telepathy quirk searched your mind for your darkest secrets. Y/N wasn’t one to invade the privacy of others, much less Bakugou of all people. And she’d found that even if she swore she’d never do such a thing, there was always that underlying fear that she would in a person’s mind. Y/N could feel the anxiety even if she wasn’t touching them.

Sometimes Y/N wonders what Bakugou would do if he knew the semantics of her quirk. He’d seemed to have caught onto some aspects at least, but he’d never asked. Y/N was grateful for it, but she’d caught his curious glances at the gloves she’d worn since long before they’d met. And if she was honest, she was mainly attending UA to learn how to control her quirk. Being a hero had never really interested her.

And Y/N doesn’t need to look at Rosalyn to know she probably didn’t believe her words, but she decides this doesn’t matter, Y/N doesn’t have to prove anything, to anyone. After all, who’s to say she’ll even see Bakugou after the UA exam. Maybe she gets in and he doesn’t, or vice versa. And suddenly neither of them have the time to see one another.

Not that it mattered.

BAKUGOU DOESN’T EXPECT TO SEE Y/N entering UA, she’s actually speaking to Deku, helping him with his things alongside some other girl when he nearly trips and falls. Offering him a smile, Y/N picks up his journal— that had fallen from his bag— and hands it back to him. Bakugou finds himself observing the interaction in pure shock, his mind skipping right past the fact that Izuku was here because what the hell was Y/N doing here?

He watches as Izuku extends a hand to Y/N, though she simply waves him off as they continue to speak. So Bakugou’s eyes fell on her gloved hands, he’d never seen her without them. They seemed specifically made for her, and he had a feeling that it had to do with her quirk. Which was apparently good enough for her to get into UA High School. Bakugou had never asked about them, scared of crossing the invisible lines they’d drawn in the sand, but he’d always been curious.

Bakugou is still deep in thought when he realizes he doesn’t really have a chance to decide his next course of action, seeing as Izuku seems to notice him first, calling out— “Kacchan! Hi!” He’s waving rather enthusiastically beaming at him. And now Bakugou is left with dozens of questions because somehow Deku was here too.

His head whips over to Izuku, and Bakugou finds himself shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks away. Though Y/N seems to take note of this as she smiles, “Bakugou! I didn’t realize you had other friends.” Her words are teasing, which isn’t uncommon between them, but right now he’s not really sure about what to do because he was kind of hoping Y/N would never meet Izuku or vice versa.

So, Bakugou elects not to correct her, to tell her Deku is definitely not his friend, and instead looks to her incredulously, “why the hell didn’t you tell me you were applying to UA?” She’d definitely noticed after months of joining him in his corner of the café— where he had chosen to study since his mother could be a tad loud, which was rather distracting. Y/N had undoubtedly seen his textbook regarding the UA entrance exam so why hadn’t she mentioned she would be applying too?

Y/N simply shrugs, and she doesn’t seem to notice the look of shock on Izuku’s face as she responds, “I wanted it to be a surprise.” Bakugou is left speechless, and does nothing but watch as Y/N gently taps his nose with a smile, all the while Izuku stands in complete and utter shock, because somehow this girl was still alive.

“Y/N how did you do that? Is it your quirk? What is your quirk—”

Looking back to him, Y/N nearly jumps at the number of questions he’s bombarding her with, stumbling back and bumping into Bakugou, “shut it Deku.” He grumbles out, hand pressing against the boys head and shoving him away. While his other arm braces Y/N.

He’d noticed a while back that she had never been the type for physical contact of any kind, coupled with the gloves, he was fairly sure her quirk had something to do with such contact at this point. Which is why he moves to give her space, only for her to grab his wrist.

Bakugou pauses, meeting Y/N’s eyes momentarily before pressing his lips together into a tight lipped smile. She blinks once, twice, before breaking eye contact and looking back to Izuku with an awkward smile.

“Sorry about that. My quirk makes physical contact a tad…” She inhales deeply, “overwhelming.” Y/N looks back to Bakugou, “sorry.” She repeats, lips pressing together to form a thin line.

Y/N can’t help but be grateful that she touched Bakugou, his emotions— his confidence especially— being a refreshing feeling in comparison to those around them that reeked of anxiety. Although it was their first day at one of the most prestigious schools in the world. That didn’t mean she wanted to feel the anxiety of every damn student around. It provides her with solace, something to ground her, even if only for a moment.

He simply shrugs, looking away from her. But he doesn’t move.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N turned back to Izuku, tilting her head in confusion, “but I didn’t use my quirk? What do you mean by—”

“Nothing. He means nothing.” Bakugou interjects almost instantly, eyes locking with Izuku’s. As though this entire interaction couldn’t have shocked him more, Izuku suddenly seems to understand what’s going on. It hits him like a pound of bricks as he looks between Y/N and Bakugou.

Izuku cannot believe his eyes. Bakugou Katsuki has a crush.

note: and so the past begins to unravel ;)

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x you #bakugo x you #bakugou x you #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x you #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha x you #mha x you #this is not the end series

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noircartoons · 2 years ago

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really fucking sick of doctors going “well actually 🤔your backpain is just because you lay around in the computer all day 🤣kids these days” like all things aside let’s say that’s the issue. now what? you think i can just walk around outside for more than 3 hours without feeling so much pain i need to lay down on the floor(but clearly i can’t so i just start crying and go back home)? you think i can just stop drawing every day as if it won’t make me fatigued because drawing is my way of mentally resting? for fucks sake

listen, i go to school every day with analgesics. what 17 y/o does that? i have to take an analgesic gel to school, and even pills to take, because a lot of time they can’t handle the job, just make the pain tolerable. my friend hugged me a bit tighter then normal and i started coughing. i tried to fix my posture and i felt my fucking bones burning, and then i went back to my usual fucked up posture and they kept hurting so i was just in pain no matter what. i’ve nearly fainted about 3 times at school because my body pain was so big it was making me unconcious, my vision was getting black and i couldn’t hear a thing anyone was telling me bc it all turned into white noise-and one of them was on the way back home after school, a stranger had to help me and i was ready to pass out at this man’s arms when i couldn’t even see his face.

not to mention it’s my entire body that’s weak and hurting, my back is just worse. and it’s not because i’m sedentary, i dance at home because it’s the only sport i can do that makes me move around enough to be in shape but takes it easy on me enough that i won’t be in physical pain the next day and i can just lay down on the floor or on the bed of my home if i want to. my legs are some of the strongest part of my body thanks to it, but that’s not saying much, they still hurt so much that there are days i can’t walk without a limp and once i couldn’t walk at all and i needed a friend supporting me-i was almost begging for a cane of a wheelchair that day, but ofc the school wouldn’t be able to provide it. there were many days where i’m out with my back, shoulders and thighs all covered in analgesic just so i can simply be, and i’m thinking about putting some on my shoulder at this exact moment. my hands are awfully weak, to the point just a simple game of “throw this ball to me and i’ll throw it back to you” for a minute can make them hurt, or even opening paint cans, my leg can hurt from simple positions that shouldn’t even hurt and i can’t handle anyone sitting on my lap, and the amount of times the people around me have just picked me up and heard the crack on my bones or saw me curl up and hold my back in pain after

the only things that have gotten me somewhere is when my mom actually tried to help me instead of being all talk, she was the one that gave me analgesic and meds, gave me a new bra that could help support my shoulders and back more comfortably, she was the one that put bandages on my shoulders and a belt-thingy to fix in posture. but it shouldnt be her responsability, im begging doctors to do the things that she’s been doing already, and i know they can get farther then her so why won’t they just listen? why won’t they help? they just say “it’s because you use a computer all day” and pat themselves in the back. do your fucking job for once, i’ve already accepted if things stay the way they are i’ll be using a cane or some other device in a few years despite this being something ive been talking about for years! all people do is rub in my face how much this is all my fault-because i didn’t fix my posture at school, because i didn’t go to the gym, because this because that...I DON’T WANT THAT! I’M TIRED OF BEING BLAMED! I JUST WANT HELP TO BE HUGGED WITHOUT COUGHING IN PAIN, DAMN IT

#vent #i dont give a fuck if i have to use a device in a few years #im not afraid of being disabled #im furious that my pain is being extended because doctors wont take me seriously #theyre supposed to LISTEN theyre supposed to HELP #and they simply are not doing their damn jobs #as a patient i deserve better. i deserve a respect you are not providing me #and my condition is worsening because of your superiority complexes #if you think i am to blame for my current condition. fine.#but if i actually legally am considered physically disabled in some time #you are equally to blame #because you could have put a stop to this and you actually chose not to

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frenziedslashers · 3 years ago

Note

ready to fight anyone who misgendered/misgenders you if they did it on purpose 🔪🔪🔪

also hugs (if you want) and calling you your fav pet names (if you want)

sorry that people suck sometimes :(

imagine Lester who's just really kinda 🤷🏼‍♀️ about people being assholes towards him getting super protective over you like

anyone disrespect you? they've chosen death

- 🔪

THANK YOU KNIFEY, YOUR SUPPORT MEANS EVERYTHING TO ME 👹‼️‼️ ILY SM NEVER CHANGE

Dude I think about this all the time, he would probably get so defensive. He'd be minding his own business because he knows that if you need his help with a tourist you'd ask for his help, but he just can't stop himself when he hears them being the absolute Dickest of Dicks towards you.

He's instantly up in their shit. Posture straightening, friendly silly demeanor disappearing because "no one mistreats my sweet pea." And he means it, too. He'll tell them off, misgender them and see how it makes them feel and then tell them off again. He'd make damn sure Bo makes them suffer too. Lester ain't fucking around when it comes to your safety. Even if it is just your feeling being hurt, a part of you is hurting and he is NOT tolerating that at all.

He's probably gonna baby the fuck out of you later too. Not to the point that it gets annoying, if you ask him to stop he will. But he just needs to make sure you know how special you are, and how much you mean to him, and that you're his special man/woman/partner and that that other person that was being a prick means nothing. He just wants what's best for his honey pie.

#orian rambles #orians dumbassery #orians asks #🔪 anon #lester sinclair #lester sinclair headcanons #lester <3

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ch4nb4ng · 4 years ago

Text

[4:57]

ceo!chan

warnings: porn, office sex, penetration, squirting, roughish (?) play, depredation and humiation (very little)

you walked in and sat on the chair in front him. a frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you slouched down, indifferent about the unprofessionalism in front of your boss.

“do i need to remind you that this is a workplace, and not your apartment where you can huff and puff and do what you want?”

his tone was stern, but his face said otherwise. he was one to talk; he was in fact slouched in his ‘very special’ office chair as well, barely concentrating on what he was meant to be doing: his job. you remained unchanged, completely unbothered. anything harsh that came from his mouth at this moment was like flicking a fly off your shoulder; annoying, but nothing too serious.

“mr. bang im so stressed,” you sighed, waiting for him to look away from his desktop and become fixated on you, the look of concern: the heavy lean, head cocked back slightly, palm of his hand resting underneath his chin, index and middle fingers rating on his chin, thumb on his jaw, the others pushing onto his lips. and finally, the furrowed eyebrow of concern. He was a strict boss. always busy doing work and being productive. no time for mucking around or incompetence was tolerated. however, he was fair. fair work load, adequate amount of time given for tasks to be completed, break times, and he didn’t mind listening to his employees when they were stressed with problems outside of work (but if they were about work, his ears became shut).

“mr. bang?” your lips formed into a pout as he ignored you, eyes still fixated on his screen. you lifted a hand, waving it infront of his face. nothing. you could feel the seed of frustration become implanted in the pit of your stomach. nothing could be done about it; it had to be left alone. he was your boss, the ceo; it’s not like you could actually become angry at him. on the contrary he was being very rude.

“mr. bang,” you sighed, “what’s on your computer?”

more silence in response. what on earth was his problem? he was quick to criticise you, highlighting your informal entry into his office, yet he couldn’t give you the time of day? the seed of anger began to grow, his ignorance to you like water is to a plant; the main ingredient for development. it was growing, faster and faster as his head tilted to a slight angle, as if he already didn’t have a good enough angle of whatever he was looking at.

“nevermind,” you huffed, stomping out of his seat and turning on your heels. You were ready to make your exit, way too fed up to have a proper, logical conversation with him. as you began your first step, you froze, ears perking up at the pornographic moans that bled through the surround sound speaker system. you refused to turn around, saving the embarrassment your boss felt in front of his assistance. all you were able to hear was what you assumed to be the knee-shattering thud coming from his desk. warmth creeping onto your cheeks, things were becoming too real. his fingers were moving fast, trying anything and everything to shut the computer down.

“fuck,” he mumbled, what he thought was under his breath, but in reality was easily audible to the ear, he puffed, knocking over a collection of folders as he dragged the mouse across the screen.

‘just keep walking’ you thought to yourself; it would be so much easier if you had just walked out and pretended that none of this had happened. it was embarrassing, you were embarrassed for him; anyone would be. all you had to do was leave. escape and prevent him from any further humiliation.

but it was impossible now. you could hear the female’s voice.

“fuck,” she whined, “i must be such a good assistant for my boss to fuck me this go-.”

and finally, he had managed to turn the sound off. your body betrayed you, panic replacing the seed of anger as you scurried to his desk, helping him gather the sheets he had loosely scattered around him. the adrenalin was slowly wearing off as you helped him. you refuse to let your eyes sit on him at all. this was, well, weird; but not like you hadn’t thought of it before. a face panic was hijacking his features, but the way his blazer was half way down his shoulders, heavy on the floor with his legs widely spread, was sending your mind into a head spin. you paused, unsure of what to do or how to proceed, mind falling into a confliction. Any person would pick up the papers, put them on his desk and run out of there, but the whole thing sparked a type of thrill in your chest. you shook your head, standing up and placing the remainder of loose paper on his desk. The eye contact was brief. the redness previously playing on his ears had dissipated. you span around once more, hoping to successfully leave his office this time.

“wait,” he gasped, extending a hand, letting the roughness of his fingertips wrap around your innocent wrist. you said nothing, letting yourself feel mr. bang’s chest against your back, adding the necessary heat and drive to your body that you had oh so desired. your head thrown back, you let it ply out. let your boss snake his fingers around once more, gripping your wrist, slithering around your body, a palm effortlessly spreading across your neck. a soft groan escaped your lips, eyelids falling as you gave yourself into his touch, letting your own fingertips rest on his hardened thigh. Index finger perched underneath your chin, you smiled; the harsh feeling of him cocking your head to the left contrasting with the complimentary graze against your lobe as he tucked the oh so delicate strands behind your ear.

There was a long pause, causing your hips to jolt at the feeling of his lips attaching to the base of your neck. the deep chuckle that followed was a god send, delivering vibrations down and around your body like a rollercoaster.

“mr. b-bang i-“

“shhhh,” he whispered, the sensation of his warm breath instantly melting into your skin, “let’s just talk for a minute.”

a slight nod came from your head. he broke away, plopping right back into his ‘magnificent’ boss-like chair. all you could do was stare as his legs spread wide open, blazer jacket completely off, a few buttons barely hanging on as he looked you up and down. it made you feel small, humiliated, a joke to him.

but you loved it.

“so,” he began, crossing his left leg over, “why did you come in here for?”

“well,” you paused, cussing yourself at the way your voice uncontrollably whined for him, “i just needed someone to talk to because i have been really stressed for the past week.”

a playful smirk ripped onto his lips as he rolled his chair closer to you, placing his hands on either side of you thighs. chin resting on your stomach, you whined. he was being so damn cute right now.

“and why is it that your stressed?” he asked reaching for the remote control on his desk. he pressed the top button, activation of electronic technology filling the room as the dark blinds came out, nothing but the red light mr. bang kept on his desk illuminating the two of you. bodies so close together, glistening in the red shadow. the darkness of what should have been an illuminating direction really revealed the true intentions of what he was thinking. eyes black, teeth grinding, jaw clenched. you were surprised no horns or tail had appeared.

“j-just you know, um, well,”

“spit it out princess,” he hissed, lifting your blouse and pressing a gentle kiss to your skin.

“you’ve given me a lot of deadlines this week and i-“

“aw baby,” he cooed, tangling his digits around wrist once more, leaning back as he dragged you onto his deliciously spreaded lap, “you know i hate when people complain about work.”

you pouted, lazily playing with the exposed skin on his chest,

“i know but mr. bang, i had no one else to talk to about it.”

“wow, my little princess must be stressed out huh,” he queried, “we have to do something about that don’t we?”

you looked up into his gaze, the fiery hunger still evident from before. his legit arm became hooked around your left leg, right hand lifting your skirt, revealing your black lace panties, clearly oozing with arousal. he chuckled.

“is this what you’re always like when you're around me miss. y/l/n?”

too embarrassed to answer you covered your face, feeling the heat of humiliation radiating off your cheeks and he hooked his fingers underneath your undergarment, hasil pulling them down to expose your longing core. The sound of delight that left your boss’ throat was mind boggling. A deep groan, followed by a chuckle of pure satisfaction at your were dripping. He stuck out two fingers right underneath your cunt, smirking at the greedy glistening your juices gently coaching his fingers.

“fuck,” you mumbled, hands still over your face. this was so embarrassing. the way he controlled you. the way you had already submitted to him; he’d barely touch you thus far. His fingers were soft, almost too soft as traced your folds, the desire for direct friction becoming urgent.

“mhm,” you hummed, making sure any sound that left your lips was quiet.

“come on y/n,” he purred, making your legs feel light, “tell me what you want.”

you finally took your hands away, looking down to see mr.bang, you boss, aka, ceo of the company, looking up at you, biting down on the bottom left corner. He was very satisfied with the discombobulated state he had put you in. your posture was weak, back achingly hunched over, hands threatening to grab his wrist and shove them in between your folds, into your entrance, on your body. Anywhere except for on your folds would have been acceptable at this point in time. finger pads becoming stronger, your hips involuntary jerked up, a jolt of pleasure shooting from your core as he adjusted himself, accidentally flicking your clit in the process.

“please,” you whined, sinking to be closer to him, elbows propped in his desk for support, “no more t-teasing.”

the begging flipped a switch in me.bang. he growled, standing up and rustling your by the hips, backside faced to him as he pressed up against you. you gasped. you could only feel the outline of his length, however, you moaned, just at the thought of knowing how well he would fill you little hole up.

his fingertips left your hips, beginning to snake around your body, smoothing over any exposed skin he could create and smother. his touch was delicate; you could tell he was holding back.

“you’re so naughty aren’t you missy?” he chuckled, bringing a hand back around from you front to cup your ass, “practically begging for your bosses cock, during working hours?”

you said nothing. arousal coming over and crashing down into your body at his humiliating words. you could feel your skirt being lifted once more, a slight coolness pressing to your ass as it was now bare, completely exposed. he bit down on his lip, eyes fully glued to your backside as he hands descended, playfully curling the circumference of each cheek.

“mmm,” you groaned, unable to get enough of the way his textured hands felt, “mr. bang your hands feel so goo-“

you were quickly interrupted by the sudden digits encompassing your neck. you eyes widened, caught off guard by his sudden movements.

“please baby, you don’t have to call me mr. bang. call me anything but that.”

his tone was aggressive. you could tell he was being serious. you nervously gulped; what you were doing was highly out of the ordinary, and definitely a huge human resource breach. the last thing you wanted to do was piss him off. his thumb now pressed on your face, you smiled, opening your mouth to invite his shining fingers into your mouth. he moaned, head thrown back as you effortlessly covered his thumb in juicy spit. he quickly brought it back down to your heat, finally sliding it through your folds, barely pressing on your clit. your body lunged forward, but he stopped you. he placed his hands on your back, pushing your body against his desk, face squashed to the side and he got back into his knees. his spread your cheeks, spitting directly into your aching holes. his jaw clenched, enjoying the pathetic whines and mumbles came to your lips as he spread toru wetness around. god it had been so long. if he kept this up, you’d be cumming all over his face in no time.

“tell me baby, what do you want?”

“mmmm, mr.bang- uh i mean, chan, wait, can i call you that?”

“i told you princess,” he purred, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, motioning it towards his tent, “you can call me whatever you want.”

a stifled moan escaped your lips. the outline of his cock was exquisite. it was making your mouth salivate. oh the things you would do to have him in your mouth was eating you up inside.

“can i suck on your cock?”

your answer knocked the wind right out of him. he wasn’t expecting something so straight forward. you tend to beat around the bush when you needed something.

“okay baby, and why do you want to do that?”

he was standing again. pressing his clothed cock right into your bare ass, making your head feel very dizzy. his nose tickling your ear lobe, and lips on the crook of your jaw made you suck in a large breath.

“your cock feels so nice when i touch it,” you paused, turning to face him, “i wanna know what it taste like too.”

the way he grit down on his teeth, making his jaw completely tense up was so fucking hot. the way he became flustered at your response. he woudl love nothing more but to hold your hair up and fuck the shit out of your throat.

“god you’re making me so tempted,” he growled, forming a tight grip on your ass, “but we can do that another time. i just wanna fuck you so bad right now.”

the vulgarity of his voice left in you in a moaning mess. he was so dirty, filthy, the heat oozing out of his pores and onto you, making you feel like you were his destiny. the little fuck toy that you had been fantasizing about.

“mhm,” you whined, desperation evident in your tone, “please fuck me sir, i want to be filled up with your cock.”

“fuckin hell,” he grunted, taking a step back to undo his belt, almsot ripping off his pants in the process, “you’re so fucking dirty you know that?”

“please,” you huffed, “i’m not the one that watched ceo assistant porn in the middle of the day.”

you wanted to look at his face, hoping your words evoked an anger in him that he could easily take out on you.

“you’re such a smart ass huh? lay flat down on the table for me.”

you did as you were told, happily squishing your face against his desk and he began to stroke himself. the devilish moan escaping his lips made everything stop for a moment. were you really doing this right now, with your boss? reality quickly began to settle in. maybe this wasn’t such a good idea-

“oh fuck,” you yelled, quickly covering your mouth as he slammed his cock into you, filling you up to the brim. your eyes were already at the back of your head. yeah, you expected him to fill you up adequately, but your expectations were too way too low; it felt 1,000,000 times better than any image you ever had.

“that shut you up didn’t it,” he smirked, bringing his left hand to your right side, “you’re so fucking tight it’s fucking ridiculous.”

the continuum of cussing that came out of his mouth after every second word was like music to his ears. the professional boss you once knew was thrown out the window. nothing but a horny fucking boss who can’t get anything because he works too hard.

“does it feel good,” he groaned, giving a blow to your ass in the process, “tell me how good my cock feels buried inside you pretty little pussy.”

incase he couldn’t tell from the way your knuckles had become ghost white from the right grip you had on the edge of his desk, you opened your mouth, only able to respond in muffled whimpers and distorted sounds as he rammed his cock in and out of your wanting hole. his chuckle became even deeper, mr.bang falling into another universe as his cock stretched out your walls. his jaw now loose, he hung onto your hair, grouping it into an extremely messy ponytail as he yanked your head back, tears beading at the corner of your eyes. all previous partners were soft, nothing but praise and kindness. you did love that, but feeling like a toy; that was a whole new level of pleasure.

“fuck fuck fuck,” you whined, feeling yourself already begin to clench around him, “pull my hair harder, harder please sir.”

“how can i say no when you ask me so nicely?”

his smirk was now visible to you. your head was all the way back, looking at your boss upside down as he focused on your pussy, finding different ways to push and shove his cock into you harder and faster. you could feel him twitch, especially each time you clenched around him.

“fuck don’t do that y/n,” he growled, now creating a palm or read across your left ass cheek from another slap, “if you keep doing that i’ll fucking cum.”

the giggle that left your throat was sadistic. a mixture of bliss and torture, like you were frothing at the mouth. things were getting really hot now, it would be moments before you burst out in loud cries, shaking from the life changing orgasm you were about to have.

mr.bang paused, changing the angle of his thrusts to hit a different spot. your knees gave way as soon as his position changed.

“bingo,” he smirked, picking up his pace to be even faster from before. he held onto you, hands leaving your hair and wrapped around your arms. it was too much. you were completely under his control. he had gotten you to be right where you needed him. each time he hit your sweet spot was each time your knees buckled; you really didn’t know how much longer you could take.

“mmmmm,” was all you could whine, “c-cum.”

“you’re gonna cum?”

a feeling of relief spread to your chest at the feeling of his thrusts becoming a lot less rhythmic. mr.bang’s forehead was now pressed agaisnt your back, the ice like feeling of the beads of sweat spread across his forehead called you down.

“yes p-please,” you cried, “please make me cum!”

the next second was a blur. all you could feel was the immense pleasure burst from your core, ripping to your stomach and every single other possible part of your body that could feel anything. the crash was hard, legs shaking as he brought 2 fingers down to your clit. he pulled out, storming your back in his liquid before returning to your clit , enjoying the way you struggled underneath him.

“wait y/n!”

he quickly stopped, causing you to fall to you knees, chest heavily moving, panting audibly evident. you opened your eyes. quickly covering your mouth and the mess you had made.

“mr. bang i’m so sorry i’ll get the cleaner to-“

“shh,” he hissed, interrupting your nervous ramble, “let me help you you up first.”

he held out his hands, gently bringing you from the ground. he turned around, giving you time to grab you panties and put them back on. he said nothing, following your direction and rebutting his shirt, looking at the reflection is his computer screen to adjust his tie.

“i’m so sorry-“

“hey, it’s fine, can’t help it if i make you feel so good that you have to squirt everywhere.”

“oh my god,” you mumbled, pacing out of there. you grabbed the handle, about to turn when you heard him call for you.

“wait, y/n!”

he walked up to you, his large figure towering over you as he spoke,

“i hope you’re feeling less stressed now. why don’t you come to my office early tomorrow morning, keep the promise you made about wanting to taste me?”

#okay im tired i sleep now #chan smut #bang chan smut #bang chan #chris bang #chris bang smut #stray kids smut #stray mids fic #kpop #kpop smut #bang chan x reader #chan x reader

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mehphoobia · 4 years ago

Text

You are beautiful

pairing - Tom Holland (actor) x Reader (college girl)

summary - Y/n is visiting her parents for the first time to Rio, whom she doesn’t know properly because they left her with her aunt when she was young. She is insecure about meeting her parents but she finds comfort in a stranger.

MASTERLIST

word count- 2.9k or around 3k

warnings - mentions of insecurity and self doubt, no swearing(cause its like my first post so gotta stay ‘pure’)

“Get up Y/N and Claudia…its 8 am already. We are going to be late.” a faint alarm could be heard from the kitchen, two rooms away from your room.

_______________________________________________________________

Your parents had been looking forward this vacation for months. With your father working in Rio for the past 7 years and your mother being a full time nurse at a nearby hospital in Rio where your parents lived, you never got a chance to feel how it felt to be with your parents. So naturally with no one to your care, you grew up with your Aunt Cass and your cousin Claudia, around whom your entire world revolved for the past 20 years.

________________________________________________________________

Grumpy, filled with laziness up to the brim Claudia dragged herself to your bed and tortured you to get up. “Just two more minutes. I swear”, you begged as if she was listening. Then came the final blow with a splash of water on your face and then well….its self-explanatory. You both got up, finished through the verbal fight which left Aunt Cass chuckling in the kitchen.

“Aren’t you a tad bit excited to go to Rio, it’s been years since your parents last spent time with you.” Asked Claudia looking at you expression-less face in the mirror while brushing your teeth. “I don’t know Cloud, it’s just that I don’t know how I should feel about it. I am nervous and scared and tired just thinking about how awkward it can get.”

________________________________________________________________

Your parents had last seen you on your 16th birthday, when they showed up at your house. The 16th year where you are neither an adult nor a child, of all those years they could have shown up, it was that year. Your mother had gifted you a manicure set and your father had bought you a hair kit and you absolutely had no idea what to do with it. Little did they know that you were more interested in trekking and photography rather than painting your nails and dyeing your hair? Where other girls chose tight fitting dresses and expensive heels you chose the comfort of sweatshirts: pajamas or jeans and sneakers.

_______________________________________________________________

“You will be fine, it’s YOU after all. If I can tolerate you enough to share my room with you then trust me, anyone can put up with you” said Claudia boasting her patience and handing a comb from her dresser. “Why don’t you curse or compliment me one at a time” you snapped annoyingly. But you were grateful for supportive arms around you which calmed you down.

After getting ready, you greeted Aunt Cass with a smile on your face and a stretched good morning as you helped yourself with some toast and orange juice. “Eat well, it’s a long flight after all” said Aunt Cass followed by a “Yes ma’am.”

“Keep your phone charged at all times. Keep calling me after every two hours and did you pack enough clothes to last you a month. I don’t want to hear your mother complaining later about it. Should I pack some extra snacks for you, you will surely not take care for meals and if you skip any your meals throughout the day, I swear you have had it then.” It never ceased to amaze you how multitasking Aunt Cass could be. She is strict, tough and a woman of her words. There was not a single day when you and Claudia had not done your college assignments or homework with Aunt Cass being at home. But at the same time she would sit with you past midnight when both of you cousins stayed awake for you midterms. Maybe that’s why you never missed your parents because you never had a void in your life, Claudia and Aunt Cass had filled it lovingly.

That being said, before you knew it all three of you were in the car and already off for the airport. The entire ride was filled with constant chattering as to how famous and beautiful Rio is and as how will not be able to walk down a street without bumping into a celebrity. However you were lost in your thoughts about living with your parents for a month, about whom you knew nothing and neither did they about you.

After reaching the Leipzig Airport, you waved them goodbye, leaving the loving and proud embrace of Aunt Cass and a cute envious look on Claudia’s face you were all set for Rio.

During the flight:

It was a 15hr flight, with the overthinking and hyperactive person you were there was no possible way you could have had a simple excited flight journey, but there is no harm in wishing one for right? Or so you thought.

When you were boarding the plane you noticed an unusual number of bodyguards outside, literally engulfing the poor person standing in middle. What annoyed you the most was the people who were cheering, because at some point of time it wasn’t cheering anymore, it was a mob attack. After boarding, what greeted you were the over excited air-hostesses which was obviously because ‘the person’ as you painfully learnt through the mob attack. But all you could care at that moment was your seat being a window seat or not, and luckily it was. After putting your hand luggage in the upper compartment (you had three suitcases and one hand luggage) you finally asked a fellow passenger dressed in black hoodie with a mask on his face and skinny jeans as to what exactly was the commotion about and to brief you about the situation. The answer surprised you- it was none other than Tom Holland.

Your mouth was literally in the O shape and eyes wide open. It was the Tom Holland. It was your favorite actor travelling in the same flight with you. That explained the mob attack. The only person that came to you upper floor was your Claudia.

Y/N: TOM HOLLAND is in the flight right now!!!!!! Tom freaking Holland.

Claudia: wwwwhhhhaaatttt!!!???????, damn I knew I should have gone with you. How could you do this to me? Why?

Y/N: I am sorry ok I didn’t know or wait maybe I did. His visit to Leipzig was mentioned in his itinary on his twitter account how could we miss that? We just got lucky man and also I was squashed in the mob attack at the airport.

Claudia: Oh! You mean you got lucky dipshit!? Please tell me you got a picture!

Y/N: no I couldn’t, I hardly knew about him being on the plane I asked someone and I have been freaking out since.

*announcement for switching off electrical devices.*

Y/N: I have to switch off my phone for a while, the flight’s gonna take off.

Claudia: okay, I knew I should have come with you. Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!text me soon..love you

Y/N: yeah you should have, I miss you. Love you too.

“Are you a fan too?” asked your neighbor. You look at him with suspicious eyes was he eying your texts? Because if he was, that’s not healthy and it creeped you out. Even though, “well yes, me and my sister.” You said and hoped the conversation will die out there. He took the answer and you could imagine a small smirk curling upon his face by the wrinkling of his eyes which was adorable. By his physique and posture he looked no older than early twenties. “What about you, are you fan?” you asked, unknowingly and regretted it immediately. “He doesn’t bugger me, so you could say so. How long have you been a fan?” ,“My aunt happened to be watching ‘The Impossible’, when we were younger and we have been crazy about him since. My sister liked him like crazy as to how cute he was but I liked his acting in the movie but ended up liking him too.”

“Very interesting..” something about him was attracting you, maybe his aura, the charming vibes, you didn’t know, but you were just attracted. But something pinned you, his accent, he had a British accent. Unknowingly, when your eyes met, your heart skipped a beat. It’s him. He was sitting right here. He realized your surprised expression and said, ”You can take a picture now” he chuckled and looking directly at you. Your brain on the other hand was still processing the vital information and the very awesome physique with veiny and beautiful hands and captivating eyes. How could you miss his eyes, those beautiful passion filled dark brown eyes.

“uh..um..h hi, I mean hello nice to meet you, I am Y/N”, ”Tom Holland” he said extending a hand not taking his eyes off of you. It amazed you really, how could he despite being an actor maintain such a down to earth personality. The way he talks, listens to you, waits for your reply and him being in the economy class instead of comfortably sitting in the first class seating arrangements. Wait!?Why was he here?. As if he read your mind and a sudden change in your expression from being flustered to confused. “Too many people, I needed to get out of there and breathe by myself for once. No cameras, no media, no stylists….jus… just plain old me. By the way, my manager is my imposter”, he said with a smirk on his face.

“Oh sure, I can understand that, it can get tiring sometimes. The attention being forced on you that you were never used to it. My parents too, in that way, been out of my life since the very year I turned 1 and suddenly they want meet me and want me to stay with them for a month in Rio. I didn’t want to but my aunt convinced me and I couldn’t say no to her. ”, ”You stayed with your aunt your entire life? Didn’t you miss your parents?” his passionate eyes suddenly changed into concern and pity, “yeah, but she means a lot to me, she was there for all my dance ceremonies, each and every one of my birthday’s , my graduation, she means the world to me so does my sister, she is like my pillar, my support , an annoying one at that.” You said smiling on you lap, and you could feel his gaze softening upon yours. ”my parents, uhh…you can never miss something you never had.” You looked at him again, but this time you could feel and see his gaze on you, watching you and never leaving your eyes.

Both you were so lost in each other that you didn’t realize when the flight had taken off and the snacks table breaking your moment. “Oh it’s been so long already since the plane took off, I didn’t realize we even missed the safety instructions”, you both chuckled at that. “Oh man!, you are really beautiful, really” he said running his hand down his locks and realizing that his tone was a bit too loud, and he meant to keep the compliment to himself. “Sorry?” you asked, despite you pretty much heard it when he said it, you wanted to hear it again.

“uhh..i m..mean your teeth are beautiful.” He realized what he said and his expression was like ‘did I really just say that?’. “I mean your smile is beautiful, Not your teeth..oh wait..I mean your teeth are beautiful too but your smi…” you couldn’t hold you laugh anymore looking at him and his cute ‘war’ with himself. “Thank you, I guess, a lot of people say that about me after I got my braces removed.”

“Oh you had braces? Since when?” “around when I was 15, like every girl wanted to look pretty and wanted boys around her ,so me and my sister had braces for the sake of it, not that I cared about me getting a boyfriend, just for fun”. He seemed to have got stuck on one word, “so you got one?”…”got what?” , “a boyfriend I mean?”. His expression changed and yet again you could feel blood rushing to your cheeks, “I always wanted a crazy guy, who could have something similar to my interests, ‘cause I am not like every other girl in the town, I am into trekking and photography and outdoor activities, not just a girl who likes shopping and who always has to be around people so, my specifications are a bit particular, so I have never had a boyfriend.”

“So, no boyfriend, right?” he asked as if that being the only part he was interested in, or who knows may be he actually was.

After a few hours, you realized you had a lot of things in common and the internet was all wrong about his interests and all. It was like meeting a complete different person, a person whom you have known for the longest time as if you have always been together. You were attracted to him and so was he to you, and you could tell that.

“So what are you doing in Germany? Did you have a shoot here?” you didn’t mind asking because he already had mentioned a lot of stuff that he was not supposed to and also his eyes lit up when he was excited to tell you about some stuff anything at all. “uh..yeah we had to film a segment in Berlin and then we decided to take a break, so I around different places and now we are heading towards the Carnival.” “oh Carnival huh? My aunt says its pretty lively. That was like the main reason why I agreed to go Rio. ”

“so don’t mind me asking, but are you going to be awkward around your parents? Like I know you are not very close to them..” he asked you sincerely concerned with his hands slightly brushing off of yours on the handle of the seat. It’s like he wanted to hold your hand because he knew the weight of his question but he felt like you would disintegerate if he did so. You could feel the same pit around your stomach filled with nervousness that you had forgotten about a for couple hours. “I don’t know, it’s complicated, I don’t know anything about them and also they might have certain expectations about me and what do I do if I do not live up to it. I know we haven’t had a very comfortable story build around us but somehow I don’t wanna disappoint them from my side because they don’t know anything about me like the birthday incident I mentioned about. But I simply don’t want to disappoint because I don’t want my mother, who was never there for me, to question my aunt, who has always been there for me” It’s like you pour the entire timeline of your life in front of Tom and you were scared if he would drift away. “I understand Y/N, but your parents were the ones who planned this trip right?” “yeah they were the ones.” “so that’s it, you know when I have too much on my plate, my manager asks me to take a break and let everything go for sometime. All my meetings and appointments are cancelled because I will ruin them anyway, so there is no point of it. Your situation is kind of similar too, you have had a lot in your life with you parents not being there and now you simply just have to take a break and forget everything for a while because that’s what your aunt wants to you to do.” His hand finally rested upon yours and none of you flinched. It’s as if it’s meant to be.

That being said, you have already arrived in Rio and a beautiful ocean greeted you with open arms and you accepted it with a fresh mind. Tom’s hand still resting over yours and his fingers brushing the upper part of your hand and you look at each other embracing each other’s warmth with your eyes. That’s when you realized that you have fallen for him, not Tom Holland but just him, just Tom.

After the plane landed he was still holding on to you, scared to let go. He was scared to let you go because he cared about you and some fact had gotten him attracted towards you and he was scared to show you his vulnerable side. On the other hand you were scared to let go because you might never see him again. As if he sensed it again, what you were thinking, “I will see you again for sure. Don’t worry.” With a tight squeeze on his hand you let go and say “thank you, I will wait for you.”

“me too.”

You didn’t see him again after departing the flight, he would steal glances out of every opportunity to see you ,lost between the flashes of cameras and cheering, till the last second. The last time you saw him was to murmur something to his manager pointing towards you and that was it, the escalator distanced him from you. But you would still wait..

Outside the gate you could see your parents waiting for you, with Tom’s words in your mind you greeted them with a smile and everything seemed normal, as if they were always with you.

Two weeks later, still no message from Tom.

Claudia bombarded you with messages, when you told her about the entire duration of the flight. You were kind of annoyed with messages cause they were literally somewhere is hundreds. So you decided to ignore her for sometime.

*Ting* some part of you wanted to check that message but the other part of you wanted to go eat pizza because you were really tired from messaging and explaining everything to Claudia over texts. But then you were like *screw it* and you checked the message and…

*unknown number*: I said you were really beautiful Y/N….

A/n- uh..first of all thank you for reading this, cause it like my first post and my first fanfiction so i was a bit skeptical about posting this but fuck it, here it is guys it took me around four hours to complete this and its worth it.

also if you wanna be tagged in this just let me know!!! *uwu face*

lemme know if you want a part 2 of this, because I will gladly include it with improvement of course, love you ppl...

#tomholland #tom holland #tomholland fanfiction #tomhollandxreader #tom holland x reader #actor!tomholland #actorxreader #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tomhollandfluff #tomxreader #actor tom holland #actortom #marvel

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acciocriativity · 4 years ago

Text

The bet || Harry Potter

Pairing: Fred Weasley and George Weasley x Platonic/Reader (Tiny not so tiny George Weasley x Reader)

Summary: You had a normal life at Hogwarts, until the Weasley twins decided they weren't going to leave you alone anymore, and what was the reason? You would give five galleons to anyone who knew the answer.

Word Count: 4,0k

It was still early, I was walking through the corridors towards the Great Hall when two red-haired figures appeared in my sight.

"Hey Y/N!", one of them waved cheerfully at me, I still had no idea which one. "Why do you suddenly look tall today?", the other said with a smile, which made me want to punch him.

"Why are you suddenly more annoying today? It sounds like a serious illness, so excuse me, I don't want to catch this", I walked as fast as I could so they couldn't keep up with me.

I could hear their laughter behind me and the whispering but decided not to pay attention to what was said, that would bring me more calmness.

And why do I basically run away from them? It is very simple.

One day I was just another Ravenclaw student, and the next day I had the attention of the most popular twins at Hogwarts.

They liked to tease me about absolutely everything, no matter if I was just sitting down reading or trying to concentrate in a class, one of them would find a way to annoy me.

I never tried to differentiate which was Fred and which was George, it made no difference, they both seemed equally annoying to me and knowing who is who was not going to guarantee me anything.

"Hey, wait. We have a deal for you", the tallest of them spoke with a grin plastered on his face as he walked up to me in stride.

"And why should I agree? Anything coming from you guys is pretty suspicious", I replied with my eyes screwed tight and crossed my arms.

"Because you can have your quiet time again, we won't tease you anymore as far as possible", the other said with a small smile and I stopped to think for a few seconds.

"Well, that sounds good enough, and what do I have to do? You're going to have to get something out of this, obviously", I still remained in the same position analyzing the two, who seemed to be enjoying themselves more every second.

"You'll have to guess who is who at the end of the day", one of them started and my face dropped at the same moment."Since we're nice, we'll just say it once", the other added.

"What if I don't succeed then? If there's a prank, I'm out."

"There won't be anything out of the ordinary, just an extra dose of us", I took a deep breath just imagining what my life would be like with these two following me around the castle. "So are you going to accept or not?", he raised an eyebrow.

I took a deep breath and looked away, a good opportunity had fallen into my hands but I would have the rest of my peace lost if I didn't win, which would be no small thing but a part of me was just screaming to accept it at once, the competitive part, the part that was going to win this little challenge.

"I accept, it won't be that hard", I replied with a smile, a wave of confidence built up inside me and I really thought it wouldn't be a problem at all.

"Okay then", they just walked past me and kept walking and if I could see my forehead, a big question mark would be hanging there, "Hey? You still have to tell me which is which, it was part of the deal", I said, taking a few steps behind them but they soon stopped and looked at me.

"Oh, you're so confident, do you really need us to tell you who's who?", I clenched my hands tightly to hold back the urge to kill him.

"Of course I don't need to but... HEY!It's not polite to leave a person talking alone", they had the audacity to walk off and wave at me on top of that.

7:30 a.m.

I wasn't going to get any help from them, why did I expect to get any? Obviously they don't want me to win but I will and they will have to swallow that. That's my new goal today, screw the herbology paper.

But now it would be more difficult, few people would know the difference, I would have to ask one of his friends or one of the other Weasleys who studied at Hogwarts.

I wasn't intimate with any of them but I had classes with some, we never spoke but I will change that today.

I just hope they actually tell me something useful, one of the twins could have easily told no one to help me and made everything even more difficult.

8:25 a.m

"Hey Kate, what's up?", I said with a smile just as she was about to pass me down the hall, it was really worth it to eat fast or I wouldn't have made it in time.

The expression on her face already told me everything, the same gleam in her eye that twins have when they are disturbing me, why do I get the impression that it won't be so easy?

"Good morning Y/N, do you need anything?", she said leaning against the wall with a mischievous smile that I chose to ignore. "Actually yes, you should already know, the Weasleys challenged me to set them apart and you as a friend should know how, anything is useful, anything really", I liked that she was direct because I could be too. I don't like wasting time with small talk, especially when I don’t have too much time.

"They actually told me it would happen, but they didn't tell me more details, what happens if you lose? Some kind of prank I bet.

"They will annoy me twice as much as they already do, I don't know how you manage to be friends with them, she stared at me for a few seconds and then grinned. "What?"

"I'll help you since you're asking me but maybe you'll soon see that it wouldn't be so bad to lose", I just nodded without really believing it would happen. "Fred is louder and generally more annoying, George is quieter and more careful. You can find out more by noticing for yourself, I'm going to get going, I want to practice a little before class begins", she pointed to the castle entrance.

"Thank you so much Kate, I'll owe you this one. See you later", I smiled and waved as she walked away from me after waving as well.

Now I know the basics but they might try to trick me, switch places or pretend to be the other one. I have to be prepared and there is only one way.

9:00 a.m

The bell rang and the halls filled with heads hurrying not to be late, especially the poor first year students heading for the dungeon. I could see some shaking on the way out of the Great Hall but my destination was completely different, I headed up the stairs along with the other forty years to Minerva's class.

There was no sign of any of the twins, if they had decided to skip this class my plan was destined to fail.

The class was about to start when the two of them entered without any hurry and I smiled internally for having kept an empty chair next to me, just in case.

"Are you gentlemen having a problem with your audition? The bell rang five minutes ago. This kind of behavior is not tolerated, Mr. Weasleys. Minus ten points for Gryffindor", her angry voice boomed, and no one seated dared to breathe.

"It won't happen again, professor", I was surprised not to hear any funny remarks as a comment and I'm sure she was too but didn't show it.

"Sit down and open your books, let's move one more step forward from yesterday's lesson...", she continued talking but I barely paid attention after one of them sat down next to me.

"So, you're George, you can tell me now that I already know", he looked a little surprised for a few seconds but soon regained his posture.

"How did you guess it? I didn't even say anything", he said looking at me intently and I just shrugged, I wasn't about to say since this is clearly a plus for me.

"That's a secret that will stay with me, it wasn't that hard", I commented, dipping my quill into the ink to start writing what Minerva was going over on the blackboard.

Behind us it was possible to hear Fred's excited whispers that I had learned to ignore after all these years. Now it seemed so much easier, it's not as if I hadn't noticed them both all this time, it's a bit impossible since they make themselves present everywhere.

We remained silent, since this is the only way I can concentrate. I even mentally thanked him for that, but it didn't seem to do any good today. My attention kept being drawn to the red-headed boy next to me, I couldn't help it.

Internally I blamed it on my will to win, because to do so I would have to pay more attention to him, that's all my body wanted to do, focus on George Weasley.

I only realized that I was crossing the line when I noticed that his cheeks started to take on a reddish tint and a shy little smile appeared. To make matters worse, there was Fred's giggles, who was watching everything with the best view; there was no way I could get away with this.

After this awkward moment, I forced myself to pay attention even though my desire was to get out of there, since he now decided to start watching me not as discreetly as he thought he was being. I was much better at that.

"Is there a problem?", I mustered up the courage to ask when it was already 15 minutes before the bell rang again.

I noticed him bite his lips and crack a small smile before looking forward again, "why would there be a problem?"

"You were looking at me", I answered quietly so as not to draw attention from the other students and especially from Minerva who was passing between the desks checking to see if everyone was practicing the spells correctly.

"You were looking at me before that, discretion is not your specialty, you know?", I was a few seconds without knowing how to answer that and in the meantime, I could see him savoring the fact that he had left me speechless.

"Yes, I was watching you to differentiate you better from your brother, and why were you looking at me?", I spoke in a direct tone looking him straight in the eyes and the other redhead's laughter sounded behind us and George gave him a nonchalant look, as did the woman, who had just passed us.

"Is something wrong Mr. Weasley?", she asked and of course, everyone around us had to pay attention too, because they had nothing else interesting to do.

"No, I just remembered a joke I heard, I could tell you if you want. I assure you it is very funny", he assured holding back the urge to laugh even harder.

"Your little jokes stay outside the room Mr. Weasley, and you all, if you haven't perfected today's transfiguration can get back to work", she caught everyone's attention and continued walking peacefully.

We ended up getting distracted from the main subject, he obviously took the chance of not answering me and just kept on training as I did.

12:00 a.m

We had the next 3 classes together and I stayed close to them and their friends as well. As I imagined everyone was very nice to me, we could have become friends much sooner if we weren't stuck in a fixed group of friends.

Some things had become much clearer in my head and others even more blurred. They didn't seem to be picking on anyone but me, although it hadn't happened all day. Then why? I was going to find out.

"Will you come sit with us today?", Katie said with an arm around Angelina's shoulders, both looking at me with a smile that wouldn't let me deny them anything.

"Sure, I'd love to. It's kind of funny that we have more things in common than I expected", I remarked as we walked slowly, with the hasty crowd in front of us. I would usually be with them but it's much better this way, time is not as important as catching up with everyone.

"I had no idea you liked quidditch, have you thought about joining the Ravenclaw team?", Angel, as she asked to be called, inquired and at that moment, I should but I didn't notice her gaze leave me and go to the twins, several times.

"I'm not as good at playing as I am at watching, so I prefer to stay in the stands", I replied with a small smile until I noticed everyone in that small group communicating with their eyes, which I chose to ignore.

"So Angeli, since when did you start playing?", I started the subject that was going to last throughout the entire lunch hour and it couldn't be better.

Everyone had some story to tell, I must admit that Fred's and George's were the funniest. At no time was there any kind of awkward silence, or a moment when I was not included in the conversation. I did notice that some of my classmates were surprised that I sat there, but in general they were looking at us because of the noise. Their special talent was talking, which I found refreshing since I could hear more and talk occasionally.

The worst part of it was that I ended up not paying as much attention to either George or Fred as I had planned, although now I know a little more about both of them and my new friends.

3:00 p.m.

After two classes of Aritmancia, I had a free period and many homework assignments to do and as I walked to the library, a familiar voice called out to me.

"Y/N!", I turned around and was faced with George and his broom near the stairs, not so far from me, "We are going to practice a little, do you want to come too?", I was about to say no, as I was already busy but then I remembered, I still had to guess who was who at the end of the day.

I had really forgotten and started to enjoy their company, I had to remind myself that I wanted to win and that it made perfect sense to spend some more time with him, if it meant that I could guarantee it. Or at least, I tried to convince myself of that.

"Sure, who else will be training?", I asked as I walked over to him and then we walked together to the castle entrance and towards the field. "Just Angelina and Fred, the others have classes or something to do," and I just nodded in agreement.

We hadn't spent any time alone since Transfiguration class and I didn't know what to say, as did he but I didn't feel uncomfortable, just lost in my own thoughts.

"You came to watch half the best quadribol team play today. You won't regret it," Fred was the first to speak up as soon as we arrived and I could only laugh, how could one person be so confident? I needed some tips.

"My expectations are higher than you Weasley, you better not let me down after that speech," I wasn't trying to be funny but I heard a chuckle come from the redhead next to me. "You're not out of it George, none of you. But remember, no pressure. I'm only going to judge a little bit," I said smirking, not really taking any of the words I said seriously.

"Go sit down and prepare to be impressed," the black haired girl gave the last words, grabbed her own broom and flew to the three right hoops as I hurried to the stands.

Luckily, I didn't miss much and less than 5 minutes later, I could tell with certainty how good the three were. They took turns as goalkeepers for Angelina, even though it wasn't really their position in the game.And after 15 minutes, the dynamic changed for the two of them to try to hit her, one at a time, for them to practice as beaters.

But honestly, I paid much less attention than I normally do. I couldn't tell them apart from so far away, and this realization made me face the shameless excuse I had created for myself. I just wanted to be there, and the reason for that I wouldn't say out loud.

More than 30 minutes later, the three of them instead of landing on the ground, came flying towards me and stopped by my side.

"So you can talk about how impressed you are now", I pretended to think for a few seconds and the indignation on his face was so funny I almost didn't say it but after such an arduous training like that, they deserved it.

"You guys were amazing, if someone from another house could watch the official training sessions I would really come to see more", I smiled and it was extremely adorable to see George's already red face redden even more after my compliment.

"You already know you can't watch the official practices, we are finally starting to understand each other", Fred said and took a step to hug me and I immediately took one back. "You're soaking wet Fred Weasley, don't even think about it. This is not the time for hugs".

"But I think it's a good idea sweetie, you can't hide from a Weasley, so just accept it", he said with an evil grin on his face and I was ready to run, I hated sweat especially when it wasn't mine but his long legs came into action once again.

"That's the most disgusting thing I've ever experienced, so you have something to be proud of after all", I complained, pulling away seconds after he had cornered me in the hug, which wouldn't have been so bad if it had been any other time.

"If that's the grossest one, you really don't know what's waiting for you honey. This is just the beginning," Angel said with a satisfied smile on his face. "But we better go now, I need a shower and we still have one last class today," she added and flew out of there after waving to us.

"Yeah, I need to take a shower too, I'll see you guys later," Fred said before getting out of there as quickly as possible, leaving me alone with George again.

"Well, do you want a ride? It's much quicker to get down that way," he smiled slightly at me and I agreed without a second thought.

I held his bare arm, because I thought it was better than hugging him and regret appeared immediately because I always had some issues with flying. It wasn't the worst thing in the world but it was far from being one of my favorites.

All I could do was close my eyes as we crossed the field, my hands automatically closed around his arm, the weather was windy and I could feel the shivers that went through his now red skin as well as mine.

It was a few seconds if I'm really honest but it didn't feel like it to me, I've never picked up a broom other than for classes and it's been a long time since I stopped having fun in those classes.

I was brought out of my thoughts when I felt my feet on the ground again.

"I'll see you later then, I haven't forgotten about the bet. You better be prepared," he gave me a beautiful smile and the consequences of that is the only thing I wasn't prepared for.

5:00 p.m.

There are those moments when you have to stop and ask yourself, what the hell is happening to me? For countless reasons obviously, and it was my turn. I didn't come up with any answers that made me blind to reality, which was really frustrating because that way it would be easier for me to just ignore.

But nobody told me it was going to be easy, which is a shame because I would have someone to blame.

All this played out in my head before I received an owl from them, telling me that I could go to the Gryffindor common room to finish our bet, along with the password for the day. I was prepared after being warned by basically all their friends, all I could think of on the way there were some spells, mainly revenge because I wouldn't let it go if there really was a prank.

But what happened was quite different, the place was quieter than I imagined, although they had many people sitting and talking normally including Fred and George.

"Oh hello stranger, you have finally decided to give us the honor of your presence, I can say for everyone, we are all grateful," I had barely stepped into the room when Fred spoke up with the most sarcastic smile I have ever seen, should I be confused?

"If I get all this reception every time I come here, I will definitely come back more often. Thank you, I feel very welcome," I said with an equally big smile, causing him to roll his eyes.

"Okay smartass, it's time for your answer," he continued speaking, the same voice but now that I was close, in front of them, I noticed that there was something very wrong there.

"Why are you talking like that George?", was my only thought, they were imitating each other, the voice was extremely similar, I could never tell the difference just by that, but looking at him, it is impossible to be mistaken.

Their expression dropped on the spot and I realized that there were more people watching me and maybe they knew the plan, because everyone was a little shocked too, was it that simple?

"That's impossible, who was the snitch that told you? Whoever it was, you're going to have a tough future," Fred even stood up and didn't bother to do another voice, he spoke and I was sure I won.

"Nobody told me, I didn't need much to realize that you guys were faking it. He spent the whole conversation scratching his arm, it's been like that all day," I pointed to George who had not taken his eyes off my person so far.

At that moment they looked at each other for a few seconds and then back at me. I should be happy but I wasn't. Even if I wasn't going to admit it out loud, they just proved to me how amazing they are and I wasn't going to lose that.

"Now that I've won, I want to change my reward. It's very simple, I want to reverse the reward and the punishment. I want an extra dose of Weasleys," I had to get a certain amount of shyness out of the way to say this but it was worth it.

It was worth it because I could see a sparkle in both of their eyes that went beyond a successful prank, it was worth it because I had the best years at Hogwarts with the best friends I could ever want. It was worth it because I found the best boyfriend in the world that day. I never thought I would be so grateful for a silly bet.

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