#anyways good god. i have to wrap up this chapter. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aureatchi · 7 months ago

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⋆ ✦ ˚｡⋆ THIS SUMMER NIGHT WE FIND SCATTERED DREAMS, I ONCE AGAIN RUN IN THE STARLIGHT ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, sigma.

— what it’s like to stargaze with them. (& more)

a/n. sadly, i have yet to see the aurora borealis and in general, seldom get to see the stars. (light pollution my no.1 enemy !!) but a girl can dream :) (& distract herself from the latest bsd chapters..)

info. fem!reader. fluff. soft everyone lol. some of them are nerds & ramble abt stars. :) + a little poetic. mentions of greek mythology. kissing. buildup to actual topic. profanities in chuuya’s & he may or may not use sskk to help. bsd manga/ability spoilers in fyodor’s.

DAZAI : so in this instance, i’d be perseus, and you’d be andromeda. — he listens to everything you have to say.

Your palm in his, the brunette’s pretty fingers wrapped around yours. He softly massaged your hand as you began telling him, your starstruck lover a story under the show of constellations. It had formed into a little routine since the first time you stargazed with him as a date.

“There was this princess,” you started. “Princess Andromeda. She was a very beautiful woma-”

“You’re more beautiful, though,” Dazai interrupted. You didn’t even get in two complete sentences without his commentary. You sat a bit awestruck while he delivered a kiss to your hand.

“Continue, bella,” big brown eyes teased you.

You hastily recovered. “…She was beautiful. And her mother—Queen Cassiopeia—who was very prideful, decided to brag to Poseidon, the Greek god of the seas, that she was prettier than his daughters.”

“I mean, that’s understandable. I brag about you all the time! Why shouldn’t the pretty girl be shown off?”

“Shut up,” you chuckled, reminiscing over the times the detective had shown you off. Whenever you decided to visit the Armed Detective Agency’s office with Dazai, Kunikida would never hear the end of it. When you two went out to eat, he would flatter your name away. “This gorgeous girl would like to order…” “May I please get a table for the angelic lady and I?”

He never failed to fluster you.

“Anyway, Poseidon got angry and decided to send a sea monster to destroy their kingdom. The only way the monster could be pacified was if it could devour Andromeda.”

“A damsel in distress,” Dazai nodded and then dramatically pretended like he was the helpless princess on the ocean. He completely pulled over the blanket the two of you were sharing, using it as a cape—“Someone save me! I’m going to be eaten by a sea monster!”

“‘Samu! I’m cold!”

“Ah, sorry. Perhaps you are the princess, and you need saving from this icy night!” He rewrapped the blanket over your shoulder.

“Stop interrupting me; I’m trying to tell you something!” It was nowhere near icy, but your lover proved his dramaticism even further when a tuft of brown hair grazed your shoulder. He had rested his head on you.

“Oka-ay—sorry, continue!”

“Meanwhile, Perseus—I told you last time, the man who killed Medusa—found Andromeda while flying over with his horse, Pegasus. He immediately fell in love with her, so he slayed the sea monster and rescued her from the rock she was chained to.”

“What a hero,” Dazai said. “So they lived happily ever after?”

“Not yet. Perseus asked Andromeda’s father for permission to marry her but discovered she was already set to marry someone else. And the man she was engaged to got angry that Perseus wanted to marry her.”

“Of course,” he sighed, which puzzled you a bit, but you’d return to his comment later. “I’m rooting for Perseus, though.”

“Well, good for you because the two fought, and Perseus won by showing the other guy Medusa’s head.”

Dazai chuckled. “Nice move! He turned his enemy into his trophy. Imagine if we did that to all our enemies!”

“I think then we’d have a whole army of statues,” you laughed. “But now, he and Andromeda married, and they were able to live happily ever after.

“The gods placed them in the sky so their story would be remembered eternally.” Finished with your recount, you gazed up at the stars.

“The North Star,” you pointed, and when you saw the brunette’s bronze eyes squint, trying to see what you were talking about, you moved closer until you were halfway on his lap.

You took his palm in yours and guided it to a single star.

“That one. All the characters’ constellations I mentioned in the story revolve around that star. Perseus with his sword, Andromeda flying on Pegasus...”

“Huh? That’s the North Star? Isn’t it supposed to be the brightest in the sky or something?” It didn’t stand out from the rest as much as he thought.

You giggled. “That’s a myth, ‘samu. It’s funny you didn’t know that.”

He shrugged. “I never really had time to appreciate and learn about something so peaceful like nature until now.” He turned to you.

“Until you.”

You weren’t sure how, but it was almost as if the moonlight had carved out his pretty face. Ethereal, you had called the moon, and it reflected in your lover’s features. His eyes took in the charm of the millions of lights in the night and synthesized the feeling to bring it back to you.

“If I were one of the gods, I would’ve created a whole galaxy reflecting your soul.”

In the midst of terror and chaos, the detective’s eyes revolved around humans and their violence rather than around the sun and the planets. Eyes and soul—how else could he focus on anything else when that’s all life showed him?

“Because I see the constellations in you—Andromeda, Pegasus, Carina, Orion…” it had been a few months, and throughout you had shown and told him all the stories behind the stars in the sky.

“And now I can stop to smell the flowers, love. I can watch the Ursa Minor, even if I still find it hard to sleep.” You were the bridge to his bronze gaze and iron marrow—you showed him that you were human, but that a heart could really exist without violence or malice.

I see a reason why the nebulas are placed as they are, even if stories are just stories. I see a reason I’m here. With you.

He sealed the thought with a kiss to your lips, under the celestial moon and the heavens’ watch.

You always wondered why Dazai paid such close attention whenever you started rambling—initially, you didn’t think he’d care that much about tales of space. But you understood him a bit better now, his complex heart. You held onto him a bit tighter to him as you kissed him back.

…

“Oh yeah. What did you mean when you said ‘of course,’ when I started talking about Perseus having to fight over another guy for Andromeda?”

And Dazai was his lighthearted self once again.

“We’re definitely Andromeda and Perseus in another universe,” Dazai winked. “You’ve always deserved to be treated like a princess! I would totally save you from a sea monster. And I’d be an equestrian if I could too—even better, a flying one!”

“Sure…”

“C’mon, bella, you see me at those horse-racing events all the time! Anyway, most important of all, I had to fight for you. Such a tough world when every other man is also at your feet.” He crossed his arms. “Having Medusa’s head would’ve made things so much easier! I really would’ve had a whole army of stone statues if I did.”

“No, you really didn’t need it at all,” you replied, laughing at Dazai, who was now pouting.

“Osamu the demigod: slayer of monsters or not, I only have eyes for you.” You kissed him on the cheek.

“Unlike Andromeda, I wouldn’t let two men fight over me and marry the one who wins.

“I would just choose you right away.”

CHUUYA : babydoll, you’re worth more than all those stars combined. — he only gives you the best.

“Ah, that’s unfortunate. Thank you for informing me, though,” you said before hanging up the phone.

You didn’t sue them on the line, albeit irritated. Tonight, you were supposed to have a date with Chuuya at one of the fancy restaurants he somehow discovered more of in the city when you thought you finally visited them all, but your reservations were cancelled last minute.

“Hey, princess,” the handsome ginger said when you phoned him next. You could sense a smile through his words on the other end.

“What’s up?”

“Weird-ass restaurant cancelled our plans,” you said. “Not even a refund.”

Chuuya quickly picked up on the disappointment in your voice, and he knew it wasn’t because he didn’t get his money back. Money was nothing—he was a Port Mafia executive. Stacks of bills piled into his hands every day, and he quietly flexed on it through his collection of wine in the cellar, his clothes, and gifts to you.

What he wasn’t wealthy in was time. It had been almost a month since Chuuya had any free time—the boss had been overworking him amidst never-ending Yokohama mayhem. His large penthouse actually proved to be a disadvantage when you were the only one staying in it. It was too empty; it was too quiet for a home, there was an awkward gap in the bed you slept in.

“It’s okay, baby,” came Chuuya’s voice reassuringly. “Don’t worry ‘bout some shitty-ass restaurant.

“Meet me home at the rooftop at the time we originally planned.”

“…Alright,” you replied, unsure of what he was going to do, but you were grateful anyway that you’d get to spend time with him.

“And get ready too, like we originally planned,” he added, and this time, you could imagine the smugness in his smile. “See ya soon.”

…

The bell chimed as the elevator approached the top of Chuuya’s apartment, signaling that you reached the rooftop.

“Chuu?” you called out as the doors opened. He was nowhere to be found—instead a pathway of candles and a trail of rose petals leading to the other side.

Your heels clicked on the ground as you slowly followed the course. It was dark towards the back of the rooftop, but the front overlooked the entire city of Yokohama.

Another quiet flex.

“Hey, beautiful.” You noticed him before the lively city behind him, before the romantic scene he had set up—the path of petals expanded into scattering around the table Chuuya was sitting at. He was dressed up too—looking as attractive as ever.

“The Nakahara Restaurant,” you hummed, taking a seat in front of him. “Not bad.”

Chuuya smirked. “Not bad? We get Michelin stars, baby. Trust me.”

You giggled. “I don’t know about that, Chuu. You’ll have to prove it to me.” It was like you had turned the tables on him. Usually, he only deemed a restaurant good if you were pleased with the food.

“Alright.” Now, you were going to rate his. You could tell he was going to enjoy this.

“You hungry?”

You nodded.

With a snap of Chuuya’s fingers, you immediately heard footsteps scurrying toward the two of you.

Two young men, one with raven hair until silver tips and the other with an entirely silver head—you realized they were waiters from who knows where—approached you with a dish.

“Appetizers by Executive Nakahara,” the first one said.

“Wait—did you cook everything too?”

“Duuh, you take this for a fraud or something?” Chuuya failed to hide the pride on his face.

…

The appetizer, entrée, and dessert proved delicious, and you were forced to eat your previous words.

He was talented in just about everything.

Chuuya kicked the two ‘waiters’ out of his house after dessert was served, leaving the two of you finally alone. The candlelight amid the dark sky enveloped your figures in an intimate glow.

“I would’ve been fine with even just takeout,” you laughed after taking a sip out of your wine glass.

He smiled. “As if. It’s a special night, doll, we finally have time to see each other again.”

“Exactly! Seeing you is what matters most,” you said.

“Anyway, thank you, Chuu. I appreciate this so much. And I guess you’re right—you earn a Michelin Star from me.”

Chuuya looked towards the city below you and back. “Didn’t doubt it one bit. But that’s not the only stars we’re getting tonight.”

You looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get shocked.”

Your lover snapped again—you picked up a slight difference in it this time compared to the previous times he signaled—and suddenly, Yokohama went dark.

You didn’t know how, but the city’s electricity had completely cut off at the mafia executive’s command.

“Chuu—?”

“You’re not looking the right way.”

You had been staring at the pitch-black buildings below in fazed awe, but it seemed to have switched places with the skies as now, small scattered lights began to fade in when you looked up, your eyes adjusting to the dark.

“Chuu!” You stood up in excitement. “We can see stars! In Yokohama!”

The ginger chuckled before pulling out a folded comforter from under the table. “Here, it’s better this way. Now this is what the wine was really for.”

…

Chuuya had fixed the comforter on the rooftop and pulled out a few pillows so that you were able to lie down and watch above more comfortably.

“I did this a lot when I stayed in Paris for a bit,” he said, explaining how he got the idea. “But the lights stayed on 24/7 there, too, so I had to use a telescope.”

You looked at him thoughtfully. “We could’ve done that too. You really startled everyone just for this.”

As if on cue, you suddenly heard someone shout in the distance, going “Hey! Who the hell turned off all the lights?!” You and Chuuya both snorted.

“Just for you,” he corrected. “I think this is better anyway. They can handle one night without power. And I made sure the hospitals and other important establishments stayed untouched.”

It was crazy how much power the man had. “Not entirely evil then,” you said.

“Yeah, plus I was also really aiming at that restaurant that tried ruining our plans,” Chuuya smirked.

You looked back at the stars and then Chuuya again, who hadn’t taken his cerulean eyes off your face.

You lay together to gaze at the stars. But instead of those, he was looking at you.

You couldn’t stop the flurry of coyness you got. He looked absolutely stunning under the heavens—it was almost unfair. It would be if you weren’t the one who got to see him in such a state. He looked mesmerized—mesmerized with you?

“Hey, you’re going to miss it if you keep staring at me,” you said.

“I’m seeing you and those galaxies for the first time in a while,” Chuuya replied. “I think I’d rather watch you.”

He kissed you while you were still smiling, causing him to grin, too. You felt light and safe around him and the blankets, and he felt the same. All aggression and stress ceased from his head, healed by you and the moonlight.

“Y’can name stars after people too, right?” he asked when you pulled back. “I swear, I’m going to make the next scientist who discovers one name it after you. It’d be way better than those random shitty names they give nowadays.”

FYODOR : i have the cosmos mapped out, likewise your soul. — you alone, he adores.

There was not a word said as you got into the passenger seat of the car that Fyodor was driving. He had left a note earlier that day—Zolotse, you’re coming with me on a mission tonight. Prepare what you need and bring the sleeping bags, and you had done so with little hesitation.

The sun had already gone down, but you were used to this. Initially, you had thought his job the opposite of himself—the demon was called to bizarre places sporadically and had to adapt to their settings in a short amount of time. You only realized after being with him for a while that he planned these things beforehand, and he planned them long ago.

The job was made for him—his little game of fate and chess.

He drove for around four hours straight. In that time, you had put on your favorite music, and talked with him about the usual—your latest philosophical obsession, anything interesting about his latest endeavors—you hadn’t realized you had gotten so far away from civilization.

Fyodor must’ve become nocturnal from all the time he’d spent in the dark, because it was pitch-black in all directions when he finally parked the car and you stepped out.

And only then you finally asked him. “Fedya, where are we?”

He didn’t respond, instead going to the back of the car and opening the trunk, handing you your sleeping bag and a flashlight.

You flipped the switch on, trying to scan the surroundings for any hint of where this journey took you.

“Darling, you’re quite naïve,” Fyodor said as you looked down at rocks and twigs below your shoes. “I’m concerned about how easily you agreed to let someone drive you hours out into the wilderness.”

“I’d do it only for you,” you replied, giggling. “I trust you.” Alas, he had answered your question, though you still didn’t know what he was here for.

“Follow me. We have a bit of hiking to do.”

…

A secret hideout? Meeting spot? Something valuable hidden here? Your mind came up with countless reasons why your lover’s current mission took place on a mountain and how he could even navigate without a map. The entire thing was strange—you hadn’t even seen him take any valuables of some kind besides a tent and his own sleeping bag.

The walk-up was a bit tedious. Thankfully, you wore the right shoes and had eaten well beforehand, but you still didn’t expect you would be partaking in exercise so late at night. It was also hard to see, the flashlights scarcely making a difference.

You came across a very steep hill; it was almost like you had to climb rather than hike up.

“Apologies for the inconvenience,” you heard Fyodor from above as he went first to ensure each step was safe. “It’ll be worth it later.”

“Ah-” You hardly had time to ponder his statement when you misstepped on a loose twig, causing you to slip. However, a hand reached to tightly grab you before you slid down.

“Careful, milaya.”

Fyodor kept your hand clasped in his throughout the rest of the trek. You finally reached a large clearing by the edge of a cliff—devoid of trees and hard bedrock.

“We’re here.”

He began setting up the tent while you looked around. There was nothing at all out of the ordinary—nothing suspicious for the demon to use. Were you really here just to camp?

“The goal: your eyes to adjust.”

Fyodor had finished and had been looking at you for some time—smiling, at the way your brows furrowed and how you were still lost with this entire night.

“What-?” you asked as he walked over to take your sleeping bag. You followed him as he set it right next to his.

“Sit next to me, lyubov,” he said, guiding you down. “I’ll tell you the secret to getting directions up here.”

He tilted his head up, and for the first time, you noticed an entire galaxy before you.

…

Drenched under the vastness of the dark skies and lights of the stars, Fyodor began to speak.

“We’ve used star navigation for thousands of years,” he said. “Fifty-eight stars and thirty-eight constellations that we’re able to use, but you only need to locate the Ursa Major to find north and Orion to find west.”

You nodded. Perhaps this is what he had come here to do—find directions to something that no GPS or technology recorded. He had probably taken you along just because he thought you’d admire the view and how you did. Fyodor was right—the walk-up was worth this view.

It was like you were in a trance. You had seen stars, but nothing like this before. The entire Milky Way galaxy was visible to your eyes, countless little suns that seemed barely out of your grasp, even though they were millions of miles away.

“Fedya, how many of them do you recognize by name?”

“By now, I have them all memorized because I’ve found it helpful. If an apocalypse surged the earth, they would still be there. If the world ended, they would still be there. The cosmos remain untouched by us—they watch humanity dance from afar. The nomads knew this the best—when we traveled, we relied on nothing but nature.”

You wondered how many body transfers it took for him to retain them all. There were so many little lights in the sky, it seemed near impossible to be able to gather even half in a mind’s jar. You guessed tens of years at the least, and even with that time, you knew only he could do it.

“You commend them too, don’t you?” you spoke, taking a risk in guessing his views.

“Elaborate for me.” You made eye contact with him, and amethyst eyes fawned over by the night almost enticed you even more than the entire view of the universe afore you.

“You appreciate them, and everything else that lays on the earth after the sun sets because they hold no flaw. They aren’t blemished by the foolishness of people.

“You can be at peace with them because they are perfect, unlike us.”

“You’re right. The perfect mankind would be as pure as the sun and the stars—untainted by something as unnatural as abilities. That’s how I see it, but why group yourself in such faults?”

“Hm?” was the only sound you were able to get out, when he grazed his fingers along your face, cupping your cheek.

“Printsessa, you are perfect.” He spoke smoothly, rich accent making his words sound like a lullaby.

“Your soul dances with the kosmos. Something so divine—you are the harmony of something as beautiful as what we see tonight.

“You are the only one who matches the heavens; my love, you surpass the heavens.”

He captured your lips in a kiss, and you only registered then that it was you two alone. It felt like you two were the only ones in the world with the witnesses to your love being the ends of the horizons, and that the universe who put on a show in the sky instead turned to watch you.

…

“Fedya…what was the mission?” you asked softly as you cuddled with him, your hands reaching for his silky hair as you lay on his chest.

You felt his smile. “You’re still so naïve, darling; you didn’t have to think so much. The mission was to bring you here. It’s been a while since we’ve gone out, has it not?”

SIGMA : i’ve never seen it before! (the aurora borealis) — he learns what love is through you.

“Sigma, baby, let’s go!”

The man had a slightly puzzled face as he let you eagerly lead him outside, past your home’s backyard—into the hills beyond. Other than the Sky Casino, it was your favorite spot, especially when you wanted some peace away from the rest of humanity and its industry.

Your lover was utterly confused why you made sure he did not fall asleep this evening. He always went to bed far earlier than you and rose while you were still lost in dream—perhaps snoring—but tonight you insisted.

And Sigma followed, even though he was at the verge of passing out from exhaustion—managing a casino was hard. He let you take his hand and direct him, even without a clue of where you were going.

Maybe that was what love was—blindly following another.

“I have a surprise.” You slightly turned your head back to look at him, and he swore he would remember this scene forever. His hand still clasped around yours, the warm glow of the back porch’s bistro lights cast upon your face, and your sweet smile—though it was dark outside, he felt that your smile lit up his world more than all the stars combined in the night sky.

The cosmos were a new thing for him. You had introduced watching the stars to him, in this special place beyond your backyard.

Immediately after his first time learning what the Big Dipper was, and that the little lights in the sky were actually much farther than they seemed, he called for a viewing deck to be created for the Sky Casino.

That way, even on nights away from you and home, he could still gaze at the same stars, and for you as well if you wanted to visit.

“Are we stargazing?” Sigma asked as you ran up one of the hills with him. He held a chuckle to himself. You didn’t bother to change out of your pajamas. You were so cute.

“It’s a little different this time,” you giggled, setting down a blanket for the two of you to sit. Before, you would bring foldable chairs, but you realized that they made it a bit difficult for you to cling onto Sigma when you wanted to cuddle with him.

“We should start to see it in just a few minutes,” you said, looking up.

“Okay…”

The stars were there as usual. Sigma had never thought that something as pretty as your heart could exist in something physical, but that was how he saw those small lights in the sky.

If only you knew that whenever you decided to talk about how beautiful the skies were at night, he wanted to say they were literally just a reflection of you.

As soon as the clock on your watch hit the next hour, you immediately grabbed Sigma’s arm in enthusiasm.

Now he was really starting to wonder what got you so jumpy.

“Hey! Do you see it?!”

Sigma caught himself so distracted by you that he was watching your face instead of where your eyes were looking at.

He blushed when you looked at him, but thankfully you remained oblivious to his embarrassment.

“The green light! Do you see it?”

Sigma looked up, and he saw what looked like sliver of green contrast the dusky sky.

“That’s natural,” you began to explain. “It works through the earth’s magnetic field colliding with the atmosphere.

“Watch how it dances.”

A show started to unfold before the two of you. Sigma watched as the small touch of light became even brighter, transforming into a ribbon. He watched as the ribbon began to travel across the sky, overtaking the darkness. He watched in awe as it was joined by another green stream, traversing the horizons together.

“Wow,” you both said in awe.

“It’s called the aurora borealis,” you spoke.

“You can see it regularly if you travel way up north, but it’s a rare event here.

“I wanted to experience it with you.”

Sigma turned to look back at you, butterflies in his tummy and a surge of warmth overflowing his heart when he met your face—cheeks glowing from the reflection of the chasma and your eyes full of adoration.

“With me?” Sigma asked.

“Of course,” you replied, pulling him up. “Look Sigma—a new color joined.”

He glanced up, seeing that a new hue had appeared, aligning itself with the green. A pinkish light had mixed itself in, creating a swirl of paints on the sky’s pallete.

It really seemed like the lights were dancing. And Sigma thought to himself—like me and her.

You seemed to have the same idea because you had taken his hands in yours and started to whirl him around. It was messy—a bit chaotic, but he let himself be dragged along for a bit until he got dizzy, because maybe love was blindly following someone.

Eventually, Sigma started laughing, and couldn’t be thrown around any longer. “Calm down, love!” He took control of the dance, guiding your steps so that it turned into a more organized waltz.

He became captivated when he twirled you around—even though you were in your pajamas, you couldn’t look any less beautiful. He had danced with you in ballrooms, in gardens, but this unrehearsed night was the most enchanting of all.

…

You two danced until your feet started to hurt and Sigma’s exhaustion finally got the best of him. Now, you lay together, watching the rest of the night’s act play out.

“Whenever I look at the nebulas, I only think of you now, you know,” you confessed. “Because even if you’re up there, and I’m down on earth, we’re still looking at the same stars together.”

“I think the same,” Sigma replied. “It’s like we’re always connected in some way.”

You nodded with a smile, but you realized Sigma wasn’t finished yet.

“Actually, it’s more than that. I can only think of you when I see those things because all beauty leads back to you. I see your kindness in the sun and your energy in these colorful lights. I see your perseverance in the moon and most importantly, how many hearts you’ve made shine in the stars.

“And whatever ends up the brightest at night is mine, because you’ve warmed my heart the most.”

Your own heart was beating fast, by how your lover had spoken so tenderly to you and by the way he had rolled over towards you so that he was so close now—his lips just shy of yours.

“Sigma,” you whispered, and then you pulled him into a kiss.

It was then he finally understood: love wasn’t about blindly following another, he followed you because you were a blessing of trust, carrying the stars of devotion on your hands.

i heard if you rb, u’ll be able to watch the stars w/ ur fav tn !! reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

this fic wouldn’t have ever seen the light, weren’t for @cheriiyaya (hi); thank u bby for encouraging me start to finish. <3 a lil prompt inspo for dazai & fyodor from her. ^_^

p.s. did i imply a past!love triangle in dazai’s scenario? yes. was i referring to the fyozai ‘til death we do art love triangle? maybe..! actually, for some rzn, i included many things here that foreshadow other fics coming soon. stay tuned :)

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surielstea · 5 months ago

Text

A Sudden Elopement

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Reader and Azriel suddenly get married without telling any of the others, the silently watch while every one figures it out for themselves.

Warnings: just fluff.

A. Note: just a short fic because I feel bad for being inactive as of late :c but the good news is, is that I’ll be very active for Eris week!! So keep an eye out for more Vanserra content 😻🙏

1.7k words

My eyes drooped with exhaustion as I attempted to keep my focus on the book I was reading. I was seated between my mate's legs in his lap, leaning back against his chest while he combed his scarred fingers through my hair. I sighed and closed my book, deciding I didn't have enough energy to read another chapter. I tossed it to the side of the bed and shifted lazily, flipping around to meet his hazel eyes gazing down at me.

"How was your book?" He hummed and I mumbled something he couldn't decipher while pulling myself up and stuffing my nose into the crook of his neck.

"That good, huh?" He teased, his arms moving to wrap around my waist.

I nod, tightening my grasp on him, needing him closer, lazily clinging to him like moss to a damp wall, infectious and dependent. But he didn't seem to care, only returned my embrace with the same tenderness "We should get married," He said softly and my eyes widened, now fully awake.

"What?"

"We should get married," He repeated with a casual tone.

"As in, right now?" I tilt my head, raising a brow at him.

"Well," He gave me an incredulous look. "Not right now, eventually, I want to marry you," He reiterated. A soft smile pulls at my lips.

"We've only been dating for a few months," I argue and even in the dim lighting I can see him blush.

"Yes, and we've been best friends for a decade," He argues and my smile widens, I straddle over his hips, sitting up and debating it.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd marry you now if I could, but do you really want to go through the hassle of planning one?" I speak logically but it's as if he only heard the first half of my sentence.

"Let's get married, right now," He grinned wildly and I flushed pink. "We don't have to do the hassle, you hate parties anyway. It can be just us, somewhere far or close I don't care. I just want to marry you," He expressed, intertwining our hands as I debated the irrational and sudden decision.

"Though I love how eager you are, I don't have a dress— much less, we don't have rings," I explain. "And as rich as you are, your funds are not bottomless," I say but he remains looking at me with the same loving look.

"Tell me exactly how you want to do it, and that's how it'll be done," He prompts and lets go of my hands, favoring placing them on my waist as I leaned down on my elbow, propped up against his chest.

"Well, it being just us doesn't sound too bad," I say, tracing shapes on his bicep with my free hand. "And I'd want to have a pretty gown, and I'd want to have our ceremony somewhere beautiful." I flick my eyes up to meet his unfaltering gaze. "And rings, I want everyone to know we belong to each other," I add quickly and his smile grows.

"Anything else?" He tilts his head but I shake mine, cupping his face and leaning down, kissing his lips softly. "I think, I just want to be your wife," I finalized and that seemed to have pleased him because the next thing I know he's flipping me over and kissing down my neck. And despite my exhaustion, I knew sleep wouldn't come until dawn.

—————

"So, how was your trip?" Feyre said excitedly, settling into the barstool beside me.

Azriel and I had gotten back after a month's vacation only a day ago, but everyone was eager to catch up. So we landed ourselves at Rita's, a local bar beloved by the citizens of Velaris. "As romantic as it sounds," I say with a soft blush, propping my head into my hands.

"Gods, I wish Rhys would take me on a surprise trip like that," She sighed dramatically and my smile grew. We hadn't told anyone why we actually went, that our trip was more of a honeymoon, less of a vacation.

"I know," I turned back in my stool to look at my husband who was surrounded by his two brothers. "It's all still such a daze," I smile dreamily, looking back to my friend who was frozen in her seat, staring directly at the cut sapphire on my fourth finger.

"Are you engaged?!" She practically shouted and I giggled, shaking my head.

"Az and I decided to get married while we were gone," I shrug as if it was a casual thing. I didn't want it to be a big deal, because it wasn't really, we were the last of the group to tie the knot.

She just stares at me, slowly, she shifts her head back to the three males at the other end of the room, right at that chain around Azriel's neck, a silver ring hanging from it. He couldn’t wear rings because of his scars, but he still wanted to have that physical element of our marriage, as if to display how taken he was.

She nearly fell out of her chair at the realization, then tackled me into a hug, holding me tight as I giggled at her antics. "My gods, congratulations, I would have been sending gifts all week!" Feyre claimed and I shook my head at her nonsense while she pulled away.

"It's not a big deal Fey, if they haven't figured it out yet— you're the only one who knows," I smile broadly, looking back at Azriel, who happened to already be staring at me.

I brought my hand up, gesturing to the ring on my finger, then to his brothers. Silently asking if they notched yet. Azriel shook his head with a mischievous smile and I turned back to Feyre with a smirk. "I can't believe you guys didn't tell us," She huffed as if she'd failed me as a friend.

"As much as I would've loved for you to be there, it was hilarious watching how clueless you all were," I claim and she gives me a sidelong glare.

"Oh cmon," I lean over in my stool and bump her shoulder with mine. "Now you can be in on it. Who do you think is going to be last to figure it out?" I ask, gesturing to the group behind us who were all mingling with Azriel.

Feyre turned to look, the three-winged Illyrians all chatting with Morrigan, Nesta, Lucien, and Elain all accompanying them. "Cassian," She bets and I smirk, narrowing my eyes on the group.

"I think Rhys," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Feyre cracks a smile. "Whoever's right pays the tab," She says, slipping out of her barstool and I nod, agreeing to the challenge even though I knew damn well Rhys would be covering the tab regardless.

We saunter over to the group, wicked smiles on our faces. Feyre goes to Rhys, intertwining their hands while I come to stand between Cassian and Azriel, my husband putting his arm around my shoulders. "What's that look for?" Azriel asked me, noticing the mischievous glint in my eyes.

"Feyre and I have a bet going, and that's all you need to know," I shrug and he arches a dark brow but doesn't say anything more while silky shadows swirl up my calves as if they were trying to beckon more information out of me but I didn't budge, just leaned into his side and watched Feyre as she tried her hardest to get her mate to realize the wings on me and Azriel's fingers, eager to win our bet.

It took much longer than I thought it would for them to realize. Lucien and Elain had spotted it that night, pulling me to the side to ask about it. Morrigan and Nesta had done the same one night later, interrogating me and Azriel as if we'd committed a crime, they seemed to think not telling them was against some friendship code.

But Rhys and Cassian hadn't noticed that night, or the next, or the next. It wasn't until I was training with Cassian and punched him square in the jaw that he caught sight of the ring on my finger. He brought his fingers to his cheek, wincing as he saw blood when pulling his hand away.

I cringed. "Sorry, I forgot to take my ring off," I murmured shamefully, taking the sapphire off my fourth finger. He paused, staring at me curiously, with no malice in his eyes despite the fact that I just drew blood.

"Where did you get that?" He tilted his head. I froze. Would it be considered cheating me and Feyre’s bet if I told him Az gave it to me?

"I'll give you one guess," I sent him a wink and his brows shot up.

"No way," He whispered. "He proposed?" His arms went out wide and shock. I fought back a laugh. "Well, yes, but we got married already, when we took that month off to go to the Summer Court? That was our honeymoon," I shrug and his eyes nearly bulge from their sockets.

"He didn't tell me!?" Cassian exclaimed as if he was the one to be married.

"We didn't tell anyone, everyone else already figured it out." I chuckled and his eye twitched. "Rhys doesn't know, me and Fey had a bet going to see how long it'd take," I shrug. "Turns out longer than expected." I hummed and he scowled.

"Well, you think you know someone," He huffs pathetically and I laugh.

"It's not like that Cass," I roll my eyes while walking over to my water and placing my wedding ring down beside it. If he was actually upset I don't know what I'd do, and I found myself thanking the gods when he cracked a smile, unable to keep the facade up for too long.

"Me and Az are going to have a long talk about this," He warned and I chuckled, getting back into my fighting stance on the mats.

"All I ask is that you return my husband in one piece," I say, smiling at the sound of calling Azriel my husband.

"Fine, but only if I get to be the one to tell Rhys he lost the bet." He hummed, getting into his own stance.

I grinned wildly, Feyre was going to rage. "Deal."

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hivemuthur · 4 days ago

Text

Nothing's New - Ch.1.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, a lot of angst, smut to come somewhere mid-way through

Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 5,7K

tag: #nothings new

summary: It's a bit late, but I had to touch some grass. This is an expository chapter that puts almost all pawns on the table. It's mostly angst and it's a very experimental thing for me, I will be updating warnings as we go. Updated probably every week or sooner!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“Hey,” he says in a warm tone, a gentle nudge on your elbow as a cold glass is placed bottom-flat on your palm. A very much welcomed chill in the suffocating, wet, soggy heat on Jayce’s balcony, which still isn’t as bad as the inside of his apartment. Then, a pair of strong hands, their warmth equal to that of the voice, wraps around your biceps. A pair of blue eyes looks deeply into yours, analysing, searching the inside of your head.

“It’s okay. I love you.”

A layer of moist cotton brushes your face before the mass of a broad chest squishes your nose in an embrace.

“What?” you muffle into the material, tasting salt against your lips, the smell of sweat—the good kind, the strong, manly kind—and pine hitting your nostrils, your arms hanging idly by your sides, one of them gripping the cold glass tighter. “Why would you say it now?”

That is a first. A love confession thrown casually between the two of you, like a lifebelt for your sanity, waggling desperately in a muddle. He moves away, and you down the whiskey along with the ice cube, which you shove into your cheek.

His palms still cradle your arms as he leans in, his head hanging pensively from his neck. A wonderful, beautiful, reassuring smile paints his lips as he says, “I just felt like saying it. And it’s alright.”

Hot, very hot, very honest lips press themselves to your sweaty forehead, leaving a lingering kiss. The embrace resumes, this time your face pressed to the side of his neck, as he murmurs, “I don’t need you to say it back. I don’t need you to do anything, just… try to relax.”

Absurd. No one just throws their heart out like that to be eaten. No one with any common sense or self-respect.

You push yourself back from his chest, letting his hands fall, entwined, on your lower back. God, the heat is unbearable. “This is a big thing to say so casually. Why now?”

“Alright, you got me,” he chuckles. “I wanted to ask you something.” He scratches his neck and looks at you with timid hope.

His tone is playful, expectant to the point of twisting your guts. When all he’s confronted with is a pair of eyebrows raised into two inquisitive arches, he relents, “I want you to move in with me.”

You swallow your ice cube. With a painful gulp, it travels down your throat, and you can feel it passing your heart, your lungs, all the way down to your stomach. You can hear it dropping into the pool of acid with an echoing plop sound. Shit.

“Is this because he is here?”

“What? No—” his grossly hot hands cradle your cheeks, and you feel your skin warming up even more under his calloused fingers.

“Of course not. I have planned it, and I have proof,” he says calmly, pulling a set of extra keys from his back pocket and dangling them between your faces. “See?”

When no reaction comes from your side, just a stunned expression, he starts jangling them furiously and laughing.

His smile is blinding. Imperfect, teeth almost too big for his face, it makes his cheeks rise up, his eyes crinkle heavily, and he looks gorgeous.

“You are around all the time anyway. But fine—just promise you will think about it.”

Wordlessly, you take the keys from his hand and put them in your pocket. “This is not a yes. But I will think about it,” you shoot him a warning look, which softens immediately when you see him resist an expression of relief crawling up his face.

“And thank you,” you say with a tiny hint of a smile, placing a sweaty hand on his cheek and running your knuckles through his stubble.

“You should mingle. These are your friends, after all.”

Yes. These are your friends. Who, against their better judgement, haven’t ostracised you, as you were sure they would. Who have greeted you wholeheartedly at the doorstep with real, joyful hugs and expressions of relief upon seeing you. Jayce grabbed you tightly and lifted you off the floor, and Mel gave you a massive, loud smooch on the cheek, very aunt-worthy.

“What are you going to do? Just air out all evening?”

You relax into his touch, pushing your hands down his jeans’ back pockets.

“Oh, I’ll mingle. Just… later,” he smiles and kisses you lovingly.

His kisses are nice, though stressful. Like he is thanking you for existing and allowing him to stand by and maybe hijack your act of being. Even though he assures you there are none, the invisible, deniable mass of expectations makes you walk on wonky legs around him.

His hands cradle your shoulders, rubbing them so tenderly, you almost don’t mind the heat. Almost. Slowly, very slowly, his touch has crawled into your memory and become the default touch you expect whenever feeling the sensation of someone’s skin resting on yours, and sadly, a little part of your soul usually whines in disappointment at being touched at all. A good, uncomplicated man with enough insecurities to keep you relatively safe and complacent.

You give him one last lingering peck and head inside, letting the wave of inhumane temperature and the scent of sweat mixed with alcohol breath wash over you. Mel and Jayce live in an old building; no artificial air allowed. It reminds you of your previous place, where, against all odds, you slept naked, covered only by a thin sheet of cotton, just so you could wrap yourself around your skinny love. You push the memory away, as it twists your stomach.

A sea of teeth greets you indoors, one smile after the other, as you squeeze yourself through the crowd toward the kitchen. You march straight to the freezer to pour yourself another drink filled with ice cubes and sigh with relief when a cold gush fans your face.

“Good evening,” a voice startles you so hard you gasp.

Fuck.

You look to your right beyond your shield of the freezer door, and there they are—two slim calves draped over each other and a cane in front of them.

Still crouched, you take a fistful of ice from the drawer, stand up, and say only a stupid, “Hi.”

Viktor is studying you, like an owl would study a rodent. His eyes glint in the dusk, blinking slowly as if he is waiting for you to say anything that has more than one syllable.

He saw you coming in, and his heart skipped a beat. After a quick analysis of all the options he had, he chose the cowardly hideout in the bathroom, a splash of water onto his neck swollen from grinding teeth, and a couple of deep breaths stolen while sitting on the closed toilet.

You alone are enough to make his skin crawl, and yet, to ensure his ruin, you brought your ‘new project’ with you.

Tall, taller than Jayce, broad, broader than Jayce, a man who steals the gasps from the crowd wearing only a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. A complete embodiment of everything Viktor isn’t. A slap on the face, a shoe sole grinding it into his pride.

And now you are here, scrambling up from the floor, melting ice dripping through your fingers.

“How… are you?” you ask dumbly, before cringing at your own obsequious tone. You know exactly how he is. Mel has sneaked in a few text messages before you cut her off and changed the subject. Jayce has tried to contact you at the beginning but eventually stopped—possibly at Viktor’s request.

He looks like a man who has just recovered from a long, devastating disease and has managed to crawl his body into the outside world for the first time in months. And judging by the way you felt in the first two months, that might have been true.

But after the first two months, you met Paul. And Paul is warm and gentle, good at mending broken objects and skittish animals, so you are an obvious perfect fit. He also lies a lot about his life, films he’s seen, and books he’s read, but to peel that entire truth out from its shell you would have to spend more time with him.

He made the first step after buying a book from you. His hands were rough, his fingertips hardened from the heavy strings of a double bass, but his soul seemed clean, and he smelled nice.

He is a teacher by day and a musician by night, chasing his passion with a steady pace, happy to have two good hands that allow him to play, hug you, cook for you, and dance with you. He fixed his eyes on you as you carefully wrapped Coming Through Slaughter for him, while he threw silly remarks in your direction.

“You’re really good at this,” he said with a dumbfounded grin.

“Wrapping books?” You looked at him from underneath your glasses, but the contagion of his smile bled into you, and the quip held no power whatsoever.

He chuckled and slid you a flyer with a 20-dollar bill, brushing your fingers. “Come see my band tonight. I’ll buy you a drink.”

You took it but said nothing. With a teasing smile, you handed over his book and chanted the shop’s slogan, “Thank you for shopping at the Bookhounds of Brooklyn.”

He smiled back, tucked the package under his armpit, and gave you one last look. “See you tonight.”

You shook your head. But you went. And then you got stuck in the tight wrap of his arms holding you through the night. And then before you could stop it from getting serious, he met Mel and Jayce and pried them about your quirky behaviours between drinks and snacks. Before you could stop anything, Paul glued himself to your life and became a needy sticker you carried with you everywhere. Sometimes you caught yourself thinking awful things, like if Viktor felt the same around you when you probed him for chunks of words after he came back from work utterly defeated and worn out.

And now, while your chunk of beautiful meat is airing his arse outside, you are stuck in the kitchen with your ex. Three years flash behind your eyeballs as you wait for him to reply to your stupid question. “I’m… fine.”

The words come out choked, and Viktor scowls internally. He can feel the scrutiny of your stare and clears his throat. He is far from fine. He is beyond pissed with Jayce for not telling him you were bringing a plus one. He is pissed that your plus one is his exact opposite. He is absolutely livid with Jayce for telling him to act civil and try to rebuild the friendship—for Jayce’s sake. “Please, try, for me,” Jayce had pleaded, and Viktor could only scoff in his face.

But above all this, he feels a wave of white-hot anger anytime he thinks of you. The sight of you surges a blinding hatred through his veins, and he pictures your spine snapping in half. And above even this, he hates himself, because the sordid, unspoken truth is staring him in the face. He misses you with every bone in his body.

He misses your face. He misses your half-drunken cups of tea everywhere to the point where he has started doing it himself. He misses the weight of you on the mattress next to him. He misses your whining about the heat in his apartment in the summer and the chill in winter. He misses word wrestling with you. He misses your jokes. He misses fucking you. He misses your snoring.

He misses your hand at the nape of his neck late at night when he sits hunched over the desk, and he scolds himself for ever brushing it off, because there is a strong possibility that nobody will ever touch him like that again. That he will never want anyone to even try to mimic your touch.

“I can see that your new project proves successful?” Don’t sound so hurt. He shifts his weight on the cane and looks down at your hand, holding the ice out like an offering.

“Don’t call him that,” you scoff. This was such a bad idea. But if you were ever to emerge from your cave of love, where you have lived happily with Paul for the last four months, Mel’s birthday is the perfect occasion. And Jayce would probably give an arm and a leg to get his friends back.

“Forgive me. Your new affair goes well then,” he corrects himself with less emotion but an equal amount of venom as earlier. He feels like stabbing you with his shoulder blade.

“Viktor,” you sigh, defeated. “This isn’t an affair. It’s… serious.” Wrong word, very wrong, but unretrievable now. It sounds like an apology, your brows furrowing, your face twisting into an upside-down smile. It seems serious enough to be said out loud.

“Oh? Working fast. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Viktor turns away, but it takes him merely a beat to pick up what you were putting down. Serious. His lungs begin to burn. He wants to rub sand into his eyes and cover them with bleach, so he never has to look at you again.

“Viktor, it just happened. Please, let’s not do this here.”

Seeing him turning on his heel, you drop the remaining ice in the sink and reach out for him. Before you can grab his arm, he pauses.

“Apologies. We don’t have to do any of that, in fact, ever,” he throws over his shoulder.

You didn’t give him the benefit of the last conversation, so why would he? His lizard brain screams at him to flee and hide, away from your touch, from your eyes, from your ice-cold hand, from your hot mouth. But he isn’t fast enough.

Your hand lands on his forearm, and he freezes. He speaks your name softly, a plea to let him go as your touch burns him, even though your hand is wet and cold.

Part of him wants to grab it and lick the ice-cold water off your fingers. To choke on your tongue and beg you to come back to him. But this part of him is weak, and the stronger, wounded part wins. The one that shrugs your hand off in a familiar gesture, this time less painful, more anticipated than in the confines of Viktor’s apartment in the heat of last summer.

“I know you are hurting,” you say carefully. You know him well enough to recognize when his defences become ridiculous in their concentration of venom. If he were a cat, he would hiss at you and bend his spine into a banana.

“You know nothing,” he scoffs. “You cannot possibly know. Hiding away in shame for six months. How would you know? If you are happy and serious with someone else?”

Careful. He is inching toward saying too much. It feels like having open-heart surgery in front of a live studio audience, and no one even laughs. He wants to die and never be born again. He wants to disappear from the face of this sorry planet, just as you have disappeared from his life. He wants to kill Paul and wear his skin like a pelt, even though he doesn’t even know if the guy deserves it.

You feel the anger stirring somewhere within you at his behaviour. He is not the only person whose three-year relationship has fallen apart. He’s not the only one who mourned it and cried for it. It sounds great in your head, so:

“Viktor, you are not the only one—”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare tell me that you are hurting. It was fixable, and you—” he snarls, accentuating each sentence with a thump of his cane.

“If it were fixable, we would have fixed it. Viktor, please,” you plead quietly, trying not to drag anyone’s attention. You were supposed to be civil; Mel has asked you to.

“No. Just… stop. There was time for this, now it’s… it’s not the time. Enjoy your evening.” His voice strangles; his face paints in resignation as he leaves you alone in the kitchen.

How different this is to your first, to your second encounter, to all the encounters between your first and this one.

You remember it so well. Jayce was fuming when you told him what had gotten into your hands. The first English edition of Geometry and Experience by Albert Einstein. He wouldn’t be able to buy it, of course, but he really wanted to see it. He begged you to let him steal a glance and to let him bring a friend.

And so he brought his friend. You led them to the basement of the shop, where the book was resting on its plinth, in a special dust-free room with perfect temperature and perfect humidity. You took them to the shrine for books, and it felt almost religious.

And you remember the first time you laid your eyes on Viktor and blushed instantly at how his name rolled off his accented tongue when he introduced himself.

You remember how you thought this man was effortlessly everything. How you stole a glimpse of the column of his throat when he hummed in awe over the book and how you wondered if he would ever be willing to hum like that straight into your ear. How strangely erotic his hands were when you pictured them cradling your neck. How in this shrine, you would pray to him so he would do that in a sign of benediction.

Oh God, you wanted to take him home and just keep him there until he was out of breath.

And you remember how beautiful his face was when he first came into your mouth and how he immediately leaned in to kiss you, even before you could swallow. How you thought this was the most sensual thing anyone had ever done for you, with you, drinking his own cum from your tongue. The unity of bodies sealed with a kiss so grateful you almost fell apart.

The images of Viktor flood your mind’s eye: him drinking coffee on the windowsill, naked in the scorching summer sun as he warms his bones; his eyes observing you from between your thighs; him licking your face in a gross act of affection; slumped against the desk, asleep halfway through writing down his notes; sneaking behind you to warm his hands under your armpits; his face when he is sleeping, his hair scattered on the pillow; singular strands on the bathroom floor even though he always accuses you of losing hair; him pinning you down playfully when you win a banter over something and immediately groping your ass; him imitating trumpet sounds from your jazz records with his mouth; him drinking soup straight from the bowl; his glistening lips, his clean nails, his freckled chest.

You sink your teeth into your lip, feeling a rush of tears pooling in the corners of your eyes when Paul enters the kitchen. Always on time.

“Everything alright?” The way Paul hangs himself from the doorframe and immediately lights up when he sees you. The way he walks up and hugs your head to his chest, saying your name softly and making soothing sounds straight into your ear. Ah, yes, he is exactly what you need.

“Nothing, just… you know,” you sigh, relaxing into his touch.

“It’s okay,” he hums softly. “Do you want to scram?” He pulls away from you to lay a lifeboat at your feet.

“Oh God, yes, please,” you let out a breath you’ve been holding, and it feels so good your eyes roll. Anything but another encounter with the ghost of the love of your life. Of the former love of your life.

“Let’s go then,” he says, taking your hand and leading you discreetly to the hallway.

Mel stops the two of you in your tracks. “You cannot be serious right now,” she hisses, though not unkindly. Big, comical eyes accompany the hiss, so you know she isn’t really angry. “Viktor left; you don’t have to run away, guys,” she adds, a plea in her voice evident.

“Mel, I’ll meet you for coffee? This has been... lovely, I’m just—” You are just so utterly devastated that even if Viktor disappeared from the face of this planet, you wouldn’t want to stay.

“Oh, please, do not try to bullshit me. I’m sorry about this, Paul, but I need to speak some sense into this fool.” She waves a mass of your man away from you to grab your forearms. “Nobody is angry with you. We miss you. Please, you guys have to work this out. Jayce is still heartbroken, and I can’t do anything about it,” she says quietly, her voice laced with sincerity and helplessness.

Jayce was really heartbroken about your heartbreak. On the night of the event, Jayce found Viktor struggling to breathe in his apartment, so he took him home and kept him on his couch for a week, to Mel’s initial disapproval. But when she saw Viktor on the doorstep of her flat—when he clung to her and sobbed with a dry cry, repeating, “She’s gone,” over and over again; when she saw the marks on his palms where his nails had dug into the skin—she was ready to give him her own bed.

Mel felt bad in that moment because she knew it would happen. You had told her how hopeless everything had turned. That Viktor wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t try, and how the two of you had grown estranged, guarded, distant, and how you couldn’t pinpoint the moment when things had started to fall apart. How he would flinch away from your touch and sleep miles away from you, a vast, uncaring space between the two of you in your tiny bed.

So she held him, soothing his cries. She made him a cup of tea, gave him her favourite blanket, and kissed his forehead before turning off the coffee table lamp in their lounge. Then she went to slump her body next to Jayce, whose face had never been more worried. He asked her how Viktor was, and all she could do was shake her head in resignation.

“For now, it looks bad,” she said, cradling Jayce’s head to her chest and running her fingers through his hair. “But these things pass, you know,” she mused gently, not believing herself, and she was sure Jayce didn’t believe it either.

“I don’t get it. I know there were… issues, but this—” His voice got lost somewhere between his throat and mouth. Jayce only knew this much. He only knew what Viktor had told him, and Viktor said only that there were issues.

He didn’t tell Jayce how you had asked him if he was having an affair. How he had outright laughed in your face. How he had said, “That’s rich,” laced with venom. How he had hissed that you should get some help if the first thing you assumed was that. How egocentric you were if you didn’t see the stress he was under, presuming the long hours spent fighting for his—your—future were spent in someone else’s arms. How shitty you were for even suggesting it, after all his past love confessions. How you wouldn’t give him any time. And how you had said a year is a long time—how, within a year, millions of people are born and die, and he had barely touched you twice.

He didn’t tell Jayce how annoyed he was with your half-empty cups leaving pale rings on his wooden furniture. How annoyed he was that you couldn’t even take care of plants, and he had to come back home just to water them; otherwise, he could just spend all his time at work. How your dusty books spilling out of a bookshelf he had bought for you had annoyed him. How utterly pissed off he was when you would open the windows in the summer, letting the scorching heat inside. How it had started to make his skin crawl when you would whine along to the scratched records of Robert Johnson—and how they were scratched because you had no respect for the hardworking needle of your turntable.

And he didn’t tell Jayce how annoying your hair on the bathroom floor was, or how it drove him mad that you would move objects around into illogical spaces, only for your convenience, completely disrespectful of his previous order. How he hated the dusty pink wall you had painted together. And he didn’t tell Jayce how he wanted to slap you, to touch you, to make love to you when he was sad—but he couldn’t, because everything felt overwhelming, and nothing had felt right. And the only certain thing in his life was that when he came back home to water the plants, you would be there—sad, but you would be there—still wanting him, waiting for a moment when he would be ready to come back to you.

And later, he didn’t tell Jayce how he had discovered that the hair on the bathroom floor was, in fact, his, and how stupid he had felt about collecting it and putting it in an envelope, and the envelope in the box, alongside commemorative trinkets that you had left behind.

But once Jayce rushed to his aid, he instantly knew. When he saw Viktor curled up on the couch, holding your scarf in one hand and a crumpled note in the other, gasping for air, crying, he knew.

“Oh, there was more than issues, Jayce. I just… hoped they would finally talk,” Mel sighed. She had given you all the advice she could think of, but Viktor repelled every seductive technique she had sold to you in secrecy under girl’s code.

“You didn’t see him, Mel. He couldn’t breathe, I—”

“I know. I should probably check on her, though. I only got the voicemail, and then Viktor called,” she referred to your sobby message. Mel, I can’t breathe. I left, and I feel like I’ve died. After that, your phone was off—for a week. Utterly neurotic and dramatic.

But your undoing was relatively peaceful. Numbing, almost. Quiet, save for the constant wail of Sinead O’Connor. And no, not Nothing Compares To You. Drink Before The War.

It felt like being shot through a cannon into space—weightless and hopeless. The infected wound, previously festering, was now being painfully cleaned; remnants of rotten tissue pulled away, sewn up with a crude needle, leaving an empty spot under the skin to create an ingrown scar that would always remind you of him.

Your stuff was still in boxes, hanging in limbo between going back and moving forward. The number of times you had written a text, deleted it, written it again, deleted it, written it again, deleted it to write only a “hi,” and deleted that as well. The number of times your hand had hovered over the button and never pressed it. The number of times your feet had carried you to check if the light was on, and the way your heart hurt when it wasn’t. That was your bargaining phase. It lasted three days until it bloomed into depression.

You found yourself warming up the same cup of coffee six times a day. And you drank it from your least favourite cup. You were making food that you ended up not eating after all. You were confessing your sins to objects around the apartment. A lot of tears, very few showers, hair greasy for weeks.

Until, one day, you woke up with complete clarity—that when your eyes opened, you would find yourself in your own apartment, not Viktor’s. With a certainty that, beside you, your bed would be empty. And it would no longer be a shock that struck you like a slap. And you would no longer wake up from a dream in which you talked to him and be confused that he wasn’t there by your side. The derealisation would leave you, to settle in the grimmest phase of grief—bitter, heart-wrenching acceptance.

The last time you had tried to call him was three months ago. Barely two weeks after meeting Paul. Only to sigh and discover you were still blocked. There was one more time when you tried sending an email, but you cringed at the thought. How utterly crude, sending an email to his work mailbox. How utterly impersonal, how disrespectful.

And you thought you had been cured. That the only side effect of your three-year affliction would be an everlasting discomfort. The rest of it was something you had refused to touch. And now it had touched you. It had touched you through Viktor’s sad eyes, through his disappointed voice, through his hunch, through the crinkle in his shirt indicating that he debated whether to come to Mel’s birthday until the very last minute. And you were sure he wished he hadn’t come.

“I… I tried, Mel. He doesn’t want to talk to me,” you sigh heavily, an apology written all over your face. But Mel wouldn’t have it.

“Try harder. He was a friend before this. You were. We were all friends, and now Viktor barely says a word to Jayce because he thinks we’re taking sides.” Mel’s inquisitive eyes linger on you, and seeing you flinch at her last words, she adds, “Which we are not. We get it. Just… please.”

“Mel, he blocked me everywhere. For all I know, he’s also changed the locks.” Your voice cracks, and the thought of Paul lingering nearby and possibly hearing every word makes your face hot with shame.

Your friend sighs, her eyes softening. “Alright. Okay, I shouldn’t do this,” she says, glancing around to check if anyone could hear you. She leans in closer and hushes into your ear, “Jayce is meeting him next Friday at noon at the second-hand furniture shop. Viktor asked for help with transport.”

“And I’m supposed to crash their date? You think this will fix things?” You scoff, bewildered. It sounds like a particularly bad plot.

“I’m leaving the decision to you. And if something is stupid but it works, then it wasn’t stupid in the first place,” she states, placing two kisses on your cheeks. “Please don’t be a stranger anymore.”

“That I can do. The other… well, I can try,” you whisper, shielding it from Paul’s ears. Seeing you exchange goodbyes, he walks over and asks if you are ready. When you nod, he takes your hand and leans in to kiss Mel’s cheek. “Happy birthday.” Which also meant, “I know what it’s like to be in the drama and not be part of the drama.”

“My place or yours?” he asks as you walk sluggishly in the still unbearable heat of the night. “Uh… could we do both tonight? I’m… shattered.” What you mean is, “My mind is unsound. I’m afraid I’ll be crying all night, and I don’t want you to see it. I don’t want to make you feel horrible. Please let me be alone.”

Paul pauses momentarily, gives you a heavy sigh, though his tone remains warm. “Don’t you think it’s better to just… move on?”

You take a moment to stare. “Yes, um… that would be ideal. Though not so easy to do.” Your tone is very matter-of-fact since you used up most of your self-control to not shoot back, “You don’t fucking say.”

“Well, are you intending to? At some point at least?” he muses, playing with your fingers, his eyes low, fixed on his shoes.

“Paul, I mean—” you sigh, dropping your hand from his. “If there is a chance I can fix the friendship, I will cling onto it, you know this.” Your arms cross on your chest as you take one step away from him.

“No, I get it—I am friends with my exes,” he smiles, scratching the nape of his neck. “I just don’t think that little guy will make it so easy for you, is all.”

“Please don’t call him that,” you scoff again, growing annoyed and uncomfortable in the corner he’s trying to lure you into. “He is just hurt,” you manage to say, and it is mercy.

“I know what it’s like to break up, you know,” Paul says, having no idea what it was like to break up with Viktor. “And I get that it hurts. All I’m saying is that we only hurt as long as we don’t move on,” says Paul, having no idea how much love can hurt.

You sigh, shaking your head. Your mouth opens and closes into a fake smile as you give him a cold kiss on the cheek and whisper, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

Only when the door to your apartment slams shut do you allow yourself to breathe again. A couple of shuddering breaths, despite the heat. Cold hands and feet. Viktor’s arm beneath your palm. A millisecond in which it felt familiar to touch him. You feel the burn in your sinuses, and your mouth goes dry. Suddenly, you notice the agonising cold of your stuffy flat.

And when you finally manage to throw yourself into bed with a punched-out gasp, you keep lingering around Viktor. A harrowing thought blights your brain—one that you don’t dare speak aloud; you can only scream it into the void.

And you have no idea that Viktor is thinking about you as well, as he comes undone in someone else’s arms. And he imagines it’s your hands that bring him over the edge. And that it’s your hair he breathes in when he falls asleep. And he has the same harrowing thought that you have, but he doesn’t dare speak it aloud either.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #nothings new

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illbegottenfaith · 2 months ago

Note

hey!! i loved ur handwritten fic with the notes it was absolutely amazing, do u think u could make a pt 2 of that or just another fic with that format? thank u!! <3

handwritten pt 2 - theo nott x reader

yours and theo's story as told through notes passed in class

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - thank you so much for this lovely!! it gave me the motivation I needed to clean up the dribs and drabs I had drafted out so here it is <3 I have plans/ideas for future chapters too (similar format but might not be restricted to just notes 👀) but I'm not sure how long of a series it'll actually end up being. enjoy!

tropes/warnings - fluff, a little more angst than the last chapter, newstudent!theo, estranged friends to lovers

word count - 1.9k

Saturday, 9.48 pm, The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade

You okay?

Yeah, why?

You’re awfully quiet. And you’ve been staring into your empty butterbeer for the past ten minutes, so either it was terrible or you’re plotting something.

Ha-ha.

You hate this, don’t you?

They’re just not the kind of people I hang out with.

Let’s get out of here.

Are you kidding? This party is for you, Theo.

Look at them. They’re drunk off their tits. No one’s going to mind.

No, stay. I might call it a night soon, though.

Are you sure?

Yeah. Don't worry about me, I’m just not used to hanging out with these kinds of people.

What kind?

I don’t know. Quidditch players. Hooligans. It’s not really my scene.

I didn’t know you felt that way.

I didn’t want to spoil your night.

Listen, it’s getting late. I should probably head back.

Okay. Get your coat, I'll settle the bill.

No, it’s fine, I can pay for my drink. Besides, you should stay.

At least let me walk you back.

Stay. I mean it.

Fine, but I’m paying for your drink. And before you say anything, it’s one lousy butterbeer. Consider it compensation for ruining your evening.

You didn’t ruin my evening. I liked the part when we walked here together. I don’t mind this too much either - scribbling on napkins.

Let me walk you back. Please.

Saturday, 10.19 pm, Ravenclaw Dormitories, Hogwarts

What's with the notebook?

Sorry, Ivan's finally passed out and I don't want to wake him. He hasn't been able to sleep all week, can you imagine? It's that stupid Herbology project - y'know, the one that Katie's been simmering those mandrakes for - I swear, he's so tense in the shoulders. I finally got him to nod off after dinner and it just seems cruel to wake him up and make him go allll the way down to his dorm :(

Fine, but Merlin help you when Katie wakes up and finds him still here. I still can't wrap my head around how much he lets you baby him. He's a Slytherin, for God's sake.

Please, he knew what he was getting himself into. If anything, I think the babying might have been a motivating factor. Anyway, how was the party?

Okay, I think. I kissed him. On the cheek.

YOU'RE going to wake Ivan. Have some goddamn self-control.

OH I KNEW ITTT I knew it the moment he walked into Charms class and you looked up and your eyes met and you lost your tongue and when you looked back he had that shy sort of smile I just KNEW he was going to be so good for you. Because he is, Y/N. He might be the best thing that's happened to you.

Gosh, relax. It's not like it meant anything. What's a little friendly peck between friends here and there? I just did it so he wouldn't follow me back to the castle like a lost puppy. Besides, he's not that perfect.

A real human being with real human flaws? You don't say.

It's hard to explain. He's only being this nice because he knows what he's done.

What has he done?

Some pretty hard-to-forgive stuff. I don't want to get into it right now.

Have you?

Have I what?

Forgiven him.

I don't know. I mean, I see him trying to reach out, but every time, even now, with the party - something stops me from...fully connecting. Something holds me back.

I don't think I have.

Monday, 9.13 am, Charms

Did you get back alright?

Yup.

I wanted to come check, but the guys...

I told you they weren't going to let their guest of honour run off. So how was the rest of the night?

Middling. They started up a game of strip poker when we got back.

Oh.

Allegedly, normal poker was too ordinary for a night as special as that.

You're kidding, right?

Oh my fucking god, you gamble??

Who said the poker had anything to do with gambling?

So you don’t gamble?

I didn’t say that.

Theo.

OUCH enough with the pinching! I've already had ten years too many of it.

I can't help that it's the only way to get you to behave.

I don’t see what the problem is. It’s my money to use as I see fit. Plus, I'm very careful about the people I play with. Merlin knows we have too much anyway.

Unbelievable. Gambling, really? Why not just drop out of Hogwarts and live slot machine to slot machine, huh? Why don't you just set up shop at some casino in Las Vegas?

I'm very confused. Do you want to go to Vegas?

You have the attention span of a fruit fly.

Because that's not a half-bad idea. We could make a whole trip out of it over the summer.

Your friends need to introduce you to more legal forms of recreation. What are you doing Wednesday night?

Nothing yet.

Good. I'm teaching you Exploding Snap.

Isn't that a kid's game?

FUCK I'm SORRY but DO NOT pinch me in the same place twice.

Oh, quit whining. You'll live.

Barely. If you keep this up, I'm going to start sitting far far away from you and those PINCERS you call fingers.

Wednesday, 1.02 pm, Potions

I ran into Katie on the way here and Merlin, she was in hysterics. I'm out of the room for one night and I miss you making out with Loverboy in our dorm??? Geez, at least put a sock on the door.

We were not making out!!! Katie just walked in at an unfortunate time.

Uh-huh.

Look, he was the one who showed up at the window on his broom, drunk out of his mind.

Drunk??

I know! What was he thinking, risking his neck all the way up there at the Ravenclaw dorms?? It was like he didn't even notice too. I thought I was hallucinating at first, but then I opened the window and nope, that was him, and then I screamed and he nearly fell off his broom so I hauled him inside. He practically faceplanted on the floor. I was terrified - I thought he was poisoned or something, but then I tried to prop him up and he had this dopey look on his face and he reeked of firewhiskey. Ugh, it was so annoying. I don’t want to talk about it.

You know what he said to me? After all that?

I thought you didn’t want to talk about this?

Uh-oh.

Uh-oh?

Uh-oh. Like a goddamn Looney Tunes character.

Looney Tunes?

Never mind. He was all ‘uh-oh, you’re mad at me’ while I was trying to get him to drink some coffee and I was like yeah, no shit, you look like you’re seconds away from puking all over my dorm. And then he started…he started talking about the party, and me leaving, and how sorry he was he brought me in the first place.

Aww.

I know, right? I felt like crap. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal to him.

Of course it was a big deal. That was him introducing you to his new friends.

Exactly, new friends. What does he want with me?

Y/N, are you daft? Do you not see the way he looks at you? He so clearly cares what you think about his friends.

What on earth are you talking about?

Ivan's on the team so they hang out together sometimes and he says Theo's a lot different around you. He doesn't swear as much, he drops his voice a little and he's extra attentive. Hell, he nearly got into a fight with some dunce in our year over the way that guy was talking about you. Y/N, he obviously cares about you so, so much. Please tell me you didn’t say anything too harsh.

I called the whole lot of them hooligans.

NOOOOO

But t's true!! Have you seen their matches? How they don't rip each other to shreds is beyond me. But I didn't mean that he was like that. Theo could never be like them. He'd play a good, fair, clean game.

Yeah. Sure.

What's that supposed to mean?

You haven't watched a single one of his practices, have you?

No. Should I?

Never mind. What happened next?

That's when things started going downhill. He started trying to remove his shirt because it was so hot from Katie’s blasted simmering pot of mandrakes. I was trying to stop him, only he wasn’t listening, and apparently he gets rather clingy and touchy when he’s, y’know, tipsy, and then…Katie walked in.

Damn.

Of course that's when he decides to sober up, so I look like an idiot while everyone in the room - yes! even him!!! - wants to know what I’m doing in his lap. He was sooooo polite too, as if he hadn’t just rudely breaking-and-entering’d his way into my room. ‘Oh, hello, Y/N. What a tastefully decorated room you have, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re sitting so close, Y/N?’ As if I want to be sitting in his lap!

Right.

Because I don’t.

Okay.

‘Cause that would be so weird.

Mhm.

Like…ew.

Okay, okay. I get it. I believe you.

He wouldn’t even let me get up or anything. Just kept talking to Katie about the weather with his hand on my thigh, casual as ever. I swear, if that teammate of his - what's his name, Mattheo? - hadn't come looking for him, I don't know how I would have gotten him down to his dorm.

What a thriller of a story, from start to finish.

Yeah, well, I could do it with a little less thrill in my life.

Aw, I think it was sweet. That disaster of a party was clearly eating at him.

Yeah. I mean, we're friends. It should bother him if I've had a shitty night, right? But also...we're just friends.

For the record, you're a different person around him too.

Psh. Yeah right.

Different how?

Ivyyyy

Thursday, 3.07 pm, Defence Against the Dark Arts

How’s your hand?

Doing very badly, thank you very much.

I have to say, I didn’t take you to be this sore of a loser.

My fingertips have been singed off. Forgive me if I seem a little sulky.

Aww. Was the kid's game a little too hard for the big, manly, Quidditch player?

You tricked me. You didn't even tell me all of the rules before we started playing.

Oh, come on. You knew enough to play.

But not to win!

Yes, well, I wasn't about to hand you a victory on a silver platter. I thought Slytherins were supposed to be clever, or something. Maybe you're the 'something.'

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. We'll see who's laughing after next week's chess match.

Does it hurt a lot? Your fingers?

For a lesser man? Perhaps. I think I'm dealing with the pain quite well, actually.

So if we didn't have class, you'd be -?

Writhing on the floor of my dorm.

Ah, I see. Poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?

Promises, promises.

But you still had fun, didn’t you?

It is quite the adrenaline rush.

I knew it.

Alas, my fingertips…

Oh, sod off. You always were the biggest drama queen.

#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott angst #requests

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azzifuddslover · 2 months ago

Text

༯ OFF THE COURT — CHAPTER SIX 𝜗𝜚

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

themes: angst, pining, possession, jealousy

tw: swearing, light injury

word count: 3.8k

a/n: i liked writing this one but it’s kinda all over the place lol. azzi is really in her oblivious era 🙄 and please ignore how everything in this chapter has already happened.. anyway please please lemme know how y’all like it! enjoyyy

azzi strolls into her and caroline’s shared dorm, still out of it from everything that went down in paige’s room just hours prior.

caroline rests on her bed, curled up in a ball with a book in her hands. her eyes snap to azzi as she makes her entrance, prepared and willing to apologize profusely.

azzi lets out a quiet sigh, not quite ready to talk with caroline just yet. instead, she goes into their small kitchen, opens the fridge and grabs an unopened water, taking a few sips. she also spots leftover chocolate chip muffins that her and caroline had baked recently, and snatches one of those to snack on as well.

azzi makes her way into their bedroom eventually, finally deciding to talk to her best friend. she hates fighting with her— can’t stand it, actually.

“hey,” azzi waves at carol, taking a bite of the muffin.

“azzi, i’m so sorry,” caroline apologizes, shutting her book to give her undivided attention to her friend. “i promise i was going to tell you eventually, i just figured i’d let you and paige work things out before getting involved. you have to know that.”

azzi’s lips tug into a small smile, “i understand, babe. it’s already forgotten.”

she wasn’t lying, either. it was forgotten— something, someone took her mind straight off it.

caroline lets out a breath of relief, touching her hand to her heart. “oh, that’s good. i truly am sorry.”

azzi just laughs at the brunette’s reaction while continuing to snack on her muffin.

“so, how’s the book? i’ve been dying to read that one,” azzi asks, changing the subject.

“it’s so good, you’ll love—“ caroline cuts herself off, “azzi fudd, look at me right now.”

azzi’s head snaps to caroline, “what?” she questions, genuinely confused.

caroline gasps, covering at mouth with both hands, “oh my god! i can’t believe this!” she stands up, approaching the curly headed girl, “who am i kidding, i totally can believe this.”

“what are you talking about?”

“look in the fucking mirror, az!” caroline exclaims.

azzi’s eyes widen as it clicks in her brain. she rushes into the bathroom and instantly covers her mouth in shock. fucking paige.

a trail of hickeys are scattered along her neck, all down her collarbone. heat reaches her cheeks as she shakes her head in disbelief.

“oh jesus,” azzi murmurs.

caroline appears behind her, looking directly in the mirror, making eye contact with her friend. a loud laugh leaves her lips, unable to hold it together.

azzi turns around, finding it extremely unfunny. she gives carol a shove, “it’s not fucking funny, asshole!”

caroline plants a hand over her mouth in hopes to control her chuckle, “i’m sorry, babe. but seriously? we were just talking about this yesterday and it happened overnight?”

azzi opens her mouth to explain herself, but closes it when she can’t find the words.

“tell me everything that happened,” caroline smiles, excitement buzzing off her.

azzi and carol leave the bathroom, entering their shared bedroom and sitting on the two beds, facing one another.

“where do i even start,” azzi quietly asks herself, before beginning to go over everything that went down between paige and her from the night before.

“no, az, you said to forget about it? why would you do that?” caroline questions after azzi wraps up the explanation of her trail of hickeys.

azzi shakes her head as regret sets in. “i panicked, okay? i didn’t wanna screw things up.”

“but what’s wrong with changing how things are between you two? you clearly like one another, so what’s the big deal?”

azzi looks at her friend, “that’s the thing, carol. she doesn’t like me. i mean, maybe a little, but not like that. she never wanted to kiss me to begin with— i was the one to initiate it.”

caroline smirks while shaking her head at azzi’s comment, “babe, i love you and all, but you’re being dumb.”

azzi scrunches her eyebrows at her friend, “what? why?”

“paige loves you, idiot! i know it, everyone knows it; she knows it, even if she doesn’t wanna admit it,” carol begins, “she always makes little glances at you during practices, she practically glows when someone mentions you around her. and on top of all of that, she always finds a way to be near you whenever you’re around!”

azzi gapes at caroline’s reasoning, shock crashing onto her features. unsure how to respond, she stays silent, letting a comfortable silence settle between the two freshmen.

“you’re wrong, carol,” azzi finally responds, shaking her head. she has to be wrong.

“like hell i am!” caroline shouts. “and do you really think she’d fuck you without any feelings involved?”

azzi’s lips curl into a line, “i’ve heard she’s done it before.”

“azzi, everyone has casual hookups. i’m not talking about that. it’s different with you.”

“you don’t know that,” azzi responds.

“we’ll see in practice tomorrow,” caroline says to her friend.

“we sure will,” azzi folds her arms over her chest in challenge.

the following day, azzi immediately forces all the paige’s thoughts away, at least for a little while so she can focus on doing better in practice.

she rolls out of bed, rubbing her eyes and letting out a soft yawn. she washes her face, follows her short and simple skincare routine before applying concealer to the marks paige left behind on her neck, trying her best to hide them. even after three layers, they’re still slightly noticeable.

she throws on practice clothes before heading out the door with caroline by her side.

“did you make sure to cover your little love bites?” carol snickers from beside azzi.

azzi rolls her eyes, “yes, caroline. not like it’s gonna last, though.”

caroline nods in agreement. once azzi starts to sweat, the concealer will definitely wear off, leaving azzi’s neck exposed.

a flash of panic runs through azzi, “you don’t think paige told anyone, right?”

carol slugs her arm around the freshmen’s shoulders, tugging her close. “nah, not yet, at least. it’ll be fine, az.”

“i hope you’re right.”

azzi’s performance is definitely an improvement from yesterday; her shots falls in almost everytime, she completes simple layups with a grin on her face.

paige notices this, and decides to approach the younger girl, despite her brain screaming not to.

“i see you’re doing better,” paige notes, a tiny smirk on her lips as she stares at azzi.

azzi locks eyes with paige and takes a small step backwards. she figured paige would keep her distance, considering what she told her yesterday, but apparently, paige has other plans.

“yeah, guess so,” azzi mutters, taking her attention off paige and back onto shooting.

paige continues to stare at her, awkwardly standing with a basketball in her hands.

“do you need something?” azzi asks, arching a brow.

“uh,” paige begins but her words soon trail off as she catches sight of the faint marks on azzi’s neck, scattered along her neck and collarbone area.

azzi glances at paige, confusion setting in at paige’s wandering eyes. “what?”

paige blinks, her lips pressing into a thin line as she clears her throat. “um, guess i got a little carried away earlier,” she mutters as she shallows dryly. “didn’t realize i left marks.”

azzi’s cheeks flush, unconsciously grabbing her neck. “yeah, you did.”

“sorry about that,” paige attempts a small smile at azzi, who doesn’t return it. instead, she stares at paige with an unreadable expression on her face.

“it’s fine,” azzi whispers, going back to shooting, subtly hinting for paige to leave.

paige takes the hint and soon backs away from the curly haired brunette, going back to her own dibbling drills she was previously doing with jana and aubrey. she can’t help but feel embarrassed that azzi can shut what happened between them down. it clearly wasn’t that easily for paige.

paige feels for azzi, whether she was ready to admit it or not. that night they shared together meant something to her— meant everything to her. how was she supposed to forget it happened when every time she saw azzi, it all came rushing back?

days went by with azzi and paige keeping their distance from each other. the two barely interacted during practices, barely even glanced in the others direction.

regardless of their little contact, paige still yearned for azzi. she physically couldn’t get their shared night out of her head; the feel of azzi’s lips on hers, her tongue against hers, her taste. she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t late nights where her fingers didn’t end up in her pants at the memory of azzi. there most definitely was.

but today was game day, so the blonde tried her best to focus her attention on basketball, and not the brunette that wouldn’t even glance her way anymore.

the uconn women’s basketball team, along with iowa state, the opponent, took their time getting warmed up and stretched. by the time both teams were ready to start, paige was relaxed and confident in her game.

the girls are playing well— paige has 15 points and azzi equips 17 before halftime arrives.

30 seconds until the halftime buzzer goes off. the whistle blew sharply, cutting through the noise of the crowd. paige has her hands on the ball, scanning her surroundings for any open teammates. azzi is planted in the corner, setting up for a 3 shot she could easily make. out of the corner of her eye, azzi spots a player from iowa state approaching her, in attempts to guard the freshmen. paige throws the ball to azzi after noticing she’s open. azzi scans the court, waiting for the perfect moment to take the shot. she dribbles once, then twice, pivoting to create space between the defender and herself. the player belonging to iowa state closes in, aggressive and quick. azzi shifts to her right, trying to get the open shot, but as she plants her foot to push off, the defender lungs at her— her elbow unintentionally catching azzi in the ribs.

azzi lets out a sharp gasp when she stumbles backwards. her ankle twists slightly as she tries to catch herself, but ultimately loses her balance and crashes hard to the floor. the air leaves her lungs in a painful rush.

“azzi!” paige’s voice breaks through the noise of the game, full of concern and worry. one minute she was on the other side of the court, and in an instant, she was sprinting towards where azzi’s lays. she reaches azzi, who attempts to sit up, hand clutching her ribs, wincing in pain.

“hey, hey, you okay?” paige kneels beside her, placing both hands on azzi’s face, eyes wide and mouth ajar. there was a noticeable anger in her tone, and before azzi knew it, paige turns her head at the iowa state defender, who was standing there, oblivious. “what the hell was that?”

the defender, a bit stunned at paige’s outburst, takes a gentle, cautious step back. “i didn’t mean to—“

“i don’t care if you meant to or not!” paige snaps, her eyes narrow.

the ref was already approaching the commotion, but paige ignores him, attention fixed on azzi. she reaches out to once again cup the younger girls face in her hands. “azzi, look at me. are you okay? can you breathe?”

azzi, still dazed at her fall, pulls her eyes to paige’s. her body almost instantly relaxes with paige’s hands on her face and eyes fixated solely on azzi. “i think i twisted my ankle a bit. and my ribs hurt.. but i’m okay.”

paige takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. she removes her hands off azzi’s figure, placing them restlessly at her sides.

suddenly, aubrey, nika as well as coach auriemma appear behind paige— coach looking pissed.

“oh my god, azzi, are you okay?” nika questions, concerned for her teammate.

“i’m all good, nik,” azzi replies, attempting a small smile for reassurance.

“paige,” coach auriemma says, eyes flaming with anger.

paige flicks her eyes at coach as nerves set in for the sophomore. oh well, she thought. defending azzi was more important than a lecture she’ll receive later on.

azzi tries to get up on her own, struggles a little before the blonde offers both hands out to azzi. paige helps azzi to her feet, still clutching her ribs in pain. paige lets go of azzi’s hands, only to move one arm loosely around her waist and position herself at the brunettes side.

the two girls head into the locker room, paige’s arm never moves from azzi’s frame. for support, she repeats to herself. the other players follow as well, all concerned for the freshmen. azzi is a big part of their teams success— she had to be okay.

azzi lowers herself onto the bench once they make it to the locker room for halftime, carefully and cautiously. paige continues to linger close to her.

before paige could get a word out, coach auriemma shouts her name, calling the sophomore over. paige groans as azzi quietly chuckles, already expecting a long lecture.

the game eventually ended, uconn winning by a landslide. azzi, for the last two quarters, rested on the bench, not wanting to risk getting further injured.

azzi is sprawled out in her bed, caroline sitting in hers with her nose in her current read, when a text from the team group chat comes through.

azzi reaches for her phone— wanna go to ted’s at 8? nika’s text read.

azzi mentally groans, not wanting to leave her room, much less leave her bed. she lets out a soft sigh, knowing caroline will drag her there regardless of her answer.

me and azzi are in! caroline quickly sends, not even bothering to ask azzi prior. typical, azzi thinks to herself.

each teammate, besides ashlynn, who was crammed with studying and said she couldn’t make it, agrees to ted’s.

caroline practically throws her book down, rushing to get up and get herself ready for the night at the bar. azzi closes her eyes in defeat, pulling her blanket over her face to capture her annoyance.

carol yanks the blanket out of azzi’s grip, not having it with azzi’s stubborn pleas. “get up,” she says firmly at her friend.

azzi rolls her eyes, groaning again for good measure. she takes her time getting up from the bed, not wanting to push her ankle. it remains sore, but she’s able to walk decent. her ribs, however, have a large bruise from the iowa state player’s elbow.

azzi and caroline get dressed with music playing in the background from carol’s phone. azzi picks out a pink tank top, long enough to cover her noticeable bruise, and a pair of jean shirts: her go-to going out outfit.

around 7:50 pm, the two roommates make their way to the bar, azzi still buzzing with frustration from being forced out of her comfortable state. all she wanted was a chill night in, or maybe binge watch her favorite tv series again.

the door creaks as it swings open, the sound of loud chants makes azzi take a cautious step back. ted’s, as usual, is packed with uconn students. there was a faint clink of glass on glass cutting through the air, mingling with the deeper thud of bottles being slammed onto the counter. somewhere in the background, a jukebox crackles, its song barely audible over the noise of the overlapping voices.

azzi’s eyes wander, trying to find any of her teammates she planned to meet up with, coming up with none. her and caroline stood close, not wanting to lose one another in the buzzing crowd.

they sat themselves in open seats along the bar, after what felt like ages searching for. behind the bar, a male bartender’s rag swishes against a dirty glass as he glances at the two girls. laughter erupts at one end of the room, loud and brash, before it falters into a sputtering cough.

“what can i get you ladies?” the bartenders smiles kindly at them.

“i’ll just take a margarita,” azzi returns the smile.

“me too,” carol agrees, making it easier for the bartender, since he’s clearly overwhelmed with the crowd.

“coming right up,” the man throws his rag over his shoulder as he reaches for a clean glass.

out of the corner of azzi’s eye, she catches a glimpse of nika, with paige and kk right on her heels.

the three didn’t notice the two freshmen quite yet, however. they sat themselves at a nearby table, navigating their way through the packed bar, before going up and ordering their own drinks of choice.

paige’s eyes lock on azzi’s once she reaches the bar, their distance closing in. a smirk lingers on her lips, yet azzi looks away, embarrassed and confused from their interaction earlier that day.

the two don’t speak. paige is deeply engrossed in a conversation with kk, waiting for her drink to be made, and rushes back to their table without a glance back at the younger girl. not that azzi cares, that is.

azzi grips her drink, taking sips, wanting to savor it for the moment.

“i’m going to the bathroom,” carol says with urgency, getting up out of her chair. azzi responds with a simple nod in acknowledgment.

minutes pass; azzi stays firmly planted in her seat, glancing at paige ever so often, before focusing on her phone.

azzi’s gaze flickers around the room, idle but alert, until a woman around her age suddenly slides into the now empty seat caroline was sitting in previously.

“i couldn’t help but notice you from across the room,” the woman smiles at the brunette, “i’m talia.”

“azzi, and thanks, i guess,” azzi stumbles over her words, nervous at the attention she typically never gets.

azzi’s smile is polite, but her eyes flash with hesitation. she didn’t come here to flirt— especially with a complete stranger.

“what are you drinking? i’ll buy you another,” talia says, determination laced in her tone.

azzi is hesitant, “you really don’t have to.”

“i insist.”

azzi smirks at her, before agreeing, “alright then. a margarita, thanks.”

talia, a pretty blonde with loose curls, just like azzi’s, resting on her shoulders. her eyes were olive green, eyelashes long in length, perky breasts sitting nicely in her tank top. azzi definitely didn’t hate looking at her.

an unnecessarily loud chuckle interrupts the two girl’s conversation. azzi turns her head, eyes immediately landing on paige who stands at her table, clutching her glass tightly. she’s staring—she focuses on the woman in front of her, choosing to ignore the fuming blonde. they discuss their interests, azzi mentions she plays basketball for uconn, and what not.

paige’s gaze lingers on azzi longer than intended: an unreadable expression on her face. the sophomore gives them a couple minutes as she silently watches, hoping and praying the woman will leave her azzi alone.

but when she sees azzi outburst with loud laughter is when she loses it. she slams her glass down, hard enough to rattle the wooden table, and struts over there, anger buzzing off her skin.

azzi immediately sees the blonde coming her way, but chooses to ignore her until she reaches her and talia’s spots at the bar.

paige doesn’t bother looking in talia’s direction- she focuses solely on azzi, and azzi only. her hand impulsively moves to grip azzi’s arm, firm but gentle enough so it won’t hurt her.

“i need to talk to you,” paige says darkly, “now, azzi.”

azzi scrunches her eyebrows, shock running through her veins at paige’s urgency.

“i’ll be right back,” azzi points to talia, offering a small smile as paige pulls her away. paige’s hand lingers on her back, holding her close as they walk towards the exit door for a more quiet, private area to talk.

“no, you won’t,” paige whispers against azzi’s curls.

the haunting tension hangs in the air as azzi follows paige outside, the frigid wind hitting her bare arms. the night is quiet, only the sound of the their footsteps fills the space as they head to the parking lot. neither paige nor azzi says anything at first, the energy between them is thick.

“where are we going?” azzi questions suddenly, annoyance laced in her tone.

“to your room, or mine, it doesn’t matter. somewhere we can talk without the freezing fucking weather.”

azzi remains behind the blonde the whole walk back to campus, letting out multiple angry huffs to capture how unpleased she is with paige.

“are you going to tell me why the hell you did that?” azzi says as soon as they enter azzi’s dorm, arms crossing over her chest as she tilts her head.

paige’s jaw clenches, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“you really don’t get it, don’t you?” the blonde’s voice is tight, barely under control, as she turns to look at azzi.

azzi raises an eyebrow, “get what?”

paige’s eyes flash, a mix of frustration and anger edging in her tone. “you were all over her, azzi. you didn’t even care that i was right there.”

azzi’s shoulders tense, a frown pulling at the corners of her lips. “what are you talking about? it was just a conversation, paige.”

the sophomore scoffs, taking a small step towards the girl. “you were practically flirting with her! laughing, leaning in, making it obvious you were interested.”

“you’re being ridiculous! it wasn’t flirting, and if anything, she was the one flirting with me! and why the fuck would you care?” azzi shouts, throwing her arms up.

“god, azzi!” paige shouts back, mouth ajar at azzi’s complete obliviousness.

azzi lets out a small, defeated sigh as she sits down on her bed. paige lowers herself onto caroline’s made one, eyes focusing on the floor.

what feels like minutes pass without either one of them talking. it wasn’t until paige looks up at the brunette, anger washing away into sadness.

“i was jealous,” paige quietly admits, locking eyes with azzi.

“why?” azzi whispers back, her heart racing.

paige closes her eyes for a moment before getting up from her sitting position on carol’s bed, walking closer and closer to the door. she turns to azzi, only able to offer a few quick, quiet words— “you know why.” paige walks out without giving azzi a chance to respond.

azzi swears her heart skips a beat at paige’s choice of words, yet is unable to process how or why paige left so quickly.

minutes later, azzi is curled up into a ball underneath layers of blankets, head still whirling from her and paige’s conversation.

throughout the night, azzi couldn’t sleep. her mind was on repeat of paige’s words, uncontrollably playing in her head.

you know why.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi #uconn wbb #nika muhl #paige x azzi #uconn huskies #basketball #fanfic #paige buckets #uconn women’s basketball #fan fiction

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mayrose713 · 3 months ago

Text

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 9

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

Just so everyone knows, I have an end goal in mind but I honestly don't know how I'm fully getting there right now. So I hope everyone enjoys my scatter brained chapters

Chapter 9

“Hey Binnie?” Y/n had woken up early knowing that Changbin does as well to either head to the gym in town or workout in the home gym.

“Morning pretty girl, you’re up really early.” He looks at the clock before grabbing a water bottle from the fridge having just come in from the home gym. “What’s up?”

“Could I use your phone while you finish working out?” She asks shyly. “To call my brother?”

“Of course baby.” He smiles, fishing his phone out of his packet before giving it to her. “I use the tablet and stereo in the gym anyways for music so you’re good to use it however long you need.

“Thanks.” She smiles and waits for him to go back into the gym before she decides to walk into the den, closing the door most of the way as she types in her brother's number and hits call.

“Hello?” A groggy voice that sounds like was just woken up answers fairly quickly.

“Hyuk? It’s Y/n.”

“Holy shit, Y/n?” The voice perks up. “God you’ve had me so worried about you. I hadn’t heard from you in a bit and dad called saying he got a message from grandma and grandpa that you ran away for no reason. Where the fuck are you? Who’s phone are you calling from?”

“One of my fated alpha’s phone.” She tries to keep her voice light but in reality she’s about to break down.

“Your fated alphas?” He sounds wary.

Y/n sighs and starts explaining everything that had happened, including letting the injection wear off.

“God I’m so sorry sis.” His heart breaks hearing everything she was put through. “I’m just glad you’re away from them and somewhere safe now.”

“Yeah.” She smiles through her tears. “This is the safest I’ve ever felt, really.”

“That’s good.” He sighs. “I want to meet your mates though.”

“Hyuk.” She whines at his overprotectiveness.

“Don’t give me that pup.” He scolds her. “Have they marked you yet?”

She hesitates. “...No.”

“Are they planning to?”

“Well I believe so. A few of them said soon, so I’m sure they will.” She rambles.

“I’m just wanting to make sure Y/nn.” He tries to calm her down. “Don’t want them to take advantage of you, promising to mark you but never actually do just to get things from you and later sell you to the highest paying pack.”

“They wouldn’t do that.” She defends her mates but she isn’t sure if she’s trying to convince him or herself as she now starts to overthink everything.

“I’m just making sure.” Hyuk then sighs. “Listen, I’ve gotta go get ready for work. Text me when they get you your new phone and we’ll discuss meeting up soon.”

“Okay.” She nods even though he can’t see it. “Bye bro, love you.”

“Love you too sis, talk later.”

After she hangs up she takes in a shaky deep breath before letting the dam break and start sobbing in the nest. Little did she know that Changbin had finished his workout already and had heard her crying while talking on the phone. He didn’t eavesdrop or anything but stayed nearby until he heard her muffled talking stop and just her sobs come through the crack in the door.

The alpha quickly walks in and when she sees him she lifts her arms up and he wraps himself around her, bringing her into his lap in the nest and gently rocks her as she cries into his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl.” He whispers and coos at her. “You’re okay, just let it out.”

Chan opens the door having smelled her upset when he woke up and quickly came to find her. He gives Changbin a questioning look as he watches him soothe their omega.

“She called her brother.” Changbin mouths to him, slightly pointing to his discarded phone while trying not to disturb the girl in his arms.

The pack alpha nods and watches for a moment before leaving the two alone.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“We’re taking you shopping at the mall in the next town over today.” Jeongin hugs Y/n from behind as she leans against the counter watching Minho cook.

“Everyone?” She leans back against him.

“No, just Hyunjin and I.” He places his chin on her shoulder. “Hyun still feels bad and said he wanted to be the one who takes you.”

“And you are gonna be under the same rules we have for Felix and Jisung.” Chan walks in. “Rule number one being, you don’t leave the property without an alpha or beta and you don’t leave the town without an alpha. You can be in town with just Hyunjin or Seungmin but leaving town you need one of the four of us alphas.” She nods in understanding. “Lix and Ji can’t drive so we don’t usually have to worry too much about it but we ask you to please follow this rule.”

Minho steps up to her with a spoon. “Try this.” She eats from the spoon and her eyes light up. “Good? Not too spicy?”

“I like it.”

Minho smiles, turning back to the stove. “Rule number two, if you’re leaving the house, even to walk around the grounds a bit, let one of us know.”

Changbin, who’s been making a protein shake, turns to the room “Rule number three, we don’t keep anything from each other. If somethings bothering you, talk to us, no matter what.”

“Rule number four.” Jeongin steps away from the omega to grab Chan’s wallet as Hyunjin walks into the room. “If you want to have someone visit, like your brother, let all of us know first to make sure it's good timing for all of us.”

“Got it.” She nods, taking mental note of everything.

“Ready princess?” Hyunjin grabs the car keys from the hook and Jeongin grabs her hand now having Chan’s credit card in his pocket.

“Yeah.” She nods letting the younger alpha lead her to the front door.

“Get whatever you want or need, baby girl.” Chan follows along to walk them out. “Get any clothes, makeup or skin care you want and need. If there’s anything you want to decorate your room with, then get it. Don’t worry about pricings or how much you’ve already gotten, okay?”

“Yes alpha.”

“Good girl.” He kisses her cheek and stands on the porch as he watches them get in the car and drive off.

The drive was quiet for the most part besides the music playing and the occasional questions. Y/n still felt a bit iffy around Hyunjin. He’s been better around her, but it’s awkward still.

She follows closely behind them walking through the mall as she looks around at the different stores they go by and Jeongin quickly grabs her hand when she starts to lag behind a bit.

“Where do you want to go first?”

“Any clothing store is fine.” She mumbles and Hyunjin grabs her other hand leading the two towards a shop and her eyes widen at the amount of clothes.

“Have at it princess, pick out anything you want.” Hyunjin smiles down at her.

“I don’t even know where to start?” She looks around at the different wracks of clothes.

“We’ll help you.” Jeongin squeezes her hand before taking her to the first rack.

They all pick out different clothes and she tries them on, some of which she was surprised how much she liked on her as she’s used to having just worn leggings and t-shirts for the last few years. But the sundresses, shorts, skirts, and blouses the boys picked out she loved. She almost felt more like herself for the first time in her life.

Several stores and trips back and forth from the car later they were almost done. They had even picked up her new phone Chan had called ahead to have ready for pick up.

“Channie hyung said the phone is already all set up for you.” Jeongin explains as he and Hyunjin are holding a few bags of skin care.”We’ll just have to charge it when we get home.”

“Any other stores?” Hyunjin asks, moving over to the mall's map directory. “Do you want to get some makeup?”

“No, I don’t like to wear makeup much.” She looks around. “Is there like a homegoods store or something so I can get stuff for my room?”

“Yeah, it’s on the other side of the mall.” Jeongin points on the map to show them. “How about you guys head over there and I’ll go take these bags to the car and bring it around in front of that store so it’d be easier to load it up.”

“Sounds good.” Hyunjin hands him the few bags he has before taking the omega’s hand leading her to the store. “What were you thinking for your room?”

“Just wanting to pick out some decor, and curtains, maybe a rug.” She starts to walk through the store. “Could you help me paint an accent wall?”

“Of course, we can stop by the hardware store in the town and grab paint.” He follows her to the curtains first. “What color were you thinking?”

“Purple…? Pink…? I’m not sure yet.” She looks through the curtains specifically stopping at the blackout curtains. “I wouldn’t mind having an artist's eye though on deciding what would go the best.”

“I can definitely help with that.” He starts to browse the curtains. “Is there a certain color of curtains and a rug you’re wanting?”

“I was thinking grey for the curtains.” She pulls a set of light grey curtains before handing them to him. “And I’m wanting a big fluffy white rug.”

“We’re gonna need a cart for that then. I’ll go get one and I’ll meet you at the rugs?”

“Yeah.” She nods and watches him walk away before heading towards the rugs and start browsing.

She finds a few fluffy rugs as she feels them to decide which one she wants as she waits for Hyunjin and Jeongin to come back.

“Hey there little omega.” A deep voice is heard as a tall alpha comes up behind her. “Where’s your alpha at little one?” He places a hand on her hip causing her to tense up.

“He-he’ll be back soon.” Y/n stutters unsure what’s about to happen.

He turns her around, still keeping her in place as he inspects her neck. “No bites? Meaning you’re unclaimed.”

“I-I don’t want any trouble.” She swallows hard, hoping for Jeongin or Hyunjin to be back soon, as she has flashbacks to how her grandfather blocked her path, not allowing her to leave. “P-please walk away.”

“Why would I do that?” He growls, grip tightening on her waist. “You don’t belong to anyone, yet. We can change that right here and now though.”

“I don’t think so.” Jeongin’s growl is heard before he punches the alpha in the jaw. “Stay away from my omega.”

“Your omega?” The man taunts with a chuckle clenching the side of his face. “If she’s yours then why is she unmarked?”

“Innie.” Y/n gasps, her alpha looks ready to kill but she doesn’t get to move as Hyunjin comes up wrapping his arms around her.

“Don’t intervene.” He whispers as he holds her closely to him. “You’ll only get hurt.”

“But…” He turns her away from the scene as security comes to break up the commotion.

Hyunjin continues to hold her as Jeongin gets questioned by security explaining how the strange alpha was threatening to claim his omega. Luckily with the security footage showing how uncomfortable Y/n is with the man,9 Jeongin is let go and asked not to come back to that mall again.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n softly cries into Hyunjins chest.

“No baby, I’m sorry.” The beta squeezes her. “I shouldn’t have left you alone, I wasn’t thinking. Felix and Jisung, even though they act like it, aren’t actual omegas so it's okay for them to be left alone for a few minutes in a store when we go to grab something. I should have stayed or at least had brought you with me, especially since you’re still unmarked. I’m sorry.”

The omega whimpers into his chest as Jeongin joins them, still angry, saying they should head back home and leads them to the parked car. Hyunjin helps Y/n into the back before taking the keys from the young alpha to drive.

After a bit of no one talking Y/n looks up at them in the front seats and sighs. “When… when will you guys?”

“When will we, what?” Jeongin grunts, still a bit agitated from the situation and not happy with his beta for leaving her unattended.

She shrinks back in her seat. “Never mind.” She whimpers and looks out the window watching the terrain go by the closer they get home.

When they pull up, Chan, Minho and Changbin are waiting outside to help bring in all of the bags. When the three of them step out of the car though, the alphas smell the soured scents causing their brains to overthink.

“What happened?” Chan looks at all of them, Minho quickly goes to Y/n to check her over for injuries.

“Hyunjin left Y/n alone in a store.” Jeongin glares at the beta. “And an alpha threatened to take her, probably would have if I hadn’t come back when I did.”

“Is that true?” Chan looks at Hyunjin, getting angrier when he nods. “What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry.” The beta whines. “I wasn’t thinking okay, I forgot that she isn’t able to be left alone for a few minutes like Ji and Lix can.”

“Did you fight the alpha, Innie?” Changbin is looking at Jeongin’s face who nods and the omega now realizes that the stranger must have hit Jeongin back when Hyunjin turned her away.

“Are you okay kitten?” Minho moves her hair behind her ear and cups her cheek.

“Yeah?” She whispers not looking up at the alpha.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He forces her to look at him and now sees the tears threatening to spill.

“It’s nothing.” She brushes his hand away.

Minho sighs and looks at his pack alpha who notices as well before telling Changbin to deal with Hyunjin as he moves to Y/n.

“Baby girl.” He places his hands on both of her cheeks looking down at her. “What did Changbin say rule number three was?”

A tear falls down her cheek. “We don’t keep stuff from each other. If somethings bothering me, talk to you guys.”

“That’s right.” He wipes away her tears. “So please talk to me, what’s wrong? Is it what happened? Did it scare you?”

“It did. It reminded me of how my grandfather blocked my path.” She mumbles. “But it’s not entirely that.”

“What is it then?”

“The alpha said I was unmarked, that I don’t belong to anyone because of it and threatened to change that.” She mumbles which starts to make Jeongin mad again as Changbin soothes him. “And it makes me wonder when… when will you guys make me yours?”

“You’re already ours, pretty girl.” Changbin reassures her as he holds the youngest alpha.

“Others just think that omegas need to be marked like property or otherwise they're a free for all.” Minho had stayed close by still looking her over to make sure she’s okay.

“Baby, just because we haven’t bitten you yet doesn’t mean you’re not ours.” Chan coos.

Y/n bites her lip still holding back tears. “It just feels like I’m not being fully accepted.”

“Oh baby girl.” Chan pulls her into his chest and lets out soothing pheromones. “Please don’t feel that way. I promise we will soon, it’s just something that’s a bit more intimate than you might realize.”

“And you said I have to take you on a date first before I can do that.” Minho gives a cheeky smirk making her pout and playfully pushes him trying to hold back a smile.

Her smile doesn’t last long though as she’s reminded as to what Hyuk had told her on the phone this morning and starts to wonder if he is right.

Chan and Minho look at each other as their omega’s scent goes from sweetening to sour again during the whole interaction. They can see her brain working overtime and know that they’re gonna need to get to work on claiming her as it seems their words aren’t fully convincing her anymore.

______________________________________________________________

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babyfoxflower · 3 months ago

Text

The Hunter and the Hunted

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader

*Disclaimer: This story is an AU and does not follow Hellaverse canon. Alastor is pretty much just a hetero, if this offends you in anyway, then I suggest you block me and go on your way.*

Synopsis: This the story of Alastor and the love of his life, his huntress, the charming Y/n Rosier. A rare beauty out on the bayou, his heart is instantly stolen by her. He’ll do anything for his beloved, even if that includes murder.

Story Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Violence, Blood, Hunting, Murder, Mentions of Child Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, 1920s Attitudes Towards Women

Prev Chapter Three Next

It was decided, not out loud, that they would meet every Saturday. This was how it went on for a whole month. He would come over, they would converse for a while before doing some kind of activity together.

This week’s was shooting practice.

Y/n fired at the first glass bottle, it was hit. She fired at the second, another hit. She fired at the third, a miss.

“Damn,” she exclaimed.

“That was swell! You almost hit all of them,” Alastor praised in a slightly sarcastic manner.

“Don’t patronize me, pretty boy,” she stuck her tongue out playfully.

He chuckled, “Can’t help it. Especially, when you get so adorably sore, babydoll,” he booped her on the nose.

He’s been like that ever since they got more comfortable with each other. Openly teasing her, she didn’t seem to mind and even gave it right back to him. God, if she only knew how much she already owned his heart.

Y/n got three more empty bottles and

lined them up on the ground, “Your turn.”

Alastor fired at the first bottle, it was hit. He fired at the second bottle, another hit. He fired at the third, a hit.

Y/n scrunched up her face, “Show-off.”

“Haha. I’ve been doing it for a lot longer.”

You’re the one that brings this side out of me, my darling Y/n.

“I suppose you want a reward for beating me, hm?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I didn’t know it was a competition. But since you asked, sure I’ll take a prize,” he grinned.

“Hmm, what could I, a lady, offer a gentleman?” She put her hand under her chin, as if pondering, “I know! Close your eyes.”

A suspicious look washed over Alastor’s face, “Why? What are you going to do?”

“Oh, trust me…I promise you’ll like it, Sugar.”

“Alright, then. I’m trusting you, my dear,” he closed his eyes.

He was unsure what to expect. Suddenly, there was the feeling of hands cupping his face followed shortly by the sensation of lips on his.

Instinctively, he pulled her closer to him by the waist, holding her against him. She was so small compared to him, he bet she was standing on her tiptoes just to reach his face. Of course he kissed her back, their lips moving in sync with each others.

With the strong arms he used to carry that stag, he lifted her up. She weighed practically nothing, like a rag doll. He put one hand under her thigh and kept the other firmly, but gently, on the small of her back. He could feel the garter holding her stocking up. She wrapped her arms and legs around him.

Y/n tilted her head to the side, allowing for a better angle. His lips were soft. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but she didn’t think he would have such a supple mouth.

She smells really nice. What is that…lavender? Vanilla, perhaps? I hope I smell good.

He smells like tobacco and…bourbon? Does he drink? I like it though. I hope he likes my perfume.

Eventually, they had to pull away for air. Alastor held her, the most tender of smiles on his face.

“Well, did you like your prize? Hehe,” she giggled.

“I loved it. Merci, ma Chérie.”

“Je t’en prie, mon Cher,” she said, “Oh no, your glasses are crooked. Let me fix them for you.”

She straightened his glasses, “There, is that better?”

“Much, now I get to see you better.”

Y/n blushed.

Cough, cough.

Oh god, I know that cough.

“Mother! What are you doing out here?” Alastor asked as he gently placed Y/n down.

“Oh, I was just having a stroll, and then I happened to come upon you two,” she turned to her attention to Y/n, who was smoothing out her dress, “And you, my dear, must be Y/n, correct?”

“Mrs. Hartfelt, it’s nice to finally meet you,” she held out her hand.

Mrs. Hartfelt’s demeanor shifted to a more cheerful one as she pulled Y/n into a warm hug, “Oh please, Sweetheart, call me Claudine! It’s wonderful to finally put a face to the name!”

“Thank you!”

Mrs. Hartfelt pulled away from the hug, “Let me have a look at you. Well, aren’t you as cute as a button!?” She was smiling with her whole face.

“Oh, thank you, Mrs…I mean Claudine!”

“Are you hungry? Why don’t you come over to the house and I’ll fix you kids up something to eat?”

Y/n turned to Alastor and he gave her a look that said ‘if that’s what you’d like.’

“I am a little hungry…”

Mrs. Hartfelt linked arms with her and started pulling her along before she even had time to finish her sentence, “Splendid! You like jambalaya? I make quite tasty jambalaya if I do say so myself.”

“I love jambalaya!” Y/n exclaimed.

Alastor shook his head, picking up his and Y/n’s guns off the ground.

“Well, are you coming, Alastor!?” His mother yelled.

“Coming, Mother!”

———————————————————————

As they approached the Hartfelt house, Y/n’s mouth almost fell open. To say it was lovely would be an understatement. It looked like a miniature version of those neo-classical style mansions left over from decades prior. It was white and had two large Greek columns. The windows were long and on the second floor there was a balcony.

“This is really where y’all live?” Y/n asked.

“I know, I know…it’s a mess! Alastor still needs to get around fixing that crack in the roof. Isn’t that right, Mister Handyman?” Mrs. Hartfelt turned to Alastor with her hands on her hips.

“Mother, there’s no crack in the roof. I’ve been up there twice and still couldn’t find it.”

Your eyes are going, old lady.

“You’re just not looking hard enough.”

“I think your house is beautiful, Claudine,” Y/n smiled sweetly.

I suddenly feel like a backwoods hick.

“Thank you, my dear. Such a sweet girl. Just like Alastor said.”

“Oh, you said that about me?” Y/n turned to Alastor.

He looked down at the ground, sheepishly, face crimson, “Yes.”

Y/n blushed, “What else did you say about me?”

“He said you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen!”

“Mother, shouldn’t we get inside? It looks like it’s going to rain,” Alastor said, changing the subject.

“Yes, we should! Come along, Y/n, you and Alastor can sit in the parlor while I get lunch ready,” Mrs. Hartfelt led her inside, “And Honey, make sure you leave those guns on the porch. You know I don’t like them in the house.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he placed the guns carefully on the porch before following them inside.

As soon as Y/n stepped inside, she felt like she was in a whole other world. There was a foyer with a chandelier, and a beautiful dark wooden staircase. The walls were charmingly decorated with paintings and framed portraits.

“Y/n, I can hang up your coat if you’d like?” Alastor offered.

“Oh, thank you!” She removed her coat and handed it to him.

“Of course, Darling,” he smiled.

He hung up hers before hanging up his own, along with his cap. Even the coat rack was nice, built again with that oh so lovely dark wood.

“I’ll show you to the parlor,” he said, taking her hand in his when he knew his mother couldn’t see.

“Are you sure your mother doesn’t need help in the kitchen?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, it’s best to stay out of her kitchen. Trust me, once she starts cooking, she becomes a whole other person.”

Y/n laughed.

“Ha! I’m not joking. One time, I went in there to ask when dinner would be ready and she threw one her slippers at me.”

“Oh, alright then.”

Alastor led Y/n into the parlor. It had red velvet sofas and big fireplace that had little carvings in the mantel, a stuffed deer’s head mounted above it. There were also rows of bookshelves. On one of the shelves was a radio.

“Did you hunt that?” She pointed to the deer head.

“No, actually, it was my grandfather who hunted it. I did help him taxidermy it though,”pride in his voice.

“Oh, you know how to taxidermy?” An excited smile painted her face.

“Yes, I quite enjoy it. It’s such a relaxing hobby.”

“I imagine so! I find such delight in gutting and skinning animals after a hunt. Making them into an art piece sounds even more satisfying.”

“A lady after my own heart! Draining the blood is also very entertaining.”

“Oh for sure, it is!”

“I can show you how to make taxidermy, if you’d like? With your small hands, I think you’ll be very gifted at it.”

“I would love that! Thank you so much, Sugar!” Her face was lit up completely.

She’s so cute. How am I even supposed to deal with this? I just want to give her everything and then some.

They sat down next to each other on one the sofas.

“So, are you and your grandfather close?” She inquired.

“We were. He passed away seven years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It was his time. He lived a very long life, made it to eighty years old.”

“What was he like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He was what one would call a true southern gentleman. Kind, generous, and charismatic. He was the one who taught me how to shoot, hunt, and fish. In many ways, he was more of a father to me than my own father.”

“I’m sure he would be proud of the man you grew up to be,” Y/n smiled softly, squeezing his hand lightly.

“Thank you, my dear. He would have liked you, I think he would have liked you a lot,” he squeezed her hand back.

“I bet I would have liked him too.”

“Oh! Would you like a cigarette?” Alastor asked, reaching over to the side table and grabbing a silver cigarette box.

“Sure, is alright to smoke inside?”

“Yes, Mother doesn’t mind as long as it’s in the parlor,” he handed her one before taking one for himself.

He then pulled out a lighter from his pocket and lit hers first.

“Merci, mon cher!” She exclaimed.

“Avec plaisir, ma chérie!” He replied, before lighting his own.

Alastor couldn’t help but watch as Y/n brought her cigarette up to her lips, those same lips he tasted earlier, and took a long drag. There was something almost sinful about it.

Good lord, I never thought that I would be so jealous of a cigarette.

He took a drag himself, inhaling that sweet taste of nicotine before exhaling a puff a smoke from his mouth. Little did he realize that she was watching him too, studying how that slender cig fit between his long pretty fingers. Without her knowledge, her thighs started rubbing together.

What am I doing? He’ll think I’m some randy slut if he sees me doing this.

She turned away from him, noticing a framed photograph with three young girls in it on the side table next to them.

“Who are they?” Y/n asked.

Alastor turned his attention to where she was looking, “Oh, that’s my mother and her sisters.”

“Really? Who’s who?”

He picked up the photograph, making sure to keep his cigarette away from it.

“The one in the middle is my mother. The one to the right of her is my Auntie Colette and the one the left is my Auntie Clementine. They’re triplets.”

“Oh! What are your aunts like?”

“Well, Auntie Colette is the most artistic and free-spirited of the three. She ran away to Paris and became a painter. I’ve only met her three times in my life but she seems like a nice enough lady. And then Auntie Clementine is a real homebody who rarely leaves the house, she got married at sixteen and has eight children.”

“Damn, eight kids!? Sorry that was rude.”

Alastor chuckled, “No, no, you’re fine. That would be my reaction too.”

Y/n laughed, “Are you close to your cousins?”

“Not all of them, but growing up my cousin Elodie was my best friend. She’s quite cheerful and has a high sense of morality. You two would probably get along,” he smiled.

“Well, I’d love to meet her sometime.”

“That would be lovely, I’d love to introduce you to all of my family eventually. I’m sure they’ll absolutely adore you,” his eyes were full of sincerity.

Maybe one day, I’ll get to introduce you as my wife.

Y/n’s face turned red, “You’re such a sweet talker!”

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deadsetobsessions · 1 year ago

Text

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

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stormz369 · 4 months ago

Text

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 4

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem)

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, bit of trauma processing, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: family discord and dealing with trauma, drugs briefly mentioned, human trafficking briefly mentioned

word count: 1.7k

Chapter Selection

I thought I was a strong, independent woman. I thought I preferred to take care of myself, that I could never be comfortable relying on others. One date with Jason had me strongly questioning those convictions. He bought the books, we had a late lunch/early dinner at the food court, wandered several stores, and talked about everything and nothing. I managed to keep him from buying every little thing I looked at, but we still ended up with several bags - all of which he insisted on carrying. Even with the bags in his hands, he managed to get his pinky wrapped around mine every time my hand was down. It was clingy, and awkward to walk, and it made me giddy. Is this feeling what everyone’s so obsessed with? … I think I get it now.

Jason drove me home that night, insisting that it was getting too dark and he didn't like the idea of me on public transit alone at night. Normally I would fight him on that, but the idea of walking home from the bus stop was doing unpleasant things to my stomach. He parked, and we took several minutes to rearrange the items in our bags.

“... I guess that’s everything.” He seemed a bit disappointed.

I nodded. “Yeah, I think you're right. … Thank you, Jay, this was a lot of fun.”

He smiled softly, nodding. “I had fun too. … Can I … see you again?”

“It's a distinct possibility.” I smirked a bit. “After all, I have yet to pass judgment on your trashy romance novel selection.”

He laughed softly, groaning and rubbing his face. “I already regret suggesting that. Give it back, you can't have it.”

I held my bags away from him, giggling a bit as he pretended to try to steal them. Suddenly there was movement in the corner of my vision, and I saw a silhouette on the roof across the street. “Oh god…”

“What? What's wrong??” Jason pulled back a bit.

“There’s someone on that roof. Which one is that, can you tell?” I peered up, but with the moon behind them I couldn't see any details.

Jason turned to look too, suddenly a bit stoney. “... Looks like Red Robin and Nightwing.”

“... Two of them? Are you sure? I only see one.” He just nodded. “... Fuuuhhhck, what's happening in my stupid neighborhood?”

“Probably nothing. This isn't their patrol territory…. Or … at least, that's what I've heard.”

I raised an eyebrow, staring at him. “You've heard? … What, do they take their cars to you?”

“... Something like that. … Anyway, it's well known, this is Red Hood's part of town.”

“... You don't think they're here for him, do you? I thought they were allied now?”

Jason shook his head a bit. “Probably just trying to spy on him … nosy bitches…”

I giggled a bit at that, but couldn't help the sneaking concern in the back of my mind. If they really were here to spy on Red Hood, that would suggest he was nearby … Did he decide he wanted his shirt back after all, or was something bad happening in the area?

Jason turned to me, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey, don't worry about them. You just get inside where it's safe, ok?”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Ok, but text me when you get home.”

He nodded, chuckling, “will do. And … about seeing each other again, … how about lunch on Tuesday?”

I nodded, grinning. “Sounds good. Good night, Jay.”

“Night, Doll.” I blushed a bit, getting out of the car and into my building. He waited for me to close the door before driving away, and I headed up to my apartment.

I wasn't sure what I'd find upstairs. I hadn't told Red Hood my unit number, but it probably wouldn't be that hard for him to figure out. … Hell, the shirt might have a tracker on it.

I unlocked my door and checked every room. Nothing had moved. My clothes were still in a crumpled heap on my floor, the flannel still peaking out from under my ruined pants. It occurred to me that I had meant to pick up a replacement pair at the mall before heading home. I sat on my knees, trembling a bit as I picked up the shirt. A thorough examination didn't reveal any electronic pieces attached. It was just a normal red flannel.

I held the shirt against my chest, shaking a bit. Everything was fine. I was fine. Red Hood was one of the good guys, even if he did some really terrifying shit. I wasn't a drug dealer or a human trafficker, so he had nothing against me. He was kind to me, even. I was safe. I was safe. I was safe.

My mind slowly drifted away from that night. Thoughts of blood and fear were replaced bit by bit with Jason; his shy little smiles and cheeky grins, the feeling of his finger wrapped around mine, even the smell of his cologne. When I breathed deep I could still smell it; a rich, woody smell, with a bit of lavender, and under that was a base note I couldn't identify. Something sharp and slightly metallic. I sighed softly, deciding not to think too hard about why I was tying the shirt around my waist, and started tidying the apartment. Couldn't put the pile off forever, but I didn't have to start there…

Jason watched her go inside, waiting to make sure no creeps followed her in before the security door locked. Once he was satisfied that she was safe, he drove off, calling Dick. Straight to voicemail. He tried Tim; also straight to voicemail. Annoying, but fine. He knew where they would be headed next.

Unfortunately for them, the drive was not nearly long enough to calm him down. He pulled in to the batcave and sat on the hood of his car to watch the entrance. Eventually the pair rode in, staring at him like he was the grim reaper.

“… Heeeyy Jason! What are you doing here? Don't you have tonight off?” Tim tried to play it cool, taking his bike to its designated parking spot.

“You should be more careful, Tim. She saw you.”

“Whaaaat? I don't know what you're-”

“She. Saw. You. On that rooftop.” Jason growled a bit, clenching his fist. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to reassure her that her neighborhood was not about to be attacked without revealing too much?”

“C'mon Jaybird, we just wanted to check in!” Dick grinned, moving to pinch his cheek. “Baby Jay-Jay's first date! You can't fault us for being excited for you!”

He smacked Dick's hand. “I can and do. Don't do anything like that ever again.”

Dick hissed dramatically, pouting. “You're so mean, Jay. We just wanted to see if it was going well!”

“Stop. Spying. On me.” He growled, giving Tim a pointed glare. The younger man raised both hands in surrender and nodded.

Dick smirked as Jason opened his car door, calling out; “okaaay, but don't forget to report in to the chat. Unless you'd rather Babs check the CCTV footage at the mall for us?”

Jason froze and growled. “… Fuck….” He slammed the door shut and drove away without another word.

BatKids Group Chat:

Jason: It went well. Now everyone STOP stalking me! You're weirding her out! 😡

8:04pm

Cass: Excuse me??

8:06pm

Damian: Grayson and Drake are the only ones interested enough to bother stalking you, maybe you should focus your ire on them and not the whole family?

8:06pm

Babs: We need details, Jay!

8:07pm

Duke: Wait, what??

8:08pm

Dick: Jaybird went on a date today, Duke! Keep up!

8:09pm

Tim: With a normal human-type girl no less!

8:10pm

Damian: How normal can she be? She accepted a date with Todd after you two harassed her.

8:11pm

Cass: 🙃 … Dick, do we need to have a talk?

8:12pm

Damian: I handled the matter at the coffee shop. (and am still waiting to be thanked, for the record Todd - the date would not have happened if I hadn't stepped in.) … But still, the girl's taste does seem questionable.

8:13pm

Dick: There was nothing to handle! We had it under control! 🙄

8:14pm

Cass: I hate to say it, but Dami does have a point - are we /sure/ she's entirely normal? There's no chance she's an undercover villain or anything?

8:14pm

Tim: Way ahead of you - background check came back clean. She's as normal as any other Gothamite.

8:15pm

Duke: So … absolutely nuts, but probably not too dangerous? 😂

8:16pm

Babs: Don’t listen to them, Jason - she's a very lucky (normal) girl!

8:17pm

Jason: You cannot be serious. You ran a background check???

8:19pm

Steph: What Babs said. Now, make with the details! 🤩

8:20pm

Dick: Of course we did - what kind of big brother would I be if I let you go out with a girl we know nothing about???

8:21pm

Jason: 😑 … This is exactly why I don't usually respond to this thread.

8:30pm

Duke: Details, man!

8:31pm

Steph: Details! Details! Details!

8:32pm

Jason: 😤 … We picked out books for each other.

8:38pm

Dick: Awww, cute!

8:39pm

Babs: … And???

8:40pm

Jason: And … She seemed a bit surprised that I was there at all?

8:43pm

Damian: Pleasantly surprised, or upset?

8:44pm

Jason: … Just … Baffled I think.

8:45pm

Tim: … How many times did you have to reschedule?

8:46pm

Jason: … A few. But I always told her with enough time so that I wouldn't be standing her up!

8:47pm

Babs: Curious…

8:48pm

Dick: Alright everybody, recon time!

8:48pm

Jason: NO! It is NOT recon time!

8:49pm

Damian: What do we know about this girl?

8:50pm

Babs: On it!

8:50pm

Jason: No, no, NO! Stop!!!

8:51pm

Tim: Too late!

8:52pm

Jason: Uuggghh! I'm muting all of you!

8:53pm

Tim: … NOT IT TO TELL B!

8:55pm

Damian: Not it

8:56pm

Babs: Not it!

8:56pm

Cass: NOT IT!

8:57pm

Steph: Not it!!!

8:58pm

Duke: Not it!

8:58pm

Dick: …. Fuck.

9:03pm

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid

#fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #jason todd #red hood x reader #dc #jason todd x reader #first person pov #no use of y/n #batfam #batfamily #wayne family adventures #Can I Get Your Number?

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lateatnewyork · 1 year ago

Text

Sunflower

Flowers series part III

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Warnings: Fluff, heartbreak, mentions of toxic relationships (azriel and reader), helion being the kindest person alive.

Summary: Once you had arrived at Day Court, Helion had not let you out of his sight, it was a change you liked. Someone caring for you.

a/n this is pure fluff and comfort (a lot like a filler chapter) but it’s helion so 🫶🏻

Helion had an aura to him that showed he was confident, but when talking to me his aura softened.

I could feel it. Maybe he was just being nice. Probably trying to maintain court relationships. But it was nice to have all the attention to me for once.

He was everything. Everything that I thought I wouldn’t need. Everything Azriel had promised but never given me.

I had spent an embarrassingly long amount of time crying on his shoulder. But never once did he brush me off, put my feelings aside. I hadn’t even thought of Azriel and I’s relationship to be improper.

Hadn’t realised that he was playing me all along.

I used to love moonflowers, especially the ones that were a blue so dark it could be the night sky. They had reminded me of Azriel.

But now when I was sitting with Helion on the balcony and he asks me what my favourite flower is, I can’t seem to get ‘moonflower’ out. The word turns sour in my mouth.

“Sunflower,” I blurt out.

“It used to be a moonflower” I sigh, never being able to lie to the day high lord.

“Why used to?” he questions softly.

He was always like this, gently speaking, making sure to never cross boundaries.

“It reminded me of Azriel,” I say.

“That’s funny” he laughs.

Yes he’s laughing. Bewildered, I look up at him.

“Why are you laughing?” I question.

“It’s funny because I love moonflowers” he chuckles.

“Why?” I ask louder this time.

“I saw them once in Night Court, and they were beautiful but I like them more now because they remind me of you,” he confesses.

I rear my head back, an incredulous expression on my face, “Of me?”.

He simply nods, “Why do you like sunflowers?”.

My cheeks flood with colour, “Because they remind me of you,” I mumble out.

A blanket of silence is thrown over the room.

“Sorry I shouldn’t have said that, I’ll get going now,” I whisper.

I basically told him I liked him and he said nothing.

Gods Y/N how stupid could you be. He’s a fucking high lord, and a good looking one at that (unlike Beron), he could have anyone why would he want you. A used girl, discarded and trashed by the one person she opened up to.

Tears well up on my waterline, threatening to spill.

I gasp when a strong hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me into his chest.

Helion looks about ready to burn the world down. His eyes soften when he takes in my vulnerable expression.

“My love, why are you crying?” he hesitates but in the end, wipes a tear off my cheek.

“Look Helion, I’m sorry for what I said, let me go and I’ll leave and head back to Night Court,” I explain.

His gaze hardens, “You’re not going anywhere, because I want you here with me, the spymaster of their court is a fool for letting you go, you’re a goddess in the flesh, and I most likely would not deserve you in a hundred life times.”

I open my mouth to say something but he keeps going on.

“You’re skin is the colour of the moon, you’re eyes the stars and your hair the night itself, but your personality is the living embodiment of the sun. I would walk through hellfire if you were waiting for me on the other side. I would give you everything, even if you asked for Amarantha’s head on a stick. If only you were mine,” he finally finishes.

I stare at him in shock, I had overheard Azriel’s vows and they were nowhere near as beautiful as Helion’s.

“I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine,” I whisper. My mouth hangs open as something snaps in my chest, looking down I realise how close I am to Helion, a short golden thread between us.

“Mate”

a/n IF ONLY YOU WERE MINE anyway helions such a dilf

taglist: taglist: @esposadomd @impossibelle @acotarfics-mharmie009 @stqrgirlies-blog @balam-sen @cumuluscranium @witchymomfrien @historygeekqueen @wallacewillow0773638 @wickedfelinaxo @mybestfriendmademe @to-be-written @highladyofterrasen98 @minnieoo

(striked out means i couldn’t tag you)

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iid-smile · 5 months ago

Text

can't get rid of me , fushiguro toji

a strong legacy to be left behind , chapter one

the series masterlist. | previous | next

cw: profanity, mentions of pregnancy (pills) but filtered for megumi's sake, mentions of violence in prison, you're broke, smoking cigarettes

author's note: sigh... im out of my fluff era 😞 (sorry guys) kinda wanted to write something that i think would actually happen in some sort of alternate jjk universe and um idk how far to go because this kind of stuff does happen in the manga, but writing it feels illegal??? idk...

"mom?" megumi peeks out from around the corner in the hallway. "who was calling?"

another groan escapes your lips, around the fifth one in the last three minutes, and you silence your phone once again. "your— excuse my language, shitty deadbeat dad keeps wanting to call me." you slap your hand across your forehead and lean back on the couch, a small creak coming from somewhere below. "apparently he's getting aggressive in prison. shut off the house phone, but they still found my number..."

your son comes closer to you, and you scoop him up, placing him by your side. he glances up at you, and you swear your fight or flight instincts nearly kicked in, (not that you'd be able to fight of a guy as big as toji anyways) flinching slightly from his sharp gaze. it sucks how he looks so much like his dad, because you loved megumi so much. but the image of that guy was almost too much to bear, and he's the spitting image.

"shitty?" he repeats. for a well-behaved kid, he really doesn't respect your words.

"don't say that megs, it's bad language." you swear around him all of the time, so what's the point in scolding him? "only your mama can say it."

"don't tell me what to do."

wow. okay. why do you feel threatened by a six year old? "damn, you've got his attitude too." you mutter, but you've only got yourself to blame for that. you knew you were never cut out to be a mother, so your ways of parenting weren't the best.

he snuggles closer to you, and you openly accept, moving your free hand to his hair to rub over it. "why can't i see toji?"

ah, this lovely story again. "because he left me as soon as you were born, love." really, you couldn't and didn't want to stop yourself from wrapping him up in your arms, feeling the need to protect him. "at this point, he's dead to me. seems like he doesn't feel the same though... i'm so sick of his ass." you also knew it wasn't good parenting to rant to your child about adult issues, but you've only got him to talk to.

that hug was out of comfort then. why are you lying to yourself?

he looks up at you with an irritatingly cute but blank face. "why?"

"god, i hate how many questions you ask." you speak under your breath once again, looking up at the ceiling from any sort of help from a higher being. the amount of times you've had to family-friendly-ify things that have happened isn't even funny. you're not naturally rated u for universal. it's more embarrassing when he recites those same stories to his teachers, and you get called into the school for a little talk.

yikes... here we go. "he lied when he said he gave me the right magical candy after we visited the stork. tried to make it drop you off back to where babies are made in heaven, but i wanted it to deliver you to me, whether he liked that or not." the story's got to be a little filtered somehow. you'd rather not get yourself in the principal's office again. "you're my little hero; a miracle to me. i would've given up on myself ages ago. your dad is a bad, bad man."

the type that would kill. if he found where you lived, or perhaps where megumi goes to school...

"and now i'm left broke in an apartment that barely functions, yet i still spoil my little hero." you sing-song, leaning your head back. "and with what money? i'm broke as hell, megs. can't even make both of us breakfast in the morning cuz your elementary school is too damn expensive."

"is this my fault?"

"...no. no, baby, of course not." you furrow your eyebrows more, a small pout in your lips. "if anything, you made my situation a bit more fortunate."

it's a selfish way of thinking, using your child to avoid solving your problems, using your child to wail and complain about how much you hate your life, but you've got nothing to lose. nothing to lose except for the one person you love.

you can feel your phone buzzing again.

"you stay here and watch tv, okay? mama's gonna go to the kitchen and talk to her friend." he seems a bit relieved as you let go of him, and you stand up.

you hear him mutter. "it's only playing the news though..." no shit it only plays the news, you can't afford to get a good television company that has any kids shows. that is, unless you wanna get scammed out of all of your money.

begrudgingly, you make your way to the kitchen, confirm that you closed the door completely, and answer the vibrating device. "hello?" you sigh, placing the device over your ear.

the other person on the call replies quickly. "is this miss—"

"yeah, yeah, it is. what the hell do you want?"

"um... we apologise, but we strongly suggest that you come to the prison building. he—" the guy's voice cracks. must be really nervous. "pardon me. he's been physically assaulting other inmates and guards, he doesn't follow orders, he never leaves his cell unless it's to visit the closed visits room. you know, in hopes that you'll come..."

obsessed much? where was this energy six years ago? "that's got nothing to do with me."

"please, ma'am. he won't listen to anyone, and we are unable to place him into special facilities as he doesn't emit any cursed energy." ah, he's begging? that's a first. you never would've thought you'd hear a person who works at a prison begging.

cursed energy, cursed energy, this talk again and again and again. "urgh..." you take a deep breath. your options are limited, and they won't stop calling until they can get that lunatic to calm down... surprise, surprise, you really don't want to go.

but if you were really uninterested in him, wouldn't you have already spent the bail money that's been sat on the counter for ages, neatly concealed in an envelope? wouldn't you have paid off all of your debts already? "will i— hm..." choose your words carefully, goddamn it. "can i get a reward of some sort if i go? money?"

"yes, yes! please do visit. there's nothing we can legally do to him in check anymore." ...you think this guy sounds a little too eager.

damn toji and his "supernatural powers", or else you wouldn't get yourself into this mess. finally, after your moment of silence, you respond. "okay. i'll visit."

"thank you—!" you cut off the line.

"fucking bastard..." you drop your phone on the counter, running your hands through your hair and over your face. "stressing me out for what? you don't even love me." your words turn into whispers. with haste, you rummage through your back pocket, trying to find those last few cigarettes, but as your hands were occupied, your eyes moved over to the ashtray that was collecting dust on top of the microwave. oh, right... you don't smoke anymore because there's no ventilation indoors.

you'd have to head out if you wanted to, but then megumi would be in the apartment on his own. and nobody can babysit, because you don't have anybody to ask to babysit. great, you can't smoke until monday. it's a friday afternoon. you have two whole days to get through!

you know for a fact your addiction won't hold out for that long.

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beybaldes · 2 years ago

Text

no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft

Roy Kent × Fem!Reader

word count: 9.8k

summary: jamie tartt once told you Roy needed someone to show him it was okay to be soft; Roy has found that person in you

content warning: spoilers for the plot of 'the couple next door' by Shari Lapena, tooth rotting fluff with the whole Kent bloodline and the Richmond boys, neither reader nor Roy has parents because I said so, allusions to smut but basically non written.

masterlist

a/n: this is technically a part 2 to my fic ‘it was simple, it was sweetness, it was good to know’ but can 100% be read as a standalone fic!! Thank you for all the love on the first part I acc can’t believe the amount of love and support it received 🥲🥲

"Hey, hot stuff." Your hands came to rest against Roy's shoulders, squeezing, then moving slowly across his collar bones and down his chest, coming to rest connected just above his heart. A featherlight kiss was pressed to the shell of his ear, and then another behind his ear, followed by a trail of quick kisses down his neck until your face was buried in the crook of it. "How's your book?"

"Fucking great." Roy answered back, voice low and mellow, maintaining the peaceful atmosphere in your living room.

Ever since you'd moved in together a year and a half ago, your entire house had become a sanctuary for the two of you. Roy's new position as manager made it so that even though you worked together, you saw much less of each other during the workday - mainly because it wasn't at his leisure to go in and out of your office all day any more. Even if you did spend every minute of every day around each other, you knew you could never get sick of Roy; you'd become quite the experts at communicating how you were feeling and what you were thinking, especially since every time he tried to keep you out, you would figure it out anyway.

"I mean, I've had my theories throughout about who did it, but I'd never have guessed this." Roy missed your touch as soon as you let go of him, reaching out so that he could hold your hand in his tightly while you walked around the couch to take a seat by his side. "I thought surely, what, with the husband having the affair he did it - and I was half right, the husband staged the kidnapping."

"I knew something was up with him!" You gasped, wrapping your arms around Roy's waist as you curled into his side, the hand that had just been holding yours pulling his blanket to cover your lap then moving to rest across your shoulders. "How was the husband involved? He didn't hurt the baby did he?" He used the palm of his hand to press your head against his chest, tucking your hair back behind your ear and then moving his hand to rest against your bicep, scratching his fingers gently into the exposed flesh there. "Oh my god, he didn't, like, get rid of it so he could be with the neighbour did he?"

"Slow down, slow down," Roy shushed, folding the corner of the page he was on, something so close to the end of the book you could count the pages if you tried. He pressed a chaste, warm kiss to the crown of your head, placing the book down beside him on the couch. "Let me explain, Angel." Roy's other hand, now free from holding the book, cradled your chin gently, tilting your head up so he could press a tender kiss to your lips. "So Anne's dad-"

Another gasp slipped past your lips. More then anything, you wanted to let Roy explain the plot of what he'd been reading, but his nightly updates had kept you on the edge of your seat. Despite not having read a single page, apart from the 2 chapters you read aloud to Roy earlier in the week when he was feeling a little under the weather, you were completely and utterly enthralled; desperate to know how it ended. Besides, this daily discussion was the highlight of your days. No matter how good or bad your day had been, if you'd gone out of your way to ignore each other or talked nonstop: Roy still talked and you still listened. "What did Anne's dad have to do with it?"

"You'll see." He chastised, pressing a kiss to the tip-of your nose before continuing with his explanation. "Marco assists in kidnapping the baby, why? Because his business is going out of money and he plans on faking a ransom note for asking for the exact amount of money he needs to pay up to save his business." Roy slid his hand under the blanket, pulling your legs up and into his lap as you brought your head up from against his chest. Threading your fingers through his hair, you looked at him confused. "Anne's parents are rich, remember? But they won't give him the money so he stages this kidnapping to force them to pay the ransom."

"No." You gasped, you hand clapping against your mouth. "Why wouldn't they give their son in law the money? They do know it directly affects their daughter and grand-daughter, right?"

"They won't give him the money because they don't like him, so get this, the guy who convinced Marco to stage the kidnapping was hired by Anne's dad." Roy laughed at the gasp you let out, you completely enthralled with the story and him completely enthralled with you. He always was. "Anne's dad staged the whole thing because he wanted Anne and Marco to split up. And just when you think everything's okay because they got the baby back; Anne murders the neighbour because she had been having an affair - with Anne’s dad.”

You were practically jumping in your seat.

Sometimes you wish you had the same amount of patience as Roy so you could actually sit down and read with him. Most of the time, however, you were more then happy to listen to him passionately talk you through what he was reading, were happy to watch that wonderful smile you loved so much curl onto his lips.

"But!"

"But-" you repeated after Roy, pressing a kiss to his cheek, urging him to hurry up with his ending; you were waiting to hear it.

"But, Anne doesn't remember killing the neighbour, so there is this whole unreliable light cast on the whole story; it might not have even happened!" Roy expected to find you staring at him in shock, some commentary on what you think happened on the tip of your tongue, but it never came.

Instead, he found you staring at him with complete adoration, like you'd watched him mould the galaxies in his hands, hang the stars in the sky and spin the world on his fingernails. To you, he did, he really did. You leant forward a little, using the hand that you'd tangled in Roy's hair to pull him closer to you so that you could press your lips to his. The kiss was soft and tender, something that Roy, ever intense, had really come to enjoy through out your relationship; you brought out this entirely different side to him that he wasn't even sure existed until he met you.

"I love you." You murmured against his lips, going in for another quick peck before you pulled away, gracing him with the sight of a smile. "I love how passionate you get when talking about the stuff you love, and that smile - ugh that smile, Roy - you're killing me here."

Roy was certain he was doing the right thing. So certain, in fact, that he'd bought the ring the day you got together: Phoebe's accusation in your living room that you were getting married telling him everything he needed to know. The life Roy had dreamed of was right before him, all he had to do now was take it. "Marry me."

"What?" The hand that had began to caress his cheek as you kissed and the hand in his hair stilled; your entire body stilled in fact, and as quickly as he'd become confident enough to ask the question, he'd become nervous again.

"Fuck, what I meant was; will you marry me?" Roy shuffled underneath you, pulling out a ring box from somewhere behind him, though you weren't sure where considering you knew his pyjama bottoms didn't have pockets. "I'm not the kind of guy for a big speech thing, but I wish I was because you fucking deserve that kind of thing. You deserve a lot more then I can ever give you, actually, and yet you still love me day in and day fucking out. I'll admit, sometimes I don't get why you do."

"Roy..." You whimpered, tears brimming in your eyes as you moved both of your hands to cradle his face.

"But you do. And I'd truly, really, be the luckiest man in the world, if you would marry grumpy, old me." Tears had formed in Roy's own eyes, the pair of you totally overwhelmed by the intimate and tender moment. You'd never been more in love with Roy then right now. "Please fucking say yes, I'm an absolute mess without you"

"Yes, please." You whispered, hands still cradling Roy's face even though your eyes remained on the ring in front of you. It was as if he'd peeked inside your brain and made the perfect ring; it was simple yet elegant and entirely you, it was really perfect. This time, you answered louder. "Please, yes."

You pulled Roy's face to you, pressing a firm and hot kiss to his lips. You let your hands leave his face, sliding up and over his cheekbones until you reached his hair, twisting your fingers into it and pulling him even tighter against you, deepening the kiss as you did. "A million times yes, Roy, yes, yes, yes." Tears had begun to freely flow down your cheeks, though there was not an ounce of sadness to them. You were insurmountably happy - over the fucking moon. "I'd say yes in every fucking language in the world if I could. I love you Roy." You bit your lip back between your teeth, trying to contain your smile since your cheeks burned. "Mrs Kent." A giggle slipped past your lips. "That's me."

"Fuck yeah, that's you." Roy growled, pulling you into him and pressing a kiss to your lips. His grip in your hair allowed him to tilt your head back slightly, giving him the perfect angle to push his tongue past your lips with a tug of his hand on your hair. If he had already put the ring on your finger, he'd have picked you up and taken you to bed then and there with the moan you let out. "Now, Mrs Kent, you going to let me put this ring on your fucking finger or what?"

~*~

You were thankful Roy had proposed on a Friday night; not only because that meant you didn't have to worry about how late he kept you up or how quickly you needed to regain the ability to walk straight, but because it gave you the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday to figure out how to tell your friends. Phoebe and Molly were coming over for dinner later that night, but you had a slight feeling you weren't actually going to have to say anything to them - you had no doubt Roy had consulted Molly over it, and Phoebe, well, you just knew she'd pick up on it the second she saw you.

"C'mere." Roy groaned beside you, not giving you the chance to move yourself before he was wrapping one arm around your waist and the other under your thigh. He slid you across the bed with ease, years of training still paying off despite the fact he hadn't played on a pitch in nearly 4 years now. Placing the leg he'd grabbed over his own leg, he pulled you flush against him, chest pressed to chest. "Good morning, Angel, sleep good?"

Roy's voice had a deeper edge then usual to it in the morning. "Always do when I'm with you, Handsome." You purred, gently scratching your fingers against his chest. "Although I've got this awful kink in my neck, must’ve slept funny."

"I can think of a few other kinks you've got." Roy murmured against your shoulder, pressing open mouthed kissed along it and up your neck. When he nipped at the sensitive skin just under your ear, you pushed yourself away from him, not out of want, but out of necessity.

"We've got guests in a few hours, remember?"

"I can do a lot in an hour alone." Given how late the two of you had been up doing things, you'd slept in till lunch, but that didn't make the sound of sleepy and slow morning sex with Roy any less appealing. God, the thought of it alone had you wanting to cancel everything ever and stay here forever.

"Hmm, that you can do." Pulling his head out of the crook of your neck, you pressed a kiss to his lips, tangling your hands into Roy's hair and trying impossibly hard to get even closer to him. "Show me what you got, coach."

A growl rolled out of Roy's throat and he was quick to get started on his own assault of your lips, fully using the position he'd pulled you into to his advantage.

~*~

After everything the two of you spent your early afternoon doing, you only had 2 hours to make sure everything was ready for when Molly and Phoebe showed up, and since your cooking skills ended at turkey dinosaurs and pizza, you left most of the work down to Roy. He let you help prepare ingredients, standing behind you with an arm wrapped around your waist and a hand guiding your hand to cut things a specific way. But when the time came to actually cook the meal, he guided you out of the kitchen, encouraging you to go and get ready with a soft kiss; one to your cheek and another to your temple.

When you'd showered and gotten ready, you made it your turn to kick Roy out of the kitchen, promising not to touch anything unless he asked you to. You made sure to set the table all nice and proper for Phoebe and Molly's arrival, still slightly starstruck by the actual use of the dining table and not just eating dinner on your couch like you'd become so accustomed to before you and Roy moved in together. Sometimes though, especially when Phoebe stayed over, you'd all eat dinner together on the sofa, spy kids playing in the background, for old times sake. And before you knew it, you'd heard the knock at the door.

Swinging the door open, you knelt down immediately, sweeping Phoebe into your arms and hugging her tightly. With her head tucked in between your shoulder and neck, you stuck out your left hand at Molly, wriggling your ring finger enthusiastically. Phoebe squealed your name, wrapping her little arms tightly around your neck; even though you'd seen her two days ago when you picked her up from school, she still missed you as much as if she hadn't seen you for a million years.

As you went to stand back up, phoebe kept her grip on your neck, a silent plea for you to pick her up. Even at 9 years old, she still loved being paraded around in your arms, taking full advantage of your love for her and her love of being close to you. You pulled Molly into the house by the hand, kicking the door shut with your foot and leading them to the kitchen, where Roy was finishing up dinner.

"Hi, Uncle Roy!" Phoebe opted to stay in your arms instead of wiggling out of them to give Roy a 'hello' hug, knowing he was busy cooking and shouldn't be interrupted.

"Hey Phoebe, dinner will be ready in 2 minutes, okay? Why don't you go and grab your phoebe mug from your room before we all sit down?" When you and Roy moved in together, it was a unanimous decision that Phoebe needed her own room in your house; and when you were moving her things from Roy and your separate houses into your new house you got her a 'phoebe mug' as a housewarming gift. It was a bright pink ceramic mug, her name written once by you on the front and once by Roy on the back - it was the only thing she would drink out of when she was at your house.

The second phoebe had slipped out of the room, you turned to Molly with a squeal, the two of you grabbing tightly onto each other and jumping around the kitchen. Roy watched fondly as the two of you gushed over the ring Molly had already seen a thousand times. She took your hand in hers, running her finger over the ring with a featherlight touch, tears filling her waterline. Molly grabbed your hand and pulled it over her shoulder, hugging you again, though this time more tenderly, more teary-eyed.

"I'd say welcome to the family, but I think you've been a part of it since the day you met Phoebe." Tears began to fill your own eyes at the words she whispered against the shell of your ear. "You make him so happy, so, so happy, and that's all I could ever want for Roy. It's all I ever way for you." Molly pulled away from the hug, wiping her thumb under your eye as your tears threatened to spill over. "He loves you. We all do. I love you."

"I love you too, Molly." Just as quickly as she'd pushed you away, you pulled her in for another hug, squeezing her tightly as though it would convey everything you were feeling. It did.

At the sound of feet running down your hallway, Molly jumped away from you, quickly wiping at her own eyes before turning to face her little girl. She gently took the mug from her hands and passed it to you, ushering her to the dining table while you and Roy plated up.

"What did she say to you?" Roy asked, knocking his hip against yours as he he started putting food into each plate.

You pulled Phoebe's favourite cordial off your shelf, pouring some in then moving past Roy to get to the sink to dilute it. "Nothing." He couldn't see the smile that formed on your face as you thought on what your future sister in law had said to you moments prior. "Just that she loves me, she loves you. That she's happy for us."

Roy wrapped an arm around you from behind as he came to join you at the sink, leaning past you to put his cooking tongs in. "I can't wait to see Phoebe's reaction." Roy murmured against the skin of your neck, pressing a kiss there then spinning you around to face him. "She absolutely adores you. She's gonna be over the fucking moon."

"Not more over the moon then me." You pressed another kiss to his lips, making sure to keep the cordial far away from you and Roy incase it spilled.

Roy turned his back on you, picking up two of the bigger plates. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Oh really?" You asked, picking up the final big plate and Phoebe's smaller own. "I get to marry the love of my life and be officially related to some of the people I love the most. I think I win."

"We'll see." With one last kiss the two of you headed towards the dining table, all four of you tucking into dinner and telling each other about your weeks like clockwork; though you and Roy refrained from one pretty big event till after dinner.

When your food was all finished, you'd given Phoebe a bigger bowl of ice cream then usual, immediately prompting her to be suspicious. "Either I've been really good at school this week, or you guys have done something really bad."

"It's not like that Pheeb's, we're actually celebrating." Phoebe's head perked up at that as she mentally checked it wasn't anyone's birthday, or 'uncles day,' or Mother's Day, or 'future aunties day' (as she'd dubbed it) and she'd forgotten. When she ruled that she definitely hadn't forgotten anything, she turned to you in wait.

"What are we celebrating?"

"Me and your uncle Roy-"

"Holy shit." Smiles crept on all three of your faces as Phoebe pieced it together in her mind. "Are you getting married? Please tell me you're getting married?"

"Are getting married." As you brought your ring adorned hand up for her to see, Phoebe burst into tears, jumping off of her seat and running around to the other side of the table where you and Roy sat. She was quick to climb into Roy's lap, wrapping one arm around each of your knecks to pull you into a hug.

"This is the best day of my life." She whispered, her words coming out in a whine as she tried desperately hard to keep her tears in. "Do I get to be a flower girl?"

"Of course you get to be the flower girl, what kind of fucking question is that?" Roy scolded though a smile remained on his face, you wouldn't have anyone one else as your flower girl. Your niece was barely walking and besides, not that you'd ever admit it with them present, but you much preferred Phoebe to any blood relative you had.

Phoebe's face turned into a frown at Roy's words. "You owe me £1, uncle Roy."

"After the S-bomb you dropped before? I think we're even."

~*~

When Monday rolled around, you were extremely nervous. It wasn't that you thought any of the people at Nelson road would react badly to your engagement, you knew non of them would, you were nervous in the way you are at 8 years old on Christmas Eve - in a giddy way when you can't wait for what you feel to be shared.

You'd come up with a plan in bed the night before - announce it to Beard first, then to the boys, and then you'd make your way up to Rebecca's office to announce it to her, Higgins and Keeley (who'd you thankfully knew would be at the dog track this morning for a meeting).

To execute step 1 with no interruptions, you made sure to arrive an hour earlier to work then you usually would - knowing that Beard liked to show up early and the boys would show up as close to practice as they could get away with. Just as you expected, Beard was alone in the office, only a couple of other people in the building at all, making for an easy entrance.

"Well, to what do I owe the pleasure of you two showing up earlier then you ever have in the 5 years I've known you." Beard asked, his feet perched high up on his desk and an open book dropped against his chest.

"I needed to ask you something, actually." Roy wrapped an arm around your waist, rubbing soothing circles into your skin, silently encouraging you to ask what you wanted to ask.

"Fire away, Katniss."

"I actually wanted to ask, um, well, if you'd walk me down the aisle?"

Beard stilled, then took a shaky breath, then stilled again. He slowly picked up the book from his chest, dog-eared the page and swung his feet down from his desk, standing and crossing the room so that he could stand in front of you. "You, you-" Another shaky breath. "You want me? Me? To walk you down the aisle?"

"Yeah. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a father and-"

Beard pulled you into a hug, something he'd never done before, and tentatively wrapped his arms under yours, pinning you against him. He was warm and smelled like cinnamon, and though you'd never been a big fan of the scent, you found right now that you'd happily bask in it forever. "Yes, of course I will, it'd be an honour."

No further words were exchanged between the two of you until he pulled away, quickly wiping at his eyes before turning to Roy with a scowl. "I can fight, just so you know." He took a step closer to him, and you swore you'd never seen Roy so afraid as when Beard stuck a firm finger in his chest. "If you hurt her, I'll hurt you." Then he retreated to his chair, picking up his book and replacing it against his chest. "So when were you thinking? I always thing spring is the best time for a wedding."

The three of you discussed everything from what date you were thinking to ideal song choices while you waited for the changing room to fill up, wanting to make sure everyone had arrived before you shared the news. When Roy had done his 6th head count and found everyone had arrived, he nodded towards the door, asking if you were ready to go and tell everyone. You nodded, letting Roy lead the way and hanging in the doorway of the coaches office until Beard was at your side.

"You didn't have to threaten him, you know. He's never hurt me once, I don't think he's going to start now."

Beard folded his arms across his chest then nudged you gently in the side as the the two of you came to stand next to Roy, him shouting 'whistle,' silencing the changing room. "Hey, that's what dads are for."

"Before I start, someone grab Nate and Will from the boot room." Jamie, being closest to the boot room, dashed in and right back out, Will and Nate right behind him. "Right. Angel, the floor is yours."

You thanked Roy before turning back to the boys, all of them waiting anxiously as they waited to see what you had to say that was so important Roy had even called Will and Nate out. "I need to know if you're all available next June - we're talking the end of June, early July." Thankfully, your job at Richmond often required planning things far in advance, even if far in advance was a year away, so no one expected anything as you started to speak. "I know it's the off season but I need you all here, in Richmond. Especially Colin."

"Why especially me?" Colin asked, one hand nervously wringing the other.

"Because I absolutely refuse to get married if my man of honour won't be able to make it."

The whole changing room erupted into a chorus of gasps, quickly followed by cheers and players and kitmen alike swarming you and Roy with hugs and cries of congratulations - which, for once, he actually entertained.

Colin was the first to reach for you to pull you into a hug, his hands shaking as he did. "You really want me to be your man of honour? At your wedding?"

"Of course I do, Col." It didn't get any less tearful asking people to be apart of your wedding. "Your my best friend. I love you." No sooner then Colin had pulled you into another hug had you been torn out of it, by a very excited Jamie.

"I can't fucking believe it me. Well, I can actually, but I also can't." He pulled you in for an even tighter hug then Colin had, probably down to the fact he had more excitement then nerves coursing through his system. "Feels like yesterday me and Phoebe were sat on your couch convincing you Roy did love you, and now look at yous."

"Will Phoebe be at the wedding?" Isaac had spun you out of Jamie's hold and into his, keeping one arm around your shoulder as he spoke to you. "Cause I don't want to be the only person eating the turkey dinosaurs; there will be turkey dinosaurs right?"

"Of course there will be, Isaac." Will pulled you out from under Isaac's arm and into a sweet, although brief, hug. "Right? Otherwise I might have to RSVP no."

"Im sure it can be arranged, what, with all of Roy's footballer money." The two laughed at your words, though a certain footballer turned coach found them more amusing.

"All my footballer money, huh?"

"I hope the fact I'm only marrying you for your money doesn't make you want to call off the wedding." You teased, spinning around and wrapping your arms around Roy's neck.

He pressed a slow and sensual kiss to your lips, ignoring the teasing shouts and cheers from his team. "Hmm, you're lucky you're cute." Roy pressed another kiss to your lips, paying no mind to the curious stares of the team around him. Though when they began to linger for a minute too long, he pulled away from you with a sigh. "Right, 50 laps, all of you." When no one moved, he raised his voice. "Now!"

Roy intertwined his fingers with yours, waving a goodbye to Beard but promising to be back before the boys had finished their 50 laps.

Keeley had reacted just how you expected her to - with many screams and squeals and a tight hug that nearly knocked you off the ground. Rebecca and Higgins were much more reserved in their responses but each offered a hug and a congratulation's to the happy couple. Roy kept your fingers intertwined the whole time, squeezing your hand tight each time someone reached out for a hug but putting up with their love otherwise.

You couldn't wait to marry him.

~*~

Knowing that the off season would start around the beginning of June, you'd decided early on the last week of June was the perfect time for the two of you to get married. And while the end of June was still a month and a half away, you were seriously considering calling the wedding off.

When you'd found out you were pregnant in February, you knew you had to keep it a close secret until you'd finished the first trimester, just incase anything happened to you or the baby, and each week since you'd found out you kept swearing to yourself you were going to tell Roy. You still hadn't. Which brought you to right now, where you were crying on the floor of your ensuite bathroom at the dead of night, at just over 12 weeks pregnant and a baby bump beginning to show.

Given the cold weather of early spring you'd kept it hidden pretty well so far, but with the progressively warmer weather, it was getting harder and harder to hide. Above that, you were now very much aware that since the baby bump had appeared, it was only going to get bigger - and you were in absolute tears over wether or not you were still going to fit into the outfit you'd picked. While your choice of outfit for your wedding wasn't anything extravagant, it made you feel extremely pretty, and hugged you in just the right way - it wouldn't if you were four months pregnant and with a baby bump that you felt was the size of Saturn.

One particularly loud sob had you clamping a hand over your mouth, hoping and praying to anything out there that Roy hadn't heard you. You didn't want him stressing, especially when you were crying over trivial things considering the life you'd always dreamed was within your grasp.

Roy's eyes blinked open though he wasn't entirely sure why, however, when he rolled over and attempted to wrap his arms around you, he was met with cold and empty sheets. The cool feel of the sheets beneath his fingers had him shooting awake; clearly you'd been out of bed a while, and considering it was pushing 2am, his first thought was that you were sick. Which wasn't too far from the truth.

Slowly, he made his way towards your en-suite bathroom, rubbing at his eyes to get him to wake up quicker. Pushing the door open, his entire being froze at the sight of you crying on the bathroom floor, him immediately falling to the ground next to you and pulling you into his lap. One hand brushed your hair out of your face while the other cupped the back of your head, pressing it into the crook of his neck. "It's okay Angel, I'm here, I'm here."

It took Roy roughly 15 minutes of rocking you gently in his arms and whispering soothing words into your hair before your sobs calmed down enough that you could talk without your words turning into a whimper. "C'mon Angel, talk to me." The way Roy oh so gently cradled your face had tears springing to your eyes again. "Or is it about me? Do you want me to call Molly? I'm sure she wouldn't mind-"

"No, it's about me." A fresh set of tears were rolling down your cheeks, but the heaving sobs that had been coming from your chest before ceased. "It's me, I've ruined everything."

"Angel..."

"I just wanted to wear a nice fucking outfit on my wedding day, and I can't, and its making me so sad it's stupid." Roy's thumb continuously wiped at the tears that were furiously running down your cheeks. "And it makes me even more sad because, because, I'm getting everything I've ever dreamed of and I'm sad over something stupid like what I can wear."

"It's not stupid, Angel face." Roy murmured against your temple, the scratch of his beard against your skin familiar and comforting. "Nothings stupid if it makes you so upset. Just talk me through it, yeah? Why can't you wear what you picked? Did it get damaged or something?"

"No, no, it's fine, it's just- it won't fit me anymore." Roy pressed a kiss to your temple, immediately spouting words of reassurance that it would still fit you and if it didn't he'd hire the best tailor in the world to make it fit and that regardless, you'd look incredibly beautiful no matter what you wore. You shook your head gently. "It's not that Roy, it's, I'm-"

You readjusted yourself in Roy's lap, turning so that your legs were either side of his, caging him in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, looking down at the bump you could just see through one of Roy's old jerseys you'd fallen asleep in, while you avoided his concerned gaze. "It's not going to fit me anymore, because I'm pregnant, Roy."

Silence filled the bathroom.

When you finally gained the courage to look up at Roy, tears were pooled in his eyes, that wonderful smile of his making the most tender appearance you'd ever seen. "You're pregnant?" He whispered, mumbling the two words over, and over, and over again. "You're pregnant."

Before you could ask Roy if he was okay, he was pressing his lips to yours, allowing the tears to fall from his eyes though without the noise of a sob. He simply kissed you over, and over, and over again, only pulling away when he could no longer contain the smile that what pulling at his lips. Your hands cradled his cheeks, wiping away each tear gently with the pad of your thumb. "I can't believe I'm crying." He scoffed, though didn't move away from to ur touch as you continued to wipe away his tears.

"If it makes you feel any better, I find the vulnerability of it incredibly hot."

One of Roy's hands moved from the side of your thighs to cup your cheek, pushing hair back behind your ear as a watery smile took over his face.

"You know," Roy paused, tenderly running his fingers up and down the side of your neck as his hand slipped down from your cheek to hold you there. "If you'd come to me 5 years ago, back when Ted and Beard first started, and told me in 5 years time I'd have everything I'd ever dreamed of? And, with the gorgeous woman from the office outside the changing rooms? I would've laughed in your face and told you to fuck off." After a moments thought, he added. "I probably wouldn't have let anyone get close enough to me to tell me that in the first place, to be honest."

"Look how far you've come." You mused, one hand slipping into the hair at the base of Roy's neck as his tears slowly stopped. "Some might say that I've made you go soft.”

Roy laughed, head tilted back against the bathroom wall as he was prevented from throwing it back further. The tilt of his head upwards granted you the perfect position to press a chaste kiss to his lips. He smiled at you softly, bringing his hand forward from the side of your neck so that he could cup your jaw. "To be loved, is to be changed." He hummed, his chest tightening as tears filled your eyes once more.

"I love you, Roy." You whispered, as though even saying it would break the sincerity of the words slipping from your lips. Although you'd said them a thousand times, it was like Roy was hearing it for the first time all over again. "Like I really, really love you Roy." Leaning forward, you rested your forehead against his. "So much... so much so that I feel like I'm never going to be able to express it enough, like if I don't get it out of me, I might die."

Roy pressed a searing kiss to your lips, sliding his hand back up your jaw and under your ear, tangling his fingers in the hair there. "I love you too, more then i ever thought I was capable of loving anyone.” Roy leaned in for another kiss then pulled away with a smirk as you ground yourself into him. "Want me to show you how much I love you, yeah?"

"Definitely."

Roy put his hands back to their original place under your thighs, slowly moving the two of you from your position on the bathroom floor to standing once more. When he was standing, you held in his arms with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, you continued the clash of tongue and teeth you'd started moments again. However, before he could get started on showing you just how much he loved you, you leaned away from him, eyes running over his whole face. "You might have to hold off on doing that thing with your hips, y'know, because of the baby."

"I'll stop doing that when the doctor tells me to stop."

~*~

Fortunately for you, at your next check up the following Thursday, the doctor gave you the all clear - on the health of the baby and the fact Roy could continue working magic with his hips. Considering you were nearly 14 weeks along, the ultrasound technician had offered to let you know the gender of the baby, but both you and Roy had agreed that you didn't want to know. You so seriously didn't want anyone to know, in fact, that Roy made a show of ripping up the envelope that contained the baby's gender right in front of the ultrasound technician after she offered it out to you; her suggestion of a gender reveal dying on her tongue.

Roy had been nothing but attentive since he'd found out; moving at your beck and call even more then normal, so much so that people around Nelson road were beginning to notice.

"Alright, what's going on?" The second Roy left your office, Isaac, Colin and Will crowed into the room, locking the door behind them. If you weren’t such a veteran of their shenanigans, you'd be getting concerned. "Are you dying?"

"Why would I be dying?" You asked, clicking the email you'd been writing closed, giving the three lads your undivided attention.

"Roy's been following you, like, more then usual though." Isaac stated, folding his arms tightly across his chest. "Weird, innit."

Before you could question what they found weird about you talking to and hanging around your fiancé, Will stepped forward, his hands tucked sheepishly in his pockets. "You're pregnant, right? I'm like 80% sure you're pregnant."

Your hand came to rest against the small bump you'd concealed under your Richmond sweater.

"Holy fuck boyo." Colin gasped, smacking his hand into Will's chest. "She is. How did you know?"

"She's glowing." Isaac and Colin tilted their heads in sync while their gaze remained directly on you, as though they were trying to see what Will saw. When it appeared they couldn't, Will let out a sigh, scratching nervously at the back of his neck. "I don't know; maybe it's the lighting."

Silence took over your small office space, the four of you alternating between staring at each other and the hand that rested against your stomach.

"Angel, you got-" Roy paused at the sight before him, scanning the room with a pointed glare. While Isaac had had the sense to lock the main door to your office when he started his interrogation, it had seemed he had forgotten to lock the connecting door from your office into the changing rooms. You'd never been more thankful to be in an office with two doors. After a few more seconds of assessment, he seethed out a "Fuck! Not a word of this to anyone, yeah?"

All three lads nodded in silence, scurrying from the room after a particularly harsh glare from Roy had told them they had overstayed their welcome in your office. As your head fell into your hands due to the stress of it all, Roy crossed the room, slipping his fingers into your hair and scratching gently at your scalp. "They're not going to tell anyone, Angel, don't stress."

"But, what-"

"No buts, or what if's, or anything." Roy chastised, pulling your head out of your hands and crouching down to meet you at eye level. He took your hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. "We tell everyone when you're ready. And if that's after the wedding, then that's after the wedding." Roy pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "And that's that."

You let out a long sigh, weight lifted from your shoulders at Roy's gentle touch and soothing words. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"You've mentioned it once or twice."

~*~

You were too scared to put your outfit on. After almost 10 months of planning every detail and waking up to see your engagement ring on your finger, you were finally getting to be Mrs Kent. And you were too scared to go out there and get dressed.

When Will, Colin and Isaac found out you were pregnant, it was on accident, but going out there, before your man of honour, bridesmaids, Phoebe and Beard to put on your outfit would be intentionally revealing your baby bump. It was so stupid, you thought, to be this worried about something that would make people happy - that would make you and Roy happy. But a small part of you just wanted things to work out how you'd planned then in your head; like being able to wear what you'd picked to marry the love of your life.

However, you wanted to get married to Roy more then you cared about keeping the baby a secret.

Everyone gasped as you walked into the main part of the hotel room. You'd forgone a dressing gown in favour of getting ready in the comfort of pyjama shorts and one of Roy's old jerseys, wanting to have a part of him with you even though you wouldn't see him the night before the wedding.

Roy had actually wanted to forgo the traditional 'no seeing the bride bullshit,' him in favour of spending every second he could get with you, but Keeley and Jamie had convinced him it would make that moment of you walking down the aisle all the more special. Though as you walked into the room, you'd wished more then anything you'd convinced Keeley to let him stay with you. All you wanted was his hand in yours as you did this.

All eyes fell to the shadow of a baby bump that could be seen through the loose material of Roy's jersey; it was the one he wore at his very first Richmond match, Kent printed and worn proudly on the back. No one moved or even dared to breath.

"Surprise?" You didn't mean for it to come out as a question, but the tense silence and feel of everyone's eyes on you had you shying away from your friends and family in a way you'd never done before. "I'm pregnant!"

Molly was the first to move, crossing the length of the room and pulling you into an embrace. "I love you." She whispered against your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I'm going to be an auntie." Within seconds the remaining people in the room swarmed you into one big group hug. Each of Colin, Keeley, Rebecca and Beard whispered congratulations to you, telling you just how beautiful you looked and how excited they were to see you walk down the aisle. Phoebe, however, pulled the funniest face at you, her brow tense in the spitting image of Roy.

"You're not wearing that, are you?"

Phoebe had magically broke the tension of the room, smiles all around as Molly and Keeley ushered you back to the other side of the door, helping you into your outfit and making sure your hair stayed in the way you'd styled it when you got changed. Fully dressed and feeling yourself, you stepped back into the main room with newfound confidence.

You were going to marry Roy - Roy who updated you on his book every night and valued your opinion on it, who still brought you lunch everyday at work, who was willing to hold you on the bathroom floor at 3am when he should've been sleeping, who made you feel like you were the only person in a room that mattered - and you couldn't be more excited.

Colin held your hand the entire drive from the hotel and the whole way from the car to the church doors. Only two pieces of wood separated you from everything you'd ever wanted. He pressed a featherlight kiss to your cheek and wished you luck before heading inside, leaving just you and Beard outside the building.

"You nervous?" He asked, moving his hand so that it rested lovingly on the small of your back.

"It's Roy." Roy always made you nervous. From the smile that had you weak in the knees when he actually decided to show it, to the butterflies the simple movement of his fingers against your skin caused; Roy had you swooning every time he looked at you. "I can't wait to get in there."

"Can you wait a second?" Ted Lasso was stood behind you, hands bashfully tucked into suit pants pockets.

"Ted." You gasped, opening your arms but not leaving Beard's side. The American rushed towards you, scooping you into a tender hug. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't make it..."

"Well, you know how Roy is, stubborn, hard-headed," Ted had aged a little since you last saw him on English soil, but he still held that quintessential ted spirit to him; even though he looked a lot more tired then you ever remembered him being. "Will do anything for the people he loves. Even if that's calling someone everyday for 8 months straight and convincing them to clear their calendar."

Roy who called one of your favourite people daily until he convinced them to make time to come to your wedding despite the fact they'd have to fly halfway across the world to attend.

"Well, I'm glad you're here Ted." He pressed a kiss to your temple, unwrapping himself from you and flattening out the front of his suit.

"I'll see you in there." Ted walked to the doors Colin had entered through moments ago, stopping and turning back to you at the last second. "You look beautiful by the way, you're practically glowing." With a knowing wink, Ted slipped through the doors, finding the way to his seat to wait for the ceremony to begin.

"Well, I think we're really ready now." You mused, linking your arm though Beard's. When you turned to flash a smile at him, you saw eyes filled with fondness, tears threatening to cloud his vision if he thought about the scene before him for too long. "Aren't we Willis?"

"Lets go, sweetheart." The pet name struck you to your core, your hand squeezing his bicep in reassurance. There was no one else you'd want to walk you down the aisle. "You're getting married!"

The ceremony ran perfectly. Willis walked you down the aisle and handed you off to Roy after whispering what you were certain was a threat in his ear. Tears brimmed Roy's waterline the whole ceremony, but they didn't spill over under you were pronounced husband and wife. No one commented on the tears that ran down Roy's cheeks, and you didn't think anyone was ever going to bring it up; a mutual understanding settling over the room that the Roy Kent that stood at the alter wasn't Roy Kent football sensation, but that he was Roy Kent, loving husband.

All those years ago Jamie had been completely and utterly right, all Roy needed was someone to show him it was okay to be soft. Thankfully, he had found that in you.

~*~

"Nell, go back to sleep baby, daddy's here."

Roy had his back turned to you as he rocked Penelope in his arms, murmuring some song that you couldn't quite make out under his breath to help her get back to sleep. In the 4 weeks since Penelope - or 'Nell' as Roy had lovingly started calling her - had been born, Roy had more then proved himself to be the amazing dad you knew he would be. Though he'd voiced his worries about not being a good dad several times throughout your pregnancy, each time you'd soothed away the worry; scratching your fingers against his scalp and reminding him of everything he'd ever done for Phoebe.

Phoebe had been the most excited to meet the baby, begging her mum to let her come over every single day after school so that she could spend time with her newborn cousin (even though that time was mostly spent with Phoebe in your lap with Nell in hers).

The Boys at Nelson Road came in for a close second when it came to being excited to meet the baby. Will, Colin and Isaac had made it their duty to show up to you and Roy's house every day after training when you were 7 months along in order to paint the babies nursery and build all the furniture that you'd bought.

They were even worse when you went into labour.

Roy had called Beard to let him know the two of you wouldn't be able to make it to work that Tuesday, and Beard loaded up the coach for a group trip to Richmond's hospital. You had the whole of AFC Richmond crowded in the waiting room, arms filled with stuffed animals, balloons and flowers. Jamie had charmed up the nurse who you were charged to, convincing him to let all of the players into your room at once. While most of the team fawned over the baby, gave you their best wishes then made their way back to the coach, Colin, Isaac, and Will asked to hold her, tears filling their eyes as they took in the sight of the tiny baby.

"She's beautiful." Colin whispered, lightly running the tip of his finger up and down her button nose. "With your parents, you're going to be the coolest kid ever. And Uncle Colin is going to make sure of it."

"You know," Will whispered, stiff as a board as he held Penelope on his arms, scared to even breath less it hurt the baby. "I remember that day I saw you with Phoebe in Tesco, and I told you I didn't realise you were a mum." Roy shot you a confused glance, reminding you you'd never actually filled him in on your trip to the supermarket that day with Phoebe. "And now you are one. It almost doesn't feel real."

"I've never held a baby before." Isaac admitted, the most relaxed holding her despite his inexperience. "It's weird, innit. Like, this baby I'm holding right now started out nothing and now she's real and alive and in my arms…Spooky."

Jamie, however, you practically had to force to hold Nell; and even then he was scared shitless. When you managed to convince him to take a seat on your hospital bed, he seemed less tense about holding her, but the ever present crease in his brow told you otherwise. "She looks just like you."

"She's got Roy's nose, and I bet she'll have his eyebrows too."

Jamie's eyes never left the baby, even as the other boys slipped out of the room with one last goodbye and a promise to come and visit Nell again when you got sent home.

"Ask us what her full name is." Roy kicked Jamie's foot, finally snapping his attention away from the newborn.

"You what?”

Apparently, he hadn't been listening, the tender tone to Roy's voice leaving as soon as it had arrived. "I said ask us what her full name is, fuckhead."

Jamie didn't ask you, he wasn't sure he could get the words out without choking up, the suggestion of the question springing tears to his eyes.

"Her full name is Penelope Jamie Kent." You hadn't seen Jamie so upset since Roy dragged him into your office, sobs wracking his body, two years ago before the journey up north to play against Manchester City at the Etihad.

He pulled Nell closer to his chest, hugging her as best as you could hold a baby, then passed her to Beard, pulling Roy in for the tightest hug you'd ever seen the two share. When Jamie came to hug you, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, whispering in your ear; "You've made Grandad go all soft." And after a brief pause. "The rest of us too."

Beard didn't stay long after Jamie left, knowing the coach was only waiting on him to return to training. He muttered something under his breath, pressed a kiss to Nell's head and then handed her back to you, pressing a kiss to yours. "Jamie’s right. Spitting image of you. Though I do agree she has Roy's nose."

"I hope she gets his smile." You quietly confessed, not missing the way Roy's lips curled up into the wonderful smile you loved so much. "We got something for you." Roy pulled out a gift bag from next to your 'we need to go to the hospital the baby is coming' bag and handed it to his fellow coach. Beard waisted no time opening the gift, a soft smile curling on his lips as he pulled out the mug, 'worlds best grandad' printed on the front and a Richmond crest printed on the back. "I love you...dad."

A tear silently ran down Beard' cheek but he didn't wipe it away, pulling you and the baby in for a group hug. After a tight squeeze, he opened up his arms, a silent invite for Roy to join. He did so without question, thanking Willis for everything.

Beard had used the mug at Nelson Road everyday since.

Nell had made a total of 3 visits so far to Nelson Road; every Thursday afternoon being the day you'd come to the dog track with her and disrupt afternoon training so that the boys could fawn over her as an end of the week treat. Tomorrow would be her 4th visit, and yet, Roy had been the one to wake up and tend to her when he'd have to be up in a few hours to coach Jamie and you could essentially sleep in until 12 and still be on time.

As he put Nell back inside her cot, you wrapped your arms around his waist and slid them up and under the front of his t-shirt. "You're such a good dad, Roy."

"Only cause you make me a good dad." He turned around in your hold, your hands now up the back of his shirt, his arms now over your shoulders/

"That doesn't even make sense." You countered, resting your chin against his chest so that you could look at him. Roy took the opportunity to press a slow and tender kiss to your lips.

"Fuck off, it totally does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

"Doesn't."

"Does."

At a whine from Nell, the two of you fell silent, not wanting to wake her after Roy had just put her back to sleep.

"She know it makes sense." The two of your were looking down at Nell's tony from where she slept soundly in the crib.

"She's only agreeing cause it's you." You lowered your chin so that the side of your head rested against Roy's chest, giving you a better look at your beautiful baby girl. "She's a total daddy's girl already, you know."

"Gets that from her mother." Roy paused after he spoke, realising quickly that his words hadn't made much sense or come out in the way he intended. "I meant, she's a total me, girl. Like she loves me a lot because you love me a lot. Fuck."

"I knew what you meant, handsome."

Roy quirked his eyebrow at your response. "You did huh?" He swept you off your feet, literally, carrying you back to your bedroom with a slip in his step.

You hand slapped against his bicep, a gasp slipping from your lips as your pieced together Roy's words paired with his suggestive tone and that glint in his eye. "The doctor said no sex for 6 weeks, Roy."

"No penetrative sex for six weeks." Roy clarified, laying you down on the mused bedsheets and kissing his way down your form; starting with scrapes of teeth against the sensitive skin of your neck, all the way down to the thick skin of your thighs. "The guy said nothing about oral."

an : thanks for reading this far *mwah* I love you <33 I hope you enjoyed this!!! Please feel free to send in a request for Roy or Jamie I'd love to write it!!!

#roy kent imagine #roy kent x reader #roy kent one shot #ted lasso x reader

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