#but by the end she was absolutely nailing her free stacks and I was getting into the flow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writing-in-april · 4 years ago

Text

Question and Answer

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Garcia gets Reader to answer some questions about their feelings for Spencer.

A/N: Hey heyyyy- here’s the twelfth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April! Oh my gosh 😱 can’t believe how many I’ve posted in a row already- thanks for all the love on them 🥰 This fic is based on this request- Writing Penelope along with Derek as side characters is one of my favorite things about some of my fluffy pieces! Feel free to leave something in my inbox here- I love hearing from all of you! (I promise I don’t bite lol) Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Non at all☺️- though if you see something you think should carry a warning please let me know 😌

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.8k

When Penelope Garcia got you alone in her office she lovingly called her‘bat cave’ and said she wanted to ‘talk’ there was no escaping it. ‘Talking’ with her usually meant she was going to bombard you with questions, usually linked to some gossip she heard from someone.

It was usually Morgan that fed her curiosity. He was somehow able to be up to date on everything and everyone. A result of that was that Garcia always got to hear the latest thing he had heard. Once Garcia was interested in whatever your answer to the gossip might be, she was without a doubt going to ask.

That’s where you found yourself on one of the slowest work days in recent memory. It had been so slow in fact, that you had been almost about to leave early since you had finished your paperwork. That was until Garcia had called your name in a singsong tone, grasped your elbow delicately with her painted nails, and gently nudged you to come talk with her in the ‘bat cave’.

“Penelope- I really want to go home. Can’t this wait another day?” Your groan perhaps was a bit pathetic as you sat down in a chair, but it had been the first time seemingly in years that you had the chance to go home early. A nap sounded really nice right now and even though you loved Garcia, that was more exciting at the moment.

“Fine fine, yes I’ll let you go soon, quit your bellyaching. And, to answer your other question, no, it can’t wait,” She plopped down into her chair, tapped on her keyboard a few times to close out some files, and then focused all her attention on you, “Just quickly answer my questions- Wait, no! Actually, let’s play a game!”

Another groan, perhaps even more pathetic than the first came out of your chest, while you also let yourself slump down in your chair. Thoughts of your bed danced in your head trying to pull you into a daydream about the nap you had been planning on taking. You then tried as best as you could to keep your focus trained on her for as long as possible. If you were able to focus; it would get done faster.

“Oh hush it’s a quick game that’ll have you out of here faster.” You perked up at that, now suddenly invested in the game that was supposedly going to get you out of here quick.

“Alright- I’ll do it if it gets me out of here quickly.”

She beamed at you for a second, then grabbing one of her decorative pens and a stack of sticky notes. Rapidly she wrote down a list that you tried to peek and see, but she hid the stack with her free hand once she saw you trying to look. Once she had finished she pushed up her glasses a bit, before outlying the rules of the ‘game’, “I want you to answer my rapid fire questions and answer without thinking! It’s supposed to give the most truthful answer from what I read on the website.”

Truthfully, it sounded silly to you, but if it got this interrogation over quick you didn’t mind playing the game. Plus whenever Garcia gave you time to answer she watched whatever your body language was and used that against you to get more information out. She had picked up on how we did our job as profilers over the years. It had become almost as instinctive to her as it was to us whenever we read behavior. Any conversation we had was screaming non verbal behavioral tells at us; it was almost impossible to turn off. So with less time in between questions and answers, it would be harder for her to analyze your movements. Garcia could honestly probably take the classes to become a profiler just as JJ had done, but everyone knew her place was in front of her screen. That was where she worked her best magic.

As soon as you nodded your head, agreeing to start the game, the questions were dropped on you at a rapid pace. The questions had started out simple enough, to get you ready for whatever bombshell question she no doubt had coming. The whole goal of the game was to catch you off guard so you’d answer as honestly as possible.

“What’s better coffee or tea?” She still hadn’t dropped the bomb and asked the question that had the only useful answer to her.

These questions were easy and you were getting comfortable. Each time another question went by the lingering reminder in the back of your head trying to warn you to be on edge slowly slipped away. Mindlessly you answered her without thought, “Coffee.”

“Who’s your favorite superhero?”

“Batman.” That answer might have been biased, when you really thought hard about it. You changed your answer when you realized you chose Batman because you were in Garcia’s ‘bat cave’, “Wait no- scratch that it’s Spider man.”

“If you could be any animal what would it be?”

“A dog.”

“What is your biggest fear?”

Again, you answered without thought even though it was a harder hitting question compared to your favorite drink or what type of animal you would be,“Being alone.”

“Who would you kiss in the office?” By now you had felt comfortable in the short little game, not even realizing how the questions had shifted to what she had been looking for all along.

“Spencer.” As soon as it came out of your mouth you slapped your hand over it. It was no use, the admission had already escaped and made its way into Garcia’s ear.

“Do you like Spencer?!” You opened your mouth in protest, but the look on your face said it all. Garcia knew she had won when you hang your head down with a sigh, in defeat. “Oh! Morgan was right!”

A little squeak by the door of the bat cave then pulled you out of your embarrassment and Garcia out of her celebration. You were already embarrassed before and it then turned into absolute mortification when you turned to see the source of the noise. Spencer was standing there, slack jawed, holding a file he had meant to give Garcia.

His voice then came out with more stutters and pauses than you had ever heard before from him, “H-hey ggguuys ummm I’ve got to go- take a nap.”

You almost wanted to snort thinking that you’d like to take that nap you’d been planning on too. Garcia went to say something, possibly to break the tension or make it even worse, but he was already gone. He bolted out the door and probably all the way home before you had a chance to explain your answer to the question that just led to even more questions.

—-

As soon as you were finally freed from Garcia’s clutches you bolted as well. Except instead of going straight home to your comfy bed you had been daydreaming about you bolted to someone else’s apartment.

“Hi, Doc.” Was the first thing you squeaked out when Spencer had opened up the door to his apartment after your polite yet incessant knocks.

He blinked at you a few times, perhaps trying to convince himself that you were really here. Clearing his throat he then replied shakily,“Hi.”

“C-can I come in?” It was your turn to stutter now, you wouldn’t lie and say you weren’t nervous about what his reaction might be. The only thing you were sure about is that he wouldn’t be outright disgusted by your feelings. You both had worked with each other for many years, becoming closer each day by day as time continued to tick by. At this point you’d call him your closest friend and you knew he wouldn’t call you disgusting for developing feelings for him. If he was going to let you down he would start by saying it’s only natural. Though, you still felt an ache in your chest even when assured that he’d at least let you down gently. Your relationship with him would be forever changed either way this conversation went.

He swung the door open more after a moment of trepidation, gesturing you through the door. You spent no time gazing around at his apartment, you had been here many times before. Instead you made a beeline for the couch, the comfiest spot to sit. You wanted to be at least comfortable if he was about to break your heart.

“C-can I ask you a question?” He fiddled with his fingers as you both sat down on his couch.

You brought your knees up to your chest as you had slipped your shoes off before sitting down. You also made sure to avert your gaze away from him, not sure if you could handle looking at him in the eyes, “What kind of question? Is it the same one as before?”

“N-no, um- well kinda… Yes and no?” The end of his jumbled sentence went up in pitch, making his own answer sound like another question.

You decided to give him a little mercy, doubting that there was any question he would ask that you would be uncomfortable with. And, you already had a feeling you knew what the question would be, “Alright Doc, I’ll let you ask your question. Go easy on me ok?”

Your little joke on the end was supposed to help him feel less nervous, but going by his awkward laugh it might have had the opposite effect. He still was able to get his next words out with a bit of confidence, “Was your answer back at work- umm honest?

Your heart fluttered at his question, beginning to beat harder in your chest as you prepared yourself to give him an honest reply. You were nervous to answer, even though you knew exactly what it was going to be deep down in your heart. Taking a deep breath you then answered the question with a simple answer, “Yes.”

He seemed relieved at your answer, relaxing his shoulders just enough that you noticed. You’d have to thank Garcia later, for finally getting you to answer the question honestly. Though, just by analyzing his behavior quickly you could tell that he still had something to say and/or ask, “Do you have another question?”

He nodded in response, his body language becoming even more closed off then before. His leg was now bouncing up and down as an attempt to soothe his building nerves. You then gave him what he had been looking for after his first question, permission to ask another, “You can ask another question, Doc.”

Tense silence sat between us for a few moments while I waited for him to speak up. He then got his courage back a little, though he still looked at the ground and fiddled with his fingers when he asked, “Would you like to go out on a date?”

It took no time to process the question, the answering instantly coming to the front of your mind. You then spoke with no trepidation, giving him a simple honest answer, “Yes.”

Ask Me Anything

—-

Tag lists (fill out this form to join any):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99 @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat @anaagraceeberr

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey @princesssmooshie @peterpanouat

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #mgg #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler fluff #30 fics in 30 days

208 notes · View notes

symphonyofthewrite · 4 years ago

Text

If These Walls Could Talk

Freaking GORGEOUS cover art by Junki Sakuraba on Instagram and Deviantart!! Definitely go check him out!! His art is incredible, and from what I can tell he’s really nice dude. He absolutely went above and beyond with this prompt. 10/10 would commission again. (And probably will once I save up enough money XD)

The wonderful art later in the chaper is by niuan_ on instagram!!

It wasn’t made/commissioned for this fic--(though I’ve since commissioned her to make cover art for me, so stay tuned for those!)--but when I saw it I couldn’t believe it!! That’s one of my favorite images in this chapter, and I couldn’t believe another artist made a piece for the same idea independently!!

I'll put the links to their profiles either in the replies or a reblog (since tumblr is dumb about links)!!

Also, FYI, I'll be using this post as my "reblog post" meaning I'll reblog this post with the later chapters of this fic, so they're all in one place. So if you want to read more of this fic, check the reblogs on this post, chances are more chapters will be there!!

Comments and reblogs are MORE than appreciated!! If you have a spare minute you will really make my week, and motivate me to keep writing!!

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too.

The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Chapter Summary:

“My mother’s name was Lisa, and she was mortal…She actually showed up at his front door. She found the castle and banged the door with the pommel of her knife…She was remarkable. She beat on the door until my father let her in, and then demanded he teach her how to be a doctor.”

Chapter 1: "Lisa”

“Is this how the castle felt to you before my mother first arrived at your door?”

The castle doesn’t like children.

Well, maybe that’s too strong to say. It simply isn’t the place for them. Its existence is a signpost: leave me alone. It is not used to having company—much less a family—inside it, nor is it ready to welcome for a crying, puking, giggling thing into the world. It does not intend to be a cozy place to coddle him into adulthood.

The castle itself pierces the sky, its turrets and towers the dripping stain of the sun’s blood across the moon.

The bare walls hold no colorful tapestries for a child to enjoy, no paintings of its many inhabitants to tell of—for there was only ever one (and maybe that ought not change. It is safe to say the castle doesn’t like change). The royal red and gold carpets are more suited to kings; not designed for spit-up, mud, and scuffing. ‘Don’t play with that’ would be a motto around here; so many contraptions either easy to break, or which could break the child. The fireplaces, while almost always lit, only ever coughed warmth onto the floor before them—they provided no snug space to curl up on a winter’s day. Even the mirrors here are empty, holding nothing but a reflection of the bare walls they sit upon.

There are certain people who were seemingly born as they are; they never owned toys, never crawled on the floor, never walked with clumsy steps—their footfalls were always this calculated count—never burped on their mother’s nice shirts, and surely never had anything so dull as a childhood. They were always just…here, on the world. There was no innocence, and no losing it. So it was with Dracula.

The very thought of Dracula ever owning toys, even in some nice cottage far away from here, with a doting mother and an absent father, with a funny last name like Cronqvist, defied sense to the castle. So no, no toys here, nor any simple charts for learning; the books divulged their secrets to more mature minds. Just blood and books, gold and gears, forgotten magic means, mirrors that reflect nothing, and a pile of prayers to a good God they used to justify their ungood, and ungodly deeds.

All these things—or their absence—do not make for the picture of a baby-proof home.

The castle has grown accustomed to being cold and dark, and listening to one master alone. It’s not a quaint place lovers look on and think we’ll raise our kids here someday.

Its master isn’t the ideal father either—after all, the castle only reflected its king. Its master knows only of blood and nails, fangs and wails, words too big for a child’s mouth, and worlds too dark for a child’s heart.

Can he be soft? Can he be gentle? Can he keep those claws, which have ripped out better men’s hearts, from piercing a child’s—his child’s…how could one who killed so many have a child?—skin? He knows many spells, but is there one that can turn those screams into laughter?

He has been soft before. Once. And that is with this woman.

Many women have walked the castle’s halls: shivering, shrieking damsels at his feet; cold and calculating queens; fragile bodies on the floor, that he broke with the same regard a child does a vase that matters to someone else.

Those ordinary people who do come often have pitchforks in their mouths, and fiery words in their closed fists. Curses stacked on the end of stakes, banging like the castle is the church bell signifying their own funerals.

It is for this reason that the castle does not like outsiders, does not open its doors easily. But it cannot deny anyone entry. Unlike the humans’ doors, which find his master guilty until proven innocent.

They always came at night. At night, when the loudest sound is your own breathing. At night, when their fires echoed loudest, and their shouts burned brightest.

They came when the flowers were closed, when only the most eerie and vicious of animals played with the skins of their prey, and the moon waxed the world in cold, drunk shine. The sun could not watch them, could not show their blood-struck hands in their full glory.

She came at sunset. When the sun still glazed her deeds in sanguine auburn, but was just deciding to turn its gaze and let the kids have their fun. Not quite day, when the sun would kill things like Dracula, but not quite night, when the hours are named after witches, and lust is strongest—be it for the body, or the blood within it. Somewhere in between death and life, violence and peace.

This woman came with a knife in her hand, yes. But a knife, at least, was not a sword. It was not a pitchfork, a spear, a whip, or a stake; all weapons that signify, if the fight wasn’t there, you were bringing it with you. Not a war-starved weapon, pointing with mal-in—and -con—tent towards the castle doors and all the things inside it. Not a thirsty thing. Something that by default faced the other direction. Something that can start a fight if it wants to, but doesn’t crave it.

The golden woman came at sunset, with a knife in her hand, and looked upon this thing, this castle that others called ‘ugly’, and ‘monstrous,’ and ‘grotesque,’ looked upon it with awe, and gasped in wonder.

She knocked. She didn’t bang her fists upon the stone, didn’t ram pitchforks and assorted insults against the innocent doors, like how-dare-they protect their master.

She knocked, and the doors opened before she could raise her fist a second time. Maybe, just this once, not because they didn’t have any other choice.

The doors—foreboding, menacing, and all the other spooky -ings one can think of—opened to a world strewn in light; the demon’s castle looked brighter, more beautiful, more alive, than half the churches she’d been to.

Her footsteps were gentle against the castle’s floors. Not a slow, forced gentleness, but also not a piercing, purposeful march. There was no apprehension to her footsteps; her feet carried her as if anxious to take her to as many rooms as they could.

At first her steps were the only sound, enough to fool some into thinking they’re alone.

And it became clear both that she was not alone, and not a fool.

But when she saw the demon, she put the knife away, and used her words.

She used her words to repeat those she herself had heard: stories. But not the kind that make monstrous men run at the doors with naughts and crosses, the kind pious people buried along with all evidence that the world wasn’t made of black and white.

Not all the stories told that this place was cold and dark and full of death.

Amongst all the stories about death, there were others that said Vlad Tepes brought this castle to life with science, forbidden knowledge, and a little bit of lightning. Stories that say there is life here.

And, in exchange for proof that these life-stories true, Dracula asked for a trade, a trade that would prove the other stories true too. He gave up the killing a while ago—(the castle has been in one place a very long time)—but he was still not used to giving for free, and definitely not used to getting for free. Vampires trade in blood and names, not diamonds and declarations. Vampires trade in things they can swallow. This castle, too, had been a gaping hole set to swallow the world and everything that entered. Never once had it given.

And she dared to say, that this place, its master, should learn to give, when the humans have done nothing but take from them—or try their best to. He ought to be the one to invite her in, to ask what she would like, to dispense pleasant words and kind actions, when the humans forgot they invented hospitality, and showed no invitation for him to even enter their homes.

But she didn’t come with a mouth full of garlic, and hands full of superstition. Her feet did not drill holes in the floor with their sharp toll, they wandered the scenic route.

She was used to being cheated. Dracula and his castle were too. But that was not why she was there. She was not there for cheap tricks, or death. She wanted something real. A little bit of the life the castle has to offer.

Her defiance wasn’t that of a terrified citizen, or angry queen, either; rather the calm resolve of someone who is asking for something they know in their heart is good, and knows they will get it. The kind of person who believes there is good in everyone, and that this good will ultimately always win, and who won’t leave until they convince this good to show its face.

The castle has watched countless men and women cower at the foot of count Dracula. Some, do have a measure of god-sanctioned defiance; they come with whips and scourges to defeat him. The castle and the king are bound together in their resolve against them.

Except one. Except this woman. One human whom both master and castle found themselves reluctant to deny, cast away, or kill, maybe even…taken with.

She may be human, but she was not like the rest; she did not light the night on fire with her thirst for blood.

So maybe, just maybe, they could let one ray of sunlight slip through the cracks.

She was also not devoid of life, and maybe that was the key.

‘Devoid of life’ was an accurate portrayal of the castle. Bats flying out of blackness is a good description of a cave, and caves don’t usually come with the brochure ‘teeming with life’, or ‘great place to take your kids!’. The castle had a soul-sucking quality to it; those who entered often found themselves leaving less alive than they arrived. It took after its vampire master. Those who didn’t actually lose their lives within its walls, often remarked upon leaving that the flowers bloomed brighter, the birds sang louder, the grass was greener, and that they missed the sunlight.

Sunlight. Such a base thing; vampires don’t need the light or warmth to be happy.

Sunlight. Such a base way to die; wanting to get out of the cold and the dark.

“Is this how the castle felt to you before my mother first arrived at your door?”

Castlevania was alive once. Once Dracula set the pumps, and its heart began to beat. He turned the gears, and its lungs inhaled. He forged the lightning, and it began to think. Once the books, full of unknown knowledge, jumped off the shelves to get the vampire king’s attention. He filled the bottles and beakers, and they bubbled, as if laughing at a joke only they shared.

They were both alive, once.

That waned, with time. The gears got arthritis, the books caught pneumonia, the experiments atrophied. The castle ached before she came.

And Dracula, alone in the halls, picking up books and putting them down again without so much as a polite glance through them, because he read them all before. Dracula looking into fractured mirrors that could take him anywhere, but deciding there wasn’t anywhere he wanted to go. Dracula, looking into old mirrors that don’t reflect him—like there was never anything to reflect, nothing alive here to begin with, and there isn’t a master for this castle after all. Nothing but a grave. Dracula sitting alone in his study, staring into the fire. No one to talk to. No sound but flipping pages and crackling fires—nothing alive. Alive but dead. This castle. Its master. Undead is the proper term.

The other women who came through here reflected the castle, or else the castle took the life out of them the moment they entered. Queens with malice-stained past, and cracked, icy future in their eyes. Just as cold as the walls. Subjects, humans throwing gruesome insults, silky flattery, or fluttering pleas at his feet. Just as empty as the mirrors.

Only one refused the castle’s bite. Only one walked in looking for life, rather than death. Looking for a thing no one thought existed here. Already presumed dead. Put six feet beneath the ground. But maybe it was here all along; maybe the light hid in the castle’s corners while the dark came out to play, and she just had to coax it out of its hiding places. Maybe the bell was ringing all this time, she was the only one who came close enough to hear it; the only one who came to put flowers on the grave.

Maybe when she felt the machinery pumping she knew the rhythm was a heartbeat. Maybe when she heard the gears clanking she knew it was the sound of inhaling and exhaling. Maybe when she saw the lightning, she wondered what it was thinking. Maybe she looked at these books, these instruments, and saw what the vampire king saw once; something alive. They weren’t dead yet—un- or otherwise. Just sick, and in need of proper treatment. She was a doctor after all. Maybe her first subject was the very books she learned from.

Lisa, who looked at this blotch on the sky, with Death in its towers, and darkness splattered on its walls, and thought that’s where I’ll learn to heal people. Lisa, who gaped in amazement at the beast of a building. Lisa, who didn’t shudder upon entering. Lisa, who didn’t scream when its master touched her, but turned to him with calm resolve, and told him she’d teach him to be more human. Lisa, who’s life eclipsed the undeath in this place.

And there was a trade that occurred that day. For Dracula’s immortal knowledge, Lisa would teach him how to live a mortal life. To travel the world as a man, to walks as a man, to eat and drink, laugh and cry, as a man. Immortality for mortality. They gave each other the world, as so many lovers promise to do. Vlad would make her immortal, and Lisa would make him mortal, with no exchange blood.

(Except to create a thing with both their blood running through it.)

So maybe, after all this talk of life, it is fitting that she wants to create life inside this castle.

Fitting, maybe. Fitting for her. But the castle is not mortal yet, and wishes it could protest that it isn’t the right size, refuse to try on the idea.

Dracula is apprehensive as well, for the castle and he are used to each other, they take after each other, because the cold, and the dark, and the death, and the alone does something to you after a while; you start talking to the walls. After the cold queens and quaking colleens leave, or leave their bloodstains the floor. After the beasts and their silver-stained bullets turn back into righteous men in the sun. After he simply outlives everyone else. When all the living things hate, fear, or else betray you, when all the living things can die, and you, who are undead, cannot, it’s the lifeless things that stand firm by your side. When the day ends and the shadows come out to play, when you’re the only one left, in the end you still have the walls. And then…the walls are all you have. And if you talk to them long enough you make a sort of pact, spoken or silent, with those speechless stones: ‘you’re the only one I can trust.’

Dracula speaks to them one day, says he wonders if he can do this, be a father at all, not to mention a good one. The castle cannot reply. But something deep inside the walls wonders if it might be nice to hear Dracula laugh. It might be nice to put on some different clothes. It might be nice for someone new to listen to from time to time. It might be nice to live again.

The castle is concerned. Used to doing things one way, being one way, and only hearing one voice. But that doesn’t mean it is unwilling, that it intends to kill the child.

It never kills anything—Dracula does that. It cannot do anything on its own, and that includes change.

The castle doesn’t like change.

…But that doesn’t mean it won’t.

And if its going to change, its master must change first. They must change together.

Vampires do not have reflections. But Dracula has a castle, and that castle will be damned if it isn’t his mirror.

Reflections are simple to change; put on some makeup, some war paint, a new change of clothes, get a piercing somewhere. Simple, yes, but not easy, to change completely, because that doesn’t mean anything’s changed inside.

The castle did not come equipped for child-rearing; there are no rooms full of toys and cradles and school supplies.

So if this is to be, they must build their son’s world themselves.

Together they set aside a room for the child’s arrival. Just one, single room. And the castle too knows, from the start, this room will be different from all the rest. They will put paintings on the walls, and banners in the halls; things to interest him, to tell him of his parents, at least, even if there are few other relatives to spend Christmas with. The carpets will be darker, instead of the stringent red, and they will make their words smaller, the books easier to understand. The rest of the castle is warm in color, but cool in atmosphere. This room will be cool in color, but warm in atmosphere. The fire will always be set in its place, and they will try their best to make sure the warmth reaches him; if the fire fails, they will knit blankets; if the blankets fail they will make him tea, or warm milk with honey; and when everything else fails they will hold him. If there are tears here, scornful stares will not greet them, instead, kisses and lullabies will be behind door number three. If this room lives, it will be because of something much softer than pounding metal and lighting.

If a child is to live here, they must change that reflection. Everything Dracula’s castle appears to be, this room will be the reverse. Separate. Something… other than the castle.

This room will bottle all the laughter had in this castle. This room will be made of and for living, not the death the rest of the place is steeped in. So much so that this room will not stand for bloodshed.

Lisa brings in supplies from her town; color and cloth, boards and brushes, needle, and thread, and paper; all the things one needs to build a universe.

It is Dracula who takes the paint, who changes the color to something other than the blacks and reds of the rest of the Vampire’s world, cementing on the walls themselves You will not be dark here, my castle. You will be kind to him, Castlevania. The castle doesn’t know its master to work with his hands like a human, but Vlad is not the same within this room either—this room is part of the trade. He doesn’t use magic, or science, as if he is telling himself with every hammer that they are going to change together, the way one does when talking to the mirror.

Lisa sits in a chair and stiches together cloth and fur to make little creatures, toys for the boy to play with. Soft things, not sharp. They are reflections too, littler, simpler ones, of the creatures howling and prowling outside the castle’s walls, or scurrying within them.

But it is the ceiling that is the crowning jewel of the room. Something they paint together—splashing it onto each other’s clothes and noses.

His parents love the stars. They often walk outside the castle walls, fingers knit into each other’s, to gaze at them. They are scholars at soul, and have charted the constellations. They want their child to be able to do the same, to watch the stars, even if he’s not outside. At the end of every day they want him to be sung to sleep by the symphony of the night.

For them, maybe, but to the castle, one of the most interesting things about this room, is the mirror. This is strange, as, while there are other mirrors in this house, they are nothing more than a silver decoration; they have no purpose here, unless they float in shards and possibility. This is an ordinary mirror. It does hold something now, however, and that’s Lisa—only giving more credence to the idea that she is the only living thing in this castle. The castle wonders if they think it will reflect the child, as if they are hoping he will take after his mother and the room.

The mirror, and the windows. In the rest of the castle, the windows are always closed, curtained, or too small to let any real light in. But here they are big, and inviting to all the wiles of the day. Dracula protested—fearing he would burn. Lisa insisted—hoping he would shine.

The mirror, the room, are empty now. The windows closed. The books and charts dormant as the rest. It is not dead, but it’s not alive either. Not even undead. Just a question. An almost.

The room lays on Frankenstein’s table; just one lightning strike—(or one child’s laugh)—away from breathing.

424 notes · View notes

theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

Text

Heartbreak For A Gift (Part 1/?)

Synopsis: Sometimes relationships start off like love stories in books. And sometimes they fall apart in a minute.

(Kind of an AU! I guess??)

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst bruh

Warnings: swearing, sadness, angst, but nothing else that I can remember. Minimal editing

Word count: 2547

A/N: Please note I don’t know what the situation is between Harry and Olivia, if it’s a stunt or they’re actually dating. Whatever the case do not harass them. This is fiction and only for the purposes of the story. If they’re actually together - GOOD FOR THEM!!! No one is entitled to other people’s private lives!

Can be read as a one-shot if ya want, but I might turn this into a very small series cause I already have ideas as to where to go further with this, so hit me up if that’s what you’d like :)

If you know you’re a part of my tag list and see you’ve been crossed out, it means I can’t tag you for whatever reason. If you still would like to be a part of my tags please message me with your previous username and updated so I can update my lists :)

When she’d first said yes to going out with Harry, she’d had zero ideas as to who he really was. Well, that was a lie, she obviously knew of him, it’s not like she completely lived under a rock, and she’d seen a couple of his interviews, but 'One Direction' or Harry Styles as a solo artist hadn’t been that big of parts of her life, so she didn’t really care much for it. They’d met at a bookstore on a sunny day in London. That’d been a good day. Her boss had let her go home a bit earlier than usual, the weather was warm, but not it’s-so-warm-I’m-sweating-my-ass-off kind of warm, sunglasses covering her eyes and hair free as the warm summer winds blew through her locks she was walking beside the Thames on her way inside the heart of the city. Because she had a little bit more free time, she decided to pop into Waterstones, which was generally not a good idea for Y/N to do if she had things in store for the day; this time she could spend the rest of the evening if she wanted to, browsing books and living her best life. Surprisingly for London, that particular Waterstones, even though it was in a densely populated area, was pretty empty, so Y/N felt free to skim through the options without having to press through a crowd of people to find the next section. As she scanned what the shelves of New-Adult fiction offered, a man also came to look at the books. He stayed a bit further away, but he was certainly someone who caught people’s attention with the bright green daisy-print covered T-shirt, chequered shorts and the three scrunchies on his wrist. The thing was as much as he’d grabbed Y/N's attention, she was more interested in the Waterstones exclusive edition of a book she’d been dying to buy, so when she saw it just sitting on the shelf, a small gasp escaped her lips. Two eyes were immediately on her, and Y/N could feel them slip back onto her form from time to time as she greedily paged through the book, but she couldn’t say her own Y/E/C eyes didn’t flit over to the man as well. He had a small bun on the top of his head, curly hair pushed away from the face, cheekbones for days, which were shaved and smooth and perfectly groomed brows arching over what seemed to be green orbs which were looking at the spine of a crime book way too intensely for it to be genuine interest. All in all, his side profile would be that of one of the characters Y/N’d simp over in a book, let alone the nails painted all colours of the rainbow which made her happy because nothing was better to see someone sticking it to the patriarchy. But their little meet-cute was interrupted as an employee apologised while he tried to squeeze past them with a giant cart filled with new release books, and almost like a lost puppy, she started to follow the stacks of books when a hand on her shoulder made her spin around only to be faced with the man. She instantly recognised his face, but, at the same time, couldn’t really pinpoint what it was about him that was so familiar.

“Sorry,” he said in a rough voice. “But you left this behind.” And in his hands was the Waterstones exclusive. Y/N’s eyes widened as she gingerly took it from him. “Oh my god, thank you! I’ve got no idea how I let it out of my fingers.” He chuckled, motioning with his chin to the employee disappearing by the corner. “I’d say you got distracted.” “Yeah, a little.” She bit her lip and drummed her nails against the cover of the book. “Well, uh… thank you. For not grabbing it for yourself.” But he just lifted his hand. “More of a Murakami kind of a man.” “Yes, well, I,” she nodded towards the book in her own hand, “like to read about people living out my dreams.” He raised his eyebrow. “It’s a murder mystery.” “Your point?” “Would you say I have issues then if I wanted to ask you out on a date?” Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest, but he looked so nervous, so genuinely open and almost scared, she couldn’t feel any ill intentions from him, so she tapped her chin a bit as if contemplating before saying, “No. I’d say you have good taste actually.’ The relieved laugh he let out made him seem even prettier than Y/N already thought he was. He extended his palm towards her, swaying on the balls of his feet a bit. “ ‘M Harry. Would probably be proper to know my name before we go anywhere further.” “Y/N.” She smiled and clasped his hand in hers. “And it would probably be proper to know I was kidding about the whole ‘watching others live out my dreams’. People living out my dreams are actually in the books having hot sex with Fae.” His laughter was loud and sudden, making Y/N duck down like she was in her Uni library and the librarians would come and shush them. But now, almost two years later since they’d first met, there was no sign of those butterflies she’d felt in the middle of the thriller section of Waterstones. Now Y/N was sitting by a large table, body slowly numbing as was her mind to keep the pain from her heart spreading. Whatever Jeff was talking about now, she didn’t hear. There were eyes on her, had to be to gauge her reaction, but they wouldn’t get anything more than slightly parted lips and a blank stare turned towards the marbled top. She knew Harry was nervous; from her peripheral vision, she saw his thumb scraping at the rest of his nail lacquer, chips of pastel yellow and green polish flaking off and floating to the carpeted floor. Y/N didn’t like LA. She’d never wanted to go there. Maybe as a tourist for a couple of weeks sometime down the line, but because of Harry and his commitment to ‘Don’t Worry, Darling’ and because he’d basically pleaded with her for days on end, she’d agreed to move there with him for the time he was shooting the movie. It’s not that the city wasn’t beautiful. The sun, the sea, the greenery surrounding her was absolutely breath-taking, but it was the people that she didn’t really mesh with. Sure, she knew dating Harry came with a lot of what LA’s society was like. The need to look absolutely physically perfect to match the unachievable barbie standard, the fake niceness people usually exhibited just to get something for themselves or possibly raise them higher on the popularity scale, but Harry had always wiped away those doubts. But now all of that seemed like one big lie. He’d told her he didn’t care for any of it, not when it concerned Y/N nor when it concerned himself. But the contract in front of them said something different. A hand touched her back. “Y/N?” Harry’s voice was tentative, wavering at the end of her name. For the first time since the proposal had been thrown out, she lifted her eyes to look around at the people in the room. Harry, Jeff, both their attorneys and Olivia Wilde and her attorney. The other woman, once their gazes met, immediately looked away. Y/N wanted to scoff at that. “What…” Harry gulped, brushing a hand across her back. She’d never flinched away from him, but this time she did. Harry visibly shrunk in his seat and pulled back. “What do you think?” What did she think? Well, she was thinking a lot of things, and the urge to say all of them was immense, but instead Y/N bit down on her tongue, reaching for the legal papers in front of her and skimmed through them. She’d read each and every word as they’d been read out loud by the attorney, and every letter had been burned into her brain now. There was no way to get them out from her mind, and they’d haunt her forever. “The fact that you’re asking me what I think of it already means you’re considering this.” Surprisingly enough, her voice was steady even though she was on the verge of collapsing after everything. “So, I’ll make this really easy for you – do it. Because, from now on, you’re a single man and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” Harry’s face paled immediately at her words, hand moving to grasp Y/N’s, but they were in a tight ball in her lap, not moving an inch at his touch. “Y/N, please.” Olivia was the one reaching out now, a pained and terrified look on her face, but the girl just stood up from her chair and went to the coat rack taking her coat and the bag that was discarded by it. “No, you asked what I thought.” Tears had started to form in her eyes while she shrugged on her jacket. “This is what I think. If you even for a second assumed I’d be alright with this shitty stunt, Harry, then through the last two years we've spent together, you’ve learned nothing about me, and to me, it means it’s not worth it.” Harry was now standing, desperate to touch her face, but Y/N once again pulled away. “You two,” Y/N said pointing between Olivia and Harry, their faces twins of fear and regret. “Have never needed publicity. Not like this, so don’t try and bullshit me that this will make great promo for the movie. There are so many other ways you could drum up interest, but this…” She let out an unamused chuckle. “How could you think I’d be okay with you pretending to be in a relationship with someone else?” “No, please… just hear us out. You don’t know what it’s like.” Harry tried to plead, hands in his hair, but it was the wrong thing to say, as she took a step back, eyes wide in disbelief. But Y/N was calm, and with how rigid Harry became he knew he’d fucked up more than before. “I don’t understand?" she breathed. “The number of things and events I’ve said ‘no’ to… the…” Her voice was as still as the sea before a storm as she took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Harry wants Y/N there for the opening of his tour, so Y/N drops everything and flies out even though she misses a presentation that could have her up for a promotion. Harry doesn’t want to be seen walking inside a club with someone, so Y/N goes to the back entrance to save his face. Harry is tired and just wants to sleep, so Y/N passes on her friends’ birthdays because he wants cuddles. What Harry wants, Y/N does. And I did. I did all that happily while keeping our relationship private while snaking in and out through back doors like I was some dirty secret of yours just so you could keep the illusion you’re single…” Y/N shook her head. “I think I understand very well… But now… it’s my turn, my time to ask of you something.” “Anything,” he pleaded, probably thinking that Y/N was going to ask him not to go with Jeff’s stunt, and he’d gladly tell them all to fuck off if it meant her staying. “I’ll do anything.” “Let me go.” If Harry’s heart hadn’t been in his chest you would’ve been able to hear it break as it smashed against the floor. “Let me go,” she repeated. “And don’t come after me. Because I won’t take any part in this.” “But –,” he was choking on his words. “But I don’t want to. I love you; I can’t just let you walk away like that. I won’t do it, none of this is worth it.” “And I didn’t want to do a lot of things, especially sit in a meeting on Valentine’s day where my boyfriend was talking about faking a relationship to promote a fucking movie, but here we are.” This time when he reached out to cup her cheek, Y/N let him. “Please. I swear I won’t do it, just please let’s talk about this. Don’t give up on me.” But she was unwavering. “For the rest of our relationship, however long that might’ve been, I would’ve wondered if you hated me if you despised me for not agreeing to go with it if the movie didn’t do as well as your management predicts it will with this. And I won’t have that. I won’t be in a relationship where every second will be spent in doubt that I’m stifling your career and you could potentially resent me.” “I could never hate you.” “Yeah.” She let out a sob. “You actually claim to love me but would be willing to put me through that kind of fuckery, so something has to be a lie.” Without looking at anyone else in the office, Y/N stepped away from the man who once made her feel like she could conquer the top of the world and opened the door, but didn’t even manage to take a step outside when the voice of the person she never wanted to hear from called after her, and although Y/N had been calm and collected, she snapped at him. “Oh, don’t worry, Jeff,” she snarled. “It’s not like I can talk about anything that happened here. You made sure of it. Smart move, by the way, I’d say you should continue it. NDAs right before any meeting… I guess that’s how you keep your clients' careers spotless, so your stunt won’t be exposed.” The way she whipped around to move towards the door would’ve given her whiplash, if not for Harry standing in front of her, arms weaving around to keep her in place. “I’m sorry." He was verging on hysterics. "Please just… please Y/N don’t…” It seemed like he no longer even understood what he was pleading for. For Y/N to not break up? To not leave the room? LA? All he knew was that if he let her walk out of the door, he’d never see her again, and she’d make sure of it. “No, Harry, I think I actually will, because the thought of being in the same city as you, is going to make me throw up right now,” Y/N said eyes not daring to meet his, because if she did, she'd break and her resolve would dissipate. “Besides, you have loads of things to talk about. By the time you get back, I’ll have my stuff out of the hotel. And Jeff?” His manager looked sheepish as she glanced at Y/N. “The least you owe me is a ticket back home. The first flight you can find.” He didn’t answer, just nodded. She didn't deign to thank him. “Happy fucking Valentines to you two.” She looked at Olivia and Harry, who was breaking apart at the seams, but no longer could she find it in herself to care. He didn’t care enough about her anyway. “Hope you have a very happy relationship.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15 @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland @raylovessarcasm

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: I’m (kinda?) back? I guess. I dunno. I’m in this weird place where I’m writing my books and then I get inspo for fics and I start writing them, but can’t seem to finish them so I dunno :D

P.S. what did ya think?

P.S.S. please don’t repost my works on other platforms (Wattpad Ao3 etc without specific written permission)

P.S.S.S. my tags are always open :)

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles and you #harry styles and y/n #harry styles and reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader smut #don't worry darling #olivia wilde #one direction #one direction imagine #harry styles fandom

365 notes · View notes

saltynsassy31 · 3 years ago

Note

If this is too angsty, you don't have to do it- Plus, considering the topic and how it probably clashes with what you already have in mind, if you write about this, you also don't have to make this canon.

In the Murder Family AU, what if Spamton is kidnapped and interrogated about his siblings' weaknesses, since they know they're a target? First, he won't talk, but then he's bribed and suddenly there's an Idea™. :)

When his siblings arrive, Spamton's just there counting some bills, and the kidnapper starts bragging about knowing their weaknesses. At first, it looks like he betrayed them... Then the kidnapper starts listing off information that's just plain false and maybe super silly. Meanwhile, maybe Spamton's giving the kidnapper this smug grin and silently mocking them behind their back.

(Asks are open so feel free to ask about my au or anything else or request fanfiction)

You call that angsty!? Girl I was laughing my ass off I LOVE that idea XD

I just HAD to stop everything and write it kvdkfkka

And I do absolutely want to make it canon, it seems so him to do that lmao

Here ya go!

(This happens after they all opened up and they know he knows)

Yellow - Sunny - he/him - 24

Orange - Mango - he/him - 23

Pink - Peach - he/she - 22

Blue - Plum - he/they - 21

Spamton - ø - he/him - 16

When Spamton left his house he expected to be a normal day, meet up with Pip, go to school and go back home in the end of the day. Maybe have Pip over to play video games

But getting kidnapped was not on the list

Now this isn't the first time nor will it be the last time this happens

But this was a whole other level of annoying, they weren't even that good! Where's the flare, the drama, the danger!

He was just tied to a chair in a dark room as the kidnappers interrogate him

"You know, I'm [[bored]] you guys are the worst [[criminals in your area]]" He said with a heavy sigh

The man slammed his fist to the table shaking it, Spamton didn't even flinch and just gave him a bored look

"This isn't some type of game-"

"You're right, it's not games are [[fun for the family!]] This isn't"

The guy's eyes twitched "listen here yoy little shit, you will tell us your brothers weaknesses or we'll make sure you don't see them ever again"

Spamton just rolled his eyes, he knew those threats had no real weight to them, he knew his brothers would massacre him in a second

"I'm not telling you shit" he said sternly

"Alright, then I guess you wouldn't want this" he said stepping aside as one of his assistants brought forth a suitcase, and when she opened the case it was stacked to the brim with money

They've definitely done their research on him

But not enough research as an idea popped up in his head

"Ok, ok you got me you've got a [[deal]]"

The kidnappers smirked "finally, we are getting somewhere"

•••••••

"He was WHAT!?" Sunny yelled slamming his hand on the counter of the kitchen scaring the poor swatchling

"Sunny calmed down, you're scaring the kid" Plum said resting a hand over Pip's shoulder

"Yeah, and this isn't the first time. Why are you so shocked?" Peach said as she did her nails

Sunny huffed and sat back down on the highchair

"how did you say they look like?" Plum asked looking back down at Pip

"U-uh, well, i couldn't see much of their faces b-but I know that, um, I know roughly w-where they went" Pip sutured nervously

"Could you tell us where?" Mango said opening his laptop

•••••

They arrived to a large abandoned factory

"Really, they couldn't be more obvious?" Pink said looking unimpressed

"For once I agree with Pink" Yellow said looking just as disappointed

"Whatever, let's just get Spamton and leave. I still have a series to finish before tomorrow" Pink said walking off to the building

He kicked the door down not bothering to hide her presence while Yellow went off to to hide himself to be able to shoot whoever dared hurt Pink or Spamton

"Alright, where's the kid. Hand him over and I'll consider not cutting ya'lls dick off"

"Well, well, well if it isn't the famous agent Pink"

"Oh so you've hear of me? How flattering, now hand over the kid"

"I see you're going straight to the point"

Pink scoffed "you're quite confident for someone who looks like a cartoon villain"

"And you speak quite confidentially for someone so weak"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, you little brother was oh so generous to tell me all of your insecurities for some quick money" the man said walking around her with a smirk

"Isn't that right spamton" he said Now standing next to Pink fully revealing Spamton counting how much money was in the suitcase

"Sure thing, buddy" Spamton said with a satisfied smile

Pink hadn't felt so betrayed in her life, Yellow was standing on the second floor looking through a hole there and he nearly dropped his gun shocked by the revelation

"Spamton, h-how could you do this!" Pink shouted angrily "after everything you sell us out for some quick cash!?"

Spamton raised his hand "calm down Pink, hear the man finish first" he said with a wink wich left ger utterly confused

The man snapped his finger and kne of his assistants came back with a small box. Pink raised a brow confused

"Now, you either corporate with us or you will have to face your greatest fear"

"Uh, yeah no. Sorry honey but i don't think I'll be cooperative with anyone, I'm not even willing to do what my superiors tell me to do"

<Pink, are you nuts! What if they truly have something dangerous there that could hurt you!> Blue scolded from the commutator

"Don't worry, Yellow will just shoot his brains off if anything happened" Pink said in a whisper so only blue would hear it

The man shrugged "Alright suit yourself" the man nodded and the assistant opened the box and threw whatever was in it at her

Pink screamed and closed his eyes but when nothing else happened she opened her eyes to see they had thrown her a snake

He didn't know if he should cry of relief or laugh, she was paralysed out of confusion, his mind processing thr situation and began to violently shake and fall to the floor holding to burst out from laughing

Though the other people thought that she was shaking out of fear

"And as for agent yellow, always hiding in the shadows, thought to be a skillfil move. But in reality you're allergic to the sun!"

When he said that one of the assistants pulled a lever that opened the ceiling

And with that Yellow promptly began to laugh ao loud it sounded like screaming

"Orange's code is so corrupted that just seeing a image of a cat will make him malfunction" he said as one of the assistants sent and image to him

"And blue, sweet sweet blue. Always so reasonable but in reality you're just a dirty little minded scum who can't hold themselves when exposed to this song!"

And with that sunshine, lollipop and rainbows began to play

The man smirked in victory having just defeated the addisons but it soon fell when he heard the historical laughter from Pink

"Oh god, oh my *wheeze* spamton you genius little shit" Pink said between gasps of air "God, what was I thinking"

"What- wait you're supposed to be scared-"

Spamton got up from the chair closing the suitcase and walked over to Pink "Oh right, when i said she couldn't stand snakes I ment as in people, and sunny is allergic to sunscreen not the sun, whoops" he said with an innocent smile

"Th- then what about-"

"Orange and blue? I can't believe you thought thay was true!" Spamton said bursting out laughing

Before the man could say anything he was shot right through the head effectively killing him

The other people working for him just scurried away in dear of getting killed as well

"Are you going to shoot them too" Spamton asked as he saw his brother jump down from the second floor

"No, we aren't getting payed enough for this extra labour. Come on let's get you home, you made Pip worried sick for you"

"Like you weren't bawling your eyes out" Mango said through the communicator

"Shut it" Sunny said turning it off, the embarrassed blush hidden behind his mask

Spamton and Peach began to laugh "awww, you were worried about me?" Spamton teased

"Ugh, yes! You're always so reckless of course I'll worry" Sunny said ruffling his hair

They all walked out and back home laughing over the situation, this would be something they be talking on dinner night for a long time for sure

Author's nore

I hope you liked this! I couldn't help but laugh while writing this, I just had to much fun writing it XD

Also @your-dm-shy I said I would tag you so here you go! Though this is more comedy based i do have an angsty one I'm writing wich I can also tag you in if you'd like thay more when I'm done

Also also

I hope you don't mind me asking D but if you are reading the end notes could you help me with writing Mango and sunny 👉👈

I relaized I focused with more on pink and blue more than these two and Idk what to do for them if I'm being completely honest and I've really been liking the ideas you've gave so far so I'd appreciate the help

#murder family au #deltarune #deltarune au #spamton deltarune #swatchling oc #deltarune chapter2 #spamton #spamton g. spamton #the addisons #the addisons are spamton's brothers #addison spamton

26 notes · View notes

magalidragon · 3 years ago

Text

Okay drabble #2 for @lalacristina18 ‘s ask! Hope you like this one! It’s a little silly and kind of Fixer Upper Fanfiction ( @nlights37 is that a thing? I’m doing it) meets my drabble “wet paint.”

Enjoy!

haunted house | 30. “You better watch yourself”

It was the dumbest thing she had ever done.

Except she felt like she had to do it.

How else was she going to get the cute handyman to ask her out?

"Just ask him out!" her best friend shouted, as she took a crowbar to the siding on her house, prying up the nails. Missandei was used to most of her antics, but she knew this was going too far. She watched, amazed, slightly terrified, and in awe, muttering, "You have gone mental Daenerys."

Maybe she had gone mental, but she was also put off by how attractive the handyman was. He was incredibly sweet. A little goofy; he apologized one day when he showed up in thick black glasses, saying he'd forgotten to put his contacts in before he left the house. She had wondered why someone would apologize for that, but she soon learned that Jon Snow, Handyman Extraordinaire, apologized for quite a few things that were in no way his fault or under his control.

Like when he couldn't get a part in time to fix her hot water tank, because it was a weekend and the store was closed. "No problem, guess I'll see you Monday," she had simply said with a smile and a cheerful glee, because she knew they were closed on the weekend and he'd have to come back Monday.

Or when she had purposefully yanked out some sort of fuse in her car so it wouldn't start and he had apologized that it had gone missing. "Not your fault at all!" Because it's totally my fault and then she'd pretended to find the fuse on the ground. "Will this fix it?"

He frowned at the tiny piece of place and wire. "Um, aye, that's so weird..."

Today she was going to claim there was something wrong with her siding and it needed to be replaced. She dropped the crowbar, wiping sweat off her forehead, and placed her hands on her hips, glancing at Missandei, who was shaking her head side-to-side. "What?"

"Just bloody ask him out! I'll do it for you. You're destroying your house just to get him to come over." She smirked. "He has to know what you're doing. He's just taking your money and knowing you're using him which is wrong, or he's really bloody stupid and that's not great either."

"You haven't met him yet."

"What guy could be so attractive and cute and sweet and all that for you to resort to this!?" Missandei waved her hands at the splintered wood at her feet. She sighed, closing her eyes. "Dany, love, you are my best friend but..."

"Good morning!"

Dany threw the crowbar into the bushes, spinning on her heels and beaming at the man who had poked his head around the open fence to her back garden. She waved. "Hello Jon! Good morning to you!" She rounded on Missandei, who stared at him and smirked knowingly. "You're a little early."

He turned pink, coming around the corner holding onto his toolbox. "Aye, sorry about that, I thought I might get you a coffee..." he trailed off and politely smiled at Missandei. "Oh I am sorry, I would have gotten another....here, you can have mine if you want."

To her best friend's stunned silence, he removed one of the two takeout coffee cups from the tray in his other hand and passed it to her. Missandei swallowed hard, clearing her throat. "Thank you, that's...so nice of you."

He smiled again in his shy, half-smile way that Dany absolutely bloody adored, and turned his face to her. "You called last night and said that your bathroom pipes were leaking again? I don't know what is going on, I mean..." He scratched his hair, brow furrowing, and gazed up at the old-as-shit house she had purchased with intent to completely renovate. "I swear I just fixed those..."

"Oh you did, I'm sure this place is cursed."

"By a Valyrian dragon," Missandei mumbled under her breath.

Dany stepped on her foot and crossed her arms, grinning. "And would you look at this? This siding is rotten, I think we'll need to replace it."

"Um, yes of course." He knelt and picked up some of the wood, shaking his head. "You must have an angry ghost Dany, this looks like someone took a crowbar to it." He was immediately concerned, jumping to his feet. "You should file a police report, someone could be vandalizing your property!"

Missandei sipped her free coffee and mumbled again, not so quietly, "Hmm, someone with silver hair I think."

"What?" Jon asked.

"Ignore her, she's mad." She forced another smile. "It's fine. I...thank you Jon, perhaps look at those pipes first and then we can look at the siding."

"I have wood," he blurted out.

Missandei choked. Dany flushed bright red. "Oh?"

"Hmm, in the truck. Be right back." He turned on his heel and walked away. Dany elbowed her best friend, who stared now at his retreating back.

"Oh my."

"It's beautiful. I just like to look at it."

Missandei patted her arm. "Daenerys you are my best friend, but if you don't ask him out by the end of the day, I'm going to tell him everything you've been doing and only because I'm scared you might set your house on fire just to watch him come running in with the fire hose."

Dany hummed. The idea was appealing, but arson was certainly not an option.

Yet.

---

It was the end of the day; she'd tried her damndest to get him to ask her out. Missandei had left, becaus she claimed she couldn't watch it any longer, proclaiming them both "stupid idiots" and Dany had to agree. She was a stupid idiot, trying to get him to look at her as something other than the crazy lady in the haunted house. She'd worn her bikini top while gardening, she'd broken her siding, and stuffed leaves in her gutters.

And Jon Snow still didn't bloody get it.

Maybe he was stupid, she thought, and watched him bent over some exposed pipes in the hallway leading to the master bedroom. A himbo or something. Except she knew he wasn't, because she'd seen that he had a stack of books in his truck to return to the library, one of which happened to be her brother's boring ass tome on Targaryen History, and he'd eagerly chatted with her about it.

"So why are you a contractor?" she asked. She kept referring to him as a handyman, but reminded herself he was more than that. He ran his own business and lumber yard up in Winterfell. "Do you just like fixing things?"

He shrugged, reaching his arm down into the pipes. "I do like fixing things, but when I got out of the military, nothing really appealed to me. Didn't want a boss again and I like building things. Working on my own terms."

"I like that too." It was why she moved up North, a freelance journalist, and needing a safe quiet space to recharge and focus between assignments. She got up and cleared her throat. "I'll be downstairs if you need me." She was halfway down the stairs when she heard a strange sound. It was a yowl.

It sounded like Drogon, she thought, turning towards the wall. "Drogon?" she called.

He meowed again, pitiful. She moved closer towards the wall and knocked. Her voice trembled, calling once more. "Drogon?"

A light scratching and more yowling.

She screamed, realizing with horror that Drogon was inside the bloody wall. "DROGON!" She banged on the wall, running up the stairs, crying out. "Jon! Drogon's in the wall!"

"What?"

"I think he must have crawled in when we were talking and not looking, oh my gods, Drogon!"

Jon frowned at her, still not moving. He narrowed his eyes. "Drogon's in the wall, huh?"

"I think so."

He cocked his head and got to his feet, sighing hard. "Dany, I...I think I know what's going on and..." He turned bright pink. "I really have to confess something..." He shifted on his feet and blurted out, really fast, his Northern burr thick. "I...I know that not everything here is breaking and...and I'm fixing it and stuff, but...well...the store was open and I didn't get hte part because I wanted to come see you and...and I may not have cleaned the gutters all the way so I could come back and...oh gods, I haven't charged you at all because I'm just...I like you!"

Her eyes widened, too terrified for her cat to process what he'd just admitted to her. "But...I...I'm sorry, but he's really in the wall! Listen!"

They both were quiet and after a second, heard the pathetic howling of a trapped cat.

Jon moaned, mortified, shoving his face into his palms. "Oh my gods! I'm so sorry! I thought...oh fuck, forget what I said!"

"No I can't forget it because I like you too!" They could have this conversation after they saved her damn cat.

It took awhile, of her trying to coax the damn cat out from the opening in the floor, to Jon carefully searching and finding a space in the wall to knock through with a sledgehammer so he wouldn't hit Drogon or anything unsafe. Bits of drywall and debris scattered, "You better watch yourself," she warned him, when Drogon began to hiss and pant, terrified as they drew closer to him. "He might attack!"

"He's just scared, he'll be alright."

A couple hours later, her entire hallway and stairwell covered in broken bits of drywall, plaster, wood, and insulation, her very dirty and ashy cat enveloped in a blanket in her arms, Dany finally looked up at JOn. He hadn't said a word to her about his confession of not really fixing anything because he liked her and wanted ot keep seeing her.

She ducked her head, whispering, "I know it was wrong of me too, to keep breaking things...I just really liked you too."

"I'm not good with women," he admitted.

"Clearly, I was walking around in my bikini and you didnt say a word."

"I was trying to be professional!"

She giggled. Drogon whined in her arms. She scowled. "Hey! You didn't think I was serious that my cat got stuck in the wall!"

"I thought it was another thing like when you called me to say that your pipes were clogged at ten at night." He arched his brows. "Come on Dany."

"Alright, that was a ruse...but he really did get stuck!" She let go of Drogon, who raced into her bedroom to hide under the bed and lick his wounds-- more like his pride at having to be rescued by humans of all things. She looked up at Jon, sitting on the step just above her and grinned. "Can we agree to just...kind of start over?"

he nodded and licked his lips; she shivered. "Start over at dinner tonight?"

"Yes, dinner is perfect."

"And I'll be the first thing in the morning to start working on..." he gazed around at the chaos surrounding them, sighing. "This."

"Sounds good."

Turned out he didn't have to show up early at all the next morning, because he was already there, fast asleep in her bed, both of them exhausted. Dinner had been merely an afterthought.

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfic #stupid silly shit here #dorkssss

52 notes · View notes

stripper-patrick · 4 years ago

Text

China Love 🎎Andy Barber

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: smut, language, daddy kink, straight up nastiness, dom!Andy, angst, protected, this is a 2 parter

Ima try my best to do a 3rd person POV

Tags: @rebellious-desires @mrsbanreswillseeyou @eclecticblkgirl @designerwriterchic @bvssmob

Relationship: Andy Barber x black plus sized reader

~Andy’s POV~

2:46am and all I can think about is her moans and how good I made her feel. Her smile when I walk into the room, how strong she is, especially strong-minded. Laurie stirs in her sleep resting her arm on my chest and that’s when I look at her. I don’t find the same love I had for her before Y/N. It’s not to say I don’t love her as a person. I do dearly and I love her as the mother of my child but I don’t love her as my wife anymore.

I sigh closing my eyes finally drifting to sleep not wanting to think anymore.

...

Y/N has been avoiding me for about 3 weeks and I can’t help but feel bad. The truth is I don’t know how to tell her I want her. That night is all I can think about. I’ve been so stressed out these last few weeks because my son might be a suspect in a murder case. That’s really been weighing on my shoulders especially since I’ve been kicked off the case. Laurie has been growing cold against me and I think she believes our son did it. There’s no way he did it. And I’m scared to ask just in case she thinks I’m trying to accuse her. I just need to know we’re on the same page as a family.

I’m sitting at my desk when I’ve finally had enough. I press the button for my assistant and she walks in with a smile “hey Lynn can you bring Y/N in here to me please?”

“Yes sir” she leaves and I take a deep breath standing up. I watch out of the glass as Y/N pushes her chair out and walks with Lynn. She opens the door and sees me folding her arms. Flashbacks hit me hard and next thing I know I’m having to shield my boner. She looks so gotdamn good with her beautiful mahogany hair placed into a neat puff on top of her head, her shapely body concealed into a short tight floral skirt and an olive green top with nude sandals with gems on them. Maybe it’s because I was drunk but I’m just noticing the tattoo on the inside of her wrist that says ‘breathe’ in intricate letters

“You wanted to see me” she doesn’t even make direct eye contact with me. I nod towards the seat and she shuts the door and sits down. I lean on the front of my table watching her cross her legs and move back.

“Can I ask why you’ve been avoiding me? And don’t lie”

“Because I feel absolutely terrible about what your wife will say when she finds out you fucked your intern and further more I don’t wanna be fired for fraternizing with my bosses boss” she cuts right the the chase

“Understandable but you won’t get fired” I reassure her

“Andy I already have people that don’t like me in this office and I don’t need our business getting out and I’m scared”

“Don’t be Y/N but if you wanna stop I completely understand” I nod “I just want the old us back” I’m referring to how much we used to be. Like 2 peas in a pod. Bound at the hip. Going from best friends to not even speaking is different for us.

She stares at me with her big daunting brown eyes “I bought you a coffee it might be a lil cold but you’ll be ok” I chuckle dropping my head while she stands up to get it. Honestly I don’t wanna stop what we’re doing because I can’t get enough of her but if that’s what she wants then I won’t argue it.

Y/N comes back with the coffee in her hand and hands it to me. “Have you talked to

Laurie about it yet?” She cross her arms looking at me and it’s just something about her stance that makes me wanna place her over my knee and smack her ass red. Laurie never really enjoyed when I spanked her or pulled her hair or even choked her.

“Absolutely not” I take a sip of the lukewarm coffee. She nods in approval.

“Well back to my never ending paperwork to file”

“Just do these for me and fill this out and have it back to me by the end of the day” I watch as YN scans the paper I gave her skipping the other papers. “This is an official hiring worksheet” she states as a matter of factly.

“I’m aware”

“You wanna hire me?”

“Yea and plus you’ll make more money that what you’re making now as an intern so fill it out and you’ve got it” I smile. She bites her lip and I know she said we should stop but I could fill that pretty pussy one more time.

“Thanks” she smiles. I watch her walk away before taking a deep breath. I sit back behind my desk and continue working.

....

Another late night at the office. I sigh rubbing my hands over my face. I look out and see Y/N coming in here. I believe it’s only me and her in here. I watch as a tall man stand up and walk to her. It’s Neal. He slams papers on her desk startling her yelling throughout the office.

“You dumbass bitch. You filed the wrong fucking stack” she stands up in protest. Anger fills me half way and I’m about to slap the dog shit out of him for talking to her like that.

“Don’t you ever in your gotdamn life say some bullshit like that Neal. I’ve dealt with your shit long enough. That stack was getting filed regardless right? Ard then chill out with the fuck shit” there’s her Baltimore accent. He rises above her with intimidating power and I stand up jogging to the door. Anger washes over me as I swing the door open and stomp towards the pair. I didn’t even notice the shocked scared expression painted on Y/N’s face. I grab Neal by the collar seething like a rabid animal. Without saying a word to him I give him a death glare as a warning.

“Andy” Y/N peeps out. Neal cracks a smile and I press him against the wall watching the humor drain from his face replaced with sheer terror.

“You think this is a joke? Do you?” I scream

“Andy” Y/N screams louder and I come to my senses. I let him go watching him scramble to gather his things leaning collectively. I let out a deep sigh and she’s comes to my aid rubbing my shoulder “calm down I’m ok he didn’t hurt me”

“He wouldn’t have gotten the chance” I take a deep breath

...

It’s been a few weeks since the ordeal and unfortunately after that I was let off my sons case. To make matters worse me and Laurie got into an argument that I’m sure puts us close to the brink of separation. I believe that she thinks Jacob murdered Ben and she won’t admit to it and keeps trying to switch the narrative.

I’m sitting on the couch drinking a beer at 10:30 at night when I get a call. It’s Y/N.

“Hey Y/N” I swig the last of my beer

“Hey Andy are you busy?” She asks. She sounds nervous

“No why?” I ask smiling at the sweet sound of her voice

“Can you come by the office I have something for you”

“Y/N you know they’re gonna lose their shit if they see me in there especially after hours”

“Please it’ll be worth it” she pleads. I can already envision her bottom lip puckered out and her arms crossed. I sigh standing up stretching my back

“I’ll be there soon”

“Yay” she perks up and I laugh hanging up. I grab my coat and hear the footsteps of my basically estranged wife approaching.

“Where are you going? It’s 11:30”

“To handle some business at work” I lie. I’m not even sure what Y/N is up to. If it’s what I think it is then of course Laurie can’t know.

“I thought you were kicked off the case”

“Just some important files I forgot to log into the system. No big deal” I pull on my coat placing my hood on my head and exit swiftly. The heavy rain patters hard on the concrete splashing upward with each step I take toward the car.

I get in and press the start button watching Laurie observe me through the curtain. I reverse out of the driveway pulling off into the night.

....

I open the doors and see YN standing there with a trench coat and some heels on and a bottle of champagne. She doesn’t notice my movements as she smoothes out the wrinkles in her coat trying to perfect herself. She doesn’t realize she’s already perfect.

“To what do I owe this dubious pleasure Ms. YLN?” I inquire placing my hands on my pocket and leaning on the door frame. Her smile is bright when our eyes lock.

“Well I have made a change of my mind on something” I walk towards her where she sits me down in the chair standing before me. My heart is racing and my dick is starting to get hard.

“I bought the champagne just in case you need some extra convincing” she laughs. YN opens her coat dropping it on the floor revealing a beautiful 2 piece LINGERIE set. Her body compliments the piece beautifully and that’s when I really take her in. Not just for her sex appeal but for her in general. She kisses me leaning down and straddling my waist where I hold her hips and grab a handful of what’s really mine.

<3rd Person POV>

Andy can’t help but moan as YN grinds down on his thick throbbing boner just waiting to be released from its shackles. Her dominant side takes over and she grabs his face planting an open mouth kiss on his neck. She works on his pants getting on her knees. Mouth salivating as his dick finally springs free. She wraps her acrylic nails around the base swirling her top around collecting the precum.

Andy sinks in the chair ravishing in her skills. He presses her hair out of the way watching the way her pretty brown eyes stare back at him while she sucks and slurps her way to his soul. His head falls back guiding his hips into the back of her throat never breaking rhythm. She pulls his penis out of her mouth rubbing her thumb and palm over the tip while she takes one of his balls in his mouth. A loud moan escapes his lips. Andy has never experienced this before. Not this detailed to say the least.

All the while he’s receiving glorious pleasure, Laurie is home rocking and sobbing on the shower floor. She’s come to the conclusion that her husband doesn’t love her anymore and than her son is a murderer. While one of those is true she can’t help but feel rage and insanity boil within her.

Laurie collects herself and dries off grabbing a pair of jeans and a a shirt. She places her wet hair up letting it air dry. Her long legs stride to her sons room where he’d playing his game but pauses it and looks at her “are you ok mom?” Jacob asks

“Come with me honey we’re gonna go for a ride” before he can respond Laurie leaves the room going downstairs grabbing her shoes. She’s out of her mind. It’s like she’s watching herself complete this indescribable action and she can’t stop it. But she knows deep down in her heart Jacob murdered this boy and she can’t live her life knowing her son is a murderer.

Andy pulls YN up by the neck dragging his tongue along the bottom of her mouth holding her captive in his spell once again. He pulls her panties off collecting her wetness through his fingers. She’s more than ready. Andy pulls YN down on top of his dick watching her gasp as he fills her up.

“Feel that?” He rasps “that’s all yours”

“It’s mine. You’re mine” she utters rocking and swirling her hips electrifying her heated body. Her hands grip the arm rests of the chair as Andy starts pumping up into her.

Her sweet moans. Andy could listen to her moans all day. Laurie was never loud or pornographic like this. Not by a long shot. He watches her ass bounce on his lap as she licks and nips as his ear. The clapping and slushing sounds of their juices makes music to YN’s ears.

“My dirty little slut so fucking wet for me”

Meanwhile Laurie has just downed her second glass of bourbon while waiting for Jacob to approach. She places her glass in the sink when she hears his footsteps.

“Mom where are we going?” The young boy asks watching his mother look so far gone it looks like it’ll take her aged to return.

“Just for a drive” is all she says before she grabs the car keys walking past him and to the car. Jacob shuts and locks the door placing his hand on the car door and instantly gets this gut wrenching feeling that he needs to stay home.

“Maybe I should stay?” He asks

“Nonsense just get in” she starts the engine and Jacob takes a deep breath getting in the passenger seat. He grabs and locks his seatbelt as Laurie pulls out of the driveway pulling off. She takes an unfamiliar road of what looks like dark road. The sound of the rain was always Jacobs favorite. Only this time it dreaded him even more. The rain was heavy, loud, and unforgiving to any car that would step forth on the slippery slope with a daring intention to overcome it.

“Jacob I’m going to ask you one question and I need you to answer honestly” oh no. Jacob knew this question all too well “did you kill Ben?”

“Mom I already told you no” that wasn’t the answer Laurie had damn near given up her marriage for and she knew it wasn’t the truth. She just couldn’t shake this feeling that he was lying. Before she knows it she starts speeding up to 30 miles an hour when the speed limit is 35 but of course driving slow in this nasty weather is imperative but she didn’t care. It was imperative for Jacob to tell her the truth and she was convinced he wasn’t doing that.

“Jacob I’m being very serious tell me the truth”

“I am mom slow down” he pleads with her trying to understand why he isn’t believing her. Her foot presses on the gas even more going 45 miles an hour He goes on his Apple Watch sending a quick text to his father praying to God he answers immediately.

Andy’s wrist buzzes but he doesn’t even bother looking at it as YN whimpers his name. Her hands shake as they try to find something to grab onto. Andy grabs her arms wrapping them behind her back as he holds her waist down thrusting upward hitting her sensitive g-spot making she cries out and squeeze his thick hands. The black hole soon to swallow the two up at the same time.

By this time Laurie is screaming at Jacob and has reached 70 miles an hour down the long road. Jacob pull on his seatbelt which locked for his protection. “Jacob I know you did. Your father may believe your lies but I don’t. You’re just like him. He lies to me and says he’s doing work and I just know he’s screwing someone else” Laurie is fed up. Tears pool both of their faces. Hers in despair and Jacobs in fear. She reaches 90. Jacob has been trying to call Andy and to no avail, no answer. He’s weighed all the possible outcomes of throwing himself out the car but with his locked seatbelt it won’t work.

“Jacob tell me the truth” before he can answer she presses on the gas going to 100. His chest is tight and Jacob has a feeling he’s going to die.

YN’s legs shake as Andy keeps drilling into her relentlessly wanting to make the biggest mess of her. “Neal can’t have you. No one can have you your mine. Fuck this tight pussy is gonna make me fill you up”

“Andy I’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me darling” As the pair reach their climax grasping onto each other for dear life Laurie reaches hers screaming at Jacob continuing to incline the accelerator as he continues calling his father on his apple watch. The teary eyed boy sees that the speedometer has reached 104 Mph and all attempts to try to stop his manic mother have faded. He silently prays as she yells one final statement “I know you did it”

Andy clutches YN’s quaking body as she whines taking the thrusts of his dick with no other option. The duo moans out loudly just as Laurie and Jacob scream before black consumes the both of them. She crashed the car head first into the side of a brick tunnel.

YN looks at Andy who has a small smile on his face. His hands unwrap from her lower back where he held her in place and she looks at his Apple Watch seeing the 7 missed calls from Jacob and one text reading: “mom losing shit”. YN glances at the time displaying 1:22am. Why is Jacob awake and why did he call 7 times.

“Andy you need to go. Jacob called you 7 times” his eyes go wide as the brown skinned mistress pulls herself off of his deflating member as he tries calling Jacob back. It goes straight to voicemail. Andy can’t think of anything but the worst.

#andy barber smut #andy barber #defending jacob #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans gif #chris evans imagine #andy barber imagine

155 notes · View notes

lizbotw · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! can I ask for some shouto headcanons with a s/o who has frequent nightmares? ty! ily

Todoroki With a S/O That Has Frequent Nightmares

hi! wow, i really loved this request and enjoyed writing it! once again, it's a bit on the longer side and more scenario-like than just plain headcanons, so i hope you like it! tysm, ilyt!!! ♡

Todoroki Shouto

Everyone knows school is just plain hard and going to the top hero school in the nation meant things were… less than easy for you and your classmates.

All-nighters were common, especially now that everyone was living in the dorms together and were up to antics at all hours of the night, even despite the scolding of Iida (Aizawa admitted he couldn't care less what the class did as long as they kept it down and didn't cause too much trouble—just don’t interrupt his sleep and everything is all good).

It’s not like it was unusual for someone to complain offhandedly about being tired one day, or for your classmates to be spotted with eye bags, so no one ever thought to point out the sleepy look you seem to sport regularly from being kept up all night.

Everyone was basically kept up later than intended one way or another, whether it be finishing an assignment last minute or staying up to finish a movie, so they sympathized with your plight, assuming that it was similar to their own—but what they didn’t know was that the reason you were up was much different than any of their reasons.

While they slept peacefully only a few floors away from you, or sometimes even a few doors down the hallway, you were plagued by dark images, the type that twisted around in your mind, growing in ferocity and coiling around your heart with sticky, inky blackness so tightly that you felt as though you couldn’t breathe—any attempts against them that you took seemed futile and you always woke up gasping for air, a cold sweat breaking out across your forehead as your chest heaved, heavy with emotion.

You'd gotten used to hiding it, having been dealing with them for quite a while now, and while you eventually learned to brush them off due to their frequency, in the dead of the night, whenever they struck you, you felt as powerless and hopeless as the very first time they arrived.

It was only in the light of day that you were able to be reasonable with yourself and in which the fears lost most of their power (they were never completely gone though, the thoughts lingering in the back of your mind and causing you to mull over them whenever there was a dull moment in class and your attention started to drift).

Perhaps it's because you had these nightmares that you made the most of the energy you had during the day, fighting in your own way in the light to prove that you were still powerful, even if you were stripped of that power every night.

You'd adapted to running on only a few hours of sleep and tried to take short naps throughout the day to make up for lost time (although it was still hard after particularly difficult nights where you got almost zero relief from the terrifying images), so by the time life in U.A. came about, you were able to tough it out and focus on your training.

Speaking of training, you were vicious in class battles, taking many by surprise and were able to render several of your weaker classmates immobile in capture exercises and swept them off of their feet relatively quickly in one on one fights, including a certain “IcyHot” boy (although the way in which you swept him off his feet was much different—it was hard to beat him in normal fights anyway, but when it came to matters of the heart he was forced to surrender).

Your pure power may have caught his attention at first, but it wasn’t until Shouto spoke to you more and your personality came out that he was truly faced with the fact that he was falling for you hard.

A series of mishaps and a fair share of intervention from the rest of Class 1-A later and you two were miraculously dating and even could finally rest easy—they definitely had their work cut out when it came to getting you two together, but they ultimately bit the bullet because they could not stand the mutual pining and hopeless romanticism that continuously went on between you two.

It may take a while for Shouto to realize that spending the night at each other's dorms is a romantic™ thing couples do and that he should offer that up. That would be a great alternative actually versus the current are arrangement of that whenever you come over to study during the afternoons with him (which quickly turns into night because wow, time sure flies when you're being tortured by textbooks), and once it gets late enough, he comments about what time it is and how both of you should start getting ready for bed—effectively forcing you to leave his dorm. Don't blame him—the thought just never crossed his mind.

It was actually Mina, wanting to pry in on all U.A. relationships and resident sucker for romance, that probably brought the idea to his attention.

Something about asking how you two spent time together turned interrogation when she realized he could be clueless about certain things and made it her personal mission to school him on all things romance.

And then came the question, “So, have you guys had a couple’s sleepover yet?”

“A what?”

“Mina, please stop, just leave the poor guy alone,” came Jirou’s chiding from somewhere in the background. Mina had dragged her along with her for unknown reasons, but Jirou had made it very clear that she did not want to be there, slowly distancing herself from the conversation and discreetly trying to slip away.

While Mina took up arguing with Jirou about the “necessity” of these questions and Jirou facepalming and asking Mina why she didn’t just bring Hagakure (second in command on all things romance) with her, Shouto took the chance to mull over Mina’s words.

“And what does this... ‘couple’s sleepover’ entail exactly?” he interrupted their bickering after a few moments of contemplation and being unable to come up with an answer himself.

Mina absolutely lit up at that and turned to him once again, scuffle with Jirou long forgotten. “I am so glad you asked! Well, first of all-”

“She just means spending the night at each other’s dorms,” Jirou interrupted before Mina could go off on another tangent. Shouto turned to look at Jirou now and found her boredly examining her nails before then switching to nervously clinking the ends of her earphones jacks together when she noticed he was watching her.

“Then why-”

Jirou interrupted him this time. “Why did she call it a ‘couple’s sleepover?’ I don’t know, why don’t you ask Mina herself?”

It only took her a fraction of a second to realize her mistake when Mina opened her mouth to unleash the lengthy explanation she had prepared and Jirou immediately cut her off again before the damage could be done.

“Actually, never mind, don’t ask her. I don’t think I have to explain the sleepover part. Just spend the night doing fun things, like playing games or watching a movie or something, I don’t know. Typical sleepover things. And the couple’s part is because… well, you’re dating aren’t you? Bam, a couple.” She did unenthusiastic jazz hands at that. “Hmm… and I guess that means the sleepover activities will be more romantic than a typical sleepover too.” She scrunched her nose at the idea, not even wanting to imagine what that sort of description would entail.

Mina was getting antsy next to her, desperate to jump into the conversation with her own input and Jirou finally seemed to notice it. “Looks like Mina wants to go-” (“What? No, I don’t-”) “So see you later, Todoroki.” She grabbed Mina’s arm with one hand and gave Shouto a small wave goodbye with her free hand—one that he returned—as she pulled Mina away. “Oh, and don’t worry too much about it,” she said over her shoulder, “It’s literally just spending some time together and you do that already, right? The only difference is that this time it’ll be overnight, so just act natural. It’s not some big fancy event despite what Mina’s name for it might suggest.” And with that the two were gone, disappearing down the hallway in a fit of distant, mumbled bickering about how Mina is no longer allowed to give unsolicited love advice and how Jirou needs to learn the ways of love to truly understand, leaving Shouto all alone with his thoughts, trying to decipher what the fuck just happened.

Truthfully, he was always sad to see you go after a day of hanging out, wishing he could spend more time with you. For some reason he thought that as soon as night came, you deserved to head back to your own dorm for a proper night’s rest. He was just being concerned for your well being, isn’t that what proper boyfriends did? He considered the idea once of what if you spent the night together?, and despite that literally addressing all of his issues from before, he still brushed off the idea because it was preposterous. Shouto, where are your thinking skills???

After a while of back and forth with himself over the wisdom Mina and Jirou had bestowed upon him, he made the decision that next time things would be different.

Another late night study session had you packing up your things once you noticed the blinking alarm clock on Shouto's desk had stuck 11 P.M., the process routine at this point and you no longer waiting for your boyfriend to end the study session himself.

You rose and starting gathering the papers sprawled across his floor into a neat stack in your arms, absentmindedly talking about the things you had to do tomorrow as you went—it was like you were just inputting some closing remarks before calling it a night and Shouto fell easily into the conversation as he slipped stray pens and highlighters back into his pencil case.

You two usually cleaned up amongst the quiet hum of your words—discussing how you felt about the upcoming test, subjects either of you needed more help on next time, and what you were looking forward to eating for breakfast in the morning—but this night had Shouto's eyes straying away from the mess at his feet to you. Your back was to him most of the time, but even when you were facing him as you gathered up your books, your attention was focused on said objects, rather than him.

You guys didn't look at each other much as you cleaned, he realized—it was an obvious observation, but he still had the thought as he watched you, taking note of how this was just the perfect chance to admire you.

When you turned to him at one point though, gaze piercing, he quickly averted his eyes, shifting them to a highlighter that lay in front of him in your general direction, reaching to pick up. He ran his thumb over the smooth, bright yellow cylinder of it as you walked over to him, crouched down, hands planted on his shoulders, and leaned in to brush your lips against his. His eyes fluttered close and he leaned into the kiss, pushing back against you. He moved to deepen it, about to grip onto the fabric of your shirt for leverage, the highlighter rolling out of his grip, but the kiss was over in a matter of seconds and he opened his eyes, finding your smiling face right in front of him. You gave him a brief kiss on his cheek, as though to sign it off, and he had to admit that the heat of your face against his felt nice.

“Night, babe,” you said as you got up and turned to walk over to your bag that lay by the door.

“Night…” Right, that was just one of your normal goodnight kisses. That was also part of the routine but… something about the idea that that was the last kiss of the night didn’t sit right with him.

Shouto studied you once more, tongue in cheek, as he watched you stuff the papers and books you had gathered up back into your bag. The contemplative look never left his eye—it seemed as though you hadn’t noticed his staring from earlier so he was a bit more bold and confident about doing it now—and he almost lost himself to a trance of watching your methodical movements of picking something up from the pile of books you had lain at your feet and slipping them into the bag one by one.

When you slung the bag over your shoulder and moved towards the door, turning back to give him a final wave goodbye, he stiffened, remembering his plan.

“Wait-” He scrambled to his feet as you watched him in confusion, hand already on the doorknob. “Um… do you want to stay the night?” He flinched internally at the unsureness in his voice and straightened up, crossing his arms to create some semblance of nonchalance. “I mean, only if you want to. We don’t have to keep studying. I have a… movie? If you want to watch that together?”

Shouto’s eyes carefully tracked your movements, trying to gauge your reaction.

You tilted your head in bewilderment at the sudden offer, but then you grinned brightly and dropped your bag back at your feet, it landing on the ground with a thud from all of the heavy books inside. “Okay,” you beamed and Shouto was sure he was about to faint.

He followed Jirou’s advice to a T, or at least he tried to. He meant to ask if you wanted to play Monopoly but Kaminari had stolen it from the dorm’s game closet and refused to hand it over because his plans for the night included kicking Sero’s, Kirishima’s, and Bakugou’s asses at the game (Mina was there to be the unbiased banker because the boys were so sure that one of them kept stealing money out of the bank whenever no one was looking and Jirou was just there to bask in the chaos that was sure to ensure—when Mina and Jirou caught sight of Shouto, they both gave him a knowing look).

The loss of the Monopoly board meant you two instead played with the dingy Uno card deck Shouto found buried in his school supply drawer (he was pretty sure it was Midoriya’s and in his mind sent him a silent thank you—as for if he was going to give the desk back or continue “borrowing” it… well, that depended on how much you enjoyed playing with him).

You won three times in a row, but also Shouto seemed to keep getting distracted by something (spoiler alert: it was your smile) and you realized he wasn’t even playing his best cards most of the time so you easily crushed him. You clapped your hands in celebration at every victory and Shouto noticeably increased his speed while shuffling the deck whenever you did that (oh yeah, he was definitely keeping these, sorry, Deku).

You two eventually got around to watching the movie he had brought up before on his laptop, you slotted comfortably under his arm while it hung around your shoulder, and even had a late night snack run per your request (snack run = sneaking into the kitchen and stealing the plate of hot pockets Kaminari was making to supplement his game night—better yet, you made Shouto do the stealing with him timing his crime perfectly and waiting for Kaminari’s back to be turned.)

(You supervised the whole thing by peeking around a hidden corner, barely containing your laughter, and then jumped in to distract Kaminari right when he was about to turn around before quickly taking your leave once Shouto was out of sight. Kaminari’s screams once he realized what had happened could be heard down the hallway as you two rushed back to the elevator, stolen goods secured and you laughing freely.)

(You’re pretty sure you heard Shouto mumble, “How’s that for Monopoly, you electric bitch,” and while you’re honestly not sure what he’s talking about, you support his energy nonetheless.)

Soon it was time to actually sleep and you two were curled up under his blanket, limbs tangled together. You had taken brief naps together before so this wasn’t exactly anything new (even though it was, judging by what a big deal everyone had made of it, including you two), but you found yourself appreciating once again how Shouto was the perfect person to sleep against—he regulated his body temperature exactly how you liked it and you found yourself nodding off to sleep easily in between the quiet whispers about nonsensical late night topics between you two.

The brief concern about your nightmares had completely slipped your mind at this point—you found that short naps meant that they didn’t have much time to strike and since said naps were what you were used to with him, you forgot that this was a full night ordeal. When he had first proposed the idea of a sleepover, you had thought it would be good to have someone else there to comfort you, but then felt guilty about being selfish and wondered if your reaction to the nightmares would scare him off—although you eventually pushed those thoughts to the side because no way would you turn down spending some quality time with your boyfriend, and the night of fun had led to never returning to mull over that internal conflict.

You two fell asleep at some point without even realizing it, peaceful in each other's arms—that is, until a few hours later when disaster struck because of course something just had to ruin your perfect night.

Shouto blearily blinked his eyes open, confused at the sound that reached his ears and brain slow to comprehend what exactly was going on. It took him a moment to suck in a breath to clear his mind and decipher the situation, shifting in place—that is, until his arm brushed against yours and he stilled, mind suddenly clear as it recalled the events of the last hour he had been awake. You were spending the night with him.

Carefully, he sat up, head pounding a little. He brought up a hand to rest on top of his head, fingers curling around his hair and massaging away the beginnings of a headache. And then he heard it again—the sound that had woken him up. A quiet whimper maybe?

He was back to being confused, except now his eyes were darting around the room suspiciously, ready to go on the defensive, especially because you were next to him. U.A. had a proper security system, didn't it? He shouldn't be worried. Although, then again, his mind kept returning to those thoughts of uncertainty and how villains had been able to endanger his classmates time and time again recently.

The shuffling of blankets and a sharp intake of breath had him refocused within a second and he looked down at you. Eyes now adjusted to the darkness, he could make out your face against the backdrop of his pillow, your features twisted into a troubled expression, teeth pulling on your bottom lip. Your hands gripped the blanket in a tight fist, your arms shaking a little.

You continued squirming under the blanket until you eventually kicked most of it off of you, almost as if there was someone there that you meant to hit. Your mouth curled into a silent scream, ragged breaths coming out in huffs as your chest rapidly rose and fell. He could tell you were mumbling now, voice low enough that he couldn't exactly make out what was being said—the syllables coming out in quick bursts and half formed as your focus seemed to jump from topic to topic, each of them bringing you increasing distress.

Shouto had been watching you in horrid fascination, unable to take his eyes off of you as much as his mind screamed at his body to just fucking move, but when a sliver of moonlight coming in from his window—peeking out from behind a gap in the drapes he hadn’t pulled together close enough—caught the glint of tears brimming your eyes, he was quick to react, gripping your upper arm and, as gently as he could while still being firm, shook you. "(Y/N)!" he hissed, not wanting to startle you, "Wake up, please. What's wrong?"

It took a few tries—him wanting to snap you back to consciousness right away, but also afraid of hurting you or making things worse—but before a minute had passed you were coming back to reality, forcing your eyes open as you realized the images plaguing you hadn't been real. You sat up quickly, almost bumping your head against Shouto's (not that you even noticed he was there), your breaths coming hard and fast.

You completely forgot where you were for a moment, just focusing on calming down, and it wasn't until Shouto managed a quiet, "(Y/N)?," concern clearly lacing his voice, that you whipped your head around to face him.

And then your eyes slowly traveled around the rest of the room, recalling where you were. If he hadn't been there, the unfamiliar environment probably would have made you feel alarmed when you came to and make you start wondering if you were stuck in another nightmare again.

You heard Shouto clear his throat as he looked at you curiously, and your eyes snapped back to him. Just the sight of him had your eyes watering and before you knew it, you had flung yourself into his chest, fingers finding purchase in the loose fabric of his shirt.

He easily managed to steady you two from the momentum of you crashing into him and wrapped his strong arms around you, squeezing you to him as you sobbed into his chest.

It would take a little while for him to calm you down and although he was incredibly concerned, he made sure to be the rock you needed and let you take all the time in the world to stabilize yourself.

You would probably be a little embarrassed to tell him about your dream, especially now that you were more lucid, and may even start apologizing for your behavior earlier until he cuts you off because you had every right to react as you did.

After a bit of coaxing, along with you realizing you felt comfortable around him and that you shouldn't worry about him judging you for something as trivial as this, you opened up and told Shouto about your frequent nightmares. He would play with your hands as you talked to let you know it was okay and a silent kiss—soft lips against yours—would confirm that he loved you no matter what.

Shouto wouldn’t mind staying up late into the early hours of the morning with you if you wanted to talk about what you had experienced and may even suggest that you two sneak down to the dorm kitchen and get something to eat and drink (now that was fun—teasing him by pretending to be on a spy mission and forcing him to glance around all of the corners with you, as though you were suspicious about someone catching you? absolutely gold).

Just laying together and talking because you didn’t want to go to sleep would be fine with him, even if you insisted that he should get some rest. He didn’t want you to feel bad about the situation or think that you were a burden, so he did his best to take your mind off of it.

If you wanted to stay up longer, you might watch another movie or even play a few more rounds of Uno (Kaminari, the bastard, still had Monopoly locked in his room for some reason and hadn’t returned it to the game closet—now not to say that Shouto considered leaving an anonymous tip to Iida about the blonde breaking the unwritten rules of the dorm by not returning the game as soon as he was done with it but… yeah, he definitely considered it).

Expect sleepovers to become a lot more common between you two from then on, especially after you admitted that having Shouto there made things a lot more bearable. Whether it be in your dorm or his, both of you were always open to falling asleep in each other's arms whenever the other person asked.

At your next late night hang out session, you two even played Monopoly!

(Shouto had frozen Kaminari’s feet to the ground when he saw him running towards the game closet to snag the game again, and then calmly walked off with his prize after plucking it from the shelf while Kamianri wailed in distress and tried to unstick his feet and pull them free. Shouto couldn’t help but crack a small grin to himself in victory as he walked away.)

Per your request, you two invited some of the other students to play Monopoly because it was always fun with more people (for some reason, Shouto expressly stated that Kaminari was not to be invited and while you were confused, you just shrugged and agreed, even when you heard him say something about forcing the blonde go through “Monopoly withdrawal” as a punishment—you decided not to question him on that point), and a few of those who didn’t want to play just came to watch as well.

(Midoriya was one of those who came to play and while he was glancing around the room, his eyes landed on Shouto’s desk and he squinted in confusion, scrutinizing the little deck he saw tucked in the corner.)

(“Hey, Todoroki, are those my Uno car-”)

(“Nope. Oh look, you just landed on Boardwalk and Uraraka has a hotel there. You only have $200, right?”)

(“Wha- oh, fu-”)

Shouto had to deal with his fair share of nightmares as a child and if you ever want to talk about what the latest disturbing image that had haunted you was, he’ll always be available. In turn, he feels ready to open up about his own fears to you, all while soothing away yours. Talking with him feels natural, just like anything else involving him, and not keeping everything bottled up has definitely helped you more, causing your performance both in class and out in the battlefield to improve.

Your chest definitely feels a lot lighter these days and your dark circles seem to be fading. You probably owe those to your wonderful boyfriend turned portable heater (what? he’s perfect for when you want to take naps and now that he knows about your nightmares during the night, you no longer have to explain to him why you like to sleep so frequently during the day).

Shouto is nothing short of supportive and if there’s anything you ever need to ease the nightmares and lull you off to sleep—whether it be him buying you a diffuser you saw online, getting you a custom sleeping mask, or just you needing him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear and pepper kisses along your temple to help you fall back asleep after being jolted awake again—he’s always there to provide it.

393 notes · View notes

spxllcxstxr · 4 years ago

Text

Crushing (on) the Competition • L.E

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi! Sorry, can I request for Lily Evans? Just something that involves reader and Lily having friendly competition when it comes to studies, but Lily knows that reader has a crush on her but she waits for reader to finally admit it to her. — anon

Summary: Studying for hours in the library can lead to some strange dreams about one of your competitors.

Warnings: Gets a bit suggestive towards the end, school, homework, exams, a paragraph about Snape, glass breaking

Word Count: 1.6k

A.N: We can all agree that Karen looks absolutely stunning in this gif, right? Inspiration hit and this blurb became a fic. And I absolutely enjoy it. Hopefully it’s all good it became a bit suggestive, it really just came out that way without me planning it like that lmao. Hope you all enjoy! Love you all ❤️

****

The competition in your year was getting out of hand, in your opinion. There were four particular students, you included, vying for the top spot in every available class, but recently that seemed like an unobtainable goal. The four of you were equally matched as rivals, constantly battling each other for the top position, but never staying there long enough to boast and brag to your peers.

Hamish Stebbins, a Ravenclaw with pristine horn rimmed glasses and one of the most massive superiority complexes you’ve ever witnessed, was a force to be reckoned with, especially since he could bang out an O worthy essay of any length an hour before it’s due in class. And he made a living off of it. For the right price, a perfect score in any class of your choosing could be yours with that massive brain of his.

Severus Snape, while it pains you to admit it, was so effortlessly intelligent to the point where he was extremely smug about it. He took his time, carefully crafting out each word of an essay and never took short cuts on his assignments. Unlike Stebbins, however, his knowledge was his own, meaning not even Slughorn could force him to help another student with some measly little problem if it meant he had to impart some of his sacred knowledge.

Then there was Lily Evans. She poured her heart and soul into each assignment and it always paid off for her. But she wasn’t like the other two. Lily never bragged about her perfect grades or rubbed it in your face like Stebbins and Snape. She always went out of her way to help other students, for free, of course. Lily was willing to spend hours in the library explaining concept after concept to anybody who needed assistance. That was just the way she was.

And to be completely honest, you wouldn’t even be in the running for top of your year if it wasn’t for Lily and her persistent kindness.

Ever since you met in first year, the two of you held long study sessions in the library, pouring over textbooks until the text became fuzzy and your vision swam about. She often helped you understand lectures and pointed out how to decipher essay prompts. Luckily, you’re a quick learner so with her aid you were able to beat out most of the other students in your year.

The study sessions between the two of you still occur, but they’ve been shoved off to the side recently because of the heavy workload you each have to endure. The final two years of Hogwarts were the most crucial years of your life and you weren’t going to screw it all up now.

Plus, ever since she squeezed you into a bone crushing hug right before your final O.W.L. exam in fifth year, you can’t seem to form a sentence or even think straight around her anymore.

Your eyes always avoided her piercing green ones, instead focusing on how awkwardly your feet shuffled around in your black Mary Jane shoes against the stone flooring.

Many of those times where she would skip over to you unexpectedly, you would end up flinging your wand across the room or spilling your entirely new ink pot all over your fresh ream of parchment. She would always giggle and offer to help you clean your mess up, and you could never actually choke out a coherent thought before making a mad dash towards the exit.

So to save yourself from the embarrassment, you always wind up studying alone in the library well into the night.

So that’s where you find yourself well into Sunday evening, in the back corner of the library obscured by mountains of Transfiguration books, studying for the next day’s exam.

The four of you were equally skilled in the subject, meaning if wanted to be on top, you needed to work for it more than usual.

Your corner is dark and dusty, the only light being from the flickering lamps you lit and placed haphazardly around the oak table. They cast an eerie orange glow across the paper, almost dreamlike.

The handwritten black ink text starts to jumble together at around nine, which makes complete sense considering you’ve been holed up in this one spot since classes ended hours ago.

Your legs and your butt had gone numb hours ago, making your old rickety wooden chair seem comfortable.

Eyelids droop considerably, the weight almost becoming unbearable, just like how your head starts to slide away from your palm. The text starts to shift, and in your tired haze you distantly wonder when you started studying ancient runes.

You’re able to get out one meek yawn before your heavy head slips down to your textbook pillow and your vision cuts to a comforting black.

A delicate hand rests on your shoulder, trying to shake you awake.

In your dreamlike state, you blearily open your eyes and glance at the hand. It’s pale and freckled with light pink nail polish that looks fresh considering each nail is still in pristine condition. If they were yours, you would’ve bitten through it all already.

“(Y/n)?” The voice is soft and hushed. “Sweetheart, you gotta wake up, it’s past curfew.”

Your eyes trail up their robe covered arm and finally rest on their face. It takes you a moment to fully register the galaxy of freckles adorning their face and those green eyes that always made you fidget. She’s stunning in her Gryffindor robes, she always is in your dreams, her top two buttons are popped.

“Lily?” You mumble, still attempting to will yourself less tired. Yawning, you pick your head up.

“Did you spend all this time studying, sweetheart?” Lily continues, the hand on your shoulder trailing up to your jaw.

Sweetheart was the nickname Lily always used in your dreams and each time she addressed you, your stomach erupted in butterflies and your heart began to skip beats.

You hum and nod in response.

She pouts, her pink lips plump and vibrant. Swiftly, she moves a few of your books so she can prop herself up on the table while still looking at you.

Her grey pleated uniform skirt rides up her thigh a tad, exposing her soft and pale skin.

You swallow, eyes wide. “Merlin Lils, the things you do t’me.”

“And what, do tell (Y/n), do I do to you, exactly?” Her green eyes are wide and doe like, playful feigned innocence drenching her gentle features.

The particles of dust float aimlessly by, glowing like balls of light due to the lanterns you still have surrounding you.

She’s towering over your seated body, thumb swiping across your bottom lip.

Your dream was in a whole ‘nother territory now.

“Lily, I’ve fancied you since bloody fifth year! You can’t just—“ You sputter, heart pounding wildly in your chest. “We’ve got an exam—!”

She giggles, the lovely sound filling up the library.

“Oh, I’ve known about your crush for some time now, (Y/n).”

Breath catches in your throat. “Oh.”

Once again, Lily giggles. She pushes herself back against the table, skirt being pushed up even more, the stack of books behind her tipping, the lantern on top of them falling, falling, falling...

The shattering of glass makes you jolt up from your seat, the piercing sound waking you up as you tear your gaze away from Lily.

“Shit!” She curses. “Shit, I’m sorry, (Y/n).”

As she turns to wave away the mess, it suddenly occurs to you that you may not be dreaming after all. While her back’s turned, you pinch yourself hard, stifling your yelp behind your other hand.

A dreadful chill shoots down your spine causing your body to freeze.

You weren’t dreaming.

“Oh fuck.”

Quickly, your hands shoot up to your head, fingers grasping at your hair in disbelief and embarrassment.

Lily turns back to face you, eyebrows drawn together in concern, the glass gone.

“Are you alright? Did a shard get you—?”

“This—this wasn’t a dream.” You shakily state, staring at her.

“Do you frequently dream of me?” She raises an eyebrow, still stepping closer to your form.

“Yes!” You cry, before dropping your voice down, remembering that you are out after curfew even if Prefect Lily was with you. “That’s why I thought—I thought—“

“You only confessed because you thought it was a dream.” Lily interjects calmly in realization.

“Merlin, I’m so sorry!” You groan, gaping at your own stupidity.

“No! No, don’t be sorry, (Y/n)!” Her smile lights up her face once again as she moves her hands to cover your own. “I wanted to hear you admit your crush on me so I could...confess in return.” She bites her lip shyly.

“You—you like me?” You mutter, stomach doing complete flips.

“It was fifth year for me, too.” Lily confesses. “Something about seeing you all stressed out while studying and us huddling over a paragraph in the candlelight...” She trails off.

“Well that’s grand!” You laugh. “Absolutely ace!”

“Well c’mon then, sweetheart, let’s get you up to the dorms.” Lily chuckles as your rejoice.

“But the exam is tomorrow, Lily—“

“Tomorrow after lunch, (Y/n). You need your sleep if you wanna take down Snape and Stebbins.” Lily teases, helping you pack away your things into your leather bag.

“And if I want to take down you as well?” You ask, shoving books away and collecting your notes.

“Well,” She starts, shooting you a wink. “just ask me nicely.”

She laughs at your audible gulp before taking your hand and dragging you up to her own dorm.

•

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

#Lily Evans #lily evans x reader #lily evans imagine #lily evans fluff #the marauders x reader #lily evans fanfiction

96 notes · View notes

gryffindors-weasley · 4 years ago

Text

Finding A Light // Part Two

Ron Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: A simple afternoon in Hogsmeade leads to the start of a tradition.

Warnings: fluff, mild angst

Part one

Ron found himself struggling to keep his focus on his portion of teaching throughout the week, and it was beginning to become apparent that his mind was elsewhere.

“Mr. Weasley?” A student had asked for what would be the third time now, and she had started to wave her hand in front of his face.

Startled, he looked up from the parchment he scribbled on with his quill that had long since run out of ink. He offered a smile to the confused girl, cheeks burning as Lupin laughed next to him. He sat up a little straighter, clearing his throat. “My apologies, Alice. Can I—can I help you with something?”

She looks at the blushing redhead quizzically before offering a polite smile. “Will there be extra credit available?”

The question made him smile, the eager young student always looking for ways to better her grade even though it doesn’t seem like it could get any higher than a perfect score. Such a quality had reminded him very much of Hermione.

“I suppose I’ll have to think of something,” he says, though there couldn’t possibly be anything new to think of without spoiling future lessons.

She accepts his answer with a nod, though her shoulders do slump in a bit of disappointment as she walks back to her seat. Lupin is still grinning knowingly at him when he looks over, a sigh leaving his lips.

“You wouldn’t happen to be so distracted over this girl you’ve met, would you?” He asks, and though Ron hasn’t said anything yet, the pale crimson that colors his cheeks almost immediately in response is enough to know he’d hit the nail on the head.

“Who told you that?” Ron asks, plucking at the quill in his hand as he raises his brow. He still tries to play it off even though he knows his cover has been blown.

“I do have a keen sense of hearing, you know,” he laughs, “I heard you at dinner last week. You’re not very discreet with your emotions, Weasley.”

He nods down at his hands, sighing as he bites back his growing smile. “I’m convinced you and McGonagall love to torment me.”

He laughed again, nodding at Ron’s words. “It’s only our job. And it’s one you make very easy for us.”

“It’s absolutely not,” Ron says, trying to remain stoic but he couldn’t find it in him to stifle his own laughter. “I swear you two are making up for my family’s lack of teasing.”

—

Ron found himself wandering the familiar stone pathway to the very shop he’d spent the better part of a week thinking about, though the whole time he’d wondered if this was ridiculous. Had you really hoped to see him again? Or was he blowing it out of proportion by mistaking a friendly gesture for that of an invitation to return. He wasn’t really sure of himself the more he ran that humiliating scenario through his head.

His feet seemed to have given him no choice in the matter as he continued to navigate the familiar village, brushing by clusters of students who argued about where to go next. It wasn’t that big of a deal, he thought. If you didn’t recognize him then he could just leave and put it all behind him. But if you did, he could just say he was buying chocolates to send home, if only to not make it completely obvious that the reasons for his visit entirely were to see you.

When the dark wood trim and pink sign came into view he wasn’t sure if his arrival came too soon or not soon enough as he shook out his hands. He felt ridiculous with the way his heart beat out of his chest, or the nerves swirling around in his stomach. First impressions had already been made, no matter how foolish and flustered, so there was no reason to be so nervous. But his heart and his brain were not quite on the same page.

The sweet air of the small shop hit him in a wave the moment he opened the door, a handful of third years rushing past him which inevitably caused him to stumble back a step. The excitement seems to have not worn off just yet. His eyes immediately went to the front counter where you’d said your goodbyes the week before, but he was rather disappointed when it wasn’t you who was there. He didn’t let it deter him, though, instead stepping further into the shop to have a look at the candies.

Despite such a small stretch of time having gone by since he was last there, it seemed as though their inventory was completely different. They still had their best sellers on brilliant and eye catching displays, still had large glass jars filled to the brim with colorful candy, but there were far more new things than he had remembered there being. Even with that being said, he was still more focused on the fact that he hadn’t seen you yet and it’d been a whole ten minutes of wandering around aimlessly, surely looking a bit out of place.

Three aisles in and he still hadn’t seen you. He was fighting the urge to ask where you were, feeling as though that’d be a ridiculous thing to do. Because what was he to say if asked for a reason? Surely he couldn’t give them the real one, that would be utterly humiliating. He was beginning to think he misread your words as he weaved between students, regret forming in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he’d have better luck another time, though he didn’t like the idea of waiting for when that would be.

Upon passing the counter again, his brain scrambled for a reason not to, fighting between his own curiosity and the side of him telling himself not to do it and just leave. But he’s quickly made up his mind.

“Excuse me,” he says, clearing his throat when his words came out rather timidly. He takes a step closer when he captures the cashiers attention. “Would you happen to know where Y/n is?”

Any trace of hopefulness had left when he heard the mans response. “I’m afraid not, her shift ended sometime within the last hour. Would you like me to leave her a message?”

Ron was quick to shake his head, masking the clear disappointment he felt with a smile. “No…no that’s okay. Thank you.”

He left the shop empty handed and stuffed them in his pockets, releasing the sigh he’d been holding. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal, really, he’d only met you once. On a busy day at that. But it was something about the way your brief interaction had stopped time for lack of better wording. He knew it was rather silly to feel that way, but it’s what made him come back.

As his mother had always said, if it was meant to happen it would have. With that in mind he tried to brush it off and focus on other matters, like the stack of assignments that needed grading once he returned. It wasn’t something he looked forward to, trying to stall and walk as leisurely as he could through the busy village.

He couldn’t imagine reading dozens of those things being any more fun than it was to write them, and if he gave it any more thought he would completely ruin his mood. He certainly wasn’t as happy as the students around him though he knows he’s probably being a bit dramatic. But this very place wasn’t feeling quite so magical, for lack of a better, less ironic word. Everything seemed to bother him in that moment; the way the wind blew his hair in his eyes, the fact that he kept tripping on the uneven stone streets, the way that—

“Ron?”

He looked up from his gaze at his feet, turning in the direction the voice had come from. His heart skipped a beat upon seeing it belonged to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when you joined him and he quickly forgot those things annoying him.

“Hey,” he nearly beams, and suddenly the thought of his mother’s wise words didn’t make him feel quite so bad anymore.

“I’m sorry to have left you hanging, I finished my shift half an hour ago and decided to stick around here in case maybe you did turn up,” you shrug, nonchalant in your explanation as you walk up to him.

His smile widened as he raised a curious brow at you, his nerves beginning to disappear and be replaced with some confidence. “So you waited for me?”

You flushed a soft pink at his words, looking up at him with a laugh. “Perhaps. Only because you decided to come back.”

It was his turn to blush a shade of crimson at your witty remark, smiling down at his feet as you accentuated your teasing with a nudge of your elbow to his arm. It was true, and though he’d never admit it aloud, it seems as though he didn’t have to.

“Would you like to join me for tea? I always stop by Madam Puddifoot’s after my weekend shifts. She’s quite fond of me so I bet I can get you a free pastry if you’d like.” Your words were followed by the warmest of smiles, and he found himself unable to resist such an offer.

“Yeah…yeah that’d be nice,” he says with a soft laugh, a bit stunned and more so when you grabbed his wrist and tugged him towards the shop.

As a testament to your words, you were greeted warmly by the older woman who recited what he assumed was your order. When she turned to him he was at a loss for words, cheeks reddening once more before you asked for another of what you’d gotten.

“Thanks,” he smiles, taking a seat across from you at a nearby table. “I’ve never been here before, my friend told me it was a bit…sappy.”

“Oh it very much is, but she can make a very good cup of tea.”

He nods with a laugh, any worry that he may have said something too bold about this place you seemed to love now dissipating.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself immersed in conversation, finding it rather easy to talk to him about anything and everything. Any pause in conversation had been very brief and quickly filled with something else, a dull moment never finding its way between the two of you. Tea cups had long since been empty and several students had filtered in and out of the shop while the two of you remained at the same table, blissfully unaware of the fact that you were quickly becoming the only two residing in the place. It didn’t seem to matter all that much, nor did that stack of essays collecting dust on his desk. Those could wait another day.

4 Months Later

Spending every Saturday afternoon at Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop was quickly adopted as a tradition between the two of you should your schedules allow it. Over that expanse of time you learned about Ron’s wonderfully large family, and unfortunately the loss of a beloved member of it. You’ve learned he has an affinity for quidditch, well, maybe more than an affinity because he spent a very lengthy amount of time talking about it until he shut himself up. And perhaps your favorite part was experiencing firsthand his ever growing hatred for spiders. It was a memory you never let him forget, the way his voice adopted a higher pitch as he put a good ten feet between himself and the small spider until you had taken care of the problem. You’d made a promise to yourself to never let him live it down.

But in spite of the humor, you found yourself thinking that your time spent with him was quite possibly the most fun you’ve ever had. Not that Ron Weasley had been one to walk on the wild side, but everything that seemed mundane before became much more interesting when he was involved.

Over the course of that time, Ron had learned your hobbies and just as easily the things you don’t like. He learned you can fill up your cup of tea as if it’d never been drank with just a simple motion of your hand which is something you inevitably taught him to do. It lead to him overflowing his mug and spilling his tea on his lap, something you also aim to never let him forget. And he doesn’t know how, but you can change the color of just about anything you please, though you tried it on his hair and it hadn’t quite worked out so well. He felt like Tonks as he stood in the middle of your apartment with purple hair as you laughed hysterically.

However, to get sentimental, he quickly found you to be the one thing to bring out a smile when he finds himself falling back to the memories of his losses. It didn’t take much effort on your end, your presence would always suffice. And above all the countless things he’s learned about you, perhaps this next one was the most prominent. Ron Weasley accepted the fact that he was falling in love with his best friend. It wasn’t unexpected, he felt as though maybe he’d always had some form of feelings since day one. But he found it much more intense than those days, though he’d never admit it, not for a long while.

Currently, you found yourselves tucked away in the cozy little building as the rain poured outside, decorated floor to ceiling in Valentine’s Day related things. Even though it was just about a month before the actual day, there was no stopping Madam Puddifoot from indulging in her favorite holiday. Walls were decorated in enchanted red Cupid’s that shot glitter and confetti from their arrows, frilly heart covered tablecloths and lacy napkins, and even pink and red frosted pastries. Ron was beginning to understand why Harry hadn’t liked this place so much.

But it was weekly tradition, and nothing could deter him from coming here with you, not even the heart shaped cookies or the pink confetti stuck annoyingly in his hair.

“What can I get you today?” Madam asked, her notepad in hand though she really hadn’t used it very much. Not for the two of you at least.

“Peppermint tea with two sugars,” Ron says without hesitation. When he’s met with silence he lifts his head from the dessert menu, finding two sets of eyes on him.

It wasn’t until then that he realized he blurted your order, having known it like the back of his hand by this point. It wasn’t until then that he realized her question was directed at you first. His cheeks redden to what felt like the same shade as the table cloth, and he found himself wishing he could rewind and not have done that very embarrassing thing.

“Sorry,” He says, laughing awkwardly as he gulps. Though he’s only met with your sweet smile and a soft laugh from Madam who shook her head fondly at the two of you.

“And what can I get you, Mr. Weasley?”

“I’ll have a Yorkshire tea with extra sugar, please,” He says, much more timid, “and can I have a slice of cake if you’ve got any left?”

“Of course, my dear,” she smiles warmly. There would always be a slice waiting for him because she always made extra in preparation for the ginger boy’s weekly visit.

“Are you blushing?” You jest, chin in your hand as you squint at him from across the wobbly table when she rushes off.

“It’s just, you know…cold outside,” he defends, doing a terrible job of being convincing.

“We’ve been in here for nearly half an hour, Ronald. I’d hate to say it, but I know you’re lying,” you laugh and he looks to his side with a scoff, biting the inside of his cheek as if to will away any more color attempting to flood his cheeks just at the mere mention of it.

“You’re a pain sometimes, you know that?” He says though he smiles rather fondly at you.

“It happens to be my specialty,” you say, eyes skimming over the various holiday themed drink names on the lavishly printed menu. He steals another glance through his light ginger lashes, not missing the way a soft smile had been gracing your lips at the banter.

He shakes his head, laughing quietly to himself as he picks at his napkin. Was it really that evident how much of a mess you made him? He really hoped not.

Not much was said after that, yet the silence was comfortable. He watched as the rain poured outside, thick droplets trickling down the window panes and puddles forming in the uneven walkway. As much as he didn’t enjoy this kind of weather, it really had added to the ambience of this place. It made it all the more welcoming.

“I think we’ve got to apparate home if it doesn’t slow down out there,” he suggests, turning to you.

A frown immediately worked its way on your face at the thought. You hated apparating and he knew that, you could never quite get used to it’s side effects.

“That might just be your worst idea, Ron,” you say, huffing out at the thought. He laughs though, bringing a smile to your face.

The moment is quickly interrupted when two teas are brought to the table and given to their rightful owners, Ron’s highly anticipated cake set along with his. Triple chocolate cake.

“Will I be using the couples discount for you two?” The jovial woman asks with a smile, tucking her pink pencil behind her ear as she settles her hands on her hips.

“Oh! It’s not a date, well, not like that,” Ron says, cheeks burning as he laughed softly, clearly flustered the more he spoke, “we’re just friends.”

Madam Puddifoot apologizes for her blunder, though she still gives you both the discount regardless because she’s seen the way he looks at you. Over the many weeks she’s served the seemingly inseparable pair, she knew friends don’t look at friends quite the way you two do. It was almost fairytale-like. But neither of you seemed to be privy to the others lingering gazes and she wasn’t one to pry, not too much anyway.

Once she left you turned to him with slightly narrowed eyes and a bit of a frown you tried to conceal, finding yourself feeling the smallest bit of hurt, or something, simmering in your stomach. You didn’t know why it had struck a nerve and you didn’t like it.

“What?” He asks softly.

“I don’t think you could have said that any faster, Ron,” you say, stirring your spoon around in your tea a bit too vigorously, the hot liquid spilling over the meticulously painted edge of the cup and onto the small matching saucer it had been resting on.

He furrows his brows, confused at your change in attitude momentarily before a soft smile began to pull at the corner of his mouth. “You seem a bit upset about that, Y/n.”

He tilts his head in amused curiosity, watching as you rolled your eyes before he took a sip of his drink.

“I don’t believe I seem like anything.”

Your tone was playful as you spoke the words very matter-of-factly, though he didn’t miss the bite lacing around them. He only nods as he laughs quietly down at his own tea, not in mocking but in slight amusement.

Your soft smile shortly returned though Ron wondered if your sudden edge, no matter how subtle, was simply nothing or if it was indicative of something more. Perhaps it really did bother you, more than you let on. But he knows that if he lets his mind go down the road of those possibilities, he will only either get his hopes up or hurt his own feelings with scenarios that haven’t even happened. So, for the time being, he pushes it to the back of his mind and hoped it wouldn’t resurface.

“Have you uh, have you checked if that book store in town is open today? You said you wanted to go,” he says, trying desperately to find his way back to comfortable conversation.

“They’re closed,” you say, and he almost winced at the change in your tone whether you had meant to or not. No smile of yours could’ve hid that. He ignored the fact that you had mentioned earlier that they indeed were open, he knew if he paid it any more mind then he’d ruin his own day with assumptions.

He just nods, internally scolding himself as he regrets what he said moments ago.

Gaps in conversation weren’t easily filled after that, and he found he was the one starting the most of them. They really couldn’t be considered conversations at that point, more so observations and statements that you responded to before he moved on to the next one. You hadn’t particularly been ignoring him, you never would, but he knew your mood had soured even if you wouldn’t admit it.

You still teased him about the chocolate icing on the corners of his mouth because you’d never pass that opportunity up, or the way he dropped some in his lap because he’d been too focused staring, but you hadn’t stolen a bite like you usually had and you politely turned down his offer of some.

Your stay at the shop wasn’t nearly as extensive as it usually was either, your tea barely finished but you were rather joyous as you bid a goodbye to Madam Puddifoot. Of course you did still put up a fuss about apparating as you hooked your arm with Ron’s, and you did still hug him goodbye at your doorstep. It just wasn’t as tight as it usually was.

He wanted to bring it up, and he wanted to tell you he hadn’t meant it because the fact that you weren’t being your usual self was driving him crazy. But if he brought it up he’d have to tell you why exactly he hadn’t meant what he said, and he wasn’t ready for that conversation. He feels he might never be. So he decides against it as he stands just outside your door.

“See you next week?” He asks meekly when you pull away from him, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He was hoping you wouldn’t decide to ditch him after that.

You pretended to ponder the question for a moment, just to get a rise out of him. Maybe you took a few extra seconds because you were still bothered. You still couldn’t pinpoint why it had gotten under your skin so much. “I’ll see you next week, Weasley.”

Despite the bit of relief he had felt from that moment you still weren’t so cheery with him, and he tried to convince himself that maybe you’d just had a headache, you get like that sometimes when you do. Or maybe you just had a bad day to begin with and didn’t feel like hiding it anymore. He was grasping at straws to figure out a proper explanation for it but everything came circling back to his words.

He took your answer with a nod before apparating back to Hogwarts, unsure of how to perceive your tone this time. It left him to stew in his own regret that night and days to come until he saw you again.

—

Tags: @writeroutoftime

#ron weasley #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley x you #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley fic #harry potter fic

124 notes · View notes

f0xfordcomma · 3 years ago

Note

Hello!! Happy FFWF!! Is there anything in particular that you find hard to write? Are there any WIPs that you've just absolutely given up on cause you think it'll go nowhere?? (would you share a bit of it? :D)

Croisty! Happy ffw tuesday (which tbh is earlier than I thought I'd be able to do these, so be proud of me lol)

I wish I had more to go off of in my writing portfolio to answer this question, but I think the thing I have the hardest time writing/ have avoided writing in my wips is just unfettered angst or like horror/ violence. Like character death? Gore? Fight scenes? (ooooh baby I SUCK at fight scenes) all of /that/ is just not really my forte as a writer. Don't get me wrong, I am not opposed to hurting my characters, but hurt/comfort is more where its at for me. You've read my stuff, so you know how emotionally driven a lot of my writing is. I think I would have a hard time writing more graphic/ heartbreaking/ violent *stuff* in my style. Idk, it would probably be a good thing for me to practice.... but.... I don't wanna (hands on hips) sooooo I'm not planning to really do anything quite like that anytime soon.

As far as abandoned wips go, I've got plentyyyy (or just verrrrrrry dusty wips that are not quite abandoned but are sitting very patiently on the shelf waiting for me to have the time to get back to them) Violent/ angsty/ deathy/ fighty abandoned wips though? Not so much.

But for you, mon petit croissant, have a bit of a miraculous ladybug reveal fic that I wrote one night after having a little ~ouid~ and convincing my husband to put on a sheet face mask with me that I now have no intention of finishing (oops, rip me).

okaaaaayyy so this is actually pretty dang long lol but I'm going to share the whole thing with you because I just re-read it for the first time in months and its pretty funny ~if you ask me~ so anyway... under the cut <3

NIGHT OFF

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a totally crazy idea to take a night off.

Besides, Shadowmoth’s akumatizations had slowed down considerably in the past few months, and he rarely ever sent out two akumas in one day. The battle that she and Chat had fought that morning was brutal, but they’d come out victorious against HoneyBadger. Still, the fight had left her exhausted and wound up. Shadowmoth was planning something, she was sure of it. She just couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out what it was.

Ladybug was stressed.

Add to that, the fact that end-of-term exams were starting up next week and she’d not had nearly enough time during dead week to actually cram. Something about black butterflies and cranky kwamis and a cheeky cat (who, in recent weeks, had been considerably less cheeky.) Not to mention, she had been receiving an awful lot of memes, seemingly without preamble, from Paris’ favorite male model. Nino thought it was hilarious. Alya thought it was suspicious. Marinette thought it was confusing.

Marinette was stressed.

All of it was stressful.

Alya knew when her best friend was stressed. She could usually gauge the amount of Marinette’s exasperation by the frequency with which her bangs went flying from her face, propelled by a huff and a heavy sigh. Right now, Marinette’s bangs were a mess.

“Okay, girl. You need a night off.”

“What? No, I’m fine! Really! Plus, I can’t really afford to take a night off right now, Alya… I don’t know what Shadowmoth ha—”

“Yeah, no. I’m stopping you right there. For the next twenty-four hours, this space is a Ladybug-talk free zone,” she gestured vaguely around her bedroom, which was scattered with printouts and pictures that Marinette had brought over to work on nailing down Hawkmoth’s possible location using Alya’s beloved akuma-map. “I know, I know. It pains me more than it pains you, truly. But I’m doing this for you. Tonight: you, me, drinks, distractions. You are taking a night off.”

“But Alya! What if—”

“Hush, you know that’s incredibly unlikely. And, in the event of this IF you are so set on, you know that cat boy and I will have your back. Even drunk ladybugs can purify akumas when they have the clawed crusaders on their side.”

“I can’t believe you gave in to his silly nickname.”

“It is a badass nickname and you are just jealous that we bonded.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m annoyed.”

“Mhmm… keep telling yourself that, girl. Now, back to the matter at hand: what kind of drunk do you want to get tonight? Classy or trashy? I still have that peach stuff from last month, but if we are thinking classy I might need to call in the reserves to get us some decent wine.”

“You won’t need to call in anybody, Al, because I am definitely not getting drunk tonight.”

“Night off, Marinette. Drunkenness is a prerequisite.”

“Can’t we just watch movies or something? I really don’t know if that’s too good of an idea…”

“Girl, we watch movies every night. This is a night off. Don’t think I don’t see you stressing all throughout movie night every week, anyway. You need to take your mind off Ladybug,” she gestured at the mess that had consumed her bedroom. “And get your mind back on Marinette. Superhero or no, you’re still a teenage girl who is supposed to be enjoying the last few months of college.”

Marinette pouted.

“Stop pouting. You know you deserve to have normal girl fun.”

“But Alya I—”

“No buts.” An unnervingly devious look crossed Alya’s face. “Unless it is your butt in that pair of skinny jeans that you and I both know you-know-who loves. Boys will be here in twenty. Get to it, girl.”

Marinette just gaped at her. She didn’t even notice that Alya had grabbed her phone, but alas, there was the tell-tale ping.

Alya Cesaire → Akuma class OGs chat

Alya: anyone down for a little last minute get together—my door is open and my bar is stocked

Nino: HELL YEAH babe!

NL: got a new mix i’ve been meaning to show you… so entertainments on me fam!

Alix: This thing got an itinerary or just drunkenness for drunkenness sake?

Alya: the latter, natch.

Alix: Sick! Count me in.

Kim: same!

Rose: Do you need us to bring anything?

Alya: anything you feel like sharing

Alya: otherwise, just yourselves!

Alya: Agreste~you better bring us some of that expensive shit that i know your pops keeps somewhere in that castle of yours

Alya: no fancy wine, no admittance

Alya: the rest of you peasants just bring wtvr

Adrien: uhhhhhhhhhh

Adrien: ALYA

Adrien: dang it! You know I feel obligated to steal wine from my dad’s cellar now

Adrien: do you know how scary my dad is!!!??

Nino: DUDEEEE

Nino: DO IT you wont!

Adrien: shuddup Nino

Marinette: Adrien you totally don’t have to! Alya is just being **extra** Alya today

Alya: i plan a night off for this girl

Alya: and this is the thanks i get??????

Alya: can ya’ll believe this?

Alya: ridiculous

Zoe: UTTERLY RIDICULOUS

Adrien: utterly ridic

Adrien: dangit

Zoe: lol first! sorry adrien

Marinette: ugh ty I guess Als xxxxx

Alya: awe she DOES care, youre welcome babe!

Alya: so sunshine… about that wine?

Adrien: yeah yeah yeah

Adrien: use my people pleasing against me why dontcha

Alya: gladly <3

“Alya, stop bullying Adrien.”

“No way, girl. Giving that boy a task is the only way to ensure he shows up. Speaking of which… butt, jeans, go, now!”

The doorbell rang. Nino had perfected the quickest route to Alya’s house from every part of Paris years ago. Yes, he was whipped; and yes, he was proud of it.

“ALYA! I have to clean all of this up and I have to go home to get those jeans that you’re so dead set on and…”

“No you don’t. Kaalki?”

“Right here, Ms. Rouge.”

“YOU USED VOYAGE TO BRING ME JEANS?”

“No way girl! Don’t be silly. Kaalki and Roaar just volunteered to be my errand kwamis.”

“You guys do realize that I am the guardian, right?”

“Of course, that’s why we worked so hard to get everything that you need for tonight.”

“I—you… wait is this my good bra? How did you—”

“Us kwamis pay attention, Marinette.” Tikki cuddled up to her cheek.

“Et tu, Tikki?”

The ladybug kwami just giggled and made her way to the pile of papers scattered across Alya’s bed, starting to organize them back into neat stacks.

“Night. Off.” Alya punctuated each word with a shove and a smack on the bum, directing Marinette toward the bathroom and shutting her in to get ready while she got the door for Nino.

#foxford just casually drops an entire dang chapter of a fic for your ffwf enjoyment #oops #miraculous ladybug #foxford writes #ml #ml season four #aged up adrienette #ffwf #ffwtuesday #thanks for asking!!#<3 #foxford answers #thatcroissantgurl #a moment of silence for my wip graveyard #cw: mentions of drunkenness #(they are old enough in france okay)

6 notes · View notes

leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 4 years ago

Text

BTS DRABBLE-Taehyung

What happens when you reach a breaking point with your best friend? And what happens if maybe you’re a little bit in love with said best friend? Okay, so maybe you were a little bit stupid. And maybe you were a little bit crazy. But things always work out in the end. Right?

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, BTS Drabble, Angst, Fluff, Kim Taehyung, V, Taehyung, Taehyung x you, Taehyung x reader, Best Friend AU

Genre: Angst, with a fluff ending

Title: Maybe

“I can’t do this anymore. It’s so stupid. And I hate it!” The words tumble from your mouth before you can do anything to stop them, but they’re freeing, and honestly, you hadn’t wanted to stop them in the first place.

“(Y/N)....” Your best friend, takes a cautious step toward you, as if he’s approaching a dangerous, unpredictable wild animal. “Let’s just go back inside....”

“No!” You shout, and then you laugh, because damn, does it feel amazing to finally stand up for yourself for once. “No.” You repeat, slightly more subdued this time, as you stare back at him. “I don’t want to.”

“(Y/N)” He sighs your name, as if you’re a petulant child, and takes another step in your direction. “You’re going to freeze out here.”

Okay. So maybe you were a little drunk. And maybe you were being a little irrational. And maybe, you were actually starting to shiver, as the rain continued to cascade from the night sky. And maybe you were feeling a little stupid-standing at odds with your best friend-in the dark, wet alley behind the bar.

But no. You weren’t going back inside. Not this time.

“I don’t understand you, Taehyung.” You stumble over his full name, not used to the way it feels crossing your lips, as you stand your ground, watching him advance toward you, sneakers drenched, dark, curly hair starting to flatten to his forehead.

You laugh again, swinging the pair of discarded heels in your hand, as you do a full circle in the alleyway, looking up and letting the rain drip freely onto your face. And then you’re coming to a stop, and you’re facing him again, and and the desperate, clawing anger and hurt and betrayal is forcing its way up your chest and out your throat once more.

“I don’t understand you.” You repeat, hair now dripping icy streams of water down your bare shoulders and back. You hadn’t thought to bring a coat. “All you do is talk about her.” Your voice is thick, and suddenly, you’re swallowing hot tears, and your words are growing unsteady. “And she’s not even good to you. You’re always venting to me about her, but for what? Why are you staying? I could be so much better for you than her, Tae! I give a damn!” Your fingers are splayed across your chest, and there it is, all out in the open now.

“I know, (Y/N).” Taehyung says, and his voice is placating, and the look on his face makes you sick to your stomach-sympathetic and pitying and altogether grotesque. He reaches out a hand, and his fingers brush the wet, chilled skin of your arm. “Let me call you a cab....”

“No.” You wrench away from his touch, and your heart is loud in your ears, and you can’t look at him anymore. “You’re just saying that because you want me to shut up. Look, Taehyung.” There it is, his full name again. You shoot him one last fierce glance as you turn to head in the direction you think the front of the bar is in. “When you actually want to say that to me, and mean it, you know where to find me.”

“(Y/N)!” He calls out your name, but you don’t look back, bare feet slipping on the slick, rain covered cobblestones.

Look. Maybe you hadn’t gone about it in a sane way. But maybe, just maybe, you had meant every single damn word you had said.

*******

At work on Monday, it takes everything inside of you to focus on the stack of paperwork that lies piled, waiting for you, in a large, gleaming, ivory tower on your desk. And by the third cup of coffee of the morning, you’re not sure whether you’re focusing, or whether you’re floundering.

Maybe you have the worst hangover ever, in the history of hangovers. Or maybe it’s the fact that Taehyung hasn’t texted you, at all, since the night of the incidence. Or maybe, it’s simply because the office coffee is shit.

Whatever the reason, you’re struggling.

And the appearance of a certain dreaded someone in the doorway of your office, makes everything seem suddenly, very much, worse.

“Shit.” You swear under your breath at the sight of her overly glittered shoes appearing in the edge of your vision, a direct contrast to the drab carpet, as you sigh, and putting aside the paperwork you had been staring at for the last hour, manage a small, polite smile. “Eve. What can I do for you?”

She steps inside your office space, seeming to mull over the degrees framed on the wall, before she finally turns to you, an overly fake and patronizing smile stretched across her red lips. “Oh, (Y/N), I actually came to talk to you about the Lueber Case.”

You grind your teeth, as she sits down in the chair opposite your desk, and begins to inspect her long, manicured nails. “Okay. What about it?”

“I’ve decided I’m passing it off to you.” Eve states simply, still not looking up from her nails, although you swear her lips pull back in a malevolent gesture, that’s probably meant to show her rhetorical fangs and intimidate you. She finally looks up at you, as if realizing you’re there, and more important than her present manicure. “I’m bored with it.”

Something inside of you boils at her words, and you bite your tongue, because the only thing you can think of saying in that moment is something along the lines of, ‘Just like you’re bored with Taehyung?’

Your boss smirks, tossing long, ebony hair over her shoulder, as she leans toward you slightly. “So? Will you take it?”

You know she’s only asking to be polite. She knows that you have to do exactly as she asks.

And maybe, it’s the smug look on her face, or maybe it’s the fact that she’s treated your best friend like shit for the last two years, or maybe it was the fact that you were simply done doing what she said, but for whatever reason, the next word out of your mouth caught you both by surprise.

“No.” You said firmly, pushing aside your pile of paperwork, as you took her full on, her eyes darkening and brow furrowing at your obvious noncompliance as you stood, placing your hands palm down on your desk. “No, I will not take your case, Eve.”

“Excuse me?” The woman in front of you stands, lips pulling downward with anger as she regards you coldly. “What did you just say to me?”

“I said.” You take in a deep breath, steeling yourself, before looking her directly in the eye. “No, Eve.” You feel your own rage and anger, tucked inside for two years, start to erupt to the surface, like magma kept beneath the earth’s crust for too long. “I will not take your case. And I will not,” You step out from behind your desk, catching her by surprise, as she takes a sudden haltering step back from you. “sit by anymore, and listen to my best friend tell me how you treat him like shit.”

Eve’s eyes narrow at your words, but you hold your ground, as she steps toward you once more, bringing you nose to nose, as she hisses out between clenched teeth, “You little bitch. I knew you had something to do with his sudden silence.”

Maybe you were a little caught off guard to hear that Taehyung hadn’t called Eve either. Or maybe you were just feeling lighter, getting everything off your chest finally.

But for whatever reason, her words made you smile, and you couldn’t help it as you let out a slightly, shocked laugh.

“He didn’t call you either.” You laugh again, suddenly feeling a million times lighter than you had that morning.

“Shut up.” Eve snaps, eyes dark with fury, as she backs away from you toward the door, waving her trembling finger in your direction. “You’re fired. You hear me, (Y/N)?” Her voice has risen in volume, and she’s practically screaming at you from the doorway now. “You’re fired, (Y/N)! Get the hell out of my firm!”

Maybe you were crazy. Maybe you were absolutely insane.

Because, picking up your purse, you walked past the frantic and enraged Eve with a smile, leaving the office for the last time, feeling amazingly more light than you had an hour earlier.

******

Taehyung still hasn’t contacted you.

But maybe, just maybe, everything might turn out to be okay after all.

Because he still hadn’t contacted Eve either.

Sitting down at the table in your apartment, you carefully lift a mouthful of noodles to your lips, blowing on the hot food, as you reach for the newspaper you had discarded there earlier.

Scanning through the job listings, you hum a meaningless tune to yourself, as you dare to the take the first bite of your ramen.

Maybe that was a mistake.

“Ouch. Shit!” You swear, the boiling noodles burning your tongue, and subsequently your throat, as you swallow hard, before stumbling out of the chair and to the kitchen, gasping to try and cool your mouth, as you turn on the tap and, not bothering with a cup, lean over to put your lips beneath the cold stream of water.

Straightening up after a few relieving seconds, you turn off the faucet, and glancing down at your sweater, which is now stained with a large watermark down the entire front, you swear once more. “Dammit. Good one, (Y/N).”

There is a knock at the door.

Glancing up, caught off guard, you carefully make your way back to the front room, and cursing your landlord for not including a peephole, you sigh, before reaching down to pull open the door.

Your mouth drops open at the sight of him. Because maybe, you had thought, deep down, that you’d ruined your friendship, that he’d never speak to you again. And maybe, the sight of him, standing there in your doorway, hands dug deep into the pockets of his favorite plaid pants, has your heart beating just a little faster than normal.

“Hey.” He offers you a rueful smile after another moment of silence, tilting his head slightly to the side, as his swath of dark, curls tangle cutely over his forehead and brow with the movement. “Can I come in?”

You swallow, and nodding, step to the side to allow him into your apartment, self consciously tugging at your still wet sweater, as you close the door behind him, and follow him into your living room.

“Are you always just wet?” Taehyung asks teasingly as you come into the room, and face him, standing awkwardly at arms length from each other, as if not sure what to do next.

Your mouth goes dry at his words. Dammit. How did he know how much he affected you? Was he really asking.....

Taehyung motions to the stain of water down the front of your sweatshirt, and your cheeks flame, as you pull back from your previous thoughts. “Oh, um.” You wipe a hand down the watermark, and bite your lip, avoiding his gaze, and hoping you aren’t blushing as much as you think you are. “You caught me at a bad moment.”

There is silence again, you looking at the carpet, his hands still in his pockets, as he moves awkwardly from foot to foot, and you recognize the same sneakers, now dry, that he had been wearing that night.

“(Y/N)...” Taehyung finally breaks the quiet with your name and a heavy sigh, just as you start to speak as well.

“Taehyung...”

You both stop, unsure of who should go first, and finally, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, Taehyung chuckles softly, before motioning for you to continue.

Maybe you’re just feeling bold, or maybe you’re tired of keeping things in, but whatever the case, you’re caught off guard by what you choose to say next.

“You didn’t call Eve.” You blurt out, immediately noting the strange look that crosses your best friend’s face at your words.

He sighs, reaching up once more to rub at the back of his neck, a habit of nervousness he has done ever since you have known him. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why?” You ask, before you can stop yourself. You’re in too deep now. Might as well face the music.

“Well, because...” He hesitates, dark eyes finally looking into yours once more, mouth twisted into a serious line as he considers. “You were right. I put up with shit I shouldn’t have, for a long time.”

You watch him for a moment, normally handsome, carefree features pulled into something tighter, pinched, worried.

“You didn’t call me either.” You say next, quietly, softly, almost as an afterthought under your breath.

“I know.” Taehyung doesn’t look at you now. “I was scared.”

You’re surprised to hear the words leave his lips. Kim Taehyung, as far as you know, has never been scared of anything, in all the years that you have known him and been by his side. Not through primary school, not through high school, not through college.

No, Kim Taehyung is fearless.

But maybe, just maybe, you had never considered that you might be the one thing he was afraid of.

“Why? Have you seen me?” You joke, trying to lighten the sudden serious mood, not sure how to hand this side of your best friend. You motion to your wet sweatshirt. “I’m a disaster.”

Taehyung lets out a laugh, though it is not his usual, and a lot less humorless, as he brings his eyes up to yours once more, and your breath catches in your throat at how serious he is, pupils dark and wide surrounded by the warmth of his irises. “I was scared you wouldn’t want to talk to me.”

“I always want to talk to you.” You shrug, tilting your head curiously, as you wait for him to explain.

He sighs, and reaches up to rake a hand through thick curls. “I know. And that’s the problem.” He offers you a slightly rueful smile, and takes a small step toward you. “You always want to talk to me. And I’ve taken advantage of that. And I should have been listening instead of talking, (F/N).” He breathes in, and suddenly, you realize how close he has gotten in the past several seconds.

You swallow, but hold his gaze, fingers twitching at your side, because damn, in that moment, do you just want to reach out and take his hands in yours. “Listening to what?” You breathe out, scared to disrupt the space between the two of you.

“Listening to my best friend.” His lips pull up into half a smile, and you’re distracted for a moment, by the way his dark eyelashes brush his tan cheeks when he blinks, and the way his pink, full lips form his words around bright, white teeth. “You were right, (F/N). I just didn’t want to hear it, so I kept coming up with excuses. But.” He reaches up carefully, and lets his fingertips, feather light, brush down the skin that covers your cheekbone. “I wasn’t in love with Eve.”

“Oh.” You say stupidly, not quite sure what to say in the moment, and slightly overwhelmed with the smell of his cologne washing over you, and the way his thick knit sweater frames his wide shoulders, and the way his fingers feel against your skin.

“That’s all you have to say?” Taehyung grins suddenly, and chuckles slightly, before letting his fingers trail down your face to your chin, as he tips your head back so that you’re looking directly up at him. Something in his warm, caramel irises changes as he watches you, darkening and swirling, pupils suddenly blown wide. “Where’s all your brutally honest and snarky wisdom that you’ve always used to put me in my place right now (Y/N)?”

You shrug halfheartedly, heartbeat loud in your ears. “I don’t know. Now that you’re finally listening, I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Better take advantage of that.” Taehyung teases in a low tone, although the joking doesn’t quite reach his eyes, which have dropped down the length of your face to your lips.

Your heart feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest, as he tightens his fingers slightly around your chin, keeping you in place, as he leans toward you, slowly, his lips parted only barely, as his gaze flicks up once, to meet yours, before he leans even closer than before.

He’s so close, his lips are almost brushing your own, your whole body feels as if it’s quivering with anticipation, and the feel of his balmy breath washing over your face, is almost enough to destroy every last shred of will you have.

Maybe you’re feeling especially bold. Maybe you’re just ready for the years long wait to be over. Or maybe the need to kiss Kim Taehyung is just too damn much.

But whatever the reason, before he can close the last centimetre between the two of you, you’re leaning into him and ending the space between the two of you, and your hands are going to the back of his neck, tangling into the ebony curls there, as you pull your body flush against his.

You have never kissed anyone whose mouth fit yours more perfectly than your best friend’s.

It’s hard to breathe, the feel of Taehyung’s soft, silken lips on your own, the way his tongue darts out, hot and liquid, to trace the shape of your mouth, it’s all making you feel lightheaded and dizzy and way too sure that this is all a dream.

He pulls back from you, slightly, just to catch his breath, and there is a brief moment of nothing but heavy breathing between the two of you, foreheads resting against each other, lips swollen and scarlet from the kiss, and then, without warning, he leans into you once more, and murmurs into the corner of your mouth, “I love you.”

You can’t help the smile that slides across your lips at his words, and turning your face toward him, you curve your mouth around the shape of his jaw, and breathe back in reply, “I love you, Kim Taehyung.”

He grins, you can feel the motion against your skin. “I know, (Y/N).”

Maybe it’s the way he says it. Or maybe it’s the way the words echo in your head, as he covers your mouth with his once more. Or maybe it’s simply because he’s your best friend and you can tell he’s serious.

Because, no maybe about it, you know he means it this time.

146 notes · View notes

needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas · 4 years ago

Note

OOH can we see how Kohga would react to Mipha asking for relationship advice? Since she’d see how devoted and passionate Sooga is for his Master, and not really anyone else in their group is in a relationship soooo

I’m just obsessed with him just adoring Mipha and trying his ass off to get her and Link together it’s so cute

One, thank you for recognizing the fact that Kohga playing Mipha’s wingman is possibly the best idea I’ve EVER had. Two, I am SO ready to start this absolute soft shit. Smut is fun and all, but come on, Kohga trying to hook bitches up is amazing. And third, this got waay out of hand, so enjoy some double dates here.

“So, did you get me something?”

Sooga hardly left Master Kohga’s side. Whenever he had to, be it to lend a hand elsewhere; he had TWO rules to follow; come home to him at the end of the day, and bring him something. Kohga had been sitting here, having tea with Mipha, while Sooga offered to help Sidon hunt for sneaky river snails (Sooga had a real knack for knowing where to find them). They came back with quite the haul, so the fact that he managed to get anything else was nothing to scoff at. He put the large bag of fish down on the floor, and from his pockets, produced a small cage. Inside the cage was what appeared to be a winterwing butterfly. Kohga clapped his hands together, clearly loving it.

“Ooh, I’ve been looking for one of these!”

“I know. It was why I had to stop in the middle of fishing to catch it for you. I may have let Sidon fall in the water in my haste. Maybe.”

Mipha cocked her head to the side upon seeing his reaction to the small bug.

“You like bugs?”

“Just the butterflies. I only keep them for a day or two before I let them go, I just think they’re neat.”

Kohga took a hold of Sooga’s chin, grinning from ear to ear.

“And SOMEONE seemed to remember me saying I wanted this specific one. You’re such a sap, Sooga.”

Sooga was trying (and failing) not to smile.

“I listen to EVERY word you say, master Kohga.”

“Ugh, you’re being mushy again. Get outta my face, go help shark boy with the fish.”

Kohga tried to look mean as he gently pushed his face away, but it was plainly obvious; Kohga loved him. Sooga pardoned himself, hoisted the bag over his shoulder, and walked off with Sidon. Mipha took a sip of her tea, watching as Kohga lightly shook his head. She knew it was a bad emotion to feel, but she couldn’t resist feeling a bit jealous. They were so happy with one another, and yet, her own love and affections were clearly not recognized by the one boy she loved, more than anything. Perhaps…

“Kohga? Can I ask something?”

“Whatever you want.”

Kohga stopped ogling his boyfriend for a second and gave her his attention, snacking on the cookies she made, just for him (shaped in just the cutest seashells). She squirmed a bit in her seat, unsure of how to go about it, before she finally came out with it.

“How...did you get someone to love you, the way Sooga does?”

Kohga stopped eating for a second, looking at her sullen face. This little fish was just sweeter than banana bread, and it hurt poor ol’ Kohga to see her love so much, without Goldilocks even talking about it with her. Sure they were young, and they had forever to talk about this stuff, but there was no time like the present.

“Sooga is a fucking idiot, for one, and I attract idiots. Second, you kinda just. Come out with it. We started off as friends before anything, and that’s now all relationships start. Course, your case is a BIT different from mine. You want my honest opinion? Just shoot your shot. I mean, worst he’s gonna say is no. Or nothing with his mute ass…”

Kohga mumbled that last part, helping himself to another sip of tea. Realizing it didn’t seem to be very helpful, he sighed.

“Or, you could cook him something. Call me old fashioned, but my mama always said the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I make mean salmon skin, look at the hunk I bagged.”

They both turned to look at Sooga, who was busy de shelling the fish alongside Sidon. Mipha pursed her little lips, before softly nodding.

“I...suppose that isn’t a bad idea at all. If I can find the courage in my heart to ask him.”

Just then, Kohga noticed Link walking alongside the princess. Small land, honestly. Kohga put his hands to the side of his face, crying out to Link.

“Yo Goldilocks! Mipha’s cookin’ tonight, you want in?!”

Link nodded, giving a thumbs up. Kohga shrugged.

“See? Easy. You just gotta be straightforward with boys.”

Mipha held her face in her hands, obviously embarrassed.

“But what do I do WHEN I make him something?! What do I say? What do I talk about with him?”

Kohga loved Mipha, really he did, but girl needed to stop seeing boys as a lynel, and more along the lines of wild horses. Something to tame, not to fear. He sighed.

“Tell you what. Me and Sooga will join you, sorta like a double date kinda deal. I’ll be there if the date goes bad, and we can dip when the date is going GOOD.”

Mipha looked up from the table with just the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“You...would do that, for me?”

“Course, lil red! You’re like, my favorite in the little team of goody two shoes. Plus, free eats, can’t complain-”

She suddenly got out of her seat, and nearly pounced on him for a hug. The things he did for love.

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

“He here yet?”

“Not quite, but I’m just about done!”

Kohga came back a while later, alongside Sooga. Kohga had his own men helping her in the kitchen, setting up the dining room, everything she could need, Kohga helped with. Kohga scoffed as he put his gift on the dining room table (he’d be remiss if he didn’t bring something to drink for the occasion), lightly pulling up one of her fins, and scoffing.

“Okay, let the boys finish up. Sooga, get to work on this girl, she needs to focus on being as pretty as a fresh stack of banana pancakes.”

Sooga nodded, prompting Mipha to follow him to her bedroom. Kohga was about to see just what she was cooking, before the main doors flew open. Link. Aka, Goldilocks, aka, the guy that never fucking knocked. He was wearing the classic gerudo outfit. A real tits out look, and honestly Kohga would jump on that in a heartbeat.

“Goldilocks! Bit early! How you doing? Mipha will be ready in just a second, take a seat, lemme get you a drink!”

Link nodded. Kohga chatted him up for a minute, serving him a nice glass of banana wine (it’s actually VERY good). When he caught the eyes of Sooga, he pardoned himself and dipped into the hallway. He took one gander at Mipha, and gave a whistle.

“Girl look at YOU! Lookin’ prettier than a pack of opals!”

She really did look like a beauty. Freshly touched lipstick, sharpened nails, her silver jewelry replaced with gold, and instead of her usual blue sash, Sooga somehow managed to find time to make a blue, see through looking dress for her. It fit around her body snugly, but it was a loose, comfortable material, perfect for fashion, and function. Sooga was so talented, getting that together so quickly. Kohga nodded towards Link.

“Go keep him busy, gotta give this girl a pep talk.”

Sooga nodded. Once he left, Kohga carefully put his hands on her shoulders.

“Look at me. Lookin? Okay good. You like this guy, so be you. BUT, you need to let him know you’re interested. Be flirty. Touch his hands, compliment him, fucking, feed him from your plate- make it obvious. You’re a princess. He’s a knight, it’s GONNA happen.”

She nodded firmly, shoulder’s straight as a Lynel’s.

“I can do this!”

She peered over at Link, and immediately hid behind a wall again.

“I can’t do this! He’s wearing the voe armor!”

“For the love of…”

Kohga sighed. Why did he love all these shy bitches?

“Mipha. You’re gonna make HIM drool, not the other way around. Come on, you’ve got this. I’ll be right here, I’ll make you look good as hell. On three. One. Two. Three!”

He carefully pushed her towards the dining room, and Mipha looked ready to have a heart attack. Poor thing.

“Link! It’s so nice to have you over! I hope my invitation wasn’t sudden!”

Link shook his head. Kohga, sensing things were still awkward, jumped in. He was always the fun one at parties.

“Hey, you know what, we should totally start eating! I heard Mipha made quite the spread, Sooga why don’t you help bring the stuff out?”

Sooga nodded, heading into the kitchen. Kohga gestured for all of them to take a seat (with Mipha sitting right next to Link of course), and him just a bit away from them. Close enough to be supportive, but just far enough to beat it if he was cramping their style. Soon enough, trays of food were brought in, and even Kohga had to admit, he was starved.

“Master Kohga?”

“Yes, Sooga?”

“I’m sorry.”

He was about to ask what for, but then he saw it. Fish dish. Fish dish, not a single dish WASN’T fish. And he couldn’t just NOT eat her food, less he make Mipha’s food look awful. Kohga gulped, and Mipha seemed to catch onto his distress.

“Oh Kohga, I’m so sorry, I forgot you didn’t like fish! Please, let me make you-”

“Nope!”

Kohga could feel his ass sweating. He was really gonna sit here and eat fish, because Mipha deserved it. Link looked over at him, clearly just as confused as anyone else. Kohga forced himself to chuckle.

“I mean...I HATE clam chowder. A lot. It’s gross, it’s squishy, it smells AWFUL. Unless it’s Mipha’s. I LOVE Mipha’s clam chowder! She is just. SUCH a good cook, I could eat a whole bowl!”

Link looked him right in his face, grabbed a bowl, and filled it completely with clam chowder. He slid the bowl over to him, and Kohga wanted to throw up. That yucky, smelly smell of fish.

“Son of a bitch..I mean, yum! Thank you, Link.”

Mipha just had to like this blonde asshole. Sooga made a motion to grab the bowl, but Kohga halted him. He was going to do this for Mipha. He took a taste of it, and he fought every urge not to puke. Dear god, the smell and the taste was awful. But he forced himself to swallow, smiling.

“See? I l-like it! So it’s GOTTA be good! Mipha is just, so talented!”

Link seemed satisfied, helping himself to a bowl. Mipha looked at Kohga, clearly worried, but he shook his head.

“Make it up to me by getting some, Mipha.”

He muttered underneath his breath, forcing himself to eat more. Sooga had no problems, this asshole, eating fish like it was nothing. Mipha pretended like she didn’t know anything was wrong, giving her attention towards Link.

“So, Link! You’ve been over at the Gerudo desert, I take it. Urbosa is doing well, I trust?”

Kohga didn’t pay attention to the one sided conversation, too focused on handling the thick creamy broth. His stomach churned, his head hurt, and he was just. Dying. Not even Sooga could help him. He was going to bail, but he saw it in Mipha’s eyes. She was getting more nervous, and this was JUST from watching Link eat. Oh god this was a mess. He forced himself to think past the creamy mush still left in his bowl.

“So, Link, what do you think of Mipha’s new look? Nice right?”

Link looked her up and down, before giving Mipha a thumbs up. Her cheeks exploded in color, and she looked ready to just melt. Kohga tried not to gag at the fish burp he just had.

“And Mipha, thoughts on Link’s outfit?”

Mipha hesitated, letting herself get a look at him, totally not looking at that titty (atta girl), before softly nodding.

“You had it dyed white, it looks very...nice, Link. It really goes with your golden hair.”

Distracted by her thoughts, she played with a strand of his hair, before suddenly realizing what she was doing. They both looked away, buried in blush, just two, dumb, flirty messes. Oh his girl was KILLING IT. Kohga forced himself to gulp down his bowl (somehow not choking on the chunks), nearly gasping as he finished. Oh that was a mistake. That did NOT feel right. Didn’t matter, Mipha was GETTING somewhere with this guy. He whispered to her, nudging at her side.

“Offer him some of your food.”

“But? He has the same thing in-”

“Say yours is different. Just do it, trust me. Sooga! With me, kitchen, now.”

They dipped into the kitchen, and Sooga immediately handed him a bucket. Just in time for Kohga to purge his guts. Sooga patted his back, sighing.

“No one told you to finish the bowl, Kohga.”

“I am SUPPORTIVE, dammit! She deserves-”

Yet another purge of his guts. He groaned, relying heavily on Sooga to keep him upright.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m VERY proud of you. Going through so much for the sake of her happiness. You’re a wonderful person.”

“Sooga, that’s sweet, but dear god I’m throwing up here, shut the fuck up.”

Kohga was three for three, and he was wondering if it was worth it. Then he peered into the dining room. Mipha was spoon feeding him from her bowl, going so far as to scold him for his messy face, and cleaning it with a cloth napkin. It was adorable, it was sweet, and dear god was this worth it. Sooga chuckled, peering down at Kohga.

“You’re incredible, Master Kohga, letting her have this.”

“I AM pretty great, aren’t I?”

They sat there, watching them. For a moment, for a brief, sweet moment, she wasn’t shy. She was honest with herself, she was even just a bit flirty. And Link looked as if he wasn’t clueless. It was so goddamn sweet, it was worth every second of stomach pain. Kinda.

“Oh it’s coming again- he better marry this girl, or I’m starting the war all the fuck over again.”

He was complaining, sure. But he was really, honestly proud of his little Mipha. He’d do this again and again, if it meant getting to see such a sweet, happy smile.

He just prayed he didn’t have to.

#asks #kohga #mipha #sooga #link #listen #i was gonna make this waay longer #i had to cut myself off #because there are SO many double date ideas i can have for them

19 notes · View notes

cuttingthe-painter · 5 years ago

Text

Taron - Fae Boyfriend

Oooh, what about a human in a library researching the fae in Ireland. A friend went missing. Everyone thinks they ran away, but you found things that lead you to believe the fae have them. Now you're trying to find a way in and all the ways to bargain, fight, or trick them into giving them back. The fae admires your determination.

Thank you @saviorsong for the prompt!

***feel free to reblog***

Taron - Fae Boyfriend (sfw)

male fae x human reader

word count: 1775

Your eyes could not focus; the words on the page seem to scramble together more and more the longer you stare. You close your eyes, scrub your hands across them, and let out an irritated groan. The hours and days spent in the library seem to finally be catching up with you. All the books seem to say the same things: don’t tell the fae your name, don’t be rude to them, pay your respects, be careful with your words. What the books don’t tell you is how to get back your friend that the fae stole.

Of course, no one believed you when you claimed the fae stole Ayda; they all brushed off your claims saying ‘Ayda’s always been a wandering soul, she probably ran off on another one of her adventures.’ You listened to them and waited; Ayda was prone to taking spur of the moment trips and always came back a week or two later. But she always told you when she was going on an ‘adventure’ and after two weeks passed, you knew something was wrong.

You went to her house, letting yourself in with the key she gave you, and searched for any clues pointing you to where she went. All of her things were in their normal spots, as if she never left. Her keys hung by the door next to her coat and her purse sat on the kitchen counter. What you found in her office led you to these endless days in the library. On her desk sat a stack of papers; she had printed pages upon pages listing etiquette for interacting with the fae, where to find fairy rings, what happens if you enter a fairy ring. At the bottom of the stack was a map of the local woods covered with thick black X’s and a single black circle.

You had followed the map and went to the circle in the woods, knowing what you would find. A fairy ring sat right where the map said it would and you felt your heart sink. Sticking out of the grass outside of the ring was Ayda’s phone, covered in the morning’s dew. It was dead when you grabbed it, and even after you charged it for days, the screen stayed black. You knew it was a reach; the idea of fae stealing Ayda was outrageous, but all signs pointed to that being the case. So, you were going to get her back…you just needed to figure out how.

You’ve been coming to the library every day since, absorbing every single book on the fae that you can find, and you’ve hit a wall. Nothing seems to be working. You’ve gone to the ring every night, leaving behind shiny things, sweets you’ve made, and copious amounts of honey, yet nothing happens. You let your head fall from your hands and thud onto cold wood of the table. You know you can’t give up on her and you never would, but god are you tired.

“Well don’t give up now,” a velvet brogue taunts, “you’ve been working so hard.” Your head snaps up from the table, meeting two glimmering orbs of silver. The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen sits across from you, one arm lazily resting on the table and the other propping his head up.

Silver hair cascades over his mahogany skin, plaits woven with blue yarn scattered amongst the waves. The blue ornate clothes he wears, lined with gold, highlight the haughty air he exudes. He’s absolutely otherworldly. This realization tightens your throat, fear and victory battling to respond, clawing their way out of you. The man notes your silence, raising a perfectly groomed eyebrow in question. His silver eyes shimmer, rainbows dancing in molten silver, and your breath catches.

“Who are you?” you ask, attempting to keep the nervous tremor out of your voice. Despite your efforts, he catches the slight shake and a slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. Bright white teeth greet you, their sharp points confirming your suspicions of who- no, what- he is.

“Now, now,” he tsks with a slow, disapproving shake of his head, “you should know better than to ask something like that, especially with all this research you’ve been doing. I’ve loved all your gifts, by the way.” His eyes bore into you, hot and knowing and wild; you squirm under his gaze, feeling your neck and face flush.

“My…apologies.” You speak slowly, mulling over your choice of words. The books all told you how tricky the fae can be, how an unthoughtful sentence could lead to a multitude of troubles. He chuckles at your words, moving to lean forward and rest both forearms on the table.

“You’re so nervous,” he murmurs in a chiding tone. You watch him, unsure how to respond, and he tuts his tongue at you again. “So completely different now than you usually are. Why is that?”

“I- uh- I’m not-“ you cut yourself off, embarrassed by your unusual stutter. You face grows hotter and you attempt to swallow down the painful lump in your throat. His nose crinkles at you in frustration and he waits for you to continue. You shrug your shoulders at him and slump into yourself.

His lofty demeanor hardens, the air around you both growing thick and serious. “You obviously wanted me for something. Speak up, tell me what it is.”

“My friend went missing,” you blurt, nervously balling your hands into fists on your lap.

“Your friend went missing,” he echoes, raising that silver eyebrow into another imperious arch.

“Yes,” you breathe, cringing at the slight hiss that escapes. One of the main rules for talking to the fae is to be polite and you’re already fucking it up. Maybe it would be easier if the fae weren’t so incredibly insufferable. “I fail to see how that has anything to do with me.” He sits back lazily in his chair, pretending to clean under his nails. Anger burns at your ears and you start count your breaths to calm down. After a long moment of silence, you look back to the fae, plastering a cheery smile on your face. “I have reason to believe she disappeared in a fairy ring,” you explain with false blithe. His eyes move from his fingers, languidly trailing up your still form. Calculating eyes meet yours and you push away the anxiety creeping in. “And I want to bring her back. People miss her.” You leave out the fact that you’re the only one who has actually realized she was missing and not just on a trip.

“How interesting,” he muses loftily, “and I suppose you want me to bring her back. Is that why you left me all those gifts?”

“The gifts were merely a friendly gesture.”

“You are most kind,” he offers, watching you expectantly.

“I’ve read that fae will sometimes… strike a deal,” you say with hesitant determination. His face instantly lights up, a joyous smile barely hiding the mischief swimming in his eyes.

“A deal,” he repeats with burgeoning excitement. “Human’s rarely attempt to make deals these days.” He stands and moves around the library table. Your stomach twists with a mix of fear and excitement as you watch him; he’s a tiger and you’re his prey. You should leave, run and never look back. Nothing good will come of this, his face tells you that much, but you need Ayda home safely.

“I’ll tell you what, little human,” he purrs, leaning against the table, his thigh hot again your arm. “I will bring your friend back, but I want you in return.”

“What?” you gasp, sliding your chair back away from him.

“I want you. A companion. A partner. A mate. Whatever you choose to call it.” He steps forward, a hand brushing through your hair as he walks around you. Could you do it? Could you sacrifice your life here to give Ayda back hers? Could you live with this strange, arrogant man? Does he want you to love him? Thought after though races through your mind, overwhelming you. Your palms start to sweat and you rub them on your jeans. “You want your friend home so desperately. You’ve been so fiercely loyal, yet now you hesitate.”

“What’s the catch? Detail it all out for me, no tricks.” His hands move to rest on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing mindless circle.

“There’s no catch, my dove. You will give up your life here and move with me to my world. You will become my companion indefinitely and your dear friend will return back to her life.”

“Why would you want a human mate?” you pry in an attempt to find a hole in his deal.

“Fae become such boring company, but mortals are always so…human. It’s quite refreshing.”

“And what if I can’t love you? Will you still expect all the…partner perks from me?” You trip over the words, rushing the question off your tongue. You feel your face heat again and his fingers caress your cheek, savoring the warm flesh. His touch is light, but purposeful, and you find yourself enjoying it. The way he speaks to you is exasperating, so uppish and condescending, but his touch is gentle and tender and you lean into it, never wanting it to end.

“This right here tells me there is at least a chance. I have no intentions to force myself on you, my dove, that’s not fun for either of us. But I think you’ll find that you’re able to love me,” he whispers, his breath ghosting across your face. Your eyes flutter shut as his scent cocoons you. You breathe in deep, savoring his essence of freshly fallen rain and spring flowers. You can do this for Ayda.

“Will I ever be able to see her again?” you ask sadly.

“No,” he answers simply.

“Will she return safe and happy?”

“She’ll never know another sad day.”

“Then it’s a deal,” you murmur with a gentle sigh. You turn your head, looking up to him curiously. “But if we’re going to be companions, shouldn’t I know what to call you?” He laughs lightly and brushes your hair away from your face.

“You can call me whatever you like,” he states, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But most call me Taron.”

“Taron,” you repeat, attempting to mimic the way he rolled the r and butchering it.

“Good thing you’re going to have a lot of time to work on that,” he taunts before running a hand over your eyes, coloring the world white, and whisking you away to your new life.

~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog, and let me know what you think!

-painter

#fae boyfriend #fae x reader #fae boyfriend x reader #male fae x human reader #monster boyfriend #monster love #monster lover #monster x reader #monster romance #monster boyfriend x reader #reader insert #exophili #exophilia #exophile #my fic #my writing #prompt request

604 notes · View notes

swordofglory · 4 years ago

Note

oh oh oh fluff prompt: 1 for moreid but, like, Not established relationship 🥺

moreid + “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Reid is beautiful in the evening, Derek decides.

Derek has no idea how he ended up here, sipping some fancy overpriced drink from a gourmet food truck and feeling out of place at this pseudo farmer’s market art festival mash-up with a side of antiques.

Well. That’s a lie.

Reid had bribed him with a promise of good food and the knowledge that a seller of vintage Brough Superiors would be attending. The flash of his signature puppy dog eyes were an unnecessary, unconvincing attempt at persuasion that had absolutely no effect on Derek’s decision.

The two of them walk past stalls, Reid talking excitedly of oil paints and garlic bread and pointing out every novelty they pass; Derek watches him the whole time, marveling at the way the setting sun catches in his hair.

“Bone black paint is a mix of carbon, calcium phosphate, and calcium carbonate made from bone or ivory” Spencer says, talking a mile a minute. “It’s actually quite common, Rembrandt used it in his initial wash-like sketches for his paintings and in his portrait of Phillips Lucasz used unmixed bone pigment to paint the darkest parts of the clothing.”

Morgan switches his drink to his other hand in hopes of keeping it safe from Reid’s gesticulating hands, letting the sounds of his ramblings of burnt bones wash over him.

They round a corner and Spencer’s chatter stops as he beelines it to a tent stacked to the brim with antique and collectible books. Derek has half a mind to tease Spencer for the way his eyes light up at the sight. Frankly, it’s so annoyingly charming that Derek can’t decide if he wants to knock him upside the head or kiss him senseless.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph when had he become such a sap?

Excitedly, Spencer shoves his wildly sugary drink (Salted caramel mocha? Really Reid?) into Derek’s free hand and picks up a book twice the size of his head and thicker than Derek’s forearm.

Spencer’s long, spindly fingers — punctuated by thick knuckles — cradle the book like they were made to hold leather bound books weighted with the kind of words that would make an average person’s head spin. They’re rough, well used hands; his calluses come from gripping a pen too hard for too long and there’s ink stains under his nails and a papercut on his thumb. There’s a freckle on the top knuckle of his pointer finger that Derek can’t keep his eyes off of as Spencer traces the gold detailing on the cover with a fingertip before lifting his head to ask the seller something in Russian. The seller taps two different books in front of her and scurries off to the back of the stall to grab another, much older looking, book before handing it to Spencer.

The two of them continue their back and forth until Spencer counts out a wad of cash and finally stacks all four books in his arms and hefts them over to where Derek is waiting. The scabs maring the back of his hands from the woods they had to trek through for their last case stretch and crack under the weight.

“You got enough books there, scout?”

Spencer flicks the hair out of his eyes with a huff.

“They’re the reason I wanted to come here. Svetlana said she wouldn’t get them in until this festival.”

Spencer adjusts his hold on the books and opens his mouth again like he’s about to go on another ramble about the history of earl grey tea or the Frauchiger-Renner Paradox and Derek doesn’t think his brain can handle that. “Aw. And here I thought ya wanted to spend time with lil’ ole me. Turns out you’ve only got eyes for bookish Russian grannies.”

Derek tosses his cup away and starts walking towards the tent promising fresh fruit. Maybe he’ll get some of the hand dyed yarn to bride Penny into making him that blackberry pie again.

There’s a pattering of footsteps as Spencer scurries to catch up with him. He steps in front of Derek, books and big eyes in tow, and looks up at him. The tilt of his head and the glint in his eyes giving him the distinct look of a confused puppy.

“I always like spending time with you, Derek.”

He says it softly as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like he didn’t just stop Derek’s mind in its tracks.

Derek wants to say something stupid like ‘I really want to kiss you right now’ or ‘I spent last night thinking about the way your pinky curls under the handle of your coffee mug whenever you take a sip.’

Instead, he says, “I like spending time with you too.”. It comes out softer than intended but he doesn’t care because Spencer’s eyes get incredibly, beautifully bigger and he flushes so prettily that Derek wants to spend his time mapping out everything that makes him flush that way.

Spencer shakes his head again in an attempt to get the hair out of his eyes.

Derek tucks the stray lock behind his ear, tracing the line of Spencer’s jaw and deliberately trying not to think about the pink of Spencer’s tongue as it peeks out to lick his lips.

Both their phones ding simultaneously and Derek jerks away. Shit.

“Hotch?” Spencer asks after Derek looks at his phone.

Derek sighs.

“Duty calls, pretty boy.”

send me a number and a ship for a mini fic! [closed for this prompt list]

#inspired by the art festival i go to every year #we found an underground bookstore that specialized in antique/rare books and spent three hours in there #and walked out with a first edition wizard of oz #it was cancelled this year :(#spencer reid #derek morgan #moreid #mailbox #fic request #my writing #criminal minds

62 notes · View notes