#but seeing all the support from the boys cast in the comments warms my heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

boytouya · 4 years ago

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𝙒𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙖 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙪𝙩𝙚!

words: 1.2k

warning: profanity

request: “HELLO! <3 how r u !! could I request a mean male reader bullying back bakugou yet flirting w/ him at the same time? arson boy would be so disturbed. 😭your requests say open but PLEASE ignore this if they’re not, for my own dodge of self-embarrassment, LMFAOOO Ɛ/>”

a/n: i’m doing alright, sweetheart! i hope you’ve been doing well. this has been sitting in my inbox since april i’m so sorry!!! i hope i could do this request justice. i’m considering making it longer.. i didn’t wanna make the reader an unlikeable kind of mean so i went with something more tame, that’s why it sounds more like friends going back and forth :)

“Get your filthy paws off me!” Katsuki snarls, the link gums of his mouth exposed as he bares his teeth. If there were one word to describe him, it’d be feral. Sharp canines, an angular jawline and rough scarlet eyes that had a never ending blaze behind them. They were a deep shade of red, almost appearing brown. He was frustratingly handsome, the kind of pretty that only boys could achieve, with unnecessarily long eyelashes and beauty marks. His hair goes in all sorts of directions, each strand somehow meeting perfectly to form the most endearing row of spikes you’ve ever seen. He pushes you aside with his wrist, as if touching you with his entire hand would infect him.

His explosions were just as bright as his mind, the thought pops up when he nearly casts an explosion straight into your face. It crackles on his fingertips, illuminating an orange glow against the curves of your face. It blends almost perfectly into the apples of your cheeks and beneath your irises. He curses himself for thinking about you in so much detail, but how could he not?

“Ahh, ‘get your filthy paws off me!’” You tack on a nasally voice, obviously over exaggerated to make the boy uncomfortable. It works, seeing as he grunts and tears his gaze away. You can smell something burning, the dense scent of charcoal filling the air. “Stop projecting, and pull up your pants. You look fuckin’ stupid.” The insult comes out with a bit more venom than intended, and it clearly gets under his skin. The comment festers, aggressively at that.

“Keep mentioning being stupid and I’ll beat you till you are!” His pupils dilate, just underneath the light shining through his eyelashes. His tongue, as pink as his lips, swipes under his teeth. It feels like he’s the only other person in the room, a dark vignette blocking you from the rest of your class. Just you and Katsuki. Just you, Katsuki, and the God awful smell of whatever was burning.

“Fuck!” Bakugou yells, patting down his lap. You have to shift to see over his desk, but there’s a burning hole through his baggy pants. The mossy green lacks any sort of smooth transition into charred black. It’s not exactly small, but you wouldn’t say it’s that noticeable either. Around half the size of Katsuki’s calloused palm. He’s usually careful, he never needs to look out for these things because he has one hundred percent perfect control over his quirk. Then there’s you, pushing him off his balance beam for the first time in forever. His feet had already grown unsteady to begin with, but something about your unreasonably handsome face made him stumble.

“Do you have All Might boxers? That’s…kinda cute.” The hole is nowhere near the top end of his thigh, but you like to tease him anyway. There’s heat dwindling on his cheeks, more so than his palm. He doesn’t blush though, instead stomps his heavy foot on yours in retaliation. It could be to distract you from whatever he’s feeling rise to his throat. It definitely distracts you from what you feel in yours.

You’re always the first to check him, pull him back in from his fits of- well, passion. To others, he seemed aggressive and angry, but really, he was just passionate about what he enjoyed. Beating others. His fire was always ignited, the flame sparking the second he developed his quirk, and it only ever grew brighter. You wanted to be his candle, to be able to melt under his flame and bounce back when his wick had burned itself through and through.

“It’s too early for your shit.” Bakugou’s cheek rests against his knuckles, his elbow digging into the edge of his desk. He stares straight ahead, afraid the air would be snatched from his lungs if he makes eye contact with you for any second longer. His cheek, though squished between his hand and excess baby fat, looks incredibly kissable. When he’s not straining his face he appears much more youthful. Of course he was only a teen, the both of you were, but the facial expressions he made reminded you of an old man. The thought of Katsuki hunched over with grey hair, yelling at children brings a smile to your face. He already went to bed early, had a tight ironed schedule and woke up early. Honestly, he was already on his way.

He makes no effort to fully turn his body, let alone actually look at you. Instead, Katsuki tilts his head to the side and stares at you through his peripherals. He hadn’t thought about it till now, but the flirting was actually kind of flattering. Hearing you go on with your day without saying something Denki would fist bump you for left him feeling unsettled, like there was a tsunami in his stomach. He actually kind of liked blowing up your face after you flirt with him.

“I can feel those Granny Smith’s staring straight into my soul,” He ignores the obscure comparison of his eyes to apples, but he’d definitely think about it later. Your backhanded compliments have him tapping his foot against the floor in irritation. The rhythm is somewhat memorising, Katsuki makes a mental note to try it out on his drums in his free time. Not that he’d ever say it was inspired by you. Not in a million years. “Really lets me know where home is, thanks ‘Suki.”

“Don’t call me that, prick!” There are fireworks exploding in his stomach. The fizzle out into sparklers, zapping against his insides and bringing overwhelming thoughts straight to his head. It was an unusual feeling, trapped inside his body and only expelling through bouncing legs. At first, the flirting made him want to punch you in your prince-charming esque face, but hearing the nickname made him feel something else. Warm and floaty inside. With fifty percent humor intended, you reach over the safety of your desk to grasp his hand. In the millisecond you get to hold it, you note it’s faint dampness. A drawback of his quirk, something you’d be sure to tease him about another time. He swats your hand with a loud ‘smack!’ that bounces off the walls of the room. He doesn’t pull away completely, instead brushing his knuckles against your own. His signature nose wrinkle returns, manufactured from the exact opposite of disgust. He hates the way his heart quickens, the way he feels challenged when you speak to him, the way he craves the feeling of your hand on his for just a second longer.

But oddly enough, he loved- no, liked? He wasn’t ready for love yet.- you with every fiber of his being. His knuckles brushing against yours felt like more fiction than it actually was, his heart did somersaults against his ribs when he saw you. Hearing you insult him had always taken him aback, it made a mischievous glint in his eye return just as quick as it vanished. Then you’d laugh, a divine chime that he couldn’t quite describe with words, and say something that stopped the blood flow in his body. You truly were something else, a supernova that only vermillion eyes could see. He was thankful for that. The two of you are rather young, with questioning, impressionable minds that’ll cling to each other for support. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

taglist: @lustclubs @indigowren21 @cannedfoodisbestfood @junkwhoore @kissesdenji @sanderssidesangsttrash @i-d0g @kaito-asmr @jream-23 @princejasno @mel-bigia04 @mhasimp666 @onehellofasimp @corporeal-terrestrial @angelaturservice @shootingstars-and-burningsuns @sleepyslvt @rintarosaku

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4dtk · 3 years ago

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“32, 37 hand holding and 3, 26 kissing with rookie actor mark and experienced actor s/o on their first drama together?” yes sure!!! excuse me but i don’t watch that much k-dramas so i’m doing this purely from youtube videos LOL + if it mirrors any other k-drama or is similar then it’s purely coincidence!! just conjuring something up in my mind lol

hand-holding, 32 & 37: not really paying attention, both doing something else, but still holding hands / not realizing they’re holding hands till someone points it out

kisses, 3 & 26: smiling while kissing, giggling while kissing

“what’s that supposed to mean?” mark glances down at you in the field, saying his line that he’s practiced with you countless times. the poor boy was so worried about the outcome of it, having only acted as side or filler characters for the past year. although, with every gig he gets, you’re there to help him reach his fullest potential: practicing his lines with him, going through the different variations of how he could’ve executed it, accompanying him to sets.

even the staff couldn’t mask their shock when they see you walking together with a boy who was sweating his ass off, the familiar murmur of his few lines said under his breath as someone led you two to a common break room.

“don’t mind me,” you raise a hand, used to the starstruck faces that looked your way once the door opened. patting mark’s arm, you said something about supporting your boyfriend before settling beside him to work on hair and make-up. you conversed with him easily, briefly stopping at times to entertain autographs or pictures from the other side actors in the room.

it’s been like that since mark made his debut a year ago, taking up many gigs that you always supported. mark struck jackpot when he lucky to have someone to catch onto his talent, running an audition by him that got him the job (with a bit of persuasion on your side).

a job with you, where your embraces and kisses were not just reserved for the two of you in the comfort of your home, or where your affection was held back due to the intrusive cameras. this was an entirely new variation: of moments taken in private mixed with the recognisable traits of korean drama.

the touch of your skin is familiar to mark, but the words that come out of his mouth feel foreign instead. it’s not often that he spouts something so poetic written by the hand of skilled scriptwriters, but at least now he has more words to tell you when he can’t do it in his normal, unique way.

“exactly what i said. why do you need an explanation?” you giggle, hand wiggling out of the expensive coat that your stylist put on you for this scene.

you can tell mark’s arms are struggling to hold himself up, with a teasing glint in your eye that suggests you’re making fun of his strength. your laugh deepens when you realise he’s waiting for you to say your line, pleading with his eyes. he's not used to it yet.

you wait for dramatic effect. “after all, my love for you needs no explanation,” you swear you see mark release a sigh of relief, able to finally lower himself to you while he rests half of his body weight onto your person. his character’s kisses are soft, not much different from your own boyfriend’s as he deepens the kiss.

“remember how i wondered about how you taste like?” he pulls away to ask, the line referencing an interaction from one of the earlier episodes where his character said the same thing.

“what do i taste like, han jiwoo?” the foreign name rolls off your tongue easily now.

“hm… if i’m being honest, i forgot. i might have to kiss you again to find out,” mark delivers the line perfectly and doesn’t hesitate to lean again for another kiss. you’re sure he’s not acting now.

your mouths do a great job of hiding things, before his tongue swipes across your lips. there’s a squeeze from your hand when he does that, but you grant him access either way, melting into it with a cheeky smile that grows and a heart that feels full.

you can taste the incoming snort from mark but he manages to hold it in with a mere giggle. your kisses start and stop, struggling to get in even a bit of contact from how much you’re laughing. like always, you two hold your kisses to make sure there’s sufficient footage, but you have to admit that it was partially indulgent, too.

the scene was almost over, and when mark brings you to your feet you’re able to breath easier, both from your boyfriend’s weight on you and the released tension in having laid in wet grass for the past fifteen minutes.

his hand twines around yours, dragging you along the field as you run off into the distance, shoving and pulling playfully while the camera prepares to pan up. the last shot is of the two of you holding hands, swinging it like a pendulum before the green of the field disappears and the blue of the sky appear. soon, it fades to black.

“and that’s a wrap! thank you, everyone!” the director shouts. claps are heard and you’re dragging mark by then, stripping off the coat that’s overheating your body. it drapes over your elbow easily, responding to the other’s searching hand as you take it in yours. all the way to the dressing room you head seemed to permanently stay down, continuously bowing to directors, producers, staff members.

all you’re focused on is getting to your next schedule, promising to the cast that you’ll treat them to a meal soon as your shout resonates throughout the space. everyone cheers and you reply with a grin, slipping into the dressing room.

as you remove the hairdo with one hand, you ask randomly, “so? what do you think of han jiwoo?”

mark looks up from his phone, pulling a face while he thinks of an answer.

"well, for one, i'm jealous of him for kissing you." that elicits a laugh out of you, giving him a squeeze with your hand before he goes back to his social media with a smile, "but he's a cool kid. i'm glad i got the chance to portray h..."

a thud from the doorframe snaps you out of the moment.

"ah! s-sorry, mark-sunbaenim, (y/n)-sunbaenim," they bow immediately.

"i hope you don't mind b-but, i just came over to tell you how much i loved your chemistry on screen! it's such an honour to be on set with the both of you, especially you, mark-sunbaenim."

you grin as the other flushes at the compliment, but the side actor continues. you don't mind.

"i'm hoping to get a big role like you too, mark-sunbaenim! i've been watching your other shows, too. the way you give life to a character is always very refreshing," your boyfriend takes refuge in your connected hands.

"and i can't help but notice the love you have off-screen too! it's endearing, (y/n)-sunbaenim. i hope i'll have a love as strong as your hands are held right now!" mark barely manages a thank you as the actor excitedly bows again before making his leave.

once he's out of earshot, you giggle at the scrunched up expression, face warm from the comment about him to your interlocked hands and your relationship.

"that was unexpected," similarly, you packed your things again with a single hand when mark reluctantly stands up, overwhelmed.

"y'know, i didn't even know our hands were connected for that long until he said something." mark groans. you laugh.

"please stop talking, i might actually explode," your lover calmly says, letting you drag him out the back door with your hand in his.

with a small peck, your lips meet the back of his hand, "well before i do, i need to tell you that i vouch for every little thing that guy earlier mentioned. talent in every bone in your body, mark lee."

you flag down your manager's car too fast to see the smile on mark's face, but he's grateful for your heartfelt words as he thanks you with kisses and cuddles later in the night.

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americasmarauders · 4 years ago

Note

What about ....

“i’m not worthy of anybody’s love.” “that’s not true, you’re worthy of mine.” followed by the lover breaking eye-contact… + a love confession

Followed with tentative kisses in the dark

With Jason Todd x reader ❤❤❤❤❤

Lots of love xoxo

did this get completly out of hand? yes, yes it did. It was supposed to be short and sweet, but suddenly I had 12 pages of angst ready to make their way into the world.

I’m so sorry it took so long, elle, life got in my way, but now you have like, 6k+ words to make up for it. I really hope you like it.

warnings: completly unedited, sorry for the typos :))

words: 6,856

masterlist #

Aged 14, sometime in September.

Mason Anderson was the biggest dick she had ever met. He was petty and jealous and he picked on her just because. She just wanted peace, quietly resolving the homework she had spent an entire week working on. The library was empty, safe for a couple of other students when he barged in and robbed her of her papers.

He claimed he needed it more than her, he was the one almost flunking out of the class. She demanded her homework back, but he ran towards the boy’s bathroom with her work. It wasn’t the first time that sullen feeling of despair had been planted on her by Mason Anderson, it still didn’t make it any easier.

She sat in front of the boys bathroom, hugging her knees in an attempt to find comfort. She kept thinking that she could do it again, she had done it once, theoretically it would be faster to do it a second time. Light footsteps echoed through the hall, her eyes found their way to the source of the noise.

Jason Todd was a tiny kid with a big brain and an even bigger heart. He had helped her with English more times than she cared to admit. Sometimes she would see him walking towards the alley near the Academy, holding an extra package of chips to the little kid that stayed there sometimes. She liked Jason Todd, considering him the only alley she had inside the cold walls of the Gotham Academy.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, delicately, sitting beside her. “I thought you were gonna finish Statam’s paper today.”

“Mason Anderson stole it,” her eyes were cast downwards, looking at the seams of the floor with an almost inhuman interest. “He wanted to copy it, and I wouldn’t let him so he decided to flush down the toilet instead.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered to her, sitting next to her on the floor.

“It’s okay,” she shook her head, stretching her legs in front of her. “I just,” she sighed, trying to find the words, “I spent one week working on that, and I really needed the grade, you know? But he just didn’t care, he just thought of himself.”

Jason looked at her, softly. His eyes held a certain fire behind them, something she could never really describe what it was. It was entrancing, it calmed the pace of her heart. He didn’t say anything before getting up and marching towards the boys bathroom.

She didn’t hear anything going on inside, her mind imagining all sorts of scenarios where Jason would emerge from the bathroom beaten and defeated, Mason walking out completely victorious, with a shiny top grade Literature paper in hand. Her blood boiled at the image, more so than it did before. She got up from the ground, determined to help Jason win the fight, even if her papers were already down the plumbing.

But the door flung open, her friend walking out calmly, clutching her homework delicately. He offered her a smile, and as the door closed behind Jason she could see Mason on the ground gripping his nose in pain.

“Here,” the papers were completely dry to the touch, her confusion deepening. “He was copyin’ it.”

“I can’t believe you got this back,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I thought… I thought I'd have to redo it.”

“Nah,” he smiled shyly, “I would’ve helped ya.”

“I can’t really depend on you for everything, Jason,” she replied politely. “It’s not fair.”

“I got your back,” he affirmed, “ya don’t need to worry.”

And it meant the world to her that he did.

Aged 16, October 12th.

Jason Todd and her became friends after the Mason Anderson incident. She didn’t know what Jason had said to him, what had he done, all she knew was that Mason never bothered her again after that.

It was the night of her 16th birthday. It was late, probably past 3 in the morning when Jason carefully landed on the fire escape that led to her bedroom. He carefully carried a small box, wrapped neatly with a blue bow. He had chosen the gift lovingly, his heart warm with her. Jason hadn’t expected her to be such an integral part of his life, but just as quietly as she arrived, she placed herself in his heart permanently. She was his friend, true friend, she didn’t expect anything other than his company and support, something he was glad to provide.

His knuckles lightly grazed her window, making the softest noise. Her shades were partially open, he could see her body lying comfortably on her bed. She moved slightly, her body turning towards the window. Her hands rubbed her eyes delicately, seeing Jason smile awkwardly at her. She got up and dragged her feet towards him, opening her window to him.

“What’re you doing here?” her voice was slurred, intoxicated with sleep.

“You know, you should really lock your windows,” he commented, “Gotham’s a dangerous city.”

“Jay,” she warned, “what’re you doing here? It’s…”she searched for her clock, “fuck, 3 in the morning.”

“It’s your birthday,” he responded clearly, as if it was the most obvious reason why he was on her fire escape, on a cold October night only wearing a light jacket.

She blinked at his blunt response, confused on what to say to him. “You’ll see me tomorrow, Jay, I don’t understand why’d you come all this way just to see me.”

“Because it’s you,” he shrugged, stepping into her bedroom silently. “You really thought I wouldn’t see you on your birthday?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, looking down at her feet. A soft breeze came in through the window sending shivers down her spine. Jason closed the window for her and she sent a silent thank you towards his way. “I thought you wouldn’t bother.”

“Well,” he extended the little box to her. Her fingers brushed on his softly, a shock sent on his skin at the touch, “I couldn’t not see you.”

Her hands hugged the box carefully, hesitant on what to do with what was given to her. “Open it,” he urged her.

She eyed him suspiciously, undoing carefully the blue bow that decorated the gift. Opening the box, a tiny robin pendant next to two tiny stones pendants, an opal and an onyx: her birthstone and his. “Wow,” she breathed out, her heart racing inside her chest. Suddenly, she didn’t feel sleepy anymore. “Jason, this is… You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I had,” he stated, his eyes soft and loving, lingering on her more than they should. “You mean a lot to me, darling.”

Her eyes glinted underneath the pale moonlight streaming through the half closed curtains of her room. Jason’s breath hitched quietly at the sight of her, disheveled and sleepy and yet the most perfect person to grace his life. She was at a loss for words for a few moments, opening and closing her mouth, not knowing how to react. Her eyes trailed frenetically over the pendants, trying to find meaning in those.

“Why a robin?” the inquiry startled Jason. He wasn’t expecting to explain himself, much less explain why he had given her a robin pendant. She had no clue what he did when the night fell, who Bruce actually was and he intended to keep her in the dark about that aspect of his life. She didn’t need to know anyway, and telling her would only put her in danger. That was what Bruce made her believe.

“It reminded me of you,” he answered, simply, his eyes fixated on her angelic face.

It wasn’t untrue. Robins were friendly and protected over, birds that should never be harmed. Jason made sure of that, he had her back, always, and he knew she had his. But mostly, he wanted her to have a piece of him everywhere she went. If something were to happen, he wanted to guarantee he wouldn’t be a footnote in her life. What a magnificent life that would be, he knew.

Her eyes ran on his face, looking for a hint that he wasn’t sincere, that he was just messing with her. The thought was more heartbreaking than she anticipated. She found nothing malicious in his face, in his eyes, and smiled back at him. “Thank you, Jay,” she kissed his cheek delicately, her lips barely brushing his skin. It was enough to send both of them into a frenzy of feelings, a thousand thoughts running through their heads.

“Here,” he extended his hands, his eyes clear and full of emotion for her, “I’ll put it on for you.”

She handed him the box, turning around so he could clasp the hook of the necklace. Jason was considerably smaller than her - she guessed it was because of the years of malnutrition he endured when he lived on the streets - so she sat on her bed to meet his height. His fingers brushed slightly at the back of her neck, sending goosebumps on her body.

It was when she turned to look at him again that she realized that maybe Jason wasn’t just a friend to her. Maybe the interest she had in Jason, or how her heart raced when she saw him for the first time in the day weren’t because he was her friend. Maybe it was because she had decided to love him with all her soul.

Aged 16, April 28th.

It was ironic how sunny it was in Gotham that day. It was like nothing had happened, the world hadn’t gotten the memo that it was supposed to be gloomy and sad outside, to match the pain she felt inside.

On the deep green grass of Gotham cemetery, stood her and Jason’s family, listening to a priest preach something meaningless to her. Nothing mattered to her anymore, her friend, best friend, was buried deep into the earth, 6 feet under. She would never get to see him again, hear his laugh, take in his smile. She would never have another birthday with him, give him his favorite books, tell him she loved him. Her eyes were fixed on the fresh dirt lain over his shiny coffin, her hand fidgeting on the robin pendant Jason had gifted mer months before. It wasn’t an open casket, she couldn’t even see him for the last time.

The call was the most confusing moment she had ever gone through. He didn't even tell her he was going after his mom. He didn’t even get to explain that to her. Jason just burst through her window late at night, saying he was leaving Gotham for a few weeks, anger seeping through his pores and contaminating the room. His knuckles were badly bruised, as her fingertips lightly brushed he hissed. She didn’t question him, it didn’t even go through her head. He had said he wanted to find a part of him, and she nodded, wishing him luck.

Looking back, she wished she had begged him to stay, to find that part of him in Gotham, with her away from the perils of foreign bombs. Tears sprouted in her eyes as the thought passed through her head. It wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t predict a tragedy would have happened. It had become a mantra to her, and sometimes repeating it to herself didn’t help at all.

Bruce Wayne stood next to her, stoic, his face stony. It almost didn’t look like he had lost a son. But she saw how his jaw tensed, how it was similar to when Jason was upset and didn’t want to tell her about it. She could see how broken he was inside, how angry and desperate. She felt that too.

The priest stopped talking and the four people standing on that lawn let out a stuck breath of relief. Jason’s brother approached his Father, walking away from her. She stared at the stone, cold like Jason’s body, with the engrave ‘Jason Todd, beloved son and friend’. It didn’t make justice to what Jason actually was, he was much more than just a son and a friend, but it was what they used to describe him. If Jason had decided what his epitaph would be, surely would be a dramatic quote from Shakespeare.

Her name was called out in a posh british accent and she turned toward the person. What she saw was an older gentleman, holding a black umbrella to protect his baldness from the sun. A thin mustache hung over his upper lip, molded into a sad frown. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth. Master Jason talked a lot about you,” he commented with his left hand behind his back.

“All good things, I hope?” she joked quietly, her eyes trailed to her black shoes, wet grass glued to the sides of it.

“The best things, I assure,” his voice was firm and calm, his accent oozed her security, something she was eager to cling on. He reached for the inner pocket of his blazer, pulling a crisp white card. She furrowed her eyebrows, accepting the card. On it, it had Alfred’s name, his profession underneath and a phone number. “If you ever find yourself needing anything, I’ll be happy to help.”

She nodded, her thumb lightly brushing the expensive paper on her hand. “Thank you Mister Pennyworth,” her eyes found the old man, the wrinkles around it making his stern stance seem gentler. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to come over for some tea?” he offered. “I’m sure Master Bruce wouldn’t mind having his son’s friend over.”

She wanted to, a force inside her compelled her to accept his offer. But her heart was broken, and she didn’t know if she was ready to enter what used to be Jason’s home so fast after he was buried. At the same time, maybe she didn’t have the nerve to say no to such a kind person. “I--,” she hesitated, “okay, I’ll have some tea.”

Aged 18, mid-August.

“I don’t know what to do, Alfred,” her hands fiddling with the necklace Jason had given her long ago. “It feels like I’m at a crossroads and every sign points to the direction my heart doesn’t want to go.”

The old butler poured her mint tea - her favorite, as he had learned over the weekly visits she paid him - calmly and firmly as she ranted. “What is holding you back?”

She looked at Alfred, her eyes confused at the question. She hadn’t lingered on the fact of why she didn’t want to accept the scholarship on Metropolis. Her brain told her it was only logical, she would miss her parents, her weekly meeting with Alfred, her hometown. But Alfred was always one step ahead, he had a sixth sense as she had come to learn. “You know,” she replied softly, her eyes lingering on the beautiful teacup in front of her.

He said her name, getting her attention. “Master Jason isn’t here anymore,” he stated simply, laying cookies on her plate, “you don’t have to stay behind for him.”

“I know,” she picked up the spoon and twirled it between her fingers. “But,” she hesitated, not knowing how to phrase her feelings, “Alfred, I can’t even think of it. I can’t wrap my brain around leaving him.”

“You are not leaving him,” his voice was calm and gentle, softening her panic. “You are moving on.”

She shook her head, her eyes shut close tightly. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she whispered, “I feel like I’m meant to be here, Alfred. I can’t really explain it.”

“Well, if you do decide to stay in Gotham, I hope we can continue our weekly teas,” Alfred said, a tone of hope in his voice.

She smiled at him, her eyes filled with kindness. “If I do decide to stay, I’d love to keep our weekly teas,” her smile stayed as she uttered the words. “I appreciate our time together, Alfred.”

“I’m honored,” he said to her, bringing the teacup to his lips.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her and she turned around to see who it was. Turning around, her hand bringing the teacup to her lips, she saw a disheveled Bruce Wayne walking towards her. His eyes were barely opened, prominent bags under his eyes cast a shadow on his features. His tie hung untied on his neck, his shirt over his pants, the sleeves folded up to his elbows. It was a stark contrast from the Bruce Wayne she had seen at Jason's funeral, two years back, the one she saw frequently splattered on the news front pages.

“Oh,” he stopped on his tracks, his hands falling limply to his sides. His jaw tensed and, suddenly, a mask fell on his face, the vulnerability he displayed a few seconds before gone. He wasn’t anymore Bruce, a guy who had just woken up and wanted something from the kitchen of his oversized home, he was the Bruce Wayne, now. The velocity of the transformation haunted her. “I didn’t realize we had visitors.”

She rested the teacup pack on the counter, and got up from the stool. “I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne,” she muttered, extending her hand, introducing herself. “I am, was, Jason’s friend.”

“Yes, yes,” he nodded, “I remember you.”

Alfred looked pointenly at Bruce as pulled a mug from a cabinet. He poured coffee for himself, and leaned against the counter next to Alfred. She stood there next to her stool, paralyzed in his presence. Everytime she was present in Wayne Manor, Bruce was either too busy to ever grace them with his presence, or away on some business trip she never bothered to ask what for. “We have weekly teas, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, his tone laced with something deeper than announcing their weekly traditions.

Bruce’s jaw tightened somehow and his blue eyes rested on her. Her eyes drifted to her teacup, her tea getting cold. She was itching to grab it and drink it, but she felt uncomfortable even moving a inch from her place, much less feeling the liberty to resume her previous behavior. “Really?” his eyebrows shot up, his head tilting slightly. “Please, seat, pretend I’m not here.”

She hesitated before sitting back down. Her hands hugged her teacup, the warmth of it seeping through her skin. It was hard to pretend he was not there next to her, looking at her with judging eyes. She wondered if he remembered her from the funeral, if he had thought of her when he was thinking of Jason’s legacy, what his son had left behind. Her eyes looked up at Bruce before quickly darting back down to her tea, “Yeah, I don’t really wanna go to Metropolis,” she whispered, resuming her previous conversation with Alfred. The air in the kitchen was tense and awkward, she couldn’t look any of them men in the room in the eyes.

“I’m certain Gotham U will admit you,” Alfred reassured her, “You’re a brilliant person, they’d be fools to let you go.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her eyes were focused on the tea, like it was the most important thing in that kitchen. “They usually don’t take this long to send the letters, it’s making me nervous.”

“Gotham U, huh?” Bruce chipped in. “What’s your major?”

She looked expantly at Alfred, trying to see if he knew any of Bruce’s intentions. But she often forgot how impassive Alfred was, how in control of his emotions he was, something she lacked. He didn’t show her anything, she assumed he knew of something, like usually. “Applied physics,” she responded, quietly.

“Wow,” Bruce breathed out, “impressive.”

She offered him an awkward smile in return. It was hard to find a response to the reaction of others when they became aware of her major. It was highly uncommon, and usually those who followed that path were men. When people discovered what she wanted to do with her life, they almost always reacted like they had found an unicorn.

“Well, when you do graduate, look for me, I can help you get a job,” Bruce politely offered, his tone kind. She looked up at him for the first time, his expression almost fatherly.

“Thank you Mr. Wayne, that’s very kind of you,” she bored her head, looking down at her tea once again.

His phone rang, and he picked it up from his pocket. Her eyes trailed over to his expression, his jaw once again tense. “You’re welcome,” he replied, feigning happiness and comfort. “If you’ll excuse me,” he left the kitchen in broad steps, his shoulders tense and determined.

That was the first time she came to the conclusion that Bruce Wayne was a strange man.

Aged 22, end of May.

College was an excruciating experience, but finally she had left it all behind. With her diploma in hands, she finally felt a small semblance of freedom, something she had longed when isinde the four walls of her old dorm in Gotham U.

She stepped into the ground floor of Wayne towers, her shoes clicking nervously on the floor. She had made sure to dress properly to meet Bruce Wayne, unsure of what he’d think if she showed up dressed like a broke college student, something that she very much was. It was the mentality of fake it till you make it, aim a bit higher and maybe you’ll get there. She desperately wished she’d get there.

One of the receptionists let her in, indicating the floor in which she should go to. Her hands sweat gripping the folder with her recommendations and her resume, she gulped looking at the elevator intently. Her free hand found its way to the tiny robin gently resting on her neck. She wished Jason was there to help her, give her tips on what to say to his Father to make him glad, and what to avoid doing so that he’d hire her. She could imagine him if she closed her eyes, next to her, barely taller than her, smiling at her wishing her good luck. The elevator dinged, bringing her back to reality. Jason wasn’t next to her, and she didn’t have anyone to give her tips on what to say to her potential boss. She was alone, just like she had been for six long years.

In spite of the hundred floors of the building - quite literally - the elevator ride was fast. When the doors opened, it revealed a small greeting room, with a couple of couches and a tall window illuminating it. She eyed directly in front of her, the double doors with a tiny plaque with the name Bruce Wayne engraved on it. Her eyes lingered on it for a couple of moments, as she walked towards the lonesome couch next to the big window. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the beating heart. She wondered if Bruce was already inside the room, if he remembered what he had offered to her all those years ago, or if he had just been polite and did not plan on following with it at all.

After that strange meeting with him four years back, she had barely seen him again. A couple of times she had seen a shadow passing through the corridors while she was heading out of the Manor, someone she assumed for the sake of her mental health it was Bruce Wayne and not a ghost. The notion that he was a strange man only intensified, adding the perception that he was hiding something. She knew he was a good actor, but she could see tiny cracks and slips, an ability gained from years of loneliness. It was hard to say what it was that he was keeping a secret from everyone, but there was something there.

Her name was called and she saw Bruce Wayne standing underneath the frame of the double doors that lead to his office. She got up promptly and walked towards him, her grip on her folder tight. His hand was extended and she shook it professionally, pretending like she wasn’t panicking inside.

“I have someone I’d like for you to meet,” he stated, guiding her inside his office. The office was probably four times bigger than the small room she had stayed previously, the large windows providing a beautiful view from Gotham. You could almost pretend it was a normal city looking out from that window. “This,” he motioned to the man sitting on a cozy nook in the back of the room, “is Lucius Fox.”

The man was big and well built, his round glasses standing on the tip of his nose. He smiled at her, crinkles forming beside his eyes. His hand found his glasses, taking them off and putting them in his pocket. “Nice to meet you, Miss. mr. Wayne has talked a lot about you,” he stated, his hand extended for her to take it.

She looked back at Bruce, confused. After all, he remembered her and he remembered his offer. She turned back to Lucius and shook his hand, a determined expression on her face. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fox.”

“Lucius Fox is the head of our R&D department, and has agreed to take you as his personal apprentice,” Bruce explained.

Shock overcame her, her eyes wide. She looked between Lucius’ kind smile and Bruce’s stoic stance, unable to believe the opportunity was real. “Really?” she uttered incredulously.

“I have some personal projects and I’d very much need the help,” Lucius explained, calmly. “Mr. Wayne has talked highly of you, I’m eager to see what you’re capable of doing.”

“I--,” she shook her head, trying to get rid of the hesitation, “thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce responded, a small smile gracing his lips. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

Aged 24, April 26th.

The humid air of the cave made sweat drip down her face as she tinkered away with a broken gadget she had designed for Bruce’s night time activities, as she had so dearly called it.

It was a new development, the cave and the capes and the vigilantism. The two years she invested working with Lucius all served a greater purpose to Bruce. She was to be the next Lucius Fox, help provide Batman, or rather Bruce - in her head it was still confusing to assume that the guy who had given her a job was the ‘Dark Knight’ - with gadgets capable of doing everything that his physical capabilities couldn’t. Lucius was old and reaching retirement, and even if he loved his job, he was reaching his limit. She was beyond grateful for his guidance, she had learned so much. But he had left her a fucking weird job. There was no other way to describe it.

The cave was quiet, Bruce had left sometime before, she could only hear Alfred quietly talking to Bruce through the comms and the drip-drip of water falling from the ceiling and hitting the small lake underneath her. She had settled in a little abandoned nook, her tools all scattered on top of her table. She rested the screw driver she was working with on the table, lifting the magnifying lens. She rubbed her face, tired of looking towards the tiny malfunctioning screen.

Her hands remained on her face, concealing her emotions. The robin pendant always felt especially heavy on the 26th of April. It had been 8 years since she had seen Jason, and as pathetic as it sounded, she never really got over the loss of him. They always felt particularly lost, she couldn’t focus on anything other than him, running circles around any problem presented to her. Looking at the gadget, it felt nearly impossible to find a solution to it, her mind foggy with sadness and grief that she could never really shake off, even with years between her and the day he had died.

The knowledge that Bruce kept everything as Jason had left, and even made a little homage to his Robin days in a secret corner of the cave, hidden from view, was heavy in her heart. She struggled to keep her eyes trailed to her task and not at the memory of Jason. She took a sharp breath, trying desperately to sew herself together. It was truly pathetic how much it still affected her, how open the wound still was.

A sharp motor sound echoed through the walls of the cave, disturbing the few bats that hung from the ceiling. A guy built like a fucking brick wall parked his bike on the platform, taking long strides towards where Alfred stood. He adorned a cracked red helmet that glistened in the white lights that illuminated the pathway. His heavy footsteps echoed through, her eyes unable to escape from him. She approached silently, praying that that loose panel near the little stairs that lead to the main computer wouldn’t scratch underneath her weight.

“Where the fuck is Bruce?” he growled, his hands balled into fists next to him. His leather jacket was worn and old, its sleeves bunched up near his elbow, exposing his veiny forearms. The cracked part of the helmet revealed his blue eyes, sparkling in a familiar way. It tugged her heartstrings, her hand instinctively went to her robin. It couldn’t be, Jason was dead.

“He’s on patrol, Master Jason,” Alfred said calmly, his eyes trailed to the screens in front of him. Alfred acted like this man’s fits of anger were completely normal.

Her brain repeated that it wasn’t Jason, it was a mere coincidence that this man’s name was the same as her dead best friend’s. Jason was a tiny and scrawny kid, he wasn’t tall and thick like this man. Jason wasn’t bitter and prone to anger fits, even if he was angry most of the time. He was silent and kind and sweet, this man looked to be the opposite of it.

“He promised, Alfred, where is he?” he growled, his fist slamming on the table. “He fucking promised.”

“I’m sure he’ll arrive soon, if you’d like to wait,” Alfred motioned to the medical bay, the gurney sitting there on its lonesome. The man huffed, marching to the gurney, otherwise ignoring her presence a few feet away.

She approached Alfred quietly. “Who was that?” her voice laced with curiosity and fear.

Alfred looked at her serenely, knowing something she didn’t. He smiled at her, teh crinkles around his eyes appearing generously. “Why don’t you find out?,” he responded to her camly.

She took it as an order, and made her way towards the small infirmary area. Her footsteps were light and determined, her hand clutching the robbing resting on her chest tightly. Her brain ran over scenarios on how likely it was that this person had almost every physical attribute to her best friend Jason, if he had taken steroids for the past 8 years. It wasn’t likely, but in light of her new knowledge, of how close the supernatural was to her, it was very much possible.

“Do you want me to take a look?” she asked quietly, shifting the weight from her heels to the tips of her toes. She felt so small in his presence, something she didn’t feel with Bruce, oddly. Maybe it was because Bruce didn’t give off such menacing vibes when he was near her, or maybe it was because her brain was unconsciously comparing this man to her Jason, who had always been smaller than her. “At the helmet, I mean.”

He eyed her surgically, analyzing everything about her. His eyes rested on her pendants, widening slightly in recognition. It took almost everything in her to control her beating heart, to control her brain trying to say that in fact that man before her was her Jason, and it wasn’t her brain playing tricks on her.

He gently took his helmet off, revealing his crisp black hair cooly laying on his forehead. His eyes focused on the helmet, his arms extended to give it to her gently. Her eyes would leave his face, a face she had longed to see for eight excruciatingly long years. His eyes had remained the same, after all: kind and sweet. His face, however, told a story of hardships and pain, hardened by whatever he had been through all these years. She didn’t know how to feel, if she should feel betrayed he hadn't trusted her enough to say that he was alive, that he was six feet under anymore, or if she should feel elated that Jason was alive and she could finally tell him all the things she wanted to.

Her fingers brushed him slightly, as she picked up the broken helmet from his hands. His hands still felt the same, her heart noticed, picking up a beat. She looked at the crack that exposed half of his face, the electrical parts fizzling dangerously. Her eyes focused on Jason once again, her lips shut painfully. The tears that came to her eyes were inevitable, trembling fingers reaching at her robin pendant, clutching it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he shook his head gently, “it’s not your fault.”

She could see he wanted to touch her, but something held him back. She wouldn’t find out what until much later.

Aged 24, August 16th.

Jason had promised her he would show up, and he never broke his promises. That was what she repeated to herself, late at night. She had prepared everything for his birthday, bought a present for him and baked a cake. She had said that he was supposed to appear at seven. It was well past midnight, the cake had found its way back to the fridge, the present was back in her closet, and he hadn’t showed up yet.

A part of her kept telling her to give up, her best friend had stood her up: Jason changed fundamentally, he wasn’t the same boy he was when she met him and it was foolish to hang on to that notion; it was perfectly plausible that he had the habit of breaking promises now. But she was well aware of that, she saw it in the tiny things how much Jason was transformed, it still didn’t change the fact that she knew he valued loyalty above all else, and that included loyalty to his words. He wouldn’t break his promise to her.

She changed out of the cute dress she was wearing, feeling foolish and sad that she was about to give up most of the hope that he would show up. Her pyjamas welcomed her comfortably, a safe space to let the heartbreak settle on her. He won’t break his promise, she repeated mentally, he won’t. The mantra did little to soothe the growing dread inside her, the notion that maybe she didn’t know him as well as she did. That he didn’t tell her everything that day, that he didn’t trust her anymore. It hurt more than she anticipated.

Sleep was almost consuming her when she heard a loud clang outside her bedroom. She shook awake, throwing the covers off her instinctively. Her hand grabbed the baseball bat that rested beside her bed, bringing it up and close to her. With slow steps, she approached the window. Her fear settled when she saw the familiar red helmet staring back at her, begging to let him in. She dropped the bat on the floor, opening the window.

He got in her room awkwardly, struggling to pass his huge frame through a tiny space. She reached to help him, offering her hands. He took them, butterflies running amok on her tummy. “You’re late,” she commented, trying to mask the hurt in her voice.

“I know,” he said, taking off his helmet and dropping it on top of her bed. “I’m sorry.”

She hummed looking at him underneath the moonlight seeping through her window. She hadn’t gotten used to how big he became, and how smaller she felt in his presence. She was by no means a small woman, but his entire being could encapsulate her with a simple hug, and not the other way around like it used to be. “Why are you late?” she moved to sit on the bed, the helmet rolling off the bed delicately.

He looked at her, sitting down next to her gently. “I don’t know,” he answered, rubbing his hands together, his elbows resting on his thighs.

“Why do I feel like you’re not being honest with me?” her head tilted, looking at his beautiful profile. There was a scar connecting his right temple to the corner of his upper lip, and it made him even more beautiful than he already was. He fascinated her to no end, his brain, his looks, his entire being was what made her keep going, the light on the end of her tunnel.

His eyes trailed over her face, looking for something she guessed he wouldn’t find. “Why are you always so nice to me?”

“What do you mean, Jason,” she breathed out, confused at the inquiry. “I’m your friend, I’m supposed to be nice to you.”

“No, you’re not,” he shook his head, his hands balled into fists and his eyes closed. “You’re not supposed to be kind to me,” he got up, his back towards her.

“Stop it, Jason, you’re scaring me,” she whispered, her voice shaking a bit.

“You’re supposed to be angry at me. I abandoned you, left you alone, and when I came back I didn’t tell you, I didn’t look for you,” he continued, trying to manipulate her emotions.

“Why are you saying these things, Jason, they’re not true,” she got up, her voice no longer shaking, determined and focused.

“Because I don’t deserve it,” he turned to her, his eyes tortured and sad. “I don’t deserve your kindness and friendship. I’m not worthy of it.”

“Jay, I--” she started, but Jason interrupted her.

“Don’t, please. I’m not worthy of anyone’s love,” his voice was heavy with emotion. She discovered that Jason was often ruled by two main emotions: sadness and anger. In that moment, she could only see those in him and a part of her broke.

“That’s not true, you’re worthy of mine,” her voice was so honest and raw, it caught Jason by surprise. She didn’t know what he expected out of her at that moment, maybe to give in to his spiral of bad thoughts and self flagellation, but she refused to let him believe those awful things. “Jason, you really don't know?”

He remained in silence, his eyes wide and shocked, focused on the ground. His jaw was tense and his hands balled into fists tightly. She took a hesitant step towards him, reaching for his hands. They relaxed under her touch and she threaded her fingers through his. It wasn’t hard to notice how perfectly they fit with each other, like to halves of a whole. “I’ve loved you ever since I was 14 and you marched into the boys bathroom to get my lit homework back from Mason Anderson,” she whispered, her eyes focused on his face, while his were focused on their hands together. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it, Jay. But I can’t let you believe all those horrible things you said. Not when I love you more than anything in this world.”

He stayed silent for a couple of moments, her heart beating erratically inside her chest, fearing she had screwed up their friendship for good. In a way, it was worst to know he was out there and didn't want to speak to her because she dared to tell him about her love for him. “Please say something,” she begged him quietly.

His eyes finally found hers, his hands breaking the link they formed. He rested his hands on her cheeks gently, and she dared say, lovingly. Her heart started beating excitedly, the fear slowly dissipating as his gaze got more intense.

His lips brushed against hers, her eyes fluttering closed at the contact. He kissed her gently, a love delicate and fragile, just acknowledged between them both. His grip on her was firm, his thumb grazing delicately on her cheekbones. Her hands thread through his soft hair, still slightly humid from the sweat caused by the helmet. The air was charged with want, tentative kiss toeing the line between what it was and something more.

She wished to stay like that forever. She prayed to whatever was out there in the Universe, to allow her that happiness. To stay kissing her love tentatively in the dark for as long as she could, as long as he’d let her.

Jason broke the kiss, his forehead resting on hers. His fingers found their way to the back of her head, cupping it softly. “I love you,” he whispered, his lips almost brushing with hers. She reached for his lips once again, like a magnet finding its match. “I love you so much,” he reassured.

They kissed once again, not intending to break apart any time soon.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine

250 notes · View notes

dokifluffs · 4 years ago

Text

Head Pats | Akaashi, Hinata

Pairing: Akaashi X Reader (gender neutral), Hinata X Reader (female)

Genre: comfort fluff!!!~~

Author’s Note: i’ve said it so many times but OH TO BE Y/N !!! hinata;s is actually kinda angsty ngl sooo ah ha ha

Warnings! implied time skip. No spoilers for Akaashi but spoilers for timeskip hinata!!

Head Pats | Suga, Atsumu

gif from @rivaillerose 💛💛

Akaashi: NOTE - R/N is restaurant name

“I don’t know this.. I don’t know this…”

Panic

It was all you could feel in ever bit of your soul as your heart sank after reading question after question, skipping the ones you didn’t know

But doing this only brought you to the end of the test where you didn’t know anything

Panic

Everyone progressed through their exam in a timely manner and here you were

It felt like you were the only one who wasn’t moving their pencil in the slightest bit

You stared at the words on the test paper before you, all the pencil sounds surrounding you — you felt like such a failure

Like all the hours you spent, all the effort you put into this course, and maybe others, were all for naught

You took a deep breath as you gathered yourself, pushing through your exam

As you took it, some questions were actually fine, majority was alright but they all made you feel uneasy with your answer, making you doubt everything

Sitting in this lecture hall, how grand and tall it was yet here you were, so small. This room used to be filled with your professor’s voice yet here it was — silence

“Time. Pencils down.” Your professor’s voice cut through eh silence like a blade. “Close your packets, slide them into your envelope and pass them down your row. Students at the end of the row pass the envelopes down.”

The shuffling of papers and whispers made your head dizzy, your heart trembling as you closed your final exam

You were done

It was finally over

“All tests are in, you are all dismissed. Have a great summer break!” your professor smiled

Everyone gathered their belongings, chatting amongst themselves as they shook the professor’s hand on the way out

“It was great to have you in class Y/N,” your professor smiled so kindly as he shook your hand one final time. “Have a great summer!”

“You too, professor,” you forced a smile but as soon as you stepped out of the lecture hall, you could hear all the complaints from your classmates as they complained about the test

“I honestly gave up bro, like I didn’t know anything” a guy commented freely as he walked toward the exit

“Bruh I know like I remember him teaching the material but that was it.”

Hearing all the comments sort of like this eased you just a bit but just knowing that you were going to see such a bad score

It made you sick to your stomach, making everything feel wrong

The warm summer sun welcomed you as you stepped outside of the hall

You felt so miserable, all you wanted now was Akaashi, his hand to pat your head and to shoo everything you felt that made you feel so stuffy

“Y/N,” a voice called

The sound of this voice brought tears automatically to your eyes before you could even look up to see the owner of this voice

Your body seemed to move on its own towards your boyfriend as all the emotions and tears that had built up within you during your exam came rushing out

he smiled to you as if nothing was wrong in the world when everything felt wrong

he wore black jeans with a white shirt and navy blue cardigan with the sleeves rolled up

You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into his chest and shoulder

“Oh, Y/N, was it that bad?” He stroked his hand on your head

“Mmhmm,” you nodded, stifling all your cries and whimpers the best you could but you knew it was already too late - you could feel how swollen and stuffy your nose were

“I feel like I didn’t know anything and it was so frustrating and depressing to just sit there.” You buried your face into your palms, trying not to break down even more when all you wanted to do right now was to disappear

“I’m sorry, but it’s over, alright?” Akaashi rubbed your shoulders as a way to comfort you as he smiled at others passing and staring at what was going on but he could also hear the others complaining about the exam you had just taken

“Y/N?” he leaned down, carefully parting your hands from your face, smiling once you opened your eyes to him. “I brought you these since I know I haven’t been able to really support you properly while you were studying.”

he handed you a bouquet of your favorite flowers

your lips trembled even more as you cried tears of something else from his loving gesture

“What’s wrong now?” he laughed as he rolled down his sleeves, using them to dry your face, a sound so pure from him, it made life feel alright

“N-nothing, I’m just so happy to see you,” you lowered your head down once again only for akaashi to wrap his arms around you, kissing the top of your head

“negativity begone,” he repeated the words in between every kiss as he gently rocked the two of you side to side

“Come on, let’s go to R/N, hm? We can talk about anything you want and we can do anything you want now or after, okay?”

Bonus:

your sniffles felt like they were never going to end as you sadly drank your drink, letting it refresh you as Akaashi adored you from across the table, happy that your tears and sadness and frustrations from your exam were no longer

The restaurant was empty as cars whizzed by outside

your heart sank hearing the email notification from your professor

upon opening it, your soul left your body as all the tears you thought you were done shedding came bac for round two

“Y/N! What is it?” Akaashi’s brows knitted together as he had never seen you so emotional before

you couldn’t even begin to speak or try to - all you did was show him your phone

“Hi all, I know this semester was very tough but you all know how much I care about the class. This final exam was not an actual exam nor will I actually be giving one. As for your final grade, I have based that on today’s attendance so everyone will be passing. Have a great summer.” - your professor

it was unbelievable but all your worries for the last couple of hours were for nothing

Gif from @rivaillerose 💛💛

Hinata: note - pedro is hinata’s roommate in Brazil and he works as a delivery boy to make money

the door shut behind his body, enclosing him into his dark bedroom, the only source of light coming from outside was from the streetlamp and the bustling night market

he leaned back against the cool wooden door as it separated Hinata from the lively atmosphere of the rest of the house as Pedro watched One Piece on the TV

the floor made a loud thud as his body slid down the door, disappointment filling him up as he thought about what had happened

the new wallet Natsu had gifted him before leaving to Brazil was nowhere to be found in his fanny pack as he ran his deliveries

for once, the human sun didn’t feel so bright

he signed as he looked to his dark room, bits and horizontal lights from the street casting onto his wall through the blinds

the street lift bustling on the street right outside as usual

a sinking feeling felt like it was only getting deeper and deeper inside his chest as he hugged his arms with his knees, a cool breeze from the floor brushing his legs

he really screwed up losing his precious wallet

he had never felt so dumb

his groans and sighs filled the room as he sat in his pool of self disappointment, slowly sinking deeper and deeper

until his phone rang

it rang with his bright ringtone, lifting the mood instantly since this particular ringtone was dedicated for you

everyone had their own ringtone in his phone

and it was like a breath of fresh air when he sighed, grateful he didn’t lose this today

He opened the flap of his case, his face suddenly illuminated by the device in hand

“Shoyo!” you beamed, your bright aura illuminating through his screen even into the darkest places within him, eradicating as much negativity as you unintentionally could

“Y/N, hi!” he beamed, almost completely forgetting his major bump in the road

“How are you doing? How was your day?” you asked, the sun shining on the side of your face from what he could see on his phone

you were clearly still in bed but then again, you did just wake up

“It was alright...” he tried to smile, trying to be okay but there was just something deeper about this hurt inside as it pooled

even talking to you - when you would almost always heal him, right now, he couldn’t feel too much of it

“I uh, lost my wallet today, so that’s bumming...” he rest his phone on his bed as he held it up with his hand, his chin resting into the side edge of his bed

“oh no, the one Natsu gave you?” you asked, hoping it wouldn’t be too serious. “Could you like call the police station and ask if they find it or if it like turns up?”

“No.. it’s not like back home...” he sighed, clearly dejected

your thoughts scurried as you thought of alternatives, thinking of ideas that you could possibly suggest to help him find it

“How’s home? how’s everyone doing?” he asked, his voice light and soft, airy as if he had just woken up from a nap, his question reaching back home, back to the place he longed the most

where he wished he could be right now...

“shoyo, lean forward,” you smiled warmly, able to see his somewhat lagged, pixelated face through your phone

“what?” he asked confused

“just bring your phone to your head. Im gonna pat your sadness away even though I can’t really do it how I normally would, but better than nothing.”

He did as you asked, bringing his device to his forehead, feeling the warmth of the screen, feeling the breeze from his cracked windows open, letting his imagination take flight, imagining it was you that was here with him

you sitting on the edge of his bed, patting his hair, playing with your tangerine as you normally would, his head resting in your lap

“shoo shoo,” you cooed, silly, hoping this would help in the slightest

he could hear the pat of your hand over your phone’s mic

but there was just something

this sudden hit of the real life that was his right now

he was so far from home in a foreign country, chasing his dream when so many others his age right now would be at school, planning a career and their future for themselves

and you

you were so far

his family, his friends, you, god you

his nose sniffled as subtle rumbles sounded in his ears, his eyes blinking, widening with every blink to hide the sudden pink in them, the tears lining his waterline

he kept his phone to his head, subtly seeing the glow of his screen through his closed eyes, wishing you really could reach through the phone or at least he could just be back home soon

but there was quite a great time before this could happen and he knew it vividly

“shoyo? You okay?” you held your own phone, turning onto your side so the sun no longer shined right into your eyes

there was just calm breathing from his end before an airy “mmhm..”

“Tsuki got promoted at the museum and I’m gonna be going out with Yachi later today, and then Yams is gonna join us..” you paused, still not seeing his face

“We’re all doing okay, sho. So is Natsu and your mom,” you chimed cheerily for him. “They miss you just as much but don’t worry. You’re gonna be home before you know it and I just know you’re going to blow everyone away with how much you improved.”

“I know you will, Sho. All the time you’re spending there will pay off..” you paused. “Even Kags thinks so, haha. We hang out together sometimes and he pretty often goes off about how you better be ready to go against him cause of your guys’ never ending battle.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” and that was when you finally saw him.

he smiled brightly with tears streaming down his cheeks, dripping off his chin

these words

your voice

this is what he needed

he needed this more than anything to satiate the homesickness that grew within him every single day

he needed to remember these words - that you and everyone are supporting him all the way across the world

bonus: from Chapter 371 - On The Other Side Of The Globe (vol 42/54)

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

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bestofbucky · 4 years ago

Text

Spoilers

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Platonic!Avengers x Reader

Word Count: 892

Warnings: Swearing, implied smut, humour hopefully, does not contain any actual spoilers.

Summary: The Avengers want to know what has got you so mad.

Stomping into the room you dump your bag on the floor. The loud noise causes a few heads to turn in your direction but you ignore it. All you want is a cup of tea to calm yourself down.

Clint traipses in behind you, his eyes cast downwards at the floor but a hint of amusement is shown in the upwards curve of his lips. He stays out of your way as you aggressively open and slam cupboards.

By now every conversation has come to a halt and all eyes are on you.

‘I’m not a fucking museum exhibition, stop staring and carry on with your lives.’ You grunt at them all continuing to loudly make your tea until you hear your name being called softly.

‘What?’ Looking up you see them all still staring at you.

‘Everything ok?’ Steve asks you hesitantly.

‘Does everything look ok to you?’ you grumbled.

‘No it definitely does not.’ Sam chuckles under his breath causing Nat to hit him round the back of the head.

You stop everything and scowl at Sam, you slowly walk around the counter and make your way over to him.

‘What did you say bird boy because I’ve got a few choice words I-’

‘Woah! Hey, let's take a few steps back now.’ Bucky stood up and placed himself in front of you. He guides you backwards until he feels you relax slightly. ‘You want to tell us what happened doll?’ His soft voice is almost hypnotic in the way it calms you but his words just cause you to think about the incident again and you clench your fists together.

You pause and glance over at Clint ‘If I tell them are you going to open your big mouth halfway through and spoil it?’ Clint can’t hold back his laughter as he raises his hands in surrender.

‘Come on, tell the group. What did Legolas do?’ Tony jokes.

‘Well.’

‘Here we go.’ Sam smirks and you lunge at him ready to attack, only to be held in place by Bucky who gives you a stern look.

‘I’m on the edge of my seat here, tell us what happened.’ Wanda’s soothing voice convinces you to try again.

Taking a deep breath you continue, ‘Clint and I were talking about movie night.’

‘Ahh yes, I do love this little tradition of yours. I have to admit I try to time my visits here so I can partake in this event.’ Thor interrupts but you know better than to try any sort of attack on him so you settle with a death stare.

‘With all due respect, it has been exactly two minutes and thirty-three seconds since you two came into the room and we are still unclear on what it is that has angered you.’ Vision interjects and you roll your eyes.

‘In other words let the woman speak.’ Bruce exaggerates and your heart warms at how sweet he is. However, It’s not long before the irritation overtakes you once more as you think back to what happened.

‘As I was saying.’ You glare around the room only to be met by smirks and amused faces, riling you up further. ‘We were talking about movie night and Clint asked me what film I was going to pick. So I told him I was thinking about picking Titanic. I was bout to say that I haven’t watched it but blabbermouth over here decided to interrupt me and spoil the fucking movie.’ You glare at Clint who just laughs.

‘What, did he tell you the boat sinks?’ Rhodey pipes up and you feel your heart rate start to increase, none of them can help the smiles that start to form on their faces or the chuckles that escape their lips. If it was anyone else standing in your position then you would probably find it hilarious, you knew they were winding you up but there was nothing you could do except let them.

‘You know that movie has been out for over twenty years now?’ Natasha teased intentionally adding to your frustration.

They all continue to joke about it between themselves, adding onto what each other say and driving you to the edge.

‘You can all go to hell.’ You can’t take anymore, you shoot daggers at them all but your face softens when you look at Bucky, ‘except you, you support me right?’

Bucky takes a moment to glance around the room, he notices everyone’s amusement and seems to make a decision in his head. ��Baby if you made us watch Titanic we would already be in hell.’ He laughs and that’s the last straw, you storm out the room giving them all the finger as most of them are on the floor laughing.

‘Don’t get me wrong I’m glad you joined the joking but, that's your girl?’ Sam chuckles, still recovering from Bucky’s response. Bucky simply shrugs his shoulders.

‘What can I say, angry sex is the best.’ Bucky laughs as he ducks away from the pillows and various objects being thrown at him. Each Avenger making their own comment. Sam’s ‘you dirty dirty dog,’ being one of the loudest. One small item comes flying at his face from Natasha’s direction and he sends a wink her way after realising it's a condom before finally turning around and hurrying after you.

Taglist: @vampirewithbedsidemanners @townwitchbitch

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years ago

Text

LOVE IS STRANGE

PAIRING: Poe Dameron x reader WORD COUNT: 1.9k SUMMARY: The union of Ireca and Mohash may seem a typical cliche of love in comparison to your depressingly lonely state, but when a certain poster boy pilot emerges during the celebration, you wonder if love works in other underlying ways. A/N: I found this in my google docs, first written about a year ago. so, wohoo i present to you my first ever poe dameron content, i think? he's so charming and carelessly beautiful. please leave a comment and tell me what you think or what else you'll like to see from me 💖 gif by @john-seed from this gifst WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and getting drunk, space swearing. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

Love is strange. Delicate yet fierce. So forceful that it manages to seep through the cracks created by bombs and gunfire of war. Unexpected at times, appearing out of nowhere. Yet, it’s beautiful because it brings those with beautiful hearts and minds together, entangled in the constant dance of intimacy and devotion.

It’s what Ireca and Mohash have.

Ireca was from the Logistic division, a mechanic herself and your colleague. She was to be married to her long-time lover, Mohash, a flight engineer for the Cobalt Squadron. As far as cliches go, wartime love falls along the lines of a romance cliche. Yet, war was all you’ve known. It’s what everyone has ever known. It’s common to develop some kind of a feeling other than the constant emotions during battle—fondness, the feeling of falling in love with someone. It’s truly what we stay alive for.

Maybe that’s why you hate it so much. The absence of the feeling that everyone describes as so fucking amazing that it completes you. You feel empty most of the time. It’s definitely the reason why you put all your effort into fixing things you can rather than complicated problems and issues that continue to reside in your mind, especially in the wake of midnight.

You find yourself sitting by the makeshift bar, tucked away from the crowd of friends and colleagues. There’s music playing, the sound of drums, and the seven-string hallikset reminds you of your brief visit to Naboo three cycles ago. You’re nursing a warm cup of something that tastes closer to acid water than alcohol.

Ireca emerges from the crowd with flowers in her braided hair. She approaches you with a bright smile and calls out your name wistfully. You shoot a strained smile her way, feeling the bags under your eyes weigh a little more. “What are you doing here all by yourself, huh?” she asks, leaning against the bar with a gentle pat on your shoulder.

“I’m just really tired. Last night was rough. Plus, I’m behind schedule.” you sighed heavily, running your fingers through your hair. She flashed you a smile of sympathy as you continued, “I’m sorry, Ireca. Don’t let me ruin your night. Go, have fun.”

She raises an eyebrow as you take another sip from your cup.

"Go. I'm sure you don't want to miss Mohash's special performance." You gesture to a drunk Mohash, who seemed to be searching for the woman. Ireca merely laughed. "Oh, it sure is going to be special." With a gentle touch to your back and wave, you watch her make her way into the swarm of bodies. You're left alone once again.

You’re still trying to figure out how Mohash even got hold of any sort of alcohol and managed to smuggle it into the base. Someone must have nicked it during one of the previous missions in the Mid Rim.

You rub your eyes, half-awake at this point; your cup is placed beside you as you rest your head against your folded arms on the table. Your mind is in a daze and incapable of irrational thought, deciding it would be best to just camp out here, by the makeshift bar, for the night. You were too tired to drag yourself all the way to your quarters, which felt like miles away, in the first place.

As sleep began to weigh heavy upon your eyelids, you suddenly felt a sharp tap on your shoulder. A soft groan escaped your lips as you shifted your head, still resting on your arms, just enough to peek at your sleep intruder.

It’s Poe Dameron. Commander and Black Leader. Incredibly talented, confident, and effortlessly handsome.

Ugh, you hate this guy.

Yet, you don’t feel so tired anymore.

“Are you drunk?” There’s amusement in his voice with a tinge of mockery. It made you realize the stun you were pulling. Classic Dameron. It was supposed to be a happy ceremony, but it was truly Ireca’s fault for manipulating you into coming tonight. Parties, events, and social gatherings were never right up your alley. You prefer spending time with machinery and your greasy hands.

Poe’s eyes are gleaming under the fluorescent lights, filled with concern, but you spot the smugness in his emerging smile. A flash of a thought, you kind of want to feel his lips on yours. The image immediately stings. You want to gag.

Poe is irritating, arrogant, and careless. Not charming. Nope, definitely not charming.

You straighten yourself, trying to shake off the burning image, shoving it to the back of your head. You lift your head, propping your elbow on the table and resting your chin on the heel of your hand. “You actually think I’ll even touch that bantha shit?”

Tearing your eyes away from Poe, you reach for your cup only to realize it was empty. He casts you a look. Your eyes shoot daggers with an extended pointer finger his way, “Don’t you dare say anything, flyboy.”

Poe raises his palms in defense, lips pursing. “Wasn’t going to.”

You catch a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, one hand discreetly reaching under his tawny leather jacket. Then, a bottle of Corellian whiskey emerges, shining under the lights of the Resistance hangar. Your face lights up at the recognition of the bottle, memories of your rare trips to Corellia, sharing whiskey drinks with your colleagues. It was the only planet you’d been to ever since you joined the Resistance.

You’ve only tasted Corellian whiskey once because of how expensive it is. You’ll happily get drunk to that in a heartbeat. Drink the worry and sorrow away with the lingering taste of frankly exorbitant whiskey.

Like a child with grabby hands, you reach for the bottle, but as your fingers brush his, Poe quickly lifts it to the air and away from you. He smacks your hand away. You whine, feeling a little lightheaded. The contents of the mysterious drink are starting to kick in.

What the blinkin' mradhe muck was in that drink?

“What do you want from me? It’s not like I have a drinking problem.”

He’s giving you that look like he’s judging you, but with a hint of amusement at the slight tug of the corner of his mouth. “You definitely have a drinking problem, but... i'll let you drink this on one condition.”

“For kriff’s sake,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, glancing away. “I’m not doing any weird wacky favors for you, Dameron.”

He scoffs, expression bewildered. “Hey, I don’t ask for weird wacky favors,” He articulates his words with a defensive tone, index finger stretched to your face. You simply smack it away as Poe clicks his tongue and continues to clarify his proposition. “All I’m asking is for you to fix my ship.”

Your wide-eyed gaze flies to him, shaking your head furiously. “Oh, no, no. No. Never in a million cycles. Never in a million millennials. Nuh-uh—”

“Hey, quit being dramatic. It’s a simple job.”

Your eyes grow even wider, voice raising. “A simple job? You fly that ship of yours like we have hundreds of spare ones. I’m not putting all my time and effort into fixing a lost cause.”

“But you haven’t even—”

“No. I’m not fixing your ship, and that’s final.”

Poe blinks and you’re back to fussing over your empty cup. The chatter of the crowd grows louder as a group of pilots of the Cobalt Squadron began rendering verses of an unknown traditional drinking song to your ears. You steal a look to only find Ireca and Mohash amidst a dance, tangled in each other's arms.

He eyes closely, noticing the turn of your lips, trained eyes deem melancholy. He knows the face of a loner very well—usually recruits with lost family and homes. They enlist in a mass community of freedom fighters for the restoration of good in the universe, and to finally feel a sense of familiarity and belonging. He doesn’t know much about you but he knows you don’t truly have anyone to depend on but yourself. It’s the reason why you’re constantly fierce.

Poe clears his throat, shifting closer to you as he watches the way you carry your gradual gaze to hold his. They then flit to the space between the two of you, raised eyebrows acknowledging the weird close proximity of his presence to yours.

“Look, you’re the best mechanic there ever was and probably ever will be. So, fix my ship, and you get to have this Corellian beauty. All of it.” He sways the bottle in the air, but you don’t look at it.

“You know, that’s bribery.”

“Yes, and it’s working.”

You scoff. “No, it isn’t.”

Poe laughs. “Yes, it is. I can see it in your eyes.”

Another scoff, you look fully aggravated. “How dense do you think I am?”

“Oh, very, but let’s not get into that.”

Bickering was the only language the two of you spoke fluently when you found yourselves tangled in a conversation with one another. Thrown insults were spoken lies—saying you hate each other when you know that isn’t true. Well, at least you don’t mean it and you hoped Poe didn’t either.

You’re exhausted, physically and mentally. For once, kindness and acceptance seem to be the easiest route.

A sigh passes your lips as you blink up to the ceiling, sending a silent prayer for blessings from the Maker above. “You’re right. I am dense. Truly dense. So, yeah. Okay. I’ll fix that stupid X-Wing of yours.”

Poe blinks, dumbfounded. “Wait, really?”

With a roll of your eyes, they meet his very own wide ones. “Yes, really. Only because you complimented me. Now, hand me that Corellian whiskey before I change my mind.”

He then makes a sound that resonates between a cough and a pleasantly surprised laugh, eyes crinkling with delight. Poe happily and absentmindedly passes the whiskey to you, still reacting like your agreement is some sort of object of ridicule in the best way possible.

“Wow—Maker, you have no idea what kind of trouble you’re saving me from. If the General ever found out—man, pfft. Thank you. Thank you so much—”

A swift and unexpected motion, he is reaching you, palms clasp and either side of your face, and plants a quick peck on the side of your left temple.

Poe isn’t thinking straight.

There you are, mid-swig, lips so close to the rim of the bottle with eyes so wide. You steal a steady glance at the pilot whose expression seems to reflect yours. His hands are still on your cheeks. He’s unbelievably close to you and he’s staring with that stupid look of his.

‘Maker, preserve me.’

A cheer erupts from the crowd from across the space and just like that, the moment is gone. Whatever the moment even was. His touch is no longer on yours and his gaze shifting away.

The tension, however, is still very present.

You finally take a swig of the whiskey, wanting to ease the sudden tightness in your chest. You hum at the stinging sensation on your tongue. You catch a glimpse of Poe from the corner of your eye who busies himself with tapping his fingers nervously against the surface of the bar.

Then, in an awkward motion, you stretch your arm to him, offering the drink.

A beat. His gaze shifts between you and your hand. When he finally gives in, a smile curves upon his lips, fingers brushing against yours. They’re delicate and you smile at him. It's small, but it makes his heart skip a beat and you wonder to yourself about the strangeness of love.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron oneshot #star wars

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fairestwriting · 4 years ago

Note

slams open your door/ one angst request for a childhood g/n reader with deuce, ace, jack, ruggie and vil coming right up! "if we're still single by 30, let's get married! (for housing benefits lol)" it was a childish promise made in jest, but the boy never forgot. in the end, it ends with unrequited/pining feelings from one/both sides that cant be returned due to bad timing/prior engagements/etc when they reach of age (go hogwild with the scenarios lis!!)

(slams my hands on the table) yes yes yes yes YES i love this trope

+ if you like my writing, you can buy me a ko-fi to support me!

Deuce Spade

You make the promise to him after you confessed to your crush sometime in 7th grade and got rejected, left to cry by yourself behind the school. Out of all your friends, only Deuce came to comfort you -- And so you, in your dramatic childish glory, feeling like you’d never find anyone to love, tell him the two of you should get married if you’re single by 30.

Deuce remembers every detail of that event down to how your eyes gleamed with the tears, how the light of the sunset casted that golden glow on your hair -- It was when he knew he loved you. It took him a while to find the right words to describe the feeling, but he’d been feeling it for a long time.

He doesn’t pursue you because he feels like he’ll grow out of it. You go to NRC together, the two of you against the world, and it’s like everyday he falls in love a little more. You support him through his attempts of being a honors student, and on the day of your graduation, the first thing you do is hug each other tight, cheering about how you made it, you finally made it.

You don’t lose contact with each other even after school. Deuce and you are basically attached to the hip, meeting up every other week to talk about college and then your jobs. Through all of this time you’re friends, both of you go through a handful of relationships each, but none of them are really serious. As you approach 30, Deuce remembers that promise from back then.

When your birthday comes up, you’re sort of gloomy over recent breakup, and Deuce, naturally, is the first one to be there for you. He shows up in the morning with a gift and makes you breakfast, your dear best friend warming your heart once more. You rant about your latest partner and exchange anecdotes about how last week went before everything goes silent, and suddenly his hand is hesitantly on yours.

“D-Do you remember, um.” He begins, face flushed. “That promise we made in middle school? That if we were single until 30...”

You blink. Really, that? It felt like so long ago -- It was hard to remember even. You can barely catch what he was going to try to say before you laugh your middle school self off, snickering at how naive you were -- Something in Deuce seems to shatter, then, and his hand retracts. It’s so fast you can barely tell what’s happening.

And he stays with you through the birthday regardless, of course he does. He’s your dearest friend, isn’t he?

the rest is under the cut cause... its long

Ace Trappola

You hated Ace, initially. You met in kindergarten and he was the worst, literally. Always pulling pranks on everyone and acting just so infuriatingly cheeky, your 5 year old self learned real rage through that little redhead boy who always hid your things just to get a rise out of you.

One day you decided to prank him back, causing massive trouble in the classroom that ends with the two of you getting intensely scolded, and that’s how, somehow, a beautiful friendship blooms. Ace gets this sparkle in his eyes when you’re done getting yelled at, and says that the two of you should be friends and work together on doing this to other people.

Since then you two became inseparable. You’d never stop bickering, but you also never left each other’s side. The two of you were a menace, an absolute terror to your teachers -- Whether you were a good kid before meeting him or not didn’t matter, Ace is great at being a bad influence.

Near the end of 4th grade, you begin hearing about how one of your classmate’s single parent was getting married again. This sparked a big conversation between your class, somehow, with everyone declaring who they wanted to marry. It was a silly childish thing. When your turn comes, you proudly announce that when you grew up, you’d marry Ace if you hadn’t married anyone else by 30, ‘cause no one else would choose him but me! You snicker after making the comment, amused at how mean you were being, but somehow your snarkiness seems to fly over Ace’s head.

It’s a thing that happens that you two never really talk about again, but it ticks in the back of his mind for his whole life as you two grow up. Even entering middle and then high school, he always remembers it when he goes through some sort of romantic disappointment. You really were the only one who always stuck around, after all...

Years go by and somehow you’re still by each other’s side. Every birthday that passes Ace thinks about it a little more, he wonders if that promise from ages ago was true. When your 30th birthday comes up the promise is constantly in his mind, he’s driving himself up the wall with expectation. And he doesn’t even know why he’s feeling like that, really, you two are just childhood friends, right? There’s no reason for him to be feeling so... like this.

Eventually, he just blurts it out, a couple days after said birthday. You two are probably just hanging out and ranting about work when he goes “Hey, you remember that stuff you said in 4th grade? About, uh, us getting married?” And you go silent for a beat. His heart races as he wonders what the hell he’s doing, even.

But you laugh it all off. What, that stuff about marrying you? Yeah, I was such a dumb kid. I was right, though, look how you’re still single, you joke, and it feels like a punch to the gut to Ace. He laughs awkwardly with you. Yeah, sure, how foolish the two of your were for thinking of something like... you two... being together like that...

Jack Howl

Jack was, before everything, the scary boy in your 2nd grade class. Beastmen weren’t exactly common at school, especially wolves like him, so he ended up sticking out quite a lot. Most kids, your friends included, thought he was far too scary to approach. And Jack himself seemed to be fine with that, not really interacting much with anyone.

That was all he was for you until, one day, an older kid gets mad at you during lunch for bumping into them and staining their shirt with juice. They’re about two or three years ahead and so much taller than you, you’re genuinely scared -- And who would know that in a moment like this, the one kid in your class you weren’t very fond of would stand up for you, convincing the bully to go away.

Afterwards, Jack asks if you’re okay, you two end up eating together, and the rest is history. You find out he was actually really sweet, despite seeming so tough, and you get comfortable with it. Jack was always a reliable, loyal friend, someone you knew you could count on.

This included when your friends started being weirded out by you for getting close to the scary boy in class. They get it in their heads that you have a crush on him and tease you for it, which makes you upset, but Jack stands up for you again. This was enough for you to be pretty starry eyed at the age of 7, so you declared that, hey, who cares about what these mean kids are saying! Maybe you and Jack should be together anyway. Actually, if you two got to 30 and you were still single, you should get married! Jack gets just as starry eyed as you, and you seal a pinky promise that day.

What you never knew, though, was that he wouldn’t grow out of it -- Because as time goes by and you two grow up alongside each other, it ends up slipping your mind. You meet new people and learn new things, getting into some relationships here and there, and though you’d taken the promise seriously for a bit when you were a kid, it was just something you laughed about now.

You don’t even remember it on Jack’s 30th birthday. You’re one of the first people to show up to the small gathering, naturally, you had known each other since forever. You’re teasing him about how he was so perpetually single even now, that you were reaching “marriage age”, and this seems to fluster him a bit.

“Well...” He starts, his ears going slightly limp. “I wanted... to keep that promise, you know. From when we were kids.” His voice is quiet, uncertain. It’s different from how you usually hear him talk, and you have no idea what he’s talking about. You question him about it, and he’s wide eyed when he realizes that you actually forgot.

He questions you about it. How could you forget? You two actually made a pinky promise about it -- But you’re just confused as to why he’s bringing this up, saying that of course it wasn’t a big deal, you two were just kids when it happened! Was he really expecting something from that? And when you ask him that, he’s silent.

Needless to say, the birthday is soured. Jack asks for you to leave, it’s a mess. You don’t know what you did wrong, exactly, just like you’re not sure how you could possibly fix this.

Ruggie Bucchi

“Partners in crime” was the only possible way to describe what sort of relationship you had with Ruggie. It starts in elementary school, you’re walking around in a farmer’s market near the slums and you catch him taking a handful of apples from a stand, without paying. Your eyes are wide as you remember who that boy was, a classmate of yours, and despite what your family had taught you about stealing, you walk up to the person taking care of the stand, and start chatting with them to distract them.

You’re not sure what really made you want to help this boy you barely knew, but it turned out to be the one thing in your life you’re the most grateful for, because the next day, when he sees you again in class, he runs up to you to thank you so many times in a row. And since then, you two started spending time together.

And you got along so well! Ruggie got along with most of the other kids and you had some friends of your own, but nothing was compared to how close the two of you were. You two scheme your way in and out of trouble through your school days, and at one point you can barely imagine your life without him.

Sometime mid 6th grade, your classmates start talking of crushes and dating and such, which gives you a lot to think about. You’re a bit upset that you seem to be the only one who isn’t in on the new fun, so one day, when you’re hanging out with Ruggie, you complain about feeling like you’d be single forever. Ruggie laughs and says that if no one wanted to be with you, then no one would want to be with him either. You still wonder what that meant.

In a fit of childishness, you say decisively that if you two were single until you were 30, you’d get married. Looking back on it, you can’t tell if you were kidding or not, but Ruggie and you shake hands mid-laughs, like you’re sealing a deal.

So time goes by. You don’t think too hard about that promise and Ruggie... doesn’t seem to, either, you actually wonder what’s going through his head often, because he rarely tells you what he’s thinking. You end up going to NRC together, to both of your families’ joy, and that just ends up making you closer, as two kids from the less-privileged side of the Afterglow Savannah in such a prestigious academy...

Your bond ends up really fire-forged after those four years, so it’s no surprise to anyone that you’d still be close even after you graduate, even as adults. Nothing could break a friendship like this.

You think about it on the day of your 30th birthday, when you’re out for drinks with Ruggie to celebrate. Really, how the hell did you stick to each other’s side for so long? You ask him as you loop an arm around his neck, and he grins. “Well, maybe we should get married like you promised then, y’know... when we were brats.” He says, a little quieter than your previous conversation. There’s a hint of some kind of different feeling there that you don’t catch at the time, scoffing at him and going, yeah, in your dreams.

The rest of the night goes normally, though you don’t hear from him for a couple days afterward... and when you do, he barely looks you in the eye. You wonder if anything bad happened, if you did anything wrong.

Vil Schoenheit

When Vil Schoenheit moved into your town, everybody was talking about him before he even really set foot into the classroom. Everyone had seen him somewhere -- The poster boy of villainy in all your favorite movies, a kid with a pretty face and a haughty aura.

You’re as curious as everyone else to meet him, though you don’t really share that strange vindictiveness the other kids seemed to have, angered at Vil himself for what his characters put others through. It’s so stupid, you thought, isn’t he just the actor? He might actually be nice.

When he arrives into the classroom, people are about as annoying towards him as you expected. Their disdain towards Vil bothered you, he’d barely said anything to others and yet they were already pegging him as a mean, arrogant person. So stupid, you repeat to yourself, and you decide to talk to him normally, and that’s how your ages-long friendship came to life.

Vil wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met. You come to find that he’s rather haughty, yes, and very strict with pretty much everything, but he was also very kind deep down, and willing to help you with anything you needed. He was a good friend. He was also, as you came to find out as you grew a little more, astoundingly pretty. With people disliking his “villainy” or not, by the time you’re starting middle school, he already consistently gets confessed to.

You’re a bit jealous. Not because you wanted Vil for yourself, no, he was just a good friend, but you wished people would find you as attractive as they found him, sometimes. You express that to him when you’re walking home together one day, and he laughs it off, saying it wasn’t as good as you thought it’d be. Still, you make him promise that if you were single by 30, he’d have to marry you, because if he just let you die alone, he’d be a bad friend. Vil seems strangely mesmerized by that, but he agrees.

Time goes by, you get to watch each other grow. Even with all the people going in and out of Vil’s life, he seems to keep you closer to his heart than everyone, and you never really lose contact with each other. Even when he’s busy, with movies or modeling or school, he still makes time to check up on you, and you see each other often.

When you’re actually nearing 30, Vil has reached a sort of stardom that burned your eyes just looking at, and you were so goddamn proud of him it was real. Somehow, he still makes time to show up for your birthday, after about a month of not really seeing each other -- And he spoils you to death on that day, the two of you spending all of it together and talking until it was late at night.

As the sun is about to rise, though, Vil’s chattiness subsides. About as sleep deprived as you, he says, softly “So since we’ve gotten there, and we’re both still single... maybe we should fulfill that promise from years ago, shouldn’t we?” You take a moment to process it, it’s tough remembering exactly when you made such a promise, but eventually you do. You feel like that should’ve been a joke, but the way Vil looks at you isn’t saying joke at all.

You sort of laugh it off either way, though. What, that silly promise? You ask, are you rubbing it in that you’re prettier than me? I can still find a partner looking like this, y’know. You think it’s funny, but Vil suddenly falls completely silent.

He then sighs, almost wistful, and says “Sure you can” before the conversation progresses... you’re not sure what happened, but life goes on after that like nothing happened. Deep down, Vil is feeling stupid for having taken the promise to heart, like he should have known better... but if you never really meant it, then what could he do but give it up? Even though it was the thing he wanted to do the least... he valued your friendship too much to do something that could possibly ruin it.

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twst x reader #deuce spade #ace trappola #jack howl #ruggie bucchi #vil schoenheit #deuce spade x reader #ace trappola x reader #jack howl x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #lis writing

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im-auntie-social · 3 years ago

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time for some fic recommendations!

The @jaime-brienne-fic-exchange wraps up in less than four hours so I’m getting these in just under the wire!

Disclaimer/warning/whatever: I did not read all 1.3 million words :( I really was going to try, but it started to feel like homework after a while and these 102 writers deserve a better audience. So I took a bit of a break and as a result I had to triage a bit, choosing to read more but shorter stories. Sorry prolific multichap writers! You’re amazing and I will get there soon! I’ll even try to comment on every chapter to make it up to you! I also still have a hangup when it comes to talking about smutfic (I’m working on it, because it’s kind of dumb, but midwestern quasi-puritan conditioning is a real pain) so there won’t be any of those in my recs. Again, sorry smut writers! You’re great! Also, this is only main-exchange recs, because I haven’t read any of the Lil’ Oathkeepers yet.

And finally, I am reccing a few stories that I’ve been speculated to have written (and I’m not reccing the one I *did* write), so I’m sorry if that gives away too much information? But see also: less than four hours until author reveals. (also can I just say I adore the handful of people who guessed me as a writer-- I don’t even know what my style is but it’s really cool to know that other people do!)

So here we go!

Part 1: Stories aimed directly at my face (mostly metaphorically)

First and probably most obviously: Queens of Love and Beauty (T, 6k, modern AU) is my gift and I love it! Brienne runs a body-positive portrait studio with vintage glamour vibes. The author even threw in a reference to my abiding love for the calming power of spreadsheets as a special treat for me. There’s a wonderful interplay between historical and modern that highlights the contrasts within and between characters that I absolutely adore. It’s all so warm and pretty and it makes me extremely happy. AND THERE’S CORSETS.

Then we have the modern AUs that I didn’t personally request but still hit so many of my favorite things. Funny Way of Showing It (T, 3.5k) features our heroes as academic scientists (be still my heart!), with a wonderful cast of supporting characters as their grad students. It’s told from Pod’s POV too, which is an absolute delight. Unrestrained Summer Fun (T, 4.7k) has them meeting as children when Genna and Cleos rent a vacation house next door to Selwyn and Brienne. I love Brienne and Cleos being friends before Jaime comes onto the scene, and I adore the dynamic between the three of them once he does. Cleos, my boy! The canon stuff is done really well (I laughed so hard at one bit in particular that I don’t want to spoil) and the childhood-summer vibes are pitch-perfect. The beginning of devotion (T, 11k) features Brienne inheriting a decrepit Evenfall Hall and deciding whether to keep and restore it, and as someone working on a project house at the moment, I found this one very relatable. But on top of that, the slowly-unfolding backstory between our heroes is so SO well done, and everything’s woven together in an incredibly satisfying way. And finally, Climbing Mountains (G, 3k) starts with a Mary Oliver quote so I’m already sold. But then it goes on to spin a beautiful story of Brienne’s approach to risk, and how that relates to Jaime, and I am entirely made of heart eyes.

Finally (for this part), a couple of my favorites from the bounty of space-themed fics. As an avowed and die-hard fan of this kind of AU I was so happy to see so much fun genre work this year! And I haven’t gotten to some of the longer ones, so I’m looking forward to that and will rec as needed. It is not in the stars (T, 3k) is a Dune AU that I just felt in my whole body. I haven’t read Dune in ages but it’s a huge part of my genre-childhood and this story really captured the atmosphere. I would have happily read 100k of it, yet at the same time there’s something really magical about the economical storytelling. Absolutely the best use of Brienne’s blue eyes I’ve ever seen in an AU. And finally, I have to shout about show me where my skin begins (E, 41k), one of the only 30k+ fics I’ve read and one of the only E-rated, but the giftee was so effusive about it (and I trust their judgement) so I loaded it up before my long car trip and holy shirtballs folks, it is incredible. I will say that it doesn’t become E-rated until the last chapter, but also the E-rated stuff is incredibly beautifully done. The story takes place in an original space/sci-fi setting and it blew my entire mind. So much creativity, so much fantastic character work, so atmospheric (no pun intended). (just a note: space and/or genre fics seem to be getting a bit less attention at the moment, and while it’s cool to have preferences, I’d really suggest giving them a shot this year!)

More to come in part 2, this time with THEMED SUBGROUPS!

#jaime x brienne #jaime x brienne fic exchange 2021 #fic rec

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secretkeeper13 · 4 years ago

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Flirt

I decided to try my hand at an outside perspective Hinny OC. Just a bit of fluff, some humor (hopefully), and a bit of cringe. I hope you enjoy poor, sweet Craig! Also on Ao3.

The sun shone through the windows of the Three Broomsticks, casting rays of light across the dark wooden booths and tables. The pub was crowded- it was a Saturday, after all, and from the looks of it, plenty of Magpies fans had decided to apparate directly from the match, their black and white jerseys giving the room the appearance of a wonky chessboard. It was still late afternoon, so families with small children were mixed in among the regulars, contributing to the noisy din.

The table his mates chose was near the entrance, and he sat facing the door as he talked and laughed with them. It was strange, being here, all together, the six of them, now that they were out of school. They were still close- it was hard to live with people for seven years and not become friends. Though, he’d heard stories from others who couldn’t stand the people in their dormitories, so they were lucky in that regard, he supposed.

They’d been at the pub for less than an hour, after walking down from Dan’s flat on High Street once the match ended. He’d missed being around his mates every day, and they’d quickly made up for lost time, talking, joking, and laughing as if they were back in the dorm at Hogwarts and no time had passed since they’d all been together last.

“Let’s hear it Craig, got yourself any birds recently?”

Dan’s teasing tone jolted him out of his thoughts. His cheeks colored a bit at being called out.

“Nah, mate, Craigey-boy’s still hung up on Cressida,” Will chimed in, and Craig shot an annoyed look at his flat mate.

“I’m not hung up on her. And I have been out with other girls, you’ve been there. Stop taking the mick.”

Will grinned at him and raised his eyebrow. “Haven’t brought any home though, have you?”

Craig sighed. When he and Cressida split up this summer after seventh year, it hadn’t been on bad terms. She was off to Egypt to be a curse breaker for Gringotts, and he had no desire to leave England, so they’d gone their separate ways. He’d been happy living as a bachelor in London with Will, but he did miss her. Well, he missed the companionship of having a girlfriend, he supposed, trying not to think about her piercing blue eyes, the casual way she would ruffle his hair, or the way she kissed. He’d supposed that being with someone for so long- nearly two years- made it harder to move on. He couldn’t really picture being with anyone other than her.

“It isn’t like I haven’t been trying. You saw me get off with that girl outside the Leaky last month. Wouldn’t shut up about it for days, in fact.”

Will laughed. “Didn’t bring her home though.”

He hadn’t brought her home. She was good looking, but not as pretty as Cressida. And to be honest, she hadn’t been a very good snog either, so really, what was the point?

“Mate, you need to get a leg over. It’s been what, six months now?” Ben asked.

Craig glared at him. They all knew full well how long it had been since he and Cressida split. Ben grinned back at him.

“Well, maybe today’ll be the day,” he shot back.

“To Craigey getting laid!” Will called, and they all raised their glasses to toast him in jest as he flipped them off with two fingers.

Not a quarter hour later, he happened to look up just as a gorgeous girl walked in the door of the pub. She was petite, and wearing a tight turtleneck sweater in dark green, with red hair cascading past her shoulders down to her tits, which were full for her small frame. She glanced around, as if looking for someone, then headed over to the bar. Craig’s stomach fluttered in anticipation. This could be exactly what he’d been waiting for.

“Next rounds on me,” he said to the table, gesturing over to the bar, where the girl stood. Her position at the bar meant that her back was to their table, so they couldn’t see her face, only her long, shiny red hair. She was wearing tight, tan trousers tucked into brown boots that came up to below her knees, and she had a fantastic arse, he noted.

Will made a low whistle and nodded in appreciation.

“Go get her Clarke,” Dan said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Craig stood up and walked over to the bar. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair. He was nervous, and a bit tipsy, as they’d cracked open the firewhisky as soon as they’d arrived at Dan’s place. He took a breath to steady himself, then he sidled up next to her at the bar.

“Packed today, isn’t it?” he said, trying to sound casual, as if he chatted up fit girls all the time.

“Yes, by the looks of it we’re in for a bit of a wait,” she said, looking at the lone barmaid and the patrons stacked two deep up and down the long bar.

“Well, in that case... I’m Craig. Craig Clarke,” he said, extending his hand and giving her a boyish grin.

She looked surprised for a second, but then she took his hand and shook it, her hand small and warm in his.

“Pleasure to meet you, Craig,” she said, smiling. She exuded confidence. Her eyes were a lovely shade of warm brown and seemed to shine in the afternoon light.

He was so captivated by her that it was only later that he realized she’d never told him her name.

“Do you come here often?” he asked, and as soon as he said it, he inwardly cringed at the obvious line.

Her lips turned up into a small smile, almost like a smirk, he thought.

“Not since I was in school.”

“Oh, I went to Hogwarts as well. Just finished last year. Hufflepuff. What house were you in?”

“I was a Gryffindor,” she replied, and her smile got broader and more impish, making his heart beat faster.

She wasn’t in his year, or he obviously would’ve known her. There was something oddly familiar about her, though- like he knew her, but couldn’t place her. She must’ve been a year or two ahead of him. Maybe he’d seen her in the corridors. He wouldn’t have forgotten a face like hers if he’d met her properly, of that he was certain.

“I didn’t know many Gryffindors outside of my year. Dated a Ravenclaw though. Spent far too much time in their common room, unfortunately.” He was rambling like an idiot, he thought, but unable to stop himself. And, why, why was he mentioning his ex? Her smile was dazzling and it was too much, almost like looking directly into the sun.

“You and me both.”

“Swotty lot aren’t they?”

She laughed, a silvery tinkling sound, and her nose crinkled up a bit, which was adorable. He was smitten.

“I don’t normally come up to Hogsmeade either anymore, but one of my mates in my year works for Dervish and Banges, and we all came to his today to listen to the Montrose game.”

“Over quick, wasn’t it? Their new seeker had quite the debut.”

“You follow Quidditch?” he asked, delighted, though it was clear she did. She really was perfect, this girl.

“In a manner of speaking,” she said, almost coyly, and that smirk had returned.

“Which team do you support? I’m a Puddlemere man myself. Muggle born, so I got into it late. Brilliant sport though.”

“Harpies, through and through.” She bit her bottom lip, as if to keep from smiling wider. Her coy looks were driving him mad.

He wanted to keep the conversation going. Hopefully, he could work up the courage to ask her out.

“I live in London now. I work for the Magical Menagerie, caring for all the animals there. What do you do?” he asked. Perhaps she lived in London too. Maybe they’d know some of the same people, and he could invite her out with a group of his friends.

“Well, I’ve just had a bit of a career change. I’m a correspondent for the Prophet now.”

“Do you like it?”

“I just started, but yes, so far I do.”

“Well good luck with the change. My mate Will,” he gestured over to the booth where his friends sat, “just went through the whole career change bit. He took a job at the Ministry in the Department of Transportation right out of Hogwarts. His Deputy Head was a real stickler- impossible to work for, everything had to be just so- you know the type. He only lasted four months before he managed to get a transfer over to International Magical Cooperation. He likes it much better there, thankfully.”

“Yes, I definitely know the type,” she said, and her right hand covered her mouth as she seemed to suppress a giggle. He wasn’t sure what was funny about his comment, but he didn’t much care so long as he was making her laugh.

“Oi, Clarke, what’s taking so long? You getting our round or what!” his friends heckled him from the table.

“Come off it, it’s packed,” he called back, but they were all clearly engrossed in some drinking game they were playing and just ribbing him.

He turned back to her. “Sorry about my mates. Bunch of blokes together, you know how it is.”

“I’m very familiar, trust me.” There was that smile again, so coy.

“What’ll it be love?” the haggard barmaid asked as she finally reached them.

He turned to her and smiled. “What would you like? It’s on me.”

“Oh,” she said, looking apologetic, “I couldn’t possibly, it’s really alright.”

“No, I insist, you’ve been such good company, let me buy you a drink.”

“No really, I-“

“Oh come on love, let him buy you the drink. I don’t have all day. Bars two deep right now,” said the barmaid, looking extremely exasperated.

“Just a butterbeer for me please,” she said to the barmaid, and then he placed the order for their round.

“Craig,” she said as the barmaid walked away. God, he loved the way his name sounded when she said it. “Listen, you’re very kind, but...”

“Mum-Mum! Mum-Mum!”

A baby, maybe a year old, babbling nonsense, appeared on her other side in the arms of a tall man wearing a baseball cap. The baby grasped her long hair, the smooth copper strands peeking through his tiny fist. He had thick, dark hair that stuck up in the back, and big brown eyes. Eyes that were exactly the same shade as hers, Craig noticed.

“Oh, Jim-Jams,” she cooed, taking the baby from the arms of the tall man holding him.

He was confused. Surely, she didn’t have a baby? She was probably only a year or two older than he was. Maybe a nephew, he thought.

The man who handed the baby to her was holding a knapsack over his shoulder and looked a bit frazzled. “I’m sorry we’re late to meet you, Gin. Didn’t expect the game to end so quickly. And then, on the way out, I turned my back for a half-second to grab more floo powder to refill the tin on the mantle, and he crawled into the loo, pulled himself up, and was splashing his hand around in the toilet. Had to give him a bath, didn’t want to chance a charm with that.”

She winced, then chuckled. “I told you he’s getting fast! And it’s alright, don’t worry. Neville’s not here yet either. He sent me a patronus that he’d got tied up with something. He should be on his way down now.”

Craig’s confusion grew. Who was this Neville? He hoped it wasn’t a boyfriend she was meeting.

“Mum-Mum!” the baby said again, as he settled on her hip, breaking into a wide, four-toothed smile.

She beamed down at the baby. “Hello, James. Mummy missed you, cheeky little monkey.” She reached her left hand up to stroke his cheek, and he noticed, for the first time, her wedding ring.

At this, the wheels, which had been turning far too slowly in his head, finally clicked into place.

He felt his face flush with complete embarrassment. He’d just been trying to chat up a married woman- the mother of a baby, for fuck’s sake. Well done, Craig . She probably thought he was a complete cad.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said to her, his words rushed and incredibly apologetic. “I didn’t realize, I had no idea...”

She held up her hand and smiled at him. “It’s alright, you were very kind, really.”

“Gin, I think I see Neville on his way,” the man said. The man (her husband, Craig corrected himself, groaning inwardly at his absolute stupidity in failing to realize this sooner) was looking out the front window, onto High Street. Craig hoped he’d missed their exchange.

The man turned back to face their direction, his round glasses catching the light. He looked at Craig with a bemused expression. Dark stubble lined the man’s jaw, and black hair was visible under the cap. He looked a bit like Harry Potter, Craig thought, thinking of the Witch Weekly poster Cressida had of him for ages. Quite a lot, actually.

Then, realization, followed immediately by absolute horror, washed over him as he looked back at the red-haired woman.

Ginny Potter. He’d been trying to chat up Ginny Potter. The star chaser for the Harpies, whose poster had hung above Ben’s bed in the dormitory since fourth year, for fuck’s sake. How had he not realized it? Ginny Potter, who’d been on the cover of every newspaper for months when she’d decided to retire because she was having a baby. Harry Potter’s baby. He’d been hitting on Harry Potter’s bloody wife for the last five minutes.

His jaw was agape as he stared at her and tried to form words. He probably looked like a giant goldfish, he thought.

“You’re...” he gulped, still looking at her, his cheeks on fire. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t recognize you. I’m a bit drunk, you see. And I thought you were maybe a year or two older than me, not...” he trailed off, feeling like a complete idiot and wanting nothing more than to disappear.

She laughed, but it was genuine and not unkind. “Don’t apologize, it was refreshing, actually. Gives me hope for an anonymous future,” she said, and she winked at him. He felt his face flush even more.

He turned to the man, to Harry Potter, he corrected himself. “Mr. Potter, sir, thank you. I’m Muggleborn and started at Hogwarts a year after the battle. Wouldn’t have been able to go without all you did.”

God, he was babbling like an idiot. The baby was more coherent.

Harry Potter shifted a bit and looked uncomfortable at his praise. “That’s very kind of you to say. But I had loads of help, it wasn’t just me.”

“Daaaa,” gurgled the baby, who now had his hand on Ginny Potter’s breast, patting it happily. Craig immediately tried to look anywhere else. His face was even redder, he was certain. He stared at the bar top as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

Just when he thought his humiliation was complete, he heard a familiar voice.

“Hullo Harry, Ginny. And James! Merlin, he’s grown! Getting to be a big boy now, aren’t you?”

Craig looked up into the round, smiling face of his favorite professor, who was pretending to shake the baby’s hand as the baby gurgled and laughed. Oh, how he wished the day would end.

“Hello, Professor Longbottom.”

“Clarke! How’s the Menagerie going? I’ve missed your N.E.W.T. class this year more than I can say.”

“It’s going well, sir. I’m actually in charge of preparing all the food for the creatures- we’ve got a small greenhouse off the back, so I’ve been doing some growing myself.”

Professor Longbottom looked pleased, but then he asked the question Craig was dreading. “Craig, have you met Harry and Ginny Potter?”

“Oh, erm, yes actually...” he stammered, unable to think of how to politely phrase that he’d just tried to chat up Mrs. Potter because he thought she was fit and didn’t recognize her.

“Craig was kind enough to keep me company while I waited for Harry to arrive,” Mrs. Potter interjected. He shot her a grateful look.

“Drinks, loves.” The barmaid returned with a butterbeer and six glasses of firewhiskey.

Craig paid her and turned to Mrs. Potter to hand her the butterbeer.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him, as Harry Potter put his arm around her waist.

“Rosmerta’s saved us the back corner booth,” Professor Longbottom said, glancing to the empty booth tucked away in the far corner, away from the bar and the tables, “We’d best be off before these two are recognized by anyone else.”

“Goodbye, Professor, Mr. and Mrs. Potter,” he said, nodding to them. “Enjoy the afternoon.”

“Goodbye Craig,” Mrs. Potter said, smiling at him, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “And if you wouldn’t mind not mentioning it to anyone else that Harry is here, we’d appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding, just wanting the whole thing to be over.

“Bye-bye,” said the baby, waving unprompted at him. Great, even the baby was having a go at him, Craig thought. Mrs. Potter laughed delightedly, and Mr. Potter exclaimed, “Clever boy, James!” They turned and walked off towards the back corner booth.

When they were gone, he finally exhaled, and slumped against the bar. He motioned over Will to help him carry the drinks back to the table.

As soon as he sat down, he began to gulp his firewhisky in earnest, wanting to forget that the horribly embarrassing incident had ever occurred.

“So what happened, mate?” Dan asked.

“Oh, erm, turned out she was married. Talked to her for a few minutes before I saw the ring.”

“Tough luck,” said Will. “Didn’t get a good look at her face, but she was fit.”

Craig nodded, still drinking. “What are you playing?” he asked, eager to change the subject, and then he threw himself into their game of 21, wishing for all the world that he and Cressida had never broken up. Not just because he missed her, which he did (he finally admitted to himself)- but because if they hadn’t, this never would have happened.

An hour and a half and more firewhisky later, Craig was feeling pleasantly numb. Some of the mortification had subsided, at least. And then suddenly, he looked up, and she was there, alone, standing next to his chair.

“Craig, we’re heading out, but thank you for being so kind earlier. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flattered.”

“Oh, erm, it was nothing, really,” he said, feeling himself blush and wishing he could sink into the stone floor and disappear.

“Rosmerta will be over in a mo’. The next rounds on me, boys, enjoy yourselves,” she said to the table, before giving Craig a wink and a wave. Then, she turned, walked out the door, and disappeared with a pop before the door swung shut. His friends immediately turned to him.

“Was that?!”

“She’s bloody fit she is. Even better than in photos.”

“Damn, Harry Potter is a lucky sod.”

“Wait, you tried to chat up Ginny Potter?!”

“I didn’t recognize her!” he moaned, putting his head in his hands as his mates erupted into laughter. God, he would never, ever hear the end of this.

As his friends began to tease him in earnest (and really, he couldn’t blame them), Craig swore to himself that he would never try to flirt with some random girl at a bar again. He’d be single forever over ever reliving the humiliation of what happened today. Or maybe, he would write to Cressida tonight. Yes, he would write to her as soon as he got home.

#hinny fanfic #fluff #cringe #sweet himbo #poor craig #ginny weasley is hot

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qingxintea · 4 years ago

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➼ chongyun || hiraeth

tw: mention of knives (no violence), kidnapping, explosion _______

you angled your camera to catch your face and upper body correctly and adjusted your blinds for the correct lighting. you put thin pieces of yellow and pink paper over your lamp to give off a sunset lighting sort of aesthetic in your minimalist room. your tiny cacao tree sat in the corner of your room, setting some sort of simple beach vibe.

then, you began to stream.

you watched as majority of your followers came to view as you sat in your rolly gaming chair. the greetings came rushing in and you noticed two of your friends had came along too, xingqiu and chongyun.

"hey gang, it's kingexplosionmurder here with your weekly sunday stream," you smiled and watched as comments came in asking you to notice them. beginning to select randomly, you flicked a short strand of hair behind your ear. "you have been noticed, yourlocalsugardaddy," you blessed them. and you swore you chose randomly.

on the other side of the screen, chongyun's face slightly flushed before eating his popsicle again. yes, that was his username, selected by xingqiu after the guhua heir was somehow able to trick him into selecting so. the situation must've been that he accidentally consumed some jueyun chili's, that was also xingqiu's doing.

he watched you smile as you explained your schedule for this stream, when he noticed you suddenly began laughing. it sounded genuine, he wanted to believe it was genuine, but there was a trace of disappointment in it. he observed your face, noticing you were looking at the chat box. "i agree too, scarymoose."

scarymoose: this streamer's kinda dog shit ngl 😐

by instinct, his fingers grazed over the keyboard as he analyzed the tone. this kid wasn't joking around with himself, he was really out to bring you down. he exhaled, shaking his head, wondering how you would deal in the situation.

yourlocalsugardaddy: miss karen this isn't yelp 🙄

he wasn't content with that yet, things could've gone onto more serious matters, but he knew you liked to keep your chat clean and peaceful. you went to the farther extents to keep that from happening, agreeing with rude comments yourself as a said joke, but actually have it sometimes harming you.

so chongyun tried his best to keep you happy.

redrumreaper: yo moose chill 😳

he recognized his friend xingqiu also trying to calm the situation as you just laughed it off and attempted to continue, sooner enough just beginning to ignore all his comments. some other viewers came up to your defense but in all honesty, you wanted to move on.

"s-so, i found some silk flowers outside of wangshuu inn yesterday, aren't they pretty?" you took a tiny bouquet of the said silk flowers and presented it to your viewers, holding it next to your cheek. the pink tone of the flowers matched the color of your cheeks and made for a nice picture. chongyun would've screenshotted it, but he respected your privacy.

yourlocaldumba$$: yes they're so pretty we love you 😍

13lue13erry: yes ong ong 💕 thiccer than my granny

Straw13erry: don't bring madame ping into this 💀💀

colino: are you sure it's alright to take from someone's legally owned property ?? much less from their garden

Straw13erry: u mean ur neighbors don't harvest ur flowers every day? 🙄 privilege spoke 🤚

yourlocalsugardaddy: vv pretty 😳

redrumreaper: simp 💀

you slightly choked over on your side and xingqiu calling chongyun a simp, for you. quickly clearing your throat, you regained your composure. your viewers could see that your cheeks had been dusted with a darker shade now.

13lue13erry: 👀

Straw13erry: 👀

yourlocaldumba$$: 👀

redrumreaper: 👀

sireluck: 💀

bazinga: 👀

dandelionn: 👀

poetichoe: 👀

"okay- anyways," you pushed that aside, watching the chain of 👀's coming in. you weren't too sure at what they were referring to, but just assumed that they were interested in xingqiu exposing chongyun. but, there was no way chongyun really felt like that, right? it was just a friendly compliment from what you believed. "just a tiny flex but y'all guys, i am so cracked at apex, not gonna lie. for all the new followers out there," you randomly commented. 'and to change the subject.'

"actually, you know what? fuck the schedule, let's go to trolling little eight year old kids posting selfies on instagram. due to certain reasons i'm just not gonna be blurring their usernames out, but please don't spam these people, i don't wanna be cancelled 💗" you sweetly smiled as you pulled up instagram and started streaming on your phone.

of course your sus notifications ruined it 🤡🤡

because xingqiu took advantage of the situation, sending messages to your discord. nothing mentioning your romantic life because he knew better than that, but just trolling. 'HEY GANG. ITS ME, TONY, AND TODAY WE'RE GONNA SEE IF IM FASTER THAN THIS MOUSE TRAP.' 'TURNS OUT, I AM NOT FASTER THAN THIS MOUSE TRAP.' 'AN UPDATE, IT HURTS. ALRIGHT. BYE GUYS.' you tried hard to contain your laughter, but certain giggles came out in the end, giggles that made chongyun's heart flutter.

xingqiu just kept spamming without a stop, to the point that you accidentally clicked into the notification instead of someone's username on a selfie post. so now everyone could see your group chat with xingqiu, chongyun, and a few other viewers that were actually your other friends.

13lue13erry: oh no 🤡

Straw13erry: 🗿

yourlocaldumba$$: HAHAHAHA WE'RE EXPOSED 🤡👌

just water support boy 😔: image.png

oh my god he's sending chongyun catboy edits. you made this concerning noise, glad no one really seemed to know who chongyun really was on twitch. you went back to instagram, beginning to dm a random kid, ignoring the situation that had just happened.

chongyun choked, slight heat running to his cheeks. what the fuck was xingqiu doing- how did he even get those pictures? maybe it was that one time xingqiu forced him to go to a furry con, but how did he ever get the time to photograph these? he nervously fidgeted and played with his fingers.

13lue13erry: 🤡

Straw13erry: 🤡

yourlocaldumba$$: 🤡

redrumreaper: 🤡

<— oraoraoraor

kingexplosionmurder: chav check

oraoraoraor: what

kingexplosionmurder: chav: check 😹😹

oraoraoraor: bruh

oraoraoraor: who tf are you

kingexplosionmurder: hope you like baddies cause i'm bad at everything 💗

oraoraoraor: bruh ok i'm blocking