#empty and indifferent. thats all i feel towards this situation. towards your situation

[s0urte3th]

empty and indifferent

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

Hi can I request a peter parker x barnes-Rogers reader (steve and Bucky's daughter) and me and Peter find out I'm pregnant with Peter's baby and we try to keep it a secret but everyone is suspicious of us cause I've been really poorly lately and Peter is being overprotective and one day Peter accidentally says "don't do that it could hurt the baby" or "and everyone freaks out and me, Peter and my dads have a long talk but everything is fine thanks xx

Unexpected

Pairing: Peter Parker x Barnes-Rogers! Reader

Requested?: Yes!

Word count: Almost 7k

Warnings: Pregnancy, some angst but thats it I think?

Author's Note: Yessssss this was so fun to write! Very excited to be back to posting on this page again. Thank you so much for the request! Hope to start adding in more content soon, so if yall have any requests feel free to send them in! And if you have requests sent in already, know that I love you and I will be getting to clearing out my inbox here pretty soon 🥰

Taglist: @just-that-bi-girl , @winterfrostsarmy

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

In retrospect, the entire team should have realized what was going on with you a lot sooner. To their credit, most of them had noticed that something was different about you, but other than Nat and Wanda none of them had a guess as to what exactly that was. 

The men appeared completely clueless in respect to the cause of the recent changes in you. Even Clint, a married father of three, hadn't caught on even after he'd seen you leaving the bathroom having clearly just thrown up. Tony had been the closest to figuring it out of the all men, having noticed your odd mood swings and crying fits as they became more and more frequent. He noted the same behavioral pattern as he'd found himself stuck in after the Battle of New York, and secretly worried for your mental well-being. He hadn't felt comfortable enough to broach the topic with you just yet though, instead opting to watch you from a distance for the time being. 

The women, however, seemed to understand almost instantly what was going on. Nat had figured things out once she realized that you had been skipping training lately and noticed that you and Peter barely appeared to leave one another's sides for even a moment. Wanda based her guess almost solely upon the fact that she could just feel that something was different about you; your entire energy had changed in the last few weeks and she noted it even before Peter had. Both women had their suspicions, but had seemingly agreed to keep their thoughts to themselves until you were ready to tell the team what was going on. 

Your dads were a different story altogether. 

It took Steve and Bucky much longer to notice something had changed with their daughter, Steve longest of all. Either you'd done a great job of avoiding your Pops or he'd been incredibly unobservant (or more likely both), but he hadn't seen anything that he would've considered out of the ordinary for you. 

That is, until today. 

"AAAAUUUUUUGGGGH"

Steve was on his feet in an instant, sprinting into the kitchen at the sound of your enraged scream. He skidded to a stop and surveyed the room with a trained look for the source of danger, but found none. In fact, you and Sam were the only two in the space as far as he could tell. Sam's back was pressed snugly against the furthermore countertop as you practically cornered him, the older man clearly caught off guard by your sudden burst of rage. You flung your hands around wildly as you yelled, one gripping a box so tightly that your knuckles were beginning to turn a concerning shade of white.

Completely bewildered, Steve watched in stunned silence for moment as you fumed and screamed expletives at the slightly-terrified looking Sam, without any clear indication as to what had happened. 

"I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE YOU, YOU GODDAMNED ASSHO-"

"Y/N Barnes-Rodgers!" Steve scolded you finally, momentarily stopping your verbal assault. "What in God's name is going on here?" 

Your eyes turned to your Pops' briefly before flickering back to glare in Sam's direction. 

"Pigeon-brain ate the last of my oreos," you seethed, walking forward and jabbing an accusatory finger to Sam's chest, his hands instantly flying upwards in surrender.

 Steve felt his jaw drop in utter disbelief.

“You-,” 

“What’s with all the commotion in here?” Bucky interrupted, striding into the kitchen much as Steve had moments ago and joining his husband's side with a confused look on his face. Steve crossed his arms and frowned at their daughter. 

“Apparently our daughter is screaming at Sam because he ate her cookies.” your Pops explained tersely.

“Not cookies, oreos,” you muttered, glare never wavering from Sam. You furiously threw the offending empty package roughly at his still bewildered face in lieu of another expletive. Sam was evidently so bewildered, in fact, that he didn't even flinch as the box hit his head and bounced pathetically to the floor. 

Bucky raised his eyebrow. 

“And that’s why you’ve been screaming like that?” he confirmed. You nodded, arms crossing your chest stubbornly. 

Bucky shrugged, looking towards his husband with a look of indifference. “Makes sense.”

“No, it absolutely does not make sense,” Steve lightly scolded, glancing at Bucky with a pointed look before returning his gaze to you. “Y/N you’re completely overreacting. Apologise to Sam right now.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you gaped at your dads with an expression that was equal parts betrayal and rage. 

“No.”

“No?” Steve repeated incredulously. He stared at you with disbelief, looking between you and Bucky like he was hoping he’d somehow misheard you. You met his glance with an equally stubborn look as you planted your feet solidly beneath you and tightened the cross of your arms. “What do you mean, no?”

“You heard me,” you spat, unwavering. 

Sam merely looked confused as he watched the two of you argue, if albeit still a bit scared, but Bucky was sure his shock was evident on his face. You never back-sassed your Pops, not even when you were really angry, and Bucky only felt his disbelief grow at the prospect that your attitude was all due to a few cookies. 

"Y/N, you don't get to tell me no," Steve ground out carefully, voice stern with a rare sort of parental authority he seldom had to use with you. In fact, Bucky was pretty sure he hadn't actually heard him use this particular tone since way back when you were a toddler testing the limits of your dads' patience. But unlike your three-year-old self, you didn't back down at your Pops' disapproving tone; in fact, you met his intense stare with a flippant roll of your eyes, deepening your dad's shock at your abrupt behavioral shift. 

"He fucking knows what he did, everyone knows those oreos are mine," you snapped, eyes alight with a kind of fury the likes of which your dads had never seen from you before. 

"Language!" Steve gasped at his daughter, his authoritative tone giving way to a spluttering one of complete disbelief. 

"FUCK OFF!" you shouted instantly. 

"HEY!"

Bucky had officially had enough. Irritation blossomed deep within his chest at the hurt he saw wash through his husband's eyes at your vulgar screech. Teenaged angst was one thing, but it was entirely another to blatantly disrespect Steve like you were. He still didn't know what was really causing you to act like this--because no way in hell could this be all over some oreos-- but he'd definitely passed the point where he even cared. 

"Doll, that’s enough. Clearly you're upset, but you cannot speak to your Pops like that," he practically growled. You turned your attention to your dad with the same kind of indignant irritation in your eyes, a flash of fresh anger rolling across your face at the sight of Bucky's equally irate expression. 

"You can fuck off too," you spat.

 Bucky's jaw clenched dangerously, the muscle in his cheek jumping and twitching as he took in his daughter's crass retort. Sam had long since left the scene, the nearly suffocating tension officially too much for him to take. Steve's eyes went wide for what felt like the millionth time since he'd first walked into the kitchen. If he hadn't known something was wrong before, he undoubtedly did now. 

You may not disobey him often, but you never snapped at Bucky. 

Steve had long since accepted that, though you loved the two of them the same, you'd always liked Bucky more. A daddy's girl from birth, you and Bucky had always been inseparable-- so for you to now scream and curse at him like this was like a flaming-red flag in Steve's mind. 

Something was definitely wrong. 

"Excuse me?" Bucky hissed. The two of you faced one another, arms crossed and expressions grim. You planted your feet even more solidly underneath you, staring your dad down with a fury so intense it was almost palpable. If it weren't for the overall tension of the situation, Steve might've teased the two of you for your near-mirrored positions. 

"Y/N? What's going on, I thought I heard yelling?" Peter asked as he practically skidded into the kitchen. He immediately joined you, face morphing into a look of utter concern at the sight of yours and Bucky's standoff. Steve braced himself, mentally apologizing to Peter for the verbal assault that was surely coming his way. 

But it never came. 

It was as if all the unwarranted anger was sucked from your body in a rush as soon as you caught sight of your boyfriend. Your face crumpled into an anguished expression, and Steve could see how the tears welled up in your eyes instantaneously. Peter clicked his tongue in pity and you thrust yourself instantly into his awaiting arms. He gripped you tightly, and you eagerly buried yourself further into his embrace. Face smashed tightly against his chest, you began to sob uncontrollably.

Your dads gaped at the scene, wide-eyed. 

"S-sam ate my oreos a-and now everyone's mad at me, and I j-just wanted my snack!" you all but wailed, voice muffled by Peter's body. 

Bucky blinked once as he turned to his husband, total confusion written all over his features. Steve just gaped in response, unable to formulate a semi-coherent thought, let alone words. 

"Oh angel, it's okay," Peter cooed softly into your hair, hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly as you continued to cry. "I can go and get you more oreos; don't cry Y/N/N, I'll just run down to the store right now to get you some."

Lifting your head from his chest, you seemed slightly placated and hopeful as you sniffled and looked up at him. 

"C-can I come with you?" you asked him shyly, tear-stained cheeks turning a slight shade of pink at your childish request. Peter smiled fondly down at you, clearly happy to see that you were feeling better. 

"Of course, it'll be nice to walk with you," he smiled sweetly at you and lightly kissed your nose. You giggled as you removed yourself from his embrace before walking over to your dads. 

"M'sorry I shouted daddys. Love you guys!" you apologized in a chipper voice before kissing both of the men's bewildered cheeks. 

The two supersoldiers both stood in stunned silence as they watched you leave hand in hand with Peter, who briefly shot them an apologetic look before the pair were gone. Steve thought he heard Peter mumbling something to Y/N as they left, but the only words he could pick out were "not good to get so worked up", which only confused him further. 

"What in the hell was that?" Bucky grumbled, face still crinkled with bewilderment. Steve simply shook his head. 

"I have absolutely no idea. I've never seen her behave like that, have you?"

"Nothing like that, but she was acting funny the other day too," he frowned, recalling the scene he'd walked in on just a few days prior. "She was full out sobbing on the couch a few days ago over a toilet paper commercial."

Steve gaped at his husband. 

"Sh-she...what?"

"Doll have you seen your Pops? I can't find him any-"

Bucky's question died in his throat as soon as he hit the threshold of the TV room. You were curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees as sobs racked through you. Peter sat next to you with his eyes crinkled in concern and hands rubbing gently at your shoulders as you cried. 

"Y/N what's wrong, why are you crying?" Bucky asked. Feeling his protective instincts kick in instantly,  he couldn't help but search the room with his eyes in search of any danger. Finding nothing, he narrowed his eyes at your boyfriend.

"Did he do something?" Bucky demanded. "Parker I swear to God if you hurt her I-" 

"What? N-no I didn't do anything Mr. Bucky I swear!" Peter spluttered, eyes widening in fear at the terrifying look in your dad's eyes. 

"Bullshit, then why's she crying like that? Of course you did someth-"

"N-no it's not P-peter dad!" you interrupted tearfully. "There was an ad on TV that just made me emotional okay? You know, the one with the boy crying in the bathroom and his dad offers him toilet paper for his tears?"

There was a beat of silence. 

"Doll, you really mean to tell me that you're sobbing over a toilet paper ad?" Bucky asked, brows furrowed in disbelief. You sniffled as you nodded, and fresh tears began to pick your eyes once more. 

"Yes! I mean it's just so inspiring," you blubbered. "I mean how often do you actually get to see a teenaged boy cry on TV? Never, cause toxic masculinity standards in this stupid patriarchal society we all live in say otherwise! And not only does the dad accept that his son is crying and is allowed to feel real emotions, he sits down to talk with him about them! I just got so happy thinking about all the little boys who will see this ad and feel the validation that they're normal for feeling sad every once in a while!"

Bucky just stared at his daughter with a blank look for a moment; he looked like he was unable to formulate a single response to the information he'd just been given. 

"Well that's...uh….that's great I gue-"

"I can't believe you would just assume that me crying just had to be because of something Peter did," you interrupted, angrily brushing the leftover tears from your face. "It's so unfair, you always blame him for everything!"

"I-uh," Bucky stammered, flustered by the sudden change in your emotions. You scoffed and stood quickly from your spot in Peter's embrace, crossing your arms petulantly. 

"It's true dad, you're always looking for something to yell at him for! It's so biased and unfair," you practically yelled. "Honestly it's such prejudiced bullshit. Some kind of outdated 'lock up your daughters' rhetoric that I can't believe yo…"

At some point during your impassioned speech you began stomping away from both your dad and Peter while still ranting. As your shouts became fainter and fainter Bucky found himself directing his dumbfounded expression at Peter instead. In a rare show of solidarity with your boyfriend, Bucky silently begged for an explanation as to what on earth had just happened. 

Despite the way his heart was hammering wildly in his chest Peter remained silent. He offered only a passive shrug to your dad before he clambered to his feet and began following after you. If Bucky hadn't been caught so off guard he surely would've been suspicious at the visible sweat that was beading on Peter's forehead and the way the young boy's hands trembled as he quickly left the room, the question of what was causing your mood swings laying thickly unanswered in the air. 

"What the fu-"

"She...a toilet paper ad? Really?"

"Yep, a friggin' toilet paper commercial," Bucky nodded solemnly. Steve blinked once, shaking his head. 

"So what did you do?" he asked incredulously. 

"Nothin'," Bucky shrugged. "She was so damned worked up that I figured she needed some space, and by the time I went to talk to her she'd already seemed completely fine. Thought it wasn't worth upsetting her all over again."

Steve snorted. 

"Yeah right, you were just too scared you would make her mad again," he chuckled. 

"Hell yeah I was," Bucky admitted freely, crossing his arms and shooting his husband a defiant expression. "You've seen her, you know how terrifying she can be when she's pissed!"

Steve chuckled once more, shaking his head fondly. 

"Mmmm, and I wonder where she got that from."

Bucky narrowed his eyes and scowled at the implication, a surly look overtaking his features. Steve couldn't help but laugh outright at the expression on his husband's face; it was the exact same face you always made when you were annoyed, right down to the little pout in your lip. 

"For the last time Stevie, she doesn't get that from me," he grumbled. 

"Sure Buck, whatever you say," Steve laughed. 

Though your odd behavior and mood swings were at least now on both your dads' radar, neither had any clue as to the actual reason for your sudden changes. The pair of them chalked up the incidents to little more than teenaged angst, however they had no idea how wrong they were nor just how soon they were about to find out what was really going on. 

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

"I don't understand Y/N," Steve stated carefully. "Why exactly don't you want to go with the team?"

You shifted your weight from foot to foot anxiously, huffing out a breath in mock annoyance and very real frustration. 

You'd been in the training room, lightly working out with Nat and Wanda when your Pops and Tony had walked in to announce that there was an urgent mission that apparently would require the entire team. Internally cursing your timing, you'd tried to sneak out of the room unnoticed, but as your luck would have it, your dad caught you. Now you were stuck arguing with your dads, the attention and curiosity of everyone in the gym directed at you. 

Your heart was thrumming wildly in your chest as you furiously racked your brain for some way, any way, out of this assignment and this conversation without an actual reason. 

Well, a reason you were actually willing to give, that is.

"Why does it even matter?" you snapped, hoping that no one clocked the tremor in your voice. "It's not like you guys even need me anyways."

"Doll, you always jump at the chance to come with us," your dad interjected. "So what's so different about today?"

"I just don't want to," you whined, lying through your teeth. "I'm tired and I don't feel good."

"But you were literally just training?" Sam pointed out. You narrowed your eyes at him, irritation bubbling under the surface of your anxiety at the contradiction. The older man shrank back a bit under your firey gaze, the previous incident in the kitchen clearly prominent in his mind as he stepped behind Wanda. 

Clint snorted. 

"If you could even call that training," he mumbled under his breath. Your jaw dropped. 

"What is this, gang up on Y/N day?!" you sassed as your arms flew to cross your chest defensively. Your Pops shook his head. 

"We're just worried Y/N/N," he reassured, brows furrowed with concern. "You've been behaving very strangely lately, and this is just one more thing."

"Yeah doll," Bucky nodded, agreeing with his husband. "So what gives?"

Your pulse sped up once more at the direct question, a sickening feeling rising in your throat like bile at the realization of just how suspicious your dads were. Unable to think clearly through your panic, you did the only thing you could think of. 

You scoffed in fake disbelief, rolled your eyes, and began stomping out of the room. 

"Y/N Barnes-Rodgers!" your dad shouted in an indignant and angered tone. "We are not done talking about this!" 

Damn. 

"What?!" you whirled around, stomping your foot like a child. "I just don't want to go this time okay?"

Bucky's face turned red at your open defiance, but Steve interrupted before he could even open his mouth to snap back at you. 

"No Y/N it's absolutely not okay," he scolded. You felt the burn of unshed tears prick your eyes as they searched desperately around the room, mind racing to think of an excuse that would get you out of this situation. 

"But-"

"No, no buts Y/N," your dad barked, clearly having composed himself enough to speak once more. His arms were crossed as he glared at you, and the stubbornly annoyed look on his face was enough to make the tears in your eyes begin to fall. A feeling of utter entrapment and fear settled in your chest like a suffocating weight as you felt the hot, fresh tears stream down your cheeks. 

"Doll, are you crying?" your Pops questioned incredulously. "What on earth is going on with you?"

"Nothing! I just can't go today," you blubbered, past the point of being able to hold back your sobs. 

"You can't go, or you won't go?" Bucky asked pointedly, evidently not swayed by your tears. 

"It doesn't matter," you cried desperately. Your dad's eyes bored into yours directly as if he was searching your brain to find out what you were holding back from him. 

"It clearly does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be acting like this," he continued harshly. "I'm not sure what it is you aren't telling us, but I don't even care at this point. Stark said he needs everyone and your Pops told you to go, so you need to get yourself together and go and get ready."

The tears were now cascading down your face in giant streams and your face was growing warmer by the second. You darted your gaze back and forth between the other team members' faces, still searching for some kind of last minute way out of this situation. Finding only curious or concerned expressions, you turned back to your dads with wide eyes. You felt your mouth go dry as your lips open and closed wordlessly, the severity of your current predicament weighing you down more and more by the second. 

"I-"

"No. I don't want to hear another word from you Y/N," your dad snapped. "Go and get ready for the mission now."

"But she can't go!"

Time stopped for a split second as the entire room's heads snapped towards the desperate shout.

Peter had only just entered the training room, wondering where everyone was, when he caught the tail end of your dad's order. He couldn't help but blurt the first thing that'd come to mind, the implication of which only dawned on him afterwards. As he rushed to your side he shot you a sheepish look, and you internally cringed a bit at his slip. 

Even though you were certain Peter's involvement would only further reduce your already slim chances of getting out of this mission without a full confession of what was really going on, you couldn't help but feel an inkling of relief as his eyes locked with yours. His hand immediately intertwined itself with yours once he'd reached you, and your belly fluttered with a warm tinge of comfort with the simple touch.

True, things were probably about to go sideways for the both of you, but at least Peter was here to go through it by your side. 

"Excuse me Parker?" your dad spat incredulously, eyes blazing with anger at your boyfriend's outburst. "I don't recall asking you for your opinion on my daughter or what she can or can't do."

Peter stood a little taller as he looked Bucky straight in the eyes with an unprecedented amount of determination. 

"She can't go." he practically growled, eyes stern and unyielding as he openly defied your dad. He was standing a half-step in front of you, tense back partially shielding you from the rest of the team as he spoke.

 Even with his face turned the opposite direction you could see from his profile the way his brows were furrowed and how dark his normally chocolate brown eyes had gotten. You felt a slight shiver run up your spine at the fiercely protective energy Peter was radiating, and your heart felt a bit lighter at the way he stood up to your dad on your behalf. You squeezed his hand in an effort to ground him, and he softened marginally as he glanced back at you.

Your dad however looked as if he might combust soon based on the way his eyes bulged out and his face turned a concerning shade of red. 

"What's that supposed to mean Peter?" Steve interjected carefully, his hand reaching up to rest comfortingly on his husband's shoulder. 

"It means exactly what we said," Peter said firmly. "Y/N cannot go on this mission today."

The team watched the interaction between you, Peter, and your dads with their heads bouncing back and forth between the four of you like they were watching a tennis match. Not a word had been uttered from a single one of them, and yet they stood completely transfixed as they waited patiently to see the outcome of the argument. 

"And why, pray tell, is that Parker?" your dad hissed, scowl etched across his features. 

Peter's eyes traveled to yours, irises swimming with a silent question. Realizing that there was no way out, you took a steadying breath as you nodded softly and squeezed his hand once more in reassurance. Peter smiled at you fondly before dropping his smile and turning back to your parents. 

"She can't go because...it could be bad for the baby."

You could've heard a pin drop in the training room. No one made a sound, no one even dared to breathe. The shock in the room was palpable, but you couldn't be bothered to even glance at anyone other than your dads, their reactions the only two that mattered to you in this moment. 

Though you'd expected a rather explosive reaction from your parents (especially from your dad), you were met instead with blank stares. Your dads were simply staring at you and Peter in stunned silence, and their lack of a response actually frightened you more than the screaming you'd been anticipating for weeks now. The beat of silence seemed to stretch on eternally, though in reality it was probably no more than thirty seconds. You watched nervously, your hand becoming sweaty in Peter's as you waited. Finally, your Pops blinked and opened his mouth cautiously. 

"Bad for the wha-"

"I SWEAR TO GOD PARKER THAT'D BETTER BE SOME KIND OF DISGUSTING PET NAME FOR MY DAUGHTER."

Ahhh. There it was. 

Your dad had clearly broken through his frozen thoughts enough to respond, and you would've laughed if you weren't so terrified. He looked positively furious; his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them and his face had darkened from red to an almost purple color that looked painful to say the least. His murderous gaze was hyper-fixated on Peter, and you couldn't help but step in front of your poor boyfriend in an effort to take some of the heat off him. 

Peter, evidently, was having none of that, and he frowned before pulling you backwards and tucking you into his side tightly. If you hadn't been so focused on your dad right now you might've rolled your eyes at his over-protectiveness. Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of his embrace as you took a steadying breath. 

"It's not," you responded as calmly as you could manage while your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your throat. "I'm pregnant."

Silence enveloped the room once more, and you could've sworn it was even more awkward than the first time. It must've been, because you could see Nat and Wanda ushering the rest of the team out of the gym out of the corner of your eye. You weren't quite sure if you were grateful for the privacy or more scared of how your dads would react now that you were alone.

Your dads stared at you and Peter with wildly different expressions. Steve was staring off into space and looking as if he was either going to throw up or pass out soon, and Bucky still looked as if he was about a half a second away from murdering Peter with his bare hands. To his credit, Peter was still standing by your side with the same look of determination as before despite this, but you could feel the way his pulse was hammering through his veins as he too carefully surveyed your dads' reactions.

You stood quietly, trying to be patient as you watched them, but the suspense and anticipation quickly became overwhelming and you couldn't help but blurt,

"Say something!"

Though both their gazes snapped up to your face with your plea, yet neither your dad nor you Pops said anything. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to explain yourself. 

"I know that you're probably in shock or angry or maybe both- and honestly that's completely fair!" You rambled breathlessly. "I know we're still only eighteen, but I really think everything's gonna be okay? Really, I do. And I'm so sorry about today, believe me this isn't how we planned on telling you at all bu-"

"You're not coming on the mission," Steve interrupted, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "Nor is Peter. Your dad and I will be back later, and we're all going to have a long discussion."

It felt like all the air was sucked out of your body as you watched your Pops pull your dad towards the training room exit. You hadn't been fully sure of just how you were going to tell them, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine that it would come out like this. Tears once more welling up in your eyes, your heart sank as you realized just how disappointed and angry they were. 

"I love you," your voice cracked as you called to their retreating forms, unable to bear the sight of them leaving without reminding them. They both paused in the doorway, and without turning back both muttered that they loved you too before they were gone. 

As soon as they left you immediately twisted yourself and thrust your face into Peter's chest, the tears flowing steadily as you sobbed. He wrapped his arms tightly around your shaking form, lips finding the crown of your head and hands rubbing soothingly across your back. 

"Th-they hate me now," you whispered brokenly into Peter's soft hoodie in between sobs. "They hate me Pete, they're n-never going to forgive me for this!"

Peter shushed you quietly, gentle lips kissing your hair as he began to sway you back and forth slowly. 

"They don't hate you angel," he soothed. "They're just surprised. Disappointed in the timing maybe, but they'll get over it. I promise."

"I never wanted it to go like this," you cried as you pulled your head from his chest slightly. Peter's hands left your back for a moment to come and rest on either of your cheeks. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before retreating upwards to look deep into your eyes. 

"I know you didn't sweet girl, but it did," he said gently as he brushed away some of your tears with the pads of his thumbs. "It did and it's going to be okay. We'll talk to your dads when they get back and clear everything up. And no matter what, you and I are going to get through this together, okay?"

You sniffled softly, nodding sadly. Peter's eyes were swimming with guilt and dejection at the sight of the empty expression on your face. He didn't know how to comfort you in this situation, but it was like every molecule in his body was demanding he do so. He leaned down once more to press a loving kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips. 

You sighed, head retreating back to his chest once your lips disconnected. Sadness was still swirling in your stomach and you just longed for the feeling that being in Peter's arms brought. He seemed to understand perfectly- as he always did- pressing his cheek to the top of your head and wrapping his arms tightly around you without a word. The two of you stood there for a while, bodies entangled as you continued lightly swaying back and forth. Peter's hands continued to roam up and down your spine and your tears began to slow and dry. 

Eventually you hummed, stepping back and up on your toes to press an appreciative kiss to Peter's face. He smiled as a faint pink tinted his cheeks at your display of affection. You giggled, slightly amazed that even after everything you two had done, something as simple as a peck on the cheek could still make him blush.

"Thank you," you said quietly, looking up into his eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at you in confusion. 

"For staying with me through all that. I mean it's you, so I wasn't really worried...but my dad can be really frightening. So thanks," you half joked. 

Peter chuckled lightly as he pulled you back into his arms once more. 

"Of course angel. Told you, I'm never going to leave you. Even if your dad is super scary. You two are stuck with me now. I'm never ever going to leave you or our baby," he vowed quietly into your hair as his hands reached down to rub the small but growing bump in your tummy lovingly. "We're gonna get through this all together, as a family."

You felt tears well up in your eyes once more, but this time out of sheer love and happiness.

 Damned hormones. 

"You're gonna be such a good daddy Peter," you whispered gratefully. Hearing the slight crack in your voice, Peter pulled you away from his chest gently to wipe your tear stained cheeks once more. 

"Hey now, no more tears today," he scolded playfully as he tugged you across the room. "When's the last time you ate something? We have the whole kitchen to ourselves now, and I bet my babies are hungry!"

You chuckled lightly as you allowed him to pull you along with him towards the kitchen. All the while, he chattered happily about the new article he'd just read about the specific nutritional needs pregnant women have, and your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. You were still apprehensive about the upcoming conversation with your dads, but you were definitely feeling better. As much as their approval and involvement would mean to you, you'd come to the conclusion that as long as you had Peter by your side everything would work out alright. 

Somehow.

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

"Petey, are you sure you don't need any-"

"No! Nope. I've got this," your boyfriend interrupted stubbornly. You signed, hand absentmindedly rubbing across your swollen stomach as you watched him struggle with the latch on the new crib the two of you were setting up. 

Well, the crib that Peter was setting up. 

It'd been a few months since the team had found out about the newest upcoming addition to the Tower, and you'd decided that it was time to begin decorating the nursery. Tony, of course, had offered to have someone come in to do all the heavy lifting, but Peter was insistent that he be the one to set everything up. His protectiveness over you and the rapidly growing child you were carrying had only increased as the months went on, so much so that you were lucky now if he'd even let you stand for long enough to watch him put the baby's furniture together. It was endearing, really, how much he cared for the two of you, but you'd be lying if you said that you weren't becoming a little frustrated with how little you could do to help. 

"Really Peter, I can help," you grumbled, annoyed. "I'm pregnant, not disabled."

"Of course you could help angel, but I don't need help," he grunted, eyes never leaving the mass of parts around him. "You already have to do all the work of growing and housing our baby, the least I can do is build the crib!"

"Housing?" you teased, quirking an eyebrow.

"You know what I meant," he grumbled, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his growing frustration. 

Peter was clearly losing his grip just a bit as he struggled to make sense of the instructions that had been provided with the pieces. He sighed, throwing the pamphlet down on the ground before trudging over to where you stood, leaning against the changing table that he'd put together a few days ago. 

"I've engineered web-fluid from absolutely nothing, re-built computers from scratch and yet I can't even manage to put this stupid bed together," he whined as he dropped his head down onto your shoulder in defeat. "M'gonna be a terrible father."

"Ohhh bubs," you cooed sympathetically, smile falling quickly and heart lurching at the tone of pure dejection in his voice. 

You wrapped your arms around him, one snaking around his back and the other cradling his head. Your fingers began instantly carding through his chocolate-brown locks as he nuzzled his nose lightly into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His hands wound their way around your waist too- or as well as they could with your round tummy in the way- and his own hands began absentmindedly tracing patterns over your bump.

"Peter you have to know that isn't true," you soothed, kissing his cheek softly. "You're going to be an amazing dad."

He hummed non-commitally. 

"You think you're not?" you challenged, fingers halting their dance against his scalp. "Do the thing."

He raised his head from your shoulder, brows furrowed in confusion. 

"What does that have to do with-"

"Do the thing," you interrupted sternly. He sighed and knelt down, grumbling inaudible complaints as he went. Once he was face to face with your bump he placed his hands on either side, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your stretched-out skin.

"Hi baby, it's me, your daddy," he spoke softly into your stomach, lips so close that you shivered with each breath that ghosted over your clothed belly. "I love you so much."

The baby responded instantly at the sound of Peter's voice, feet jabbing out and kicking excitedly from within just underneath where his hands lay. You felt your heart skip a beat at both the feeling the movement in your belly and the sight of the dopey smile that lit up Peter's handsome face as he felt his child's kicks. You rubbed over his hands lovingly and smiled down at him.

"See bubs? He starts throwing a party in there every time you do that. He loves you so much already, that's not gonna change," you reassured him softly. Peter's smile dropped just a little. 

"But the crib-"

"Fuck the crib," you responded stubbornly. "You are the most caring, sweetest, and most thoughtful person I know Peter. You're going to be the world's best dad."

"Whoa whoa, believe we're the ones with the mugs that claim that title," a voice chuckled from the doorway. 

You smiled fondly, eyes darting to find the sight of your Pops leaning casually against the frame of the door with your dad standing just behind him. Both had amused smiles on their faces, and you grinned widely. Even Peter smiled as he rose to his feet and wrapped one of his arms around your back to pull you into his side. 

"Okay, third best dad in the world then," you amended, grinning. 

"That's better," your dad piped up, smiling. "Now what's this I hear about a faulty crib? Sam said he can hear Peter cursing all the way from his room."

Peter groaned, tilting his head backwards in exasperation as you laughed out loud. 

"It isn't faulty, I'm just an idiot," Peter grumbled. Everyone but him chuckled, and your dad walked further into the room. He clapped a hand on Peter's back as he grinned at the younger man. 

"Normally I'd agree with you, but I know if I do Steve will bring up how Y/N had to sleep in the bassinet for like 6 months because we couldn't figure out how to put her crib together."

"You mean you couldn't figure it out," your Pops snorted from his place in the doorway. "As I recall, I was not allowed to help with the furniture because you were determined to figure it out on your own."

Bucky shrugged, seemingly indifferent to his husband's insinuation. 

"Whatever. Point is, I wanted to see if you wanted some help putting it together. Thought I might be able to give you some tips," your dad continued. Peter's smile widened, and he nodded eagerly before your dad knelt down to help try and make sense of the directions.

The discussion after the incident in the training room had gone much better than you would've ever imagined. Both your dads had been relatively calm once they'd returned from their mission, and surprisingly there had been no screaming, no crying, and no threats towards Peter from Bucky like you'd been picturing. The four of you had sat down together and had a long, mature discussion of what your plans were in terms of raising and caring for your child, and by the end your dads had even seemed enthusiastic about the prospect of being grandparents. Their involvement and excitement had only grown in the following months to the point now that you felt silly for ever having been frightened to tell them. 

And now as you stood watching your boyfriend and dad work together to put your child's room together, tears began collecting in your eyes and you felt your chest warm with feelings of overwhelming love. Steve, noticing your tears, moved to wrap his arms around you and you leaned your head against his shoulder. Rubbing your belly lovingly, you couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over you for the men in your life and love for the little one that you'd all be meeting soon. 

[bitchiha]

To Eternal Bliss, I’m so Glad to Know (ModernAU!Hidan x Reader)

The Rats 1k event prompt: Street racer x Hidan

A/N: hey.. aha.. how y'all doing.. hum so i haven't been doing great, I think that is evident through my inactivity on this blog, but that being said i am in a bit of a better place now. i finally have some time to myself and i intend to put that towards my 900 follower event. Enjoy this wonderful piece of modern racer Hidan that strayed into crazy murder himbo I love car man Hidan.

Title inspired by: this song.

MAJOR TWs: smut, harassment (brief, undescriptive), uhm murter, reckless driving, lots of mentions of and contemplations of death. You are a literal accomplice to murter. Reader is confused. But.. It’s not supposed to be gory and dark, I kinda wanted it to just be stupid and reflect a himbo hidan as much as I could. Last like 6 paragraphs aren’t edited.

-

You shouldn’t be in a criminals car, much less in the middle of a police chase and much much less be falling in love with him.

 His silver hair flashes wildly in the occasional flicker of red and blue lights, teeth bared; he was making that face again. That one he had when he first met you, lips curled and canines showing. It looked like he was in pain. It was just because he was actually trying to use his brain, you think. He grips the wheel tightly, the whites of his pale knuckles glowing as he swerves onto one of the busiest city streets you know. 

Barely avoiding a collision with a distinct yellow blur you could barely classify as a taxi, he continued to speed through the lanes, horns blaring and merging into the sound of the wailing sirens quickly approaching. Another sharp turn onto a slightly less busy road had your body slamming against the console, leaning close to Hidan. Your eyes stray from the window and onto his face, unable to hear what he is saying, you make out the movement of his lips:

shit,shit,shiiit 

The tires screeched as he fumbled around with the controls, sending the car into a full 180 and narrowly avoiding a police car sacrificing its auto body in favour of capturing Jashin. That was real close call, just scratching the side of the passenger door, but you wouldn't know; you were still watching your boyfriends features as he speeds off down another dirty alley. 

You were pretty sure that one day you were going to die trapped in Hidans little metal box.. A distant part of you wanted to throw up when you realized you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sure, he was obnoxiously annoying in the most serious of times and incredibly oblivious when you desperately needed him to get a clue. I mean fuck, it felt like despite his adolescent years of elementary and secondary school (which you’re not even sure he attended) his brain only had the capacity to process two things. The first being lewd shit and the second would be the gas pedal... and maybe half a braincell was in there thinking of you, but probably only of you in your panties or something really shallow like that. 

You really shouldn’t love him. 

Barrelling down the alley he randomly slammed the breaks down, the lack of warning sending you flying forward. Bracing yourself to be slammed into the front of car, but just when you thought you were going to break your nose Hidan reversed, sending your body backwards instead. You yelped and he sent you a stupid little apologetic curl of his lip before twisting his body, hand coming to your chair for support as he sped the car backwards through the trash littered street. You didn't understand why he suddenly changed his mind about the direction until a few seconds later when a black and white cop car swerved down the alley in the direction you were back pedalling from. Hidan must have known they were going to try and cut his route off.    

  At the sight of the police vehicle your boyfriend impulsively slammed the breaks, rolling his window down and leaning his head out of it, “Ha, you stupid fucks think you could catch Jashin with some lame shit like that? I could smell that from a mile away!” From your boyfriends childish tone you predicted he was going to blow a raspberry, but the sound of speeding tires approaching quickly stopped him. Sirens blaring, the police car sped its way forward. 

“Oh fuck.” Hidan sped Jashin backwards again. 

  You remembered the first time you met Jashin.

  It was late that night, you were making your long trek home after a disastrous closing shift. You were tired. So fucking tired. You never would have taken that shortcut if you weren’t truly physically drained. As you made your way briskly through that musky trash infested canal, you were stopped by a man who smelled just as intensely as the alley itself. It was so much so that you had thought that perhaps it was the mans smell that was so potent and not the space itself. 

  Defining what the source of that smell was wasn’t important though, not when he was coming straight at you with barred, yellow teeth. You didn't know what to do and to be fair, what the fuck were you supposed to do? He was yelling something, you couldn't hear it over the thrashing of your erratic heartbeat.  Were you going to die? You were so fucking tired. 

Maybe you should run.

  You didn’t though. Didn’t have the energy. So you let the man come face to face with your figure, grabbing at the lapels of your coat and screaming. His breath was unbearable and you thought you were going to pass away just from the smell as opposed to actually being murdered. Although you suppose this could probably qualify for a murder, his breath was most definitely a weapon. But despite his shouts being directly at you, his humid breath spraying across your face as his chest constantly heaved, you couldn't understand what he was saying. 

“Jashin! Jashin is coming!” 

  What the fuck was Jashin? Could you still not hear him? He was probably sick. You were tired. So you continued to let him shake your form. Was he going to kill you or just ask for some money?

  Thats when a beast of sleek red metal swerved down the alley, trampling over peeled open garbage bags and beer bottles, approaching you with each sound of a crinkled can. It was gunning straight towards the man who was backing you up against the wall, he was frothing and screaming at the sight and the next moment the hood of the car slammed into his form. Despite your close proximity to the man, you were left barely unscathed and a little bit disappointed.  

  The scene laid frozen for a good thirty seconds: the man unconscious on the floor, your unsteady breathing and the window of the car rolling down. It inched back to reveal a man about your age - which made him just barely a man - with silver slicked back hair, barred teeth and knitted eyebrows. 

“Shit.” 

  You just stared at him, backpack beginning to slide down your shoulders. He stared back at you, waiting to see what your next move was going to be. You didn’t have one. 

  “...If it makes you feel any better, douchebag deserved it.” The man said a few minutes later, he clearly wasn't expecting the crumpled body on the floor to have tried to seek out help, let alone from a cute girl. He smoothed his hair back. 

   His crappy attempt to seduce you didn't work and nor did his equally crap words of consolation, you were tired. This whole situation was even more tiring. You just wanted to sleep. 

  “I won't tell anyone, if you just drive me home.”

  He clearly wasn't expecting that, you could tell that from the pained look intensifying on his face and his little choked gasp. A few moments later it released like an elastic band snapping and his features set into a smug smirk. A cute girl who wasn’t gonna snitch on him?

  “You’re not going to question the fact that I just hit someone with my car? Is it cause I'm so fucking sex-” 

  You weren’t listening, walking over the heap of a body and around the car into the passenger seat. The contrasting smell of vanilla and cigarettes clouded your senses as you clicked your seatbelt into place - noticing his lack of one in the process.

You hated that your face was burning up as you spoke. “I live a few blocks away.” 

For a while you were sure that this was the first girl Hidan had ever had in his car. It was obvious that he was freaking out, maybe if he didn’t hit people in alleyways and then blamed your silence on the fact that he was so fucking sexy, then maybe he would be able to talk to more.

  He tried to blab to you the whole way to your apartment accidentally making wrong turns to try and extend the length of your stay. He told you about that man in the alley, said something about how he totally fucked him over in some black market shit for auto parts. Said his enemy, - he stressed this word very intensely - Shikamaru probably put him up to it. Nobody messes with Jashin goddamit, I fucking hate that guy. It was a shit justification for murder no doubt, there is never a good reason to hit someone with a car, but you supposed your indifference wasn't any better. 

  You stole a couple glances at him every now and then, when his eyes took a break from darting back and fourth between your thighs, your face and the road. He had a sharp jaw, pretty cheekbones, gelled back hair with small strands escaping every so often - causing him to brush them back when too many tickled his forehead - his lashes were long and his eyes so pretty so in the dim light of the empty city streets. His teeth were straight and sharp canines peeked out whenever he sent you a suggestive smirk.

You also spent an unbelievably long time watching his fingers maneuver the steering wheel, the way his hands flexed with a certain turn. The veins of his forearms travelling underneath his leather jacket pushed up at the elbows, his jeans were all worn out and faded and his shoes looked like they were about to fall apart, it was a big difference in comparison to the well kept state of his handsome car.

  When he finally made it to your complex after running out of roads to take wrong turns down, he looked at you like a lost puppy, rolling the passenger window down to call out to you as you opened the lobby doors. “So I’ll meet you out here tomorrow then? Say, around 9?” 

  You turned to look at him confusedly, inquiring as to why he would be picking you up when you made no reservations to see him again, why would you want to see your accomplice in a murder ever again? But he was already speeding off before you got the chance. 

At least you could finally go to sleep.

The next day he was outside your apartment fifteen past nine, blaring his horn as he maneuvered his upper body to hover out the window of his lovely Jashin. You were nestled on your couch, staring at the blue light of the TV screen in your dark apartment desperately trying to avoid the textbook glowering at you from the coffee table.

‘Cute kitten saved from tree’ was sprawled across the bottom of your television in bold letters as a perky blonde read off the little cue cards in her hand. You’d been watching the news all day, waiting for the red breaking news! To slice across the screen and read out the description of a crippled homeless gambler found dead in an alley, but it never came.

It mad you feel a little angry when you realized his death wasn’t going to be announced and you knew there was no way it hadn’t been discovered yet. Then you sat startled at the realization that you didn’t feel anything towards what happened. That the anger you felt in wanting it to be so desperately displayed on the news was because you hoped you would feel something then.

The sound of Hidans car horn threw you out of your thoughts as you jumped like a frightened cat to the window. Peeling back the curtain you were surprised to see that blood stained blotch on the road with a lavender haired boy peeking out, baring his teeth.

You contemplated staying inside, he didn’t know your apartment number, but you knew that he definitely wouldn’t stop blaring the horn if you didn’t. His hand was undeniably laying flat against the centre of he wheel as he continued to sound out, you heard someone yell for him to fucking shut up. Hidan continued as if he didn’t hear. It kind of flattered you.

You wanted to vomit.

You took the stairs.

It was the beginning of winter when you finally let Hidan fuck you. You were in some parking lot lined with pitch black shops on a Sunday night. Everyone closed early going home to their families, except the two of you of course.

It was odd being with him for this long. One outing turned into another and then another, before you knew it he was picking you up every night at nine -sometimes fifteen minutes passed,- blaring his horn excitedly as he peeked out his car.

He told you it was the perfect place to do donuts, didn’t you want to do donuts? You did. It was the beginning of winter. It was icy. His idea was incredibly fucking stupid. But you agreed because maybe you’d skid on the ice and smash into a store, get crushed by the crumbling debris..

There was little snowflakes hitting the windows of Jashin as you two sat parked in the middle of the deserted lot.

“You ready? Oh you’re gonna love this, babe.”

He grinned as your face heated up at the name, you always got all flustered whenever he said anything like that. It made him feel giddy. His long fingers start Jashin up, moving to clutch the wheel as the car thrums to life.

When he makes the first swerve with his car, he turns his head to watch your body all stiff and frightened. It was funny. He laughed as your face twisted into an even more flustered one - if that was possible. God, you were always such a hard ass at the beginning of the night, but when he dropped you off outside your apartment early into the morning he always made sure to leave you with a little smile on your face. Even now, this early into the night he could see the beginnings of one.

He twisted the wheel again and your body flew to the left, smooshing into the console and the surprised laugh that left your mouth had his guts twisting. He wanted to hear it again. Your walls always fell when he did stupid shit like this. You were kinda fucked up now that he thought about it. Always getting all giggly when you should probably be screaming at him to be more careful for fucks sake! But you never did and he loved that about you. Just as fucked as he was.

“Hey babe, babe! This one’ll be good. Watch, watch.” He gripped the wheel again and grinded his sneaker into the gas, the first skid across asphalt was intentional, but when he tried to regain the reigns of his dark red beast it began to thrash out of his control.

Goddamn ice patch.

The car twisted, screeched and burned into the pavement for a good twenty seconds and when he was sure you should be screaming because I mean come on, that was fucking scary, he heard silence.

As the car came to a complete stop and your body was once again flung against the console, he turned to you. He thinks he was gonna ask if you were okay but he couldn’t remember because the next moment you were grabbing tufts of his gelled hair and sucking his face off.

He loved every second of it. The amount of times he’d tried to get his dick wet with you before was astronomical, but you’d always tell him no and he would pout like a dog. But hey, now you’re shoving your tongue down his throat like a dog so he settled on the idea that good things do come to people who wait.

The reason you decided to do it then was blurry. One moment his car was skidding around the parking lot and you were laughing and thinking of the chance of death and the next second it spat onto your tongue and you realized you didn’t want it anymore.

Like that first time you slid into his car, as you kissed him now you tasted contrasting flavours. Mint and cigarettes. For a moment you thought you were going to pull away, but you felt the sudden need to drink all of it. To somehow understand why you felt like you were burning from the inside.

It was his fault really. Hidan made you feel less tired, if that was a good way to put it. You started looking forward to things after you two met and eventually you actually started to feel a bit more deeply for poor crumpled man in the alley. It felt as if you’re body was being thawed out by this silver haired idiot who was groping for the clasp of your bra underneath your shirt.

So you climbed over the console, fumbling with the side of his chair to pull his seat back as you began to strip off your top in haste. You unbuttoned his jeans and slid down to the space between his leg, choking and drooling all over his cock because when you did you felt all these funny emotions bubbling in your body, you felt alive.

He was a loud mouth when you had his dick down your throat, groaning and saying the dumbest, lewdest shit his sex wired brain could think of. You know how many times he’s thought of this? You feel so good, you feel so good. God this is so good, Jashin probably loves it too... We should fuck on the hood of the car next. Long slender fingers guided your head up and down him as he began to twitch thrust his hips upwards, finally spill into your mouth. Douchebag didn’t let your head go and you felt some of his juices dribble down your tongue.

“Swallow it, swallow it while my dicks still in your mouth... Atta girl, you’re so good. So greedy..”

And you swallowed it all, he hoisted you back onto his lap and pushed your skirt up. He was whispering all this perverted stuff in your ear and your mouth fell open against his neck. Words making you flush fiercely and slowly grind your hips against him. You stopped him when he was beginning to shove your panties down your thighs, though.

For the first time you felt small in comparison to him as you met his eyes. He stopped his movement seeming like he was going to say something too, but you cut him off.

“- Hidan... I’ve never done it before.”

He stares at you all wide eyed before laughing and for a second and you think about getting out of his car and walking home because that’s such a douchebag thing to do, but then he surprises you.

“Me too, I was just about to say.. but I mean it can’t be hard right? Well, I am hard,” he laughed and you found yourself huffing a small giggle at his stupid joke, good mood returning as he continued, “I was just gonna go with what I seen in hentais.” That explained his dirty talk.

It was pretty good for your first time though. Ideally not the best place to have sex, you kept hitting your head and he couldn’t quite get his hips thrusting at a good pace with the confined space, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care because it was Hidan and you think you just might be in love with him.

That’s why you don’t say anything when a few weeks later you see “Shikamaru Nara, infamous street racer found dead in a back alley crash.” flashing across your tv screen.

You don’t comment, just give a little understanding hum when Hidan calls you and tells you he can’t pick you up tonight babe, or for a few nights, Jashin needs some repairs..

It’s why now, as he speeds through the streets recklessly with your bags in the trunk and the sound of sirens ringing in your ears that you feel tears prick your eyes. You wish you could have told him to be more careful, that he shouldn’t have done what he did without planning it. Something, anything.. it’s too late now. But he’s not to blame.

You think it’s your fault, really.

[sxvxrxssnape]

Small Mercies In Poisoned Teacups

Snapetober 2020: Day 3 - Torture a much softer take at the prompt

"Explain yourself."

"I, I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

Severus closed his eyes. He dug two fingers into his temple, trying to ward off the headache that was sure to come if he had to continue this conversation for any longer. He took a quiet deep breath and reminded himself that he couldn't accuse Potter of stealing from him without any real proof. 

"You were the last one out of the classroom." Severus finally spoke, opening his eyes and staring at the green-eyed Gryffindor in front of him. 

"Is that a crime?" 

Severus scowled. "Specifically, you were coming out of my potion stores when I reentered my classroom, Potter."

Potter didn't say anything, merely looked defiant. Fifth year potions had just ended and Severus had been distracted at the door by a question from one of his Slytherins and when he'd turned around to ensure the room was empty so he could lock up, he spotted the fifteen year old slipping out of the supply cabinet. He didn't bother to take stock, he knew whatever the brat had taken would be small enough to miss; he wouldn't make the same mistakes he had during second year, when he had stolen a noticeable amount of supplies to brew polyjuice in secret. 

Instead, he had cornered the boy before he could leave the dungeons corridor altogether. 

"I didn't take anything, if that's what you're accusing me off." Potter muttered, gripping his bag a little too tightly. 

"No?" Severus asked gently, completely derailing Potter's defensiveness with his sudden softness. He wanted answers and he knew just how to get them. "Come with me, Potter."

He led the boy back towards the classroom, back into the potions store. He gestured around the shelves lined with unlabeled phials and jars, at the collection of ingredients. 

"I suppose I should be impressed if you had managed to steal from me." Severus mused, watching him carefully. "I would be surprised if you paid enough attention to know what half of these potions even are, let alone what they do. I don't label, you see, to dissuade halfwitted children from stealing from me.  The half that do understand are usually intelligent enough to just ask. It's a pity you aren't."

"I didn't think you'd have much sympathy for me, sir." Potter muttered darkly, his voice so quiet Severus wasn't sure it was meant to be audible. Harry was staring intently at a small collection of glass bottles with mismatched labels half-scrubbed away. 

"What makes you say that?" Severus asked, keeping his voice flat and neutral. He probably wouldn't have much sympathy truthfully, didn't have much to spare with everything he had to take care of this year. Still, as he stared at the bottles filled with Essence of Dittany, a strange sort of cold feeling washed over him. It was probably nothing - children get hurt all the time. It was the preference to steal than go to the hospital wing that forced his uneasiness. 

Harry shrugged. 

"What, pray tell, do you need the Essence of Dittany for?" Severus finally asked, masking the uneasiness with annoyance. He noticed the boy flinch in response. "Were you so arrogant to think I wouldn't figure it out? Mr. Potter, your tells are so obvious, you wouldn't fool a lemming." 

He muttered under his breath. 

"Speak up, Potter."

"I cut my hand, is all." Harry repeated and the angry defiance in his tone had returned. 

Severus held back a sigh and led them out of the storage room. He pointed to a chair and waited until the boy had sat down until he spoke. "Then why not just go to the infirmary? Surely a boy of your status would prefer to bask in the attention of Madame Pomfrey than myself?" 

"It's really not worth going to the infirmary over."

"Then why steal in the first place?"

Harry scowled. "Madame Pomfrey would make too big of a deal out of it and it would only make things worse. I can handle it on my own, thanks."

"Handle what?" Severus was only growing more puzzled, but he wouldn't let that derail him. He could tell something was absolutely wrong with the situation in front of him and he was determined to figure it out before he punished the boy for having the audacity to steal from him yet again. 

He remained silent. 

"Don't make me threaten you with veritaserum."

"How original." Harry scowled and then paused. He looked up at the potions master with curiosity. "Actually sir, I do have a question: how difficult is it to get your hands on veritaserum?" 

"Quite." Severus answered, studying him carefully. "It's regulated by the Ministry. Unless you know how to make it, of course, but it's also difficult to brew."

Harry nodded. "So if a professor were to use it on their students, they would have to get it from the Ministry….or you?" 

"What are you getting at, Potter."

"Nothing really."

"The Ministry would never sanction the distribution of veritaserum to a professor. Any potion they are in possession of and wish to use, can only be used within a courtroom." Severus decided to answer, inferencing the reason for the question. "If a wizard - professor or not - wanted it for petty use, they would have to contact a willing potioneer for it."

"I suppose any teacher here could just ask you for it, then.”

"They could. They would also have to trust that the veritaserum they were given wasn't just a phial of distilled water, wouldn't they?" Severus asked indifferently. 

Harry's eyes widened the tiniest bit, but he didn't say anything.. Good. There was plausible deniability that way; he had never outright said he'd given Dolores fake veritaserum when she had banged his office door open last week, but who's to say what really happened?

He eyed Harry carefully and figured they had built enough of a rapport to continue. "Essence of Dittany." he reminded the boy. 

"I told you, I just cut my hand."

"Let me see, then." Severus directed as snippets of memory from past years rose up. His job of keeping the boy alive was made unnecessarily difficult by his insistence of constantly getting into trouble. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised if "just a cut" meant "I lost a limb" for the boy. 

Again, Harry scowled, but this time he pulled back the sleeve of his robe and presented the back of his hand to Severus. 

He blinked.

The back of Potter's hand was red and slightly swollen, streaked with wet crimson from where the fabric of his sleeve had been dragged over the still bleeding corners of the words carved into the skin. The cuts were deep and angry-looking and sure to scar over.

I must not tell lies. 

He reached a tentative hand, acutely aware of the flinch he received, and studied the wound closer. It was days old, but it was also fresh at the same time. 

"Essence of Dittany was a good choice." he finally spoke up. 

"It was Hermione's idea."

Severus nodded, trying to keep his composure but he could feel the anger coiling in his stomach. He could also feel the hum of Dark magic radiating from the wound. Simple healing spells would be useless here, but he doubted Miss Granger hadn't already tried that before suggesting the Dittany. "How did this happen?" he asked needlessly. 

He knew the work of a blood quill when he saw it.

Harry took his hand back, pulled the sleeve down until the ugly words were hidden from sight again. "Umbridge had me do lines for my detention," he shrugged casually, as if admitting to a professor torturing him was no big deal, "and she insisted I use a special quill of hers."

Severus' lips thinned. "And you told no one."

"I just told you.”

This time, he couldn't hold back the sigh of exasperation. "How long has this been going on?" 

"Three days now." Harry answered. "I have her again tonight. I can handle it."

The anger was only increasing. “You shouldn’t have to handle it.” he gritted out. “You understand this is beyond unacceptable? This isn’t punishment, Potter, it’s torture.” He forced a breath. “Go, go to, to wherever you’re supposed to be right now.” He paused. “You have detention with me tonight now, conveniently at the same time you’re supposed to be meeting with Umbridge.”

“Oh, uh, yes sir.”

“Leave.”

He managed to keep himself composed just long enough for the Gryffindor to flee out of the room. He left the classroom as well and entered his private lab, seething. He would have to tell Minerva of this development, Dumbledore as well, but that could wait for a few hours. First, he needed to calm down before they accused him of caring for the brat. 

He was only taking his duty at ensuring the safety and wellbeing of his students seriously. It just happened to include Potter directly, this time, but isn’t that what he’s been doing since day one? So maybe he had gotten the brat out of Dolores’ inhumane detention for the night and maybe now he was distraction brewing while he thought all of the deadly potions he wished he could slip into her morning cup of tea. 

That didn’t mean anything.

It also didn’t mean anything that he summoned a house elf when he finished the nonlethal amber brew and handed over the indistinct vial. It didn’t mean anything at all if it happened to slip into Dolores’ teapot the next morning.

Besides, it wouldn’t kill her. 

Unlike her, he had some sense of ethics. If it kept her too sick to leave the hospital wing for the week that followed, well, what were small mercies for students he didn’t care for. 

---

A/N: the original piece for day 3 felt better suited for a different prompt day so i wrote this instead (late yes) and took a lot of creative liberty with the prompt bc i didnt want to write it, i wanted to write snape & harry interacting :(

also trying to fit entire stories in a singular scene is weird and HARD. i need to write the whole thing and thats why every take ive had an these prompts get scrapped bc i realize i cant write it without devoting like a week to it

[ghostandblog]

Talking about Movies

FF / AO3

Summary: Bored in the library, Hannah and Barbara play a small game thinking about their friends.

Pairing: Sucy/Akko, Hannah/Amanda, Barbara/Lotte ( all characters are mentioned but not all appear, this is mostly about H&B talking).

Word count: 1,890

“Alright, let’s start with…Diana.”

Hannah’s tone is low, almost like a whisper, despite the library being pretty much empty. She looks at her friend with an inquisitive look.

Barbara rests her hand on her chin, with a concentrated expression as she thinks of their overachieving roommate. She considers her proper body posture, aristocrat upbringing, and the way she always goes for the most complex words at the moment of talking, which Barbara was sure it was a conscious decision on her part. It reminds her of black and white films, stories of powerful yet vulnerable heroes, beautifully designed yet simple dresses, and a sense of elegance that is just absent in most modern movies. With a clear answer on her mind, she looks back at Hannah.

“Diana would be… Classic Hollywood.”

Hannah raises her eyebrow a little bit. “That’s an odd connection.”

“Not at all, it makes perfect sense. Think of her as…Gone with the Wind or Citizen Kane”. Once she figures that her redheaded friend is convinced, she clasps her fingers together with a small smirk. “Alright, my turn. Give me a movie genre for… Amanda.”

Hannah narrows her eyes for a moment. “Amanda…Amanda would be adventure films. Movies that provide an… exciting sense of wonder. Purposely throwing yourself to danger in order to find new experiences, marvelously choreographed action scenes. You know, stories about the discoveries of ancient secrets and hidden treasures that also would lead to the discovery of…new aspects of yourself.” Hannah feels her lips forming a smile, then looks at Barbara’s grinning expression and worries that she may have flattered their american classmate a bit too much. “B-but there would not be, like, anything meaningful in them! always B-rated flicks with zero substance, yeah! That’s Amanda.”

She looks around them, worried that maybe she spoke a little too loud, but finds the library as empty as it was when they came for their now-paused study session. Hoping that her blush isn’t too noticeable, Hannah points at Barbara.

“Your turn now! Constanze?”

Barbara giggles a little bit, this was definitely a no-brainer. “Well duh, science fiction movies!” Giant robots, scientists working on their laboratories creating complex machines. Barbara entertains the idea that the short girl’s birthplace and silent nature is reminiscent of german expressionism cinema, but she knows she may be reaching with that one. “Jasminka?”

Hannah lets out a mocking chuckle. “I dunno. The cooking channel?”. After both share a small laugh, she tries to give a more thoughtful response. “But like, seriously, there is a sort of…warmth in her, you know? Always offering a tiny bit of what she’s eating, always with that calm smile of hers, it kind of reminds me of those feel-good movies that you watch as a kid with your parents, the ones with happy endings no matter what, or no matter how cheesy. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, if you will.”

Barbara nods, not really having anything to add.

Hannah raises her eyebrow again, this time placing a hand under her chin. “Now what would Lotte be?”

Barbara’s mind goes back to the finnish girl and remembers how she got to know her better thanks to their shared interest in Nightfall. She thinks of impossible love stories, star-crossed lovers, and above all, stories of girls that at some point may have been perceived as plain-looking or invisible, but later prove themselves beautifully unique and irreplaceable to the eyes of the previously dismissive hero. Unlike Hannah, she is not ashamed of her blushing face neither tries to hide it. She lets out a sigh before speaking.

“Lotte would be romance. Definitely.”

“Hehe. Of course she would.”

“You now. How about…Kagari?”

Hannah blinks, not really sure what to say at first, then finds a clear answer just by looking at Barbara’s smirk, knowing for sure that she is thinking the same thing as her.

“Comedy!”, they both say almost in unison, covering the giggling with their hands, more like a habit than a genuine attempt at keeping it quiet.

Atsuko Kagari. Always tripping over something, always making a mistake in her potions that resulted in some kind of explosion and her face covered in ashes. It’s like she was born to make every situation around her funny, and her almost negative intellect didn’t help, either. Everything she did was a source of laughs. Comedy certainly suited her alright.

Hannah wipes a small tear from her eye after laughing maybe a little too much, remembering it was her turn to ask.

“Okay Barb, what about creepy Susie?”

“Yeah. What about me?”

The monotone tone of voice is familiar, but the surprise is still there when they turn around and see the figure of a pale girl with long purple hair, her only visible eye looking directly at them with a tired expression, bangs covering the other one.

Hannah tries to stand back almost instinctively, accidentally tripping with one of her feet and falling out of her chair in a very unflattering manner, not unlike the way of the clumsy girl they were laughing at recently.

Barbara remains sitting where she is, petrified, with her hands placed in front of her as if she were trying to stop a sudden attack coming from Sucy. She attempts to keep her cool, but still can feel the sweat on the back of her neck.

Sucy just stands there, her expression unfazed. Is only the slow, uninterested way she blinks that reminds Hannah and Barbara that the girl standing before them is still alive (as far as they know).

“S-sucy! Hannah and I were just, we-” Still doing her best to keep whatever remains of her composure, Barbara hopes that she can get them out of there alive by sweet-talking somehow.

“How long have you been just STANDING there!?” Hannah’s usual temper doesn’t make it easy for Barbara, though.

Sucy just gives her a quick, dismissive glance, before looking directly at Barbara, who is now wishing that her sweating isn’t as noticeable as she thinks it is.

“So? What movie genre I am?”

“Ah! Well, we- uhm, we thought that you, erm, obviously-”

As Barbara attempts to form a coherent lie, Sucy just gets closer to the point that their faces are mere inches to each other, as if to remind her that there would not be a way out of this unless she tells her what she wants to know.

“Answer the question. Which one I am?”

Barbara lets out a loud gulp. She can’t really think of a convincing lie, so she decides to just answer honestly, ready to face the lavender witch’s wrath.

“Horror. I…i was gonna say that you would be a horror movie.”

Her expression doesn’t change for the next seconds that to Barbara, felt like hours. Then a smile seems to form on her lips, just enough to let Barbara know that she was amused by her answer.

“Haha. Neat.”

“Yo, Sucy! Hurry up! I already found the book that Lotte asked us to get!”

Hearing the familiar, loud voice that doesn’t even try to pretend to be in a place meant for silence and studying, the three girls look at the other end of the library, where Akko is waving at them while holding an old, dusty book on her other hand. Sucy looks back at Hannah and Barbara, wearing the same uninterested expression as before.

“Gotta go now”.

Feeling like she dodged a mushroom-shaped bullet, Barbara tries to keep the tiny bit of composedness that she barely had, but lets out a deep breath the very moment Sucy turns back and goes to where Akko is. She keeps looking at their direction, though, if only to make sure that the creepy girl actually leaves and doesn’t have any kind of last card, snake or potion under her sleeve. While hearing them chat as they walk, Barbara can notice, once again, how Sucy’s body language changes just a little bit when walking alongside Akko.

“Hey Suz, what were you doing with Hannah and Barbara just now?”

“Eh. We were just talking.”

“About what?”

As they leave the library, the two blue team members can’t hear their conversation anymore. Hannah, still shaking due to their near-Sucy experience, tries to regain her collectedness and opens her books again without saying anything, willing to forget anything related to the game they were playing to slack off studying. Barbara’s attention is somewhere else, still looking at the door even after the two girls are no longer there.

If Barbara had to be honest, she didn’t particularly care for either of them… even if Lotte was still trying to get her to know them better. But despite her own indifference, she couldn’t deny that there was something…charming in how the weird, creepy, and off-putting girl with lavender hair managed to develop a soft spot for the clumsiest girl in school, and how it was hard to ignore given that she herself managed to notice certain patterns as she was looking for stuff to make fun of them. Back when she still found enjoyment in bullying the three red team members, she considered the idea to tease Sucy about her potential feelings towards her roommate, but even then her own sense of survival knew better than that.

The expression on her face softens up just a tiny bit, enough for Hannah to notice when she turns to talk to her again.

“Did you know, that despite how different and irreconcilable they may seem, the horror and comedy genres have a lot in common? Many film and literally critics agree on that.”

Hannah just looks at her with a confounded expression.

“Huh?”

“If you pay attention, you would notice how many of the most acclaimed horror movies have a little bit of comedy in them. Not even as a foil, mostly as…a small piece that you didn’t know it would be missing. Something that you never thought would fit, but it does amazingly so. Yes, comedy and horror movies can exist on their own and work perfectly fine alone…”, pausing her words for a moment, she looks for her notes scrapped on the table to resume her studies, “…But is only when placed alongside with comedy that the horror genre gets to truly shine to its full potential.”

“What the heck are you going on about now?”

As if taken back from a trance, Barbara blinks a little, then just shrugs.

“I guess I just thought it was interesting.” She says almost instantly forgetting why that particular comparison came to her mind. “What about us though?”

“Ah?”

“Yeah, what movie genre would we be?”

Hannah scratches her head. She considers the options left, even if at this point she is not really interested to keep playing the little game they both made up. “I dunno. Animation?”

Seemingly considering the answer for a moment, Barbara lets out a dismissive laugh while opening one of her books. “Ha! As if.”

“Yeah, you are right. I’m not a big fan of cartoons, in all honesty.” Hannah says as she thinks of repetitive Saturday-morning animated shows, the ones with talking animals wearing funny clothes, stock sound effects, and the same background scene over and over. “Is just stuff for little kids anyway. Like, who has time for that kind of crap?”

A/N:

Hannah and Barbara being named after Hanna-Barbera will never not be funny to me.

Has something like this been done before? at first i wanted to compare the characters to music genres and bands but besides picking Kraftwerk for Constanze i've got nothing. Kinda not very really convinced how this one turned out, but still, i think is better to just publish it instead of letting it accumulate metaphorical dust in my drafts forever lol. I think I also better look for some beta readers for my next fic, i have a couple of other unfinished ideas even if I am not really sure what do…writing-wise? Guess we’ll see.

Amanda being Hannah’s gay awakening is a really cute concept. Is really growing on me!

Still, thank you for reading! Hope you all enjoyed this.

[the-everlasting-dream]

The Revelation AU- Drake x MC, Part 3

Summary: Drake and Elizabeth struggle with the aftermath of her decision to continue with the engagement. 

Word count: 5000ish whoops!

A/N: Here it is! Part 3 as promised. I’d like to than the wonderful @choicessa for all the positivity and encouragement she gave me over the last few days - without her this fic would not have been written so quickly. I used this website to reference the noble titles but I may have gotten them wrong so accept my apologies if so. 

I’ve been teasing it all week but if you thought last chapter’s cliff hanger was intense, well honey, you’ve got a big storm coming! 

CW: Some swearing, description of a panic attack, reader discretion advised. 

Based on this post with permission from OP.

Part 1   Part 2

Drake had no idea how long he stayed on the parlour floor. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, he didn’t know and he didn’t care to find out. The only thing that mattered to him was the tiny piece of jewellery on the table in front of him and what it represented. 

The family heirloom ring 

Her ring.

Not anymore, some sane part of his brain rudely reminded him and his hand reached out of its own accord, turning the circular piece of gold over and over, running a finger over the three diamonds embedded in the metal. The very sensation felt wrong, like the ring had become a being of its own and was rejecting him, burning the skin it touched as if it wanted nothing to do with him. 

It would have been so much easier if Elizabeth could have just hated him. He would have preferred it if she had slapped him, hit him, looked him straight in the eyes as she screamed how the hell could he have done this to her, how could he have slept at night with the memories of his betrayal? But she did none of those things, she handled the matter with as much grace and decorum as she could, choosing the high road while he had royal fucked up, left here holding the ring instead of holding her heart. 

Could he make it up to her? What could he do to deserve her again? Did he even deserve to try? 

He’d do anything, say anything if she would just say the word. He so desperately wanted to, no, he needed to. There was no single thing that he could do that would fix this abominable mess that arisen and he could only hope that she could find it in her heart to forgive him. He would never be worthy of her again, not worthy of having someone who loved him so much she was willing to give up a queenship and a life of luxury and security for him. What could he have offered her anyway? Clearly it had only been heartbreak and betrayal. 

Perhaps, he thought bitterly. It would have been better if she had married Liam after all. 

 It would be a perfect punishment for Drake, to stand by and watch his best friend pledge his life and his love to the woman who so ardently deserved both while he would have to live with the lifelong regret. But he knew Elizabeth and he knew Liam, he knew that they weren't the type of people to turn around and take advantage of such a shitty situation. 

Drake struggled to sit on the couch, suddenly unable to lift his own weight. He couldn’t do this. Not on his own. He needed… he needed her… Elizabeth. The thought went round and round his head, repeating itself like a mantra, a prayer on his lips and by the time he gathered the strength to look up at the grandfather clock, it was long past 4am. 

His throat screamed for some moisture and he blindly reached out, grabbing the nearest bottle, dumping the contents into his whiskey glass. The room was dark, the fire having gone out hours ago. There was drink in his hand and a pain in his chest. Drake had a sense of deja vu, finding himself in the same cycle, history was beginning to repeat itself but this time, no one was coming to save him. The liquid burned his throat, different flavours he had mixed together taunted him as he cowered behind their intoxicating effect instead of facing his problems head on like a real man would.   

‘Her lips,’ he sighed pouring himself, another shot. ‘God only knows what I would give away just to have her lips on mine again.’ He had barely muttered the words when a switch was flicked and intense fluorescent light flooded his eyes. 

‘Jesus Drake! Vodka? Really?’ A voice exclaimed, ripping through his ear drum. The bottle was snatched out of his hand and after his eyes adjusted to see a furious Hana and equally aerated Maxwell glaring at him. 

‘What are you two doing here?’ He questioned, groggily, his voice creaking slightly. 

Hana’s glare intensified. ‘What does it look like we’re doing Drake? We’re here to make you make things right with Elizabeth!’ 

‘Yeah!’ Maxwell interjected. ’She called off the engagement, she even used her super scary Duchess voice on me. I didn’t even know she could do that!’ 

’That’s besides the point,’ Hana interrupted, raising her voice. ’The point is: You and Elizabeth belong together and she’s really hurting right now so you better get your ass up there and apologise!' 

He scoffed in contempt, moving towards the bottle again. ‘I’m sure she made it pretty clear that she never wants to see me again.' 

‘Come on Drake!’ Hana snapped almost screaming at him as she snatched the bottle out of his reach. ‘You have to go after her! She needs you!' 

Drake laughed humourlessly, allowing bitterness to seep into his voice. ‘This isn’t some stupid fairytale Hana, where everything magically gets resolved at the end. This is real life and it hurts like a bitch.’ 

’That’s the way it is huh?’ A new voice broke through the room as another figure stood in the doorway. ‘You’re willing to throw away everything just because the going got a little bit tough.’ 

Drake gulped in spite of himself. ‘Liam I-‘ 

’Save it,’ his best friend growled, towering over him. ‘You’re going to shut up and listen to me. Outside that door somewhere, there is a woman that you have done unimaginable hurt to. She has every right to pack her bags and turn her back on us and our country in fact I don’t see how she hasn’t already. Do you know what she has decided to do instead?' 

Liam barely paused before continuing. ‘She has just agreed to go ahead with the wedding.’ 

Drake was stunned and before he could form a cohesive thought, his instincts kicked in. 

‘Hah! He spat venomously. ‘Don’t bullshit me Liam. I’m pretty sure she hates my guts right now. I highly doubt she’d be agreeing to still marry me.' 

Liam narrowed his eyes. 'Yes you heard me right. After all that you’ve put her through, she is still agreeing to marry you for reasons I myself cannot understand. I asked her multiple times if that's what she wanted and each time she said yes.’ 

Drake didn’t reply, he couldn’t, his tongue refused to cooperate as he thought of Elizabeth and what she was willing to go through. She was more resilient than most people credited her for and this gesture alone proved how much she loved Cordonia, a country she had barely heard of less than a year ago. This alone proved how well suited she was to be a Duchess and he’d gladly fight anyone who thought otherwise. 

'You don’t deserve her, you know that right?’ Hana put in and Drake caught a hint of disgust on her face. He sighed, feeling like he’d aged ten years. Of course he knew it. The very fact resonated deep within his soul and from that moment on, he vowed to spend every waking moment working to be even half the man she deserved. He still couldn’t fully believe that she was doing this. 

'Well thats where you’re wrong,’ Liam replied and Drake realised that he had spoken that last thought out loud. 'Pull yourself together, we’ve got a Unity Tour to get back to.’ 

A week later, Drake found himself in a limo sitting across from Elizabeth, Liam, Madeline and Mara as they travelled to Neville’s family estate on the Cormery Isle. The thunderstorm had flooded the road surrounding Kiara’s home, delaying their arrival at the Vancoeur earldom by a couple of days. In that time, he’d been hoping for a moment to talk to his fiancée, hoping to steal her attention at meal times when the whole group ate together but she seemed to disappear as soon as her plate was empty. He’d heard nothing from Kiara either and the two of them avoided each other like the plague, though he suspected that she’d convinced her parents to attend their wedding and joined the tour with little hesitation as a way to make up to Elizabeth. 

He risked a look at his fiancée who stared stoically out the window at the passing scenery. On the few occasions that they had talked, she regarded him with a cold indifference, limiting her responses to as few words as possible. He was at a loss on how to approach her, knowing that she would not make his path to redemption easy so for now the best course of action he could think of was to give her the space she needed until she was ready. This knowledge did nothing to ease his heart ache and on many occasions in the past few days he'd caught himself unconsciously reaching for her hand or leaning towards her, every cell in him aching for her touch again. He was still trying to formulate an opening to a conversation when Mara beat him to it. 

‘The Vancoeur estate is just up ahead. Your Majesty, Duchess, Mr Walker you should prepare yourselves for the welcome.�� 

He watched Elizabeth snap out of her thoughts, her expression changing as she smoothened her skirt, her posture immediately changing to become every bit the Duchess of Atlantea. Drake straightened his own tie and blazer, knowing full well that Neville would inevitably find something wrong with his appearance and wouldn’t hesitate to exploit any weakness while he held the home court advantage. The limo was just rolling up to the opulent driveway when Madeline spoke up. 

‘I hate to remind you Elizabeth but there will be cameras there so it is important to maintain the image…’ She trailed off, looking pointedly at Elizabeth’s left hand. 

‘Oh.’ His fiancee’s eyes widened, shifting to him for the first time in three days as she realised what her bodyguard was alluding to. 

Throughout the entire care ride, Drake had been wondering how to bring up the subject and he now produced the little black box from his pocket, offering it to her, unsure if she would allow him to place the ring on her finger as he’d done not so long ago. Without meeting his gaze and taking care not to let their skin touch, she slipped the gold band on her finger just in time for the doors to open.  

Neville Vancoeur, Earl of the Cormery Isle stood at the end of the long entranceway before a palatial mansion, garbed in his ever present khaki checked blazer, wearing a smug smile on his face. As Liam, Elizabeth and the rest of their party approached, he executed a deep bow which Drake could bet was precisely planned so that the photographers lining the fringes of the walkway could snap the perfect picture. 

‘Your Majesty, Your Grace,’ Neville began in a pompous tone, gesturing to the building behind him so grandiosely that Drake would have rolled his eyes if not for the flashes of the cameras surrounding them. ‘I welcome you to the Cormery Isle and our humble abode. And I am honoured to present my father Marquess Rupert Vancoeur.’ 

Drake took in the older man beside Neville whose expression seemed to resemble someone who'd had month old fish shoved under his nose. His beady eyes surveyed the group until they came to rest on Drake where they narrowed and his look of distaste seemed to intensify. When Rupert spoke, his magisterial tone seemed to surpass his son’s display of imperiousness. 

‘I echo my son’s sentiments King Liam, Duchess Elizabeth. It is an honour to have you and your companions in our humble abode. I trust you will find the Cormery Isle quite a luxury as compared to its more mediocre neighbours. I do hope that the journey wasn’t too perilous and if you would kindly accompany me, we can begin the tour of our estate.’ 

As Rupert showcased his expansive grounds, Drake could not avoid Neville’s shrewd gaze as he immediately singled him out, sidling up next to him. 

‘Drake, you must be impressed by the Cormery estate. It is not so often that commoners get the grand tour.’ 

Drake bit back a sharp reply, knowing it was best not to antagonise Neville especially when so much hung upon their entire visit. ‘It is lovely. You should be very proud.’ 

The other man quickly hid a look of surprise. ‘Its about time you learned to appreciate the finer things in life. On that subject.’ 

He gestured towards Elizabeth who was admiring a painting with Liam and Hana. ‘I confess to have observed that you don’t seem to be as devoted to your fiancee as you normally are. Could there be trouble in paradise?’ 

Drake knew that Neville was purposely pushing his buttons and deliberately kept his voice even. ‘We were just stuck in a limo together for three hours. I’m sure we can survive one tour without acting like we're conjoined at the hip.' 

Neville seemed to deflect his reply, regarding him cooly. ’That may be the case but I must say my father and I require a little more persuasion if we are going to play into this scheme of yours.’ 

 Neville sauntered off and Drake turned his attention back to the tour. 

‘Now we come to the heritage section of the house,’ Rupert was saying as he lead them down a medieval-looking hallway. ‘These walls have stood for over 300 years and require a great deal in terms of preservation but I must say one view in particular holds a special place in my heart.’ 

Their group was lead to a spacious parlour decorated tastefully with antique furniture. Light flooded in through the floor to ceiling windows that opened onto a generous sandstone balcony cordoned off by a metal railing looked out onto spectacular view of the ocean. The entire structure was artfully hewn from the sandstone cliffs atop which the mansion perched. It was easy to see why the Marquess favoured this place Drake mused as they admired the seascape. 

‘Its breathtaking,' Hana mused, taking a step closer, making to venture out onto the balcony itself. 

‘Careful my dear,’ Rupert cautioned. ‘The foundations aren’t as solid as they used to be and with the high sea winds this time of year, it would be very unfortunate if someone were to hurt themselves.’ 

With that, he retreated further into the centre of the room to address the group as they gathered around, his face morphing into a seemingly apologetic smile. 

‘Your Majesty, Duchess Elizabeth I must apologise for the unfortunate timing, but there is a press conference awaiting you in the media room a few doors away. I thought I had arranged it for tomorrow but I hope you can forgive an old man for a slight mishap in the dates...' 

A slight tremor rippled through the group and Drake’s eyes flew to Elizabeth, watching as her body stiffened in surprise. She met his gaze properly for the first time that afternoon, communicating the discomfort they both felt through the look, being careful not to let that show on their faces. They had barely spoken two words to each other in the last few days and now they were expected to face an army of reporters who with no doubt would have pressing questions about their engagement. One look at Neville’s smug face told him that this had not been a mere mistake but a cold, calculated move. 

‘Lord Rupert we couldn’t possibly begrudge you for such a small mishap when you are so generously hosting our entire party,’ Elizabeth answered politely, having recovered first. ‘My fiancé and I would gladly entertain a few questions about the tour thus far right Drake?’ 

‘Of course,’ he answered, coming to stand by her, forcing a smile. ‘It would be our pleasure.’ 

Surprisingly Madeline entered the conversation then. ‘My lord, as the duchess’ press secretary I would ask you for a brief moment, say twenty minutes or so in which we can prepare. I’m sure you understand given the timing..’ She trailed off, fixing Rupert with a pointed look. 

The Marquess agreed and soon they were escorted to room a few doors down and Drake was alone with Elizabeth, Madeline and Liam. 

‘That sly dog,’ Liam grunted after the door clicked shut. ‘He knew exactly what he was doing scheduling that press conference today. ’ 

‘Whatever his intentions were,’ Madeline interrupted. ‘We’ve got to face this I know we might not like Neville and his father, but the Marquess is one of the most influential people in western Cordonia, his approval would be very beneficial in swaying the opinions the nobles loyal to him. Not to mention this is the first formal press conference to be held during the tour. If you two nail this, it would be a powerful play in your favour.’ 

‘Right,’ Drake enunciated. ‘Basically don’t stuff this up or everything we’ve worked for will be for nothing.’ 

‘I’d tell you otherwise but I’d be lying,’ Liam answered, looking tentatively between the two of them. ‘Are you sure you can handle this?' 

‘We’ll be fine,’ Elizabeth grunted through gritted teeth. 

‘I’ll be on standby to deflect any curveballs,’ Madeline promised. 

They ran over a few more details before a soft knock on the door indicated it was time. Risking a glance at her, Drake offered Elizabeth his arm. 

‘For appearances sake?’ 

She nodded once and laced her hand on the crook of his elbow, the pressure where she touched him causing his skin to tremble. Their practices smiles seamlessly appeared on their faces as the doors opened and they were immediately bombarded with questions. 

‘Duchess Elizabeth, Mr Walker, you are halfway through the tour, what can you tell us about your relationship so far?,’ a reporter called out.  

'What preparations have you done for the wedding?’ Another cried. 

They took their seats before Elizabeth reached for the microphone. ‘In answer to the first question, I can say that Drake and I are very happy together, this tour has only brought us closer as we have journeyed all over this beautiful country, getting a taste of all the wonderful things Cordonia has to offer.’ 

‘I agree with my fiancee,’ Drake added, impressed at how easily the lies came to both of them. ‘Our bond has only grown stronger as we travel this beautiful country together. As for the wedding preparations, King Liam has generously offered to host the wedding at the royal palace and I can confirm that Elizabeth and I will both be fitted for our wedding attire next week when the tour makes its way towards Cordonia’s fashion capital.’ 

A chorus of ‘awws' broke out from behind the cameras before the next question was pitched at them. 

'Your engagement is an event that is meant to bring the country together. How do you feel that your relationship has done that so far?’ Elizabeth nodded, indicating for him to answer as she took a sip of water. 

They alternated in answering more questions until a familiar paparazzo Donnie Brine stepped up. 

'In the light of the recent burning of Applewood orchard, what are you two personally doing to unify Cordonia? Do you feel that your efforts thus far have been successful?'

There was the curveball they had been expecting and Drake silently thanked Madeline for preparing them as he and Elizabeth delivered their pre-approved response to which the reporter nodded approvingly as he scribbled furiously on his notepad. 

'And looking into the future now…’ Ana De Luca chimed in. 'Has the subject of children come up? How many are you expecting to have?’ 

This time it was Drake who froze, caught off guard entirely. The topic had come up before between the two of them but he was sure that such a question couldn’t have been further from either of their minds as their main focus, especially in the last week, had been the tour and protecting the facade. The click of a camera shutter broke the spell and Elizabeth cleared her throat, adjusting the microphone before she spoke. 

‘Yes we’ve talked about it before and while we are open to having a family, we believe that, at least for the near future, Cordonia requires our services and she will be our priority for now.’ 

With that Madeline swiftly closed the press conference with a parting remark and the press members began to pack up their equipment. Drake was finally breathing a sigh of relief when an unfamiliar reporter stood up, his question ringing clear above the noise.   

'There were rumours of a falling out between the two of you earlier in the tour. Can you comment on these Your Grace? Mr Walker?’ 

His loud voice attracted the attention of his peers around him and several of them paused in their task, turning their attention to the pair of them. This time the astonishment written all over Drake and Elizabeth’s faces was not so easily hidden and the expectant silence only drew the attention of the remainder of the journalists, some began clicking their cameras. 

‘Thank you for your question but the press conference is over,’ Madeline intervened swiftly. 

Another press member lobbed a question, ignoring her. ‘I heard that you two had a fight whilst at Lady Kiara’s family estate. Did she have anything to do with it?’ ‘Was there conflict between you two about the cheating rumours?’ 

A gasp rippled through the crowd of journalists as they turned their full attention to the pair of them. Red hot anger flowed through Drake's body as question after question was hurled at them. Madeline tried desperately to regain order in the room but even her authoritative voice was lost amid the clamour as cameras flashed wildly and waves of reporters pressed insistently against them on all sides. By this time, Mara and her team had grabbed Elizabeth and Drake, making towards the exit but their path was blocked by a flock of microphones being shoved in their faces. 

Elizabeth’s breathing quickened, her chest expanding and contracting irregularly as she stood next to him, frozen to the spot, her eyes growing more and more unfocused as the din spiralled out of control. He could feel her heart rate escalate from where the crowd pressed her against him and it hit him that she was showing  signs of a panic attack. Wrapping one arm around his fiancee, Drake used the other one to shove the bodies of the reporters aside, ignoring their grunts of protest as his only priority now was to get her out of the room. After a few moments of struggle, his hand found purchase on the door handle and he gave it an almighty wrench before he stumbled through it, bringing her with him out into the empty hallway while Mara and her team restrained the paparazzi members.

Drake whirled on his fiancee, catching her shoulders, steadying her as she hyperventilated. 

‘Elizabeth talk to me. What do you need?' 

Her breath came out in uneven gasps as she struggled to form words around it. ‘I need… Drake I can’t… I need air… Can’t… breathe.’ 

He loped an arm under her legs, her hands coming around his neck as she clung to him with all her might. His mind scrambled trying to remember the directions and soon enough they entered a familiar room. He threw open the balcony doors and set her down, rubbing her back gently as the cool wind immediately rushed in, whipping her hair around her face. 

Eventually her breathing return to a normal rhythm and his hand on her back slowed its movements. 

‘Are you ok?’ He asked carefully and Elizabeth nodded lethargically, the colour gradually returning to her face.   

She leaned her weight on his side and they remained like that for a long moment. It felt good to hold her again and the warmth radiating off her form reminded Drake how much he had missed her touch in the past few days. 

‘We could have avoided this if you hadn’t insisted on going through with the engagement.’ His words were intended to soothe her but instead they had the opposite effect and her. 

'Really Drake?’ Elizabeth snapped, tugging herself out of his grip and his body seemed to ached at the loss of contact. ’Are you actually blaming this on me? At a time like this?’   

‘I didn’t mean it that way Richmond, come on. You know that,’ He fumbled, trying and failing to backpedal. 

‘Sure.. Please elaborate then.’ She retorted and everything about her body language continued to warn him to stay away. Her lips were drawn into a scowl, arms crossed over her chest, and gaze fixated fiercely on him but Drake knew he had to try, try something, anything to gain back her trust. He’d hurt her in an unimaginable way by hiding the truth and he’d be damned if he didn't exhaust every option he had to get her back. 

‘What I meant was,’ he began uncertainly, not wanting to antagonise her any further. ‘Maybe we handled this too fast, maybe getting back together right away wasn’t the best idea…' 

‘Well if you thought this was a bad idea why didn’t you say something?!’ She exclaimed with a loud sigh. ‘I’m going to look like a total idiot when the press finds out. They’ll have a field day with it. I can just see the headlines now "New Duchess Turns Down Yet Another Proposal. Are Cordonian Men Too Tame For the Wild Foreigner?”’ 

Her shrill voice carried over the heavy wind as she paced along the far border of the balcony, not caring if the strong wind ruined her perfectly coiffed updo. 

'Richmond,’ Drake warned, caution heavy in his voice as he took a few steps towards her, reaching an arm. ‘Maybe you should come away from the railing.’ 

‘No, don’t touch me!’ she yelled, jerking out of his reach.’I don’t need to you to coddle me.’ 

‘Ok I won’t!’ He shouted back, strain from the last few days emerging in his tone, causing him to raise his voice. ‘I’m sorry for worrying about your safety Elizabeth.’ His use of her first name caused her to breathe in sharply and she opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. 

 ‘Do you think this has been easy for me? These last couple of days have been utter hell for me, watching the woman I’m supposed to be marrying want nothing to do with me.' 

Her eyes blazed at his words. ‘Way to make it me seem like the bad guy! Don’t turn this when you’re the one that cheated. You’re just bitter that you got caught.’ 

‘You know damn well thats a fucking lie. Now get away from that edge before you do something stupid.' 

‘Ugh nothing is going to happen Drake!’ Elizabeth barked. 'Stop treating me like a damn child. I am FINE!' 

As if to illustrate her point, she stamped forcefully in anger against the worn surface of the balcony. Large cracks immediately spiralled outwards from where her foot had made contact with the floor and they both gasped, belatedly remembering the Marquess’ warning. 

‘Don’t make any sudden moves Richmond. I’ll come to you,’ Drake instructed carefully, looking around for a rope or any thing she could grab onto but came up empty. 

‘Gee you think?’ She quipped but her voice wavered as the fractures began to grow. ‘Any day now Walker.’ 

He inched his way towards the edge of the cracking, crouching down to lower his centre of gravity as he stuck a hand out at her. 

’Now you’re going to do what I just did and get nice and low.’ Drake had no idea if what he was doing was correct. He’d seen a few videos about saving people who had fallen through ice and frantically applied some of the technique to this situation while trying to maintain a calm facade. This should work, he thought to himself. 

Right? 

He had no time to doubt himself as Elizabeth had done as he instructed and was now reaching towards him. As she shifted, the expanding cracks widened even more and her lower lip began to wobble. 

‘It's going to be alright,’ he soothed, fighting to keep his voice even. ‘Just focus on me baby. Now you’re gonna reach out and grab my hand okay?’ Drake watched her swallow hard, blinking back tears as she reached towards him. 

Just before their fingers could touch however, the gaps between the cracks widened even more and chunks of the floor began to give way. Elizabeth's eyes met his, blown wide with in pure terror. 

 ‘Drake I-'   

She never got to finish her sentence as Drake watched in horror, her name ripping through his throat as the brittle flooring of the balcony crumbled, plunging the only woman he’d ever loved down the cliff face to the rocks below. 

-

A/N: I just know y’all are SCREAMING so I’m gonna leave the link to my ask box here so you can conspire with me on what will happen next.  

Tags:  @chantelle-x0x @choicessa @topsyturvy-dream  @lovemyrestingplacethings @xxrainbowprincessxx @american-duchess @limacity-girl @withice @sir-wigglesworth @boneandfur @ayo-minty-jess @ninamckenzie22 @drakelover78 @h3llostrang3r @cocomaxley @zarina-x-zig  @nicestrokepam @pbchoicesobsessed @bizzyschoices @lizeboredom @kellyale1804 @mrswalkerreynolds @mariawalkerwrites @kamybelen-blog @hhiggs @jenjosh5 @bruhvs @boxhound34 @natalievgoodehenry @theroyalweisme

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[tamiddyinyourcity]

I was almost over the patrick situation, buuuut then i realized I've not only been so in edge lately because of some of the fuckass people at work...... but, i might be holding in certain emotions and not releasing them.

1:16am. Bad night. Need to forget.

Got my wine. And my emotions.

So.... I almost felt over Patrick. This new guy I'm talking to has been pretty fun so far, sharing r&b music tastes and whatnot. He's chill, a bit older than the people I usually prefer to date. (As if I haven't been with legitimate boomers....)

It's only a ten year age difference. And between the new guy and any exes ive had, then only eight years or so apart. Not a huge difference, thank god.

And I had this like... empty feeling, lately.

Not like an empty, "i am darkness, i feel nothing" sort of angst that i felt the previous weeks. Yes, edgy.

More of a, "I care, to an extent, but what is the point?", numbness.

Like I've officially stopped seeing him through rose colored glasses.

Once the lust somewhat subsided today, (slightly..... slightly,) then the rest was just.... "What did I like about him? Do I feel anything towards him at all by now? Why do i feel so numb to any sort of emotions relating to him?"

It could be that I haven't seen him for a week and a half. And since he accused me of whatever the fuck he accused me of when he was high, I lost an interest in trying to get common sense out of someone who responded to anything I said like a brick wall.

I just.... lost interest.

My period came and went. It's hard to focus on your unreciprocated feelings for your ex, when you're too busy spending an hour at a time, trying to forcibly remove a stuck diva cup from inside of you. (Sometimes more than just an hour.... it was a mess. Periods are a sin.)

And then I eventually decided to get laundry done, remove a bunch of garbage from my hoarder-esque looking bedroom.... I felt good.

Spent money on a bunch of sundresses to wear, now that the sun is out, and I wanted to feel flirty again.... So I did.

I bought trader joes non msg fried rice, hella wine, and more.

And i felt.... good. Confident. Kind of proud of myself. And just happy to be figuring out how it feels to love myself again, to the point of not desiring someone else for the sake of validation or a decent time.

.......

Somethings still a little off.

I guess, I'm sad at the idea of losing feelings for someone I genuinely felt for. I hated that concept. He always told me that he would need to be at the point where at least 3 months had passed, for him to 100% lose feelings for me, and forget our past.

But, that really sucks, my dude. I'm tearing up, not gonna lie.

Since of course if for months, I think, "God, this boy is gorgeous. Literally amazing. I hope things end well between us, and that we don't lose touch...."

It feels like total shit, if things end like total shit.

I never wanted to break up with him in the first place, is what makes it suck most. Imagine if the night never had to be cut short by us arguing near the lake. Or the altercation in the McDonald's parking lot. Or most recently, if he just told me how he felt. Those are things I wish went differently, but its out of my hands right now.

And maybe last Friday, I thought, "What a fucking piece of shit, i hate this prick."

But, I don't anymore.

And maybe last Wednesday, I thought, "He deserves an apology for how badly the last time I saw him went. I should make another letter, but still not linger."

........

Now, I'm indifferent. Indifference is a terrible thing to feel for a person. Since with hatred, you still care somewhat about a person. Even if its, "God, youre such a fucking dick", you still feel a sort of passion towards the person.

But indifference is when you no longer care about a person at all anymore.

Like how I feel indifferent to Marco. I don't hate him enough to keep him out of my life, but I don't like him enough to let him in by choice. He comes, he cums, he goes. Or, thats how it used to go. Usually with a trail of broken promises and lovebombing for the sake of manipulation. Which made me loathe him further.

But now, I pity him. It's his millionth time going back to his toxic ex. And millionth time trying to cheat on her. I find him sad. The way he will spam me with tons and tons of messages about desiring me, but, still being quick to toss me aside, sexually or non sexually.... He lies and gets the hopes up for no reason.

If Marco fell on train tracks and needed my help to get him off the tracks before the train makes him roadkill, I wouldn't laugh at him. Nor help him. I would just calmly walk away. If he survives, cool. If not, dont care.

Indifference is.... not a fun emotion to have towards someone you had feelings for.

....

I guess if Patrick were in the situation, I'd help him up.

So, its not truly indifference. Its just.... losing hope for us. I doubt I cross his mind by now, he's always seemed to be better at the whole "leaving a relationship and still having your hobbies and friendships intact" thing that i hadnt excelled at previously before.....

I don't hate him, you know? And I did want to apologize, or get my emotions out in a positive, and healthy manner. I don't like going down the route of violence, and would probably flip shit if someone ever hurt him. So, yknow, i should probably follow my own standards of how i think he deserves good treatment.....

But, i dont know if I could handle face to face.

Would i try to kiss him? Would i get attached, or be repulsed? What if i felt absolutely nothing? What if he feels nothing? Or feels something?

Would just giving him a letter on his porch instead of trying to see his disappointed face again be satisfying? I dont know.

And of course, which is better....

Leaving him alone and forcing myself into other things

Telling the man, who is not your man, yet again how you feel just to embarrass yourself some more.

I've had too much wine, and a long night. Yime to fickig sleepem