#fuck this is why i spent 2 hours writing shit down my memory is so SHIT
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i feel so silly being anxious about my ENT appointment at 930 đĽ´
#it's a new place new doctor so obvs im stressed#but the dr being a man đĽ´đĽ´ it was a referral so i can't choose đĽ´đĽ´#i think i feel especially stressed bc i have 3 issues i need to talk about and im worried he's gonna get annoyed / brush them off#i've seen an ENT about 1 of these issues back in 2012 and welp my dumb ass didn't bully my parents into letting me get the surgery so#i've been struggling w this shit all this time also i meant 2013 đ§đ˝ââď¸#the other issues are my jaw popping painfully ever since july +#what the hell was the other one#fuck this is why i spent 2 hours writing shit down my memory is so SHIT#throat pain#really bad throat pain that hasn't fucked off since july 2023#it hurts to talk n i haven't been able to sing since last summer. what if i just [rembers no say the thing because Bad] Shit myself#that one appointment in june when i couldn't see my usual doctor and i had to see this other lady this mfer said wELL i dUnNo It'S nOt LiKe#i CAn diAgnOsE yOu wITh a cHronIc SorE ThRoaT hEh#annoying ass doctor no wonder my usual doctor is always booked#pls universe pls let this doctor b a decent person who actually tries 2 help mee#đĽ´đĽ´đĽ´đĽ´#221am goodbye#scarlett.txt#negative /#WHINYYYYYYY#god i always worry i sound like a paranoid hypochondriac at the doctor's but my body really is like this Please#ugh i still have at least 3 more appointments at 3 new places this year#eye and dermatologist in dec and the other thing once i get off my ass and send in that packet#at least i don't have my monthly follow up w my pcp anymore..#unrelated but i need to buy some new masks in black#and a cardigan#okay that really had nothijgnto do with anything stfu scarlett
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trip 2
Feb 25, 2023. 12am. i started looking at pictures of silken. she felt so unreal. i realised that the relationship i had with her was dead. i had tried to keep alive and resurrect the relationship through the songs i listened to, the images i would look at of her, the letters and messages i would write to her. i got out of bed and felt how cold and skinny i was, and i thought âi was a ghoul.â i experienced strong ego death at this time. i started playing music that reminded me of silken and realised that i had spent only 6 or 7 months with her, but two years pining after her like a sick puppy. i had built up this mental image of her based on memories, songs, and toxic rumination. the person that she was in my head had become largely my own creation, rather than an accurate reflection of who she was as a person. i started to picture her in my head, and what struck me was how empty her eyes looked, which made me start to panic. i thought to myself that she was not the kind and caring person that i thought she was. i didn't really know her true heart the way i knew rachel's. rachel was alive to me, my other ex had stopped being alive to me a long time ago. there was a time where i would send her hella messages when i was drunk, when i knew she would never respond. this was me trying to revive a dead relationship. i had this very strong hallucination where silken was dead and i was desperately shaking her, begging her to wake up again. i got up and went to the washroom. i felt how cold and skinny i was, and i started to think that i was a "ghoul." i kept saying, "i am a ghoul and you are my ghoul bride" in my head to silken. i then decided that there was a dark entity within me that had been feeding off of my negative thoughts and emotions since i was small, and that this being grew stronger when i thought bad shit about silken. at this point, i had forgotten who i was. i tried to remember, but i couldn't grasp onto anything. it was as if i was being swept away by some weird fucked up demonic current. i had a few seconds of lucidity, during which i decided that i would use the trip to exorcise the demon instead of me, as well as all remaining feelings towards silken. i started to speak, but i spoke as if i was the dark entity inside of me. i said, "i am older than any human, i have been inside of you since you are a child, i hate humanity, i cannot stand humanity, and you cannot defeat me." every word i spoke conjured up very horrific images in my head. i closed my eyes and felt myself going through a long tunnel. i landed in what i thought was the stomach of a demon that was also a nightclub for demonic creatures. they were screaming at me, "you thought this would be fun, didn't you? now we're going to show you how we get down!" i pictured silken in a casket, but the casket was a subway car. i jumped into the casket and said "let me die with you!" this kind of stuff went on for about an hour. it felt like an eternity.â but the demon entity showed me that it was weakened when i worshipped god and when i showed/received loved from others. the darkness also told me that it would try and infect others. i tried to hang on to my own thoughts and said that i would try and exorcise the darkness with this trip.Â
i felt at some point, the trip devolved to the point where meaning, language, everything just broke down into the fundamental units of consciousness. i felt like i was in a primordial soup of consciousness. i kept trying to think of God, and i kept trying to make sense of what was going on, figure out what it all meant to me as a Christian. but i kept getting swept the fuck away into existential disorientation. itâs impossible to describe. it is disorienting in a spirtitual, mental, and emotional way. i felt the breakdown of all of those realities. i was very frightened. there were points in the trip when i doubted godâs existence bc i could not feel him and i could not understood why he had made us with the ability to feel these things. i read psalm 143, and this marked the start of my trip reversal, perhaps of the passageâs spiritual power, perhaps bc the shrooms were wearing off. i thought that woman who promotes shrooms on youtube, julianne keu, was the devil, and that i could defeat her if i busted a nut while masturbating to her. then i decided to tell people that everything i had experienced, i had seen in a dream:Â âi had seen a demon who told me this that this that, and that he told me he was weakened by this and that, and that he went away when i recited verses 11-12 of psalm 143. and as a result of this, i am left with two thoughts: god is more powerful than we can ever imagine (which i felt profoundly during first two trips) and evil is very real (i felt that all evil is connected). only went to sleep at 8am.Â
this is what i wrote trying to make sense of it: "What if people with seizure disorders are somehow more in touch with the divine? Or perhaps God works through the same structure as seizures, so that they and experiences with God can easily be confused for one another? Yes, after doing a demonic dosage of shrooms, i think that is what it is. I just felt like i went through hell, but i know i didn't. Whether it's seizure visions or shroom hell, our brains can only give us pale facsimiles of what spiritual life (being w God) and spiritual death (being apart from God) really are. There is another reality, a spiritual reality which transcends this life. God gave us personalities for a reason, and we will keep them after death, for they are separate from but attached to our souls. I feel that God is a being who mastered all of physical and spiritual reality and wants to save us from the hell of absolute chaos, which he tamed. He made us in his image in that we were originally spiritually sober, seeing the truth, but with original sin, we became drunk. The spiritual and the physical, which were once united (each eternal) were separted, with death introduced into physical reality and spiritual reality. According to a plan only God knows, the physical cannot be saved from death. But He wants us to be saved spiritually, so He sent Christ. The free will paradox is still unsolved, tho CS lewis is on the right track. There is a higher spiritual reality which seizures, drugs, etc can only offer pale glimpses of. God brings order. We know this is not all just in our brains bc just like we are bigger than cells, God is much bigger than us. To him, we might as well be cells, Â but he loves us. Sin is just putting the self ahead of God, trying to become God. It is like a cell wanting to be greater than us, if we loved that cell and were united with him. It is pride. Sin is thinking we can transcend our humanity and conquer chaos like God did, so that we may become his equals. The forbidden fruit was the spiritual equivalent of shrooms or lsd. Once we ate it, we saw a different spiritual plane and could not go back to how we were. This is a metaphor for evolution and its cognitive effects. God loved us too much to let us be apart from Him, so sin was infinite bc God's love is infinite. But He already had a plan. We chose independence/free will or its illusion over Him, but God even used this for His will and our good. I think people are antennas and brain disorders or drugs allow us to tune into diff frequencies than we normally can access. Thus, spiritual and neurological phenomena cannot easily be distinguished. That night, i think i received a demon signal that surged through me and caused a dark entity to rise to the surface and possess me. Or perhaps the ego death primed me for this demon signal or possession."
two biggest lessons:
- God is very real, and he is very powerful, and i must seek him. He is something that is much more potent than a psychedelic, and i can experience everything i can with shrooms or acid with Him, if only i rely on him and not on drugs.
- Evil is also real, something left me that day (a demon? emotional demon?) and i cannot risk having it come back, nor can i risk feeding and growing something like it inside me again. so i cannot hate others like i used to.
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Between the Shelves - Part 3
ITâS FINALLY HERE!! Iâm so sorry for the delay on this, I moved to a new city and had intense writerâs block. Thank you for all the encouragement!! It means so much to me as this was my first fanfic and first stab at writing in a long time. Also fair warning that in this chapter the vibe shifts from flirty romcom to straight up filth...
Stephen Strange x Bookstore Owner! Reader
Part 1 Part 2
Warnings: 18+, smutty smut smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, daddy kink, size kink sort of
Stephen POV
After the Avengers briefing, Stephen spent the entire night and the morning of your date making sure there would be no distractions or interruptions. He had checked in with Fury about potential threats being monitored, talked with each of the other Sanctumâs masters to ensure everything was in order, and triple checked the seals of his own sanctuary.Â
The two of you agreed to meet at an Italian restaurant nearby your apartment. You mentioned it was a favorite of yours, so he jumped at the suggestion.Â
With an hour to go before the dinner reservation, Stephen started getting dressed. It was a little early, but he had already ran through his to-do list. Being ready a bit early was better than being alone with his anxiety about tonightâs date. Flirting at your store fifteen minutes at a time, and even the oral sex yesterday, was one thing. Going on a proper date where the doctor would have to be charming for a few hours, charming enough to get another dateâŚthat was a different beast entirely. He worried the spark the two of you had would be extinguished outside the comfortable bubble of your store. On top of it all, it had just been so damn long since heâd done this.
Ignoring the nerves eating away at him, he dressed himself in a black suit jacket and pants with a white button down underneath, the top button undone in an attempt to be casual. He decided against a tie, not wanting to come off as stiff.
Thatâs too bad. She would look so good with a tie stuffed in her mouth, muffling those pretty moansâ
Shoving those ideas aside as well, Stephen focused on fixing his hair. He was nervousâŚbut also desperate to fuck you. Heâd quite literally gotten a taste yesterday and was starving for more. His cock twitched in his dress pants at the memories of you on his tongue. You were so tight around just his fingers, he couldnât wait to feel that around his dick.
He checked his reflection once more before heading out of his bedroom just ten minutes before your date was set to begin. Standing in the foyer of the Sanctum, Stephen was about to conjure a portal when he heard Americaâs voice coming closer. Too preoccupied with his thoughts about the impending date, he had not taken the time to check if the Sanctum was empty.
Oh shit.
America, Mordo, and Wong entered the room, inquisitive expressions on their faces as they took in Stephenâs attire.
âWhere are you headed?â, Mordo questioned with amusement in his eyes.
âOut,â Stephen replied, hoping he sounded nonchalant.
âOut where?â, Wong implored.
âWhy are you dressed so weird?â, America said at the same time.
âIâm going toâŚa play. And Iâm dressed nice, not weird.â Stephen paused. âDo I look weird? The suit looks good? Right?â
âYesâŚit looks fine, Strange,â Wong replied, confused as to why Stephen was asking him for fashion advice for the first time in their many years of friendship.
âOkay, thanks. Iâll see you all later,â the doctor mumbled in a huff before creating a portal and rushing out.
Reader POV
Despite buzzing with excitement, you did your best to focus at work. The hours until your date couldnât pass fast enough. After closing, you hurried home to get ready. Luckily you had resolved the debate over what to wear last night after a thorough, hour long inspection of your closet.Â
Once you got home, you immediately went to take a shower to freshen up and, frankly, calm down. You were giddy, moderately nervous, and unbelievably horny all at the same time. Taking a few deep breaths under the stream of hot water, you promised yourself to stay composed the whole night.
Oh my god, I havenât seen him completely naked yet.
Composure went out the shower door as your fingers found their way to your clit, lightly circling the pleasure point as you imagined the toned, bare form of your favorite Avenger. Memories of his lean, muscular body pressed tight against yours filled your brain. You moaned aloud recalling the feel of his strong thighs under your hands.Â
Ten minutes and an orgasm later, you were dried off and ready to start primping. You left your hair down in loose, wavy curls and lightly made up your face to give it a natural look. However, your favorite part was the dress. Despite rarely worn, it was one of your best purchases: a sexy red number with spaghetti straps and a high slit up the side. You worried it was too sultry for a first dateâŚuntil you remembered that you had your dateâs tongue in your pussy yesterday. Coming on too strong wasnât really an issue here.
Plus, you knew the famous Doctor Strange would love seeing you in red.
After finishing off the look with black strappy heels and minimalist gold jewelry, you grabbed your purse and headed out.Â
Stephen POV
Quickly shutting the portal behind him, Stephen arrived in the alley next to the restaurant. The two of you had decided to be discreet to avoid unwanted attention, so opening a portal in the middle of the street wasnât an option. Taking it a step further, Stephen applied a glamour charm on himself. Those who knew him well would see his true face, while strangers and fans would be tricked by the spell. The sorcerer wanted no interruptions tonight. Making his way to the front, he awaited your arrival.Â
âStephen,â he heard, turning to the left to see you walking his way.Â
Heâd never seen you dressed like this. Your usual outfits were soft, dainty little pieces featuring lots of florals. Granted, you still drove him crazy with ample cleavage and short hemlines, but he had never seen you in something thisâŚprovocative.Â
Fuck, just portal back to the Sanctum and tie her to the bed.Â
Stephenâs cock throbbed at the idea, but the rational parts of him decided against it. For now, at least.
âHi sweetness, you lookâŚgorgeous,â he remarked in awe, while gathering you in his arms for a hug. He felt the brush of your lips against his cheek before pulling away.Â
âThank you,â you replied with a light blush. âYou donât look too bad either.â
âHigh praise,â Stephen noted with a sarcastic tone. He placed his hand on the small of your back and you leaned into his side. âLetâs head inside.â
Reader POV
The restaurant was adorned in romantic lighting set by warm bulbs, a number of candles across the tables, and the glass baubles hanging from the ceiling, casting reflections around the room. You and Stephen had been seated in a secluded corner of the restaurant, at a small round table decorated with a vase full of wildflowers.
The waiter had just finished taking your drink orders: white wine for yourself and a martini for him. Although, you were surprised you managed to even get the words out to order considering your mouth had gone dry at the sight of Stephen in a suit.
Oh fuck dinner, just climb into his lap and ride him until your legs give out.
You always had an active sexual imagination and a healthy libido, but since the doctor entered your life even you could be surprised at how horny your thoughts turned. Fighting against your carnal urges, you focused on the menu and engaged Stephen in conversation about the few times you had been here before. You were not just trying to get in bed with him and needed to convey that. This was more than just sex to you.
Within a few minutes of talking, you had already begun to relax in Stephenâs presence. Former worries about your compatibility subsided while he talked about his work. He had recounted anecdotes about his mystical and superhero duties during your conversations in the past, which you could tell were thinly veiled attempts to impress you. However, this was much more personal than stories of which monster he valiantly fought that week.
âShe nearly blew a hole in the front doors of the Sanctum,â he said with a chuckle. âWong would have been furious if it was anyone else but America.â
You laughed once more at the antics of his colleagues. So far you had learned about two of his close friends, Wong and Mordo, the latter of which you found out was the reason he originally entered your store.Â
Your heart was melting at the fondness and care in his voice when talking about his teenage apprentice. It was clear that the relationship was more than just mentor and mentee. He viewed her as family, just as he did his friends. You found yourself fantasizing about what a good father he would be.
Sweet Jesus, can my ovaries calm down?
Stephen asked about your work, prompting you to share stories of interesting customers and memories of the shopâs early days. Despite feeling insecure about how boring your life must seem compared to his, the Avenger seemed enraptured by the conversation and prodded you for details.Â
By the time the food came out, you were feeling completely at ease with him. By the time you were halfway done with your entree, the two of you had inched closer and closer until the distance was just shy of being indecent. By the time you finished, his hand had come to rest on your knee.
The combination of his touch, the two glasses of wine you had, and the ought to be illegal sight of Stephen in a suit was too much to take. You were only human, how long could you be expected to keep this level of arousal at bay? Besides, you had a surprise for him.
âYou know, I took your advice,â you said casually.Â
âWhat advice,â he questioned, mirth in his pretty blue eyes.
You hand rested atop the one he had placed on your knee, and then began guiding it up your exposed leg through the slit of your dress. His eyes widened in surprise, but Stephen made no attempt to stop the dangerous game you were playing. As your joined hands moved higher up your leg, he understood what you were alluding to.Â
With his fingers on your bare hip, you remarked in an innocent tone, âYou told me to go without. It was a good idea. Now I donât have to worry about panty lines in this outfit.â
You brought his hand from out under your dress and placed it on his own knee. He was silent, his eyes dark and his face serious. After a few moments of silence, his arm came up to rest on the back of your chair. You nearly choked on your wine when you felt the zipper of your dress fall every so slightly. His calloused thumb gently stroked the newly exposed skin on your back, while his other fingers remained on the zipper.
âStephen, weâre in public,â you warned in a hushed voice.
âExactly. And thereâs just a single zipper and two little straps keeping me from taking you right hereâŚin public.â
You whimpered at the suggestion, your thighs clenching together under the tablecloth. The zipper fell lower.
âYou wouldnât even mind, would you? You want my cock so badly, you wouldnât even care if I gave it to you right here. Your pretty body bent over the table, completely naked, while I slam into your tight cunt from behind. Everyoneâs eyes on you, watching you turn into my wrecked little slut.â
âStephenââ
âWhoâs Stephen? You know my name, sweetness. Say it,â he whispered, hot breath fanning across your ear. He dragged the zipper down further, and the straps on your shoulders were beginning to fall. A little more and your breasts would be spilling out the top.
âDaddy,â you breathed as your eyes fluttered shut.
âGood girl.âÂ
The zipper was pulled up and his hand came up to rest at the nape of your neck. Hearing footsteps approaching the nook you and Stephen were seated in, you opened your eyes and saw the waiter approach.
âIs there anything else I can get for you? A dessert menu?â, he probed with a friendly smile, unaware of the sexual charge in the atmosphere.
âNo thank you, just the check please,â Stephen replied coolly, as if the previous filth he spewed in your ear about defiling you in front of an audience hadnât been spoken.
A wave of defiance ran through you as the waiter walked away. You tugged Stephen closer by one of the lapels on his suit jacket and complained, âBut Daddy, I wanted dessert.â
His free hand grasped your upper thigh and squeezed hard.
âDonât worry sweetness. Iâll share mine when we get to your place.â
Stephen POV
After paying the bill, Stephen promptly grabbed you by the hand and exited the restaurant. Entering the alley, he pulled his sling ring out to conjure a portal to your apartment. You both stepped through and were led to the hallway just outside your door.Â
He could have had you two walk directly into the bedroom, but he enjoyed the sight of you scrambling to find the keys in your purse. The task would be probably be a lot easier if Stephen was not behind you, sucking a bruise onto the side of your neck. His hands grasped your sides, slender fingers spreading across your ribcage and inching dangerously close to the swell of your breasts. He pressed his erection against you and you abandoned the search in your purse to bend over slightly, grinding your ass on his cock.Â
Stephen bit down on your neck to stifle a groan. With a wave of his hand, your keys were levitating out of your purse and into the lock. While he did love to watch you squirm in his arms, he didnât want one of your neighbors to come out and see the two of you dry humping in the hallway.
Once inside, he pressed you up against the door and slotted your legs together. He knew you were aching for some relief as you used this as an opportunity to shamelessly grind down on his thigh.
âSweet girl, are you making a mess on Daddyâs suit?â, he questioned in between leaving sensual kisses on your neck.
âNo,â you lied, your hips still rocking against him.Â
âWell if you need some assistanceâŚâ Stephen trailed off as he sank to his knees. The urgency from yesterdayâs frisky encounter at your shop was gone. His hands trailed up your legs slowly, bringing the material of the dress up with them. He let out a heaving exhale breath right against your cunt once it was revealed to him, before dragging his goatee against the insides of your thighs.Â
âPlease, please donât tease,â you begged.Â
âYou asked for it,â he rasped before raising one of your legs over his shoulder and pressing his face into your aching core. He went straight for your clit, alternating between tracing it with his tongue and flicking it. He looked up to see you writhing above him, your head falling back against the door with a thud. You hands fisted in his hair, making him groan into your cunt and sending vibrations throughout your middle.
âFuck me! Please, please fuck me,â you moaned in desperation. Despite how achingly hard he was, he was not about to give into your pleas for more just yet.Â
âBut sweetness, Iâve been waiting for so long. I want to take my time with you, I barely got a taste yesterday,â he replied, his fingers replacing his mouth while he talked.
âBarely? I came on your face!â
âYes but only once. When I fantasized about finally taking you, my goal was to get you there three times.â
âYou think youâre going to make me cum three times? Someoneâs confident,â you teased. He quickly put an end to your backtalk with a smack to your cunt, making you cry out.
âIâm going to make you cum three times on my tongue tonight. Weâll find out how many times you can take it on my cock,â he rasped against your core before continuing his assault on your pussy. His hands kept you pressed against the door, unrelenting against your bucking hips. The doctor was drunk off the taste of you, lapping across the length of your slit and devouring all the arousal you leaked. Hearing you cry out from above only spurred him on further and soon he felt your thighs shaking next to his ears as you came on his face.
Reader POV
After the earth shattering orgasm you had against your front door, you had to hold onto Stephenâs form given how shaky your legs were. He smirked before picking you up bridal style. You yelped in surprise, but didnât hate the feeling of being in his arms like this.Â
âBedroom?â, the sorcerer asked.
âDoor at the end of the hall,â you replied.
He carried you across your apartment and laid you down on the soft white sheets of your bed. You reached out for him, but he remained standing. His movements were slow and controlled as you watched him take his jacket off and lay it on the back of your vanity chair. His eyes never left yours as he undid the buttons on his shirt before removing his belt and shoes. Your mouth was agape and nearly drooling at the sight of his exposed torso.Â
âAre you alright to stand, sweetness? As much as Iâve enjoyed it tonight, I think we should get you out of that dress.â
You complied wordlessly, moving off the bed to stand before him. He turned you around to finally undo the zipper of your dress, removing the straps from your shoulders and revealing your body to him. He turned you again and let out a shuddering breath at the sight of you. Once more he dropped to his knees, but this time to tenderly undo the straps of your heels and lift you out of them. The intimacy of the action was too much and left your legs wobbly once more.
He rose to his full height, one hand on the small of your back pressing your body close to him and the other cupping your face to pull you into a deep kiss. You frantically started tearing at the remainder of his clothes, pushing his shirt off his broad shoulders and lowering the zipper on his pants. With one tug on the waistband of his boxers, you were finally treated to the sight of a completely naked Stephen Strange. You had broken the kiss to take a step back and admire his form, your eyes drinking him in. If you werenât drooling before, you definitely were now.
âEnjoying the view?â, he said, breaking you out of your trance.Â
âAbsolutely,â you replied, unashamed of having been caught ogling him.
âDitto, gorgeous.â
He pulled you back to him, lifting you up and tossing you back onto your bed. Before you knew it, he was on top of you and kissing his way down your body. The sorcerer was thorough and left filthy kisses, bite marks, and hickeys all across your neck and chest.Â
The pleasure you felt only intensified as he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, teasing the other with the rough skin of his fingertips. You cried out and clawed at his back when he bit down on your tit, soothing the skin with his tongue, before switching to the opposite nipple and giving it the same rough treatment.
âDaddy, please! Please fuck me, I canât wait any more,â you begged.
âI donât know, sweet girl. You have such a tight cunt, I doubt my big dick will even fit,â he noted in a smug tone.
Grasping at his hair, you pulled him up to your face and pleaded, âMake it fit!â
The two of you met in a brutal kiss as the head of his member brushed against your slit. You moaned at the feel of him dragging it along the length of your cunt, coating the tip in your arousal. Your back arched off the bed, pressing your chests even closer together, and you bit down on your dateâs bottom lip. Stephen dragged one hand down along the side of your body and to the back of your knee, bringing it up around his hip. You felt his warm, wet cock teasingly start to enter your cunt, forcing you to moan into the kiss.
Slowly, he pushed himself into you. He was fucking huge and the stretch was delicious. With a grunt he bottomed out inside of you, leaving you breathless and choking. Your eyes squeezed shut and you felt tears escape the corners.
âOh god, youâre splitting me in half,â you whispered. It wasnât a complaint, not even close. Just a statement of fact.
âThat shouldnât sound so good,â he rasped against your lips.
Both of you stayed like this for a few moments, savoring the feel of each other. He was throbbing inside your walls and despite how full you felt, you pussy was clenching around his cock to draw him in even deeper. Your nails were digging into his shoulders as you opened your eyes to meet his.
âFuck me, I can take it.â
Stephen responded immediately, pulling out until only the tip of him was inside before roughly thrusting into you. He hitched your leg up so now both were around his waist, your ankles locked against his back. His movements were unyielding, yet still left you moaning for more. Your cries, his grunts into the crook of your neck, and the lewd sounds of your skin hitting his were all bringing you nearer to release. His thrusts quickened, letting you know he was close too.
You felt his hand moving between your bodies and his fingers were on your clit, rubbing circles and flicking until it was all too much. One more thrust and you came apart, screaming out into the night and giving your neighbors another reason to hate you.
Stephen set a brutal pace, your limp form unable to do anything but take him into you again and again as he chased his own orgasm. His thrusts grew erratic until he came with a loud groan in your ear, his hot load shooting inside you.Â
He stayed buried in you, the weight of his body comforting as he lied on top of you. He nuzzled his nose against yours before kissing you slow and deep. He moved off of you and out of you to lie on his back, and his hands grasped your waist to drag you with him. Basking in the afterglow of your orgasms, you and Stephen cuddled with your head resting on his chest.
âFinally,â he breathed.
You huffed out a laugh with what little air was left in your body. âBeen thinking about this a lot Doctor Strange?â
He chuckled, low and deep, before gently caressing your face to make you meet his gaze.Â
âYou have been a constant in my mind since the moment we met. I have been thinking about you far too often and many times in the most inopportune situations, but I just canât help it. And, if I have not made it clear already, I want much more than just tonight.â
Your heart swelled at his words and you brought your face to his, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.
âMe too,â you replied with your forehead pressed to his.Â
The two of you stayed in this perfect, silent moment a little longer before you made a move to get up. Stephen clearly saw this as a heinous crime as he grasped your wrists and pinned you to the bed.
âI want more than just tonightâŚbut tonight is not even close to being done yet.âÂ
Stephen POV
Several hours later, Stephen found out you could cum on his cock four times. That combined with the three on his face was all you could take before you were begging him to stop. But Stephen prided himself on his persistence and thatâs how his fingers ended up where they were now: teasing your swollen clit with his fingers while your body twitched under his ministrations.
âNo, canât,â you whined at him. It was clear from the glassy look in your eyes that you were too far gone for more coherent sentences.Â
âBut sweetness, you look so pretty when you cum. I just want to see it one more time. One more for Daddy,â he whispered into your ear, followed by his fingers entering you. Choked moans left your lips as he plunged his digits in and out of you, a task made easy by your previous releases and several loads of cum he left in you. It wasnât long before he felt the tightening of your walls. Another push against that sweet spot inside you and he saw you fall off the edge, crying out into the night as your whole body shook from pleasure.
Finally satisfied, Stephen smirked at the sight of you: splayed out on the ruined sheets, cunt overflowing with his cum, trying to catch your breath. He pulled his fingers from your core to bring up to your lips. You opened your mouth and sucked without being told to.
âGood girl,â Stephen cooed, âSee? I told you Iâd share my dessert.â
You moaned around his fingers and sucked greedily at the fluids he provided. Stephen removed them and placed a gentle kiss on your lips, followed by even softer ones to your cheeks, forehead, and eyelids. You smiled dreamily underneath him. He used magic to freshen up your sheets and summon a towel from the bathroom. He wiped the now overstimulated bits between your legs and smiled when you murmured your thanks, exhaustion overtaking you.Â
Stephen gathered your spent body in his arms, spooning you from behind. You sighed happily as his strong arms encircled you and he placed a kiss to the top of your head.Â
âSoâŚdo I get a second date, sweetness?â
A/N: Thank you everyone for reading! This is technically the end of the series, but I have ideas for one shots about these two in a relationship so maybe look out for those
Taglist: @strangesweetheart @kentucky-criedfricken @kimxlysm @sherlocksgirl91 @ohchoices @thegardenerofedenn @ironstrange1991 @hunterofshadows04 @newavenger @marvelayya
#stephen strange x you#stephen strange x reader#doctor strange x reader#doctor strange#stephen strange#dr stephen strange#doctor strange x you#stephen strange smut#doctor strange smut#dr strange#doctor strange fanfiction
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detention, retention, and draco malfoy being a little shit
masterlist request guidelines
pairing: draco x reader
request: no not really
summary: golden trio friend y/n y/l/n tries to extract information out of draco malfoy after being placed in detention together.
warnings: swearing, panic attack kinda stuff, just the dark war things that would come w having the task that draco does
a/n: ayo so i started this as a fic i was originally planning on writing in a week. i discontinued it bc i didnât think anyone was that interested, but iâve written for it on and off. itâs about 16k words right now standing, but iâm reposting this as a 2 part series. here are the first ~12k words....enjoy :) IMPORTANT: if youâre like âhey i started reading this in october why tf are you reposting the first two partsâ just keep reading ok lmao i promise thereâs more thereâs about through part 6 in here hehe. i just wanted new readers to be able to pick up on it without being turned off by the fact that it was part 3. this will b e 2 parts and at least 20k words
word count: 11.6k
taglist:Â @gruffle1 @missmultifandommess @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell
happy reading yâall
For legal purposes, the york pudding she lobbed at Pansy Parkinsonâs head on Monday evening was simply meant to be a joke. She didnât know that her aim was bad enough that it was going to get in Snapeâs hair instead--honestly, it wasnât even supposed to get past the Ravenclaw table, much less veer to the left to make a beeline for the professors--but no matter how much she tried to explain this to McGonagall, her sentence remained the same: detention every Friday. For two months.
Her life was ending for sure.
âI honestly donât know what you were expecting,â Hermione told her as she gently wiped off the nib of her quill later that night in the common room. âEven if you had hit your mark, thatâs still technically assault.â
âDid you even hear what she said to me? She told me that I looked like the type of kid that bit people in primary school,â complained Y/N. âI didnât even think she knew what primary school was!â
Hermione snorted. âHow long ago?â
âTwo days. Iâve been waiting until there was something throwable on the dinner table.â
âHow very analytic of you.â
âIâm going to hit you.â
âAnd you wonder why youâve got detention.â Hermione tsk-ed at her, her face stone serious but her tone light hearted. âMaybe take this as an opportunity to, I donât know, do your homework for once? So you wonât have to have a breakdown over the next Potionâs essay and beg me to write it for you?â
âIâm going to go to sleep and think terribly mean thoughts about you.â
âHave fun.â
~Â
Detention.
Something that Y/N wasnât completely unfamiliar with--sheâd done her time organizing Snapeâs cabinets, just like every other Gryffindor--but it was different when it came to McGonagall. An impressive old lady, she thought that McGonagall saw something in her. She was always the first to chuckle at Y/Nâs jokes and hesitated to reprimand her stupid behavior. And she never gave Y/N detention.
Until now, she supposed. 6th year was changing a lot of things--even their Potions professor--so McGonagall turning a new stone shouldnât have been anything shocking.
At least, not as shocking as the first thing Y/N saw as she walked into her house headâs office.
âMalfoy?â she spat.
The platinum blonde didnât even bother to look up from his desk.
âMiss Y/L/N,â Professor McGonagall chided. âI think we would all prefer if you restrained yourself from getting into any more physical altercations with Slytherins.â
She huffed, plopping down in the chair furthest away from that foul git and reaching for her satchel.
âIâll be back in two hours,â said the elderly professor. âIf I hear anything, and I mean anything, other than the sound of studying, consider your sentence doubled.â
With a swish of her robes, McGonagall was gone, leaving her with Malfoy.Â
âSo whatâd you do to get in here, huh? Did the administration finally get a hold of that video of you licking Voldemortâs toes?â
âWhat the fuck does that mean?!â he snapped, whipping around to glare at her.
ââs just a joke,â said Y/N. âLike--how everyone says your family houses him and everything--but whatever. I can tell itâs a sore spot.â
His gaze, never withering in intensity, remained trained on her face. âYou have no idea what youâre talking about.â
âApparently so. Whatâre you here for?â
He exhaled sharply. âIf I tell you, will you shut up and let me think?â
âNo promises, but maybe.â
âLate work. I forgot to turn in the Transfiguration exam last week.â
She made a tutting sound as she lazily shuffled through the crumpled parchment in her satchel. âI expected more from you. Arenât you gonna ask me how I wound up here?â
âNo. I am going to ask you to stop talking now, though.â
~
âThatâs terribly unfortunate,â Hermione said over breakfast the next morning. Ron and Harry were nervously chit chatting at the other side of the table over the Saturday Quidditch game against Hufflepuff--supposedly it was supposed to be quite a high stakes match. Not like Y/N cared much, though.
âYeah! And the worst part was that he wonât even tease anymore. Like, he just sits there all broody and woe is me. Weâre all witnessing our nationâs descent into war--heâs not special!â
âWho are you talking about?â asked Harry.
âOh, just Malfoy,â said Y/N. âWe have detention together with McGonagall. Heâs such a nasty little greaseball, donât you think? I mean, look at him right now, glowering over his cereal.â
âWait! Thatâs it!â
âWhatâs it, Harry?â Hermione asked.
âItâs genius, really,â he said. âY/N has to spend time with him alone every week, and we know that something is up with him. Malfoy is absolutely a Death Eater and has connections to You-Know-Who, but I just need to find a way to prove it.â
âI vaguely forecast where this is going, and I hate it already.â
âListen, Y/N. Itâs not for that long, and itâs for the health of the wizarding world. If you just get to know him--â
âIck!â
âIf you just get to know him, maybe get him to trust you and find out his secrets...weâd finally have enough to turn him in and throw him out of Hogwarts for good.â
âIs that really necessary, Harry?â Ginny butted in from her seat further down next to Dean. âMalfoyâs probably just exhausted like the rest of you. 6th year is difficult, and we have no solid evidence that heâs a Death Eater. Iâm sure being stuck in a room with him for 2 hours is hard enough without pretending to be nice to him.â
âBut what if Harryâs right?â said Y/N. âWhat if he is actually a Death Eater? What if heâs an active danger to the student body?â
âExactly!â The joy written across Harryâs face at the prospect of someone else finally agreeing was infectious. âSo will you?â
âErâŚâ She dragged her spoon across the top layer of her porridge. âIn theory, sure. In actuality, Iâm not sure how I could do it. Malfoy doesnât want anything to do with me, either.â
âLove potion?â offered Ron.
âI donât care how much of a prat he is, Iâm not roofying him.â
âI rarely agree with you, Y/N, but I think youâre right. If you want to do this, you need to get him to trust you for real.â
âYour back-handed compliment skills never disappoint, Hermione. Do you think you could help me out with a plan?â
A slow smile spread across the girlâs face as she nodded. âThatâs my strong suit.â
The plan they laid out over the remainder of the day was ambitious but at least do-able. Each week was split into different subtasks, the end goal being a somewhat tentative friendship between the two.Â
âIf you can flirt with him and get him to have a crush on you without scaring him off, youâd be in the best possible position,â Hermione told her as they walked back from the Quidditch pitch among the screaming Gryffindor fans. Theyâd won--yet again. âObviously I donât foresee that being likely, but if you pull it off somehow heâd probably be willing to tell you anything. The fact that youâre a pureblood is going to carry you through this whole ordeal. Heâll at least be accepting of your existence in the wizarding community.â
The bitter edge in Hermioneâs tone made Y/Nâs blood boil. There was no reason for Malfoy to be as prejudiced as he was--heâd spent his adolescence in Hermioneâs academic dust. She was obviously smarter than him.Â
âYou got it, âMione,â she said. Her voice barely carried over the cheers of her peers as they ascended the steps to the common room. âWeâll take this little ferret down. I canât wait.â
âDonât get too cocky, now.â
The Gryffindor after-party was crazy...per usual. The charmed self-filling goblets, the blasted playlist of Wizpop pumping through the air, and the buzzing energy of the room was giving Y/N a giant headache. She stood with Hermione and Harry by the edge of the crowd, watching Ron get hoisted up on the shoulders of the chasers.Â
âNo wonder the Slytherins think weâre Neanderthals,â Y/N mused. For once, Hermione didnât respond. âHermione? Is everything okay?â
The second she turned away to look at her best friend, gasps and whistles filled the room. She whipped back just in time to see Lavender Brown, a sweet but slightly ditzy girl in their year, pull away from a kiss with Ron.
âOh shi--Hermione!â
Harry and Y/N shared a glance before darting after the witch--who had impressively already made it to the door.Â
âHermione, wait!â Y/N called as they jogged after her, throwing open the common room entrance and finding her sat by the tapestry on the other side of the hall, knees to her chest.
ââMione, whatâs wrong?â asked Harry.
âDonât be daft, Harry,â said Y/N. âYou saw exactly what the rest of us did.â
âI donât understa--â
âHarry.â Her voice was taut. âI know youâre just trying to help, but I think that it might be best if you let us be. Go back and enjoy the party.â
He gave her a tight, grateful smile before darting back through the door. Y/N wasted no more time in walking over to Hermione and throwing her arms around her shoulders.
âIâm so sorry,â she whispered, hugging her tight. Hermione made no move to detach them, so she continued. âRon is an idiot. You deserve so much better--your first kiss was Viktor fucking Krum, after all. Youâre hot stuff and this place is just unfortunately running dry of men who are impressive enough for you. Once youâre out of here and working in the Ministry, youâre gonna have the time of your life with men actually in your league.â
Hermione managed a sniffly laugh as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. âItâs just so fucking embarrassing, you know. Like, I have a crush on him because I think he understands me and I smelled him in my Amortentia and I thought heâd like me back, butâŚâ She hiccuped. âThen he goes off and kisses Lavender Brown, of all people. Thereâs nothing particularly wrong with her or anything, but sheâs so different...Iâm so bookish, and sheâs so girly and everything Iâm notâŚâ
Y/N took the opportunity to tuck a lock of Hermioneâs hair behind her ear as she listened.
âAnd it canât help but make me think--was I ever anything to him but a friend? If the girl he ends up choosing is the opposite of me?â
âGirly, donât think like that,â murmured Y/N. âHeâs a teenage boy. They donât think of love the way that we do--to them itâs a game of availability, not of choice. At least for Ronald. You intimidate him, and by extension, youâre not available.â
âThat shouldnât matter!â
âYouâre right. It shouldnât.â Y/N drew a long breath. âSo you should find someone who always has you as their first choice--someone who isnât intimidated by your intellect. Theyâre out there. I promise.â
Hermione managed a shaky smile. âThanks, Y/N. I mean it. Do you mind if I have some alone time? I donât think Iâm ready to go back to the party but I just want some quiet.â
âOf course. Let me know if you need me,â she said, brushing herself off and making to walk down the hall.
âYouâre not going back to the party?â
âNah. It hurts my head and I want fresh air. If Iâm not back here in a half hour, assume that Iâve been kidnapped.â
With that, she started her walk. She wasnât planning on going on a long stroll--there was a small balcony that she often went to when she needed to clear her head. It was beautiful, especially on a snowy night like this.
But the walk was creepy.
There was only one way in and out--a narrow, damp hallway that had absolutely no light fixtures. If Y/N really wanted to, she could cast a quick lumos, but she wasnât sure if she wanted to see what lived on the walls. The stairs were steep, too, but she managed to bound up all 40 of them in record time.Â
âWhoâs there?â
The sudden voice ripped a scream out of Y/Nâs throat as she reached the top, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure at the edge of the balcony that spoke. She clasped her hand over her mouth and she crept forward to the opening, getting a better look at the person that was in her secret spot.
The clouds shifted in the sky to allow more moonlight to cast a soft glow on Malfoyâs face, hardened with irritation.
âMalfoy?â Y/N asked, rather dumbly.
âWhat stellar observational skills,â he drawled.Â
She felt her cheeks grow hot. âWhat are you doing here? This is part of the Gryffindor tower. Shouldnât you be...I donât know...playing hide and seek with the sewer rats in the dungeons?â
âVery funny.â His flat tone exposed the fact that he did not, in fact, find it very funny. âThereâs no rule barring me from coming up here.â
âBut why? This is my spot!â
âBecause I wanted to get out. Now, I was here first, so unless you want your detention extended, I suggest you leave.â
Y/N bit the fiery comebacks on the tip of her tongue as the memories of her plan with Hermione began floating back to her.Â
Week 1 -- Hold one neutral, civil conversation with Malfoy.
âIâll be quiet. You wonât even know Iâm here,â Y/N decided upon. leaning up against the balcony. The rogue snowflakes that made it past the overhanging roof melted on her cheeks.Â
âThat isnât a suggestion,â said Malfoy. âIâm demanding you leave.â
âBeautiful night, isnât it?â Y/N asked, pointedly ignoring his words. âIâve always loved the snow. Itâs so quiet.â
âAnd it would be even quieter if you left.â
âArenât you the conversationalist?â said Y/N.
âIf you donât leave, I will hex you,â Malfoy told her through gritted teeth.Â
âI just love how the moonlight reflects off of the snow,â continued Y/N. âItâs so...pure.â
âPlease leave.â
On her walk back down the dank stairwell, she allowed herself a little smile.Â
Task 1? Technically done.
~Â
The first week went largely as planned. Malfoy was cold and certainly suspicious of her, but he wasnât completely venomous when Y/N asked where he got his quill from in Potions. It was silver, charmed to shimmer with flecks of forest green. He told her Barnabyâs in France, and that was that. She walked away from his table with all of her limbs attached. Perhaps that was all the progress she was going to make in the next few weeks, but the task at hand certainly made the prospect of her lost Friday afternoons more bearable.Â
Harry was going completely batty, rambling on about how Malfoy was behind the mysterious cursed objects that had been floating about the castle without explanation.Â
âAnd why would Malfoy bring cursed objects to Hogwarts if he has aspirations other than being expelled?â Hermione would ask over their books.
âYou donât understand, Hermione! You girls need to be careful walking around at night--especially you, Y/N. I donât want you going missing after detention because of that slimeball.â
Y/N always gave him a laugh, berating him for his slight misogynistic commentary and turning back to whatever her task was, but the truth was that she was worried for him. The mental weight of the impending war and the fact that he couldnât do anything about it was certainly getting too difficult for him to bear. It was heartbreaking to see the vivacious boy sheâd grown up with crumble under the responsibilities of something he should never have to worry about in the first place.
Friday came much sooner than expected, and Y/N reluctantly left her friends in the common room to trek to McGonagallâs office. The walk was frigid and the wind bit at her cheeks as she rounded the last outdoor hall.
Why was this castle so dark?
A thump behind her made her jump, and Harryâs words came floating back to her.Â
Remember all those cursed objects? What if thereâs someone just...stalking the school grounds, waiting for someone like me to snatch?
She shivered, throwing herself at the office door and slamming it behind her.
âMiss Y/L/N,â Professor McGonagall greeted, her eyebrows raised in amusement. âSomething giving you trouble?â
âNo, Professor,â she answered, setting her bag down on the desk next to Malfoy. He sent her a curious look as well. âItâs just cold outside.â
She chuckled. âI need to go speak to Headmaster Dumbledore. I expect that, upon my return, you both are in one piece and alive.â
âIâm not sure if Iâm the one who needs to be given that speech,â said Y/N, bored and testing the waters.
âSheâs right, Professor,â added Malfoy. âThereâs no projectiles here.â
McGonagall exhaled a long, shaky breath before brushing herself off. âPlease. Behave yourselves.â
âYou got it, boss,â she said as she watched her Professor walk out the door. âSo, Malfoy. How was your week?â
âI donât know what youâre up to, but Iâd way prefer if you didnât speak to me,â he said, refusing to make eye contact.
âIâm not up to anything! Weâre in detention together and, I dunno, since I see you sometimes at balls, I thought itâd be nice to be on good terms.â
âGood terms?â He scoffed. âYouâre a Gryffindor. Iâd rather you be a bloody Hufflepuff.â
âHow about neutral terms?â
Even though he wasnât looking at her, she could catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes. âIf neutral terms mean you being quiet, then, yes. Please.â
âIâll be plenty quiet. After I hear about your opinion on what happened in Potions today with Brown and Weasley. When Snape yelled at them for holding hands.â
He let out a sharp sigh. âBelieve it or not, I actually have better things to do than keep up with whatever stuff your house does.â
âButâŚ?â Y/N pressed. She may notâve spent her time at Hogwarts as Malfoyâs best friend, but she had grown up with the boy, and she could tell when he was holding back.
He stared blankly at her.
âCome on. Iâm literally the only person in my house whoâll openly admit that theyâre disgusted by that dynamic. Iâm begging you.â
She wasnât sure if she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement dance across his face for a moment. âYour house sounds more like a cult than a student group.â
âOh, says the one from Slytherin,â said Y/N.Â
âWe only act like that because our families are close. Whatâs your excuse? Hormones and Quidditch culture?â
âTouchĂŠ.â As much as she wanted to fight back, she bit her tongue. Whatever she was doing was making progress, and quicker progress than she was expecting. Her next task was to make him laugh, and she was emboldened by the fact that she could potentially be able to kill two birds with one stone.Â
They sat in silence for a little bit, but this time, it was a comfortable silence. Malfoy wasnât staring at the clock on the wall or rolling his eyes at her every move, so she had time to plot.
On one hand, she could make a fool of herself--drop her inkwell, say something stupid in class, fall down the stairs--but she had a sneaking suspicion that her sorry attempts at slapstick humor wouldnât land well with Draco anymore. Heâd become so serious lately, so solemn. This was the most light hearted sheâd seen him, even compared with how he acted with the rest of his Slytherin lackeys.Â
On the other, she could try to sell out her friends. She could confide in him how âbigâ Hermioneâs teeth were (they werenât even big) or tell him that Ron smelled of eggs (true, but that was a low blow). Something told her that this would be much more successful, but she wasnât willing to turn to that so quickly--she was already a week ahead as it was.Â
âWhat is it?âÂ
Malfoyâs bored drawl cut through her flurried thoughts. Her cheeks turned pink as she blinked, noticing that sheâd been staring at him for far too long. âNothing. Sorry. I just spaced out.â
âSure,â he mumbled, giving her another suspicious look before turning back to his work. âCan you maybe space out somewhere other than my face?â
âWhereâs your vanity, Malfoy?â she pressed as she leaned back in her chair, hair swinging over the back.Â
âShut up,â he snapped. She could tell that whatever connection theyâd had in the fleeting moments beforehand was being burnt by the second, but her embarrassment and pride drove her forward.
âMerlin, whatâs got you so wound up?â she prompted, noting how deliciously unraveled he looked at this. âWhereâs my cool, collected Slytherin?â
He slammed hands on his desk at this, whipping around to glare at her. âWhatâs your angle, Y/L/N?â
âWhat?â
âWhy are you bothering me?â
âBecause I want to.â She beamed.
Malfoy ran his fingers through his hair, mussing up the usual neat manner in which it normally laid on his head. âCompelling. What do you want from me?â
âWhat do I wantâŚ?â She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes. âWhat?â
âYou never talk to me,â he explained. âObviously, I prefer it like that. I canât help but wonder why suddenly you want to be making small talk. So, what is it you want from me?â
âMalfoy,â she said. âI think youâre a spoiled prick who thinks far too highly of himself and drives me insane. But I also think that youâre funnier than what my friends give you credit for. Granted, youâve always been annoying, but I donât want anything from you. I just want to, I dunno, make these next few months less insufferable.â Somehow the lie slipped through her teeth easier than any of her previous bluffs.Â
He frowned, his mouth opening once before firmly screwing shut into a scowl. âOh.â
âNo offense, Malfoy, but what else can you offer me other than your dazzling personality?â she teased. âYou know my family. I donât need to blackmail you to pay for jewelry Iâve had my eye on or anything.â
He scoffed. âAs if Iâd say yes.â
âExactly my point. Itâd be fucking weird. Merlin, Iâm not trying to butter you up to buy out Borgin & Burkes for me. Do I give off gold-digger vibes? Is that what this is about?â
âFucking hell.â Malfoy turned to her in disbelief. âDo you ever shut up?â
âAnswer my question. Or better yet, pull out your wallet. Wait, did I say that out loud?â She mimed surprise and covered her mouth. âOh no! What will my mother say now that Iâve squandered my last chance of hitching you? Thereâs no way I can go home for Christmas break now.â
He rolled his eyes so hard she found herself worried for a moment that they were going to just permanently get stuck in the back of his head. âHate to break it to you, but you didnât really have a shot to begin with.â
Ouch.
She huffed and dramatically flopped over the back of her chair, hoping he couldnât see that sheâd flinched. âSo you donât think Iâm pretty??âÂ
âY/L/N,â he snapped, his voice a low warning. âCan I please just work? What is with you today?â
Y/N sent him a sour look before giving her Charms work another look. Malfoy was awfully quiet, and when she snuck any glances at him later on, he was angled to face away from her.Â
Why did she feel like such shit all of a sudden? She cataloged the past events, trying to pinpoint the exact moment that her stomach dropped. It all made sense when the words âYou didnât really have a shot to begin withâ echoed around her head once again. Sheâd failed Harry. Sheâd failed Hermione. There was no way that she was going to be able to get him to reveal his secrets now--itâs not like he was confiding in even his closest friends as Harry made apparent when he explained how vague his statements were to his fellow Slytherins on the train. Her only chance wouldâve been to somehow get him to fall for her, and that wasnât going...great. And it had been a pipedream to begin with.
When McGonagall swished back into the classroom to dismiss them, Y/N shot out of there without even looking at Malfoy again. It felt like something was lodged in her throat and she was not going to cry in front of him. No, no. She had to make it to Hermione to tell her what was going on.Â
âY/L/N?âÂ
Malfoyâs voice made her pause in her flee as she nearly rounded the corner in front of her, but she refused to look back. It was far enough away that it was possible she didnât hear him.
âWait!â
She was up the stairs and speed walking as fast as her legs could carry her to the Gryffindor tower before he even saw which way she went.
~
âI donât think you understand,â Y/N wailed by the fire as Hermione rubbed her shoulders and Harry sat awkwardly perched on the couch. âI canât do this. The only way this was going to work was if he had a crush on me, and I donât think he ever will. I fucked it up! The one time you guys need me, I fuck it up! I let you down!â
Hermioneâs left hand stopped its rubbing to rest firmly on her shoulder. âPlease donât be upset. You didnât let us down. Plus, youâre only, what...two weeks in? You donât need him to like you to make it work. Just getting him to trust you will be enough, and youâre good at that.â
âI donât think so,â continued Y/N. âHarry said that he wasnât even that open on the train when he overheard him talking to all of his friends. And those are purebloods that he likes! That heâs trusted and known for years and years! Iâm a friend of you guys, and he knows it. I think heâd figure it out quick.â
âWe should take every chance we can get,â said Harry from his spot a few feet away, his eyes lazy and unfocused on the fire crackling in front of them. âYou wonât let us down if you canât get anything, Y/N, you know that! But if you got anything from him, itâd be incredible. Itâs a win-win. I donât understand why youâre so upset.â
âIâm not upset,â she said, her tone becoming defensive. âI just...donât want to mess this up. I know how much itâd mean if I succeeded.â
âSo just try!â Hermione said. âThereâs nothing wrong with it. Iâm sorry he was kind of mean to you today, but I donât think that should bother you too much. He should be more afraid of what youâd say if you didnât care about being a good person.â
âFucking right on there,â she said, wiping away the frustrated tears. âIf I was honest with him, heâd leave crying. He should be grateful that Iâm taking this bet so I actually have to be nice to him.â
âThatâs the spirit.â Harry leaned over to smack her back like he did his Quidditch teammates after a winning match.Â
After theyâd parted their ways with Harry, Hermione and Y/N made their way slowly up the stairwell to the girlsâ dorms.Â
âY/N?â Hermione asked, breaking the silence.Â
âYeah?â
âDo you think, erâŚâ She paused. âDo you think you were really upset about failing us today? Or was it something else?â
âWhat do you mean?â Y/N furrowed her eyebrows. âI donât see what else it would be.â
âIâm sorry,â responded the bright witch. âForget I ever asked. It was a stupid thing to wonder about.â
âWeirdo,â she teased as she waved her a goodnight and made her way to her dorm.
The next morning, Y/N busied herself with revising her Charms essay over her breakfast--a cup of tea and a half-buttered piece of toast--while Hermione leaned over her shoulder, nodding or grimacing at the corrections she made.Â
âDid you work during detention? Like, at all?â
ââMione,â moaned Y/N. âItâs too early for this. I donât want a lecture. I just couldnât focus.â
Her warm brown eyes narrowed as they bore into Y/Nâs face. âWhy were you distracted?â
âOh, I, uhâŚâ She stumbled over her words as Hermione drew closer. âMerlin, Hermione. I told you last night. I just felt like I was letting you all down.â
âMhm,â was all she got in response before her best friend tilted her head back down to the parchment in front of her.Â
Y/N sat, completely puzzled. What was Hermione on about? Sheâd been straightforward with what was hurting her--she didnât want to mess up the only task the Golden Trio had ever given her--and, even if she hadnât been, Hermione was smart enough to deduce things for herself. So what was she thinking about?
Her eyes drifted over to the Slytherin table where the usual 6th year pureblood gang loitered about, drinking black coffee and sulking--but Malfoy was not to be seen. She jumped when her eyes met Parkinson, her dark eyes burning into her soul as a deep scowl was written across her face.
âMalfoy, what the fuck do you want?â Ronâs voice pulled her back to reality to see him glaring somewhere behind her.
âI wasnât here to talk to you,â a familiar voice drawled.Â
She turned to see Malfoy standing behind her, a sneer written all across his stupidly pretty face.
âMiss me already?â asked Y/N as she raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side.Â
âFor fuckâs sake, stop doing that,â he mumbled, reaching into his pocket and throwing a box at her. âYou forgot your quill. I took the liberty of properly storing it, because it seems like you lot like to just throw them in your bag. Makes me physically ill to watch.â
âOh.â Y/N studied the intricate box in her hands before tucking it away in her knapsack. âThanks? I guess?â
He nodded curtly, contorting his face into one last scowl to send to Ron before turning and leaving,
âSo,â Hermione began, cutting her omelet at a much brisker pace, âI think we need to have a little chat. About...all of this.âÂ
âWhy?âÂ
âNot right now,â she said, her voice low and her eyes flicking at Ron and Harry sitting across from them. âI donât think itâd benefit us for them to hear.âÂ
âOk?â She cautiously took a bite out of her toast and continued staring Hermione down. âYouâre scaring me.â
âItâs...I donât know. I thought I was crazy for thinking this, but it seems like we need to talk about it anyways. For this little mission of yours to work, we need to be totally open and honest with each other.â
âSure.â Y/N took another bite. âI honestly have no clue whatâs got you so on edge, though.â
âWhoâs on edge?â Harry asked, leaning over the table and stealing the croissant on Y/Nâs plate.Â
âHey!â she exclaimed. âDo you not see the entire plate of them over there?â
He laughed, sending her an easy grin and dunking a piece into the hot chocolate in his mug. âFinders keepers. Say, Y/N, are you busy next weekend? Ron and Lavender are going to Madame Puddingfootâs together, and I know Hermione isnât going to want to take a weekend off studying to go to Hogsmeade, so I thought that maybe we could go cause some trouble at the Cauldron.â
âIf you stop stealing my food we can talk about it,â replied Y/N, the corners of her lips tugging up into a grin.Â
âDeal.â
Hermione tugged at her arm. âI just realized I need to get something out of my room before we watch the Quidditch game. Will you come with me, Y/N?â
âSure!â said Y/N. âGee, Iâm rolling in invitations today.â
Once they exited the dining hall, though, it immediately became evident that they were not actually heading up to the dorms. Hermione dragged her into the nearest bathroom before casting a quick silencing charm.
âMyrtle! Are you in here?â Only when she was sure silence was the only response to her question, she seemed satisfied to turn to Y/N and begin talking. âWhen were you going to tell me that you have a thing for Malfoy?â
âIâm sorry, what?â Y/N felt the heat that had risen to her cheeks from the last quill-encounter re-emerge.
âYou know exactly what Iâm talking about,â said Hermione. âAre you seriously going to expect me to believe that you nearly sobbed over some random pureblood git telling you you never had a chance with him because it might slow down your progress with helping us? Actually? Iâve seen you look more ecstatic about hearing that your dear granny passed away.â
âTo be fair, she had really good life insurance,â Y/N cut in. âAnd she was an old hag. Never had a nice thing to say to me.â
âLife insurance or no life insurance...you canât seriously expect me to believe that you were just upset about not being able to help us as much. That was ridiculous. I donât buy it. And the way you blushed like crazy when he came over to talk to you--the way you try and pretend like you can flirt...please. Y/N, itâs clear as day. I know you, and I know you have a crush on him.â
âHermione!â hissed Y/N. âYou have no clue what youâre talking about!â
âYes, I think I do,â she pushed. âAnd you need to be honest with me if you want to be of any help right now.â
Her bossiness lit a fire of rage in Y/Nâs chest, but she sucked in a deep breath, shutting her eyes before releasing it. âBelieve me when I say I havenât ever acknowledged any feelings I may or may not have towards him.â
âOk.â Her face softened. âI know it might take time, but I honestly do think Iâm right. Please just...be careful. This is a really odd situation to get caught up in if you actually have feelings for the other person. Youâre trying to manipulate him, for Merlinâs sake.â
âAnd if I have these feelings for him, Iâve done a pretty damn good job of suppressing them for however long theyâve been here.âÂ
Hermione sighed. âThatâs true. Iâm just saying that spending this much time with him is probably only going to make things worse. Will you please tell me if anything changes between the two of you?â
âAnything changes?â Y/Nâs voice was dripping in disbelief. âYouâre joking. Even if I was obsessed with him I donât think thereâs ever a chance of hell in anything âchangingâ between us. He said it himself.â
âYou know what I mean, Y/N,â responded Hermione. âJust promise me, ok?â
âOk,â said Y/N. âI promise.â
That seemed to satiate Hermione as she nodded approvingly at her friend. âI think it goes without saying that Ron and Harry shouldnât hear about this.â
âThereâs nothing to hear about, but yes.â She shuffled her feet before meeting Hermioneâs eyes again. âEr, Iâm sorry for this being a weird question, but would you mind coming along with me and Harry to Hogsmeade? I donât really see him like...that...and I donât want to read into it too much and reject him if he is doing it just platonically, but just in case. Yâknow.â
âSure,â said Hermione, even though her face took on that curious expression yet again. âAnyways, you actually did forget something--youâre not wearing a single piece of Gryffindor colors for our game today. You should probably run back to your dorm before Harry and Ron notice.â
After they said their goodbyes, Y/N found herself turning over the things Hermione had said to her in her head. Did she like Malfoy? No, no fucking way. But a part of her really did think he was funny. And of course it was natural to feel rejected when anyone insinuates that theyâd never consider you as a romantic interest without jest.Â
Once sheâd made it up to her room and grabbed a few scarves, Y/N made to put her red cloak into her satchel. Her fingers ghosted over the box that Malfoy had given her and scoffed once she saw the Malfoy crest engraved into the rich wood.Â
Narcissistic snot.
Her curiosity got the better of her as she reached over to open up the elaborately decorated box. What met her was not just one quill but two--one of which was most certainly not her own.Â
She took them both out, tossing the old one in a pile with her other trusty familiar white feather quills and picked up the other one. It looked familiar--identical to the quill that sheâd complimented Malfoy on in Potions about a week ago. Butterflies began to flutter like crazy in her stomach as she turned it over in her hand, watching the gray and green glitter together and the magic sparkles cast a gentle light over her bed. She generally avoided dipping into her familyâs pockets to get school supplies any more than she had to--itâs not like it made her friends feel good about themselves when they were reminded how rich her family was--but this might be what she could consider to be an exception. She hadnât even liked his quill all that much when she first saw it in Potions--but it was one of those things that was so noticeable that it made sense to compliment him.Â
She gave it one last look before tucking it back away into the elaborately decorated box. Perhaps she had spoken too soon when sheâd told Hermione all hope was lost.Â
~Â
When Monday morning Potions class with the Slytherins rolled around, Y/N wasted no time. Malfoy was alone--even his Slytherin lackeys seemed to know not to bother him. Just what she needed.
âMalfoy,â she greeted, setting her bag down on his table and looking him dead on. He raised to meet her eyes, his eyebrow raised.
âCan I help you?â
âI just wanted you to know that I also really like your immense fortune,â she said. âAnd your manor.â
âWell, a lot of people do,â he mumbled as he looked away to dig through something in his bag. If she didnât know any better, she wouldâve thought he was blushing.
âIâm just letting you know,â she continued. âIn case you were wanting to give them away. It worked for the quill, so I thought, well, why not?â
He exhaled, a deep and annoyed sound escaping his lips as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. âI knew I shouldnât have done that.â
âYou really didnât have to.â
âI was getting sick of it,â he told her. âI never can stick with one quill for too long, and I thought itâd be a shame to toss it. I thought itâd be better to be charitable--itâs not like your family could get an appointment at Barnabyâs if they tried.â
âHey!â Y/N said indignantly. âYou donât know that!â
âIâve heard your parents try to speak French,â he said. âIf youâre anything like them, you'll be barred from ever entering the country.â
âMalfoy!âÂ
His lips turned up into a smile, a soft laugh escaping his lips. Y/N suppressed the urge to grin in return. Task 3? Done. âWhat?â
âI canât even argue with you,â she said. âItâs tragic.â
She stared at the empty stool next to him, wondering if she should just take the leap and sit with him. Malfoy seemed unbothered by her presence as he opened up his Potions book and set it next to his cauldron. âDo you want a partner?â The words left her lips before she could stop them.
He cast her a curious look before glancing at the empty stool. âIt depends. Are you going to be annoying?â
She gasped in faux-offense. âWhat makes you think I could ever be annoying?â
âOn that note, I think you better get back to Potter.â He motioned with his head towards the side of the room where most of her Gryffindor friends were chatting. Harry was staring at her, his fists clenched by his side.
Y/N smirked and sent him a wink.Â
âOn that note,â she said, careful to imitate Malfoyâs drawl and sending him a smug grin, âMaybe I better sit here.â
âHm.â He awarded her one more uninterested look before rolling up his sleeves and setting out the ingredients for the potion they were brewing--Amortentia.Â
She tried not to make it too obvious that she was staring at his left arm, but there was nothing on it like Harry had told her. It was just pure, unblemished pale skin that shimmered under the light. Before he could catch her looking, she quickly sat down and started pulling out her own things. After a short pause, she decided to take out the silver quill. Sheâd left his box back in her room--she wouldnât be caught dead with something that had the Malfoy crest on it--but sheâd wrapped it in a pouch with her own familyâs emblem on the front, shimmering in gold and red.
âWhy donât you just buy your own charmed quills?â asked Malfoy after they had chopped all of the gillweed.Â
âYou already know. Weâre an abomination to the French. We arenât allowed entry.â
âThatâs not what I mean.â His tone was meant to read as exasperated, but his words still seemed good-natured.
âI...well.â She frowned. Sheâd never confessed this to anyone, but she supposed that Malfoy wasnât going to find a way to use it against her. âI donât like to flaunt my family wealth. I think it makes people, at least in Gryffindor, like me less. I learned that pretty early on.â
He hummed something in response before sliding all the gillweed into the cauldron, turning the clear liquid into a bubbling forest green.Â
âWhy are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?â she asked.Â
He took his time finishing the note he was jotting down before he answered. âIâm not being nice. Itâs just called being civil. You said it yourself, we see each other at balls sometimes.â
âWe probably wonât anymore, though,â she mused.Â
Malfoyâs eyebrows shot up, but his voice remained low and steady. âNo. I suppose that we probably wonât. Is your family part of the Order?â
âHm. Are you a Death Eater?â she asked brazenly. He had no business asking her something like that, and he knew it. Especially not with his family connections.
âWhat do you think?â he drawled, waving his bared left arm in front of her face.
âBullshit. That doesnât mean anything after we learned Glamour spells last year.â
âGuess youâll just have to trust me, then,â he responded, focusing intently on the bubbling liquid in front of him instead of her face.Â
âI guess so,â she replied. The weight of her Glamour comment began to sink in--she was right, after all. How had she not thought of it before?Â
But he was right when he told her she just had to trust him. Could she? Y/N rested her chin in the palm of her propped hand as she watched him work. A piece of disobedient moonbeam blonde hair dangled over his forehead as he diced up the unicorn tail, his eyebrows furrowed in focus.
âIs this why you want to be my partner?â he finally asked after a few moments of silence. âSo you can just stare at me while I do all the work?â
âThereâs the vain Draco I know,â she said, grinning as she leaned over to punch his shoulder.Â
He rolled his eyes again, scooting out of arm's reach before flipping back to Amortentia in his book. âYouâre insufferable. And itâs Malfoy to you.â
âFine, fine, Malfoy,â said Y/N. âWhat do you want me to do, then?â
He shoved his cutting board towards her, the half-diced unicorn tail staring up at her. âFinish dicing this and then stir it in. 9 times clockwise. I did almost all of the work, but it should be finished after that.â
Y/N sent him another glare before doing as he said. The glittering quill kept catching her attention from the corner of her eye, and she couldnât help but notice that Malfoy was writing with just a plain white quill for the time being. HE really did just give it to me.Â
After the final ingredients were diced, she began to stir, each rotation around the cauldron turning the potion to a different color. It began as the bubbling green, then a deep sea blue, then a royal purple, a crimson blood red, a glimmering gold--before settling into a pale silver.
âWow. Itâs beautiful,â she breathed. âItâs like...liquid starlight.â
âAll thanks to me,â said Malfoy. âYou didnât even have to crush the Mandrake root.â
âYouâre such a gentleman, Malfoy.â Her voice dripped in fake sincerity. âSo, what do you smell?â
Y/N was expecting him to scowl at her and tell her that it wasnât any of her business, but he actually leaned over the cauldron and shut his eyes.Â
âIâve never been good at explaining what things smell like.âÂ
âFair.â
Once he leaned back, she took his place, shutting her eyes and breathing in a tendril of the beautiful potion. âWhoa.â
âWhatâs it for you?â
âI donât...know,â she admitted. âItâs not something I can describe note by note. It kind of reminds me of something, though.â
âSomething with Potter, I presume?â he said, casually twirling his generic white quill around his fingers.
âNo,â she answered, surprised at how honest she was being. âItâsâŚIâm trying to think. Er, itâs very lavish. It reminds me of when I was younger and my parents would drag me to galas and balls and whatnot.âÂ
He stared at her in silence.
âWhat about you? Does it remind you of anything?â
âYeah.â Malfoy reached forward to put a lid on the cauldron, effectively shutting out the steam from reaching either of them.
âOoh, have you figured it out yet?â she teased, crossing her legs and turning to face him head on. âLet me guess. Is it someone likeâŚâ
She paused, a wicked smile stretching across her face. âOh my god, is it Hermione? Or Luna? Or...help me out here!â
âNo.â His voice was sour.Â
âAh, itâs Parkinson then, isnât it? Tell her Iâm sorry for throwing food at her if you ever have the chance. Make sure to add the part where Iâm more sorry that I missed.âÂ
âY/L/N!â
âItâs okay. Iâd be a little let down, too.â
âCan you please justâŚâ He rubbed the bridge of his nose. âPlease just stop. I havenât figured it out. Okay? Happy now?â
âIâll leave you alone,â said Y/N. âUnder one condition. You give me a hint. Iâve given you everything I know! This isnât fair.â
âThis doesnât have to be fair,â he hissed.
Y/N kept the easy smile plastered on her face while she waited, her eyebrows raised in anticipation.
âYouâre not going to let up until I tell you, are you?â
âYouâd be right on that,â she said, sugary sweet.
âFine. Itâs something kind of floral.âÂ
âHow descriptive,â she snorted as she slumped back in her stool, thinking hard. Where had she smelled it before? Y/N shut her eyes, leaning her head back and trying to immerse herself into the memory that had surfaced. It smelled like grandeur, like an open ballroom full of guests wearing expensive perfumes. She could feel spinning, spinning like she was with a dance partner. Who was it? She couldnât quite remember--the last ball sheâd been to had been years ago--but after she leaned forward and smelled the Amortentia once more time, she came to a conclusion.
âI had to have danced with him at a gala before,â she announced to Malfoy, who was looking quite unimpressed. âSo I know itâs no one from Gryffindor.â
âInteresting,â was all he said before turning to his parchment and jotting something down.
Late that night, while Y/N was settling into bed, a strange idea struck her. Sure that the thought that was nagging her was completely fruitless, she had no trouble with reaching into her desk and pulling out the Malfoy box. She just had to check if she wanted to sleep well.
Here goes.
She closed her eyes, imagining the expensive scent of her Amortentia. Then she opened it, stuck her nose into the fabric, and breathed in.
Well, fuck.Â
~
The internal debate going through Y/N the next day at the breakfast table was intense. On one hand, she really, really wanted to just tell Hermione that Malfoy had been in her Amortentia and she was completely fucked, but on the otherâŚ
She glanced at the witch next to her as she methodically sliced her toast into perfect, equivalent squares before dunking them in jam. Y/N liking Malfoy was not going to fit into her toast cubes. If she said anything, she would lose her excuse to talk to her about him. And her excuse to try and get close with him.Â
Perhaps I can figure it out tomorrow.Â
When tomorrow came, she still hadnât made progress. Y/N was beginning to think that her so called ârevelationâ after they brewed Amortentia was truly just complete and utter bullshit. So what that his quill box smelled like it--all rich people kind of smelled the same at some points, and so did their houses. There was a reason why she couldnât immediately pin the scent to anything--it wasnât like she even knew what Malfoy smelled like.
But the truth remained that she was still attracted to someone who happened to be a rich Slytherin--so naturally, her mind began to wander. Thereâs no way it was Zabini--his mother owned a fragrance line, and she wouldâve instantly recognized the cologne that she knew Mrs. Zabini made him wear--and there was absolutely no way that it was Crabbe or Goyle, so the only other Slytherin it left was...Nott? But that didnât make sense either--sheâd never spoken to him before in her life, even less than Malfoy. So perhaps it would be better if she didnât think on it.
The next day of potion brewing came on a stormy Wednesday. Malfoy and Y/N worked silently together to brew a Draught of Dreamless Sleep. She was surprised to see how practiced his movements were--he didnât even have to reference the book to recite the exact measurements and directions.
âDo you have bad dreams or something?â she asked, mostly as a joke. He didnât seem to pick up on the light-heartedness and stiffened up.
âNo?â
âGee, youâre talkative today,â Y/N said, trying to ignore how her hand brushed his by accident when she added the scoop of anjelica.Â
âExcuse me for not entertaining you,â he drawled. âI wasnât expecting to have such a needy potions partner today.â
âI am not needy!â she gasped, smacking his arm. âIâve sat in silence for a full hour!â
He rolled his eyes (he was always rolling his eyes) and gave the potion one more final stir before setting the lid on the cauldron. âThink you can do that again? It needs to simmer for that long.â
âJust because youâre so sweet to me,â crooned Y/N before pulling out a heavy book from her satchel. Her Charms exam was tomorrow, and, naturally, she had decided to save all of her revising work until the night before. The textbook stared back at her as she jotted a few notes onto a previously blank sheet of parchment. The quill in her hands was light and glided across the paper like the tears of Merlin, something that she had forgotten quills could do. All of her familiar basic quills were okay, but they were prone to skidding and breaking. This nib hadnât worn down in the slightest, still at a smooth and defined peak.
Y/N couldnât believe that, out of all people, the person to give her such a thoughtful gift was Draco Malfoy. She tried to sneak a glance at him then, moving her curtain of hair away from her face. It took all she had in her to not be startled at the fact that he was already looking back, a slightly concerned expression etched into his face.
âIs something wrong?âÂ
He snapped out of it the moment the words left her lips, his face hardening. âNo.â
âForget I ever asked,â she responded, turning away from him for good and focusing on her textbook. No, there was no way he could be what she smelled in her Amortentia. She liked to think that her subconscious wasnât secretly a masochist.
~
Friday evening swung around again, much to Y/Nâs dismay. Sheâd had a talk with Hermione later on in the week, confirming that no, she did not smell Malfoy in her Amortentia, and that yes, she was still abiding by the plan that Hermione had so carefully laid out for her. It did bother her a bit that she could be lying to her on both fronts--but at the end of the day, she was going to get the answers that Harry wanted, no matter what.Â
She just had to get through the scary ass castle first. Sheâd forgotten how spooky Hogwarts was after her previous sprint to the door, and this time she was positively trembling by the time she turned another dark corner on her way to McGonagallâs office. Yet another cursed item had been found in the girlâs lavatory on the 3rd floor, right by some of the classes that she had taken earlier in the week. The fact that whoever was out there was capable of dark magic and actively wanted to hurt people terrified her, all that Gryffindor bravery be damned.Â
So when she heard footsteps suddenly right beside her, it was no wonder that she jumped feet in the air.
âFuck!â she sputtered, turning to see a very familiar blonde in Slytherin robes. He was frozen in place, curiously looking her up and down.
âAm I interrupting something?â
âMalfoy,â Y/N said, resisting the urge to melt into a puddle of relief at the sight. This wasnât right--wasnât he a suspected Death Eater? âYou scared me.â
He scoffed, digging his hands into his pockets. âYouâre supposed to be the brave ones, right?â
âHuh?â
Malfoy motioned to her Gryffindor jumper.Â
âOh.â Heat rushed to her cheeks as she realized what he meant. âI dunno. I just get jumpy around the castle at night.â
âNo shit.â Theyâd begun to walk now, side by side. Y/N couldnât remember ever walking with him before--sheâd always been late. âDo you think I forgot the way you screamed when you saw me at the tower?â
âShut up,â she grumbled, reaching over and giving him a healthy shove.Â
They walked in silence together. Malfoy moved noticeably slower than he normally did so he wouldnât leave Y/Nâs shorter legs in tow. McGonagall seemed pleasantly surprised to see Malfoy hold the door open for her.
âIâm glad to see you two getting along,â she said, giving Y/N a hesitant nod before grabbing the stack of papers on her desk. âIâll be back momentarily.â
After she exited the room with a swish of her deep maroon robes, Malfoy turned to her. âAre you scared of the dark or something?â
She turned, ready to send a biting retort his way, before she noticed how gray his pallor looked...and how big the circles under his eyes were. âYou look like shit, Malfoy. Is everything okay?â
He rolled his eyes. âDonât change the subject.â
âOh. UmâŚâ Y/N pause before deciding that the little tidbit of information she was about to reveal wasnât that important anyways. âIâm just on edge at night at Hogwarts is all. Especially with all that weird shit going on with all the cursed objects. So I kind of hate walking to and from detention.â
Malfoy let out something that sounded like a strained laugh.
âYou didnât answer my question. Is everything okay?â
âNone of your business,â he snipped. âI just had a bad night.â
âDo you have trouble sleeping?â she asked, unable to keep herself from prying.
âSomething like that.â
âHave you tried lavender?â
âIâm sorry?â He frowned.
âLavender. Like the essential oil. Itâs nothing magical,â she explained. âI just like to spray it in my bed sometimes before I sleep. Or Iâll use a few drops in a diffuser. I have trouble sleeping too, all the time, actually.â She shut her mouth before she had any chance to ramble further.
âIt sounds a bit too floral for my taste.â
âHere.â Y/N dug around in her satchel, searching for the tiny spray bottle she kept with her at all times. âBorrow this and spritz your pillow with it before you sleep, and then tell me itâs too floral. I promise it helps.â
He glared at her. She extended her hand with the white bottle that was covered in purple decor, raising her eyebrows expectantly. âI wonât tell anyone that you have it if thatâs what youâre worried about or whatever.â
âFine,â he snapped, snatching it from her hand and dragging his fingers over her palm for just a second. âDonât expect me to actually try it, though.â
âJust give it a sniff.âÂ
He huffed, but to her surprise, he actually uncapped the top and held the spray hole up to his nose, inhaling in once.
The effect was immediate. Malfoyâs face completely drained of color, becoming even grayer than heâd been when she first saw him under the light. The briefest expression of surprise fleeted over his face before he wiped it off, replacing it with something unreadable and tossing it back at her. âIâm not using this.â
âWhy not?â
âNot quite my taste,â he spat.
Y/N was shocked by the sudden outburst, watching as he continued to glower at his desk. âI donât understand. It really does help you sleep. I know it seems stupid, but I...really think you should try it. Just once, if anything.â
âWhy does it matter so much to you?â
âBecause I--â Y/N stopped herself before she let her mouth run without check. âI know what itâs like is all. I feel like shit if I donât sleep. Plus, I have to spend time with you every Friday. I imagine that youâll be slightly more tolerable if you sleep more.â
âHm.â He sent her a particularly venomous glare. âThanks for your concern. Consider me uninterested, though.â
âYou break my heart,â she teased, pulling back her hand and placing the bottle on the corner of her desk. An idea struck her.
âAnd just what are you smiling about?â Draco said. His lips were turned into a sour frown.Â
âNothing, nothing,â she responded, her voice adopting a sing-song quality. All she had to do now was wait.Â
He exhaled, a deep and exasperated sound. Then he turned back to whatever was in front of him.
McGonagall entered the room a few minutes later, nodding cordially at the comfortable silence the two students were in. What she didnât know was that Y/N was waiting, just waiting for Malfoy to dig through his satchel and stop paying attention to his quill.
She got her opportunity a few minutes later, when McGonagall called him up to look over his latest Transfiguration homework.
âMr. Malfoy, Iâm happy to see that youâre taking more initiative in getting your assignments done...I have to say that you had me a bit concernedâŚâ
While her professor kept Malfoy occupied, Y/N darted over and grabbed his quill.Â
Ha.
Malfoy frowned down at his desk when he returned, giving Y/N a suspicious look.
âWhat is it, Malfoy?â she said, hoping her voice conveyed nothing that might hint that she took something of his.
âNothing.â
âHm.â
The rest of detention passed without any more discussion. Y/N was eager to run up to her dorm and set up her plan to be carried out the next morning, but she calmed her bouncing leg and forced herself to keep a straight face when McGonagall dismissed them.
âGot somewhere to be, Y/L/N?â Malfoyâs voice called after her as she sped down the hall towards the Gryffindor tower.Â
âWhatâs it to you?â she fired back.
He didnât respond. Instead, he picked up his pace until he was walking next to her.
âArenât the Slytherin dorms the other direction?â she asked.
âI donât know. Are they?âÂ
She allowed herself to be amused by the way words flowed out of his mouth when he was slightly out of breath. âWhy are you walking with me?â
âYou said it yourself.â He kept his eyes cast on the cobblestones below them. âYou donât like walking alone at night.â
âUh...oh.â Against her will, her feet froze and she was glued to the ground. âYouâre joking, right?â
If the lighting wasnât so dim, Y/N would have good reason to believe he was blushing with how intently he was studying his fingernails. âBy all means, I can be.â
âNo! No, I didnât mean it like that,â she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth. âEr...Iâd like you to. If you want to, that is.â
He shrugged, an elfish expression spreading across his face as he took in how nervous she was. âWell, come to think of it, you didnât ask me to. I suppose I better get back to the Slytherin dorms anyways. I wouldnât want to be anywhere near the Gryffindor Tower right now.â
âWhy?â she squeaked.
âOh, you know, I donât think itâs a coincidence that most of the cursed things showed up on your side of the castle, yeah?â
She gulped.
âI gotta get going. Donât want to stand around here too long. This place gives me the creeps.â With that, he turned and began walking away.
âMalfoy?â She hated how timid her voice sounded. âConsider this me asking you to walk with me.â
He slowly faced her, a sly grin plastered all over his face. âOh? Did I hear that correctly? Do you want me to?â
âIâm only going to say this once,â she said, putting her hands on her hips and trying her best to look intimidating. âWalk with me. Please.â
âI guess Iâll take it.â Malfoy glided down the hallway to her in just a couple steps, sending her yet another smug look.
âYou made up that whole ordeal about Gryffindor Tower being targeted, didnât you?â asked Y/N as they rounded the corner to reach the staircase leading up to the common room.
âYou bought it, didnât you?âÂ
âWho says I didnât just want you to walk with me?â pushed Y/N. This was as close to flirting as it would ever get for her--but it looked like, somehow, things were falling into place. The heat in her cheeks mustâve been from the excitement of making progress.Â
Malfoyâs toe caught on the first stair and, if it werenât for Y/Nâs steady grip on his arm, wouldâve made him go sprawling across the stone steps.Â
âMerlin, Malfoy,â she said, immediately dropping her grip from his shoulder. âWhatâs gotten into you?â
He responded with an unceremonial snort and a withering glare. The rest of the walk was done in silence, and Y/N noted how careful his footwork became around the Gryffindor steps.
âThis is me,â she finally said once they reached the tapestry for the Gryffindor dorms. He seemed surprised, and only then did it strike her that heâd probably never seen the entrance himself before. âThanks for being such a gentleman.â
âI live to serve,â he drawled.
And just like that, he was gone.
~
Her plan was simple. She had located an extra monogrammed pouch in her cabinet, a rich mahogany color with her family crest in a vivid gold, and placed both his quill and the lavender bottle. She would corner him after breakfast or follow him out of the Great Hall and show him then.
However, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Malfoy was not coming to Saturday morning breakfast. Many people didnât, but Y/N had never known him to miss it. His normal spot was vacant, and it certainly wasnât a house-made decision as all of his Slytherin friends were present and accounted for. Y/N couldnât say for sure, but she could see Parkinson turning her head to the entrance every time the doors thudded open before glancing back to Malfoyâs empty seat when it turned out to be someone else.
Where was that loser?
âExcuse me,â she said to the trio as she stood up and brushed off her skirt. âI think Iâm going to go get some fresh air. I have a bitch of a headache.â
Hermione and Harry expressed their sympathies while Ron gave her a characteristic mumble through his mouthful of bread, and she was off with the pouch secured in her cloak pocket.
It was a clear November morning, clearly Mother Natureâs attempt to slowly move the world from the crisp autumn to a cold winter. The sky was clear and the sunâs rays warmed her skin at a slanted angle, casting weak shadows across the courtyard.
If I were Malfoy, where would I go to sulk?
The obvious answer was either the Slytherin common room or his own dorm, but that was without a doubt out of question for her. She wasnât even sure if she possessed the knowledge to guess which corridor the entrance was in, much less work out the password herself. Beyond that, just getting into the common room and waiting would be...She shivered. It would be a terrible idea while she was clearly wearing a cloak in Gryffindor red and gold trim.Â
As she continued her aimless wander around the castle, she heard the slightest sound from the girlâs bathroom on the second floor. It wasnât ever really in use--no one came in there to actually use the loo unless they wanted Myrtle to materialize and tell them her supernatural troubles while they were in the middle of their personal business--but it was often the source of strange happenings.Â
Like the cursed objects she thought to herself, her nails digging into her palms. But did she care about that right now? Surely cursed objects seemed somewhat...suspicious. Dark magic was difficult to hide, and to a pureblood eye that grew up around magical objects, cursed things shouldnât be impossible to spot.Â
And, plus, it was Malfoy she was looking for. None of the students had died from the curses so far, and if she was able to break through and learn something, or at the very least gain his trust, the reward to the Order would be more than worth it.
She stepped in, expecting to see an entirely empty bathroom with perhaps a ghost rattling around at the sink. Instead, a different sight awaited her.
Draco Malfoy was clutching the edge of the cracked sink basin in front of him, rocking himself back and forth and shaking. From her vantage point, she could see that he was dressed in his normal garb--a black ensemble--but his hair was unruly and messy, sticking up in the back like heâd hurriedly tugged something over his head.
A strangled gasp grounded her and halted her curious observations. Malfoy began to make these awful sobbing sounds, like he could barely manage to breathe.Â
Y/N was frozen in place as she surveyed her options. If she stayed and tried to talk to him, he might react in anger or hurt her. But if she just left him, like this, all alone...She swallowed once before stepping forward.
âMalfoy? Are you okay?â Obviously heâs not, you bint said a voice deep in her brain. She pushed it aside as he swung around, his wand raised and his eyes blazing. âWhoa! Iâm not going to...Put your wand down!â
He stared at her, his eyes wide with horror as he continued to shake, so much so that his wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. Without thinking, Y/N reached into her pocket and flung her wand away, holding her hands up.
âIâm not going to try anything. I promise.â
As she drew closer, she could see the remnants of tears on his wet cheeks and the way that his silver eyes were rimmed with a bloodshot red.Â
âYou shouldnât be here,â he hissed, his voice weak and cracking.Â
âNeither should you. This is the girlâs bathroom.â
final a/n: ok so lmk if you guys wants me to continue. i really did not edit the last half fjkdsal;f also kinda made this an au where malfoy tried to assassinate dumbledore. with more than one cursed object but dw itâll all make sense ill clear that up đ
#draco malfoy#draco x reader#draco malfoy x reader#draco imagine#draco malfoy imagine#draco x you#draco#draco malfoy x you#draco x y/n#draco malfoy x y/n#draco x oc#draco malfoy x oc
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So this is sort of similar to the people writing fanfic about the lions but can you imagine the YouTube edits? Like the videos that are just "Cap having heart eyes for Loops for 10 minutes straight" or "Loops lovingly dragging Caps name through the mud for 3 minutes" like those kinds of things and I can just imagine them doing reaction videos and it just being funny and the world just loving coops
Okay so this wasn't a specific fic request but I got carried away with imagining videos and....here you go. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Grace and Anna are mine! Bonus points to anyone who remembers the easter egg in this one!
Message From: Gracie
ANNA HOLY SHIT
Anna frowned at her phone screen, squinting to read around the spiderweb crack decorating the upper corner. She had tried to convince herself that it was cool, goth, edgy, but in the end she had to admit that it was just irritating. In a tragic turn of events, packing tape couldnât fix everything.
Message To: Gracie
Wtf did I do
Two weeks of radio silence, then unexplained accusations. Anna shook her head as the grey bubble disappeared for a third time and turned back to her computer. Grace may have been her favorite cousinâand favorite person, if she was being honestâbut very few things came between Anna and video editing. Especially editing for a Lions meme video. She had a whole 2,341 followers to attend to, after all.
Message From: Gracie
DID YOU SEE THE FUCKING INTERVIEW???
Message To: Gracie
Wow thank you so helpful
Message From: Gracie
Skip to 2:45 bestie
A link popped up just as Anna cut a segment from the sleep study video, where Loopsâ heart eyes were in full effect. It was a rare, precious find for fan editors like herself.
âCome on,â she groaned. Maybe introducing Grace to the deepest parts of her hockey obsession was a mistake. But, really, what else was she supposed to do when she learned her cousin, who didnât even live in Gryffindor, got to meet her favorite players just by chilling in a cafĂŠ? What kind of cosmic joke was that?
She narrowed her eyes at the embed of the link, then stifled a shriek. Impossible. How had she missed an upload?
As if on cue, her computer pinged with a new notification from the Lion Pride channel. âOh, fuck me,â she muttered, scrambling to save her half-done video and pressing play.
The interviewer asked basic questions, ones she had heard the answers to a million times while curating her content. It always felt funny to hear people refer to Cap as âSiriusââit was too official, too formal. She had spent countless hours on the compilations of his softer moments, and they were her most popular videos. Cap Having Heart Eyes for Loops for 10 Minutes Gay. Cap Being an Actual Puppy for Six and a Half Minutes. Everyone Wanting Cap Cuddles for Fifteen Minutes. Every Time Cap Smiles When Someone Mentions His Godson. The list was endless. She loved it.
She did a silent fist pump when she saw the interviewer had snagged both Cap and Loops; that would give her a whole new stream of workable content. If she was lucky, she could expand on her series of Loops Lovingly Roasting His Friends, partâŚfuck it, who was even counting anymore?
Anna was so caught up in her excitement that she nearly forgot about Graceâs suggestion. Iâve never skipped through a video on the first watch before, she thought hesitantly. But maybe just this onceâŚ
Her cursor hovered over the 2:45mark. She closed her eyes, and clicked it.
ââhave you been adjusting to life as a celebrity?â the interviewer asked. Anna nearly rolled her eyes when Loops laughed. That question had been used far too often to be interesting anymore.
âItâs had its ups and downs,â Loops said with a smile. âMostly, though, the fans have been incredible and just knocked my socks off with their support.â
âReally? Whatâs your favorite part of the Lions fanbase?â
He didnât miss a beat. âTheir creativity, for sure. There was a video a while back where we reacted to some of the comments people left, and this person on Twitter made an absolutely beautiful collage of photos.â
âI have it saved to my phone,â Sirius added.
One more clip for the simp video. Anna made a note on the small corner space of her European History notes. The degree can wait for ten more minutes.
âDo you have a favorite creator?â
The interviewer was clearly teasing, but Loopsâ smile was genuine. âI donât know about a favorite, but thereâs this person on YouTube who makes a shit ton of videos and theyâre hysterical. I saw one the other day aboutâgod, what was it again?â
âEvery time I smile when people mention Harry,â Sirius answered around a laugh. âCan you blame me?â
Anna didnât hear the next question. A ringing noise filled her ears as she sat, frozen, on her shitty dorm mattress and listened to her literal heroes talk about her dorky little channel. âHoly fuck,â she blurted after a moment of silence. âHoly fuck.â
ââsubscribed?â The manâs voice snapped her back to reality.
âOf course I am!â Loops said. âYou think Iâm passing up a chance to watch a compilation of my friends making stupid decisions for the entire internet to see?â
A noise that would have been a shriek if Anna had any breath left in her body escaped her lungs; she clamped a hand over her mouth and shakily exited from the video before going to her YouTube account. 800 new notifications. 700 new followers in the last quarter hour. She was pretty sure she blacked out for a second from sheer shock and joy.
Message To: Gracie
What
Message From: Gracie
Youâre famous!
Message To: Gracie
What
Message From: Gracie
I bet he knows your stuff better than he remembers me tbh
âThey know me,â she whispered, staring at her computer. The unfinished video showed a perfect frame of Loopsâ soft smile as he watched Cap get his toothbrush stuck in his pajama shirt. Somehow, the thought was both exhilarating and horrifying. What if they thought she was a creep? She wasnât, not really, just a bored college student with not enough free time for a job but too much to keep herself busy with schoolwork. Her 2,341âno, 3,052âfollowers were just other hockey nerds looking for time to kill.
And the subject of those videos was one of her subscribers.
Anna slipped her headphones back on and began to edit like it was her last day on earth. Her fingers flew across the keyboard on muscle memory while her brain fizzed. Perfect, she thought. It has to be perfect.
In four hours, it was done. She sat back, panting, then hunched over again and began tapping out a title card.
Hello. Idk if anyone saw the new Lion Pride video today (linked below if anyone wants to see why Iâm dying right now) but apparently Remus Lupin is subscribed to this channel and has been for a while.
Hi Loops. Iâm Anna. You met my cousin once and she said she liked your sweater.
Now that thatâs out of the way, please enjoy the next five minutes of our new rookie being the sappiest mf in existence (except for his fiancĂŠ). Mr. Lupin, please tell Hattie I say hello.
She pressed upload, peeled her headphones off, and collapsed backward on her bed.
Message To: Gracie
If I die here, tell the world I did it doing what I loved
Message From: Gracie
Will do
OH FUCK YOU FOR BRINGING UP THE SWEATER I SOUND LIKE A CREEP
Anna covered her itchy eyes with her forearm and settled in for a long, long nap. Her brain still needed to repair a few circuits.
#remus lupin#sirius black#coops#anna#grace#sweater weather#lumosinlove#my fic#fanfic#ocs#hattie#lion pride
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I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader
wc: 2.3k
genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff
pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo
reader: gender neutral, they/them
requested: hell yeah
warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry
summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.
a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits
also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????
Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together
This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldnât decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to âcompletely shake up her lookâ as she put it.
Between the constant presence of someone youâd barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rushâs self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, itâs been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase âIâm going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summersâ before you lose your fucking mind.
Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. Thereâs some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isnât cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.
This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.
âI feel like Iâm forgetting something,â you muse, knowing itâs untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You canât put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. Youâd be lying if you said you werenât avoiding Isabella just a little.
You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Reganâs help, but you just donât have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.
You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, youâre suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.
âHey girlie,â she says, elongating the hey.
âHey,â you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like sheâs just noticing it.
âSorry, I canât help it, Iâm italian.â She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommateâs food, but this really isnât out of character for her. She brings up the fact that sheâs half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.
Sheâs wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says âitâs okay to love them bothâ with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.
It reads as follows:
Drowning in my mind
No one hears me cry
Who was I before society
Before society put me in a pink dress
And handed me blonde hair dye
And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?
The happiest people cry the most
Let the lyrics be your story
But Iâm not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls
Iâm
Different
-b.g. xox
You hold back a sigh.
âI think this is yours.â you say, handing it to her.
âOh, itâs just some of my poetry I left lying around, thatâs so embarrassing.â
I know, you think, you do that all the time.
âDid you read it?â She asks, hopefully.
âNope.â
âThank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really⌠deep, and personal to me.â
âUh huh. Hey, Iâm going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-â
âOh!â she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess sheâs been watching friends again - âI wanted to ask⌠is Leo coming over later?â Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.
âUh, yeah. I told you the other day weâre spending the weekend togetherâŚâ
She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.
âWhen will he be here?â
You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.
âBy 7 at the latest.â Itâs around 6:40 now.
âOh my god, I have to change,â she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.
Youâre frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. Thatâs enough of that for today. You donât care what else happens, youâre not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabellaâs room, you hear her talking to Regan.
â...Thereâs something almost⌠supernatural about him.â
You bite back a laugh.
âDo you think heâs aâŚâ Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but youâd bet almost any organ she said vampire.
So close. So, so close, and yet⌠here you are.
Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know heâs here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.
âHi, Sparky.â you murmur into his neck.
âEstrellaâŚâ he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, âI missed you so much.â He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. Youâre about to agree when you remember the good news youâve been saving to tell him in person.
âGuess what I got on sale for like, half off,â you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, âthe Assassinâs Creed bundle I showed you!â
âNo way,â he starts, and you nod.
âIâll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!â He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. Heâs not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.
As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit youâve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.
âSo I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,â you laugh.
âYeah, no shit,â he agrees, âConsider me your human buffer.â You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.
The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. Itâs already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.
âLetâs review,â Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. âWhich one?â
âThat one,â Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. âHereâs what we know; weâve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. Heâs really smart-â
âAlmost too smart,â Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.
âHeâs almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.â
âThereâs something⌠supernatural about him. Like heâs not⌠all human.â
Regan writes this down.
âPlus heâs always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? Itâs all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everythingâŚâ She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring sheâd found with her stuff when sheâd first moved, âIâm not saying itâs definite, just that⌠thereâs a chance.â
âWhat aboutâŚâ Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.
âPlease,â she scoffs, âheâs only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldnât have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really donât seem like the type someone⌠like him⌠would choose.â her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.
In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didnât infiltrate Bellaâs friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasnât read yet.
âSo, what now?â
Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.
âI tell him.â
Reganâs eyes widen.
âYouâre going to tell him you know?â
âNo⌠not yet. Itâs too soon, we donât have enough evidence. Iâm going to tell him I know heâs in love with me, then once heâs secure in our relationship... weâll see where it goes.â
She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.
âWish me luck.â
Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. Sheâs wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if sheâs going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. Sheâs still staring at him.
âUh⌠hey.â
She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.
â... Hi.â
At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, âDid you need something?â
âWhat I need,â she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, âis you.â
What the fuck?
His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.
âI know why youâre here. I know that youâre only using them to get closer to me. I know-â
âWoah-â
âThat youâre in love with me.â
Okay, double what the fuck.
She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.
âYou donât need to play so coy, I-â
This time sheâs the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that heâs not into this.
âWoah, okay, slow down. First of all, youâre 17 and Iâm turning 20 in a couple months, so thatâs a hard no. Second, I donât know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. Weâve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. Iâve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than Iâve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.â
He doesnât want to be mean, he really doesnât, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.
âSo why donât I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.â
He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.
âIsabella, I have adhd. And Iâm literally an engineering student. Why wouldnât I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?â
She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.
âAnd for the record, I do eat.â
Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.
âI got the game set up!â you say excitedly.
âNice!â
You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.
âI just had a very⌠interesting interaction with Isabella,â before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.
âWhat did she do?â you mutter from behind your hands.
He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.
âIâm not totally sure,â you laugh, âbut I think she thinks Iâm secretly in love with herâŚâ youâre both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.
âNoâŚâ you laugh, âno fucking wayâŚâ
âBelieve me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.â
âOh, I do.â
He runs his hand over your back, and youâre quiet for a moment.
âYou know,â he continues, âI think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.â
You couldnât agree more.
#leo valdez x reader#leo x reader#leo valdez#leo valdez imagine#heroes of olympus#heroes of olympus x reader
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365
pairings; eren jaeger x reader [+Â jean x reader]
notes; this was also posted on my ao3, which has the same username as this one [cvtqr]
âi never loved you y/n.âÂ
âWHAT DONâT YOU GET? I NEVER LOVED YOU SO STOP COMING HERE Y/N.âÂ
he slammed the door in your face. you didn't know why he was treating you this way. you've been with him every step of the road. there was no way he couldn't love you. you didn't want to leave. you didn't want to stop coming to see him. so you didn't stop. you weren't going to leave. you sunk down onto the concrete in front of his door.
on the other side eren was doing the same thing, just sitting against the door. he didn't want to see you. he didn't want to give into you. if he hurt you now he wouldn't hurt you in 365 days. but seeing your face was so hard. he never wanted to scream at you and slam the door in your face. right when you showed up the only thing he wanted to do was pull you into his arms. he wanted to feel your warmth. but he can't. he knew you were like a drug, he couldn't get enough. he also knew that he could never be with you again. no. not after 365 days. he could never give you a family, the life you deserved. his biggest mistake was falling in love with you. it was impossible to give you everything he wanted to. he never even knew when it happened. when you walked with him in the snow during training? when you saved him countless times? your soft, sweet smile? he needed you, but you didn't need him.
you ended up falling asleep on erenâs front porch, waking up the next morning from the bright sun shining directly onto your face. and the blonde boy standing in front of you.
âso he won't talk to you either hm? you should go, you don't deserve that y/n. he hasn't talked to anyone in days, im just leaving a bag for him to make sure he's taking care of himself and all.âÂ
you nodded and stood up, walking down the step on erenâs porch.Â
âthe captain wants to see you too. i think he wants you and jean doing field work today.â
âthanksâ you mumbled out before going to meet up with levi.Â
armin was right, you and jean were out on the field today. jean secretly cared about you and he hated seeing you like this. the bright cheerful girl, now not saying a word. you lost the glow in your eyes. as the sun set, you and jean were about done. riding your horses back to the stables, jean took a turn.
âwhere are you going.â
âcome on, y/n.â
sighing, you turned the direction of your horse, following jean. Â
he stopped over the lake, the sun setting above you two.
âi used to come here with marco all the time.â
you looked up and over at jean.
âs-sorry, lets go.â
âwait jean.- i, i miss him too.â
âdo you maybe wanna get dinner in town? we haven't ate in awhile and you seem very down today.â
âi don't know jean...â
âoh come on, my treat.â
knowing you couldn't go home and cook with eren like you used to do, you accepted his offer.Â
279 days
the time for you and jean to do field work all day came around again. after, you found yourself in town with him again. over the past 86 days you found yourself going to erenâs less and less. after hanging out with jean all day for the first time, you realized that you both had a lot in common. jean lost someone and even though eren was still here, you lost him. you now only go there about once a week with armin, just to leave a bag with a note on his doorstep. he completely ghosted everyone. he hasn't talked to anyone in almost 100 days. you were the last person he spoke to.Â
back to today, you found your smile slowly coming back. but were you over eren? no. not at all. jean just simply made you somewhat happy. out in town the both of you decided to try food from a bunch of carts. that was until you got to a small band playing music. jean pulled you close to him and started slowly swaying the both of you together. jean knew you were probably wishing he was eren, but that was ok with him. he had you in his arms.
what you didn't know, eren was sitting on a nearby bench. from a far, he was un recognizable. his hair draped over his shoulders and he hasn't shaved in months. he looked like shit. he questioned his decision of pushing everyone away. should he have spent the 365 days with you? no. no no no no no, he made the right choice. now he would just have to watch your life with jean. even though it hurt, it hurt like hell, this is what he wanted for you.
123 daysÂ
wow, its been awhile since you've seen eren. you stopped going there. you didn't feel like need. its been way over 200 days. you had jean now. you were so close, yet so far to being over eren. but you didn't want to hurt jean by going to see your ex-lover. jean didn't bring up marco, you didn't bring up eren. you haven't had as much time with jean that you had with eren, but you were slowly falling in love with him.
just the little things.
4 days
letters. eren had written a letter to each and every one of his friends, but no. he only needed you to see yours. he ripped up the rest, but put yours into a plain white envelope, leaving it on his kitchen table. he needed to think about a lot of things in the next four days.
1 dayÂ
eren took all his decorations down. all the pictures of you two that he's been looking at for the past 364 days. the only thing left was the letter, still set on his counter.
2 days afterÂ
y/n. open in five years. i understand if you want to throw this out and forget about me, but give it a chance.
that's what you read on the envelope left on erenâs counter.Â
you and close friends cleaned out erenâs house, collecting his personal belongings. Â
saying the day was gloomy is being generous. the next few years were gloomy.
1825 days after
âmarco kirstein! get back here right now or im getting your father.âÂ
you never imagined yourself chasing after a three year old toddler while your husband drank coffee on the balcony five years later.Â
1826 days later
âhave fun on your camping trip boys. connie loose my child when jean goes on that interview and ill kill you.â
âmommy stop worrying! uncle connie is a great babysitter!âÂ
6 hours later
you un crumpled the old envelope sitting in a box of belongings.Â
hey sugar! so i see you didn't forget about me. if im right you have started a family? or that's what i hope at least...
those last 365 days were painful as all hell. sorry for bringing up old memories but i just want to clear things up with you. i lied the last time i saw you. i love you. i loved you so much. that's why i needed to let go. I've been watching you and jean over the past few months. you seem happy. stay that way please. i fucking cannot stand jean but please don't let go of him. if you're reading this and you did, i hope your children get/got your genes so they don't have horse faces.Â
i don't even know why im writing this, i guess i just wanted to say i had to let go so you wouldn't get hurt once i died. i thought it would be less painful for you that way. im so sorry if i hurt you at first. so, so sorry. at least you had jean. someone, just like i wanted you too.Â
im not sure if i regret my decision. actually scrap that i shouldn't have wrote that because i don't have an eraser. i don't regret it. but i just wanted to let you know that i loved you over those last 365 days. tell the gang i said hey.
i love you, my atlantis.
-eren
#aot#attack on titan#eren jaeger#eren yaegar#eren x reader#eren angst#aot angst#attack on titan angst#eren jaeger x reader#eren yeager x reader#aot smut#attack on titan x reader#eren smut#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirschtien#marco bodt
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oikawa x reader
desc: oikawa changes some lyrics in taylor swiftâs song âlove storyâ
a/n: please keep in mind that most of this is just humorous & thereâs no serious characterization in this particular story. i laughed a lot while writing it :,,) for @cutiekawa because you gave me the idea; thank you for that! and also for @seroto-rin because this is very similar to your husbandâs lyric changing habits lol â i still laugh whenever i think about it <3 warnings: language, mentions drinking/being drunk
wc: 3k
â Itâs 2 am when you hear Oikawa pattering down the hallway and past your room. From the gentle footsteps and the occasional whisper of âshitâ when the floor creaks, it's obvious that heâs trying to stay quiet.
But his attempts are in vain because, one, youâre wide awake and, two, heâs just knocked over an empty beer can from earlier. It was probably the one heâd left on the hall table â youâd told him to throw it away but heâd refused saying that heâd âthrow it away in the morning when his arms werenât so tired.âÂ
This is just karma.
The clatter of the aluminum on wooden floors echoes throughout the dorm. A much louder, especially frustrated, âfuckâ follows right after it.
The word, though crass, sounds deceptively attractive on his tongue. But most things Oikawa-related just happen to be attractive.Â
You muffle your laughter with a blanket. Heâs probably disoriented from the alcohol â itâs only been an hour and 5 drinks each since you both called it a night. Youâd headed straight to bed but heâd fallen asleep on the couch where you left him, hair a-mess and lips parted.
But, for someone who used to stay out till daybreak on weekends, heâs spent most Fridays hanging out with you instead.
This weekend was no different.
Oikawa ordered Thai takeout, you found a mindless Netflix series to binge, both of you had a little too much to drink, laughter ensued, the doe-eyed boy found his head in your lap, andâŚ
You pull a face â one that goes unseen because of the dark, but you make it anyway.
Okay, that last part was a little different.
Heâd had his head in your lap.
His head⌠in your⌠lap.
And, if youâre not mistaken (or delirious), youâd had your hands in his hair, twirling strands and tracing circles at the base of his neck. A foggy image of him gazing up at you with softened eyes, deep chocolate in color, begins to solidify.Â
That lazy smile, a hand on your thigh, tresses tickling your skin...
You turn over in your bed, bunching up your sheets and holding them close to you like a shield of fabric â a flimsy, make-shift defense against tipsy mind-wandering. It isnât very effective.
Your brain is not wandering but racing around this hand-in-hair realization.
Like an iron rod poking at hot embers, these prodding memories make your cheeks grow hotter by the millisecond. You bury your face in your pillow, embarrassment tight in your throat.Â
Somehow youâd forgotten that heâd practically climbed into your lap. Youâre not in the clear quite yet, but your brain is functioning well enough that it wishes youâd had a little more to drink â just enough to forget about it entirely. You starfish out on your bed, arms and legs dramatically splayed across the mattress.
Do (hot, charming, charismatic, windswept) flatmates usually get this... cuddly? Is that normal?
Does Iwaizumi wrap his arms around his roomies after a long day and a few bottles? How about Mattsun? Makki�
Okay, no, none of them really seem like the type to get up close and personal with their roommates without good reason. Well, maybe Makki, but heâd do it to be a pain in the ass â not to charm the living-hell out of someone.
You try to take in a deep breath and wrap your head around what this means for you⌠but end up inhaling a feather from your pillow instead. As you hack and cough, you try to smother the noise in more cloth material â you really didnât need him coming into your room, much less leaning over your bed to check on you.
Oikawa is messing with your head.Â
If you knew any better, youâd have run away screaming the moment heâd asked you to room with him. No one that pretty and charismatic is good news. At least, not when it comes to shared housing.
But, here you are, writhing under the covers and hot like a fever all because he couldnât keep to himself. Screw him and his charming smile for putting you in this position.
He either knows youâre crushing like heâs the last man on earth or heâs blissfully unaware and way too physically affectionate for his own good.Â
You donât dare consider that he likes you back though. Only deer and Olympic athletes made leaps like that. Oikawa had too many admirers⌠an irritating amount.
The blankets scrunch even tighter between your fists, likely thanking their maker that they donât have nerve endings.
Every fiber of your being is begging to know if these feelings are reciprocated. Youâd hate to live out the rest of this semester knowing the boy down the hall may not like you back. Worse, that he finds out you think heâs hot shit and doesnât like you back â that would be unrequited love at its finest.
But, with a degree and your mental health on the line, why should you care about such minor, itty bitty, pointless details.Â
This isnât that big a deal.
And even if he did like you back? Well, Oikawa isnât someone you can simply âpin down.â He comes with a distinctive, dramatic personality and a meddling side. Not to mention, heâs already the embodiment of chaos â heâs proven this to be true over the past 4 months heâs lived with you.
Thereâs a familiar squeak of the shower faucet handle and the hiss of hot water. You jump at the sound.
Maybe heâd forgotten, but your bedroom shares a very thin wall with the bathroom. Though you recall him saying he wanted to take a shower earlier, so you guess that heâs only just remembered.
You pick up your phone, blue light casting a less-than angelic glow on your sleepy face. You pray that TikTok will have some sort of life-changing âIâm in love with my hot, crazy flatmateâ advice. Or that it will distract you from your inner turmoil. Either would be appreciated but the latter seems more likely.
Scrolling slowly, you get through about 3 videos before something else catches your attention.
Thereâs a deep reverberation buzzing through your wall. A gentle hum, much like a shower-concert lullaby.
But the noise is getting louder. And the humming? A lot more lyrical.
You shift into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your hands. With your side sunken into a pillow, you press your ear against the cool drywall. Your ears tune into the sound.
Oikawa, voice confident and free, is⌠singing.
â...But you were everything to me, I was begging you âplease donât goââŚâ
But heâs not just singing.
âAnd I saidâŚâ
Heâs belting Taylor Swift with the enthusiasm of an 11-year-old Swiftie super-fan. Like the world would end if he didnât put enough passion into this performance. Like the showerhead is his microphone and the surrounding tiles are his adoring audience.
âRomeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run...â
Most people would be pissed if their friend were singing in the shower at 2 am⌠but you canât find it in yourself to be anything but enamored.
God, you hate him for doing this right now. Hate that heâs inadvertently endearing you to him. Hate that, no matter what you do, heâs somehow always there.
Pressed up against you on the couch, meeting you for dinner at his favorite restaurant, fussing at each other over a shitty cup of coffee in your even shittier kitchen, calling you when he needs somebody to keep him company at the libraryâŚÂ
âYou'll be the prince & I'll be the princessâŚâ
And now heâs accidentally serenading you with Taylorâs âFearlessâ album. In the shower.
You facepalm, sinking into your hands, exasperated and just so⌠done.
You sink back down into the bedsheets, wishing your earbuds were nearby to drown out the regrettably adorable performance.Â
âIt's a love story y/n, just say âYes.ââ
And your heart drops, panic setting in like the touch down of a whirling tornado. A fire tornado. A fire tornado with frogs and lizards and sharp objects spinning around inside of it.
What⌠did he just say?
The lyrics⌠they were muffled. You definitely heard them incorrectly. You⌠you just need to get your ears checked. Yes, thatâs it. Thatâs all there is to it. Youâll schedule an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.
Because who the fuck sings like that at 2 am in a shared dorm? And who the fuck puts someone elseâs name into a song like that? No one? Yes, no one.
Especially not the Oikawa Tooru.
And especially not with your name.
Because thatâs just... weird.
The grip on your phone is mighty â thank God for durable glass because any other material wouldâve splintered or shattered in your hold.Â
But what the hell.
âY/n, save me, I've been feeling so alone,â he sings as though he were BeyoncĂŠâs son.
This time itâs clear as day. Oikawa is definitely still out of it and heâs undoubtedly singing your name.
No, no, no.
âI keep waiting for you but you never comeâŚâ
You bolt out of bed, feet hitting the floor at lightning-strike speed.
âIs this in my head? I don't know what to think,â
In one swift movement, you fling the bedroom door open and rush down the hall. You shouldnât be listening to this.Â
âHe knelt to the ground & pulled out a ring, and said...â
And before you can stop your hand, itâs knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.
Thereâs a gasp, what you assume to a bar of soap hitting the shower floor, and an abrupt silence that follows.
Youâd only wanted to stop him from singing.
However, you hadnât thought through what you were going to say to him about this whole... lyrical mess. Your face feels like the surface of the sun, burning and flaring and flushing. What are you supposed to do now?
Oikawa speaks up, voice quiet, âHello?â
Shit.
Maybe if youâre careful you can get yourself out of this. Just act like you didnât hear anything and bring it up tomorrow when youâre both thinking straight. A thorough and sober discussion would be needed.
You had questions. Questions that needed answers.
Why did he have his head in your lap? Had you said anything to him that youâd regret later? Does he like you? Where should you two place your boundaries if he doesnât like you back? And why Taylor Swift?
âY/n, is that you?â He asks, nonchalantly.
Who else would it be?
The handle squeaks and, with that, the water stops. Only the gentle swirl of the drain and the occasional drips and drops from the showerhead are audible.
Itâs too late. Youâre already there. Youâve knocked and, in doing so, youâve sealed your fate.
â...Yes,â is your whisper of a reply.
âWhatâs up? Was I too loud for you?â
Youâve got the entire building on high-alert singing that loudly.
...is what you would say if you werenât currently imploding. This is like nothing youâve ever experienced before. And nothing you ever want to experience again.
âUm, yeah, sorry.â You look down at your shuffling feet.
The hallway is pitch black, hardly allowing for even a mere shadow. Rushing out of your room, youâd forgotten to turn on even a single light.
You hear him step onto the tile floor and the rustle of a tower from the bathroom closet.
âWait, can we talk?â He asks as though it werenât the question of the fucking year. âI mean, preferably after I get out of the bathroom.â Thereâs a lack of tact to his words.
This isnât the charming Oikawa youâre used to. This is a blunt⌠confusingly straightforward Oikawa.
His tone wavers like maybe heâd had a little more to drink than youâd last remembered. Your memory was proving to be disappointingly unreliable tonight.
You swallow thickly, âSure.â
Because what else can you say?
âCan I stop by your room in a minute?â
You take a deep breath, âYeah.â
And you patter back to your no-longer very safe haven. Oikawa is about to infiltrate your space⌠with your permission. And the weapons heâll bring will either harpoon you or leave you emotionally paralyzed â whether that emotional paralysis is a good or bad thing will be decided in the near future.
Your bed, though soft and blanket-covered, looks far less appealing now. It may as well be a bed of nails because you would rather hide beneath it than sit atop it.
But you sit anyway, letting the mattress dip and the springs twang.
The bathroom door cries as it opens, putting you on edge. Your heart is pounding like a drum at a summer festival â hotter and louder with every beat.
The trod of footsteps tells you heâs approaching and, sure enough, the open door reveals Oikawa.
With only a lamp to brighten the space, heâs more contoured than usual. His hair is wet and heavy against his head, taking on an even darker brown than before. Youâve seen him fresh out of the shower before, but this⌠is different. Oikawaâs shirt sticks to his chest slightly â he mustâve thrown it on without drying off fully to get to you faster.
He takes a few steps into your room, choosing to lean his back against a wall next to your work desk. Oikawa brings his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them. Brown eyes flicker from you to the wall behind you and back again.
Naturally, tension lays thick as a fog in the air space.Â
âHey, IâmâŚâ
You cut him off, âYou donât have to say sorry! Itâs⌠itâs okay.âÂ
Oops, youâd said that a little too loud. Not that it mattered much after Oikawaâs passionate performance.
An eyebrow raises and confusion sparks across his face. Your body freezes.
He brings a hand behind his neck. âOh, I was just gonna say that Iâm still kinda drunk.â
You knew that much. Though you really thought heâd say something other than that. Preferably something about the, uh, devoted love-song?
Why is he acting so casual right now? Is this even Tooru? Had he read too many alien conspiracies and been abducted for learning too much about extraterrestrials?Â
Maybe he doesnât realize youâd even heard him say your name in the shower.
âOh... right.â You say slowly, lips staying parted at the end of your sentence.
âWhich⌠probably isnât good for either of us,â Different words drawl out and thereâs a soft slur to some syllables, but at least heâs easy to understand, âme drinking too much, I mean.â
âYeah,â you mutter.
âI think we should both just go to bed then.â
Your chest tightens. Of course, you want answers.
Theyâre likely embarrassing, face-reddening, Taylor Swift-centric answers. But you want them, nonetheless.
Although, itâs probably for the best that you donât bring this up tonight. It was all probably a joke or a harmless accident â and, anyway, he admitted to being drunk.
âRight.â
âBut I think you should know that I like you. A lot.â
âYeah,â you respond again, automatically.
Thereâs another heavy silence. The pretty boy just stares at you, cherry colors tinting his cheeks but showing no expression of fear or embarrassment. You stare back, processing his words at turtle-like speeds.
The words tumble out, âWait, say that again?â You double back, your own face reheating to its earlier temperature.
âIâm gonna be mad at myself in the morning if I donât leave right now. And I really need to stop listening to that stupid song,â Oikawa says to himself.Â
âBut I wanted to see how you would respond if I changed the lyrics,â the words are pointed back at you again.
He stands up, feet moving slowly toward the doorway. Did he just⌠completely ignore your question?
Your jaw drops, âDidâŚâ you can hardly speak.
Clearing your throat, you try again, focusing intently on your words, â...did you mean for me to hear you?â
â...Maybe.â He draws out the âe,â looking back at you.
Thatâs it. Heâs lost his fucking mind. Youâre going to strangle him.Â
No TikTok advice could have prepared you for the monstrosity that is Oikawa Tooru. How Iwaizumi put up with that... that child for all these years, you have no idea.
You have to make a note of sending him a âget wellâ card, because nobody could be mentally okay after dealing with him for that long.
âB- but⌠why? What?â You stammer out, back stiff as a board.
âYou like me donât you?â He tilts his head, hair flopping cutely with it.
You gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing.
And itâs not that you donât want to respond.
Itâs that you canât. You have no words. You vocal chords are on a panic-induced lockdown.
Because he knew.
He knew this entire time. Which you thought he might, but that doesnât make the situation any less infuriating.
âAnd I like you back.â
Youâre dumbfounded. You canât think. This is ridiculous.
You open your mouth once more but he has no intention of continuing this conversation.
âSleep well!â Without further comment, Oikawa flashes you a sleepy smile and begins scampering back to his room after having wreaked havoc on your poor heart.
Your voice comes back just in time for you to wake up the entire building once more,
âNo, you get your ass back here and explain yourself!â
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#oikawa tooru#oikawa#oikawa x reader#oikawa scenarios#oikawa imagines#seijoh#what did i just write#this is gonna go under: 'things i gave up my sleep for'#ughsjdljlds'ldsdjd#also#i dont like the term crack fic anymore? so i think just calling it humorous is... a good way to go#goodnight yall#queued up!
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shut in [2]
Summary:Â When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, youâre forced to hide in a safehouse with a man youâve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, youâre forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before itâs too late. (Sam Wilson x Gender Neutral Reader, Hitman AU)
Warnings:Â cursing, implied violence, drama kings, and stupid tv show references
Word count: 3.4k
A/N: ayeeee, weâre back for part two. i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, itâs mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.
hereâs my ko-fi if youâd like to support my writing <333
Previous Part ||Â Shut In Masterlist
Hours were spent on the road in thick silence.Â
The both of you had been driving around for a while now. You were a considerable distance away from the mansion and Pierce, but you didnât dare to stop.
Initially you had only put the pedal to the metal without solid plan. Get the fuck away from there was the only objective you cared about.Â
Hours later a signboard registered in your frantic thoughts. Familiarity struck a chord, and all of a sudden you had a vague idea of where you could go. You were unsure if it still existed, but it was a risk you were willing to take.
Darkness still coloured the sky, but the roads were deserted. No cameras along the highway was a welcomed feature. You eased your foot off the accelerator, carefully assessing the path you were taking for your exit.Â
You saw a small clearing near the highway, taking a deep breath before pulling the car into a sharp turn off the road and into the woods.
âWhere are you going?â your companion jolted up when the car swerved abruptly.Â
You didnât answer; just kept your eyes peeled for the structure. You didnât have a backup plan if this didnât go right.
It took much longer than you anticipated before you found it, pulling the car to a stop. You were deeper into the woods than you would have liked.Â
You stuck your head out of the window to confirm you were at the right place. It looked like you were.
âWhere the hell are we?â
âMy summer vacation house,â you murmured, unbuckling your seatbelt. You stepped out of the car to assess the damage. .
Another door opening and closing told you that he had gotten out of the car as well. However, he trudged ahead, leaving you behind.Â
The car was pretty beaten up. The metal gates hadnât done it any favours.The question was whether it would still work if you needed it to.
Probably would, but not for too long.
You looked to the side to see where he went. He was standing in front of the house, arms crossed over his chest as he ran his eyes all over the building.
You trekked past him, walking up the two steps to the door. Pulling at what looked like a doorbell in any other scenario, you tugged off the outer shell to reveal a small scanner underneath.
You pressed your thumb to it, tapping your foot impatiently as it gave a beep of approval. The door gave a soft click. You let out a breath you didnât realise you were holding, twisting the handle to let yourself in.Â
âYouâre kidding right?â he asked incredulously from a distance behind you.
âHey, man, stay outside if you want. Suit yourself.â You were sure he could fashion a bed out of leaves and twigs if he was that desperate.
Fumbling for the light switch, you sigh in relief when the room is illuminated.
âWhose safehouse is this?â
âRansoneâs.â You shrugged nonchalantly, moving ahead to inspect the place.
âI have every single one of his safehouses committed to memory.â His voice was becoming fainter as he planted his feet firmly at the doorway, refusing to move. âThis ainât one of them.â
âHeâs sneaky. Once watched the next episode of Desperate Housewives without telling me.â The house wasnât as dusty as you thought it would be, clearly being maintained once in a while although not regularly. âBroke my whole heart, he did.â
âWhose house is this?â he asked once again, tone hard as steel.
âBest that you donât ask questions, buddy.â You looked at him wearily, a slo warning in itself, ending the conversation there. âOr else youâre welcome to leave.â
The entrance opened directly into what you assumed was the living room, or a sorry excuse for one. It had a couch facing an old cable television set, mounted on a small cupboard.
In the same space was the kitchen, with a microwave, a sink, and shelves lining the wall. A small mini fridge sat atop the counter. Â There was a dining table with six chairs for a family, almost like a sick joke. You found yourself letting out a short exhale at it, moving onto the next room.
It was bare except for a shelf pressed against a well. Opening it, you found yourself looking at multitudes of what looked like burner phones, microphones, cameras, some as small as a button. Regular security cameras and monitors to go with it, trackers, anything you needed was available in those four drawers.
You pocketed a burner cell to use for later, moving to the room on the opposite side of the hall.
However, unlike the rest of the rooms you had seen so far, this one was empty. Not even a shelf decorating it.
The next door you opened was a bathroom, the final being a bedroom with one bed in the centre pushed up against the wall. A wardrobe in the corner contained numerous t-shirts of black and grey of every size, tactical pants and other necessary items of clothing.
You eyed the last door at the end of the hall before finally deciding to pursue it.
It opened to the patio in the back, two steps leading down from the house into the wooded area. Pillars held up the corners of the roof. It all looked picturesque, meant to blend in as a normal house.
You stood there for a second, taking in the silence around you. Nothing could be heard for miles, so if something were to happen-
You shook your head, forcing your imagination to stop running wild. You shut the door behind you, steadily making your way back to where the guy was.
It appeared that he had caved. He had moved from the doorway, instead taking a seat on one of the dining chairs. He was observing you, eyes keen as you took a seat opposite to him.
Dropping the burner phone on the table, you looked at him expectantly. Silence ensued until it dawned on him what you were implying.Â
âIâm not calling him,â the guy said, leaning on his palm. Coward.Â
âFine.â You pulled it back, snapping it open to dial the number.
You let it ring all the way until the very last second.
âHello?â the low voice resonated from the other end.
âRansone.â You rolled your eyes at his tone, somehow letting your exhaustion tear down any kind of filter you usually had while in conversation with him.Â
âY/N?â His voice jumped two octaves higher to his usual pitch, dropping the facade immediately.Â
âDid you set us up?â You ignored the small glance you got from the guy at your name.
âWhat?â
âDid you set us up?â you repeated brazenly.
âWhat?â
âOh, cut the shit Ransone, was this a trap?â The guy next to you exploded impatiently.
âWilson?â Great. A name to the face.
âAnswer the fuckinâ question, Vincent.â The mention of Ranoneâs first name had you surprised. No one dared to call him that.
âNo, Sam,â came his response almost mockingly. âI donât know what youâre talking about.â
Sam Wilson. It sounded familiar. Youâd heard it tossed around a few times at the organisation.
âWhy were both of us on the same assignment?â
âI told you, I wasnât sure if Wilson was going to show up.â You could hear his chair faintly creak in the background. âThis was his mission first.â
âThe hell is that supposed to mean?â you interjected. Faint memories of a passing comment he made during your briefing were beginning to surface.Â
âIt means,â Ransone emphasised. âI called him first. He was being a bit⌠difficult. So I sent you as a backup.â
You looked at Sam. He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, as if to say to ignore what he was saying.
âAnd you didnât think it was important to tell me that you were sending someone else?â If Ransone had told you, he should have mentioned it to him too.
âOh, grow up.â Ransone sounded irritated, a tone that he seemed to reserve for Sam specifically. âYouâre not children anymore. You can handle a few miscommunications.â
âBullshit. You and I both know this isnât an accident,â Sam retorted, dangerously good at not giving a shit.Â
âYou better watch yourself, agent.â Ransone snarled. âI donât like being questioned.â
âLike I give a shit about what you like or not. We were outnumbered 8 to 2. You tellinâ me you had nothing to do with this? That the stars just aligned to royally fuck with us?â
âYes, I waited until Mercury was in retrograde to plan this hit,â he drawled sarcastically. âDonât you for a second forget what you owe me, Wilson. Youâd be stupid to believe Iâd let it go so easily by having you killed.â
His voice was ice by the end. Samâs eyebrow furrowed as he leaned back, crossing his arm over his chest.
âThen what about me?â
âY/N,â he sighed, instantly sounding softer. âI didnât think he would show. Thatâs it.â
âYouâve never been unsure of anything.â
âWhich is why I sent you in. Pierce had to die one way or the other. Donât care how.â It wasnât what you were talking about, but it brought up something else.Â
You looked at Sam. Should you tell him that Pierce was dead before you got there?
You decided against it, not knowing what his reaction would be and too tired to gauge it over the phone. If someone else had gotten to Pierce before you, it meant that Ransone didnât get a chance to deliver a dramatic end to his life, which would tick him off endlessly.Â
âHow do I know youâre telling the truth?â Sam broke the momentary pause.
âYou donât.â He paused. âDistrusting me is the wisest thing you could do.â
You scoffed at his stupid Game of Thrones quote. How he was this obnoxious at a time like this was beyond comprehension.Â
âGive me your location.â He couldnât sound less interested, like a parent forced to pick up their child. âIâll send someone to come pick you up.â
Samâs finger tapped at the table, drawing your attention to him.
He slowly shook his head, mentioning to his ear then drawing his finger in a circle indicating his surroundings.
Disclosing confidential information over the phone wasnât the wisest idea. You had no idea if anyone was tapping into Ransoneâs calls, listening for sensitive information. For all you knew thatâs how they got to the mansion before you.Â
âForget it. Weâll figure it out,â you told Ransone, eyes still locked on Sam.
âAll right, stay low for a while. Keep me updated.â
You cut the call without another word, removing the battery and tossing the phone onto the table.
âWhat now?â
Neither of you said anything for a while. The silence rested uncomfortably between you as you stewed over what to bring up.Â
âDid you kill Pierce?â
âChrist, we still on this?â he scoffed.
âItâs a yes or no question.âÂ
âNo,â he stared at you. âI didnât.â
âDid Ransone send you to spy on me?â It wouldnât be the first time it had happened, although you thought he had moved past the need for that years ago.Â
âNo, I was there for a mission.â
âYou got any proof?â
He rolled his eyes. âScoutâs honour.â
He lifted his hand up in a mock-salute. A wince flashed across his face; barely, but enough for you to catch it. His arm dropped back down again.
You examined him silently, searching for any hint of a lie or bluff. You found nothing, only an adamant set of eyes staring right back at you.
Your chair creaked as you pushed yourself away from the table. You could feel his gaze following you as you walked down the hall to the bathroom. Shuffling through the shelves for something you were sure was there, you soon stepped back out.
You had no idea why you were doing this. You didnât even know the guy.
He had his sleeve pulled up to his shoulder, examining the wound from the bullet graze. Dried blood streaked his forearm, partially covering his tattoo.
You tossed the first aid kit onto the table, watching it slide across to where he was sitting. Sam glanced at the box, then up at you.
You just turned around silently, walking back down the hall and towards the bedroom, shutting the door behind you.
__________
Sleep didnât come that night, and predictably so.
Whether it was the survival instinct guarding you from the stranger in the house, the adrenaline from the mission or even the anxiety of not knowing what exactly was going on, you were sure that you didnât catch even a bit of shut eye.
Morning came around after what seemed like days rather than hours. You still stayed in bed well past the sunrise, pulling at the hem of your pillow. Your knife was still strapped to your thigh and your gun found a place on the nightstand, just in case.
When you heard the opening and shut of cabinets down the hall, you finally pulled yourself up, stretching to get rid of the weariness in your muscles. You decided against the gun but left the knife strapped to your thigh as you shifted off the bed.
You paused at the doorway, hand on the knob. Shoving aside your hesitation, you opened the door quietly. You could handle it, easily.
Walking towards the kitchen, the volume of his ruffling and filing through the kitchen only became louder. You stopped at the entrance, watching as Sam slammed a cabinet door shut.
âCâmon man,â he groaned before turning around to lean his body weight against the counter. There was a small bump under the sleeve of his arm, different from the curve of his muscle. You assumed he had bandaged the bullet graze the night before.
He was still wearing the same thing as yesterday. Dust was slightly settled on his shirt and one knee of his pants was ripped slightly.
âMorninâ.â You quickly looked back up at him, not realising when he had seen you. âGet any sleep last night?â
You wordlessly shook your head and he shrugged in understanding.Â
âDid you?â
âOh yeah. Out like a light.â He pushed himself off the counter.
âReally?â You watched as he pulled out a chair for himself, taking a place at the dining table, same place he was sitting the night before.
âSounded like the reasonable thing to do.â He had an unnatural amount of faith in the fact that you wouldnât murder him. Although you couldnât judge if he was simply putting on a show, having stayed awake just as you had.Â
âI'm stuck in a safehouse with a stranger, forgive me for being a little careful,â you muttered defensively, crossing your arms over your chest.
âHey, never said you were wrong.â He lifted his hands up. âBut just to make sure; are you going to kill me?â
Your eyebrows furrowed. âNo?â
âAnd Iâm not going to kill you. Iâd say thatâs enough reassurance to get at least a nap in.â
âGive me one good reason to believe you.â
âIf you killed me, Ransone would blow the roof of this place with you still in it. Iâm one of the best heâs got.â
âBullshit.â You scoffed, walking around the table to go see what you could find to eat. Ransone wouldnât do that for anyone, and he knew that.
He didnât bother responding but you could sense him tracking your movement.
The first cabinet you opened consisted purely of jars of peanut butter, stacked together neatly. The one beside it had jelly arranged in a similar fashion, jar to jar and taking up the entire space. Adjacent cupboard had loaves of bread, probably the most youâd seen together in a house ever.
The next cupboard was... empty.
âYou have got to be fuckinâ with me,â you cursed under your breath. âIs there nothing else here?â
Save for a few plates and cutlery, every other shelf was empty. Your frustration only grew with each drawer you opened and shut, finding nothing but the same three components over and over again.
âThereâs some soup on the top right, behind the bread.â His voice came from behind you. You checked where he mentioned, finding multiple cans of tomato soup. âI hope PB&J is your favourite, âcause thatâs really all we got. I checked twice.â
âWe wonât be here long anyway. Itâs fine.â You walked a few steps towards where the TV was, sitting atop a small cupboard. If you werenât getting gourmet meals, hopefully it would be compensated with some entertainment.
Rummaging through it didnât prove to be a major hassle since there were only three DVDs; Die Hard, Notting Hill and Megamind. Beside it sat two books, American Gods, and Pride and Prejudice. Thatâs all.Â
âReally made sure to cover all demographics with those movies. Thereâs only one local news channel, everything else is static,â Sam informed you, unmoving from his position. You sighed, tossing the DVDs back and shutting the door.
âThereâs a room over there with some basic shit. Burners, mics, cameras. Clothes are in the bedroom drawer. Should probably take a shower while youâre at it, I can smell you from a mile away and itâs giving me a migraine.â You pushed yourself off the ground, pointing towards the rooms as you walked down the hall. âBackyardâs all heavily wooded. If we try hard enough, Iâm sure there are a few trap doors or crawl spaces or whatever around here.â
You could hear him follow you as you gave him the tour of a place you were sure he already had examined thoroughly before you greeted him this morning.
Pushing open the door to the suspiciously empty room, you stepped to the side, allowing him to observe. The both of you had the same thought process as you split up, sticking close to the walls, running your fingers across the plaster to look for any major differences.
âGot it,â he called out. You spun on your heel to face where he was standing. A small chunk of the wall was missing, a small button in the centre of the cavity he had created.
Pressing it lightly, the mechanical sound of sliding doors filled the air as the entire side of the room gave way to shelves upon shelves of weapons. Guns, knives, ammunition, bulletproof vests; enough material to last you years.
The doors slid shut when you pressed the button again, not until you had a mental note of what was available in case you found yourself in a situation where you required them.
âThat about covers it. Donât think weâll be here long so just think of it as your three day long staycation.â
âIâve had a better time at funerals than Iâll ever have in this shithole.â
________
âWhat do you mean they escaped?â Their voice was booming, dripping with slow rising anger. âSomeone explain to me how the fuck thatâs possible.â
âThey took the car and left.â
âThey took the car and left,â they said mockingly in a high pitch. âI know that, you fucking imbecile. Iâm asking how they were alive long enough to do it?â
âThey teamed up. Took out nearly everyone,â the agent was monotone. His arm was in a sling and his partner stood beside him, thick bandages around his midsection.
âThey shouldnât have been there together. They shouldnât have been sent together.â
No one said a word, not even daring to breathe loudly.
âThis wasnât supposed to fucking happen. We killed Pierce. Everything was perfect,â their voice dropped as they spat out the last word. âSo then how did this fucking happen?â
âBoss, weâll-â
âI want them dead.â They interrupted, casting silence in the room. âI donât care how you fucking do it. I want you to find them and rip them to shreds. Both of them.â
âYes, boss.â
âAnd if you even fucking think of coming back without a proper update-â they brought their hand down harshly on the table. â-Iâll make you wish you were never born.â
The agents just nodded, faces pale as they shuffled out of the room silently.
âFucking idiots.â They nursed their forehead on their palm, calming the nerve that was menacingly visible on their temple. âThis wasnât supposed to happen.â
Part 3
#sam x reader#sam wilson x reader#mcu fic#sam fic#sam wilson fic#sam wilson fluff#sam wilson angst#sam wilson series#falcon#falcon x reader#the falcon x reader#hitman!sam wilson#hitman!au#shut in fic#marvel fic#marvel#mcu#sam wilson#the falcon#read my fic you cowards it's good
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Teach Me
Summary: Buckyâs worried about you overworking yourself at your teaching job.Â
Warnings: some swearing, cute couple shit
Words: 2014k
A/N: this is my first full fic! Iâve really missed writing just for fun and I have a few more fic ideas and hc ideas in the works! please please please comment and let me know what you think!Â
No matter what, you always came to bed when Bucky did. Sometimes you stayed up on your phone or reading but you always at least sat on the bed with him. He knew that you had a big week coming up, with your principal coming to observe you, midterms drawing closer, and your students struggling with the new curriculum the district was imposing.Â
You were a high school English teacher and Bucky had met you when your school had put on an assembly about the history of the Avengers. He had noticed you in the back of the auditorium, wearing a soft blue dress and encouraging your students to ask him questions about his prosthetic. He shyly asked Tony to see if he could contact the school later and get your number. He had rolled his eyes at him and had walked up to you and asked in plain English, âThe Manchurian Candidate over there wants to take you to dinner. If I set up the reservation and promise to make him show up, will you go?â Your jaw had dropped and you had numbly agreed. James Buchanan Barnes wanted to go on a date with you? Despite your doubts regarding the reality of the situation, you showed up outside the quiet Italian restaurant and the rest was history.
Bucky smiled at the memory of you dressed in a red silk jumpsuit with your hair braided back. You looked like a modern version of the girls he flirted with during the forties. Only, back then, he had been wondering how to get up their skirts but now he was more concerned with taking his time getting the jumpsuit off your gorgeous body. He felt a twitch between his legs and, smirking, shook the feeling off. He padded down to the kitchen, thinking you had gotten hungry. When that search yielded no you, he wandered through the rest of the downstairs. He noted that your car hadnât left the driveway and checked the calendar on the fridge to see if he had the opening shift at the mechanicâs tomorrow (he mercifully did not). But he took note of how small your writing was on your to-do list for Monday.Â
Feeling a pang in his chest, he remembered how he had begged you to let him have your full attention on Friday and Saturday. While youâd reveled in your domestic bliss, by noon on Sunday, you had been buried in your office with your laptop, surrounded by books, papers, and highlighters. Smiling to himself, he realized where you were. He headed up to the attic loft, converted into your office. The walls were a soft gray and the couch the two of you had bought for your tiny first apartment was squeezed against one wall.Â
Buckyâs heart tightened as he saw you sprawled on the couch, wrapped in one of his massive flannels. Your desk light was on and the desk was messier than heâd ever seen it. Your blinking phone alerted him to the fact that youâd set an alarm for midnight, but had been so tired youâd slept through it, a given considering you were working yourself to the bone and it was two a.m. Afraid to ruin your organizational system on your desk, he returned the pens and highlighters to the little decorative cups you kept them in, saved every file you had open on your laptop before closing it, and pushed the papers in imminent danger of falling onto the floor farther back on the desk.Â
Content that he had lessened the burden of cleaning youâd have to do tomorrow, he crouched next to the couch. Gently smoothing a stray hair out of your face, he whispered, âbaby...come on, get up, letâs go to bed.â You opened your eyes slowly and then jerked upright, sending your phone flying and Bucky scrambling backwards.Â
âWhat time is it!â you cried, frantic. You ran towards your desk, frantically pinging your phone from your Apple Watch. Your clock on your desk blinked back 2:05 a.m. at you. Bucky picked up your incessantly beeping phone and handed it to you as you slumped in your desk chair, head in your hands.Â
âI just wanted to get this stupid assessment plan done,â you whispered. You hugged his flannel tight around you as tears started to fall. Bucky turned your swivel chair so you were facing him as he knelt in between your legs. You dropped your upper body and rested your forehead on his shoulder as you sobbed. The weight of turning in grades, making assignments, checking in with your students to make sure they were doing okay, it was weighing on you. Bucky had noticed you sleeping less and drinking more coffee but hadnât truly realized the toll it was taking on you. Kicking himself for making you spend time with him instead of alleviating your burdens at work, he pulled you out of the chair to sit between his legs, curling you into him and rocking gently. After a few minutes, you tilted your chin up and scooched back. Sitting criss cross between his legs, you cupped your chin and closed your eyes.
âI donât know what to do, Buck,â you said sadly. You tugged on a loose button on your sleeve, looking like a lost puppy. Bucky knew how much you adored teaching and how much you loved your students. You were always baking treats for them when they did well on exams, buying bagels so that they could eat breakfast, and extending deadlines for the kids who worked. He knew that the American school system had changed since the 1940s and when you had shown him what you had to teach in a week and just how much time and energy went into lesson planning, he almost formed his own teachers union to advocate for you.Â
When he found out your dismal salary, he had to take a walk. He spent an hour with Tony railing against your pay and the administrators who punished you for the test scores of students that you had no control over. Tony sat him down after an hour of not being able to get a word in edgewise and finally pledged to harass the local school boards (and the Board of Education if they would call him back) about raising teacher salaries. Bucky had walked home to you pouring over birthday cards your sixth period juniors had given you because theyâd gotten a tip that it was your birthday. (Peter helped Bucky hack your Google Classroom). He felt a wave of pride come over him as he looked at you, his selfless girl, thrilled that she was having an impact on the kids she loved the most. You getting so down on yourself broke his heart.Â
âWhatâs wrong with your assessment plan?â he asked, intertwining your hands with his. You looked up angrily. âWhat ISNâT wrong with it is a better question!â you cried. âThe district made the test up and itâs on a fucking scantron because what fucking isnât these days and itâs not taking into account the fact that school is not the main focus for so many of these kids that have to fucking work and help support their siblings and all they are is numbers on a fucking piece of paper that tells you nothing about the effectiveness of my teaching or the districtâs ability to educate them as a whole!â Bucky blinked rapidly as you huffed. You didnât get angry very often, but when you did and you started to monologue, he understood why you received a distinction with your English degree.Â
âBaby,â he started gently, âcan I ask you something you may not like?â He knew that you were a planner and that the odds were you were beating yourself up about a task that had taken your coworkers thirty minutes to do. You always wanted to do right by your kids but if you didnât start sleeping and taking care of yourself, you were useless to everyone, including yourself. You looked up at Bucky through teary eyes.
âAre you going to ask me if the planâs done and Iâm just being picky?â you asked in a small voice. Bucky stood up, taking you with him. He pressed your frame against him, putting your arms over his shoulders and resting his hands on your waist. He stayed to sway slightly, trying to lull you back to sleep and to try to help quiet your mind. âI wouldnât say picky I just...look. Iâm being selfish. I want you to come to bed with me. I want you to play with my hair and whisper that you love me when you think Iâm out cold asleep,â he gushed, noting the slight blush that crept up your cheeks. âYou are incredible. Your admin are literally fucking stupid, doll. Nothing you do will change that. You are trying your best and if you think that your kids wonât benefit from the 12 different plans youâve cooked up, then youâre crazy. Your kids donât need a version 13, baby. They need you whole, in one piece, and ready to fight for them if they need.â He kissed your forehead, trying to ease your creased brow. Giving in to his ministrations, you sighed. You thought about how this plan shouldâve probably only taken an hour. But then you rewrote the plan for the week based off of if your kids took a lot of time on the test, a little time, got anxious during it, caught on fire during it, committed larceny during the test and you had to contact the police. You knew it was overkill but you also knew that budget cuts were coming, contracts were up at the end of this year, and you and Bucky were saving to buy a house instead of living in a condo forever.Â
âBuck?â you whispered. He lifted his chin off your head and looked down.
âYeah, doll?âÂ
You felt the exhaustion settle into you all at once. âCan we go to bed?âÂ
Picking you up and putting you in a firemanâs carry, Bucky held you the whole way down to your bedroom. He pulled out a shirt of his for you to sleep in while you brushed your teeth and rinsed off in the shower. He walked in right as you were towelling off and he slipped it over your head with ease. He offered to blow dry your hair but you declined, favoring slipping into a warm sleep with him. He cuddled you close, forgoing asking you to play with his hair in favor of trying to hug all the pride he felt about you into your body via osmosis. Your head was resting soft on his chest, one arm curled protectively around his torso. His metal arm was tucked up and around your shoulders, keeping you comfortable. His flesh hand caressed your arm around him to remind you that he would always be there for you. He loved you more than anything. As your breathing evened and his hand on your side rose in gentle time with your breath, he decided that he was going to call Tony tomorrow. He knew a few people who owed him from his time as the Winter Soldier and if they didnât want their dirty laundry exposed, dammit he was going to make someone in the district fix the stupid test until it worked how you wanted it to work. He hugged you closer to him, giving you one final squeeze before he started drifting off to sleep. He slipped into a dream where he was a professor and you a naughty schoolgirl and he had just convinced you to bend over to pick something up behind his desk when...a loud snore from you jolted him back to the reality of his exhausted teacher girlfriend wearing his baggy shirt, with hair going every which way. There was no plaid skirt here. Only love and admiration. Bucky kissed your temple and willed sleep to come again.Â
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Silence (Part 2)
Masterlist//Series Masterlist
Peter Parker x Stark!reader
Summary: You and Peter have been best friends ever since he stepped foot into the avengers compound. After a year of being friends you realize youâve developed a crush on him, but he doesnât feel the same way... at least, you donât think he does.
A/N: Thanks for the love on my last post lol :) Sorry it took so long to post this Iâve just been so busy with school but I just got out for winter break so hopefully Iâll be able to write a lot over the next few weeks! Also sorry this chapter is so short and probably really bad I wrote it super fast because I just wanted to post something. I promise part 3 is going to be a lot better than this haha.
Warnings: language, a little bit of angst, Peter being kind of a jerk (sorry but I promise he doesnât mean it lol)
~~~~~~~~
Sitting in Peterâs bed, you look beside you to see that he is still asleep. You want to shake him awake and yell at him to get up and celebrate your one year anniversary, well friendiversary, that is. But instead, you choose to admire him in all of his cuteness for a few more moments. You smile looking at the way his cheek presses against the pillow, his fluffy curls strewn across his forehead, his mouth slightly open, snoring quietly. God, youâre so in love with him. But heâs not in love with you, and you know that. Youâre just friends, and thatâs all youâll ever be. But you still had that small sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe he likes you as much as you like him.
You couldnât bare falling for him more, so you rustle him awake.
âPete! Get up get up get up! Guess what day it is?â you say, repeatedly slapping his arm.
Peter stirs, slowly opening his eyes, smiling at you as you stand over him on the bed.
âWell good morning to you too princess.â
You canât help but blush, as you do every time he calls you that. Princess is his nickname for you, and even though he says it multiple times a day, you never seem to get over it. It only makes you fall for him harder.
Ignoring the butterflies in your stomach, you repeat your question, âGuess what day it is?â
Peterâs eyes widen, âOh no, oh my god. Is it your birthday? Did I forget your birthday? Shit shit shit-â
You cut him off, laughing, âNo stupid, you didnât forget my birthday.â
âThen I give up, what day is it?â
âCome on Pete, you canât give up that easily! Guess again.â
âWell, itâs not a major holiday, I know that much. And itâs not either one of our birthdays, so Iâm lost. Just tell me.â
âItâs our one year friendiversary! Itâs officially been one year since we met!â
âOh, really? It seems like way longer than a year, but thatâs cool I guess!â
You couldnât help feeling a little hurt that he didnât remember. But at the same time you didnât really expect him to. It wasnât like he had been tracking the days in a journal or writing down all the memories from your time together on little pieces of paper to look back on when you were sad like youâve been doing for the past year. But that didnât mean he didnât value the bond between you two, right?
âWell, I have a big day planned for the two of us! Weâre going to do all our favorite things today. Weâll have pancakes for breakfast, and then weâll go walk around New York City and go to Delmarâs for lunch, and after that weâll come back to the compound and watch all of the Star Wars movies for the rest of the night in the theater! We can even set up a tent and buy a bunch of snacks and candy like we did for our first movie marathon!â you ramble excitedly.
âOh, um, well I was planning on hanging with Ned and MJ today, but Iâll text them and tell them Iâm hanging out with you instead if you want.â
Your stomach dropped. Today meant so much to you, and he was planning on hanging out with his other friends?
You wanted to scream at him, tell him how much of an asshole he was being. But instead, you bottled up your feelings, just as you have been all morning.
Faking a smile, you say âOh, well they can tag along if they want to. More people, more fun, right?â
âAre you sure? It can just be the two of us if you want, I donât think theyâll mind much.â
âNo, no, its totally fine. Tell them to meet us at Delmarâs at noon.â
âOkay, cool! Iâll text them. Todayâs gonna be so much fun!â
Youâre on the verge of tears, and you have to get away from Peter before you break, so you quickly stand up and say, âIâm gonna go shower and get ready. You can start on the pancakes if you want, or you can just wait for me and we can make them together.â
Without waiting for Peter to answer, you leave his room, shutting the door behind you probably a little too hard. You run across the hall to your room and fall on your bed, immediately starting to cry.
Maybe youâre overreacting, making a huge deal out of nothing. Is it that big if a deal that he just wants to hang out with people other than you? Were you being possessive? But on the other hand, when you think about it, itâs been more than just today.
For the past two months or so, Peter has been ditching you to hang out with his school friends. It made sense at first, since school just started back and he hadnât seen them all summer because he was hanging out with you. But recently, it seems heâs been choosing to hang out with them over you.
In fact, the two of you havenât spent time together outside of the compound in weeks. Sure, youâre still close, but only when youâre in the compound around the other avengers. Every time you ask if he wants to go to the movies or go to Delmarâs, he always has an excuse, usually that he already has plans with Ned or MJ. Or both.
This only makes you cry more. How could he do this to you? Why is he doing this to you?
Then you realize. MJ. He fucking likes MJ. He would rather hang out with her than you. Thatâs why he always ditches you for her and Ned, why he never hangs out with you anymore.
And now you have to spend an entire day with her. God, you should have just told Peter to tell Ned and MJ that he couldnât hang out, but you panicked, what else were you supposed to do?
Suddenly, you hear a knock at your door. Itâs Peter.
âHey, are you okay? You ran out of my room pretty fast. Are you mad at me for inviting Ned and MJ or something?â
Shit. He knows. How the fuck does he know everything?
âOh, uh, no, no its fine! Um, I just know that we only have a few hours until we meet them and making pancakes can take a while and I can take a while to get ready and I just wanted to get a head start thatâs all.â
You definitely sounded suspicious. You said that way too fast. But somehow Peter seems to buy it.
âOh, well, okay! Why donât I get started on making the batter while you finish getting ready and then we can finish making them once you get downstairs.â
âYeah, um, sounds good. Be down in like thirty minutes.â
âOkay! See you then!â
Fuck, even his voice sounds cute.
Stop, you canât do this. Not anymore. He likes MJ, not you. Youâre just friends.
While you shower and get dressed, you try to come up with a plan on how to keep your cool and attempt to act normal today. Usually, you didnât have to think about a thing when you hung out with Peter. But now, itâs different. Well, for you it is at least. For Peter, nothing has changed. But for you, it seems like everything has.
In the span of about fifteen minutes, Peter destroyed any chances of you two being together. Not that he said anything, but you just know. You just know he likes MJ.
#peter parker#peter parker fluff#peter parker smut#peter parker x reader#peter parker x stark!reader#peter parker x stark!daughter#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker series#stark!daughter#stark!reader#tom holland#tom holland smut#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland x reader#tom holland series#tom holland fluff
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Half-way (Part two)
pairing: Akaashi Keiji x y/n (gender neutral, I think I stayed clear of using any pronouns for reader, please correct me if I made a mistake)
genre: angstish with a little bit of an open ending
warnings: aftermath of a break-up. Mentions of unhealthy coping strategies (bad eating habits, kinda isolation), usage of the word death twice, my bad writing skills ^^
a/n: this is part 2 out of 3 of this fic. I really love interactions very much, so feel free to tell me what you think of this :) Reblogs are greatly appreciated. Part 3 will follow some time this week I think :)
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Two weeks have passed by since âthe dining table incidentâ, as you call it. Your days consist of laying in Atsumuâs guest room, refusing to exit it. If it wasnât for Atsumu bringing you food twice a day and sitting next to you on the bed until youâve eaten all of it, you would probably have starved to death by now. You just donât have the energy to go out and do stuff. You just want to lay in bed with the blinds closed and reminisce about Keiji and you and how it all began.
Keiji and you met way back when you first moved to Tokyo. You were a very shy, very anxious, and most of all, very lost young person, trying to find your way to the little bookstore your friend told you about. To be fair, you never were big on orientation. Your father used to say youâd get lost on the way to your bathroom if it werenât for your flat being so...cozyâŚ
So you were just wandering around the streets of the city, looking like a lost puppy and -just your luck- it started to rain cats and dogs. And of course, you being you, the new umbrella you bought was sitting at home. Just as you found refuge under a hotel entrance, hugging yourself to find some sort of comfort and already wet to the bone, a voice next to you spoke. âExcuse me, but is this your phone?â
You slowly turned to face the person attached to the deep, raspy voice. You locked eyes with a tall, very handsome dark haired man with an unreadable facial expression, holding a (your!) phone in his hand.
âOh my god, could this day get any worse?â you said, anger evident in your voice as you inspected the broken screen of your very new phone.
âSeems like Murphyâs law strikes again.â The man next to you spoke.
âHuh?â, you looked at the man with furrowed brows. You were absolutely not in the mood to entertain a stranger right now. You let your eyes wander over the young man standing next to you. His dark hair was wet and drops of rain ran down his forehead. His blue eyes were soft and his smile seemed genuine.
âWhat I mean to say is, it seems that your day is not going all too well, considering you kinda said so yourself. So - Murphy's law.â He smiled at you again, wider this time.
âOh, well yes, it seems like everything is going wrong today, that is right indeed.â You answered, a small smile making its way to your lips. You bowed to the man with no name.
âThank you very much for saving my phone. My name is y/n, may I ask yours?â
âNameâs Akaashi Keiji. Nice to meet you y/n. This may be overstepping a bit considering you donât know me. But would you let me take you out for a coffee to cheer you up?â Keijiâs smile widened at your nodding.
âThat would be very nice of you, thank you very much, Akaashi.â you answered shyly.
âPlease, call me Keiji.â
You nodded again, a smile spreading across your cheeks.
Keiji led you to a small cafĂŠ. Ironically, the cafĂŠ was right next to the bookstore you were looking for. You giggled as you noticed, making him look at you in confusion.
âSorry, itâs just funny how I was looking for that store right here for hours today and then I meet a stranger who brings me exactly where I wanted to go.â
âWell, this is fate then, donât you think?â Keiji offered you an even wider smile as before. You didnât think it was possible but he became more attractive with every minute you spent together.
The two of you sat at the cafĂŠ for quite a while. Keiji asked you why you moved to Tokyo and you asked him about his job. Keiji seemed very interested in you and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. His entire being intrigued you. It became clear very fast that the two of you had a lot in common. For one, you both liked to read. He told you about his friends and about his time in highschool, you told him about your family and your dreams. Time seemed to fly by, without neither him nor you noticing. It wasnât until the waitress asked the two of you to leave because the shop was closing that you checked the time on your phone.
âOh, itâs late already. And I didnât even get to go to that bookstore,â you say, blushing slightly "donât get me wrong though, I really enjoyed your company, you actually did cheer me up today Keiji. I really appreciate the effort.â
âOh, I am sorry you didnât get to go to that store. Itâs actually really cute and they have lots of antiques as well. If you let me, I would like to take you on a date there some time? Maybe Saturday afternoon, say 2pm, what do you say?â Keijiâs eyes held something similar to hope in them. And who were you to destroy that? So you agreed.
The rest was pretty much history.
Keiji and you took each other out on different dates almost every other day for two months before he asked you to be his on a late sunny afternoon the two of you spent sitting and reading to each other in the park. The kiss that followed was a bit reluctant at first but tender and passionate nonetheless.
After that, the both of you became almost inseparable. You met his friends, he met yours and a little after a year the two of you moved in together. Everyday spent with Keiji was filled with love. From cooking dinner together to waking up next to him, his arm slung over your side, chest flush against your back, everything felt like home. Keiji became a home to you when you werenât even looking for one.
Going through all these memories that connect the two of you makes you tear up again. You just wish for Keiji to come back to you. But since the break up you havenât heard anything from him. It is killing you, at least thatâs how it feels. But death would be too easy, so you are left suffering that loss.
At your shared apartment, Keiji is reading your letter for the nth time over and over again. Tears fill his eyes, the sound of his heart breaking audible in the sobs he lets out. And as if to punish himself, he reads your words again:
My dearest Keiji
I know you think taking a break from us is the right thing to do. And although I disagree, I nonetheless accept your decision. It hurts, I am not gonna lie to you. But I do understand where you are coming from. I just want you to know that I will always be here for you. If you decide that you want to end things definitely, I will accept it. But if you come back to me, I will be here with open arms.
Just know that you always were and always will be enough for me even in times when you don't see yourself as worthy. You are the most kind and most loving person I know and you make me feel so loved. And I can just hope that you feel the same way when thinking about me. If I did something to make you doubt yourself I want you to know that I would never doubt you. Sure, sometimes you annoy the shit out of me but I know for a fact that I not once doubted your love and affection towards me. And that, my love, will never change. I will never see you as anything less than the best part of my life. So if you decide to come back to me, I'll be here.
I love you today, I love you tomorrow and I'll love you every day after that for the rest of my life if you let me.
Forever yours
Y/n
All he can think about is that he wants to hold you again. He needs to, otherwise his life will never feel complete again, this much is obvious. He knows he fucked up bad by sending you away. He needs to make this right, he thinks. So he takes a piece of paper and writes down a plan. A plan to make the heartbreak end. A plan to bring happiness back into his life. The happiness he knows in the form of you.
He knows love is real because he can feel it. He can feel it with every fiber of his being when he thinks of you. He can see it in the way his eyes are dark and lifeless and the bags under them are the embodiment of the loss he feels every night when he canât sleep because you are not laying in his arms.He knows love is real because it is what he feels whenever he looks at your pictures or when he reads your letter. And all he wants is to make you his again.
#keiji x y/n#keiji x reader#akaashi x reader#akaashi x you#akaashi x y/n#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu angst#akaashi angst#akaashi keiji#haikyuu fanfiction#akaashi fanfiction#akaashi x gender neutral reader
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lacuna - part 9
din/reader
well shit guys,,,,this is the last one.
this has been a labour of love and i just want to say a huge huge thank you to everyone whoâs commented and reblogged and sent me asks and even just lurked and read it. seriously, from the absolute bottom of my heart, thank you. iâd also love to extend a special thank you to @keeper0fthestars and @chatterbean for consistently cheering me on throughout this fic. and an extra extra special thank you to @bee-dameron for being the most incredible sounding board, and without whom this fic literally would not exist. this was really my first jump back into writing fic properly and i couldnât be more grateful for the love its received. it might be the end for the main storyline, but itâs definitely not the end of this universe đ
series masterlist // main masterlist
word count: 4.9k
warnings: angst angst angst, rebel is healing, din is having the worst time of his life (all of season 2), swears, yes i am referencing That Monologue
He canât stop hearing it.Â
How you pleaded with him, how you begged him to stay, how you cried when he left. Dinâs sure itâs a sound thatâll haunt him for the rest of his life.
Din has been staring out at the swirling lights of hyperspace for hours when the kid clambers up into his lap, his stomach lurches when he notices three little green fingers curled around a corner of your old blanket. The kid leans over to frown at the second passenger seat. Empty.
âI know, buddy. Itâs my fault, Iâm sorry.â His voice is wrecked, the sound of it so harsh through the modulator that even he flinches.Â
Dinâs still not completely sure that the child understands him, but his little ears droop down at the apology and he wraps himself up as best he can in your blanket. Five minutes and youâve charmed the little thing. Din isnât sure why heâs surprised, you did the same to him all those years ago.Â
The kid settles back down to sleep in his lap, curled up in the thinning fabric, and one of Dinâs gloves hits the floor before he even realises that heâs slipped it off. The wool is a little stiff with age under his fingers, but itâs been well loved. And been well loved on if his memory serves. He wonders if it smelt of him afterwards. If you spent nights curled up in it, trying to inhale the last memento you had of him before he saw you again, the same way he spent so many nights wallowing in his own memories. He used to wish he had something physical with him to keep close, the cruel irony of your forgotten blanket doesnât go unnoticed now.Â
Part of him wants to bring it back. A peace offering, maybe. He wants to let you get to know the kid better, to help him on his quest to find his home. Or maybe just to stay, like you asked. But he fucked it all up. Youâd probably slam the door of your little home in his face now. Honestly? Heâs pretty sure itâs the least he deserves. He wouldnât be surprised if you pulled a blaster on him with all the ways heâs hurt you.Â
It feels like grief. The way the sorrow settles on your chest, curling itâs cold hands around your lungs and squeezing. You hope it chokes you, if only so you donât have to feel like this anymore. You curl up on the kitchen floor, the cold tile freezing through your clothes, and wonder if this is it.
Kes finds you there, hours after the door was slammed and the sun has set.Â
âIs there something wrong with me?â You canât help but ask, you canât help but wonder. Because even through the pain and the silence and the arguments, you still love Din. Maybe you always will. But youâre not sure it matters anymore. Kes looks at you, confused, and you press on.
âI mean, I laid out how I feel so many times and all he ever did was push it away but- but I know that if he walked in that door right now Iâd let him back in.âÂ
âI think thatâs love, kiddo.â He sinks down to join you on the floor, and if the chill of the tile raises goosebumps on his arms, he doesnât mention it.Â
âLove is stupid,â You pause when he shoots you a look, âNo offence to you and your ridiculously happy marriage, but this sucks.â
You sound like a child, you know that. Just like you know that things with Din were always going to end the way they have. Youâve always known you came second to his creed, so much so that you canât even bring yourself to be angry about it anymore. The alternative is to cry until you lose your voice, so childish seems like the way to go.
âWhat?â You huff. Kes is watching you carefully, in that pensive way that he does when heâs about to call your bluff in sabacc and take the game. Like he always does.Â
âIâm not sure you really think that.â
Heâs right on the money yet again, the fucking asshole.Â
A fresh wave of tears stings your eyes. thankful at least that Kes has found a spot on the floor to look at instead of turning those big sad eyes onto you. Youâre not sure you could take it. Itâs frustration at yourself, mostly, instead of just the heartbreak of being left behind so willingly. So angrily. What is it about you that made the idea of sticking around so repulsive, so disgusting, that he left without a second thought. You thought he loved you, you really did. But youâve been wrong about things before. However much you hate it.Â
âI canât stay here. I canât.â
âI know.â Kesâs eyes lift from the floor finally, settling uncertainly on yours.Â
âIâm sorry, itâs not that I- I want to be close to you guys but,â You flounder for a moment, desperate to think up a reason, âI just canât be here.â
He understands, you know he does. Youâve all lost enough people, physically and emotionally, to know when a place is no longer welcoming. And you do, genuinely, love the little house on the edge of their land. You love the way the sun hits through the kitchen window in the late afternoon, you love the way you can hear the birds in the trees when you wake in the morning, you love the way any of them can drop by anytime they want to. But itâll always be the site of the last time you loved Din, the last time he kissed you. Ground zero of your relationship. If you could even call it that.Â
âIâll be alright. Iâve been without him before.â
You have, youâve been without Din. Youâve spent years without hearing the comm you gave him so much as click. Youâll be alright. In time.Â
Only, there were never arguments before. All those times you left, or he left, heâd never shouted at you the way he did. Youâd never felt the rage he keeps so carefully locked away, not with you in the crosshairs anyway. It sends your stomach churning, remembering the way he denied you so easily.Â
You eye the pouch of credits on the table, just visible over the top of Kesâs head. Why would he leave something like that behind? The Crest is falling apart, heâs got the kid to think about now, why would he forsake a payday for someone heâd so readily abandon.
The dam breaks, and your brave face along with it.
âItâs okay, itâs okay.â Kes shuffles over to sit closer, to draw you into his arms and let you cry it out on his shoulder. So, in turn, you let yourself feel it. Properly. Sobbing until youâre half asleep, breath hitching every now and again, and the sun starts to rise.Â
You donât know why Din left the credits there, and it feels odd to think about using them when heâs the reason this house isnât a home anymore. But he could never give you much, and despite everything you know heâs never been a heartless man intentionally, maybe this is his way of making up for that. A clean slate.
The first thing he thinks of as Din comes to, only seconds after the e-web cannon explodes in his face, is you. Of course it is.Â
You with your feet up beside you on the passenger seat and the child in your arms, wrapped up and snoring softly. No idea of what was coming. Itâs that image that stays at the forefront of his mind, even through the pain of being dragged across the ground into the almost safety of the destroyed cantina.
Thatâs the view he wants, regardless of however futile it is to realise that now. Regardless of the fact that heâs dying and youâre not here. You donât even know. Maybe you wouldnât care if you did. He wouldnât be surprised.Â
But he gave it up for what? For this? Denied himself and the kid safety and a life just for both of them to die on the grotty floor of the cantina on Nevarro. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Maybe he always has been, for refusing you at every turn, refusing to let himself give in and reassess and have the life heâs so desperately wanted with you for years now. Who is he, without his creed?Â
Yours. He knows that now.
Thereâs something profoundly wrong about you not being there as the blood trickles down the back of his neck and soaks into his clothes. As he hands off the child to the people heâs come to think of as his friends and trusts them to do the one thing he canât.
âTake him to Yavin,â He tells them, desperately, âFind the little house at the end of the farm track.âÂ
Youâll take care of the kid, despite everything. Youâll take him in without a question, in a heartbeat. The same way you so effortlessly ingrained Din into your life when you first met. Even if it was accidental on both sides.
Din canât stop himself, as the IG unit lifts his helmet, from remembering the way you did the same. This feels so clinical, mechanical. Thereâs nothing of the warmth and reverence that had been in your touch. Even this close to death, itâs like his bones themselves are calling your name.
âWhat do you think?â Your voice echoes in the empty space. The smell of fresh sawdust is strong in your nose, but you donât mind. Itâs oddly comforting, as though the shop was built just for you. The sound of little footsteps pound over the upper floor and a messy mop of curls appears over the top of the railing.
âI love it. Can I live here too?â Poe grins cheekily.
âYour parents might have something to say about that, buddy.âÂ
He thunders down the stairs beside the little back office and comes to a skidding halt in front of you, kicking up a little dust in his wake. You catch him easily, whirling him around in a circle as he laughs. The way the sound fills the space starts to stitch the edges of your heart back together. Maybe this is what you need to do, fill a new space with light and laughter and the people you love. Somewhere to exist, somewhere to grow. The workshop seems like a good place to start.
A child of The Watch.
What does that even mean?
His covert, his family, itâs- itâs not a cult. It canât be. The way she talked about it, like even the thought left a bad taste in her mouth, sends a shot of anger down his spine. He is not a religious zealot. But, would he know if he is?
Is he?
Dinâs never had cause to doubt his creed, or his covert. They saved him, rescued and raised him. They taught him to fight and to protect and to provide for the covert. Foundlings are the future, right? Would he be less, maybe, to those born on Mandalore? To people like Bo-Katan who wear the armour from generations past, who fought to defend their homeland and their clans. Din doesnât wear ancestral armour, but has he not defended his family with his life? Ancient way or not, it seems like the kind of thing that would be important in any kind of Mandalorian culture. Traditionalist or otherwise.Â
No one has seen his face since he was a child. And yet, he still took off his helmet, every time, for you and believed he was breaking his creed. Sure, you never saw his face, but does that matter? Is it not the principal of the thing? Then thereâs the glaring evidence that there are Mandalorians who can remove their helmets. What does that make him, if heâs neither followed the letter of the creed or whatever rules Bo-Katan has.Â
With the kid safely tucked away and snoring in his little hammock, Din pulls the helmet off and glares at his distorted reflection in the curve of the visor. He can feel your hands on him like youâre there, smoothing over his shoulders and curling around his waist. And as all the tension melts from his body, he knows what youâd say. That he is himself. Din Djarin, and itâs up to him what he wants that to mean. Whether it includes Mandalorian or not. Whatever he wants to be is what he is and youâd never love him less for it.
Love him.
He scoffs at himself. Thereâs no way you feel like that about him now.
âCan you reach right up in that corner?âÂ
Youâd let Poe pick the colour for the walls of the main attic space, and so he and his dad are flecked in bright orange paint as they swirl brushes over the wood theyâd primed yesterday.
Kes has him on his shoulders, fully in charge of the high up sections as heâd so politely asked, while you and Shara are screwing together the fittings for the kitchen units. A pastel blue this time, also chosen by Poe. Although Shara had kindly guided him away from the neon purple cupboard doors that had caught his eye with a quick wink at you. Maybe giving a small child free reign over your interior decorating was a bad idea. But heâd proven to have quite an eye on some things.Â
The four of you had travelled all the way to an inner rim market to find your furniture, deciding on a deep red fabric couch that fit all of you comfortably and takes a considerable amount of effort to rise from. Itâs been pushed back against the half wall that hides the attic living space from the workshop floor. Your bedroom furniture is brand new as well, all light polished wood and soft bedding. The credits Din had abandoned had gone a long way, almost long enough that you can forget where they came from. Sometimes.Â
It hits you again, cross legged on the floor as Shara hands you another piece to slot into place, that there should be an extra pair of hands. Pulling more pieces out of crates or rearranging the layout in the bedroom or hanging lampshades. Itâs nice to be making this new house into a home with your family, but thereâs still a gaping hole where there should be someone else.Â
A warm hand settles on your knee, breaking your focus from where itâs settled at the top of the staircase. Shara. You turn to her with a smile, and blink back a wave of tears when she returns it. You have your family, right here, you donât need him. You donât need him.
âGet down!â Shara calls, just as a shadow looms over you.
Poeâs feet swing over your heads and he laughs when Shara just misses grabbing his ankle, Kes lifting him deftly out of the way at the last second. This is what your life is supposed to be, definitely. The sound of everybody elseâs laughter lifts the weight off of your shoulders just enough for you to breathe, to laugh along with them. For a little while.
Din loses everything in a matter of moments. Everything.
Methodically searching through the ashes of the Razor Crest, of the only home he had left, is the final barrier between him and the guilt about the child. About Grogu. The kidâs become his, undeniably, and he couldnât do the one thing a father is supposed to do. Gideon has him at his mercy, has Din at his mercy now. Whatever the Moff and Dr Pershing have in store, itâs not good. The kid might not even survive.Â
All he can see is his little face, his little arms reaching out as the droid climbed higher and higher towards the cruiser. What kind of a father is he, to just let his son be taken from him? No man who would so willingly see the child in his care delivered to his doom deserves to be called such a thing.
Din kicks the dust at his feet in frustration, all too aware of the new eyes watching him. Grief is a difficult thing in and of itself, itâs even harder when itâs observed. He feels like an exhibit. Sure, the two of them stayed and defended the child without even being asked to, but that doesnât mean he wants them sitting and watching as he sifts through the ruins of his life.Â
Fitting, really, that the one way he always thought he would keep you in his life went up in flames, exploded in much the same way your relationship did. That was his fault too.Â
But itâs all gone now. The Razor Crest, his home, Groguâs bed, your old blanket. Grogu and you. Maybe for good, maybe this is his life now, he doesnât know if heâll ever get either of you back. Maybe heâll launch a rescue mission only to find his son dead and hitch a ride to Yavin only to be turned away at your door. Maybe thatâs what he deserves.Â
âThanks!â You call as the couple stroll out of the main doors and into the sunshine, newly repaired pit droid trotting after them.
âWhich one goes to this one again?â Poe catches your attention, waving the motor over his head. Heâs sitting on the desk in the back office, little eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Youâve been teaching him small mechanic things here and there on his days with you. How to wire a basic console, how to program a droid, how a hyperdrive motivator works. Youâd taken him out with you on a call once, so you could show him the different engine parts of a ship that his mother doesnât treasure. Today, itâs hotwiring lessons.
Kes and Shara had pretended to disapprove when you asked them what they thought about it, and they still would if Poe was the one to bring it up. But the larger community on Yavin still sleeps far too lightly, still sleeps far too little. The kids are learning their history and their life skills, but alongside basic combat and strategy lessons. The older kids can enroll in weapons training and piloting lessons. The war will never fully leave this moon so long as it stands.Â
âWhich one do you think?â You ask, settling down into the chair with your datapad and a mountain of forms to fill out. Poe ponders for a moment, glancing between your expectant expression and the dead motor in his hands.Â
âThis one?â He touches the exposed wires together carefully, huffing when nothing happens.Â
âNo, wait! This one!â The little motor whirrs to life the moment the wires make contact, and subsequently dies again when he drops it to throw his arms up in celebration. You catch it before it can hit the floor and burst into pieces, your own smile wide enough to make your cheeks ache.Â
Youâre living. For the first time in years youâre living, without watching over your shoulder for the Empire, without wondering when youâll see Din again. Youâre spending time with your best friendsâ kid and making a living as the town mechanic. You have regular customers and people who drop by just to say hi, and things donât seem so bad anymore. Even though thereâs a gap inside of you that aches and misses him, youâre starting to be at peace with it.
He doesnât know why he was so stupid as to think the facial scan might work with the fucking helmet on. And now the terminal wonât stop beeping and heâs pretty sure people are looking over at him and thereâs only one option left and- fuck it.
Dinâs hands shake as he lifts the plastic helmet off, the habit of a usually much heavier one makes the movement almost too forceful, and he sets it down.Â
This is wrong. It feels so wrong. The first time any living being has seen his face since he was a child and itâs a room full of Imperials. The organisation that took his parents from him, that massacred whole planets and drove his people underground, that you have spent your whole life fighting against. He feels sick.
It was supposed to be you. Heâs thought about it a lot, since the first time you took him to that little house on Yavin. He envisioned standing in the bedroom, curtains thrown open to soak up the last of the afternoon sun, and youâd smile at him in that way you always did. He would pull you close to press his forehead against yours, he would take your hands and bring them up to close around the lip of his helmet. Heâd tell you it was okay, and youâd lift it off together. Youâd smile, maybe a stray tear would linger in the corner of your eye, and youâd finally get to see him. Youâd trace your fingertips along his cheekbone and press a kiss on the little spot on his jaw where the hair doesnât grow. Youâd tell him you always thought he had brown eyes. Heâd tell you youâre beautiful. And then heâd kiss you, and youâd let him.Â
The terminal beeps again and Din pulls the drive from the port, just in time to turn and face an Imperial Officer.Â
Your head is in an engine hatch when you hear one of the wide metal doors at the front of the shop creak open.Â
âWe just closed up, but you can swing by in the morning if it isnât an emergency!â You call, and hope your voice carries to whoever is standing in your doorway. You donât really have the time for a customer, this speeder repair is already a day late because you were watching Poe last night, but Yavin is a community.Â
However long it took you to get used to after being back on the station, itâs almost like being a part of the rebellion again. Everybody works together to make things a little easier for everyone else. You hear a shuffle of footsteps, slowly edging closer to you, and youâre about to call out again when they say your name.Â
When he says your name.
You hit your head on the hatch as you pull yourself out of it.Â
âNo.â
You canât do this. You canât.Â
All the work youâve done to piece your broken little heart back together starts to unravel, just seeing him standing in your workshop. Every staple and stitch and strip of tape loosens until thereâs nothing left and that gap inside you, the one that sits right under your heart, starts to ache something fierce.Â
How dare he.
How dare he think he can walk into the one place that you have, the one place in the whole galaxy that doesnât stink of betrayal and heartache and him. How dare he think he can disturb the life youâve begun to build without him, however much it hurt. There are nights where you donât think of him now. Nights where you donât wake in the middle of dreams of his touch and his voice and his kisses. And now heâs here and all of your work was for nothing.Â
âPlease-âÂ
âNo. No, you donât get to do this. You donât get to come back and undo everything. You canât.â At least your voice is steadier than you feel, as you square your shoulders and plant your feet in a vain attempt to stay upright. Or to stop yourself running right back into his arms.Â
âI know.â
No, thatâs what breaks the final piece of your heart off. The heart that belongs to him anyway. It always has, even when you didnât want it to. He sounds so broken.
âDid you leave the baby on the ship again?â
You donât miss the way his shoulders tighten, just barely, or how his fingers twitch nervously.Â
âThe shipâs gone. So is- so is the kid,â Din takes a shuddering breath, âI lost everything.â
Everything? What does that even mean? Your stomach flips at the thought of what he might mean, that the kid is gone. Youâre almost afraid to ask. And you hate the painful tug in your chest when his knees give out and he hits the concrete floor with a thud. Thereâll be bruises in the morning.
âHeâs with a Jedi, heâs with his people but-â He gestures vaguely, and you know what he means. You felt the same way every time he left you. If the kidâs a Jedi, he probably should be in the care of people who know what to do. But you canât imagine how it must have felt to just hand the baby over.Â
âHeâs where he belongs.â Youâre trying to stay cold, you really are.Â
âIs he?âÂ
Itâs hard to be cruel to a man whoâs just given up his kid. To a man you love.Â
He says your name again, softly, tearfully. The shudder of a sob ripples through his body and he heaves a deep breath at the same time you do. You can feel it creeping back, every uncertainty you had the day he walked out of your old house. Every bone in your body screams for you to reach out to him, to comfort him the way he should have comforted you when he left you crying for him on your kitchen floor. He canât be here. You have to make him go.Â
âMando-â
âMy name, please use my name.â He interrupts you, desperately. He doesnât mean to, but he canât hear you call him Mando. It never sounded right, not the way his real name does when you roll it around on your tongue. He needs to hear it.
âDin, you canât stay.â
Itâs so hard to hold steady, to keep your voice even, to not just throw it all away and gather him into your arms the way you want to. The way you need to. You were right, all those months ago, when you told Kes youâd take him right back if he walked through the door.
âYouâre home, you know that? Itâs you.âÂ
You say nothing, for fear your words will crack and give you away.Â
âAnd- and every time I left or you left it just, nothing felt right. Not until we were together again, and it scared me. And I hurt you because of it, thatâs my fault.â He sighs, defeated, but continues on when you stay silent.
âIâm so sorry, my love. I- itâs inexcusable. I donât know how to- how to fix it. I donât know if I can,â Din hangs his head in shame, âYou should hate me. I do. I pushed you away and hurt you, when all I ever wanted was you. Just you.âÂ
Itâs not enough to soothe the scars in your heart, the ones that settled deep and angry and split open time and time again. The ones he put there. But maybe thereâs room to make a start.
âI donât hate you,â You press on even as his head shoots up in surprise, âAgainst all my better judgement, I love you. Pretty sure I always have.â
Itâs quiet for a long time. And you think this is when he tells you heâs not good enough for you, that he never will be, and he leaves for the very last time. You know you wonât see him again if he does, but heâll take your heart with him anyways.Â
âCyarâika.â He breaks the silence. Again. But itâs softer than the last time you were in this position.Â
âYouâve called me that before.â
âIâve called you that a lot of times, you were only awake once.â
âWhat does it mean?â Youâre almost afraid to know the answer.
He lifts his hand to his shoulder, to a pauldron with an unusual skull welded to it, and detaches the mechanism. It clatters to the floor, but Dinâs gaze remains firmly locked on yours. He does the same with the other and lifts the bandolier over his head. That too is abandoned on the ground.
âSweetheart.â His vambraces, this time. One, two clang as they hit the floor, followed by his thigh plates.
âDarling.â The chest plate.Â
Heâs kneeling, surrounded by his armour, by the definition of the man you thought he was. All but the helmet. You love him, you canât deny that. Heâs baring himself to you in ways he never has before and you know what it means to him to do this.
âBeloved.â
Your brain stops working. You were so ready to shout and scream and punish him for what he put you through but suddenly none of it matters. Because heâs here, heâs finally here, and heâs telling you he loves you and thatâs all youâve ever wanted.Â
âTake it off, please?â
And so you do.
Your feet are moving towards him before you can even register what theyâre doing and you haul him up off of the ground. Din winds his arms around you automatically, without a second thought, until there isnât a breath of air left between your bodies. No armour, no barriers, just two people who have done far too much damage to each other to ever know anyone else the way you do.Â
His eyes. Oh god, his eyes.
âYouâre beautiful.â You whisper, careful not to disturb the peace thatâs settled. Finally, finally.
âThatâs my line.â He chuckles as you smile, as you feel that gap in your ribs quiet after all these years. An unfilled space, no longer.
Din kisses you, and you let him.
TAGLIST (add yourself here):
@bee-dameron @rebloogggs @keeper0fthestars @remmysbounty @sirianisrock @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean @altarsw @darnitdracoâ @greeneyedblondie44â
#lacuna#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#din djarin#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#star wars#fic#liz does words#oh my god........oh my god its over#sfw
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The Art of Inversion
Neil x Reader
Chapter 9 -Â âThe Kindest of Kisses Break the Hardest of Heartsâ
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4Â , Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8Â (swear Iâll make a masterlist soon)
Summary: Back in London, you find unexpected help in the form of Ives. But when Neil comes back sparks fly... â¨
Warnings: Swearing.
Authorâs Notes: So hereâs the chapter Iâm incredibly excited about... Suppose I should thank Dior for inspiration in this one. Hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing the last scene! Please let me know what you think!
You did not remember the last time you were this happy to be back in London. After the mission in Paris was done, Jasper went back to Boston, and you were free to do what you wanted. You contacted TP, told him how the mission went (without certain details), and in return, got told to wait for more information regarding the next steps. By your estimation, it was less than two weeks left till Kiev and the day when the mysterious plan will be set into motion. You were scared.
Ever since that day in Paris when Neil called, you had a difficult time maintaining normal conversation with him. He would message asking about something as mundane as how your day went, and you would only respond with a short sentence. You could not really explain it if asked. It was as though after hearing his voice and letting yourself have that conversation with him, all the doubts came back with a tripled strength. Suddenly you could almost believe Jasper and his harsh words suggesting that you were not important in Neilâs eyes. Maybe he just liked flirting, and you were conveniently there? That sounded rather plausible. Ever since you started naming those thoughts, an ache in your chest was hard to ignore. And so you did the best you could, which in this case meant low-key ghosting Neil and losing yourself in training and work.Â
Surely with enough time and space, you would get over it (him), right?
That was the state of your mind the day when rather surprising help appeared. You have been back in London for a few days and have not really interacted with anyone. Usually, you would spend two hours in the shooting range and then in a sparring session. After you were done, you would retreat to your room and try to ignore the texts that were still occasionally coming.Â
âHowâs London treating you? Say hello to Anna from meâ you glanced at the screen and frowned.
The instant temptation to text back was still there. Only now, it was tainted with much more anxiety and uncertainty.
âItâs alright, rather quiet. I havenât seen her around though. Maybe sheâs moping after youâ
Like I am? You sighed and chose to focus on notes from the physics class. You were saved from the study by an unexpected knock on the door. Without thinking, you got up and opened it, only to see Ives standing there with a cheeky smile on his face.
âHiâ you muttered, worried you have forgotten how to behave like a human being.
âHello, loveâ he grinned âHope Iâm not interrupting anything?â
âNo, I was actually rather boredâ you admitted with a sheepish smile.
You heard the distinct buzz of a text message but chose to ignore it. You were slowly getting better at the game.Â
âThatâs terrific because I thought we could have a coffee in the canteen and chatâ Ivesâ thick cockney accent was somewhat adorable.
And you could definitely do with a distraction.
âIâd love thatâ you beamed back at him and left the room, locking the door behind you.
As you walked side by side along the corridor, you struggled to say something.
âHow did you know Iâm here?â finally you settled for a rather easy question.
âIâve seen you at the shooting range in the morningâ he watched you closely for a short moment âYouâre fucking amazing, did you know that?â
âOh no, Iâm really notâ you felt your face heat up.
âYeah you areâ he playfully nudged you in the side âYou could probably teach me a thing or twoâ.
You glared at him and then quickly considered your options.
âOnly if you taught me how not to be knocked out within the first two minutes of the hand in hand combatâ you knew you could use help in that department.
âDeal?â Ives stopped and turned to you with an outstretched hand.
âDealâ you shook it with a grin.
Once you made it to the mess hall, you noticed with relief that it was rather quiet. You both made coffee and sat down at the table in the corner. After a few moments of comfortable silence when you sipped your drinks, Ives spoke up:
âWhat have you been up to?â he was eyeing you curiously.
Even though you barely knew him, you felt at ease. There was no enigma of TP to him or Neilâs intensity. Instead, he was just a friendly bloke with sharp wits.
âOh you know, shit mission in New York and now even shittier one in Parisâ you frowned at the fresh memories âThough I suppose the recent one at least ended with successâ you mused.
It was true not all of your missions have ended with a huge fuck up. And that was somewhat encouraging.
âWith Jasper?â
âYeahâ your frown deepened, and Ives grinned.
âMy condolences. Heâs a right pain in the assâ
âWell saidâ you laughed, finally feeling some of the tension of the last few days dissolve.
But it was not meant to be for long. Before either of you spoke again, you heard your phone buzz. You took it out of the pocket and glanced at the received text. It was him, of course. You grimaced and placed the phone screen down on the table as if to avoid the temptation. All the while you felt Ivesâs attentive gaze. He has not missed a thing.
âNeil?â he asked, watching you closely with a neutral face.
âYeahâŚâ you shrugged, avoiding his stare âIâll probably sound pathetic⌠but do you know where he is?â
Once the question was out of your mouth, you felt your cheeks heat up. It was one thing to worry about him daily. Another to actually voice the worries. But Ives did not seem to mind. He quickly considered something before leaning over the table.
âHeâs in India, dealing with some sudden disruption. I was there with him in the beginningâ at your unspoken question, he added âHeâs fine, often said thatâs partially thanks to youâ he eyed you carefully, and you looked down at the table, flustered.
âItâs more that if I wasnât there, he wouldnât even need help in the first placeâ you mumbled, feeling the guilt gnaw at your heart.
Still, sometimes you kept wondering why on earth had he decided to shield you back in the bar. But any possible answer to the question meant having to assume something about Neilâs intentions. And that was dangerous territory.
âShould I ask?â Ivesâ question brought you back to the present moment.
âBetter notâ you smiled wryly, and he just nodded.
âHe wouldnât shut up about you sometimes, you knowâ he spoke up again after a short silence, making you look up.
You were not sure you liked the cheeky smirk that appeared on Ivesâ face. You were not going to give in.
âHeâll get over it in no time, Iâm sureâ you feigned nonchalance as you finished your coffee and met his gaze.
âAre you two good?â
You just shrugged. To be frank, you had no clue how to answer that. Was there even such an entity as âyou twoâ when it came to you and Neil?
âWell, whatever is going on, know that Iâm ready to slap some sense into him if neededâ Ives grinned at you, and you beamed back.
âAppreciatedâ
The next few minutes passed in companionable silence. That is until your brain rudely decided to suggest another pressing question.
âIs he there⌠alone?â you cringed as soon as you said it aloud.
No point in trying to sound disinterestedâŚ
âNah, Wheeler stayed with a couple of othersâ his stare was way too knowing.
You felt a sharp stab of pain in your heart. What even⌠There was no reason to be jealous. Right? As you were internally debating what the new feelings were supposed to mean, you failed to notice Ivesâ grinning at your distress.
âDonât tell me youâre jealousâ he was enjoying it way too much.
âWhat? No, Iâm notâ you tried to scoff at this insinuation but failed miserably.
âYeah, you areâ thatâs how you learnt that Ives had his own version of a shit-eating grin.
Was that a part of the Tenet work application?
âMate, Neil and Wheeler wouldnât fuck each other even if I paid them. But Iâve seen the way he looks at youâ Ives wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and you groaned.
You glared at him, unable to come up with any good response.
âWhat? I may have only seen you two together once, but it was clear to me that dear Neil is interested. Very much soâ he smirked at your wide-eyed stare âBut I donât think thatâs in any way news for youâ he squinted his eyes as though trying to see right through your soul.
âPlease, letâs leave psychoanalysis for another dateâ you grabbed the phone from the table and looked at him pleadingly.
âOf courseâ he grinned âWhen shall we have our first sparring lesson?â
âTomorrow morning. Be there at 9â you got up âThanks for the chatâ
âAnytime, loveâ he waved as you left the canteen.
*** Combat lessons with Ives have proven to be a gift from the gods in the days that followed. He would accompany you to the shooting range afterward as well under the pretence of wanting to learn from you. Even though you were sure it was utter bullshit as he could hit the marks as well as you, if not better, you appreciated the sentiment. To say that his help in the sparring sessions meant you have greatly improved would be an overstatement, but certainly, additional tips slowly started to make a difference. All that distraction meant you also spent much less time wondering about Neilâs whereabouts and asking yourself existential questions about your own feelings. That was probably the best outcome of the situation.
Another morning of the sparring session began with you and Ives meeting in the gym as usual.Â
âDid you sleep well?â he asked as you entered the gym.
âMore or lessâ you grinned, stifling a yawn.
Last night you spent way too much time overthinking the text exchange with Neil. All it took was for him to mention âthe fun you had in New Yorkâ and then compare it to the recent night undercover. To you, it meant that Jasper was right, and you were just another âflirting companionâ. And that shit hurt.
âThat will have to do thenâ he tossed a water bottle in your direction, and you caught it easily.
You set it down on the side and the mat and stood facing Ives. After a short warm-up, he began showing you the way of blocking punches aimed at your upper body. While the demonstration always looked easy, once you went onto the practice, you have begun to struggle. After getting a third light punch to the shoulder, you huffed:
âMaybe I should just give up and become a sniperâ you rubbed the aching spot.
âThat could workâ he grinned âThough Iâm not sure how Neil would feel about that career changeâ
âFuck Neilâ you made sure to put up your guard, expecting another punch.
âI see how it isâ Ives smirked before he threw a hit towards your other shoulder.
This one you blocked. And the one afterward as well. Slowly, with only a few mistakes, you got the hang of the game. That is until you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat by the door. You both turned to see Anna standing there.
âY/N, can I speak to you for a moment?â she sent you a fake smile.
ChristâŚ
âOf courseâ
You looked at Ives with panic in your eyes before you followed her into the corridor. Anna was clearly uncomfortable with having to talk to you, and that did not ease the tension.
âWhatâs the matter?â you spoke up first, hating the awkwardness of the moment.
âNeil called me yesterdayâ she paused, and you frowned.
âYeah?â if she wanted to torture you, she has succeeded.
âHe wanted me to let you know that they got Steiner in New Yorkâ despite Annaâs best attempts at keeping her face neutral, you knew she was enjoying this.
âOkay, thanksâ you smiled weakly, trying to ignore the jealousy building up in your chest.
âOh, and he says he should be back next weekâ now she was smiling dazzlingly.
âGreatâ you mumbled and showed her your brightest grin âThank youâ
With that, you chose to end the tortures for you both and went back into the gym. At Ivesâ questioning stare, you just glared. He understood instantly.
âFuck Neil?â he offered you a sip from the water bottle, which you gladly accepted.
âMhmmâ
There was so much to unpack from what Anna told you. Partially, you knew your ghosting was to be blamed for the situation but still, it hurt. Especially the unspoken fact that Neil has called her. You knew you were being ridiculous but could not ignore the feelings that were attacking every fibre of your being.
âReady for another round?â Ives looked at you worriedly.
âAbsolutelyâ
*** A few days later, as you left a meeting covering suspicious activity around London, your head was most certainly elsewhere. Ever since the awkward situation with Anna, you were not sure what to do with yourself. Only carefree moments were those you spent in the shooting range or learning hand to hand combat with Ives, who was surprisingly great at distracting you.
Walking along the corridor, you were too busy worrying about all those texts you have ignored to see where you were going. With eyes trained on the floor, you barely registered the surroundings. And that is why you were incredibly surprised when you unexpectedly collided with something solid standing on your path.
âFuckâ you muttered before slowly realising that you have, in fact, walked into a person.
You felt someoneâs hands reach out to steady you by wrapping around your waist. The next thing you registered was the smell. A very familiar one that you have tried to repress from memory for the past few weeks. You felt panic surge through your whole body before you let out a long exhale and lifted your head.
âDidnât expect our reunion to be that dramatic, but Iâm not complainingâ Neil grinned at you with that smug look on his face you have grown to hate.
âSorry, I didnât see youâ you choose to stare at his tie.
A nice burgundy one which he has worn in New York, during the mission. At the memory, your cheeks grew somehow warmer, and you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to be swallowed by the earth. But to no avail.
âAre you alright?â his voice broke through the increasing paralysis.
âYeahâ you forced yourself to look up at him again.
The concern in his eyes only made your desire to run stronger. But his grip on your waist was unyielding. You were acutely aware of standing in the middle of the corridor. Anyone could pass by and see you like that. But it looked like Neil did not care.
âI tried calling you last nightâ his voice was tense.
Shit.
âSorry I was busyâ you were a terrible liar.
And, of course, he saw right through you. You noticed how the look in his eyes went from concern to serious worry, and you desperately wanted to flee the scene. He was studying your face, and you tried to look anywhere but at him. After a beat, he must have found some answers in your conflicted expression because he relaxed the grip on your waist, giving you a way out.
âIf I said anything wrongâŚâ you were thrown off by the slightly wounded look in his eyes.
Now that you actually could run away, you did not want to. Not without making sure he understood.
âYou havenâtâ you took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing heart âItâs⌠just things that Jasper said and stuff⌠it made me thinkâ you mentally groaned, annoyed at how you could not form a coherent sentence.
But Neil understood as he nodded and reached for your hand. You let him lead you to a quieter spot in the adjacent corridor. You were still paralyzed with conflicting feelings, but now also curious. The voice in the back of your head kept on reminding you how much you have missed him. You had your back pressed against the wall and stared as he slowly stepped closer, making your personal space non-existent. It was suddenly hard to think about the reasons why you should not let him be this close. The look in his eyes was unreadable to you.
âI donât know what that idiot told you or whatâs going on in your head, but itâs all wrongâ you felt his free hand slide up your arm to rest on your neck and gently caress the skin there.
It was embarrassing how you responded to his touch with your body tensing and goosebumps appearing where his fingers made contact with your skin. It was hard to lie, even to yourself.
âWhy should I believe you?â your voice sounded breathless already.
You knew you should have never let him get this close before you talked. But still, the way he looked at you was surprising. Any train of thought was interrupted when he brushed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. His eyes were darker than usual, and the intensity of his gaze alone made the flutters in your stomach appear.
âIâve got a few reasonsâ
Gently he tilted your chin and covered your lips with his. You gasped at the contact and felt him smile against your mouth. Then, as though a switch was flipped, Neil started kissing you hungrily, and you responded in kind, letting your teeth graze his lower lip. When his hand wrapped around your neck, you felt lightheaded and breathless. But still, you deepened the kiss, making all the feelings you have tried to stifle lead the moment. It was scaringly easy to do. Only once you felt like you had no breath left, you broke the kiss and stared back at Neil with a dazed expression. That was not what you expected from your reunion.
âHope that beat whatever Jasper had to offer youâ he grinned, and you enjoyed the sight of his subtly swollen lips.
âPlease donât remind meâ surprisingly, you could still form a sentence.
But that ability was soon to be gone as you watched mischievous sparks shine in his eyes. His lips curled into a smirk, and you knew you were fucked. In every meaning of the word. Before you could react, he leaned in closer again, kissed the corner of your mouth before leaving a trail of kisses down to your jawline, and then crook of the neck.
âNeilâŚâ you breathed out, trying to somehow stop the situation from getting out of your hands.
âYes?â he interlocked his fingers with yours, pinning your joined hands to the wall.
Perfect leverage. Thinking was getting increasingly difficult.
âI⌠Iâve missed youâ that was not exactly what you wanted to say.
You heard him chuckle with his lips brushing the skin on your neck.
âQuite rightâ he kissed the spot beneath your ear âTooâ.
You sighed at the sensation, tightening the grip on his hand and letting your other palm splay on his chest. Through the fabric of his shirt, you could feel the fast heartbeat. It was somewhat encouraging to know that it was not just your heart that was beating wildly. He was kissing your neck with something akin to reverence, which made you feel faint. The traces of reason left in your brain started screaming for attention.
âNeilâ you huffed, annoyed at how you were unable to voice the mess of thoughts.
Slowly he lifted his head and looked back at you.
âI really like how you say my nameâ the roguish grin that began it all was back to haunt you âSo breathlessâ his voice was huskier than usual.
He wanted to kill you, evidently.
You met his gaze helplessly, feeling vulnerable with how he could see right through you. He looked almost fascinated by your stunned expression. Then his eyes softened.
âI missed you tooâ you felt his hand travel down your body to settle on the hip âSo muchâ.
That admission was all it took for you to lose it. Again. You leaned in and initiated another kiss, unable to deny the need you felt. Neil was ready as he easily matched the tempo you have set. This time neither of you wanted to rush it. Instead, you kissed slowly and delicately, enjoying the careless moment. You tangled your hand in his blonde strands, tugging lightly to bring him even closer. He groaned at the sensation, making you feel a new kind of tension. You wanted him to make that sound again. But before you could find ways of achieving that, on the periphery of your attention, you heard the distinctive sound of footsteps approaching fast. Then they stopped abruptly and were replaced with a shocked gasp.
You opened your eyes and found yourself staring straight at Anna. Fuck. She was frozen in the spot three meters away and had a bewildered expression on her face. You knew there was no way in hell she has not realised what was going on. You could only watch as her face scrunched up in a scowl before she turned on her heels and almost ran back down the corridor. That image was enough to help you wake up from the daze. Gently you disentangled from Neil, who looked confused. Despite the reality of the situation downing on you, you grinned seeing his ruffled hair and disoriented gaze.
âWell done, now Anna hates meâ you warily eyed the corridor before settling your eyes on him again.
You watched as he slowly absorbed the information, frowned, and then brightened up again when he met your gaze.
âPretty sure she did alreadyâ he eyed you carefully as though assessing the state he brought you to.
Conscious of how you looked, you smoothed your hair and patted your blazed cheeks. There was no pretending that nothing happened, even if you wanted to.
âWhy?â you arched your eyebrow at the implication.
âYou know whyâ he just smiled as though it explained everything.
You didnât know why. At all. You watched as he ruffled his hair even further by combing a hand through it, and your eyes settled on the exposed forearm and rolled up sleeves. For some reason seeing him like that was very thought-provoking. You knew he caught your stare when you heard him chuckle.
âLike what you see?â it was that smug smirk again.
You could not help but roll your eyes at him. This time the voice of reason was not so easily ignored.
âWe really should talk beforeâŚâ you did not even want to finish the sentence.
âBefore?â Neil took a step closer again.
âBefore we do something much more reckless than⌠thisâ you gestured vaguely and took a step back.
âWould that really be so bad?â he bit his lip and eyed you curiously again.
You have had enough. Placing a hand on his chest, you pushed him back. That clearly surprised him.
âLetâs just talk. Pleaseâ you put on your best puppy eyes just for him.
That did the job. Thankfully.
âCouldnât say no to thatâ he grinned and took your hand in his âCâmonâ
Now you just had to figure out what to tell him. The only issue was that you had no idea about how you felt⌠Fun.
#tenet#neil tenet#neil tenet x reader#neil x reader#neil tenet imagine#neil tenet fanfic#tenet fanfic#robert pattinson#the art of inversion
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Metal Fingers
A/N 1: This fic is for my lovely beta/bestie @wowjeena Heyyo, would you be up to writing a soulmate au with Bucky? You can choose which type of soulmate au but can you make the reader a normal person (so not an Avenger or anything related)?? Thanks girl and if you donât wanna thatâs chill đđźđđź So... itâs not exactly a soulmate au, but I hope this is okay instead âşď¸đđ Iâm also so sorry it took so long. I hope you like it, my dear.
A/N 2: The Bucky Barnes Exhibit states he was born in 1916, but at the bottom where it gives his life span, it says he was born in 1917. I googled it to find the correct year, and it said 1917⌠I donât know what to do with that information, other than to tell you guys thereâs a mistake in the movie.Â
A/N 3: I apparently couldnât make this a one shot, so itâll be a multi part story. Iâm aiming between 3-5 parts
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x single mom!reader
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1.5k+
~~~
Part 1
A Fallen Comrade.
James Buchanan âBuckyâ Barnes
Born in 1916, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom. Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian front. Captured by Hydra troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, deprivation and torture. But his will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America.
Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain Americaâs newly formed unit, The Howling Commandos. Barnesâ marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed Hydra bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater.
He knew these words. He read and reread them dozensâ if not hundredsâ of times. He wrote them down in every one of his notebooks as he was scrapping, searching for his memories that were just out of his reach. He could nearly taste them. They fluttered teasingly in front of him: close, but not close enough for him to snatch out of the air of uncertainty.Â
He pulled a fresh notebook from his bag and a pencil, worried away from teeth and words.Â
Start with what you knowâŚ
My name is James Buchanan Barnes. I was taken captive by Hydra and was used by them. I know a man named Steve. He was my friend. Â
He trailed off. This is where he always was left floating in a sea of not knowing. He was left grasping for more. He was a starved man, empty without his memories. The few he managed to uncover did little to tide him over from insanity. He bit at that familiar indentation on his pencil, trying to think of something, anything at this point that was more than those four simple sentences heâs written everyday for the past several weeks. Sighing and pulling his baseball cap lower in frustration, Bucky returned his supplies to his bag, stood, and swung it over his right shoulder. Eyes low, and clutching his bag, Bucky made his way towards the exit of the crowded museum. Ever since the Potomac, this section of the Smithsonian was more packed than usual.
Nearly there. Nearly there.Â
It was an understatement to say that Bucky Barnes didnât like crowded areas. Too many bodies, pressing, and pushing against each other, loud noises, pointless conversations discussing mundane things.Â
Nearly there. Nearly therâ
âOof!â
He wouldnât have noticed the boy that ran into him if his bag hadnât slipped from his hand, spilling out the contents onto the floor. Bucky hurriedly crouched to retrieve his precious memories. He barely registers the boy picking up the items that had strayed a bit further.Â
âHere you go Mister! Iâm sorry for bumping into you like that.â
Bucky silently takes his belongings back from the little boy standing in front of him.Â
Bucky unintentionally begins to analyze him.
Probably seven or eight. Bright eyes. Tousled hair. Skinny. Doesnât clear 100 pounds soaking.
He shakes his head. Stop. No more.Â
âWhoa, cool! Metal fingers!!â
Bucky quickly retracts his fingerless-gloved hand.
The boy pulls his hand from his sweatshirt pocket. âYours are cooler, but I have metal fingers too! Well, actually itâs a metal arm because the doctors had to get rid of my real one because I got hurt super bad, but I think itâs really cool.â
The boy said this all extremely fast, Bucky had to blink a few times to register what he had said. A compliment? For his hand? A hand thatâs maimed, killed, and caused so many people to suffer?
âUh⌠I⌠I have a metal arm too.â
The little boyâs eyes widened even more. He wasnât sure what made him do it, but Bucky took off his glove and showed it to the boy.
He took Buckyâs hand in his and stared at it, looking back and forth at Buckyâs hand and his. Bucky stood there stiffly, unsure how to respond. The boy looked up at Bucky solemnly.
âDo you have super powers?â he whispered.Â
Bucky couldnât help but crack a smile at his seriousness, but before he could answer, a woman came running through the crowd.
âNoah!â
The boy turned to give her a lopsided grin. âHi Mom!â
âHow many times have I told you to stay by my side, young man?â
The boy, Noah, dropped Buckyâs hand and took a step closer to the woman. âSorry. But Mom!â
A raised brow silenced Noah. The woman looked up at Bucky.
âIâm so sorry if he was bothering you. Heâs very social.â
Bucky forgot how to speak for a minute. The woman standing in front of him was⌠well, heâd never seen anyone as beautiful as her. Bright, sparkling eyes confirming where Noah got his from, a soft voice, and a sweet smile.
âOh, uh, no. I mean, he is. I meanââ When was the last time he had gotten tongue-tied?
Bucky cleared his throat, forced himself to try to ignore the sweet smile that was widening, and tried again. âHe wasnât bothering me. We were just talking aboutââ
âHis metal arm! Look at it, Mom!â Noah hurries back to Buckyâs side and holds his mechanical hand. âLook how awesome it is! And itâs huge!â He started poking Buckyâs upper arm and gasps. âAnd so are his muscles!! I bet he could crush anything!â
Noah began miming picking up heavy objects or crushing imaginary things, complete with sound effects. Bucky doesnât miss Noahâs motherâs eyes widen slightly when Noah pointed out how massive his biceps are.
âNoah, honey, why donât we go check out the exhibit?â
âOh yeah! Letâs go, Mom!â He nearly takes off again before giving his mother a sheepish smile.
âWhat did you do?â
âI⌠I turned our map into a paper airplane.â
âAnd?â
âAnd... it⌠flew out of my hands?â
âMm hmm. I see. Well, I guess weâll just have to come back another time.â
Noah gasps and clutches his momâs hand. âNo! Please Mom! Donât do this to me!!â
Her laugh causes Buckyâs heart to skip a few beats, and it frustrates him that he doesnât know why.
âWhich exhibit are you looking for?â
Noah looks at Bucky and salutes. âWeâre here to see the Mister Captain America exhibit.â
âI could take you guys there.â
What. On earth. Gave him that idea?!
âWoo! Letâsââ
Noahâs cheer was cut off by his mother. âOh, no thatâs okay. Iâm sure youâre busy and you probably have something to get to you.â
Sheâs right⌠Why did I even offer in the first place? I canâtâ
âItâs not a problem. I was heading over there right now actually.âÂ
Jesus! Whatâs wrong with me?
Noah grabbed his motherâs hand and followed Bucky to the famed exhibit.
~~~
âSo, I take it Noahâs a fan of the Captain?â
The beautiful lady standing next to him nodded. âYeah, Noah loves him; really looks up to him.â
âMakes sense, heâs a good guy.â
âSounds like youâve met him before.â
âYou could say that.â
They were pulled away from their conversation when Noah ran up to them, grinning.
âMom! Look how skinny Steve was! And, and his friend? Um⌠Bucky? Yeah! Bucky! He would always help Steve out because Steve would always get in fights! So Bucky would come and have to save him!âÂ
Noah then proceeded to animatedly tell his audience how Steve became the Captain and fought in the War. When he went to go read the display in front of Steveâs motorcycle, Bucky turned back to the woman.
âIs this his first time here?â
She nodded and smiled. âI promised I would take him when I had a day off. Heâs been waiting for weeks.â
A pause.
âHow âbout you?â
âWhat?â Damn that smile! He got distracted.
âI take it this isnât your first time here?â
âNo, maâam.â
Her giggle caused his firm expression to slip into a small smile.
Bucky spent the rest of the afternoon showing Noah around. He learned that Noah and his mother had been in a terrible car accident two years before. The injuries Noah sustained to his right arm were irreversible, thus leading to an amputation, a prosthetic arm, and even though she didnât say, expensive medical bills burdened on his mother.
When the museum closed, Noah was asking his mother when theyâd be able to return.
âIâm not sure baby. How about next weekend?â
Noah did a little dance showing his affirmation. Then he looked at Bucky.
âWill you be here too, Mr. James?â
âUh, yeah sure kid. Iâll be here.â
Noah fist pumped as his mother said goodbye to Bucky.
~~~
Holy shit. Holy shit!Â
You had been trying to keep your cool ever since you found Noah with James. You were eating dinner and you still hadnât gotten over him. That man was fucking stunning. Blue, blue eyes that were filled with such sorrow, a smile that made your insides flutter, and a deep voice you were willing to listen to for hours on end. Soft and sonorous. And he was so sweet and kind with Noah. That alone had you taking a liking to him.
âMom?! Mom!â
âOhâ sorry, baby. Whatâs wrong?â
âThanks for taking me to the museum.â
You ruffle his hair. âThanks for being so patient for me.â
He smiles as he shovels pasta into his mouth.Â
~~~
My Ride or Die:
@lehuka123 @thejournalman @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @rebloggingeverything @just-the-hiddles @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @thehumanistsdiary @fanfictionaries @astheworlddturns @bbarnestan @buckyfan12
#bucky fic#bucky barnes#bucky fluff#Bucky Barnes fic#Bucky x you#Bucky Barnes x you#Bucky Barnes fluff#bucky x single mom#Bucky Barnes x single mom#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x y/n#Bucky fanfiction#Bucky Barnes fanfiction#Metal Fingers#thea writes#Metal Fingers part 1
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JC Caylen Imagine:Â âDonât Be Sorryâ
Today's has been a pretty eventful day to say the least. While my boyfriend JC was out with some old friends who came into town to visit him, me and my dad got into a fight... again.
But the thing that hurts the most is not only is this the 4th time in a row he's been caught, but I'm the one that keeps witnessed it. Your probably wonder "the 4th time? Why do you keep falling for his bullshit?"
Welp. He's my dad. I'm not just gonna give up on him completely. When we would catch him doing something he would let fake tears fall from his eyes as he was apologizing to us and we would forgive him.
And then we'd catch him again, he'd apologize, we'd forgive him. It was an endless cycle. But this time I knew I can't get my hopes up to high anymore.
My mom always told me it takes years to build trust and seconds to destroy it. I felt that. He didn't only ruin my trust with him, but my trust with everyone else. I let everything that happened get to my head and now I have major trust issues. With the exception of one person.
JC Caylen
Before i met JC my life was pretty miserable. I lived in Florida with my mom and my older sister. After my mom and dad got divorced, my family slowly started going down hill.
My dad was barely in the picture due to his constant sneaking around as he was hooking up with random people and getting drunk and being so lazy that he never even bothered covering his tracks, allowing us to discover his dirty little secrets for ourselves.
My poor brother was clueless. Had no idea what his own father was doing behind his back and we didn't bother telling him because 1.) he was a very sensitive boy at the time and 2.) he looked to my dad for everything. My dad was his role model.
After awhile of all of this, my sister was diagnosed with depression. Not too severe but even the smallest bit can make you feel like shit. And as for me, I struggled with self love. Because I didn't really have a good male figure on my life I looked to guys for verification.
But after i spent a week with him and the rest of the O2l house at Vidcon i felt like my life was finally picking up. Fast forward a couple years and my sisters depression is gone, my brother grew up to be an amazing dad of 2 kids, and as for me, i stopped looking for verification in guys and me and JC started dating.
We've been dating for 2 years now and he has been nothing but amazing. I love him so much and I know he loves me. Ever since we've started dating people have been telling me they've never seen me so happy before or they've never seen me smile or laugh that much before.
I just wished he was here to comfort me right now. I haven't told him what happened yet. I didn't wanna ruin his day. He was hanging out with some old friends of his who flew down to visit him.
I wasn't gonna burden him with my stupid family issues while he was out with his friends. I turned on a random disney movie and began to watch as I continued to cry at random times when the old memories would pop up in my mind.
I would squeeze my eyes shut and burry my head in my pillow trying to make them stop but they never went away, no matter how hard i tried. Eventually I decided enough was enough. I just couldn't take it anymore. I had to call JC. I grabbed the phone and went to his name in my contacts. I dried my tears and took a few deep breaths to stop myself from crying so he wouldn't notice and be too worried.
After attempting to recollect myself, i pressed call, holding the phone up to my ear as i heard it ring. A few seconds later the line picked up and i heard his sweet voice on the other end.
"What's up baby." JC said in a super deep voice cause you to giggle only slightly.
"Hey JC. Um, I was just wondering when you were gonna be home?"
"Is my girl missing me already?"
"What do mean already you've been gone for hourrrrsssss." She groaned causing him to chuckle.
"I know baby I'm sorry. I'll actually be home soon."
I sighed with relief before responding, "Thank god!"
"Is everything ok (y/n)?"
Shit. Don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry.
She sniffles a little and swallowed hard.
"Y-ya baby why do you ask?" My breath was uneven and he could tell.
"No no. Your not ok. I'm coming over right now."
Don't mess this up (y/n) he's having fun. Don't ruin his day.
"JC it's fine. I'm gonna be ok. Just go hang out with your friends. Have fun!"
"Gonna be?!"
I pulled back and cringed at my own words. Shouldn't have said that.
"Gonna be ok??? (y/n) what happened???" JC exclaimed again. She sighed and rubbed her forehead.
"JC I'm-"
Tell him your fine. He's with his friends. He doesn't need this right now.
Tell him what you tell everyone else in your life. Your fine.
"It's my dad again." I said with tears in my eyes.
What the fuck (y/n)! How could you?!
He can tell by my voice I was crying.
"Fuck. Baby I'm coming over right now." He side sternly. Was he mad?
"N-no JC it's ok really I-"
"No! (y/n) it's not ok! Baby he's put you through so much shit and I'm tired of it! You don't deserve that! You nor your family!" He began to shout a little and it caused her to cry harder. Not because I'm scared of him. But because he cared so much and that meant the world to her. He's the only one who gets it.
He did a deep sigh and you already knew he was running his hands through his hair and pacing, something he did when he was stressed, nervous, or in this case pissed off.
"I'm coming over. I'll be there in a few just hang on ok?"
At first no words were spoken. She didn't want to agree because she still felt bad about burdening him with it. But she was going to lose her fucking mind if he wasn't holding her ASAP so she finally spoke a barely audible "ok".
Immediately the phone call was ended. (y/n)'s phone slid out of her hand and onto the floor. She sat there curled up on her bed for awhile, staring blankly at the floor as her head was leaned on the head rest.
The thoughts and images filled her head again and she began to cry and cry and cry. "Go away." She whispered with quivering lips. "Go away!"
Not too long after the phone call she heard keys rattling as whoever was on the other side, who she assumed was JC, tried to open the door. She then heard footsteps quickly going up the stairs.
Her teary eyes slowly looked up to the door and saw the door knob slowly being turned, then the door opened revealing her boyfriend. In her mind she was smiling, finally being able to see him, but on the outside she unintentionally showed the opposite.
They made eye contact and (y/n) saw the sympathetic look on JC's face. She hated it when people would look at her like that and he knew it. He just couldn't help it. It makes her feel weak and helpless even tho those are the exact words that describe her in this moment.
When she saw the look on his face she quickly looked away, turning her head to the side and squeezed her eyes shut as more tears slipped down her cheeks, slightly embarrassed by her fragile appearance.
She felt the bed beside her dip down meaning JC was now sitting next to her on the bed.
"Baby..."
JC gently touched her chin and moved it to where her eyes had nowhere else to look but his.
"I... I am so sorry."
After looking into his beautiful brown eyes, (y/n) finally gave in and buried her face in his shoulder as she sat in his lap in a straddle like position.
Her arms were tightly wrapped around his neck and the more she cried the tighter she would hold on. In return JC would squeeze her back, both arms wrapped around her waist. He then began to run his hand through her hair and draw small circles on her back in a soothing motion.
JC continued to whisper little nothings in her ear as she gripped his shirt that was soaked with her tears.
"You don't deserve this."
"None of this is your fault."
"You're an amazing girl."
"You're my amazing girl."
After a few minutes or so of them sitting in silence, JC asked her if she wanted to lay down and cuddle while they watched a movie. (y/n) could only nod her head as they repositioned themselves to where she was laying on JC's stomach with her face still buried in his chest. He put on her favorite Disney movie "Finding Nemo" hoping it would encourage her to lift her head and hopefully help calm her.
When she heard the music play softly from the TV she slowly and hesitantly lifted her head from JC's chest as she positioned her head to where she could see the movie displayed on the large screen. JC smiled at her and kissed the top of her head. Occasionally throughout the movie he would rub her back soothingly, play with her hair, and give her kisses on the top of her head or forehead, causing (y/n) to smile slightly.
"Thank you... Seriously," (y/n) said quietly. He was surprised at first, judging by the fact that neither of them have said a word to each other for about an hour (not in a rude way of course but because there was no need for words. They just needed time to think and relax). "No problem, baby. I love you so so much."
(y/n) look up at him, resting her chin on his chest. He noticed how the red puffiness in her eyes went down and there was not a tear in sight, causing his heart to warm and a smile to make its way across his face. "I love you too." They shared a short but sweet kiss and went to sleep cuddled up in their bed as "Finding Nemo" continued to play and lull them into a deep and peaceful sleep.
ngl I hate writing sad stuff (unless yâall request it obvi) but I got this idea and couldnât get it out of my head so youâre welcome. If you have any requests and/or feedback let me know plz! Love y'allđ                                                                 ~Kbug :)
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