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quillyfied · 5 months

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Hellaverse Theories: Hazbin Hotel S1E4

Welcome to Quilly’s Hellaverse Theories, where I overthink the entire Hellaverse! Second episode for tonight is the absolute masterpiece that is Angel’s episode, which might not get my head turning on many theories but does give me many feels, so let’s crack on.

Hazbin Hotel, s1e4:

I SEE IT. 3:38, there’s another Morningstar family portrait in the background right next to Angel’s head, far right. I’ve seen this one up close elsewhere, but it’s nice to see it in the show; Charlie looks a little older, maybe preteens, and her parents are clearly nowhere near each other. Separation impending if not already implemented. Sad. But more importantly: it was painted at that very hotel. The background details of the painting are the same. I just sort of find it significant that Charlie took over a building clearly falling to ruins that not only belongs to her family (and isn’t being used so is perfect for her to just…move into), but might have been the last place she saw her parents together and still making an effort for her. Hmm. Hmm hmm hmm. Interesting.

“Why is this so hard? What am I doing wrong?” PRINCESS OF PRIDE, FOLKS. Said it before. I’ll say it again. She’s a natural at overestimating and underestimating herself all at once, inserting herself into situations she has no business being in and thinking she can do just about anything she sets her mind to, while simultaneously downplaying her own strengths in favor of trying to be what she thinks everyone else needs. Chef’s kiss, perfect character conflict, no notes.

(Angel’s butt has freckles. It’s a detail that makes me giggle every time.)

“I’m—coming!” “Not off camera, you’re not!” Perfect line delivery. Hysterical. Low-hanging fruit but way funnier for going for it instead of passing over it. Nice.

Alright, another aside about Valentino: he’s an idiot, but he isn’t stupid. Not entirely. I’m glad we all reached the same conclusion that Val licking Charlie’s arm is a power move, as is his physical imposition into her space. A reminder to her that she’s in his domain right now, and a clear setup for himself to have all the chips in this interaction despite his wretched poker face. Then again, what need does he have for a poker face when he DOES have all the power in that situation, at least all the power that matters—power over Angel himself, whom Charlie cares about? His ace is right there, out in the open as both symbol and warning. This metaphor is falling apart. I don’t know anything about poker. But y’all get what I’m saying, right? Val doesn’t need to be the smartest man in the room when he’s already made himself the most powerful through fairly simple and effective tactics. Licking his way up Charlie’s arm and offering her a job and making her deeply uncomfortable is him regaining the power she takes from him just by existing in his space as a more powerful demon than he is by default. It’s slimy. It's foul. It’s effective. And it works, dammit.

Charlie. My love. My princess. My dearest. Did you really just try to suggest…more WHOLESOME SCENARIOS for PORN?? Like I believe she can do it, and especially given what she’s watching Angel about to be subjected to, I can see where her mind is at with “more wholesome,” but. The wording. The gumption. Charlie this is pornography, not romance. Not saying the two can be mutually exclusive, but given what kind of studio Val runs and what people go to porn for as opposed to other kinds of storytelling…baby. Honey. No. Bull in a china shop, thy name is Charlie Morningstar.

Alright, this here: the first time we see a demon contract. Obviously no fine print to get our greedy little eyeballs on, just a simple bit of imagery (almost like the contracts in The Little Mermaid, tbh, same color, same sort of vibe, why am I imagining Val swanning around his tower singing Poor Unfortunate Souls and why would Joel Perez absolutely CRUSH it—), but combining that with how casually Val abuses and later assaults Angel really drives home how helpless the contractee is. They’re entirely owned. The only thing they have of value, their souls, their Free Will, belongs to someone else. I imagine soul contracts are of particular abhorrence to Lucifer; they’re actively throwing away his gift when they enter into those. Though he probably never thinks about them at all, tbh, he doesn’t need to own a soul to have power. And the power of souls and owning of souls and what that power can do and manifest as is so nebulous but SO interesting, and I’m especially excited to get to talk to it in regards to Alastor and Husk, but I have to get through the Poison number first, excuse me for a moment.

(Angel is so brave and so good for defending Charlie even though she’s literally the Princess of Hell; I don’t know that she could squash Valentino like the bug he is, not until she gains more confidence in herself, but Lucifer and Alastor certainly could and they both have vested interest in keeping her safe and happy. Though for very different reasons. The point being: Charlie doesn’t need Angel to protect her, but he does it anyway and I love him for that.)

(Additional sidenote: I think Val might have some scary vocal stuff happening when he’s threatening Angel, but that’s as close as I personally remember seeing any other Overlords even come close to what Alastor can do. Which begs the question: is it because Alastor is special, or is it because Alastor is a dramatic bitch who throws his power around because he can?)

The nature of Angel’s contract with Val is so interesting too, especially when put with the visual cues we have about Husk’s even just in the Loser number; Val owns Angel, but can only force him to do things in the studio (which very handily lends quiet strength to Angel’s presence in the first episode and his hurt feelings in the second, and gives more context for Val’s hissy fit in the second episode. If Angel isn’t living in the studio, Val can’t do whatever he wants whenever he wants. Angel gains some independence and it’s powerful). Val can throw Angel around outside of it because he still owns Angel, but the power seems less; however, the look of his chains no matter what are wispy and insubstantial, clearly a callback to Val’s toxin but still not the strongest-looking chain in the world (though because it looks like the toxin, there's also elements of Angel choosing this, Angel being addicted to the situation, Angel's loss of control because of his addiction, Angel wanting to leave but he can't, etc). Angel’s ropes in Loser are a mess, tangled but loose-looking, like he could wriggle out given enough time. Husk, on the other hand, is bound tightly and his chain, when we see it next episode, looks significantly more substantial and real. None of this is new information, we all know it, but still. Establishing this for my own benefit while I spin off into wild tangents about the nature of Overlords and Hell, because Husk says something incredibly interesting during Loser that I have sunk my teeth into and apparently can’t let go of.

But before that: detour to mention how amusing I find it that loan sharks apparently are a constant in Hell, no matter if they’re sinners or Hellborn, but I also really have to wonder if any of the sharks in HH are actually Hellborn and they just didn’t get the black blood that Hellborn have in HB because they’re not allowed to exist in the same universe anymore. I have another example to support this theory but it isn’t until the last episode so I’ll leave it alone for now.

Alright, back to Husk and Overlords and blahdiblahdiblah: I don’t know anything about casino games, so I would love some guidance on this, but…did Alastor win Husk’s soul with a game of “pick a card, any card?” Bc that’s sure as heck what it looks like. I think the flashback might be more symbolic than literal, but with Husk leaning forward with a finger extended, it sure LOOKS like he’s picking a card out of Alastor’s hand and hoping it isn’t one that’s going to screw him over. But even that feels at odds with the wording of Husk discussing his own deal: “So when you’re down on your luck, you’ll do anything to keep yourself afloat, even making deals yourself.” And later, in the song: “I sold my soul to save my power.” What…does that mean? What does it mean for Husk and his abilities now? What does it mean for Alastor and what he gets from the deal?

What Alastor gets from it, I’m building up to, because I’m pretty sure the ultimate show of it is in the finale. But what HUSK got from the deal…is really unclear. He sold his soul to save his power, to keep himself afloat—and yet he doesn’t own a casino (if he ever did in this version, but come on, he was an Overlord, you don’t get to be one of those without at least a base of operations), he’s at Alastor’s beck and call, he doesn’t exhibit any abilities more powerful than any other bog-standard demon. The exploding dice and fighting with cards is cool, but so is the ability to pull six tommy guns out at will. The specifics of what this means might not become clear for a while, but while Husk has a lot of strength that’s more internal than external—his wisdom and compassion are nothing to sneeze at, even if he hides both under layers of cynicism and apathy—it would be very interesting to see Alastor use Husk for something other than bartending and see what utility he might have apart from that. Because Husk as a source of endless entertainment could certainly be all Alastor has Husk for, but this is a guy who made no bones about destroying Overlords, canonically multiple very powerful Overlords, and using them for his own entertainment and power. And yet Husk is more or less just himself despite having once been an Overlord too. Not destroyed, not subsumed, not will-broken. He’s scared of Alastor, as he has every right to be, but not so scared that he won’t grumble and complain and try to talk to his boss when he’s clearly in the middle of a pissing contest with the King of Hell, exCUSE you Husker.

Anyway. My current theory is that maybe Husk made a deal to not be killed or destroyed by someone he got into much deeper water with than he was prepared for, and throwing his lot in with Alastor was better than facing destruction. But still, that element of randomness that appears to be in Husk’s flashback…it haunts me. Sinners sell their souls because they’re desperate. Was Husk even still an Overlord by the time Alastor got to him? Did Husk still own any souls, and if he did, what happened to them? Because as will become clear in one episode, you can have someone else own your soul and still be in control of your own contracts. But whether that’s a special clause of the deal Alastor made, or if it’s usual for even Overlords to sometimes be in thrall to greater Overlords…not sure. Not enough data.

And while I would love to continue typing like a madwoman while I pause these episodes for long stretches of time, I must obey the demands of my body and rest.

#quilly's hellaverse theories #hazbin hotel #quilly writing

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onceupon · 3 years

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London Boy - Part 3: I like girls that dance

summary: It’s your first night out and your first real introduction to Westheath. Rafe is quick to find his way on your radar.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 4.6k

a/n: the way I’m imagining Jack Harlow as I write Liam 😩✋also, im pulling these chapter titles out of my ass - but actually tho, go listen to Girls That Dance by Masego

Part 1 Part 2

Despite your doubts, you put on the sheer top and the black mini skirt Millie and Olivia had insisted you wear. Your favorite pregame playlist plays as you do your makeup in the mirror. You move as quickly as you can, in desperate need of a shot to calm your nerves before your flat fills with people. You’re also nervous about seeing Rafe after that encounter in the kitchen you just had.

As you run your fingers through your hair and put on your earrings, all you can see is his stupid (and annoyingly attractive) face, staring down at you with that dumb backwards cap, telling you that you guys should watch Game of Thrones together. Every time your mind starts to think if that means something, you quickly shut down the thought. Of course it doesn’t mean anything. Just because a boy wants to watch a show with you does not automatically mean he wants you or that this was going to turn into some kind of Netflix and chill situation. Or was this gonna be a Netflix and chill situation? I mean it was Rafe Cameron after all, the boy certainly had a reputation. But then again, hadn’t he just showed you that he’s different from what you had expected? Oh god this was all too much to think about right now, you needed a shot. Stat.

“Y/N!” Olivia shouts, swinging the door to your room open right on cue. “Oh. My. God. You look so hot!” she exclaims. “Here, this is for you,” she extends a shot glass toward you with a devilish grin.

“Oh god what is it,” you grimace. Shots always seemed like a better idea in theory than in practice.

“Try it and find out,” she smirks. You sigh and send the liquid to the back of your throat, immediately cringing at the sting of raspberry vodka, Olivia bringing a cup of cranberry juice to your mouth to chase.

“Don’t worry love, a few more and you won’t even taste it. Now come on,” she laughs, dragging you with her to the kitchen. The rest of your flatmates are already there, Millie bopping along to the music, giggling at whatever Topper is saying, Rafe standing close by sipping his drink.

“Y/n you hottie!” Millie cheers, looking up as you make your way into the kitchen. You pray to god your cheeks aren’t turning pink. You don’t dare turn your head, but you know Rafe is staring at you. If you looked at him now you’d be crimson for sure.

“Alright everybodyyy,” Olivia begins, pouring the same raspberry vodka into the five shot glasses she has lined up on the table. You can’t help but laugh at her infectious energy, this girl is nothing if not the life of the party.

“Cheers to our first night out as flat mates! Wooo!!!” she exclaims, as everyone grabs a shot glass from the table, Rafe instinctively passing you one, hands briefly touching during the exchange and again as you all clink your glasses. You down the contents, unsure if the heat forming in your chest is from the vodka or the feeling of Rafe’s passing touch.

Pretty soon people start to arrive, Olivia and Millie making sure to introduce everyone. The flat becomes a blur of bodies drinking, dancing, and mingling about, and somehow, despite it all, Rafe Cameron is the person you find yourself standing with. There was something magnetic about him that you couldn’t quite understand, but it kept drawing you near.

“What are you drinking tonight Cameron,” you nod at the cup in his hand.

“Jack and coke. Of course,” he scoffs with subtle sarcasm, which you instantly pick up on.

“Not straight whiskey? Wow. That’s not very Figure 8 of you,” you admonish playfully.

“Straight whiskey? L/n who do you think I am?” he twists his face in mock disbelief. “But I’m game to do a shot if you are,” he adds.

“Hmm that does-“ you begin, but you’re quickly cutoff.

“Y/n, babe, if I had known you’d be here I would’ve came sooner,” Liam greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a cheeky smile.

“Now how on earth do you two know each other,” Millie asks, walking in line with the boy.

“Umm,” you chuckle nervously. You could not have possibly felt more awkward at the conversation unfolding in front of you, Rafe standing by as witness to it all. “He’s that boy I went to the bar with the other night,” you explain sheepishly.

“That was Liam!? Chrissake. Well I apologize on his behalf for anything he said or did.”

“Hey I’ll have you know I’m a proper gentleman!” he defends, throwing you a wink as Millie rolls her eyes. Just at that moment, another group of people walk in through the door, conveniently coming to Rafe’s rescue.

“Rafe!” a girl calls and he clears his throat excusing himself, Millie following suit to greet the latest batch of guests. You watch as he leans in for a hug with the girl who’s just called his name. She’s twirling her hair and batting her eyes, confident, flirty, gorgeous - just his type. A sick feeling pools in your stomach, you don’t even realize you’re staring.

“Lily Colts, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Liam informs you as he takes the now empty spot next to you.

“Oh, um no, I was just uh-“

“It’s okay Y/n, I get it. So flatmate huh” he laughs, unbothered.

“No no it’s not like that at all I uh-”

“Alright. Y/n,” he says, jumping up to sit on the counter behind him, cracking open the can in his hand. “You know I think you’re hot and you know I like messing with you-”

“Actually I know neither of those things,” you reply indignantly.

“Yes you do, you’re not dim,” he bulldozes right on, “I can read people pretty well, and there was a vibe there.”

“A vibe?”

“Yeah. Between you and what’s-his-face. You should’ve seen the way he tensed up when I came up to you,” he snickers in amusement.

“Shut up. His name is Rafe, by the way, and there was no ‘vibe.’ Also why are you even telling me this?” you ask, growing frustrated with the cocky brunette.

“Y/n please,” he scoffs. “I told you I can read people, so let me read you. You’re out here in London right, far away from home, keen for a fresh start. You’ve never been one for meaningless flings, but fuck it, if everyone else can do it, why not you? Or so you try to convince yourself, but you know that’s not you. See, you crave that emotional connection, and when you find even a hint of it, you’re a goner. Which is why you’d never actually hook up with me and it’s why you’re staring at that boy from home even though you swear you don’t care, but you do - you feel something there.”

You’re dumbfounded by his ability to know things about you that even you yourself can’t recognize. “I liked it better when you were just flirting with me,” you grumble.

“No worries darling, I’ll definitely still do that. I’ll even dance on you in the club if you ask nicely, might make pretty boy over there jealous,” he motions with his eyes toward Rafe, at which you give his shoulder a shove.

“You’re an idiot you know, Millie was right on the money with that,” you quip, as the two of you head over to her, Liv, and the boys.

“Please, Millie wishes she could be right on something else,” he says as you shoot him a glare, trying your best to suppress a laugh. Liam was starting to become a pain in your ass, too smart for his own good, but at least he was a funny one.

—

Your first night clubbing was going great. The place was packed, the music was good, and you were having a blast dancing with Liv, Millie, and their friends. You couldn’t help looking around the club though, eyes scanning for Rafe in the crowd. He’d been hanging out all night with Topper and some of the guys from their new soccer team. You longed to be near him somehow, to interact with him again. All your conversations with him earlier today had left you with an excited buzz - you didn’t know what it was about this version of Rafe Cameron in London, but you were actually enjoying his company.

You try to push him out of your mind and just enjoy the moment. It’s not like there was anything between you and Rafe, you had just barely began to form a semblance of a potential friendship today, let’s not get carried away. Besides, you live with the boy, accidentally running into him wasn’t going to be much of a challenge.

“Anyone want anything from the bar?” you shout over the music to your friends.

“Vodka soda with lime please!” Olivia shouts back and you nod, turning to make your way to the counter a few feet away. You place your order and mindlessly tap your fingers on the bar as a figure appears beside you.

“Hey, Y/n right? Flatmates with Olivia, Mills, and the boys?” the girl asks, and you turn, now face to face with Lily.

“Uh yeah, hey,” you feign a smile back.

“I’m Lily, nice to meet you,” she smiles genuinely. “I’m friends with all the Westheath bozos you’ve probably been meeting tonight,” she laughs, “Callum and Henry over there are my best mates. They’re on the football team with Rafe and Topper, we were showing them around earlier. My god you guys have been hoarding some cute ones over there in America.”

You chuckle, “glad that Kildare’s presence can at least be of some benefit.”

“So, girl to girl here, what can you tell me about Rafe Cameron? He’s such a hottie isn’t he? Would love to get a taste of that,” she smirks, licking her lips.

“Umm I don’t really have much to tell,” you say, unsure of how to navigate this conversation. You could tell her what you thought you knew of Outer Banks Rafe - he’s a rich, party-boy player. But after today, that no longer felt right. You didn’t want to say or presume anything about him at all actually, it felt wrong to talk about him like that. God, what the hell was wrong with you? You spend a few hours with the boy and you already have a soft spot for him? You needed to get a grip. “Our families know each other but we don’t really hang out at home. He’s uh- he’s cool though,” you decide as a sufficient response.

“Any girl friend?” she asks, sliding cash over to the bartender as she orders a shot.

“Rafe’s not really the ‘girlfriend-type’,” you answer, bartender sliding you the drinks you ordered and Lily her’s.

“Well then cheers to that,” she grins, clinking her shot glass to your drink before she downs it, waving a quick goodbye. You watch as she makes her way back to Rafe and their group, adorning a flirty smile. You feel sick to your stomach. You wanted to hate her, you did. But you couldn’t. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just confident, outgoing, and not afraid to go after what she wanted. There was nothing for you to be angry about, who was stopping you from doing the same?

But in the back of your mind you decided you could never go after Rafe like that. He would never be interested in you in that way, you were sure of it. You had a hard time believing your friends when they hyped you up, so you definitely weren’t going to believe for a single second that a boy you thought was cool could possibly look at you in the same way. Besides, the mere idea of being rejected by Rafe Cameron, and then having to continue living with him and eventually go back to the Outer Banks for everyone to find out you had been rejected by the kook prince, was so mortifying that the very thought made you want to crawl into a hole. So you promise yourself, right then and there, that you won’t let yourself get hurt like that. You could hang out with Rafe, get to know him, become friends even, but under no circumstances could you be caught wearing your heart on your sleeve. You couldn’t disarm yourself like that and give him the upper hand. You needed to look out for yourself first and foremost, preserving the little bit of control you still had over your life.

You walk back over to your friends, slipping Liv her drink as her and Jake dance together. Your new friends are all tipsy and in a world of their own, getting lost in the music and their movements.

“Dance with me,” you turn to Liam who’s right beside you.

“I said if you ask nicely,” he admonishes sarcastically, to which you roll your eyes.

“I’m not gonna beg Liam. You wanna dance or not?”

“Sheesh, Lily Colts got your panties in a twist like that?”

“Not. At. All.” You confidently stare into his eyes, sipping your drink. It’s no use, Liam knows you all too well by now, and you curse yourself for the way in which this boy is able to see right through all the walls you put up. You may think these walls are made of brick, but to Liam they’re glass.

He just laughs at you, shaking his head in amusement. He grabs your free hand and pulls you closer to him, your bodies now pressed together. He takes your hand and rests it on the back of his neck, his finding their way to your hips. He plants his leg in between yours and soon you guys are lost in the rhythm. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every second. He spins you around and you lightly grind your ass against him.

“Damn Y/n, I didn’t know you move like that,” he jokes, as you face forward again. He leans in, his hand on the small of your back, and you feel his breath right against your ear, “he’s looking by the way.” Your breath hitches, but you know better than to turn around. Liam is already one step ahead of you, instinctively twirling you again so you can quickly catch a glimpse of Rafe’s eyes on yours without it being obvious. “Told you he’d be jealous,” he smirks down at you triumphantly.

“Shut up,” you reply, the slightest smile tugging at your lips as your sweaty bodies continue to move to the music.

—-

“Aw flatmate bonding you guysss,” Olivia gushes, as you all sit together at a booth. She had forced you all out of your beds this morning to get breakfast together. Despite being hungover and groggy, you all reluctantly agreed. “Mimosas anyone?” she jokes.

“If I so much as smell any alcohol I think I’ll vomit,” Topper groans.

“Aw, what’s the matter, can’t handle your liquor Tops?” Millie asks, quirking her head to the side.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Could ask you the same question. My room is right next to the bathroom, don’t think I didn’t hear your retching last night,” he snaps back, to which Millie turns bright red and soon you’re all hunched over in laughter.

“I think a mimosa would make me yak right now too, to be fair. Coffees all around!” Olivia asserts.

You’re seated across from Rafe as you both scan your menus, your eyes immediately fixing in on the pancakes. The waiter comes by to take all your orders and you can’t help but blush a little when Rafe orders pancakes and you have to follow with a “same for me.” Such a silly, meaningless thing, I mean everyone likes pancakes. But being the only one to have the same exact order as Rafe leaves you feeling embarrassed, for no good reason all the same. You all begin to scarf down your food as soon as it arrives, thankful to have something to soak up the alcohol in your stomachs, as you share stories and laugh about last night’s drunken antics.

“So how is it that we’re all flatmates and yet I only have Topper’s contact. Come on, add ‘em in,” Rafe says, sliding his unlocked phone to the middle of the table.

“Wait I want snapchats too. Oooh! And instagram!” Olivia pipes, whipping out her phone as well.

“I expect no booty calls Cameron. This is strictly business,” Millie jokes, typing in her and Olivia’s numbers before passing his phone to you.

“Am I allowed a booty call?” Topper smirks, extending his phone as well.

“I wouldn’t push your luck Thornton,” she smirks back and he pouts in response. You finish typing your name and number into Rafe’s phone and hand it back to him, skin briefly making contact once again. Even though you had known Rafe all your life, somehow you two never had a reason to exchange numbers, only following each other on Instagram which he never posted on anyways.

“Alright everyone, pull up your snapchat codes, I wanna make a group,” Olivia says and everyone obliges, arms crossing every which way as you all add each other. “What should we name our group chat? Ooo can we do a ship name of our schools - like Kilheath or Westare?”

“I like Kilheath,” Topper chimes in.

“Yeah I bet you do you psychopath. Sounds like the name of a bad horror movie,” Rafe laughs.

“Oooo there’s five of us, we could be the Spice Girls,” Millie beams.

“No.” Topper immediately shuts her down.

“What about ‘American Boys and Spice Girls.’ You know, like the Kanye West song,” you add.

“Ehh, we’re getting closer, but not quite there,” Rafe teases you and you playfully kick him under the table. “I’m hearing a lot of opinions and not a lot of contributions,” you cross your arms and raise your brows.

“Hey hey hey, I’m a critic, not a chef L/n,” he lifts his hands in surrender.

“Ooo I got it! We can call it the ‘Royal fam,’ like the royal family,” Olivia suggests, finally getting approval from the whole group. Breakfast is soon over and you all return to your rooms, eager to nap away the remainder of your hangovers. You lay in your bed and stare at the newly formed snapchat group on your phone. Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 appears on top and you scroll down, looking at Rafe’s username and bitmoji on your screen. You laugh at the fact that even his bitmoji wears a backwards cap. It was weird, having him in your phone like this. You had known this boy your whole life, but you two had always operated in separate spheres. And here he was, in your Snapchat, a glimpse into the life of Rafe, of which you only ever got a birds eye view of back home. It almost felt like you were trespassing somewhere you didn’t belong, having access to him like this. You sigh and lock your phone. Rafe Cameron really isn’t all that bad.

—

The next few days fly by fast as you become acclimated to Westheath. You and the rest of the Kildare kids attend an orientation with Westheath’s exchange advisor, spending the whole time with your little trio: you, Rafe, and Topper. When you had first arrived abroad, you were deadset on forging your own path in London and steering clear of everyone else from OBX. But hanging out with Rafe and Topper made you all but forget. It was fun and easy hanging out with them, in fact, counterintuitively, they were helping you forget all about the Outer Banks, just as you had hoped to do. Your conversations centered around your interests, your new lives, on random jokes and made up bits. It was almost as if there was a mutual unspoken agreement between you, them also trying to escape and forget their lives in OBX.

Pretty soon classes began, and you were learning a new schedule and adapting to British schooling. Your evenings were spent singing and dancing in the kitchen as you, Liv, and Millie simultaneously cooked your dinners, getting pints at the pub around the corner with your Westheath friends, and playing card games at the kitchen table with Rafe and Topper, the smack talk between you three flowing strong. There’d be short moments where you’d find yourself alone with Rafe - he’d explain to you whatever Premier League team was playing that day, you’d show him how the coffee machine works, and the occasional passing comments of “so when are we finally starting Game of Thrones, Cameron?” “I’m ready whenever you are, L/n.”

—

It was a Wednesday night, and you were curled up in your fluffy gray blanket watching Gilmore Girls in bed. You found the show comforting and familiar, the small town of Stars Hallow reminding you of what you wished your life in the Outer Banks could be like. Instead it was more like the cold and pretentious atmosphere of Chilton and the older Gilmores’ Hartford life. Your phone buzzes, and you pick it up lazily to check, suddenly freezing at the notification on your screen.

Snapchat: Rafe Cameron

You had opened a few snapchats from the boy over the past few days, but they were always random ones he would send to the group chat. This one was just for you. You gulp and put your phone down, not wanting to open it too fast. A few minutes go by and you realize you haven’t paid an ounce of attention to the show on your screen, even though you’re staring right at it. Fuck it. You open your phone and tap on the unread snap.

When are we watching Game of Thrones L/n the snapchat says, a picture of his laptop on his bed and the HBO Max home page open, the series featured in the corner of the screen.

You snap back a picture of your blanket and the laptop playing Gilmore Girls in front of you: ready whenever you are Cameron.

Almost immediately you get a response back.

Rafe Cameron: wait are you home rn? His message is accompanied by a random picture of his room, a view you let your eyes linger on until the message expires. Another peak into Rafe Cameron’s world.

Y/n: Yep! You send a blurry selfie of you wrapped in your blanket.

Rafe Cameron: be over in 5

You leave that last message on open and your heart starts to race. Just breathe Y/n, breathe, you keep telling yourself. It doesn’t have to be a big deal if you don’t make it out to be. It’s just a show. Just a show. And besides, you guys are friends now, right? You sit up in your bed and grab your pillow, shifting over to sit horizontally on your mattress. That seems more casual to you, more ‘just a couple friends watching a show together at a comfortable distance’ and less ‘sitting right on top of each other Netflix and chill’. You gulp down some water to ease your dry throat when you hear a gentle knock.

“Come in!” you call out, and now Rafe Cameron is in your room, eyes absorbing all the details that are so you. The posters on one wall, film camera photos on another. The string lights which wrap around your room and give it a warm glow. The plants, the subtle scent of vanilla. The bag you always carried with you, hanging off the side of your chair. He almost felt like he was intruding, like he was getting an intimate glimpse of something that was for your eyes only.

“Whats up,” he says, holding his laptop and closing the door behind him.

“Ready to finally start the show,” you laugh, “it’s about damn time.”

“Hey, I’ve been ready, it’s you who’s been taking your sweet time.”

“Is that so?” you ask sarcastically and a smile forms on his face.

“What are you doing over there? Who sits like that on their bed?” he asks, now coming over and taking a seat on your mattress facing vertically, propping your other pillow behind his back. “Can’t even stretch out your legs or anything,” he continues, patting the spot on the bed next to him, signaling for you to come over.

“I don’t know, I think it’s comfy,” you lie as you crawl over to him, your first line of defense already shot down.

“Weirdo,” he chuckles to which you nudge him in the side with your elbow. “If Topper’s wrong about this I’m gonna give him so much shit,” he says.

“Topper does have a lot of questionable opinions,” you laugh, “but I have a good feeling about this one.

—

One episode turned into two turned into three, you and Rafe instantly hooked. The nerves you had felt earlier at sitting so close next to this boy in your bed had all but dissipated, you quickly acclimating to the space he took up next to you. Even though by now all your previous misconceptions about Rafe had disappeared, replaced with the boy you had come to know over the past week, there was a small part of you that was still waiting to see if he’d try to pull something on you, like the Rafe you imagined back home surely would. Of course he didn’t, watching and discussing the show with you, making you feel as comfortable as if you two had been friends for years. You almost felt bad for having had doubted him in the first place.

When the third episode ended and you two got into a long post-episode discussion, you hardly noticed when the conversation began to digress. You both started to sink lower and lower down into your pillows, until you were both laying on your backs, staring at the ceiling and lost in exchanges of words and thoughts. The conversation was different this time, more candid and open, as if the shadow of the night was inviting you to divulge thoughts you wouldn’t have shared in the day. He spoke of his strained relationship with his father and you shared the silly drama that had caused a riff between you and your former friends back home. He showed you pictures of his dog and you showed him the video you had been working on all summer long in OBX, not having anyone to hang out with before you left for London. He talked about how he felt so disconnected from almost everyone on that island, and you nodded, understanding all too well. The conversation continued to ebb and flow, the occasional funny video or meme pulling you two into fits of laughter before seamlessly delving into another vulnerable train of thought. You both had your Spotify accounts open now, taking turns sharing your favorite songs. You put on a playlist you had made over the summer, full of songs that made you feel at peace.

“This puts you at ease huh,” he says.

You turn your head to look at him, “how could you tell?”

“I don’t know. I guess just the way your whole body relaxed the second you pressed play,” he replies.

“Yeah,” you say turning your head back toward the ceiling. “I know it sounds cheesy, but I feel like these songs are speaking to my soul or something,” you whisper.

“Yeah I get that… I have those too,” he whispers back. Neither of you realize it’s already 5 am and neither of you notice as your eyes both get heavy and sleep washes over you, playlist in the background like a lullaby. And at some point during your deep sleep, Rafe’s arm has found itself unconsciously wrapped around you.

---

Part 4

a/n: lemme know what you think!(:

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #obx #rafe outer banks #outer banks #rafe cameron x you

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illumilu · 4 years

Text

there’s only one bed” - illumi zoldyck x reader

a/n: a very stereotypical cliche for fanfics, but, yk what? cringe makes the world go round. so here, have my drabbling of what would happen if you were to spend an unwanted night in the same hotel bed as the adultrio. i feel like i may have made this way too long again, but who cares?? this time it’s with illumi! aka loml ...

summary: after a lengthy car trip, you arrive at the hotel with illumi, but to your horror (wink wink), there’s only one bed. including: you dreaming abt him when he’s literally right in front of you (embarrassing). this is part two of a three-part series, with the adultrio. hisoka is already written and chrollo will be coming soon!

warnings: no particular trigger warnings, lowercase intended, a lot of fluff! and cuddling! only on your part though, since illumi is basically awkwardness personified... no nsfw <3

illumi zoldyck:

- the trip to the hotel had taken 6 hours. 6 hours in which you had fallen asleep multiple times, cramped your legs, somehow made every sleeping position dangerously uncomfortable, cracked your neck and twisted your back, possibly to the point of no return.

- for mr zoldyck, or rather, “illumi”, as he had instructed you to call him, the trip was no problem. his upbringing, which consisted of mainly torture, included staying awake for as long as a fortnight at a time. 6 hours may as well have been a few minutes.

- “the silent son of the zoldycks” was his reputational nickname, or, rather, “lifeless koi fish”, as your friend, hisoka, enjoyed calling him. either way, illumi was not going to let a car ride tire him.

- when you had first met him, he had scared you. a lot. the entire “trained dangerous traumatised assassin” storyline was one that felt like a threat. you were undoubtedly taking a risk by working with him, but it was one you were willing to; it may have been twisted, but murder was your forte, and you were searching for a partner.

- over time, you had grown to be less intimidated by him.

- you were now colleagues with him, working on a new assassination.

- shockingly, planning murder took time, and who better to plan it with than the assassin himself? you had spent the past day on a “business trip”, paid for by illumi’s grandfather, where you sized up the area and familiarised yourself with yorknew.

- all for the big night.

- tonight was the day before the murder of the ten dons.

- illumi and kalluto would carry out the murder, while you made sure everything went smoothly, via a small mic attached to his clothes. the entire operation was based on trust, and would therefore be executed like clockwork.

- you had taken the necessary mental images and kept the targets in mind; all that was left was a night at a pre-booked hotel and then it would be go-time.

- you had assumed that the hotel would be high-class, with doormen, perhaps some marble flooring and pillars - it was the zoldycks who were paying, after all, and you knew they had money to spare.

- “we’re here.” illumi stated blankly, face reflecting in the window. admittedly, he did look a little bit like a koi fish.

- you nudged past him to look out of the window, leaning over to get a good view.

- oh.

- it seemed you had made quite the overestimation. it was a simple, plain building with a few stories. no doormen or extravagance could be sighted.

- you supposed keeping a low profile was important, but the depressing accommodation was somehow making you wearier.

- the two of you didn’t exchange any conversation on the way up to your room, but you were used to that.

- you and illumi had met around 5 months ago, and most of it had been comfortable silence. you hadn’t expected it to be like that - in all honesty, you had expected him to kill you - but illumi seemed... calm around you.

- it was probably because you shared such an odd passion with him; the logistics of murder. you assumed it gave him a chance to loosen his harsh demeanour and enjoy himself. the both of you had worked on multiple murders together, focusing on theory and planning, but this was a huge assassination. nevertheless, you knew he could pull it off; illumi was smart, you had to give him that.

- finally, you arrived at your hotel room, sighing from the lengthy stairway winding up to your unnecessarily high room. you assumed it was for safety purposes, but for god’s sake; why did safety have to be so enervating?

- illumi pushed the door open, and you walked in with him. finally, you could catch some rest.

- except, you couldn’t.

- a singular bed placed in the middle of the room.

- “why.” you thought to yourself tiredly.

- you stood there silently, waiting for him to say something.

- then, you remembered that he was illumi. he obviously wouldn’t see anything wrong with the situation.

- the bastard.

- it didn’t help that he gave you no visible reaction when you stared at him with your face scrunched up expectantly, as if to ask what his plan was.

- “is there a problem, y/n?” illumi asked, his tone flat as usual.

- you took a deep, worn out breath, clearing your throat.

- after a bit, you shook your head. this was strictly professional. illumi wouldn’t do anything, because he was illumi. nothing would happen.this was an important night, where rest and a clear mind were essential. blame it on the fatigue, and nothing else. you were just exhausted. there was nothing else to it. nothing.

- “no. i’m just a little tired.” you dismissed.

- a silence skimmed past.

- “my grandfather... he often tends to be absentminded. occasionally, he forgets to do certain things, or plan them correctly, i suppose. you could say this is a prime example of such.”

- “zeno forgot another goddamn bed, hm?” you laughed nervously.

- illumi stared at you once again, blinking a few times, in a methodical manner, face neutral and robotic. you smiled awkwardly and remembered that he was not one to laugh at jokes. or anything, for that matter.

- you wondered if he laughed at bloodshed. or maybe hisoka.

- “i’m going to... go to set up my stuff now.”

- turning your back to illumi, you winced at the uncomfortable air. even after all your time with him, you never learnt to stop trying to lighten the mood. the mood was literally just always unnatural, in some way. that was another one of illumi’s specialties.

- after some time, in which you had finalized tomorrow's plan and each changed into comfortable clothes, you watched illumi tie his hair up from across the room.

- his hair had always fascinated you.

- you had always wanted to touch it. honestly, even when you had first met him, apart from his magnetic eyes, you had been drawn to his hair. you imagined it felt like silk sheets, caressing over one’s hands as smoothly as honey. you were glad he grew it out; in fact, upon seeing his teenage photos, you had laughed so hard you ended up getting a nosebleed from hitting your face. illumi had been left in confusion for a while.

- you realized how random you sounded. why were you reminiscing so much?

- shaking yourself back to your senses, you admired as he artfully twisted his hair into a loose bun, strands of hair cupping his elegant, pale face.

- what a beautiful koi fish.

- most people couldn’t compute that illumi had true, human feelings. after all, it would be hard to believe a man like him felt anything. but, of course, he did, unhealthily so. he channeled all his trauma and hurt into his villainy, and received happiness from his villainy, anger from his villainy and occasionally fear from his villainy. however, there was one emotion he could never grasp. he hated himself for it, but soon realised he could manipulate his hatred into villainy, too.

- illumi was a man who could manipulate anyone or anything he wished.

- except himself.

- internally, he had always felt at a loss whenever he confronted his emotions. but, after he had met you, something had changed. as he caught you staring at his hair through the hotel mirror, he couldn’t help but feel something small stir inside of his stomach. not evil, not happiness, not hatred, not anger. perhaps, friendship?

- this tinge of new emotion inside of him initially made him feel uneasy, but that worry morphed into giddiness, a childish high buzzing somewhere in his core.

- eventually, he stood up to face you and suggested going to sleep. you checked the time on the wall clock. 8 in the evening. well, illumi had always been particular. you agreed that rest was essential for tomorrow.

- you hesitantly took the left side, and, upon seeing your choice, illumi followed to lie on the right.

- after a few minutes, you looked back at him, noticing illumi fell asleep abnormally quickly. you furrowed your brow quizzically at the rock-like manner he was in. frankly, he looked like a plank when he slept. you almost laughed, but held it in for his sake.

- he had a very specific sleep schedule, as did the other zoldycks. he could go to sleep immediately at his own command, and stayed perfectly still as he did so. he woke up at 5 in the morning every single day, without fail, almost like he had some sort of alarm clock planted in his body.

- looking at him lying there like a block, you smiled softly. illumi was quite the conundrum to you. you often speculated whether he ever got what he deserved; love, affection, anything really. you knew about his past from when he had told you nonchalantly, within a few weeks of your acquaintance. you always hoped he’d find someone to love him, but doubted whether people would bother looking beyond his bleak surface, and into his excellent mind. lost in thought, you found yourself getting drowsier. you also fell asleep generally quickly, limbs aching from the stupid car ride.

- the night passed.

- illumi was the first to wake up at 5am, stoic and in the same place he had fallen asleep in. no surprise there.

- but you.

- that was the first thing he saw when his eyes opened.

- he did not expect you to be lying on him lazily, snuggling into his body, arm and leg comfortably wrapped around his side. you were breathing lightly, face burrowing onto the ridge of his chest.

- i suppose you didn’t expect to be there either, which he realized, but the point still remained.

- why were on you his chest.

- “y/n.”

- no answer.

- illumi could have pushed you away; in fact, he could have blown you 983 metres away (his personal record).

- but he didn’t.

- it wasn’t the thought of disturbing your comfort that stopped illumi from hurling you into oblivion. it wasn’t the fact that he explicitly enjoyed it, either. he remembered that the mission was today; if he were to wake you, and you hadn’t slept enough, you wouldn’t be at your upmost performance.

- the murder of the ten dons was his priority, right? yes. it was. there was no doubt about it. that was the only and final reason he wouldn’t wake you. end of discussion.

- so, illumi stayed there, waiting for you to wake up and get off of him. 30 minutes passed, and he watched you for every single one.

- hard as it was to admit, watching you rise and fall in sync with his chest made the spark of emotion in his core grow fervently. what had that foreign feeling been? yesterday, he had settled at friendship, but now he wasn’t so sure.

- you looked so peaceful while you slept. less confusing. he remembered the time you had accidentally complimented his hair when the two of you had first met. he had found that amusing. he remembered the time you got a nosebleed from hitting your face too hard - it was after laughing at his teenage pictures, which perplexed him greatly. he remembered the times you two had sat together, working and theorizing on missions, accidentally meeting eyes or brushing hands. one time, you had dipped one of his pins in ink and scratched his name on some paper “for fun”. you had handed it to him and, for some unknown reason, the scrap was still tucked safely in his wallet. your unrivaled intelligence, your idiotic sense of humour, your smile, your lack of common sense, your twinkling eyes that so ironically contrasted his, everything. everything crossed his mind while he lay there.

- illumi found it strange how people remembered the oddest things at the oddest times.

- why did he think of that now, as you were sleeping? even worse, on the day of a meticulously planned assassination. why couldn’t he manipulate his emotions to stop fluctuating around you so much?

- it all frustrated him.

- why had he let you call him by “illumi” so quickly? mr zoldyck would have been fine. and why had he been so lenient with your antics? no one else got to touch his pins. why did he feel like keeping you on his chest forever, and keeping you safe? most importantly, why was he thinking about you so much?

- his contemplation came to a halt when he heard you stir a little in your sleep.

- finally, you’d wake up and he could forget about this entire problem.

- he watched you, expecting you to get up soon.

- you began shuffling around, brushing against his chest, and soon your eyes fluttered open, hazy and glazed over. it almost seemed like you were still in a dream, in some sort of half-sleep.

- “huh?” you whispered quietly, still lying on illumi. you looked up lazily, meeting eyes with him.

- “oh... i get it...” you hummed quietly, falling back onto his chest.

- he furrowed his brows.

- “why are you here?” you hugged him from the side, softly laughing at your ridiculous dream. he tensed up at you embracing him, but soon relaxed after realizing what was going on.

- illumi looked at you, one eyebrow raised. did you... think you were dreaming?

- to be honest, he found it kind of entertaining, the way you were fawning over him. if he let you stay there, he could figure out a lot of things about his newly found emotion. it could be worth it. just not today.

- illumi came back to his senses fairly quickly; you were obviously awake now, so why couldn’t you get off of him already?

- “y/n.”

- “mmm? what? so serious all the damn timeee, illum-”

- “you aren’t dreaming. get off.”

- SHIT

- SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT

- you jolted off him immediately, staring down at illumi zoldyck.

- the real illumi zoldyck.

- oh my god what. what. what. what.

- every nerve in your body began to panic, and, in the stress of trying to find the correct words to say, you just ended up making some sort of incomputable “aaaahhh” noise and jumping off the bed.

- illumi had finally gotten up and was now staring concernedly at you.

- an awkward pause.

- “let me just start by saying i did not-”

- “y/n. we have more pressing priorities for today. i don’t care.”

- illumi zoldyck had lied. even to himself. he did care. and so what if he ignored it until it festered so intensely inside of him he couldn’t do anything but tell you? he cared about you. and he knew it.

- “ok. you’re right. you’re right! illumi. one question. was i like that the whole night?”

- “i don’t know. i woke up at 5 and you were there.”

- you looked at the clock. it was 6am? what had he been doing for an hour? you opened your mouth to ask but closed it soon after. you recalled your thoughts about illumi growing up void of affection, or love, or appreciation.

- some questions were best left unanswered.

- “how long was i... mumbling like that?”

- “a few minutes.”

- you gulped. there were a few things you had to come to terms with. shutting your eyes firmly, you apologised profusely, annoyed at yourself.

- “y/n. i don’t care.” he lied once again.

- “you’re right!” you rambled - “the ten dons are today! it doesn’t matter what i said... none of it matters, we can both just forget it!”

- you sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone.

- “so all we need to do is go over the plan one last time, get kalluto, and then we’ll carry it out, and soon enou-”

- “stop it. you’re wasting time. just go and get ready.”

- you sighed and smiled weakly. on the inside, you were sure your soul had died a little.

- while you left to change, overcome by embarrassment, illumi lingered by the bed for a few seconds. he tried to push down whatever he was currently feeling, but it was no use. the feeling in his core had risen up to his throat, a burst of something waiting to leave his lips.

- for the first time in a while, illumi zoldyck smiled. not at murder, or at power, or fulfillment, or achievement, or even villainy.

- illumi zoldyck had smiled at the thought of you.

- let’s just say illumi had trouble focusing on his mission.

i am honestly so fucking sorry you had to read that whole thing. the way i am literally in love with illumi zoldyck and ended up writing 2857 words bye bye bye i’m so sorry!!! PLZ what?? anyways,, i feel like i heavily underwrote hisoka now, since i did such a prologue thing for this! honestly i feel like this one came out a little boring, im sorry again AAAAA just agh; chrollo should b coming when i have time but i have exams rn so idkkkk hh

either way, likes or reblogs or whatever are super appreciated, but don’t feel forced to or anything! either way, i feel like no one’s gonna see this with my reach LMAOO but anyways thank you for reading, if you made it here! feedback and tips for writing on here are always helpful :)

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not-too-many-eyes · 2 years

Text

Digimon Ghost Game episode 29 thoughts + Fanart under cut cause man do I have thoughts and also the fanart is very spoilerly

Did this in an hour while tired...I just had to draw something...

BUT ANYWAY EPISODE THOUGHTS CAUSE A LOT OF THINGS HAPPENED

-THETISMON EVOLUTION!!! Okay so most people have noticed, including me, that Thetismon is more "mature" or "calm" than Jellymon and that's So Interesting when we compare that to Kiyoshiro who got some good Character Growth in this episode, I love his and Jellymon's relationship...and also he's my favorite so it's really nice to see this.

-Actually Kiyoshiro in general in this episode is really interesting, glad they finally remembered Kiyoshiro isn't a coward all the time, even excluding integer overload moments, like at the start and end, which actually on Integer overload, it's interesting to note it seems like he momentarily forgets what he was doing, I think this happens during most integer overload moments but he does remember vaguely later on.

You know how sometimes when you go through something REALLY STRESSING you just, forget about it until something reminds you of it, it feels like that, it feels like Kiyoshiro fainted, adrenaline kicked in, then he realized a child is here and he's the only one who can do anything and just all panic thoughts got shoved to the side and then All The Panic Just Kicked In At Once.

Like previously in the episode and during the Toropiamon fight, that wasn't Integer Kiyoshiro, that was a very scared and panicked Kiyoshiro trying to keep up a brave face so he could actually Do Something, To Be The Person He Wants To Be, and I think this just makes more sense with what we've seen, especially in this episode with the "Genius" hero thing

And on the Genius thing....do you guys remember that Kiyoshiro graduated from American Graduate School and he's 14? I Do, We really don't know why Kiyoshiro is...yknow, a student at a Japanese School when he's already graduated and all that, and I know that Jellymon said it was because he read a bunch of manga and wanted to experience that (Which is...really sad when you think about it) so I'm just...70% sure there's more than that.

And I'm sure it's connected to the bandages in some way, we got some bandage teasing in this episode and I'm just waiting for those to finally get off his hand, Jellymon says he puts them on for said manga reasons, but I just feel like there's some sort of tragic backstory "Why Kiyoshiro Acts the Way He Acts" connected to it and the school situation and I Am Just Waiting, that hand has gotten way too much hinting at for it to not be important, the school not so much, but I just feel like there's some connection here, this is the series willing to threaten to eat the heads of these children, and also poison them terribly, and maybe freeze them to death, I would not be surprised if Kiyoshiro has some sort of trauma that he just, repressed really badly, I've been there, this makes perfect sense to me, still not sure what his hand is, but I'm just saying if his hand just doesn't exist and is made of data, or has a Digital hazard on it, I'll scream.

Though I would like to mention this caused me to make a crack theory/AU where Kiyoshiro is actually an amnesiac Lucemon that whoever Digimon God is here, turned human, I have only circumstantial evidence for this and it's super sparse, but I will die on this stupid hill. I will make art for this, the pure comedic potential of Digital Lucifer being this cowardly 14 year old who's being bullied by a sentient jellyfish is worth it.

-I actually don't have much thoughts about the digimon of the week, I like the story, it was tense, I liked the child, seeing Herrismon was nice. THE FACT JELLYMON IS ON THE GODDAMN NEWS FEELS EXTREAMLY IMPORTANT, Uh, I just like Kiyoshiro and Jellymon A Lot.

#digimon #digimon fanart #digimon ghost game #ghost game spoilers #ghost game #jellymon #kiyoshiro higashimitarai

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morganaspendragonss · 4 years

Text

tell me where it hurts

Carlos stands as Owen and Gwyn leave, heading over to the bed and laying a tentative hand on the railing. TK smiles dopily up at him, eyes halfway to closed, and Carlos has to grin at the sight.

“Only you could make a hospital gown look cute."

tk and carlos, sharing a quiet moment

ao3 | 1.4k | 2.08

Carlos stands as Owen and Gwyn leave, heading over to the bed and laying a tentative hand on the railing. TK smiles dopily up at him, eyes halfway to closed, and Carlos has to grin at the sight.

“Only you could make a hospital gown look cute,” he says, shaking his head. TK’s smile widens, and he lazily reaches out, lacing their fingers together.

“You think I’m cute?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Carlos huffs a laugh, glancing down to their joined hands before meeting TK’s eyes again. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “I should head out too,” he says softly. “You need to rest.”

Carlos tries to pull away, but TK frowns and holds on tighter. “What do you mean?” he asks, pouting.

“You said your head was hurting,” Carlos replies, “and you practically kicked your parents out. I figured you’d want some peace and quiet.”

TK shakes his head, though it’s more just a gentle roll on the pillow. “From them, yeah,” he says. “I want you here. That is...if that’s okay?”

He bites his lip, looking at Carlos anxiously, and Carlos’s heart aches for the hundredth time that day. He can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be; god knows he won’t be able to sleep at home, knowing TK is laid up in hospital and not by his side.

“Of course it is.” He kisses TK’s head, mindful of his wound, and goes to grab the chair, but once again TK pulls him back. Carlos frowns, only for his eyes to widen as TK awkwardly shifts to the right and stares pointedly at the space next to him. “No.”

“Carlos,” TK whines, pulling out the puppy dog eyes - which Carlos will not fall for again. Not tonight, anyway.

“TK,” he mimics. “That bed is barely big enough for you, there’s no way -”

“Carlos, get your damn ass up here or I’m dragging you up.”

Carlos manages to hold firm for a few seconds more, but so does TK, and he knows there’s no way he’s winning this one. The only sensible thing to do is to comply, because TK has that look in his eye that lets him know he will attempt to drag Carlos up given half the chance, and he could really do without his boyfriend causing himself further harm. He heaves an exaggerated sigh, then gingerly sits on the edge on the bed, swinging his legs up and laying back slowly. He was right - there really isn’t enough room, and it’s a little awkward, but they make it work.

TK smiles at him, their faces barely an inch apart. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Carlos reaches out, stroking TK’s cheek with the back of his hand. TK’s eyes flutter shut, and Carlos is content to watch him for a while, feeling his own eyelids grow heavy as the day catches up to him. He’s on the verge of drifting off when TK speaks again, voice slurred with exhaustion.

“Thank you for rescuing us.”

“Always. Though, try not to make a habit of needing it,” he jokes.

TK’s eyes crack open, bright with mirth. “I’ll try,” he laughs, then winces, letting out a pained grunt.

Carlos immediately sobers, searching his boyfriend’s face. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” TK says. “It hurts, but I can handle it.”

Carlos sighs, pulling back slightly to get a proper look at him. “I don’t just mean your head, Ty,” he says. “I mean, are you okay? Your mom said you shut down earlier.”

TK’s smile drops and, for the first time since his parents left, he turns his head away from Carlos, gaze going blankly to the ceiling. His hand - the one not still held in Carlos’s - picks at the thin hospital sheets, rubbing the material between his thumb and forefinger. Carlos keeps watching him, knowing that TK will talk in his own time.

“It was just a lot,” he starts eventually, sighing heavily. “You know, I really thought that things were finally working out - that we actually had a second chance at being a real family. I mean, I can’t really remember a time in my life when my parents weren’t arguing, and I’ve spent years hoping and praying for an opportunity just like this one. I guess I got too attached to the idea, and blinded myself to everything else that was going on because when I got home and saw those boxes…”

He breaks off and squeezes his eyes shut, a lone tear rolling down his cheek. Carlos aches to brush it away, but he holds back, sensing that the touch wouldn’t be welcome.

“When I saw the boxes,” TK continues, clearing his throat, “it felt like I was seven years old all over again. My family was imploding and no-one had given me any warning or told me why, and I was just there, watching it all happen. And then Mom told me about the baby, and Enzo, and I just - I just couldn’t process it. Like, at all. I know it’s stupid and - and childish to still be clinging onto this...fantasy of my family, but I just. I really wanted this to work, you know?”

TK’s voice cracks, and he looks back to Carlos, unshed tears glinting under the hospital fluorescents. This time, Carlos does reach out, gently running his thumb under TK’s eye, and he leans in to press a kiss to his brow, just underneath the gauze.

“It’s not stupid,” he murmurs, smiling sadly. “It’s okay to be upset over this, Ty, you know that, right?”

TK shrugs. “I guess.” He breathes out shakily, blinking hard. “I will miss her. But after today… I mean, I was joking when I compared them to that couple, but there’s nothing like getting kidnapped at gunpoint and held hostage to put things in perspective. Not even getting shot.”

Carlos laughs despite himself - despite the reminder of just how close he came to losing TK yet again. He shakes his head and kisses him again, lightly swatting at his hip. “Do me a favour and try not to test that theory, babe.”

“No promises.” TK grins impishly before it softens into something gentler, and it’s his turn to reach out to Carlos. His hand brushes his cheek, travelling downwards along his arm to wrap around his wrist, right on Carlos’s pulse point. “Speaking of parents, how are things with your dad?” he asks. “Is the investigation still going on?”

Carlos shrugs. “Yeah, but considering that I was right about everything, I don’t think they can build much of a case against me. Hopefully, I’ll be back soon.”

“Good,” TK says, his face flooding with a pride that warms Carlos’s chest. “If they don’t, I guess I’ll have to march down there myself and let them all know what idiots they’re being.”

Carlos raises an amused eyebrow. “Not that I wouldn’t appreciate it,” he replies, “but if you think you’re marching anywhere anytime soon, you’re very much mistaken. They might be releasing you from this bed in the morning, but I intend to keep you in mine for at least the next week.”

TK grins. “Is that a promise, Officer Reyes?”

“It’s a threat,” he corrects, but he can’t keep from grinning back, a comfortable silence falling between them. TK shuffles down in the bed to rest his head carefully against Carlos’s shoulder, and Carlos lays his arm across his chest, pressing a kiss into his hair.

“He wants to meet you, by the way,” he murmurs. “My dad.”

TK shifts against him, his head tilting upwards slightly. “You told?”

“He told me, actually,” Carlos says, huffing a small laugh. “Apparently he’s known about us since the market.”

“And…” TK’s fingers fiddle with his, the silence drawing out a few seconds longer. “Are you okay with that?”

“It was a surprise,” he admits. “But I’m glad it’s all out in the open now. I didn’t realise how much it was weighing on me until now.”

TK hums, squeezing Carlos’s hand once before settling into his side again. “I’m glad,” he says, voice muffled from sleep.

“Me too.” Carlos kisses TK’s head. “Get some rest, Ty.”

He doesn’t need to say it twice; TK is dead to the world not five minutes later, snoring gently. Carlos stifles a laugh, and eases himself into a more comfortable position, his own eyes drifting closed.

That’s how the nurses find them a few hours later, entwined around each other, and at peace.

190 notes · View notes

starbuckie · 4 years

Text

𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

challenge: time travel challenge by @justagirlinafandomworld

prompt: “we’re divorced?”

pairing: sirius black x reader

words: 5.7k words

warnings: FOURTH WALL BREAK!!(sorry im very excited about that), lots of angst, almost smut(hehe), sirius lowkey has a breeding kink, sirius is an asshole for a bit, the smallest bit of fluff, fix-it, and the same time travel theory as back to the future

summary: an unnatural occurrence lets a woman go back in time to try and change everything she’s known for the past twenty years.

a/n: wow, i normally don’t write for harry potter so this was a nice change. anyways, this is for yvette’s time travel writing challenge, and everybody say HAPPY BIRTHDAY YVETTE! i’m so sorry this is late, it got deleted and i needed to re-edit, but i truly appreciate your friendship and your lovely, amazingly beautiful self, and I’m so so glad that we became friends :) this fic is not beta-read at all, so if you see any mistakes tell me, but otherwise i really hope you enjoy this fic<3

main masterlist || harry potter masterlist

It still wasn’t over. After all she had lost, more specifically everyone she had lost, and the shitty cycle that she had to call her life, it still wasn’t over. The people she had watched the life drain from, the screams of those suffering from the loss caused by the Dark Lord, and yet life still hadn’t had its fill of torturing Y/N. Grimmauld Place felt empty without the kids, without the Weasleys, but they had gone back to their home and soon enough she would have to as well. Harry had gone back to Hogwarts with Dumbledore, though she’d argued to hold onto him just a bit longer after-

After Sirius had died.

Time had passed, maybe two or three weeks, but no matter what the woman couldn’t bring herself to get out of Sirius’ old bedroom, simply staring at the ceiling with her tears at bay. Her and Sirius had been a complicated thing, to say the least, a topic nobody had brought up since 1983, when she had banned it. Not as if there was much to talk about after the divorce and Sirius going to Azkaban. After Lily and James had died, after she had fought with Dumbledore for custody of Harry, after she had become a professor at Beauxbatons and moved to France without a second thought. Sirius had been locked up after he’d hurt her in the worst possible way, and Y/N’s heartbroken soul found no other reason to return to England.

But, she pushed those bad memories to the back of her mind. It seemed so trivial, looking back on it. Not the broken house, of course, that had been his own mistake. But Y/N had many regrets, all of them seeming to revolve around the mischievous black-haired man who she had fallen in love with as a teen. The night it went down, the night their relationship had fractured at the seams and fallen down, was her greatest one however. It had been so stupid, so, so stupid, but they’d both gotten caught up in the moment, and Y/N had let him die without knowing how much she was sorry for that night that they let their fears consume them.

The cries that she had tried so hard to contain finally broke free from the restraints of her heart. “I’m so sorry, Siri,” she whispered into the air, “I couldn’t save you this time.” As the hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks, Y/N shuffled across the room, letting her feet drag her to the old Black family room, the dark green walls embracing her rainy emotions.

A little gasp escaped her lips as she looked at the portraits among the wall. The Black family tree was faded along the age-old wall, but what she was really looking for was the burned out image of her raven-haired love. There, right next to Regulus, was a black spot, scorned and scarred by the prestigious family for being a blood traitor. Y/N smiled and traced the burn with her finger, remembering their fourth year when she had accompanied him home for the holidays so he wouldn’t be completely alone in the hellhole he had to call his house. Sirius had snuck them up to this room and spent the night talking in hushed whispers sworn secrets. “I’ll be yours forever, Siri, and I’m sorry for fighting with you. I wish-” she sniffled, glaring at the spot in the wall as she tried to garble out her words, “I wish, I could go back in time, and just fix it. Just me and you, and that stupid night, with the bloody fight about children because you deserve it all, darling.”

“Ah, I think you can.”

Y/N turned around, her eyes wide with fear. That was not Kreacher’s voice. There stood a younger woman, around nineteen, a scroll of paper and a quill in her hand. There was a whisper of a smirk on her face, brown eyes glittering even in the dimness in the room. “Who the hell are you?” Y/N looked at the door, which was still closed as she left it. She cast her wand out, pointing it at the stranger who did nothing but smile. “How did you get in here? Are you with the Lord?”

“With Voldemort?” The woman simply laughed. “Dude, I’m not with ‘the Lord’,” she added with air quotations. “Also I’m not really even here, so don’t you worry about that. My name’s Malia.”

Malia held her hand out, but Y/N kept her guard up. “You’re American. What brings you here? Are you a muggle?”

“Oh, nope, not a wizard, I’m just the author of this story.” Malia confided. “I’m here to tell you that you can fix this.”

“Fix… what?” Malia just rolled her eyes and sighed, staring up towards the ceiling as she spoke.

“God, did I write you to be hard of hearing now, too? I ought to fix that when I get back.” The woman blankly stared at the strange girl, wondering what the actual fuck she was talking about. “I can give you the chance to go back in time, Y/N. It won’t be for long, it’s really not gonna be interesting for more than two hours at most, but that should be enough time to tell the gang about what’s to come with Voldemort.”

“Like... time travel?” Y/N asked. The only way she knew how to time travel was the time turners. “But all of the ti-”

“Time turners were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve read Harry Potter more times than I’ve said ‘I love you’ to my parents.” Malia smiled. “I’m the author, I make the rules, and my rule is that I’m giving you two hours in 1978 to talk to Sirius so he can fix the emotional fucking mess left behind by J.K. Rowling.”

“Who’s J.K. Rowling?” Malia shuddered at the name.

“A raggedy-ass, transphobic bitch who wrote y’all into existence, but she’s not of importance right now.” She checked the small, rectangular box in her hand, which glowed and provided little light in the darkened room. “Let’s see, it’s currently eleven-forty, so you have until one-forty to find the Marauders and fix this future. It may not be fixed in the books in the future, but if you are able to do it here that’s all that matters.” Malia’s brown eyes were downcast, her bright and loud personality dimming for just a moment before returning to Y/N’s confused gaze once more. “Try not to screw up too much while you’re there, just enough that you defeat the Dark Lord the first time. Tell Sirius all you know and that should be enough for him to fix all the mistakes, but do not under any circumstances let him or anyone else know who you are. I wish you luck, Y/N, it was nice to meet ya in person.”

And with a peace sign in front of her face, she disappeared into a flash of neon pink light.

“Bloody hell! Fix my future? Talk to Sirius? If this even is time travel, then how am I supposed to get there- AH!” Y/N’s body felt like it was turning inside out, her guts being torn from her stomach and back into it again. A delirious giggle arose from her lips in the black void she was pulled into, and a soft chatter could be heard, like voices at the end of a tunnel.

“Blimey, looks like we got ourselves a nutter on school grounds.” Y/N’s arms flailed around, desperately seeking some sort of grounding surface to hold on to when her back hit a rough surface. There was an audible crack somewhere in her body, but she felt so sick that she couldn’t tell where.

“Are you okay, ma’am? You just appeared from the sky and hit the ground.” Warm, brown eyes met Y/N’s, a familiar mess of black curls resting atop of the boy’s head. Large, rounded glasses sat perched on the tip of his nose, and an impish smile, one she used to know so well before he died, met his lips.

“James,” she sighed. The boy stared at her strangely, and only then did she notice the three other boys and girls each behind them. Remus, Peter, Sirius, Lily, Marlene, and Alice.

Sirius.

The sight that met her eyes made her nearly emotional. It had technically been only three weeks since she had seen him, but here was the young boy she had fallen in love with. The one who charmed her with his smart words and witty retorts to her brush-offs, who used to hold her in his arms in the most intimate and gentle ways. His grey eyes sparkled with curiosity, the infamous Marauder mischief swirling within the silvery pools.

Seeing him so young tugged at her heartstrings, and though she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms and never let go, a small, niggling feeling at the back of her head held her back. Was there something wrong?

“You know me?” Oh right, she was currently thirty-five. Looking around she noticed that she was outside the quidditch pitch, and there were other students, staring at her with widened eyes. No one knew she was Y/N L/N, their fellow schoolmate and probably one of the very few of them that survived the Death Eaters attacks. None of them were aware how it ended, or how it was currently going for them back in 1996, and in this time there was the first Wizarding War going on and they had every right to be terrified for their lives.

James now took a more defensive stance, standing tall and holding his wand out. “Who are you?”

She couldn’t give him the answer, instead letting her mouth gape open as she stared at him with wide eyes. Y/N looked across the grounds for the nearest exit, which was down by Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest. It was her only choice at this point, to hide in the dark, creepy space, maybe just until the students went away so she could find Sirius and talk to him alone. It’d be hard to separate him from the boys, but if Lily were occupied with James it sure would be easy.

Her younger, seventh-year self didn’t seem to be in the audience, thank Merlin, and with that knowledge, she got up and ran, ignoring her screaming muscles. That time travel really did a number on her.

As she ran through the crowd, shoving people aside, she heard the students mutter, too much in shock and disarray to stop the crazy, old woman who knew James Potter.

“This is dodgy.”

“Someone ought to tell Dumbledore about this.”

“She kinda looks like Y/N L/N.’

“Don’t insult the poor girl like that, that wonker is ages old.”

“Come back here! Who the bloody hell are you?” Y/N’s heart beat quickly in her chest, threatening to burst out. Only three minutes in the past and it was all going straight to shit. “Stupefy!”

Shit. “No, James, please don’t-“ Her body hit the ground and her eyes closed, the last thing she saw being the pumpkin patch by the hut.

“I see you’re awake now, Ms. L/N.” Dumbledore stood above Y/N in the hospital ward bed, his grey beard dangling in front of her face. Her first instinct was to start blaming him for everything that had happened, starting from Lily and James’ deaths to Sirius’, already opening her mouth to call him an old, senile cow, but then she realized that Harry hadn’t been sent to the Dursleys yet, much less been born yet, so none of it would have an effect on him. Y/N’s second instinct was to question how Dumbledore knew who she was in 1978, but her former Headmaster started to speak before she could do so. “I must admit, it’s very courageous, that stunt you just pulled. I don’t think Ms. Louie will be too happy about that.” Y/N sent him a questioning stare. “Malia, the girl you met earlier. Malia Louie.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore, how did you know it was me?” She was dressed in a white gown that went to her knees, and behind him she could see her blouse and jeans folded and clean. Ah, the Hospital Wing. She had brought the boys here more times than she could count in her years at Hogwarts. “I don’t exactly look as young as I used to.”

“Ah, don’t worry Ms. L/N, you’ve kept your good looks quite nicely, even in your older age.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his wrinkled eyes sparkling with joy. “And speaking of young, if you are still worrying yourself about your younger self, you can put that to a stop. I am aware that you are not able to tell anyone who you are, and time travel is exceptionally dangerous if you are seen by the other version of yourself. I’ve already told the students that you were just a stray witch, misguided in your ways and that you were well taken care of. However, I think that brings us to the question of what your intentions are in the past, Ms. L/N.”

“Headmaster, I don’t think I can tell you about my business here. I’ve already messed up by letting the school see me by letting everyone see me, I don’t know why that girl even sent me here, it’s clear that this was a mistake.” Y/N sat up on the headboard, feeling her eyes fill with tears once again. The tall arches of windows let the sun in the room, and she could see the specks of dust swirling around in the golden light. It had to be close to the end of the year for them, maybe sometime around April or May, near the end of N.E.W.T.s at least. She could imagine that it’d be easy for her to get out of Hogwarts for the day, with all the students studying for the stressful exams in the library, maybe she'd make her way to Hogsmeade and walk around or visit Hagrid under a false name to have some tea. He was always open for a nice cuppa with strangers on any free day he had. “Thank you Headmaster, for your kindness, but I really ought to be going. I-it was nice to see you.”

Y/N started to help herself out of the bed, swinging her feet over to touch the cool stone ground. Bones cracked with pain and fatigue, her muscles stretching sluggishly. Merlin, that she was not expecting that much hurt from the fall, but she should have never underestimated James Potter. No one ever should if they want to keep their good mind and sanity.

Dumbledore handed her her clothes, cracked lips set in a straight line as he nodded solemnly. “I hope you accomplish whatever it is you are here to do, Ms. L/N, but I have no doubt that you will.” With a sly wink, he added, “You were always one of our most ardent and bright students.”

Y/N let herself smile, and with a wave, swiftly brought herself to the door. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

After slipping outside, she ran down the corridors, echoes of her feet ringing lightly behind her. The courtyard proved to be empty and she quickly ducked behind a column and tugged her jeans on hastily, making sure that no professors came walking past. Though the sky proved to be bright and cheerful, a slight breeze carried through, making her fall off balance and fall on the cemented ground.

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re in need of a little help.” Y/N looked up to the speaking figure, one that she both loved and dreaded to see.

She gathered herself quickly, her mind running fast and heart beating out of her chest as she tried to get out. “Yes, I am okay, thank you for asking. I think I’ll just get up and going now, I don’t need to take time out of your day like this-”

“I know who you are, Y/N.”

Y/N came to a full stop, going against her brain that screamed at her to run away. Sirius looked downtrodden, his grey eyes watering despite the small hint of a smirk on his face. Though he was always one for playing around and not taking anything seriously, she knew when it was time to stop pretending and get real. “How’d you know it was me, Sirius?”

“You really don’t look bad for your age, darling.” He offered her a hand to help her up and she took it graciously, eyeing him nearly guiltily and forgetting about her promise to Y/N. But that was useless now, this moment with her first love was much more important. “Also you have the tattoo on your chest. I knew it was you the moment you landed on school grounds.”

She traced his gaze to her left collarbone, where a paw print, just barely visible beneath her low-cut blouse, sat. It was his, or Snuffles’, paw print, and at this point in time they had probably gotten it done about three months before. He had one for her too, a horseshoe for her horse patronus, right on his left side of his chest too. So they’d always be right next to each other’s hearts, as cheesy as it seemed.

But they were dumb, lovesick teenagers, and they acted the part well too. Their love was all-consuming, shagging in under the bleachers at the quidditch pitch and making out under the stars. It was fast, everything was fast, decisions, ideas, classes, all of them under the impression that they had to do everything right then or they’d be dead before they got to actually live. They had dreams of marriage, and a big, big family, obviously so far away from his family so they could never hurt their children’s lives the way they had hurt his.

They were fantasies, Y/N had known that well enough when she and Sirius got divorced, but it was something that eighteen year-old Sirius Black held close to his heart. No matter how shitty his life got, he was always a firm believer in a happy ending. In their happy ending.

“How am I right now?” They now stood over the Black Lake, staring into the glittering depths of the water where some mermaids could be seen sneaking peeks at the handsome boy and the strange lady who had fallen from the sky.

Sirius stared at her questioningly for a moment. “How are you doing right now? I mean, I believe that I should be asking you that ques- oh, Merlin, I’m such a git, you meant your younger self.” Y/N laughed at that, her heart lifting with the goofiness of the old Sirius relieving an ache in her heart that she had had for so long. Not that old (it felt weird to say that) Sirius had been anything less than silly and snarky, but it was never directed towards her. It was nice to have the resemblance of their old relationship back, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. “I suppose that you’re okay. You didn’t see, well, your big moment on the field, but at this point Lily has probably opened her big, fat mouth and told you. N.E.W.T.s are just finishing up, so you’re much more light-hearted than during the study season.”

“I really did have a stick up my arse during exam time, you always told me to loosen up-”

“Y/N, cut out the small talk, I think it’s okay for me to ask how and what is happening.” Sirius cut in.

So she told him. Y/N had always been upfront with people about everything. Or rather, she had learned how to be upfront with people after her and Sirius’ divorce. Without details of the deaths, she explained how she was sent back into the past to fix it in some conceivable way. However, she did tell him about the fall out. Maybe she wanted him to understand her pain, even though it was a younger him, but she had to admit to herself that it was because she just wanted Sirius, in whatever form life gave her to hear out her grievances and apologies.

Since her Sirius was dead before she could.

“We’re divorced?” Sirius looked about ready to break down into tears, almost as if the concept of them breaking up or separating was foreign to him. “What exactly did we fight over, Y/N? That doesn’t seem normal for the two of us.” Sirius asked.

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t a normal predicament for us. either…”

Sirius slammed the door shut, efficiently pinning her against it with his white button up ruffled up, navy tie hanging from his neck loosely. Y/N’s arms were held down tightly against the oak wood, the sensation of the cold door burning into her rather warm skin making her squeal. Her husband’s tongue worked its way through her parted lips, low groans rising from the back of his throat from the way she moaned in tandem with his hips pushing into hers. Legs wrapped around his tapered waist, the pink, floral skirt Y/N wore rising high on her thighs, revealing more of her flesh to the lust-filled man. Both of their giggles echoed off the hallway walls of their small cottage home, just four miles west of their best friends’.

As the twenty year-old man threw his wife unceremoniously on the bed, he shed himself of his shirt and swiftly unbuttoned his slacks, throwing them haphazardly across the room. Merlin, Y/N looked ethereal laying spread out on the bed, panties around her left ankle, swollen lips parted with short puffs of air leaving them. “You just get right down to business, don’t you, Black.”

Crawling over his body, his hot breath hit her neck as he growled against her skin. “Could say the same thing about you, darling.” Sirius’ lips made their way down every inch, every curve, nook, and cranny of Y/N’s body, smoothly slipping her clothes off as he did so. Her sweet gasps filled the bedroom, back arching off the bed to meet his chest. “I’m going to put a baby in you tonight, sweetheart, we’re-”

Y/N sat up straight, her eyebrows trained in confusion at her husband. “What? A baby?”

Sirius’ heart pounded in his chest. “Yes.” He remarked in a clipped tone. “Is that not what you wanted?”

Her mind recalled her words from earlier that day, as she chatted happily with Lily about the news of her pregnancy. “Siri, I said I may one day enjoy having a kid of my own. Not right now, of course, but later. After all, we only got married a few months ago, don’t you think we should hold off a bit on that? We’re twenty years-old, Siri, there’s so many years for that.”

Rage filled Sirius’ blood like a spreading fire. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much about his anger as it was his hurt and fear. Fear that she had realized how fucked up he truly was, fear that she realized what he had known all along- that she deserved better than him. “So you don’t want a baby with me?”

“I never said I didn’t want that, Sirius, I just said that I’m not ready!” Y/N yelled back. At this point both of them stood on opposite sides of the bed, faces hot with tears. “We’re in the middle of a bloody war, people we know, people we love, have lost their lives, and it is not the ideal environment to raise a child, Sirius! Just because James and Lily are ready to have one doesn’t mean that I am too!”

“When will you be ready, Y/N? When will it ever be enough time for you? When will I be enough for you?” The heartbroken girl tried to interject, but her voice was cut off by her husband’s quickly enough. Sirius climbed onto the bed, holding her chin harshly with one hand. “Tell me, did you ever want to be with me in the first place?”

“Yes, Sirius, of course I wanted to be with you.” His heart hurt looking at the love of his life in tears, but even that was able to melt his cold facade. “I love you more than anything in the world.”

“Then fucking prove it, Y/N.” With that declaration, he removed his hand from her face and gathered his clothes, slamming everything in their shared room as Y/N quivered, knees ready to buckle on the spot. “I’m going out, don’t wait up for me.”

As soon as the front door shut, she fell to the ground in tears, the laughter that once filled their home replaced with the sound of her shattered heart.

Y/N had done her best to not tear up during her explanation of the events that had taken that night, but Sirius' eyes watered, refusing to believe the truth. “No. No. I didn’t do that. Y/N, tell me,” he gripped her biceps with trembling hands, “please tell me I didn’t really do that. I can’t believe that I-I, that I-”

“You were drunk, Sirius, I don’t think you truly knew what you were saying at the time.” She sighed, “But people always say that drunken words are just sober thoughts.” Y/N rubbed her arms, just shivering slightly in the Scotland breeze. “You came back two hours later punching the wall and breaking it, and that’s when I knew that we wouldn’t last.”

The raven-haired boy’s head started to shake, even more mortified of the actions that his future self, the man he’d be in just two years' time, had done. “I packed up my things, not that there were many, we’d only moved into the house a month before, left, and I sent the divorce papers a week later. It was probably better that way, you would’ve divorced me if I hadn’t done it first.” Y/N had gotten used to telling her sob story to colleagues at Beauxbatons, to her family, but it felt different with pre-divorce Sirius. Of course, she had never thought she’d be in this citation either, so no one could really blame her for feeling weird. “You signed them easily, and my lawyer made sure that I never had to see you again.” Until Lily and James died.

“Until…” Sirius led on.

“Merlin’s beard, Sirius, you’ve always been able to read my mind. Shouldn’t have doubted it for a second.” He smiled at the sentiment, gesturing for her to continue. “I can’t tell you, Sirius, I hope you can understand that.”

“Why, Y/N, what happens that can be any worse in the future?” Oh dear, Sirius, you really do not want the answer to that question. She needed any way out of this conversation, after all running away was what she did best, and her eyes already searched for several routes to which she could run. Not that Y/N could ever outrun Sirius in his animagus form, but it was nice to have the belief that she could. The boy sensed her distress and grabbed hold of her hand. “You don’t have to tell me, darling, but I have to admit that I am a bit worried, just in the slightest.”

Y/N let herself calm down, squeezing Sirius’ hand and noticing his watch. She had actually given him that watch, gold-plated and dark grey metal, but it wasn’t the beauty of the gift that caught her eye, but rather the actual time on it. One-thirty.

How had that much time gone by so quickly? She was going to be sucked into the black void of time travel again in ten minutes, and that wasn’t nearly enough time to unload nearly twenty years worth of history onto Sirius. No, he would go insane from that much knowledge, which was exactly against what Malia had advised.

“I don’t have enough time to tell you everything that happens in the future, Sirius. But what I am about to tell you is vital, absolutely vital for the good of all of us in the future.” Sirius nodded with a serious sort of smile on his face. “Don’t let Peter be Lily and James’ secret keeper. When the time comes that they move away, I’m not going to tell you where yet, do not under any circumstances let Peter be their secret keeper. I know he’s one of our best friends right now, and do not tell anyone about this, but he’s going to betray us in the worst way possible.”

While Sirius was shocked, he nodded solemnly and ran a hand through his long hair. “I won’t tell anyone, Y/N. Can I fix us, Y/N? I don’t know if you should be letting the key to a happier future rest in my hands.”

“I full heartedly trust that you’ll do some good, whatever the outcome may be. As for fixing us, I hope you can, but depending on what happens we’ll just have to wait and see.” She sighed, “If you want my opinion on it, I think that we both should have waited longer to get married. It was right after James and Lily got married, but we aren’t and never will be them. We both had a lot of growing up to do, so I would take it slowly. Communicate your wants and needs in the relationship and in the end it may not even be us together. But I know you, Siri, don’t let this get in the way of your entire life. The most important part is that you tell James and Lily about Peter.”

She glanced back up the school grounds where students could start to be seen leaving their classes. “You better get back to the castle, Sirius. McGonagall is going to come for your arse and this time the boys aren’t going to be able to cover for you.”

“If they knew where I was, darling, I don’t even think they’d believe me.” Sirius chuckled.

Y/N nodded in agreement and pulled Sirius into a tight hug. “You can do this, sweetheart, and even if you can’t, it will not stop me from loving you any less. Maybe the future wasn’t meant to be changed, but regardless of whether that is true or not, I know that you will try your hardest, Sirius. Just try not to die, okay?”

The boy was still clutching onto her tightly, his tears soaking her rose-colored blouse. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

With one last kiss on the forehead, she smiled at him. “I know you will, Siri.”

Y/N’s arse hit the floor once again, her spine cracking once again. “What’s the year?” She yelled out, reaching for the walls of the black family room.

But it wasn’t there. Upon opening her eyes, she saw James, Lily, and Sirius sitting at a wooden table in her old white cottage. A nice tea set, her grandmother’s as she realized later, sat in the center, along with a large stack of letters. “Y/N, what the bloody hell happened to you, I’ve been worried sick!”

Her red-headed best friend scurried over to her, brushing invisible dirt off her shoulders and pulling her up abruptly. James fixed the glasses on his nose, cleaning them off with his striped jumper. “You look a little disheveled right now, Y/N, what ran you over?”

“You know who she reminds me of right now, Jamie? That crazy witch friend of Dumbledore’s that made her way onto campus back in seventh year.” Lily giggled as she hugged Y/N.

“Merlin’s beard, you’re right!” James walked over to the woman of the hour, ruffling her hair with a smirk on his face. “If you were about twenty years older I’d have no trouble believing you were the same person.”

While Lily and James recalled their memories from the strange woman all those years ago at Hogwarts, Sirius pulled Y/N aside, an arm wrapped around her waist. The warmth radiating from his body was nice, embracing her in a comfort she hadn’t felt in so long.

“I’m going to go ahead and believe that I did something right?” Sirius grabbed her hand, and only then did she notice the coolness of metal sitting on her left ring finger. There sat the single band of gold, a small ruby encased in its plating. She had once joked that diamonds were too overrated, and he went out and got her the most vibrant gem he could find, claiming that it was just like her. But regardless of its shape, size, or type of gem, it was there.

“Yeah, Siri,” Y/N replied with tears in her eyes, “you did good.”

“Oi, Blacks, stop making out and get over here, we got a letter from Minnie!” James yelled, making both wives chuckle. “Harry’s gotten himself in detention for punching Malfoy again.”

“Oh, thank Merlin, the boy deserves a few more good hits.” Sirius laughed.

“McGonagall still talks to us?” Y/N asked in amazement. “You’ve got to get me caught up.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ve got all the time in the world.” Sirius gently placed his lips onto hers, and for once in nearly twenty years, Y/N felt at peace. There were no more hasty warnings of the future, no psychotic old men coming after her family, no young girls rushing in to tell her how to fix her screwed up life. Cracked, pink lips moving against her own, his tongue delving into her mouth, and Y/N knew she was finally off the clock.

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

Cherry Wine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peters new girlfriend isn’t what she seems

WARNING: domestic abuse

Masterlist

Lorina Dodson.

Peters girlfriend of two months now. You and Ned didn’t think they’d last more than a week but they had somehow managed to surpass all expectations.

You tried to be happy for Peter, but you just could my figure out what he saw in her. She was rude, volatile , and had a mean streak to her. It took all your will power not to get down on your knees and beg Peter to break up with her. Not even because you were in love with him, which was Ned’s running theory, but because he wasn’t happy. You weren’t blind to the look he got on his face when she came around. Not to mention that he came back from hanging out with her looking sadder and more worn down than before. Peter didn’t like to talk about his relationship much and you didn’t understand until one night when he came to your room for patching up.

“They got you pretty good tonight, didn’t they?” You chuckled softly as you dabbed hydrogen peroxide on Peters busted lip. He had come to you for repairs before since he lived across the street and you were usually able to joke around about how neat up he had gotten. Tonight, the misty look in his eyes told you he wasn’t in the mood for joking.

“Something like that.” Peter smiled sadly, winching a little when you blew on his cut.

“Sorry.” You spoke softly and looked in his eyes. You could see the redness surrounding his eyelids and put your supplies down. “What happened tonight?”

“I got my confidence shaken pretty badly.” Peter shrugged and refused to meet your eyes.

“Maybe you should tell Lorina about your double life.” You suggested. “I can always patch you up but I can’t exactly kiss it better.”

As much as you disliked his girlfriend, and the fact that he had a girlfriend in the first place, you knew there were some things only a girlfriend could fix. You couldn’t take Peter into your arms and comfort him the way she could. Peter shook his head and looked up at you with tears in his eyes.

“I don’t think I’m where I’m supposed to be.” His voice cracked and you immediately wrapped your arms around him. You held him against your tummy and stroked his hair to soothe him.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“She won’t let me be.” He cried and buried his face in your shirt.

“Lorina?”

“We fight all the time.” He sniffled. “I feel like I can’t grow as long as I’m with her. She’s keeping me in one place and I don’t want to be there anymore.”

“Can’t you just break up with her?” You thought the solution was obvious.

“I tried but,” he shrugged in misery, “she said I was all she had. She started freaking out and saying she-“

“Shhh.” You cut him off when you saw how worked up he was getting. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“That’s not even that half of it.” He whimpered and your face twisted in confusion.

“What do you mean?” You wondered.

“I can’t tell you.” He began to cry again. “I’m sorry.”

You looked out your window, deep in thought as you comforted Peter. Something about his relationship wasn’t right but you didn’t want to push him for information when he was already upset. You let him lay down on your bed and rubbed his back until he fell asleep. Sleep was a stranger to you that night as you laid awake, wondering what Lorina had done to make him that upset.

“Ugh! Peter totally bailed on me again.” Lorina’s voice snapped you out of your daydream of that night with Peter. “How many times he can forget he has a science project due the next day?”

You gave her a fake smile and cursed Peter briefly for leaving you alone with her. You knew he had to run off on an unexpected Spider-Man escapade, but Lorina didn’t know that.

Or need to know.

“Thats Peter for you. You’re gonna have to get used to that.” You told her with false sympathy and began to walk towards your apartment.

“Whatever.” She grumbled and eyed you’re for a moment. “What about you? Do you want to hang out?”

You stopped in your tracks and shut your eyes tightly as she asked exactly what you didn’t want her to ask.

“Oh, that’s okay.” You turned around and gave her a tight smile.

“No, I think we should.” She was blind to your indifference. “Peter wants us to be friends, anyway.”

“Sure. Why not?” You reluctantly agreed and followed her in the opposite direction. She began to describe a fight she got into with a teacher while you half listened. The more time you spent with her, the less you understood what Peter saw in her. When she began to curse out a teacher you always liked, you fully tuned her out. Your attention shifted to a child crying outside of a jewelry store. He was looking around and unattended, giving the impression that he was lost.

“I’ll be right back.” You told Lorina and walked over to the little kid.

“Whatever.” She mumbled, not bothering to look up from her phone as she took a seat outside a bakery.

You jogged across the street and knelt down in front of the little kid.

“Hey, buddy.” You gave him a gentle smile. “Need some help?”

It didn’t take long for him to dial his moms number and tell her where he was. Frankly, you wish it took longer. His mother came back in no time and gave you a grateful smile as she hugged her son. You smiled at the family and went back to Lorina across the street.

“Who was that?” Lorina cocked an eyebrow at the child and his mom who were now walking away.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged and sat back down. “He couldn’t find his mom so I let him use my phone.”

“You let a random little kid touch your phone?” She asked in disgust.

“Of course, he was lost.” You said simply. “Plus, I love kids so it didn’t bother me.”

“I hate little kids.” Lorina laughed and sunk back in her chair. “My sister ran over my foot with her bike last year and totally broke like half my toes. I started hitting her and my stupid neighbors called the police. They didn’t even care that she started it.”

You looked to the side to shield your shocked expression and quickly composed yourself.

“Oh, wow.” You squeaked out and cleared your throat. You looked am back at her with hope that she was joining but her face was completely serious.

“It was the literally the stupidest thing.” She rolled her eyes. “I had to go to these like, court ordered anger management classes for a year. Can you believe that?”

“No, I can’t.” You answered honestly. You wondered if Peter knew about her anger issues and feared for him if he did.

“It’s whatever. It was that or jail, so.” She shrugged like normal people had to decided between court ordered classes or jail. You laughed awkwardly and tried to think in excuse to get away from this girl.

“What happened to your sister?” You asked, already anxious for her response.

“She was such a baby about. My dad totally took her side and moved out. I don’t care though. I’m much happier without her.” She scoffed and went back to texting.

“I’m sorry about your dad moving out.” You tried to show sympathy. “Do you miss him?”

“Please.” She laughed at your words. “He hated me ever since I broke my little sisters arm. And that was like, three years ago and he still couldn’t let it go. It was her fault that time too. I told her if she went in my room one more time I was gonna twist her arm and literally the next day I find her in my room.”

“So what happened?”

“I did what I said.” She stated. “I twisted her arm but she was like 6 so it broke and I had to get removed from the house for three days. God, I hate that brat.”

You stared at her in bewilderment but she was too busy texting to notice. You got a sick feeling in your stomach as you thought back to your conversation with Peter. Was this what he meant by not being able to tell you the half of it?

“Does Peter know about this?” You asked quietly, praying he had no idea about her violent streak.

“No. You don’t tell your boyfriend these things. It’s not like he ever talks to me anyway. He’s always hanging out with you.” She gave you the side eye and you didn’t know if you should be relieved just yet. Just because he didn’t know about her past doesn’t mean he hadn’t experienced her present.

“Sorry about that.” You said sheepishly. “You guys hung out last night though, right?”

“Yeah. We had a fight though. But I think I fixed the problem. He’s not gonna mess up again.” She said with a confidence that sent a chill down your spine.

“I’m glad you guys could work it out.” You said with a dry mouth. Your eyes drifted down to her knuckles, which were red and bruised. She saw you staring and pulled her hands into her sleeves so you couldn’t see them anymore. You quickly looked away and pretended not to notice, but you couldn’t get the image out of your mind. Something inside you told you it was time to leave.

“I gotta go.” You stood up abruptly and gave her a fake sad face. “I forgot I have a…science project.” You hoped she wouldn’t pick up on the fact that you and Peter used the same excuse when lying, but her face told you that she did.

“Uh, sure. Go nuts.” She rolled her eyes and you took that as your cue to leave. As soon as you had your back to her, your face twisted in fear. Something was going on that Peter sent telling you about. And if he wasn’t gonna tell you, you were gonna get it out of him.

“How was patrol last night?” You started your plan to get the truth out of Peter off slowly. He was hanging out with you Sunday night since he had been with Lorina Saturday night. He had to work out a schedule early in his relationship to make sure he had time to see both his girls.

He just hated the days that weren’t spent with you.

“I didn’t go out last night.” He told you. “Lorina was feeling a little neglected so I hung out with her. She told me you two hung out the other day, though.”

“Oh yeah. After school.” You thought back to your time with his girlfriend and shuddered. “She’s uh…interesting.”

“I’m glad you guys get along.” He smiled slightly and you caught sight of a forming bruise on the side of his face. You hadn’t noticed it until he turned his face into the light, and now it was all you could see.

“Hey.” You squinted your eyes and took Peters chin between your fingers. “Your eye is bruised.”

“Is it?” He touched it and winced. “Must’ve happened on patrol.”

“I thought you skipped patrol to hang out with Lorina?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Oh, right.” His face faltered. “I went on patrol after.”

“I didn’t see you on the news.” You tilted your head. You could always count on a Spider-Man sighting on the cover of a magazine the morning after patrol but hadn’t seen one that morning.

“It was a quiet night.” He lied and looked away from you.

“It was a quiet l night but you have a black eye?” You asked and the sick feeling returned to your tummy.

“Haha, yeah.” He scratched the back of his head. “Some guy punched me pretty hard.”

When he moved, his sleeve slid up his arm and you could see deep red scratches on his skin. You took his arm and inspected it closely. You had accidentally stretched yourself enough times to know what caused them.

“These are nail marks.” You looked up at him for answers. Little flakes of red nail polish were still lingering on his skin. Peter pulled his arm away and cradled it.

“She grabbed my arm pretty hard, too.” He said with a flushed face.

“I thought you said it was a guy?” You caught his slip up and Peters eyes widened in a panic. You could see him struggling to get his story straight and it only worried you further.

“It was dark. I couldn’t really tell.” He stammered. You knew Peter well enough to know when he was lying. The alternative to him getting beaten on patrol was almost too much for you to process.

“You’re bruised, Peter. What happened?” You whispered as tears came to your eyes. “I know you weren’t on patrol last night.”

“Yes, I was.” He insisted but you couldn’t believe him. You knew who gave him those bruises.

“You’re lying to me.” You protested. “Since when do you lie to me?”

“I’m not lying. I was on patrol.” He repeated with desperation. His eyes pleaded with you to drop it but you just couldn’t. You coudk the stand by and let it happen.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” You snapped and gently touched his black eye. You rubbed your thumb over the bruise as delicately as you could and thought back to Lorina’s red knuckles. Peter could see the wheels turning in your brain and white hit fear went through him.

“Did she do this?” You whispered and Peter flinched slightly.

“Who?” Peter pretended not to know what you were talking about.

“Lorina.”

Peters face told you everything you needed to know. For a minute, he was a different person. Your typically smart and strong best friend became a pale, submissive shell of a man at the mention of her name. It was like she was in the room with you, solentikg tormenting a defenseless Peter. You could see the fear in his eyes when you said her name and it confirmed your worst nightmare.

She was abusing him.

Peter let out a few shaky breaths as he composed himself before shaking his head.

“What? Are you crazy? Why would my girlfriend hit me?” He licked his dry lips and tried to think of a better excuse.

“For the same reason she had to go to her court ordered anger management classes. She obviously had a problem with violence, Peter.” You began to cry as Peter continued to defend his abuser. You drew your hands away from his face and ran to his bathroom, puking in toilet as the sickness in your stomach finally caught up to you. You wiped your mouth and went back to Peter, who was holding himself like a child trembling. You walked up to him and said nothing, only staring him down until he confessed.

“Lorina would never hit me.” He said quietly and turned away from you. Your blood heated up inside you and he continued to lie his way out of admitting what was really going on.

“Why are you protecting her?” You yelled and Peter wiped around with a rage behind his eyes.

“Because I don’t know what to do!” He screamed and his face contorted in misery as he began to sob. “I don’t know what to do.”

You watched your best friend break down before taking him into your arms. He cried on your shoulder as you stroked his hair, in tears yourself.

“Peter…” You mumbled and pressed a sorrowful kiss to his head. Peters body shook against yours as he let out the tears he had been holding in. He pulled away after a minute and you were able to wipe his tears with your hands.

“How long has this been going on?” You asked gently as you handed him a tissue.

“She smacked me a few weeks into our relationship and she swore it would never happen again.” He sniffled.

“But it did, didn’t it?”

“Almost everyday. She just gets so mad all the time.” His voice cracked and you pulled him into another hug. “It’s never even over something I did. If she got a bad grade or got yelled at by a teacher, she takes it out on me. What did I do wrong?”

You pulled away and held his face between your hands.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” You assured him. “People like her don’t need a reason to be violent. They just are. This isn’t your fault.”

“It feels like it is.” He shrugged sadly. “If I was a better boyfriend-“

“Stop that.” You cut him off. “Don’t make excuses for her. She’s an abuser. There is nothing you did or didn’t do that made her hurt you. She would’ve done this regardless.”

“I just feel so stupid.” He whimpered. “She’s always so apologetic after she hits me, and I always forgive her. I keep believing her when she says it won’t happen again, and then it does happen again and I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot. This is not your fault.” You swore. Peters bottom lip trembled as he searched your face, latching onto you for much needed comfort.

“I don’t know how to handle this.” He shook his head. “There’s no advice for men online. No one thinks we can be the victims too.”

“I’m so sorry, Peter. I believe you.” You pulled him down on the bed and held him close. He rested his head over your heartbeat and let you play with his hair. You couldn’t heal him, but you could remind him how it felt to be loved.

“Thank you.” He mumbled in appreciation as he leaned into your touch. He could already feel himself relaxing with you.

“Has she ever made you bleed?” You wondered as you untangled a knot in his curls.

“It’s rare, but it happened a few times.” He told you. “It’s strange; when it runs into your mouth, it’s almost…sweet.”

You didn’t know what to say, not trusting your voice to be steady if you tried to speak. It killed you that Peter has endured the abuse for so long and you felt almost ashamed for not realizing he needed help sooner.

“I could hurt her.” He said suddenly. “I could hurt her with half the force she uses against me. I know that.”

“But you don’t.”

“And I never would.” He confirmed.

“I’d never expect you too. It takes a big man to have the power you have and not fight back.” You looked down at him from your position. He gave you a sad smile before looking away.

“Then why do I feel so weak?” He asked timidly.

“You’re not weak. Shes just weighing you down.” You shook your head, angry at the thought of her. A silence settled in your room, the only sounds coming from your breathing.

“Why do you stay?” You asked suddenly. You couldn’t understand how a boy as smart as Peter could stay in a relationship that was so obviously toxic.

“There was this study that if you put frogs in boiling water, they’ll jump right out. But if you put a frog in warm water and slowly raise it to a boil, it’ll stay there until it dies. That’s what an abusive relationship is like.” Peter said slowly. “She slowly raised the temperature and now I’m…”

“Dying?” You finished his sentence for him and held him tighter. “I don’t want you to stay until you die. You deserve so much better.”

“Maybe I don’t deserve better. It’s not like over ever been given better. Maybe I’m getting exactly what I deserve.” Peter spoke softly, making you sit up. You climbed on top of him and pinned him to the mattress.

“Don’t say that, okay?” You demanded as your nose almost touched Peter’s. “That’s her talking. You have value that she can’t never take away. You deserve everything good in this world. I never want to hear you say that again.”

Peter breathed heavily as he looked up at you with a pink blush on his face. You became aware of your position and rolled off of him, laying next to him on the bed.

“Thanks.” He said breathlessly as you both stared at the ceiling.

“You’re welcome.” You rolled onto your side and looked at Peter. “I’m here for you, but we can’t fix this on our own. We need to tell an adult.”

“If I tell people, everyones gonna laugh at me for not fighting back.” Peter pointed out.

“No smart person would laugh at someone strong enough to take abuse this long.” You insisted. “You’re brave for not fighting back.”

“You think?” He smiled shyly at you. You smiled back and wrapped an arm around his torso.

“I know.”

You spotted Lorina the next day in the courtyard, face once again buried in her phone. The principle was busy calling her parents to let her know she was no longer welcomed back at Midtown Tech. She assured you and Peter that she would call the police as soon as she contacted Lorina’s parents, but you still wanted to take matters into your own hands. You wanted to give her a going away present before she left yours and Peters life forever.

“Hey, Lorina.” You walked up to her with a big smile.

“Oh, hi Y/n.” She said without looking up.

“Peter looked pretty beat up today.” You commented and leaned against the wall. She looked up from her phone with an annoyed expression and gave you a once over.

“Look, I don’t know what he told you but-“

“He didn’t tell me anything.” You cut her off and stepped closer to her. “Even covered in your bruises, he protected you. I just figured it out.”

“Couples fight. You wouldn’t know.” She sassed you and tried to go back to her phone. You pushed her phone down and stepped in front of her to gain her full attention.

“Couples fight with their words, not their fists.” You caged her between your arms and got in her face. “And from what I understand, your fights are always one sided.”

“It’s not my fault if he can’t be a man and defend himself.” She stepped up to you with a fire in her eyes.

“Peter would never hit you because he’s a boy. But guess what?” You asked as you cracked your knuckles.

“What?” She raised an unamused eyebrow.

“I’m not a boy.” You quipped before your first collided with her face.

I know it’s not always gonna end like this. You’re not always gonna get to punch your abuser in the face and walk free. I just hit 5k followers. That’s 5k people who need to be educated on this. I wanted to shed some light on this topic since I have a platform that allows me to. 1 in 4 men and 1 in 3 women will experience domestic abuse in some way in their lives. If you or someone you know is experiencing this, help is out there.

National Domestic Abuse Hotline: 1−800−799−7233

National Domestic Violence Hotline

Tips

Tag list 🏷

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1K notes · View notes

kuroopaisen · 4 years

Text

cause & effect || chapter 4

➵ your work friend, kuroo, has a tiny favour to ask. to say you’re surprised is an understatement. but, for some stupid reason, you agreed to it.

warnings: f!reader, alcohol

wc: 2.1k

m.list | ch. 3 ↞ ch. 4 ↠ ch. 5

You sip the hot sake with a grimace. It’s not bad per se, just… different.

For a restaurant whose whole gimmick was hot sake, you’re surprised it clashes so much with your meal. But at least it brought you a little warmth.

Kuroo’s having as strange a time as you are. Each sip of his sake is accommodated with a grimace. Somehow, it makes him look a couple years younger.

Your legs are tucked under the futon attached to your table, but admittedly there’s not much room. Kuroo’s legs are far too long and the kotatsu much too cramped.

“Give me some room, would you?” You grin, nudging him with your knee.

“Oh, sorry,” Kuroo chuckles, adjusting himself.

This isn’t the first fake date you’ve been on with Kuroo. Well, they weren’t dates – not technically. The purpose of them was to get to know each other better; something you’d both agreed was important if you were going to pull this whole thing off.

You’d never really thought about it before, but there’s a lot of mundane information shared in relationships. Things you might not think to mention to other people, or even things you haven’t told anyone else. Not that you were saying any of that to each other – you just need to be convincingly close.

You are going to meet his family, after all.

“So,” you sigh, setting your cup on the kotatsu, “you lived with your dad, your grandmother, and your grandfather?”

“Mhm,” he nods.

“And I need to stay on my toes around them?”

“Oh yeah,” Kuroo grins. “Chances are they’ll tease the hell out of you if they get comfortable enough.”

“Great,” you chuckle.

“You’ll be fine,” he smiles. “I’m sure they’ll love you.”

“You sure?”

“Chances are they’ll tell you you’re too good for me.”

“Maybe I am,” you smirk, taking another sip of sake.

Kuroo scoffs. “Brutal!”

You’re not sure if he can tell you’re lying. He’s handsome, clever, and witty enough to be entertaining. You’d feel lucky to have a guy like him look your way.

Oh well, you think as you place your hands in your lap. You’re quite happy to keep that thought to yourself. There’s no good reason to feed a man’s ego.

He stretches his arms above his head, groaning. You swear you can hear his bones cracking.

“You sound like an old man,” you grin.

“Look, it’s not my fault the human body is badly designed.”

“Ah, so it’s not your fault for not looking after it properly, hm?” Perhaps he has a point. But you have to make your own fun these days.

“I’ll have you know I take very good care of my body, thank you very much.”

You’re not sure if he intended it to sound so flirtatious, but you blush anyway.

“Your bones say otherwise,” you muse.

“I won’t stand for this abuse,” he grins, standing up. “You ready?”

You follow suit, scampering after him as he approaches the cashier.

As always, he pays. No matter how hard you try to protest, he just smiles and says he feels bad for taking up your evenings.

You don’t know a casual way to say that you actually enjoy these outings.

Your solution is just buy him fancier coffees in the morning.

Kuroo deals with the transaction in the same smooth and charming way he always does, and you’re sure he’s definitely made an imprint on the dear cashier’s memory.

It’s only late afternoon, but the sky is already darkening. The trees that line the street are speckled with fairy lights, already glowing like candles in the dim twilight.

You gaze at them with a tiny sense of wonder. You’ve heard the theory that people made winter a time of celebration to give them something to pull through the dark and the cold for. Maybe that’s true – but there’s always such beauty to be find during wintertime, even if it feels like the tip of your nose is about to fall out.

Fairy lights in a tree are so small, so inconsequential, and yet so human.

You shake your head. That’s the sake talking.

You turn to Kuroo to say something.

He’s peering at you intently, eyes roaming your face.

You blush, unsure what to make of that look. Is there something on your face? “Everything okay?”

“The lighting’s good here.”

You frowned. “Huh?”

Kuroo fishes his phone out of his pocket, taking a step towards you and hovering an arm above your shoulders.

“You all good to take a photo?” He asks, and it clicks.

“Oh! Right!” You nod, almost a little too fervently. “Sure.”

He smiles, slinging his arm across your shoulders. You lean into him, tilting your face to what you believe to be your best angle.

Sure, these photos are technically ‘fake’, but that doesn’t mean you can’t look your best.

He snaps a couple of photos of the two of you before opening his gallery. The two of you take a moment to observe the handful of images.

The two of you may not really in a relationship, but you’re sure these photos could fool you.

You point at one of them, nodding. “That one looks good.”

Kuroo chuckles, adding it to his favourites. “Thanks.”

He smiles and slips his phone into his pocket as he steps away from you. You miss his warmth more than you should.

“Have they liked the photos?” You ask.

“Loved them,” he grins.

You know Kuroo’s been sending them to his family – with your permission, of course. It’s partly to satiate their desire to intrude on his love life, and also to make it more believable when you finally meet them. You have half a mind to save them to your own phone with how cute they are.

“Oba-chan’s been joking about putting them on the wall.”

You snort. “That’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“She’s desperate,” he grins.

“She must be, if she’s considering omiai.”

Kuroo shrugs. “Ah, she’s just worried about me. She doesn’t want me to be ‘married to my work.’”

“Are you?” You ask, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, God no.”

You laugh as you dig your hands in your pockets.

“I’ve just got a lot going on,” he explains. “I don’t have the time to date.”

“Really?” You tilt your head at him. “You kind of strike me as the kind of guy who’s content to just go home and play dating sims all night.”

Kuroo reels back, a hand on his chest. “You’re joking.”

“I thought you were single because you had some digital waifu or something.”

Kuroo stares at you with an expression of absolute horror. “What have I done to deserve this?”

“I’m just teasing,” you giggle, hopping down the street. “Okay, so if you’re not cuddling up against a body pillow of a scantily clad anime women during those lonely nights, then what do you do with your spare time?”

Kuroo scoffs, shaking his head as he jogs to catch up with you. “Well, I catch up with my friends a fair bit. Oh, and I’m part of a hobby volleyball club.”

“You play?” You look him up and down. Now that he’s said it, it makes perfect sense.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I take good care of my body,” he grins.

Another glance and you realise – yes, actually, he appears to be taking very good care of his body. Those shoulders look a little broader than you’d first thought.

“Is that why you applied for your job?” You ask. “Personal interest?”

“Mhm,” he nods.

Interesting. “Have you always played?”

“I’ve played for as long as I can remember,” he grins. “Believe it or not, but my high school team actually made it to Nationals. With me as their captain.”

“Wait, really?” You look up at him with wide eyes. Now that was certainly unexpected.

“Sure did.”

“How far did you get?”

Kuroo furrows his brow for a moment. “I think it was something like the top 16?”

“That’s… pretty impressive,” you admit. Your knowledge of sports is perhaps a little lower than might be expected of someone in your position, but you digress. Top 16 in the entire nation is definitely something to be proud of.

“Glad you think so,” he grins.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you pursue it professionally?” From your perspective he certainly has the build for it. And if there’s one thing you’re sure of after working next to him for a while now, it’s that he’s clever. A trait that seems to be surprisingly useful on the court.

“There were some real monsters on the teams we faced,” he says, voice languid as ever. “You know about Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio, right?”

You nod. Even if your understanding of the sport itself wasn’t particularly advanced, you were well-aware of the top players. That, at least, you’d made an effort to stay up to date with. Also, a lot of them were unfairly attractive – making that task a bit easier to stick to than some of your others.

“We faced them at Nationals,” he glances at you, a new glint in his eye. Maybe it’s nostalgia.

You shiver.

“That genuinely sounds terrifying.”

Kuroo grins. “It was. Oh, and you know Bokuto Koutarou, right?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Well, we were friends in high school,” Kuroo says, as if it’s the most mundane piece of information you could receive. “Our teams often practiced against one another.”

You stare at him, jaw slack. “No way.”

“I have several embarrassing photos of him to prove it,” Kuroo chuckles.

He’s so confident about it that you have no choice but to believe him.

“You have to introduce me to him,” you say, voice a little more desperate than you’d like.

“Why?” Kuroo flashes you a wicked grin. “Got a crush?”

“No,” you roll your eyes, praying your cheeks aren’t turning too red. “He just seems… nice.”

“Nice and… attractive?”

“Shut up!”

“I’m just saying, he’s technically single—”

“Aren’t I supposed to be your fake girlfriend?” You knock him with one of his shoulders to little avail. You stumble back a bit from the impact. He stays completely still.

Kuroo cackles a little louder than usual. “You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Who knew you were so annoying?” You scoff.

“That’s on you,” he smirks. “You’re the one agreed to this.”

“It’s a hell of my own creation,” you mumble.

“Should’ve read the fine print,” Kuroo teases.

You have half a mind to glare at him to keep this going, but a question pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

“Wait, so…” You press your lips together, frowning. “You didn’t pursue professional volleyball because of people like Bokuto?”

Kuroo tilts his head to the side with a pensive expression. “Sort of,” he shrugs. “I guess I just felt like I didn’t have the same passion for the court that guys like him did.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I just realised my talents would be better applied elsewhere.”

“So… in marketing?”

He grins, glancing at you. “I just think that volleyball has the power to really connect people.”

You tilt your head at him.

“When I first moved to Tokyo, I wasn’t great at talking to people,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “But, because of volleyball, I found a way to… feel more comfortable opening up to people.”

The thought of Kuroo Tetsurou of all people being shy strikes you for a second. It’s hard to picture – but only for a moment.

“So,” he continues, “I want to make it easier for kids to get into this sort of thing. You never know who it might help.”

You smile to yourself. Once again, he’s being cute. And he doesn’t seem to have any clue.

“What about you?” Kuroo asks. “How’d you end up there?”

“Oh, it was just the first place that took me in,” you shrug.

He snorts. “Really?”

“Yeah. I just sent out my resume to a bunch of places and they got back to me first.”

“Oh, wow,” Kuroo grins.

“Sorry it’s not very romantic,” you blush, glancing at him.

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “It sounds very reasonable.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle.

In all honesty, part of you had expected this whole ‘fake dating’ thing to be a bit of a burden. The thought of pretending to like someone a lot more than you actually do sounds draining.

But it’s not hard to like Kuroo Tetsurou. In fact, you think he’s quite pleasant company. This whole charade shouldn’t be much trouble at all.

You dutifully ignore the thought that, if this were a real date, you’d absolutely ask him if he’d like to go on another.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou x you #cause and effect by rowan

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antebunny · 4 years

Text

Intervention Gone Wrong

^^despite the vaguely crack title this swings wildly between crack and angst because those are my two midnight moods^^

When Wei Wuxian hears that the sects are all gathering to form an alliance to kill him, it’s depressing how quickly he believes it. His initial reaction is disbelief, rejection, denial, but all too soon reality sets in. Even after all Wei Wuxian has lived through, apparently he’s still managed to be naive. It’s not like he’s done anything. He’s been holed up with the Wens in the Burial Mounds, trying to turn the resentment-soaked ground into something farmable. He even missed his sister’s wedding, and staged a fight between himself and Jiang Cheng just to fully sever ties with the cultivation world. All he wants is to be left alone.

“They say even Sect Leader Jiang is going,” the people of Yiling are whispering when Wei Wuxian descends from the Burial Mounds.

Wei Wuxian is glad that none of them recognize him as the Yiling Patriarch, because he strolls up to one of the vendors he heard whispering, and prods him for more information.

“All the cultivation sects are gathering in Nightless City to kill our Patriarch,” the man says. “Someone must’ve let it slip, but it was supposed to be a secret–he’s not supposed to know.”

Well. The Yiling Patriarch knows.

He abandons the quest for potatoes and returns to their settlement in the Burial Mounds. When he tells the Wen siblings, their faces turn white.

“I’m s–” Wen Ning begins.

“Don’t apologize,” Wei Wuxian cuts him off. “It’s not your fault.”

“If you hadn’t protected us–” Wen Qing begins.

“It’s not your fault,” Wei Wuxian says again. “It’s.” He presses his lips together, and when he opens them, he means to say why couldn’t they just leave us alone? But what spills out is a plaintive: “Even Jiang Cheng?”

They’re looking at him with pity now, and Wei Wuxian hates that, but he can’t take the words back. He can imagine how it happened: if the rest of the great sects all agreed–so he supposes Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen must have changed their minds about him, though he doesn’t know why–then Jiang Cheng would’ve been pressured into agreeing as well.

“We have to evacuate,” Wen Qing says.

“Maybe they’re just rumors,” Wen Ning suggests at the same time.

Wei Wuxian can’t help but spare a fond thought for his endlessly optimistic friend, but it’s optimism he no longer shares. “We still have to evacuate,” he says. “If you take everyone to the forest island between Yunmeng and Qishan, I can join you there. And then we can find a plot of land somewhere, I suppose, to hide.”

He’s already turned his back on the cultivation world, but hiding from it entirely–completely leaving it behind, without any chance of seeing his family ever again–is a worse kind of goodbye.

“And where are you going?” Wen Qing asks suspiciously.

Wei Wuxian manages a bone-weary smile for her. “Isn’t it obvious?” He says tiredly. “Nightless City.”

Contrary to popular belief, Nie Huaisang actually does care about people, not just his birds and his fans. And he doesn’t just care about his brother, although his brother is of course his first priority. Nie Huaisang cares about his friends, Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng, and he cares about the Nie disciples under his brother’s care, and he cares about his brother’s sworn brothers. Nie Huaisang empathizes with people, he just usually chooses not to act on it.

The thing is, Nie Huaisang likes Wei Wuxian. They’re not the sworn brother type of friends; Nie Huaisang’s not exactly dying for him. He likes Wei Wuxian’s easy-going friendliness, likes his willingness to help, and admires his unwillingness to bend his core principles. It reminds him a lot of Nie Mingjue. This is all to say that Nie Huaisang thinks that the world is a better place with Wei Wuxian, and unfortunately the world seems to disagree.

Nie Huaisang just wishes that the job of keeping Wei Wuxian alive fell to anyone but him. He’d kept his head down and assumed that they’d figure it out eventually, but he’s not stupid, he sees where this is going. His first thought is that Jiang Cheng will figure it out, but then he remembers his friend is pricklier than a pear, and with more parental issues than Jin Guangyao. Jiang Yanli, he thinks, could help in theory. Nie Huaisang briefly muses on encouraging Jiang Yanli to fix things, before deciding that getting her to overcome a lifetime of being told that she’s no help is much harder than just doing it himself.

And since there’s no one else who cares about Wei Wuxian, that means that if Nie Huaisang wants to visit Lotus Pier at any point in the future and trade gossip with his friends, he’s going to have to stage an intervention for Wei Wuxian.

Honestly. The things he does for his friends.

Nie Huaisang also hopes that an intervention can get Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng out of the dark mood they’ve been in ever since the end of the Sunshot Campaign. It’s understandable, truly, but Nie Huaisang isn’t touching that with a ten-foot saber.

The first sect Nie Huaisang goes to is the Lan sect. Lan Xichen is bound to hear him out, now that he’s Nie Huaisang’s brother’s sworn brother, and Nie Huaisang wants to know where they stand on the whole Yiling Patriarch business.

Lan Wangji is the most difficult person Nie Huaisang has ever tried to understand, and he didn’t try all that much. All he’s really sure of is that Hanguang-jun could not get away from Wei Wuxian fast enough back during their guest disciple year, and hates demonic cultivation. This he knows second-hand, from countless tales of arguments between the two during the war. It’s a bad combination for Wei Wuxian, but luckily for him, Lan Wangji also has an unmatched reputation for righteousness. Considering that he chose to argue with Wei Wuxian over demonic cultivation instead of just letting the man rest and win the war for them, Nie Huaisang figures this is more or less accurate. All in all, Nie Huaisang is pretty sure that Lan Wangji will support Wei Wuxian, if he realizes that the Jins are purposefully trying to get him killed.

Lan Xichen, it turns out, is fully aware that Jin Guangshan is up to something, but he’s pretending that he doesn’t.

“Sect Leader Jin’s business is Sect Leader Jin’s business,” Lan Xichen says firmly, when Nie Huaisang prods a little too much. “You know we don’t gossip.”

Ah well. It’s not like Nie Huaisang was expecting support on his one-man intervention quest. He does a little more snooping before he leaves the Cloud Recesses, which is how he discovers a stunning secret.

“Wangji,” he overhears Lan Xichen saying. “I know you…care for Young Master Wei–”

That’s as good as a declaration of love from either Lan brother. Which is to say: Lan Wangji is in love with Wei Wuxian. Now that’s a match that even Nie Huaisang, matchmaker extraordinaire, didn’t see coming.

Once Lan Xichen has accidentally confessed his brother’s love for Wei Wuxian to Nie Huaisang, suddenly Nie Huaisang has a great advantage. He hasn’t the faintest clue how their relationship will work out in the future, between Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation and Lan Wangji’s sect rules, but that is another issue that Nie Huaisang isn’t touching with a ten-foot saber. For now, it’s enough to know that there’s someone else, someone with power, that Nie Huaisang can rely on to keep Wei Wuxian alive.

So the next place Nie Huaisang goes to is the Jin sect. He drags Jin Guangyao away from his duties for a night of drinking, and then proceeds to get blackout drunk. Or at least, he pretends to get blackout drunk.

“Did you know,” Nie Huaisang says, through hiccups, “That Lan Wangji has a th…” His mouth works, trying to form the word. “A thing!” He fumbles for his glass again.

“Perhaps you should have water now, Young Master Nie,” Jin Guangyao suggests.

“Ah ah ahhhh,” Nie Huaisang corrects, slurring the sounds together. “What did I say about this young master business?”

Jin Guangyao smiles indulgently at him. “Not to?”

“Uh-huh.” Nie Huaisang thinks for a moment. “A thing!” He repeats. “For Wei Wuxian!”

“What sort of thing?” Jin Guangyao asks.

“Oh, you know,” Nie Huaisang fumbles for his fan and waves it around airily. “That sort of thing.”

He can see Jin Guangyao pale, and knows he’s working through the logical thought process. If Lan Wangji will be sad when Wei Wuxian dies, then Lan Xichen will be sad, and Jin Guangyao doesn’t want that. But even as Nie Huaisang sees this, he knows that it won’t be enough. Jin Guangyao will still do it, on the off-chance that he finally wins his father’s approval.

Nie Huaisang wants to shake him by the shoulders and tell him that he deserves better, but he doesn’t. Instead, he tries to imagine that he’s Jin Guangshan (ew), and his plan to stir the sects into killing the Yiling Patriarch isn’t working, because Wei Wuxian just isn’t doing anything. If he were Jin Guangshan, he would either find a way to lure Wei Wuxian out of the Burial Mounds, or find a way to frame him for something and rally the sects to kill him before Wei Wuxian can protest his innocence.

So Nie Huaisang just has to move first.

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang begins sweetly, and he is offended by the very visible flash of fear in his brother’s eyes. “I’m your favorite brother, right?”

“What’s wrong?” Nie Mingjue says, a bead of sweat forming on his upper lip. “I haven’t even made you practice saber recently.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Nie Huaisang says, throwing in a pout for good measure. “But things could be better.”

“What is it?” Nie Mingjue asks warily.

Nie Huaisang blinks innocently. “I was just thinking how much happier I would be if you did me this one small, small favor.” He stops to estimate how much Wei Wuxian is worth to him. “I’d even do two consecutive weeks of saber practice,” he wheedles.

Nie Mingjue eyes him like Nie Huaisang is the one twice his size. “Depends on the favor?” He settles on finally.

Nie Huaisang tells him.

“You want me to what.”

“No,” Jiang Cheng says.

“Hear me out,” Nie Huaisang wheedles.

Lotus Pier is the last of the great sects on Nie Huaisang’s list, just because he feels like Jiang Cheng will be a lot easier to convince once there’s nothing he can do about it anyway.

Jiang Cheng merely glares at him, looking about one second from kicking him out of the Jiang sect leader’s private meeting rooms. “I know you’re behind this, Huaisang,” he says flatly.

Now Nie Huaisang has to admit that in his haste to act before Jin Guangshan, he’s been more obvious than he would’ve liked, but he’s truly been transparent if even Jiang Cheng knew he was up to something.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Nie Huaisang wails, fanning himself aggressively.

“I know you’re the reason your brother decided to join Jin Guangshan’s crusade!” Jiang Cheng explodes. “I don’t know why, but–”

“Sect Leader Jin was going to do it sooner or later,” Nie Huaisang interrupts, eyes innocently wide. “I only thought that if we joined in we’d have more control over it.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrow into slits. “Let me get this straight,” he says. “You think Jin Guangshan wants my brother dead, for the Seal.” He doesn’t even bother waiting for confirmation, which is how Nie Huaisang knows that Jiang Cheng already believes that. “So your solution is to get the sects to make a pact to kill my brother–just so that you do it before Jin Guangshan does.”

Well, when he puts it that way…

“Okay, look,” Nie Huaisang says, snapping his fan shut. “Jin Guangshan goes to Nightless City thinking he’s heading an alliance to kill Wei Wuxian. Then my brother suggests destroying the Seal, and you support him. The Lans are bound to support that, so then either Jin Guangshan is forced to reveal his hand or he’s forced to back down.”

And hopefully whatever’s going on between you and Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian gets sorted out as well, Nie Huaisang thinks. He doesn’t have a plan for that, exactly, so much as the hope that if he pours the chaos of the entire cultivation world into Wei Wuxian’s lap, something’s bound to come loose.

“Alright,” Jiang Cheng relents, albeit begrudgingly. “Who’s going to tell Wei Wuxian?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Nie Huaisang says, snapping his fan open again and hiding his smile. “I have a plan for that.”

“I d-don’t know why da-ge changed his mind!” Nie Huaisang sobs into Lan Xichen’s arms. “B-but now everyone is going to kill Wei Wuxian, and he hasn’t even done anything!”

Lan Xichen pats Nie Huaisang on the back, his face pale. “I’m sure we can talk this out,” he says weakly. “But, Huaisang, my brother–”

“He hates Wei Wuxian, I know,” Nie Huaisang interrupts, sobbing even louder.

He pauses, breath hitching just in time to hear the sound of a spiritual sword being unsheathed–and then, presumably, mounted. Lan Xichen had probably been about to say something like “my brother is coming.” It’s really too bad Nie Huaisang interrupted him.

“It’s so sad, because Wuxian really likes him!”

Lan Xichen blinks several times, and his face does something funny. “R-really?”

Nie Huaisang sniffs loudly. “But that’s not the point,” he cries. He tugs on Lan Xichen’s robes. “You have to go stop them!”

“The Lan sect will surely have a presence,” Lan Xichen says. “But Huaisang–”

Nie Huaisang bursts into tears again, successfully distracting him from escaping Nie Huaisang’s clutches. He doesn’t stop crying, or let Lan Xichen leave, for another ten minutes, until Lan Wangji has had plenty of time to leave the Cloud Recesses.

Doubtless he’ll fly to Yiling, where he’ll tell Wei Wuxian a less than comprehensive overview of their plan. It’s not exactly the informant Jiang Cheng had been picturing, but Nie Huaisang will make do, so long as it’s Lan Wangji. Perhaps he’ll vow to protect Wei Wuxian, and then declare his undying love to Wei Wuxian–so Nie Huaisang’s a romantic, sue him–so by the time the two of them actually make it to Nightless City, another piece of the puzzle will be in place.

Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji lands at the base of the Burial Mounds running. He tears up the path, worn into the mountain’s face by Wei Ying and the Wens. When he reaches the top, the place where the little Wen settlement once stood is completely empty. The cave where Wei Ying once slept is empty. Little Wen Yuan is nowhere to be found, nor are the elderly Wens. There’s no sign of life, anywhere, save for the abandoned plot of land, ready for farming.

Lan Wangji falls to his knees, sullying his white robes with dirt. Wei Ying, he thinks desperately. Where are you?

The last time Nightless City had this many people, they were leading the final attack of Wen Ruohan.

The memory randomly occurs to Wei Wuxian as he alights on the massive outer wall of the Sun Palace, before the great pavilion where all the sect cultivators have gathered. Last time, they were charging up these steps, while Wen Ruohan stood in the entrance. Now, Wei Wuxian stands on top of it, one hand on Chenqing, and the other on the Seal.

Down below, he sees the bright yellow robes of the Jins. Jin Guangshan has placed himself at the head of the alliance, because of course he has. But Jin Guangyao is there, his father’s silent shadow, and so is Jin Zixuan, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Nie Mingjue is stone-faced at the head of the Nie contingent. Lan Xichen is blank-faced at the head of the Lans, almost like his brother.

In vain, Wei Wuxian looks for Lan Zhan. He doesn’t care what he sees reflected back at him, he only wants to see Lan Zhan. But he isn’t there. Finally, Wei Wuxian looks over the Jiangs. Jiang Cheng is scowling, to Wei Wuxian’s utter lack of surprise.

“How rude,” Wei Wuxian calls, interrupting whatever Jin Guangshan’s going on about. “A party for me and I wasn’t invited?”

Jin Guangshan startles when he hears Wei Wuxian, though he hides it well. Jiang Cheng doesn’t seem surprised, merely directs his scowl directly at Wei Wuxian. Which is rather unfair, Wei Wuxian feels. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong.

“Get off the roof,” Jiang Cheng snaps. “Get down here.”

Wei Wuxian stares down at him, eyes fizzling with red light. He can’t be serious. Just because Jiang Cheng didn’t tell him doesn’t mean Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what this is about.

“You can’t be serious,” he sneers.

“It might induce a better conversation,” Lan Xichen says, solemnly.

That’s certainly no lie. The Lans never lie. Though Wei Wuxian would make a case for misleading–his sentence implies that the reason they want Wei Wuxian to come down is just so that they don’t have to shout at each other from so far away, and not–

“Won’t you come down and join us?” Jin Guangshan says, sickly sweet. “We were discussing some concerns that people have raised about your behavior.”

–So that they can kill him easier.

Why is he here again? Oh, that’s right. Wei Wuxian was hoping this was an overblown rumor.

Wei Wuxian laughs harshly. The sound is swallowed by the endless night. “Sect Leader Jin must think I’m stupid,” he says, with thinly veiled anger.

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng fumes. “Stop playing around and get down here.”

“Who’s playing around?” Wei Wuxian demands, Chenqing twirling around and around in his hand. He stalks up and down the roof, just an inky smudge against the vast black sky. Torches flicker all around the pavilion, lighting the cultivators up in all their colors.

Usually Jiang Cheng is a terrible liar, but there’s not a hint of deception in his demeanor right now. If Jiang Cheng wants to settle a score with him, then Wei Wuxian is happy to do so. But as far as Wei Wuxian is concerned, he doesn’t owe the rest of the world anything.

“I heard Sect Leader Jin’s moving speech,” Wei Wuxian continues, full to the brim with anger. He stops pacing, and stands facing the cultivators. His hand trembles on Chenqing. He didn’t come here for a fight, but now his blood is singing for one.

From the back of the mass of cultivators, a moving white blur comes in at full speed. Soon, the blur reveals itself to be Lan Wangji, late for clearly the first time in his life, if his expression is any indication. Every line in his typically stoic face is drawn taut with tension. Wei Wuxian’s hunger for a fight drains away.

He’s still angry, but he has to protect the Wens. They’re waiting for him, on the forest island halfway between the Burial Mounds and Nightless City. He has to return to them, or Wen Ning is probably going to come wandering into Nightless City looking for him. He can’t afford a fight.

“Good for you,” Jiang Cheng gripes. “Now will you get off the roof?”

Wei Wuxian is still angry, but beneath that, beneath all the bravado and the sneers and the self-righteousness are the white-knuckled, shaking hands that he draws in front of him to clutch Chenqing protectively by his chest. Beneath it all is the shaking voice that Wei Wuxian forces down until his tone sounds acceptable. Beneath it all is the part of Wei Wuxian that he doesn’t want to admit: the part that’s terrified.

Lan Zhan stops next to his brother, joining the ranks of Lan cultivators, and whatever hope Wei Wuxian had sinks like a stone to the soles of his boots. Dread pools like acid in his stomach, hissing and churning his emotions into knots.

Wei Wuxian looks across 3,000 cultivators, and swallows, laughter and sneers fading away at last. His voice is small and shaking when he finally speaks. “I’m not coming down, Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says.

#so this doesn't make sense #but in my defense #uh it's 1 am?#what can you expect?#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #lan xichen #jiang cheng #my writing #writeblr #lan wangji #nie mingjue #antebunny's ficlets

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mashiraostail · 4 years

Note

Hi I'm soft, can I please have a fix of Aizawa's S/O taking care of him after the USJ attack?

soft is the mood!

“Shouta, pick your head up.” “it’s up-” “No, it’s not, look straight ahead.” A pause as he shifts, then you huff, “thank you.” You comb careful fingers through his tangled hair. Normally you’d really be on his case about letting it get like this, but given the current circumstance..you supposed you couldn’t hold this against him, he was in practically a full-body cast, after all. You spray some more detangler into it. “How do you feel?” You ask quietly, running a comb through the newly wet strands. “The same.” His voice is indifferent, if he was in pain he wasn’t gonna tell you. You just hope he’s not lying. “Not better or worse?” “Just the same.” He nods again and you hum pulling all his hair back off his forehead and temples, away from his ears. “I’m sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” He deflects you. “I know. But I’m sorry you’re in pain.” You retort and he mutters something before saying louder, “I’m not in pain. The medicine is fine. And recovery girl is doing her thing. I should be alright in no time.” “Shouta. It doesn’t matter how you’re going to feel it matters how you feel now.” He can’t see you from his seat between your legs, but he can tell your frowning from the hardness in your voice. And you’re right. “Yeah. It’s alright. Sorry I know I shouldn’t do that. It’s not that bad really. I get a headache sometimes, but for the most part the medicine works. ” “It’s okay.” You kiss the back of his head and he slumps a little bit forward, you can tell he’s done talking about it. “Do you have the elastic?” He nods at it where it rests on the bedsheets by his leg. He can’t help but feel a little useless right now. He can’t do anything, not a single thing. He needed you or Hizashi for everything, he couldn’t even bend his fingers. “Shouta Aizawa I am not going to tell you to pick your head up again.” You say it meaning to sound stern, but there’s a little laugh underneath it that makes him grin under all the bandages. In all fairness he appreciates your usual prodding, if you handled him like glass he’d honestly simply feel worse. “It just feels good.” He picks his head up again anyways, he couldn’t help it, you were effectively putting him to sleep, your fingers carefully slowly pulling through his hair, wrapping the strands around each other. You just hum at him affectionately, pulling him back lightly by his hair to kiss the crown of his head again, “push that elastic over here.” He does his best, it’s probably not as close as you wanted or much at all to really be helpful but you reach it anyways. “Thank you.” He just hums back at you. “How is it?” You pull away after wrapping the tail of the braid in an elastic a few times, “not too tight?” Aizawa shakes his head as much as he can. “It feels better this way, thank you.” “It won’t get too tangled now either.” You hum, leaning back into his pillows and letting him follow, resting his tired frame against your chest. “Are you exhausted?” You hum and he nods, he’s always tired sure but he can stay up usually...but right now...just sitting up for a few minutes while you cleaned him up was enough to put him out of commission, he’d only gotten up for the day a few hours ago and he already wanted to call it a night, it was hardly even noon. “Why don’t we take a little nap? I’m tired too honestly.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders gently, “and then when you wake up we can take off some of the bandages, recovery girl said she’d stop by as soon as she could this afternoon so we can leave them off for a little bit until she gets here, let everything breathe?” “That sounds good.” It feels stupid to be so upset. he wasn’t mean to get like this, he was rational, level headed, but all he wanted to do right now was cover your arms where they rounded his shoulders, he wanted to hold you back. “You know for, a guy who isn’t allowed to shower you still smell pretty nice.” He feels you press a long kiss to the skin behind his ear, one of the only places exposed. “Take a deep breath Sho.” You lean into him, “it’s alright.” He falls asleep with relative ease after that. When he wakes up again you aren’t behind him anymore. A first aid kit is on his nightstand, and he can hear you pattering around. It takes about 5 minutes for you to find your way back in there. “Oh! You’re awake!” You sit beside him, “recovery girl came while you were asleep. Feeling any better? You could have called when you woke up.” He did, a little, and he felt worlds less swollen, though the looseness of the casts on his arms should indicate that to be a reality rather than just a feeling. “I was gonna, I just woke up so it’s fine.” He shuffles a little bit and you nod. “You really did yourself no favors going back to teach so early.” You scold him, sitting before him in his bed. “I had to.” “No, you just let Hizashi talk you into every hair-brained scheme he comes up with.” You beacon for him to sit up, “you need to be more careful. I know you probably don’t want to hear this from me...” You start removing the casts on his arms, “but you seriously had me worried.” You’d held off giving him this speech until now, he supposed he should hear you out. “When I saw you all wrapped up in the hospital..” You carefully slide one off, “I thought I was as good as on my own again.” You start wrapping his arm in some tough feeling bandages, he guesses Recovery Girl healed the break, now it was just a crack, a sprain maybe. Either way, he probably had about 2 more days of these slings. “I’m proud of you for keeping your kids safe. I can’t say I would have done anything differently.” Your voice gets quiet, “but how would you feel if it were me sitting there like you right now?” He nods curtly at that, not even really wanting to imagine it. You pull him toward you by his jaw and press a long kiss to his forehead, covered in bandages. “She said we could take these off now.” You add and he hums gratefully, “thank god.” You unfasten the wrapping and slowly unwind it until his face is exposed. You’d seen his face a few times since the incident, taking bandages off to change them, it was only for a few minutes but still it was nice to see your boyfriend’s face instead of a mummy man. His nose is wrapped up in a splint and there’s a row of stitches under his eye but at least it’s still Shouta. A couple of extra bumps and bruises sure, but Shouta nonetheless. “I’m so proud of you Shouta.” You take his jaw in incredibly tentative hands, unsure of what hurt or felt tender without the support of the bandages. “You’re really strong..” Your voice is somehow softer than your hands on his skin. He clears his throat, you’d been together a long time and he always knew you loved him sure but it was palpable right now. “I just did what anyone else would do...” He’s really not used to all the priase, part of being an underground hero he supposed. You chuckle at that. “I should have guessed you’d say something like that.” You tuck a loose strand of hair back into it’s braid, “either way, you’re really brave. Those kids are lucky to have you...I’m lucky to have you too.” “It’s been 10 days since we kissed.” You can tell he’s trying to slink out of the spotlight, despite the only people in the room being the pair of you. “Maybe that’s why you haven’t started feeling any better.” You laugh as you move to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. “That’s a pretty good theory.” He agrees leaning forward a bit, of course you oblige him, you hated to sound selfish but you missed him like this, you didn’t mind taking care of him and you always would be there to do it whenever he needed you but he got broody about it...well more broody than normal. Getting to feel him relax into a kiss was nice. “well now that that’s out of the way, we really could use a shave. Stay there.” You stand up and he groans, “I could just go into-” “No way mister tough guy.” You shake your head at him, “you wanted to go to the sports festival, and teach so bad even with all your broken ribs? Well this is the price you pay. Until Recovery girl says the breaks are all healed you aren’t getting out of that bed when I’m around, do you hear me?” You sit back down, “save your energy for the kids. I’m here and I wanna help, so let me.” He supposed he couldn’t argue with that, and your hands felt mesmerizingly nice on the sides of his neck and jaw, his eyelids are heavy by the time you’re done with him, carefully patting his newly shaven skin dry. “Thank you.” He lets his head drop back into the pillows and you hum, “my pleasure.” You say it like it’s nothing, it rolls off you like water, he can’t put into words how much that puts him at ease. “No, seriously, thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He opens his eyes and looks up at you, “I’m really lucky to have you.” He turns your words back around on you. “I’m glad I’ve got you worrying about me.” “Make me worry like this again and you’re dead meat, Shouta.” He huffs out a quiet laugh at that, “I don’t know, I think some broken ribs, 2 broken arms a broken leg, broken nose and a fractured orbital plate was well worth it for all the extra attention I’ve been getting.” “If you want more attention just ask! Don’t break every bone in your body you maniac!” You wanna wack the back of his head but you stop yourself. He just looks really happy with himself, “but it’s sweet when you worry.” “I can worry about you without you almost dying!” You can’t even pinch his nose because of the splint, “seriously Shouta!” “Alright, alright I’m kidding.” He insists, “come relax a little.” You don’t argue, instead you just climb into bed beside him. “How’s it feel?” You reach out and brush your hand over his jaw, “I didn’t shave it all, you’d look naked.” He laughs as you lean back against him, “I appreciate that, and It feels better, thank you.” You hum and turn his head toward you. “It’s good to see your face.” You thumb affectionately at his cheeks and he clears his throat as you continued, “I missed it.” “Yeah I...guess it’s good to be seen.”

#aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #eraser head x reader #bnha x reader #bnha request

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crystaljins · 4 years

Text

River lead me home | 07

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 7.3k

Synopsis: Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: Hey all! Long time no see! I’m not really sure why I took so long to post... I just felt like I put so much work into this fic that I didn’t want it to be over so easily, and I was like “after this there’s only one more chapter!!” AND THEN! I went into my WIPs folder and made a discovery! THere’s 9 parts to this fic!! So now I feel a little better.

ANyway, PLEASE let me know if you like this chapter because I definitely feel like it’s the emotional climax of the whole story. ALl the stuff that happens from this point on is just... like a really long epilogue.

Tags: @blue1928 @veeparkersstuff @nello-rie (soz it won’t tag you!)

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

You may be a guardian, but even you have your limits. Despite your best attempts to move quickly, the pain in your shoulder rapidly becomes overwhelming.

Jin, frustratingly, picks up on it far sooner than you would prefer.

“I think we need to stop for a break.” He comments. The three of you have barely been walking for an hour and at any moment the Saishta’s could be upon you, ready to take you to their queen.

Jungkook looks like he wants to protest.

“We’re so close though! It’s only a little while longer!” He points out, glancing nervously across the expansive plains. The benefit of them is that you’d spot any Saishtas from miles away, given the hulking, monstrous beasts they tend to use as their mounts.

Jungkook folds his arms. “I think it’s a bad idea to stop now. We need to get to the river and we’re sitting ducks out on the plains like this.”

Jin shoots Jungkook a withering look- this is nothing new, but the venom in Jin’s eyes surprises you. As much as he pretends to hate the tiny pixie, he doesn’t actually mean it.

Jungkook shrivels a bit but doesn’t back down. Luckily (or rather, unluckily), their stand-off is halted by your legs deciding they are no longer strong enough to hold your body up. Blood loss and extreme pain will do that, apparently.

Jin catches you as you crumble, smoothly scooping an arm around your waist and gently tugging you towards him until your weight is supported by his frame. The entire time, he does not tear his gaze from his stare-off with Jungkook. And apparently your weakness is the convincing Jungkook needs to show it’s time for a break. He glares at Jin for another couple of moments before releasing an annoyed huff.

“I’ll cast a disguising spell on you two and scout out the area for any of those annoying reptiles. Don’t move from this spot or the spell will become ineffective.” He announces through grit teeth before zooming off like an angry mosquito.

When he’s out of earshot, Jin turns his gaze to you and gently lowers you to the ground until you are seated amongst the stiff golden stems. He doesn’t release you from his carefully hold, however. Instead, he shifts until he is sitting almost nose-to-nose with you.

“That was strange of Jungkook.” You observe, in an attempt to cover your discomfort at his proximity. You wonder if Jin knows how powerful his good looks are up close. He probably does- he’s never pretended to be anything other than devastatingly handsome.

“He’s scared.” Jin answers with pursed lips. His gaze isn’t on your face, however. It’s fixed on your injured shoulder. Slowly, he raises a hand and gently rests his palm against the front of your shoulder. “You would be too if you could see how terrible you look right now.”

If you are surprised by the single tear that rolls down your face in response, it is nothing compared to Jin’s horrified reaction as he realises what he has done. Apparently, this whole being in love thing sucks.

“W-wait!” Jin protests, absolutely horrified. “I-I didn’t mean it like that-“

You quickly scrub at your face with your uninjured arm. You know, in theory, that Jin didn’t mean that you looked terrible as in that he thought you were ugly. And you know in theory that it is therefore stupid to cry over it. But for some reason, that’s where your mind had gone- reminding you like an ever present shadow just how misplaced you look next to him, how there’s nothing you can give him that he can’t find in a million other girls, and just how little he thinks of you.

You’re surprised when his hand replaces yours, far gentler than you had been as he wipes the tears from your face with a careful swipe of his thumb.

“Hey,” he calls, grabbing your chin in his hand and angling your face until you’re forced to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that you... that you...” he voice cracks and he hangs his head, dropping his hands so he can clench his fists in his lap. “It’s not fun being reminded of how close we came to losing you.” Jin finally says. He drops his hand and his shoulders slump like he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.

You don’t know this Jin. This terrified, uncertain man. He’s never once, in the entire time you’ve known him, shown this vulnerable, fragile side of himself. But you know you’re in trouble because you love this side of him too. The part of him that gets scared, that shows weakness, that can break. As much as you hate the fact that it is you who has made him like this, you are grateful that he trusts you enough to show himself, warts and all, and you feel something molten in your chest as you silently promise yourself that you’ll protect him. No matter what, you’ll keep him safe. Even if you’re not particularly smart or pretty or charming. You’re not the model-like, glamourous, genius girls he normally dates, and you never will be. You’re unemployed and clumsy and socially awkward and you’re selfish and childish on top of all that. But this is what you can offer him: your heart, as pathetic as she is, and the promise to protect him, no matter where he goes or ends up in life.

“I know you didn’t mean it like that. I... just... It’s stupid.” You sigh at yourself before lifting your gaze to watch him. “Are you scared?” You finally question, changing the subject as the last of your tears dry. Jin frowns, nodding slightly.

“A little.” He admits, his tone a bit dry like he’s severely understating his feelings on the matter. And you don’t know why, but something prompts you to reach forward and wrap your hand around his. Perhaps it is the slight shake he tried to hide by gripping the material of his pants so hard his knuckles go white. His hand is surprisingly much bigger than yours- you don’t know why that surprises you, but it does.

“Don’t worry.” You reassure him. “I’ll protect you.”

The corner of his lip quirks and he shoots you an oddly fond look. It’s one you’ve seen before, although not directed at you. You’ve seen him look that way when he speaks about a particularly endearing coworker, or he recalls something silly that Namjoon has done. This is the first time you’ve been on the receiving end.

“In that state?” He questions with a raised brow. You feel yourself bristle a little defensively at the slightly patronising way he is coming across.

“Are you laughing?” You press, slightly offended. “You don’t think I can?”

“No.” Jin answers, turning to you with an odd sort of expression to his face. “I know you will. That’s the problem.” And then, in spite of himself, he offers you a full-blown smile, cheerful and happy like you’ve never really seen before. You are momentarily struck speechless, mesmerised by the sight before you. “But thank you. I’m glad, that I can count on you.”

Something warm and eager blooms in your chest at his words. You cup your hands around his face and you admire the openness of his smile. How great would it be, if you could capture that smile in a picture and keep it forever? If you could preserve the way he’s looking at you right now, so that you always remember with clarity that even if he doesn’t love you, Jin can look at you like this. Like you are something precious and adored. This is the man you get to love. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, you’re still happy. You feel like this love is a happy thing.

“I’m starting to think you only wanted to rest to pull the moves on her.” Jungkook announces his presence, seeming thoroughly unimpressed. He folds his arms as the air shimmers around him, signalling the dispersion of his illusory magic. “‘Let’s go see the river, Jungkook. It’ll be fun. I’ll get over my trauma.’ If you’d told me being a third wheel was in the job description, I never would have come.” Jungkook grumbles as Jin quickly pulls away. You don’t quite catch the way his ears go red and his face seems to burn where your hands had gently cradled him, but Jungkook does, and he merely rolls his eyes at the sight. “It’s time to go.” He urges.

Jin clears his throat awkwardly, scrabbling to his feet and dusting off his trousers before extending his hand out to you.

“C’mon.” He urges, though his tone seems gruffer than before. “Jungkook’s right. The Saishtas will find us at this rate.”

You hesitate, just a moment, before gratefully accepting his hand as he tugs you to your feet.

Oddly, though you expect him to release your hand once you are standing, he does no such thing. Instead, he wraps his hand around yours and uses it to tug you along as the three of you once again set off.

“It’ll be easier for you to keep up.” Is all Jin offers as explanation for why he continues to grip onto your hand as though you’re planning to flee from him the second that he releases you. You stare in confusion for a moment, trying to puzzle out Jin’s behaviour, but he provides no further insight.

The three of you set a much more rapid pace this time, and after your brief rest, you cope much better. Jin eventually releases your hand when it becomes clear you’re gradually regaining your strength as your enhanced healing kicks in. The sun begins to draw close to the horizon and the brilliant blue above begins to deepen into a soft pink. But you realise something, as you continue your advance.

There’s no sound of a river. Over the expansive plains, the river song should carry easily on the warm, sweet breeze. And it should be in view by now, but it’s not. Instead, what you see is a dark, jagged line slicing through the plains like a gaping wound. It’s the edge of a ravine- there’s no river in sight.

“Something’s not right- “ you breathe, only for the breath to be knocked clean from your lungs as Jin throws his full body weight at you, unprompted. You roll a few times from the force of his tackle, before finally landing with his body crouched over you protectively. Your eyes widen in shock, glancing over to where you had stood moment before, only to see the end of an arrow lodged in the ground.

“See!” Jin croaks, hovering over you. “How hard was that? Tackle, don’t push, (Y/N)! If you’re gonna be saving people at least take that on board.” He scolds, in what is clearly the beginning of a Jant. (Jin rant)

“Now’s not the time, Jin!” Jungkook screeches.

“I’m just saying,” Jin cries, as he scrambles off you and yanks you to your feet by your good arm. “How hard would it have been to tackle me instead of taking an arrow to the shoulder?”

His Jant is interrupted by the dreadful sound of the Saishta hunting horn erupting from behind you. Only, this time, there is nowhere to run. Yes, you could easily outrun them, but to where? You have long left the safety of the forest where there are endless places to safely conceal yourself once you’ve outrun them. But here is only open plains, followed by a sheer cliff face. There is a bridge across the river, in the maps you’ve seen, but those maps have also told you there’s a river where there’s nothing but a deathly ravine. Still, the bridge is supposedly about a kilometre south of where you now stand, and it’s your only hope. But will you be able to run that far in this state?

The ravine hovers on the edge of your vision, out towards the west, and you can now make out the hulking forms of the Saishta mounts, as their hunting party makes its slow, arrogant prowl towards you. The mounts of Saishtas do not run- they believe that persistence will allow them to eventually capture any prey. Eventually, all targets must tire, or reach the end, and that is when the Saishta can make the kill. They seem confident that that’s the situation the three of you are in now. You could flee, but if you give away that your destination is the river (or ravine?), you’ll never be able to safely see it, for they will guard it until the end of time.

“Sssurrender!” They call, now barely a hundred metres away.

“We’ll have to fight.” You announce to your companions, who both whip their heads around to glare at you with incredulity.

“Are you crazy?” Jungkook cries.

You clench your teeth as you slip into a familiar stance, holding up your arms as you prepare to fight.

“It’s our only option.” You point out, wincing as your shoulder protests at the stance you are currently in.

Jin takes one look at you and the advancing Saishtas and then he does possibly the most unexpected thing he could have done.

He throws you over his shoulder like you are a sack of potatoes and legs it.

“This way!” Jungkook encourages, zooming southwards towards where you know the bridge is.

“Jin!” You cry in protest, but he doesn’t respond. “Jin, stop! I was going to fight them!”

“No!” Jin snaps. “You were going to die. Or at least, you were going to try to and this time I’m not letting you.”

You stop struggling, slumping against his back.

“Not again.” Jin promises. “You won’t get hurt again. ‘I won’t stop and think while you’re in danger.’” He tells you, echoing your earlier words to him. For some reason, it leaves you unable to retort. “Now if I set you down, will you run with me, or will you do something stupid?”

You purse your lips in annoyance, trying to hold yourself stable as you flop around on Jin’s shoulder. You can see the Saishta making their slow, confident prowl behind you. They won’t shoot any more arrows at this proximity- after all, their aim is to capture you, not kill.

“I’ll run.” You silently agree. Jin gives you absolutely no warning as he practically flings you back onto the ground, grabbing your hand as he tugs you on in a full-on sprint.

“We’re almost there!” Jungkook cries, zooming slightly ahead of the two of you. Ahead, the great stone structure that comprises the great bridge that can carry you to safety on the other side of the ravine. You swallow your desperate, heaving breaths, ignoring the way your weakened body protests at the exertion. If you can just get to the bridge, there’s a forest on the other side of the river. The three of you can easily conceal yourselves there, and then come back under the cover of night and investigate why there’s a ravine here instead of a river.

The ground firms beneath you as it transitions from soft, loamy soil to a firm, well cut stone path. An arrow whizzes just past your ear and bounces off the stone path- a warning shot from the pursuing hunting party.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the three of you reach the edge of the bridge. The ravine is huge, and the bridge stretches ahead of you.

And then it sounds. Another hunting horn, a sound that will probably haunt you for the remainder of your days. But this one is from the opposite side of the bridge, where you are fleeing to.

Jin’s footsteps slow alongside yours, and Jungkook’s frantic buzzing becomes a slow, confused flutter as the three of you gradually draw the same conclusion.

You’re trapped. There are Saishtas awaiting you on either side of the bridge. No matter which way you try to break through, you will have to fight through them. No wonder they were so confident they could catch you.

“We’ll have to fight.” You breathe, trying to slow your exhausted, rapid breathing. Jin is soaked with sweat and even Jungkook seems flushed with the exertion of your desperate sprint.

“We can’t.” Jin reminds you, out of breath and still gripping onto your hand so hard it hurts. “You’ll die.”

“We’ll die if they capture us too!” You point out. You can now see the Saishtas on both ends of the bridge, closing in on the three of you like a pack of hunting dogs. “I’m so sorry Jin- this is all my fault! It’s not even a river- it’s some kind of ravine! I dragged us all the way here for nothing.”

“Jin!” Jungkook calls, but you ignore him, too caught up in the realisation of what you’ve done.

“He told me nature doesn’t change but that was stupid! Of course it changes- it’s been 1000 years and I just believed like an idiot that the river would still be here.” You cry, tears flowing down your face.

“Jin!” Jungkook calls, and this time, Jin claps free his hand over your mouth to stop your desperate monologuing.

“What now?” Jin demands of the small pixie. The pixie in question bites his lip and looks from side to side at the Saishtas who watch you almost lazily across the length of the bridge. They have all the time in the world, after all- where can the three of you go except over the edge of the bridge, where you will surely meet your demise?

“‘The river loves those who take the plunge.’” Jungkook recites, gesturing out to the endless, gaping ravine behind you.

You stare in confusion, but understanding dawns in Jin’s eyes as he leans over the low stone wall and stares down at the bottomless pit. He goes white and his hand tightens on your own to the point you are wincing with pain.

“(Y/N),” Jin calls, not lifting his gaze from the ravine. “Do you trust me?”

You blink, glancing over at the Saishtas who draw closer and closer with each moment. You’re not sure why he’s asking this now of all times, but your answer still comes easily.

“With my life.” You answers solemnly. He glances at you, surprised by your words, before his gaze softens and he smiles weakly at you. Then, he releases your hand and slowly he lifts himself up onto the stone wall.

“Then take the plunge.” He tells you, holding his hand out to you.

Your eyes widen as you realise what he’s trying to do. You glance at Jungkook, who merely nods at you, and then at the Saishtas who chatter in confusion at Jin’s actions.

And finally, you look up at Jin, into the eyes of the man you love, and you know that even if it’s crazy, you really do trust him with your life.

He tugs you up onto the wall and pulls you close, cradling your head in the palm of one hand and wrapping his other arm around your waist to hold you close. It reminds you of when you had arrived in this realm. He’s always held you like this, you realise. Like you are something precious to him, something he could never bear to lose.

You lift your gaze to him and meet his eyes, filled with fear, and he smiles. The Saishtas realise what is happening right as Jin takes a step backwards, off the edge of the bridge.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the two of you plummet down into the ravine below, Jungkook in close pursuit.

The last thing you hear before the darkness swallows you up is the desperate, furious roars of the Saishtas, thwarted once more.

When you come to, it is on a slightly damp, sandy surface. Jin is still unconscious next to you, with an arm thrown protectively over your waist. As you sit up, his arm slides off you, and you move away, taking in your surroundings.

You’re on a sandy riverbank- dark, inky waves lap at the surface in what is largely a calm, but dark river.

Overhead, you can see the clear, starry sky peeking at you through the jagged crack exposed by the top of the ravine. The river before you catches small flashes of starlight, but otherwise the area is largely dark.

That is, until a torch beam lands on you and you are nearly blinded by the sudden, intense light.

“Ow!” You cry out, unable to see who is on the other side of the beam.

“Sorry!” Jungkook hastily apologises, struggling to hold up the weight of your pompompurin torch. “I was looking for something.”

You rub at your eyes, which are now streaming with tears.

“Looking for what?” You ask, when your vision is finally cleared enough to make out Jungkook’s outline in the meagre lighting. Jungkook is silent for a moment, before hoisting the torch up even though it’s larger than him and directing it at the wall.

“This.” He says, and then he turns the light on.

You don’t know what you were expecting with Jungkook’s actions, but what you find is dozens of inscriptions along the cliff wall. Some are deeply engraved, and some are mere scratches, but they all seem to have different messages.

“What... what is all this?” You question in wonder.

“Messages.” Jungkook answers. He turns to look at you, dropping the torch into your hand so that you can freely exam the numerous inscriptions. “That’s what people come to the river of stars to do. To leave a message that will last through all of time.”

You blink and turn to look at the river behind you. It just looks like a normal river, albeit at the bottom of a ravine. But there’s no glowing plants, and if you hadn’t just plummeted off the edge of a bridge, you wouldn’t even know there was a river.

“This... isn’t what I expected, when I pictured this place.” You finally say. “How did we survive that fall, Jungkook?”

When you turn to look at Jungkook, he is gazing out across the river with an almost forlorn look upon his face.

“Well, you’ve probably guessed this isn’t a normal river.” Jungkook says. “It’s actually got special magical properties- that’s how those glowing plants are able to grow here. And how you were able to survive the fall- this place is so filled with magic that amazing things can happen, like people plummeting hundreds of feet and surviving the fall, or beautiful, rare plants growing. Or rare mythical creatures being born.”

Jungkook turns to you and fans his arms out on either side of him, gesturing at the space around him.

“I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time. This river has another name, (Y/N).” He tells you. “It’s known as Gebulfen, the birthplace of the pixie. This is where I was born.”

“Where you were born?” Jin groans, sitting up and rubbing at his forehead. Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the guardian in question.

“Is there an echo here? Why are you repeating what I just said?” He pouts. But he zooms over to Jin and lands on his outstretched knee. “Good work though. I wasn’t sure you’d work out what I meant when I told you that old saying, but you did!”

“You could have just said it outright.” Jin grumbles, hoisting himself to his feet. His gaze briefly flickers over you, assessing for injuries.

“Then the Saishtas would have worked out we were planning to jump.” Jungkook shrugged. “The only reason we had as much time as we did was because they thought we had nowhere to go.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that.” Jin grumbles, lifting his gaze to where you can just make out the outline of the great stone bridge you had plummeted from. “I guess they probably think we are dead now. Maybe it’ll be easier to get home.”

Home... that’s the next step of the journey for you. Jin’s words trigger the revelation for you- you’ve reached the end of your journey. You’ve finally made it to the River of Stars, like you’ve dreamed about for so many years. You stare in bewilderment across the smooth, dark surface of the river, taking in the soft sounds of the rushing water.

Gebulfen... the pixie birthplace. You had never heard that name before, nor had Jungkook ever chosen to share any information with you about his life in this realm.

“Are you disappointed?” The pixie in question asks, hovering close to your ear so that the rush of air from his wings tickles your ear. He flutters around to face you, before leaning in close and smiling. He hovers in the space between your eyes so that you have to go cross-eyed to focus on him. “That there’s no lights?”

“Ayla said there wouldn’t be.” Jin says, coming up to stand level with you. “I didn’t want to believe her, but it looks like-“

“Not so fast,” Jungkook hastily corrects Jin, fluttering forward to hold his tiny hands over Jin’s mouth so that he can’t talk anymore. “Ayla was incorrect. I can’t blame her, because it’s been over a thousand years since anyone has remembered the truth of this river. The lights do exist. But the plants only light up in response to a special kind of magic.”

“What magic?” You ask, unable to hold back your curiosity. You had come all this way to see the river lights, after all. Jungkook smiles, releasing Jin so that he can flutter up to you.

“I’ve always known you didn’t listen in your tutoring classes as a child because you didn’t know how I was born.” He tells you, instead of telling you what magic needs to be performed to see the lights. “Pixies are born of wishes, and they come to life at this very river. And our purpose... is to see the wish that birthed us come through.”

“What does that have to do with the river ligh-“ you protest but Jungkook cuts you off.

“Hush. I’m getting there. That’s what the plants respond to. Pixie magic.” He finishes his explanation. “Not my silly illusory spells, but real, ancient, powerful pixie magic.”

“So, to see the lights, and for (Y/N) to be able to go home, we... we have to grant whatever wish you were born to fulfill?” Jin asks, having always been a bit quicker than you to put things together. Jungkook nods, shooting two finger guns at the two of you playfully.

“Bingo!” Jungkook cries cheerfully. “You’re smarter than you look! Perhaps there’s use for you yet.”

An odd feeling fills you at Jungkook’s words, however. You’ve known the pixie for a long time. Despite his best efforts to appear constantly unbothered and joking, there’s a lot that Jungkook hides behind a smile. Like his longing to be human... his loneliness... the fact that there are hopes and dreams he’s always longed to fulfil but knows he never can. Jungkook has always hidden behind a smile and right now he’s hiding again.

“What... what are you hiding?” You ask. Jungkook looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before he quickly conceals the expression.

“Shouldn’t you ask me what wish I need to grant? So that you can see the lights?” He points out. You shake your head, stepping in close, but Jungkook moves backwards, out of reach. His posture is now defensive, and you know, more certainly than ever, that Jungkook is hiding something. Why else would he not have mentioned the wish he was born to fulfil, in thirteen years of knowing you? Why is he only telling you the truth of Gebulfen now, after an entire journey travelling to see it?

“Jungkook...” you say softly, your voice barely audible above the rush of the river. He deflates at the soft, concerned tone of your voice. You hold your hands out to them, and he lands in them.

“I’ve always been really happy being with you, (Y/N).” Jungkook says, as you raise him so that he is eye level with you. He stretches out a hand and rests it against the tip of your nose. “With you, Taehyung... with your mother... even with that big oaf and his family over there. It’s been really fun. Even if I had to live in the human realm, I’ve always had friends. And I know you guys care a lot about me. So... I was never brave enough to bring up my wish. I wanted to stay with you guys, and to keep having fun. To keep learning to dance off YouTube, and to keep bringing your houseplants to life when they died... I liked stealing the cookies from your upstairs neighbour when she left the room and I liked swapping Jin’s shoes around before he left for work in the morning-“

“I knew that was you, you little twerp-“ Jin cries in outrage, but you silence him with a glare before turning your attention back to Jungkook. For some reason, he suddenly seems small and fragile in your hands in a way he never really has before.

“I knew... a part of me was always afraid that when I granted my wish, it would be goodbye.” He confesses, and for the first time in his entire life, a tear trickles down Jungkook’s face. You can only stare in bewilderment, barely processing his words.

“Goodbye?” You echo. Jungkook nods, with a teary smile.

“I don’t know what happens, to a pixie who has granted a wish. I’ve tried to research it- I’ve had Taehyung bring me back books from this realm, and I’ve studied the history. But in the entire history of this realm, of my race... there’s no mention of what happens to us after. There’s no pixie settlements or communities. There’s no monuments to our names... there’s nothing. It’s like we... it’s like we vanish.” He confesses, and the tears are coming full force. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I should have granted this wish years ago but I was scared that I-“

“You might die?” You fill in for him. Jungkook hesitates for a moment before nodding.

“I don’t know.” He says. “There’s no pixie manual. I just know that I have to grant the wish and then-“

“Screw the wish!” You cry, cutting him off. Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“What?” He asks. You release him, stepping back and gazing around the ravine.

“Screw the wish.” You repeat, now searching for an echo. “Why risk your life? Why would I want you to risk your life? If you don’t know what happens if you grant the wish, then we’ll just never grant the wish and you’ll be fine-“

“(Y/N),” Jungkook calls sternly, zooming so that he’s in front of you. “I have to grant the wish.”

“Why?” You cry, and you realise there are tears sliding down your face. Jin watches the whole exchange in silence. “Why do you have to grant the risk? Why do we have to risk you vanishing? Why would you go that far over a stupid river?”

Jungkook smiles gently, reaching up one arm to wipe away the fat tears that spill down your face- it soaks the entire arm of his jacket.

“It was your father’s wish.” He tells you gently, still smiling the whole time.

You feel like the world around you freezes. Like for a moment, you heart stops beating and the world stops turning. You stare, frozen in shock, as Jungkook continues.

“He came here when you were first born. It’s a tradition for the Qu’var to journey to this river when they want to leave a message that will withstand the test of time. The river, and the unique magic that flows here, will protect it. But anyone who comes here has the river magic in them. And when those people make an earnest wish, from the bottom of their heart, then a pixie is born in this river. And your father, in his dying moments, many, many years after coming here, wished with all his heart that he could have shown you this place. That he could have shown you the message he wrote to his baby daughter. And that’s how I was born.”

“It’s not fair.” You sob, crying in full now. Jin is silent- he chooses not to step in. This isn’t about him, after all. “Why did he have to do that? Why could he have just lived and shown me himself? Why do I have to lose you too? Why can’t we just never see the message and then you can stay?”

“Because of the spell.” Jungkook reminds you. “You can’t go home until you see the dancing lights because of the charm I put on you. Do you remember?”

More tears spill down your face as you remember the spell in question. You had thought at the time, that it was Jungkook just trying to force you to get over yourself. You had believed him when he said he’d cast it so that you couldn’t chicken out of something you wanted to do. But you realise now why he cast that spell- it was so that he couldn’t chicken out. So that, no matter what, he’d grant his wish and get you to see that message.

“We’ll stay here. Jin can tell my mum what happened, and we can live out the rest of our days here!” You plead, desperate. “Then you don’t have to-“

“(Y/N).” Jungkook comes in close and presses on your cheek, until you are facing the cliff wall with all the inscriptions on it. Then he flutters over to the discarded torch, heaving it up in his arms with a huff, and holding it out to you. “It’s ok. It’s really ok. I want this. I’ve had my fun with you guys, but it’s not like I’ve really been living a proper life like this. The only people I can talk to are guardians, and they’re so scattered across the human realm. I spend my days watching YouTube videos and talking to moths and waiting for you guys to come home from work. I’ve lived this life as much as I can, but now it’s your turn. I want you to live a full and happy life, and for you to have a family and grow old in the human realm. I don’t want you to be trapped here with me so that I can live half a life for the rest of your days.”

“But,” you protest tearily. “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine.” Jungkook says with a beam. “But now it’s time.”

And then he pushes your arm until the torch lands on an inscription with handwriting you thought you’d never see again.

Your father, even back then, even on stone, has always had beautiful writing, like he could have been a calligrapher if he had the time or resources. Perhaps that’s why he wanted to leave you a written message. You step forward in disbelief until you can read the inscription, the words of the man you’ve missed so much.

(Y/N),

My precious, beautiful daughter.

Your mother didn’t want me to make this journey, but she eventually gave in because she knew how important it was to me.

I wonder what kind of situation we’ll read these words together in? What kind of woman will you grow up to be? Will you be married with children when I finally take you here? That little Seokjin is only a toddler but he’s already charming all the ladies in the village- maybe you’ll marry him! Or I hear Jihye is pregnant. Perhaps her child?

But the reason I wrote this is because I want you to know that no matter what happens, or what roads we walk down in the future, that I will love you and protect you with all of my heart. You are the most beautiful and precious thing I have ever laid my eyes on, and I hope you will always know that.

I love you. I hope that one day, even if it’s without me, that you get to see these words and know, that from before you were born, I have loved you.

Please, please, whatever situation you read these words in, please be happy.

From your father.

The inscription is rough beneath your fingers as you smooth your fingers over it. It hurts to see those words, to know the moments you can never have with your father because he’s gone. And you’ll never get him back. There’s no magic spells or special river or pixie magic that can bring him back to you.

But, for the first time, you find yourself smiling. Those memories don’t have to be painful. Because you fulfilled his wish- you’re happy. As you read these words, despite everything, you are happy. You have friends and family who love you and who you treasure beyond belief. And it took you a long time to realise it, but you’re so grateful. You’ll never get your father back, and you’ll never fill the hole that he left, but you can be happy. You can move forward with a smile on your face because that’s what he wanted.

Strong fingers wrap around your outstretched hand, and you turn to find Jin reading the words alongside you.

“He was a good man.” Jin tells you softly, and you smile at him. Jin looks like he has more to say, but he is interrupted by the brilliant glow coming from behind you.

You turn around and find Jungkook hovering before you. He glows brightly amidst the darkness of the ravine, almost as brightly as the stars overhead. And slowly, the river reacts too. One by one, bursts of light in different, brilliant colours appear and race down the length of the river, like bright, shooting stars. “The dancing river”, one of its many names, suddenly makes sense, as the lights zip and glide along the surface of the water.

“You did it!” Jungkook cries, and his smile is brighter than anything you’ve ever seen. You scramble forward, but the glow intensifies, and a brilliant light wall springs up between you and Jungkook.

“No!” You cry. “Please! Don’t go, Jungkook. We still have so much to do together! Please!”

“Be happy, (Y/N).” He calls and then the light brightens until you can see nothing but pure white.

And then it goes dark. In the absence of light, you can’t see anything before you. Jungkook is gone- he’s gone. Your best friend, your constant, pesky companion, is gone.

You fall to your knees, sinking into the soft, damp sand, sobbing hysterically.

“Jungkook.” You cry, your eyes squeezed shut. “Jungkook!”

Your friendship with Jungkook has always been a funny one. You first met him in the dingy room of a motel your mother had managed to book into, those first few nights in the human realm. You hadn’t been able to sleep- the air was uncomfortable and dry and felt leeched of the warm, buzzing magic that had been your constant companion.

You’d snuck out of the room that night and wondered onto the rooftop. Even the stars are dull, in the human realm, and for some reason it had hurt to see that. You’d gazed up into the sky, tear streaming down your face when a voice had sounded beside you.

“What are you looking at?” The little voice had asked.

The rest is history. You’d attempt to swat Jungkook, thinking him to be a mosquito hybrid, one of the weird creatures of this new realm. But he hadn’t been. He was a pixie. And from there, Jungkook had never really left your side. At night, he would sleep on your pillow beside you. When you’d gotten your own room, you’d made a little doll house for him to sleep in, but he’d always slept by your side. He would come with you to school, nestled in your pocket. Some days he’d take some space, but it had reached the point where you can barely remember spending time without him.

And now… could he really be gone? How can he? What does life even look like without him? You can’t fathom it.

You don’t know how long you sit there crying hysterically for, but eventually you feel warm, strong arms wrap around you. It must be Jin, comforting you through the pain of losing your best friend. You bring your fingers up to grip at the material of his shirt.

“(Y/N)!” Jin cries in alarm. But it’s not coming from the proximity you’d expect, considering that he’s currently holding you. No, his voice is coming from somewhere behind you.

Slowly, you blink your eyes open, and the sleeves of the jacket are not the sleeves of Jin’s jacket. Nor do the arms holding you belong to him. Slowly, you trace the arms up to the shoulders, and then you meet the face of the person holding you.

It’s Jungkook. But at the same time... it’s not Jungkook. Jungkook was a tiny pixie, with iridescent wings like a dragonfly. With a tiny, round face. He was the size of your hand.

But the person who holds you is human. There are no pixie wings in sight, and he’s the same size as you- no, he’s even bigger. He rivals Jin’s size.

But the face is unmistakeably Jungkook. You’d know those round, doe eyes anywhere.

“J-Jungkook?” You question softly. He pulls away and nods, staring at his palms in confusion like he’s never seen them before. “W-what happened?”

“I... I don’t know.” He answers, running his hands over himself. He’s wearing the same clothes as before, and he looks exactly the same as he always has, just... human sized.

“I... I’m human?”

“It must be the effect of granting the spell.” Jin calls, edging closer so that he can examine Jungkook with wonder. “Maybe... maybe the reason there’s no record of any pixies after they grant the wishes... is because they stop being pixies?”

Jungkook can only stare in confusion.

“Isn’t your dearest wish to be human? To be able to talk to people and make friends and form human bonds?” Jin continues to reflect. “Maybe... maybe the outcome of a pixie granting a wish... is that they get their deepest wish granted?”

Jungkook just stares with a bewildered expression, glancing over his shoulders for wings that aren’t there. He then scrambles over to the edge of the river, staring in wonder at the human reflection that stares back, from the normal, rounded ear tips to the lack of wings.

“I’m human?” He questions. Tears fill your eyes as you realise that what Jin is saying is true.

“You’re human!” You agree. “Jungkook! You’re human!”

His whole face lights up in excitement.

“I’m human! Oh my goodness! I’m human! I can go to dance classes! I can study in college! I can get a job! I can... I can...” his expression darkens with mischief and that’s the only warning you get before he hooks an arm around your neck and gives you the most painful noogie of your life. “I can get my revenge.”

Needless to say, the aftermath of such a transformation is absolutely chaotic, but somehow, you can’t bring yourself to be mad. Jungkook goes after Jin next, and as Jin flees for his life, you find yourself smiling, despite everything.

Please be happy, is what your father had pleaded, in the magic of this mystical river.

I am, dad. Is what you answer from the bottom of your heart in the magic of the river.

Because you are.

#jin x reader #seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #castlebangtan #thebtswritersclub #writing

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