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fortheloveoffanfic · 2 years

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The Holiday Arrangement

Andy Barber x Reader

Author's Note: I have not been even remotely good at getting back to all the love and engagement that this has received, both in the replies and reblogs, but its so appreciated and they've made writing and posting this fic so much more fun! Summary: When co-parenting during the holidays becomes difficult to navigate, Y/n brings a proposal to her ex-husband, Andy; spend Christmas together- for the sake of their daughter. Their already complicated arrangement becomes even more messy new memories dredge up buried feelings. Masterlists Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter Summary: When a trip to see Santa Claus at the mall goes awry, it puts things into perspective for Andy. Warnings- Angst

The next Monday With just three weeks until Christmas, school out and countless people already on vacation, the only mall in the heart of Newton was packed. It didn’t help that Santa was supposed to be there either. They’d done everything right; woken up at seven, left home at eight and had gotten to the mall by nine- before it was even open- and still, it had taken them more than an hour to get a parking spot. It would have appeared that everyone else had the same idea- get there early to beat the crowd.

By the time they’d secured a spot, at least fifteen minutes away from the main entrance, Y/n could tell that Andy was a little miffed- he’d always been a little too impatient to deal with traffic. Though, despite his obvious irritation, he’d kept his cool, never wanting to show his frustration in front of their daughter, who’d been practically bouncing off walls since she’d awoken that morning. To say she was excited about seeing Santa would have been an incredible understatement.

“Can we go see him now?” Were Grace’s first words the minute the trio set foot in the mall, and she looked almost comical as she jumped up and down excitedly while all bundled up in a black parka with forest animal drawings all about it and the faux-fur lined hood pulled over her dark head, almost entirely covering her face.

“We have to line up first,” Y/n explained, dropping to her knees in front of Grace so she could help her take off her purple gloves and unzip the coat to reveal her cute, warm but picture ready outfit underneath; her favorite blue sweater with a woolen owl stitched onto the front and thick leggings. “Then you can see Santa. Got it?”

“Got it!” Grace cheered, still brimming with enthusiasm. Upon standing, Andy took one of Grace’s hands while Y/n took the other, both of them leading her to the escalators that would take them to the upstairs atrium, where Santa was supposed to be.

There was already a line when they got there, with about twenty other kids in front of Grace waiting their turn, and out of the corner of her eyes, Y/n noted the drop of defeat in Andy’s shoulders; each kid had been allotted ten minutes to tell Santa what they wanted and to take a couple pictures which meant that if every child used up their time to the very minute, they’d be looking at least a two hour and forty minute wait. For a man who’s patience was a little as Andrew Barber’s, that was two hours and twenty minutes too many.

“You can walk around or go get coffee or something if the wait is too long,” Y/n offered after about fifteen minutes.

“And miss taking a picture of my little bunny on Santa’s lap? No way,” he chuckled, tapping the pad of his pointer finger to Grace’s nose, making her giggle and grab at his hand. His words prompted a broad grin from Y/n that was hard to fight; a year ago, he wouldn’t have even joined them at the mall, especially if he knew he’d be standing in line for almost three hours so his sudden change of heart was a welcome surprise. She didn’t think Andy noticed the warmth that had gathered in her eyes at his simple profession, and not wanting to chance him seeing it, she turned away for a minute, fixing her gaze on a clothing store to her left.

After ten minutes had passed and they’d only moved one place ahead when Andy’s phone rang loudly, the sound rising above the Christmas carols wafting from the speakers fitted to the ceiling. Glancing at the screen, he grimaced before flashing Y/n and Grace an apologetic look. “Its my boss. I’ll be five minutes- ten tops,” he promised,” letting Grace’s hand in favor of gesturing with his open palm.

“Daddy,” Grace protested with a pout as he started stepping away.

“I’ll be right back,” he offered again, swiping to answer the call, leaving them both standing in line as he started walking a little way up the pathway, probably in search of somewhere quiet to handle whatever his boss wanted him to.

Y/n knew that she shouldn’t have been upset, he’d been completely present up until then and it wasn’t like he could control when his boss called anyway, but she couldn’t help but feel like the phone call was just the beginng. Grace’s doe-eyed look of disappointment didn’t help either. “Daddy’s gonna be right back,” she gave her daughter’s hand a little squeeze. Grace didn’t respond, instead nodding stiffly before starting to pick at the hem of her sweater.

Sighing as they took a step up when the rest of the line did, Y/n fixed her eyes on the direction that Andy had disappeared off to, practically willing him to reappear. The longer he took, the more she worried that the phone call wouldn’t be the end of interruption. She was so preoccupied with manifesting Andy’s reappearance that she hadn’t even noticed the person behind her trying to call her attention until they tapped her shoulder.

“Huh-oh my God,” she grinned upon turning slightly to see who it was. “Peter, hey.” They worked at different departments at the same company; she worked in finance while he was in accounting. Their paths crossed often though, and after word of her divorce had spread among her friends group at work, she had noticed Peter discreetly trying to get closer. He wasn’t very forward with his advances, and while Y/n did think he was sweet and attractive she was grateful for his restraint; she didn’t think she was ready to date yet anyway.

“I didn’t know you had kids,” she glanced at the children he’d brought with him; a little boy about Grace’s age and a toddler on his hip.

“I don’t,” he ducked his head bashfully, allowing a loose, dark curl to fall over his brow, “They’re my sister’s,” he lifted his head again, “This is Jack,” he introduced the boy, “And Mae. She had to work,” he began while Y/n reached out for the little girl’s hand “And their dad’s…..you know,” he shrugged indifferently and the look on his face was enough to tell her that the children’s after, for whatever reason, was out of the picture.

“I see you’re here with my favorite coworker,” setting the younger girl down for a minute, Peter crouched so he could have a couple words with Grace, who he’d first met at their office’s ‘take your child to work day’ earlier that year, another time when he’d come over to fix the kitchen sink and finally a couple other times after he’d driven Y/n home when her car was down- it went without saying that he and Grace were pretty acquainted.

“So,” he leaned in conspiringly, “What’re you gonna ask Santa for?”

“I can’t tell you,” Grace giggled, former mood forgotten, “Its a secret.”

“Oh come on,” he enticed dramatically, “I won’t tell,” he winked.

Slapping her hands to her mouth to hide a broad grin, Grace shook her head, barely containing the loud laughter that slipped past her small fingers. In return, Peter chuckled, “This one’s good at keeping secrets,” he declared as he stood again, picking Mae up so he could resume his hold on Jack’s hand. “This line’s crazy, huh?”

“Yeah,” Y/n agreed, “We’ve been here for about forty minutes,” she sighed, “My feet already killing me,” she chortled quietly, glancing down at her feet clad in swede, heeled boots- probably not the best choice for the day.

Peter laughed too, “Maybe we can grab cocoa after these three get their Santa time?” He suggested, quickly adding, “So you can rest your feet and we can catch up,” even if it had actually only been two days since they’d last seen each other, “They already seem to be getting along,” he threw a glance and Grace and Jack, who’d started playing amongst themselves.

Her smile slipped for a second, Y/n didn’t think Andy would want to join her work friend for cocoa and they’d already planned to take Grace for pizza and then walk around for a bit after lunch anyway, and she was actually quite excited about their plans. “Actually-”

“Hey, sorry I took so long,” before she could turn Peter down, Andy returned, seeming a little frazzled and giving off the impression that he was in a hurry.

“Its fine,” she glanced at him as he touched the top of Grace’s head while looking between her and Peter. “Uh, Andy, you remember Peter?” When he furrowed his brows, she explained further, “From work, you met him at the bar-b-que-”

“Right!” He remembered suddenly, “Peter the accountant,” he put out his hand for a quick, polite shake.

“And you’re Andrew the ex,” he joked lightly, though it didn’t seem to go over well with Andy, who clenched his jaw while retracting his hand. As he did, Andy’s phone beeped and he checked it quickly, letting out what she could only interpret as a frustrated sigh.

“Everything okay?” Y/n probed as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“Yeah, no, I just uh…..that was Lynn,” he cleared his throat and the look on his face made her anticipate his next words, “She wants me down at the office.”

Y/n scoffed, trying to keep her cool and maintain appearances in front of her friend, “Right now?”

Andy gestured defeatedly, dropping his arms at his side, “She says one of the legal assistants just got their hands on some surveillance footage and she wants me to go take a look at it.”

“And then do what?” Y/n huffed a dry chuckle, “The courts aren’t open till January.”

Realizing that anything further would lead to an argument in public, Y/n shook her head, “Just go,” she turned away, panning her hardened gaze to the floor more to her right.

She heard Andy sigh heavily, “I’m sorry,” he offered heavily as she blinked away unshed emotion, “I’ll be back for pictures,” he sounded earnest, but Y/n wasn’t prepared to hold her breath waiting for his return. “I gotta go, Bunny,” he offered Grace softly, and through her periphery, she saw him kissing their daughter’s forehead.

“But daddy, you can’t leave yet,” she protested, reaching for his hand. It broke her heart that he was doing it again; letting them down in favor of work. “We haven’t even seen Santa.”

When Y/n focused her attention on Grace and Andy again, he was bending to ruffle her hair as he promised, “I’ll be back before you do.”

“Promise?” She asked, big eyes hopeful.

Briefly, their eyes met, and Y/n hoped the edge in her gaze was enough to stop him from saying what he was going to. “I…..I’ll do my best,” he smiled tightly, giving her another kiss, that time on the cheek. “I’m really sorry,” he mouthed to Y/n before leaving again.

After he was gone, she and Peter stood in awkward silence, and she didn’t have to look at him to know that he was feeling bad for them. Anyone who’d heard the urgency in Andy's voice could tell that he wasn’t going to be back soon, besides it did seem to be a running theme with his work; one thing led to another, and then another. “Y/n, I-”

“You know what?” She straightened her back and shoulders, blinking quickly to clear her vision, “We’d love to get cocoa after this.”

That evening Just as Andy was turning off the stove, he heard a car pull up in front, and grabbing a dish towel off the counter, he hurried over to the living room window, getting to it just in time to see everything unfold. Peter getting out of the driver’s side of a silver Lexus, heading to the back door that faced the house just as Y/n got out of the front passenger seat. She’d texted him a couple hours earlier, when he was just about to leave the office, at first it was just a couple pictures of Grace with Santa Claus but afterwards she’d sent a short message letting him know that Peter would drive them home and she’d meet him there.

The guilt that had washed over him in that moment had been utterly overwhelming.

After Peter had helped Grace out of the car and the doors had been shut, he and Y/n hugged for a little longer than friends usually did and Andy felt a surge of jealousy join his mountain of guilt. It felt like he was watching his replacement move in on his family. Even after Peter had gotten into his car again, it lingered on the curb until Y/n opened the front door, letting Grace in first.

The sound of their footsteps beckoned Andy to the mouth of the hall, where he caught them wiping their feet off on the mat and Y/n helping Grace out of her parka, which was adorned with flecks of white. “Daddy!” She beamed and the minute Y/n took her hat off, Grace bounded towards him, seemingly unbothered by his failure to get back to the mall.

Y/n however was visibly pissed.

Feigning a groan, he lifted Grace off her feet, planting a big kiss on her cheek. His heart swoll a little when she held his face against hers for a moment, and in response, Andy hugged her a little tighter. “How was the mall Bunny?”

“It was great! I got to tell Santa what I wanted, we took pictures then we got cocoa,” and just when he thought she was done, Grace continued exuberantly, “And then we went to the arcade and Peter won me a snowman!”

The mention of him made Andy’s expression falter and he felt a pang in his chest; what kind of man took another someone else's family to the arcade?

The kind that stepped up when a father put everything else before his kid and the woman he claimed to love.

“Yeah?” Grace nodded, asking her mother for her snowman as the three of them entered the kitchen. From a large, brown shopping bag, Y/n produced a stuffed snowman, back bowler hat and red and green scarf making him look like the embodiment of a seasonal tune.

“His name is Fred Frosty!” She declared, offering the toy to Andy.

“Cool, how’d you come up with that?”

“Peter helped,” of course he did. Internally, Andy rolled his eyes; was the man determined to prove himself a better fit?

“Why don’t you go introduce Fred to Mr. Bear?” Y/n suggested when Andy finally set Grace down, and with a vigorous nod, Grace made a beeline for the staircase. As their little one disappeared out of earshot, Y/n moved over to the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room, setting down her handbag and two shopping bags.

“So Peter,” he broke the silence, letting jealousy get the better of him. He didn’t think it could be helped though; he screws up once and suddenly there’s another man there to fill his shoes.

“Don’t even start with that,” Y/n warned pointedly.

Andy scoffed, “Start with what?”

“‘So Peter’,” she mocked, “You,” she pointed angrily, “Were the one that said he’d be back before pictures. We spent 2 hours in line- I let Peter’s niece and nephew go before us, hoping you’d show up. But then suddenly it's over, another hour is gone and I don’t get as much as a text from you.”

Swallowing thickly, he ran a hand through his hair, “I got caught up-”

“Like you always do,” Y/n interrupted, “Its always work before us- before her.”

“That is not true,” he argued firmly, “Grace is always my first priority, you know that.”

Shaking her head, Y/n licked her lips, “She wasn’t today-”

“If I’d left that footage today, it would have gone to Neal- he would have gotten that case and my promotion,” Andy cut her off, “It’s just one day, she isn’t even upset,” even if he was, that was not the point. “She’s not even gonna remember that I wasn’t there.”

“Exactly, Andy; she’s not going to remember that you weren’t there, because she’s been going to see Santa every year since she was born and you’ve never been there. She’s not going to remember because to her this is normal. But every time you skip out on us for work, that’s another memory that you’re not a part of.” Tugging off her scarf, she made her way to the living room, draping the thick, plaid strip of fabric over the back of the recliner before starting to peel off her long, leather coat, briefly exposing the woolen inside as she did. “And you’re lucky right now you’re still this big hero in her mind,” she gestured widely with the maroon garment held in one hand, “To her, you can do no wrong and as long as you’re around more often than not, you can keep being that for her,” draping the coat over her scarf, Y/n paused, “But when one day, when she grows up and realizes that your job always comes first it is going to break her heart. She’s gonna look back at the pictures from today and remember that you said you’d come back but didn’t,” her voice broke at the end as fury turned to hurt.

At a loss for words as everything she said hit him, Andy half sat against the back of the sofa, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched forward a little and eyes fixed on the polished hardwood. He hadn’t thought of it like that; Grace was okay now, but one day she might find out that he broke his promises and let his work come first.

Maybe he was everything the divorce papers had made him out to be- the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

He didn’t know how to talk about his feelings, he didn’t even know how to focus on his family while he was on vacation.

“You’re right,” he elicited softly, hanging his head, “God, you’re so right.” Clasping his fingers together in front of himself, he moistened his lips and shook his head. “Its all my fault, just like you’ve been saying,” he huffed. He’d spent so long telling himself that he didn’t know where it had all gone wrong, that he had done everything he could to keep their marriage together, but the truth was that he hadn’t. Leaving them at the mall wasn’t an isolated incident; for Y/n’s birthday the year before. he'd been late to her party and then on their last Thanksgiving together, he’d let her and Grace go to her parents’ without him. He’d pushed Y/n away every time she got too close and guarded himself against her efforts to help him open up.

The click of her heels on the floor was the only indication of Y/n stepping closer that Andy registered. “You’re a good man, Andy,” she offered, tone as gentle as she reached over to place her smaller hand over his clasped ones, giving his fingers an affectionate squeeze, “I know that, I just want Grace to know that too.”

Andy sighed again, shifting his hands so Y/n’s would be sandwiched between his. “I screwed everything up, Y/n,” he wallowed, finally lifting his head. Unintentionally, their eyes met, hers were a little dim but Andy couldn’t tell if it was with sympathy or something else, but he did know that he hoped she could see the remorse in his. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t the man you two deserved,” he elicited a heavy breath, “I’m sorry that drove you away.”

Y/n frowned and quickly glanced down at their joined hands, though she made no move to separate them. “Its not too late,” she smiled sadly, matching his gaze once more. Her words linger for a moment, sparking an ember of hope in the center of his chest- until she doused it. “For Grace,” she stuttered, “Its not too late for Grace. You know? She still thinks you’re…..a kind, intelligent, compassionate man. Even if you don’t know how to show it.”

He mulled over her words for a minute, “She thinks that?” Y/n nodded and he hesitated before asking, “What else does she think?”

Y/n thought on his question for a moment, “She thinks…..that- she knows that another man isn’t gonna love her the way you do. She knows that….she’s not gonna love another man the way she loves you.”

“Grace?” He probed, knitting his brows.

“Grace,” Y/n reaffirmed, clearing her throat and hastily pulling her hand away. Rubbing her palms anxiously on the sides of her jeans, she explained, clearly flustered, “Cause um….no one loves a little girl like her daddy. And to her you’re irreplaceable,” then, apparently finding her explanation lacking, Y/n added, “Because you’re her father.”

Smiling tightly, he nodded, “I got it.” His heart dropped when Y/n turned away to head upstairs and get Grace ready for dinner; of course it would always mean the world to him that Grace looked up at him, but for a split second, he’d thought that there was still hope for him and Y/n. But she’d made sure to draw a hard line, making it exceedingly clear that any chance of their reconciliation had been taken off the table when they signed the papers.

Tagging: @royalwritersoftheuniverses @patzammit @funfickgirl22 @talesofadragon @what-is-your-plan-today @pono-pura-vida @mdpplgtz03 @shipheart @marvelmenwhore @itschrismasevans @findthebeautyinbreakdowns @bemysugarbean @wintasssoldier @elrw24 @imyourbratzdoll @chasingsnowintheshadows @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @sarahdonald87

#chris evans #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #cevans #the holiday arrangement

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fanaura · 2 years

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RAW DOGGING WITH JAKE. ALL I REQUEST

YOU ASK AND YOU SHALL RECIEVE

jake x omaticayan reader NSFW

a/n: DO I EVEN NEED TO TELL Y'ALL THAT THIS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SAFE FOR WORK. i'm actually so glad you asked this bc i neeeedddd to practice before i write the real thing iykyk. PLEASE FORGIVE ME THIS IS ABSOLUTELY FOUL i wrote this in half an hour at 7am in the morning. ENJOY ❤️

oh god i'm nervous OKAY BYE

"tell me you want it," he took a step toward towards me, and it was all i could not to take a step back in fear he could smell my body. my body that was so hot, so aching with desire.

trust me, i am just as shocked as the next person. i never even thought i had a chance, not with Toruk Makto - mighty warrior and savior of the People - hah, no chance in the world.

"jake- i- uh-" i stuttured, breathless, his strong chest so close to my own it felt like a wall enclosing in on my lungs.

his face was so relaxed, the only sign that he felt anything was that his usually relaxed mouth was now pursed into a thin line, eyes flicking from my eyes to my trembling mouth.

he lifted his right hand to cup my neck, snaking into my hair. the gesture alone was so intimate it had my heart skipping a beat. his grip got suddenly stronger in my hair and tugged on it, causing my head to jolt back and forcing me to bare my neck to him. i gasped a little, but held the sound from coming out of my mouth. I was trying so hard to not be affected by him, even when he dipped his head and began lightly running his nose and mouth over the skin of my neck. I was on fire. Goosebumps spotted all over my my body from the touch, and my thighs rubbed together, desperate for any form of friction.

With a deathly slow, he repeated himself: "Tell me. You want it," his breath was hot against my skin and he gave my hair another sharp tug, drawing a whimper and a jumble of words from me.

"yes, Jake! yes, please god. I want it," i was panting now, and he smirked as he brought his lips just inches from mine, we were touching. All i wanted to do was go the extra centimeter forward so our lips were actually making contact, but his grip on my hair was unmoving.

"tell me how much you want it," he said, literally speaking onto my lips now, his breath and mine mingling together.

his free hand came up on the small of my back, tracing lazy circles. i shuddered. my whole body was burning.

i opened my mouth ever so slightly - on his mouth - to say "why don't you feel it for me?" i snatched his free hand from my back and placed it in between my legs, where he would inevitably find me dripping for him. the heat of his hand cupped my vagina underneath my loincloth, i began slightly moving my hips to feel something, anything, from him.

jake chuckled darkly, "you're an impatient one, aren't ya" i only groaned deep in my throat as a reply.

"you're so wet, is this all for me?" he questioned me just as his fingers moved to my clit, again tracing lazy circles that drove me crazy.

"what do you think?" i said, impatient, moving my hips in time with his fingers. all of a sudden he placed pressure on that same spot and i couldn't hide my gasp as my knees buckled, only staying upright from his hand still tight in my hair. i watched as his biceps flexed.

"that's what i thought," he made the tiny distance between our faces, and his lips bruised mine. i pushed my tounge into his own mouth as he did the same, working in unison as his fingers started a fast and unyielding pace on my clit. he gave a slight grunt and i moaned in his mouth, unable to keep it in anymore.

"good girl," he said in between kisses. oh my god.

as i began to reach the peak of climax, he stopped, letting go of my hair and leaving me feel empty. "Lie down," he ordered. I obeyed, lying down on the patch of grass he signaled to.

he took off his loincloth in one fell swoop and got down on top of me his length halting at my wet entrance. he kissed me, deep and slow, his right hand grabbing both of my hands and putting them above my head, pinning them to the ground above. i arched my back.

"jake," i whimpered, arching my back.

"shh" he said, kissing me again just as he entered me. my whole body focused on that feeling, on him inside me. he eased into it, letting me get used to the thick length of him.

once he was fully inside, he moved slowly in and out, drawing a loud moan from he, his lips kissing my neck, biting it then kissing over the small hurt. my arms were now wrapped around his own neck, holding him so close to me, it was if i thought he would leave me here. i didn't want him to stop.

"mmm," he groaned again, louder than me. "you're so tight."

his movement was feverish now, moving in and out of me in an unrelenting pace. my moans didn't stop as i became closer and closer to climax. i removed one of my arms from his neck and put it right on my clit, rubbing it as he continued moving in me.

he knew what i was doing, bringing his own hand down the same spot, pushing mine out of the way. "i'll do that," he said in my ear.

I moaned so loud i thought Eywa would hear me and my pleasure. I was almost there, gripping onto Jake's neck like a lifeline as he maddened me with his fingers and him.

"jake!" i screamed, as i shuddered and shook in a reached climax. i continued to shake as he cotinued his pace now, moving in and out only a few seconds longer.

"god- jesus- fuck!" he said, kissing me wildly as he came in me.

we both lay there, panting.

#avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar fanfiction #HOLY FUCKING BALLS #fanaura replies #jake sully smut #jake sully x y/n #atwow imagines #atwow jake #daddy jake

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whump-me · 1 year

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Martyr, Chapter 9: True Believers

Chapter 9 of Martyr, a novel-length sci-fi whump story about a captured Martian rebel with a secret and the renowned interrogator who has waited a decade for the chance to break him. This series is best read in order. Masterpost here.

Contains: defiant whumpee, cold whumper, restraints, interrogation, verbal sparring, war crimes mentions

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Wraith

Isadora paused to draw in a long breath, then another. She sounded like she was breathing through a straw all of a sudden. Huh. Now that was interesting. She looked like she was actually having trouble getting herself to talk.

She was probably faking, of course. Isadora Pope didn’t have feelings, let alone show them to a prisoner. No, she just wanted him to think they were here to bare their souls to one another—as if they were two old friends sitting on a park bench late at night, staring up at the dome, sharing a bottle of something bitter and strong between them. As if anything could make him forget where he was.

On the other hand, she did have feelings—he had firsthand evidence of that. Firsthand, literally—his right one, the one she had kicked when she had lost control.

He leaned in attentively as she took another delaying breath. Whether she was faking or not, this was going to be interesting.

“I was a young soldier back then,” she said. “Earth was my first assignment. I drew the short straw—I didn’t want to be here. No one did. I wanted to make a difference by fighting the rebels in Russia who were burning their own cities to spite the Unified Earth forces—not babysit a bunch of factory workers.”

Babysitting. Was that what they called it? The only thing that stopped Wraith from tightening his hands into fists was that he knew exactly how much pain it would cause him. Instead, he tightened his jaw until he could practically hear the bones straining against each other.

“It was sheer dumb luck that I wasn’t in the right dome when it happened,” she said. “My commanding officer sent me to deliver a message halfway across the planet—or at least it seemed that way to me that day. I resented being used as a messenger. If there’s one job that feels more useless than guarding a factory door, it’s running a message clear across to the next dome like a cheap drone. So I went as slowly as I could. I suppose I thought I was making a point. I missed the train back, and to take the next one. It was halfway to the dome when it exploded.”

She swallowed. Her neck was tight. She didn’t look like Isadora Pope just then. She certainly didn’t look like a statue or a goddess. She looked… human. Like anyone who had seen too much—and that was everyone Wraith knew, these days. It made the lines of her face looked uncomfortably familiar.

It was an act.

“From where I was sitting, I had a great view,” she said, her voice bitter and raw where she had shown nothing but ice and stone before. An act. It had to be. “I saw buildings fly apart. I saw… people. Or at least pieces of them. I even thought I saw my commanding officer, but it was probably my imagination. It wasn’t like there was much to recognize. He was missing half his face.”

Wraith shook his head slowly. “Is this supposed to make me feel sorry for you? Because even if I believed this little sob story of yours, which I don’t, you’d have to do a lot better than that. You want war stories? I’ve got all kinds I could tell you. Like the time you murdered an old man for hanging anti-Earth posters in the tunnels. We took out the soldiers who did it. And by we, I mean I. I took care of both of them personally. Dropped them on your doorstep after.” He gave Isadora a jagged grin. “And in retaliation, Special Security killed everyone the man had been in contact with for the past six months, and all their families with them. You were in charge by then, weren’t you? You were the one who ordered it. So if you want to trade stories, be prepared to come up with a decade’s worth.”

“They sent me back to Earth,” said Isadora. “They said I needed to recuperate. Get therapy. No doubt rot away in some desk job for the rest of my life. I let them send me back, because when you’re a soldier, you do what you’re told. I took the six months. I did all the therapy, aced it with flying colors, until I had my clean bill of health in hand. And then…”

“And then you did what a soldier isn’t supposed to do,” Wraith guessed. “You objected to your orders. You asked to be sent back here, and then you asked again, and again, until they put you on a ship just to be rid of you. Can’t say I blame them.” He shook his head. “This place almost killed you. It’s only dumb luck that kept you alive. And practically the first thing you did was demand to come back. You’re one to talk about people who have more anger than sense.”

But he frowned, because while a mission of revenge made sense, it didn’t fit what he knew about Isadora Pope. Then again, all he knew came from her former prisoners, which meant they hadn’t been in much of a state to give reliable testimony. But in the short time he’d known Isadora personally, she hadn’t struck him as the vengeful type.

For all her talk of his crimes, for all she must have spent the past ten years wishing death on the leader of the rebellion, she hadn’t shown even the slightest temptation to vent a decade’s worth of anger on him. Not like that guard from his first day here. She had been coldly professional, even while breaking his fingers. When he had finally made her angry, it didn’t have anything to do with the long list of crimes in his file. It was because he had made her look bad.

Isadora let out a mirthless chuckle. “People like you see everything through the lens of anger, don’t you? You’re animals, letting the heat in your blood drive you this way and that, until it drives you to your own destruction. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t only a problem with your side. Every year, Earth sends me recruits brimming with the desire to avenge those who died. Some of them are very good at their jobs, even fresh out of training. It doesn’t matter—I always send them back. Anger is a dangerous master. Especially when you convince yourself it’s not the one in charge.”

“You missed one,” said Wraith, thinking of the beating he had taken.

“Pardon?”

“One of your vengeance-fueled recruits. He decided to take out his anger on me when I first got here. It’s a good thing his fear of you was stronger, or we might not be having this conversation right now.”

Her eyes flashed. “Don’t change the subject.”

There it was again—that small spark of heat in her cold eyes. He had done it again, poked her ego right in the soft squishy middle, and he hadn’t even really been trying. He smiled at her, just to let her know she had seen. Aloud, he only said, “If you didn’t come back for revenge, then why? I know it wasn’t for the weather.”

She went silent for a moment, and Wraith got the impression she was weighing her words carefully, trying to decide how open to be. That alone was surprising. Hadn’t she come prepared with all the lies she’d need? Was it possible she was actually telling him the truth?

When she spoke, her voice was strangely soft. “Purpose,” she said. “The thing I thought the military would give me. I wanted to be a part of something greater than myself. I want my life to mean something. But there isn’t much meaning in following orders and delivering messages. My therapist used to say sometimes tragedy opens a door in a person’s mind that lets them see what they were born for. In my case, it was true.”

If she hadn’t been Isadora Pope, if he hadn’t known she must be an accomplished liar, he would have thought she was giving him a genuine confession. Hell, he was halfway to believing it, even knowing what he knew. Something about the look in her eyes, the tone of her voice, spoke of an almost painful sincerity. It made him want to trust her, even though he knew there was nothing more dangerous in this world.

“So what’s your purpose, if not revenge?” he asked. “Seems to me there aren’t many other reasons to care so deeply about wiping us out.”

“From the beginning, Earth was careless about Mars. Everyone resented being here, and so no one approached the task of pacifying your planet with the necessary singleness of purpose. Myself included.” She shook her head. A few strands of hair flew across her face. She pushed them out of the way. “My purpose is to change that. I’m here because someone has to care what happens on this planet—care enough to give up everything to make sure what happened ten years ago can never happen again.”

Maybe it was the way her perfectly straight hair grew ever-so-slightly mussed when she shook her head. Or maybe it was how the severe lights overhead reflected off her eyes, which gleamed with raw conviction suddenly, making her look like she was lit from within. Whatever the trigger, another image popped back into his head, overlaid on top of the image of Isadora sitting in front of him. He saw Gabriel, sitting at his desk, his hair like a halo. And just like that, he knew why his gut wanted to trust her.

That conviction in her voice was Gabriel’s conviction. That glow in her eyes, which grew until it seemed to outshine the harsh light from above, was Gabriel’s inner fire. It triggered a reflexive warm glow in him, even though that was the last thing he wanted to feel in Isadora Pope’s presence. And along with that glow, he felt a familiar yearning, a pull just above his belly button—the longing that came from being just outside the circle of light, wanting in.

Wraith wasn’t a true believer. Not like Gabriel. The only inner fire he carried with him was of the type Isadora so reviled. Anger drove him, hot and bright and righteous. But it was not his master. And Gabriel was the reason for that.

It would have mastered him, back in those early days, if he hadn’t had Gabriel by his side. Oh, how he had hated Gabriel’s voice of reason, his soft words and gentle touches that cooled the fire in Wraith’s veins. But it had kept him alive.

He had come to appreciate the deep conviction that drove Gabriel. But he didn’t share it. He was grateful for that. If he believed the way Gabriel did, he would never have been able to do half the things he had done. Gabriel was all heart, and his heart still remembered how to do something other than burn. It was impossible to do what was necessary when you felt everything.

But he understood true believers, even if he wasn’t one of them. Ten years’ worth of late-night conversations with Gabriel would do that. Which meant Isadora had just handed him a powerful key.

He fought to keep himself from grinning like a madman. He didn’t want her to know what she had done. Not just yet.

He knew who Isadora Pope was now. He knew it the way he knew Gabriel—all the way down to his bones. And because he knew Gabriel’s secret wishes and hidden fears and darkest thoughts, it couldn’t be that hard to figure out all those things about Isadora. It was like that stuff in school he had barely paid attention to—given X, solve for Y. Where X was the man he loved, and Y was his worst enemy.

“So you see,” said Isadora, jolting him from his triumphant thoughts, “I understand you better than you think.”

At first, he didn’t understand how she was echoing his own thoughts back to him. But she wasn’t, of course. She thought she had the key to him. That because of who he was, because of his position in the rebellion, he shared those core convictions, that inner fire. Because how could someone lead a rebellion for ten years otherwise? How could he inspire people to follow him?

With any luck, she would never know the truth of that. What he had truly done for the rebellion. How he had ended up where he was.

But her assumptions could serve him well. She wanted him to play Gabriel, did she? He could play Gabriel. There was no one on this planet or any other that he knew better.

---

Tagged: @straight-to-the-pain @soheavyaburden @gala1981 @whumpacabra @sacredwrath @suspicious-whumping-egg @sonder35 @decahedron-crabclaw @seasaltandcopper

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#whump #whump writing #whump story #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Martyr #sci-fi whump #interrogation whump

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writingsofhubris-a · 2 years

Text

Cabinet Man - Ch. 5

The news reporters reported that I died [AO3] Rating: T WC: 2.2K | 17K Tags: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Slow Burn Fandom: Spider-Man (Movies - Raimi) Ship: Otto Octavius/Rosalie Octavius Disc: Ce, qu'on appelle une raison de vivre est en même temps une excellente raison de mourir. | What is called a reason for living is also an excellent reason for dying Otto Octavius, soon to be a doctor, knew his reputation preceded him in more ways than one. He’d all but written off marriage from a young age, until he saw a woman who’s flick of a hair, a rustle of skirts, took his attention firmly from the science he had so long been taken over his mind. [<<] | [>>]

Of all the things that Otto found himself comforted by, the drone of the city was one of them. Through his entire life, the silence of hills, the dirt that would fall onto his clothes, never seemed to draw him any further from the streets and chaos that rang through the brick buildings.

Otto rarely would take advice from those who were not his doctor, but at the urging of Curtis, he really couldn’t find a reason to deny the request. Going out to the country, allowing the reprieve for his mind, was just tantalizing enough for him to accept the advice. The stifling heat was getting to him in the midst of August, ideas and solutions to his problems compressed in oppressive humidity. Plus, Curt had paid for half of the trip, and Otto never turned his nose up at gifts. Doctor’s orders were orders, even if they weren’t always your personal psychian.

Otto walked up the well taken care of, stone steps, watching his footing for an uneven surface. The door at the top of the stairs was slightly ajar, the heat inside the building allowed it’s chance to exit the building. The man at the desk was clearly falling prey, eyelids half closed, lips parted to let soft puffs of air escape.

It wasn’t until he saw Otto that he straightened up again, lips now the pleasant smile all service workers would affect when faced with a customer.

“Good afternoon, sir. May I offer you assistance?”

“Doctor Octavius. I should have a room reserved for a week.”

“Very good, sir.” The man took the moments to look through his reservation book, before finding Otto. The process went considerably smoother than Otto had been fearing; his key was offered, and he was instructed to room 8, just around the corner. His luggage was deposited in his room before Otto could turn down any help. With no other reason occupying his thoughts, Otto walked around the grounds, allowing a mental map to build in his head.

The grounds were well contained, well manicured, perfect for a vacation unconcerned with the mundanity of city life. Shrubs were being attended to as he walked by, sharp shears softly snapping in the evening. The workers nodded their heads at him, before continuing their work. Over a crest of a hill, he fancied his eyes strong enough to see the smoke from the nearby village. The grounds sprawled larger than Otto had expected, much to Otto’s shock. To his knowledge, hydropathy was not a practice engaged in outdoors, but perhaps that was to account for those who designated the resort as a secret meeting ground. Otto couldn’t judge those who did, even he being taken in by the greenery. The spots of shade invited him for a nap, the rolling hills begged for a walk and contemplation.

But most surprising, Otto didn’t encounter another person after those workers for about an hour and a half. He’d almost point to the weather, but even here, it wasn’t as stifling and oppressive as it would have been at home.

A handsome couple walked up the path towards him, her hand lightly on the man’s elbow, blushes faint on their cheeks. The sudden knowledge that he had stumbled onto a private conversation washed over Otto, and he took the moment to turn off the path, acting if he only had been looking closer at a rosebush, buds slowly exploding in a mess of petals.

But that movement enabled him to finish the map in his head, seeing the dirt of the drive just down the house, the house just to the side. The carriage that had only just stopped caught Otto’s attention, though he was not entirely sure why. It wasn’t until he took a half step into the rose bush that the door was opened, and a familiar parasol was out of the door first, covering the deep brown hair secured under a hat.

How could Otto not recognize the woman who had been stuck in his mind for months?

Yet the realization didn’t stop Otto from disappearing back into his rented room, the nerves building in his chest almost too much for the moment. Coming here had been a bid to offer his mind a short break from the love-struck thoughts that he’d been inundated with for so very long.

His notes were spread on the desk provided, and he couldn’t find it in him to relinquish the work he was supposed to shelve.

The wood was warm in Otto’s hands. He pushed away from the dock, muttering softly to himself. He had little idea of what he properly was doing. The basics were well in his head, knowing only enough to glide through the water, but not enough to make it look, or feel, easy. He only rationalized it with his family lineage; too many of his relatives had found their home on the sea. What kind of Octavius would he be if he didn’t find his own way with a simple rowboat?

The oars once more in Otto’s hands, and he started to pull the wood through the water, feeling the resistance of the liquid. A few yards from the dock, and he heard his name yelled in slight surprise.

“Otto!” his head snapped up, only to see the woman he had watched arrive yesterday flounce up to him. Her beauty could not be understated, the deep green taffeta dress fitted just right to her, accented against the light greens of nature. Her steps were quick, stopping with a swing of her skirts at the end of the dock. The shade from her parasol wasn’t enough to mute her expressions, however.

“Rosaline! I’m sorry, I’ve already cast off. I can’t turn back.”

“Are you staying here long?” Her voice was strong as it called over the water to him, her eyes only caught on him. He could hear the tones of disappointment, her chance well missed this time.

“Yes! Can I find you tonight?”

“Join us for dinner!” The offer was hurried, something to ensure a meeting as he drifted further into the lake.

“I can’t.”

“Then tomorrow. Promise me you’ll find me in the maze.” The request nearly made Otto shoot to his feet, almost made him lose his balance and capsize the rowboat. His sudden surge forward only made the boat rock before he understood the danger, his eyes still locked her.

“Yes! I’ll find you!” he was quick to make the promise, and even at that distance, he was able to see her face light up in excitement, her grin nearly infectious.

“Good!’ It was the last thing he heard from her before the sound became too faint, and Otto allowed himself to memorize each of her expressions. The gust of wind playing with the hem of her skirt, curls shaken loose from its style and caressing the skin of her neck, Rosaline only could be compared to Aphrodite in his constant, lovesick state. Her visage was entirely memorized in seconds, imprinted into his mind without a thought more.

He didn’t touch the oars until her image had settled in his mind, and he found himself successful in keeping the boat from tipping, gliding smoothly into the spot he had taken it from shortly before. It wasn’t until he endeavored to try and stand that he found himself suddenly assaulted by the cold water of the lake, his mouth only just managing to close in time. He wasn’t graceful as he thrashed his way back to the dock, covered in algae and a bit of mud. His body back on the dock at long last, Otto could finally hear the peels of laughter falling from the porch, ones that he was vastly familiar with at that point. His head whipped around to see the source, and his mortification was full. The last person he had wanted to see him in such a state was sitting on the poarch with a book and her father next to her. He had missed the display, but it didn’t stop Rosie from trying to stifle it with a hand over her lips.

His gaze moved from Rosie to a maid, already with her arms full of towels for Otto.

“Here we are, sir. The lady up there saw your spill and wished you to be taken care of.”

“Thank you, miss.” Otto’s smile was kind, as he looked at her, before shaking his head at Rosie. The crimson was still bright on his cheeks, and Otto took the chance to hide it with one of the offered towels, scrubbing off the bits of green plant he could feel covering his skin. “Do you provide a laundering service, miss?”

“Yes, sir. I would guess you’d like this clothing to be laundered today?” “If it could be. I don’t want to find out what stains I can create yet.” He smiled at her, mind once again on the promise of the next days.

“Rosie?”

“Otto?” Her voice carried to him from the foliage, clearly on the other side of the natural wall.

“I will admit, I’m quite confused how a labyrinth can be used to medicate one’s humors.” Yet there was a humor in his voice even as he said it. His hand moved to the well manicured edge of the bush, the pricks of sharp sticks poking into the meat of his hand. The slight pain forced Otto to pay attention to his surroundings more fully. This meeting was secret, for certain, but perhaps not entirely undue. Though short as their courtship has been thus far, Rosie certainly seemed a woman willing to throw social rules to the side if it came to her benefit.

“I would assume it’s to keep the mind sharp, wouldn’t it?” His jovial state was reflected in her voice, a laugh waiting to spill from her lips.

In a shift of his weight between his feet, Otto nearly swore that he had caught the glint of Rosie’s eyes through the branches, for just a moment.

“Is it? I find logic puzzles to serve me better.”

“Perhaps, but if you are not sharp enough to find your way out of the labyrinth, are you safe enough to be let out?” Her question quickly evoked the story Otto was well familiar with; the offspring of the Cretan Bull and Pasiphaë.

“I believe that was an attempt to cage a monstrosity, not a human.”

“Wasn’t it human in its own way?”

“Only half so.” “Will you argue that the creature is not human on virtue of the desire to be human? That due to its desire to be human despite surface level mutations, it is not human?” Her questions took Otto aback for a few moments, realizing the truth of her words. She didn’t stop in his silence, however. “Do you think he would have needed those stone walls, the twists and turns, if he had been shown a mother’s love? If only his father had offered his palm instead of his fist, that he would have done those actions that were expected of him?” The rebuke, suddenly so very far from the original topic, slapped Otto across the face. The point was clear; what did he consider ‘no longer human’? A percentage? An action? Was the minotaur just a simple product of his circumstances?

“No. I don’t think that it would have taken so freely if it had not been shown how; if it had been shown love deserved to us all in the light of the sun.” Otto paused, looking once more at the twigs and the leaves in front of his face, thinking through the thoughts in his head. Rosie stayed silent, clearly waiting for words to grant their pattern on him. “Suppose he had. If this creature that was brought into this world without the volition of his mother, of his father, suppose he had been offered the love and joy of his siblings, the bosom of his mother, the palm of his father. Would the world have allowed such a creature to move freely among us? Or would his prison have only expanded from the stone walls and harsh turns, to the moat and the edge of the city. Would that have been enough for this creature who inherently stands above all?” It was Rosie’s turn to fall silent, waiting for his words to parse themselves together, to allow the moments needed for her decision.

“Yes. He could have found happiness. Perhaps the city walls would have confined him, but I believe even a few friends could have found their way to his aide.”

“And what of the people who fear him?”

“Would his father’s zeal not be enough to save his hide?”

“Only as long as his heart would beat. Would his words and actions stop Theseus?”

“He wouldn’t have heard of the horrors in the subterranean labyrinth. There would have been no incentive for his troubles in Crete.” At the location, Otto felt the branches press into his hand from the other side of the wall. The soft sound of a hand over branches then reached his ear, scratching sharp points against dry skin. “How far can you walk to your left, Otto?”

“My left? I have ten yards. Twenty on the other side.”

“Lovely. I may not be able to look into your eyes here, but would you walk with me?” The coy tone of her words tugged the smile that was so strange to his lips. He knew that in rejecting her offer, he’d be nothing more than a blubbering idiot.

“Whichever way you would like.” He allowed her only two steps to hear her direction, before her voice once again rose and twisted through the sticks. He realized there must not have been enough room to her left as she turned to his left, leading him to the ten short yards he could walk.

“I believe that the creature would have found its way in this world, somehow. Not an easy life, yet what life offers ease and breath? How can one find humanity without the trials to test character? To test the strength of one’s wills?”

“Perhaps its joy would have been found in mechanical endeavors such as clock making. Unable to show one’s face to the public, yet worn and shown by man. Perhaps even loved in the way only a layman could love an expert. Fully but only to the surface.”

“Precisely. Or a repairman, an expert in a field that the average person cannot pray or hope to fix. So many of our own mechanisms have found themselves in boxes, easily returned to their manufacturer.” The last few words started to quiet, just as Otto’s hand rested on the corner of the bushes, holding himself from walking through the branches.

“Rosie!” His voice rang through her words, cutting the next words off with a sudden silence. “I do believe you have lost me.”

“What… Oh!” Her laugh was musical, addictive, and Otto didn’t even realize his shoulders had met the corner as well, face pressed centimeters from another scratch on his cheek. She pulled him closer just by being herself; though their topic had been the minotaur, he almost wondered if their topic instead should have shifted to the sirens of the same pantheons.

“My thoughts take me too easily,” She finally said, voice nearly sheepish as she had returned to where Otto was.

“Perhaps this is one endeavor we should both be on the same side to reach.” Her pause was enough to make him rethink his words, worried he had stepped over a rule in his enjoyment of their conversation.

“We will be, one day.” The branch so very close to his cheek suddenly pushed in, her hand on the other side of the leaves, wanting to reach as close to him as she could. His hand moved to match the apex of the bump, their hands connected in every facility that they could manage. It wasn’t enough, Otto knew that. Rosie must have, as well.

“I’ll find myself following your footsteps that day,” Otto promised, his eyes cast down to the packed earth. “We will find the labyrinth exit together that day.”

“Don’t make promises you are unable to hold to, Doctor. I will hold your words as gospel.” He snapped his gaze from the ground to search through the branches, digging around as he was able until he was able to locate the smallest of glimpses of her irises, their eyes locking firmly and entirely, before the breeze tweaked a leaf to hide their eyes once again from the other.

“I’d promise you the sun in your hand if that would convince you to stay.” His voice was half breathless as he said the words, and he earnestly hoped that Rosie was unable to hear that failing on his part.

“How long is it you’ll be staying?”

“I leave tomorrow afternoon.” Otto felt the pause ring through his head and his heart, the gap suddenly appearing between them in a way that nearly forced him to reach out to her through the bush. “Yourself? When will I find you in New York again?”

“In a week only. Father demanded we spend some time from the cloying, heavy atmosphere of the city.”

“May I call on you when the time comes?”

“I would find my heart heavy if you did not.” THe truth rang through Rosie’s voice, and Otto knew that he would do whatever he could to spend that time with her.

“I will.” Too many promises made in just a single afternoon, Otto knew that he would be unable to fill them all. Not that he wouldn’t give it his best effort, that was certain. For Rosie, he would figure out a way to bring the moon down to her.

“Thank you, Doctor Octavius.” Otto’s head leant against the hedge for just a moment, allowing a soft sigh to fall from his lips.

“You’re welcome.” Her steps started once more, continuing to fall further and further from him. He pulled back at last, looking at the apex of the bush, wishing for a glimpse of her skirts but unable to even find that.

It wasn’t until he turned to find the couple standing at the edge of the path, the lady whispering something to the gentleman, her arm wrapped around his forearm in a manner Otto wished to recreate with Rosie.

“Oh, hello.” The blush he’d worked to overcome years ago was on his cheeks, embarassment at showing vunerability in such a public place intimately clear on his face.

“Do you need aide in finding an exit, sir?” The man’s voice rang into Otto’s ears, brushing Rosie’s soft voice like cobwebs from his mind.

“No, I do believe this is a test of wills, isn’t it?” An attempt of a smile was on his face, the effort to cover his blunder failing in the most simple of ways.

“Perhaps you are correct, sir.” The lady’s voice, fine as porcelain, now rang. Her hand motioned to the carefully maintained arch of leaves they had presumably walked through. “But you are just one turn from the exit.”

Tags! @niffysboxers @yesalwayswelles @overlookedfile @arandomnerdsblog578 @unitedfandomsoftheworld @emotrash1 @randomfandomtrash28 @tsukiakarinobara

#Forgot to upload chapter 5 here i'm so sorry y'all!#c6 in a few!#.W #victorian au #rosie octavius #otto octavius/rosie octavius #rosie octavius x otto octavius #otto octavius x rosie octavius

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falloutstasis · 6 months

Text

The Start

It's been several months since the Darkseid's invasion. Metropolis is just finish recovering from it's devastation and now the new Daily Planet building had just finished. Kelsey would bet that the citzens of Metropolis were happy that their home is close to complete.

There were still accepting new heroes after what happened. They were also accepting Heroes with healing properties so they can act as their doctors too. After what happened with Darkseid, the League weren't going to take any chances just incase something like this happens.

"She said yes." Diana pressed something on the side of her ear, having some sort of communication device ear piece there. "Punch it."

Before Kelsey could respond, both she and Diana teleported to the operations to the Justice League: The Watchtower.

"Oh." She spoke. Only to realize she was in space in side a space ship.

"Oh!"

"I told you she'd like it." Diana smiled at Green Arrow, known as to his friends and Kelsey, Oliver Queen.

She was practically ever so busy staring up at the window that was stationed around the Watchtower and had a great view of the many stars, she didn't even notice Oliver.

Oliver whistled at her, "Over here, Kels!"

She turned, clearly embarrassed in her features. "Shit, sorry!"

He grinned at her. "Don't worry. I did the same thing when I got here."

"Welcome to the Justice League." Diana said, putting a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"The what now?"

"Justice League, friend." Oliver pointed at the rest of the superheroes in front of her, which to be honest, didn't think there was that many. There was enough to draw a large audience if someone were to make a concert right here in the Watchtower.

"So, where do I start?"

"You start by giving us your code name."

Right, the superhero name. Right away, she gave the one she's still using at Gotham. "Lightspeed."

"Right." Oliver nodded. "Lightspeed. Come this way please."

Oliver and Diana lead her the command center, where they usually conduct the usual plan of actions for the heroes. Separate from the conference room the founding members have. The command center was also the place where heroes would be registered in the database of the Watchtower.

Diana accessed the computer and pulled up the registry. From there she typed in 'Lightspeed' in the registry.

"Strange. Someone must have already put in your information there." Diana responded, causing Kelsey to double check to make sure all of it was right.

"Huh." She felt a bit stumped and a little scared to be honest, since someone else has a hold of her information. "I wonder who did that?"

"I did."

With a sudden shriek, she quickly turned around to see Batman behind her, looking stoic as usual.

"Why do you always do that, Batman?!" She yelled out, very lightly punching him on his chest.

He ignored her angry protest and explained, "I've already have your information in the Watchtower. I'll call you with your first mission when I need you."

And with that he simply walked out of the room.

"Oh, so he knew you would be agreeing to join us."

Confused, Oliver shook his head. "He could at least told you a head of time."

Diana held her hand and continued, "I'll give you a tour around the Watchtower."

Surprisingly, for a ship such as the Watchtower, Diana's tour of the Watchtower took around 30 minutes. She took her everywhere as she flew to speed things up. They got everything here from a cafeteria to quarter rooms for the heroes. It make a somewhat livable area if someone stayed here for a while.

Which is something Kelsey is considering. She'll make that big leap when she gets there.

She also found out what was Batman doing at a place like the Watchtower only to find out that he is one of the founding members of the Justice League and basically paid for the Watchtower.

"Damn."

"Exactly. This is our second Watchtower. So he paid this one and the pervious one." Diana responded.

"Double damn."

So Kelsey is perfect to assume that he was the one who handled all the financial stuff that went on the Watchtower. With what money, she didn't know. For all she knew, she could be some rich boy with a lot of money to waste.

It wasn't long until she got her first mission with Diana. Pretty simple, help civilians through a recent 6.5 earthquake. Actually, it was the two of them and a group of other heroes. Plenty of help to go around right now and the civilians need it. Kelsey was glad she was at least be able to glide around with her electricity and run through various places with her superspeed as fast as she could.

It was around 8:00 PM and she was sitting down with her plate of food in the cafeteria, in front of the big window that showed off the luminating stars and planets that was in front of the Watchtower.

There were a few heroes that stayed behind to chit chat with one another, but other than that, it was pretty quiet. Kelsey was just here on her own, eating and staring at the stars.

"How are you adjusting so far?"

She actually heard some footsteps before Batman spoke, she was less than mildly spooked this time.

"It's weird. This entire day has been the most normal I've been in a while."

"Because there are others with superpowers like you?"

She nodded and kept looking at the space in front of her. "Being a detective is nice and I love my job. But this here," She pointed at the floor, indicating the Watchtower. "I can do a lot more without the fear of showing my-"

It was then it clicked in her head. It hit her like a ton of bricks. HOW did Batman knew she had powers?!

"What?"

She turned her head back at him, squinting her eyes. "How in the world did you know I had powers?"

There was a bit of a pause after Kelsey's question.

"Diana told us how she rescued you from Project Cadmus six years ago. All of your information came from one of Amanda Waller's terminals that Question hacked. Superspeed to match Wally West and a master of Electrokinesis."

"And you knew all along," She stood up, put her plate at a near by table. She turned to him once again. "While I was a detective at Gotham and not once you ratted me out to my boss about it?"

There was a tiny smile in his features. "You're one of Gotham's best detectives. It wouldn't be right to take away something you worked hard to get."

It was so hard not to smile at that response, because once again, she is reminded of how understanding and companionate Batman is. The same Batman she came to know every time she sees him throwing a bad guy behind bars. He knew how hard working she, Jim, the other detectives, and cops are and when he does work in mysterious ways, it's usually only for the right reasons.

She blushed and looked away with a smile. "Geez, Batman. That was nice of you to say."

Seeing that her tray of food was almost empty, she picked it and said, "I'll see you tomorrow?"

He nodded.

With that, Kelsey left the cafeteria room, off to visit her own room for the first time.

#at this point she knows batman but not bruce

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shadowofchwe · 2 years

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paradise | joshua hong

An ocean view is great, really. But the best view is your gorgeous new husband between your legs.

🌅 Pairing: husband!joshua x reader

🌅 Word Count: 1.4k

🌅 Rating: 18+

🌅 Genre: Smut, mostly pwp, some fluff, a little crack humor, honeymoon au, established relationship

🌅 Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content (right into the smut lol), oral (f receiving), mention of oral (m receiving), biting, slight mention of exhibitionism, Josh's terrible humor and married banter 🤩, two idiots in love honestly, hair pulling, wedding ring kink (idk if that's a thing but), fingering, very very brief mention of reader biting lip hard enough to draw blood, cum eating, making out, marking, grinding, groping, unprotected sex (be safe pls), praise, mostly soft love making™️ tbh

A/N: I have an unhealthy obsession with Ray Joshua and to me he just screams sexy times on the beach on your honeymoon with your new husband 🫠 Writing this literally destroyed me and made me permanently delulu so I hope you enjoy 🥹 Thank you for all your love and support towards me and my writing you're all so so lovely 🥺💙 Also fic will be below the cut since it starts with the smut right away hehe

Masterlist

"God," you sighed out as the summer sun bathed you in warmth, "this is fucking paradise."

A grumble sounded from below you, "Easy for you to say. Your loving husband is eating you out. In front of an ocean view, might I add."

"Hey, I just came out here to lounge on our amazing balcony with my gorgeous husband. You're the one who decided to relocate your face between my legs- Ow!" you cried out at the sudden feeling of teeth on your thigh.

"Don't act like you weren't moments away from coming. I could feel you."

A chill ran through you at his words, but you were still readying another smart remark.

“Don’t act like I didn’t give you the suck of your life when you woke up this morning.”

When he didn’t respond, you decided to chance looking down, and your brain immediately short circuited.

Your husband’s head had surfaced, and he literally looked like sex. His burgundy curls were in disarray, his dark eyes were slightly glazed over, and he had you all over his pretty pink lips.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re eating.” he chastised you before sensually licking his lips clean, and you felt yourself clench around nothing.

You took a quick glance around. The balcony of your honeymoon suite was private enough, but you weren’t completely out of view of the other guests. Anyone who looked for more than a few seconds would be able to see exactly what was going on.

You, sprawled out on a lounger, sundress bunched up around your hips, your skin flushed and glistening with sweat, and your husband, Joshua, on his knees with his head buried between your legs. The thought made you feel hot all over.

“Mmm,” Joshua hummed as he followed your gaze, “we are giving people quite the show, aren’t we?”

You leaned down closer to him, making sure to keep your voice low, “You don’t actually think anyone is watching us, do you?”

“I have no idea, angel. You know that I only have eyes for you. Besides, I haven’t seen anything for the last ten minutes except the inside of your cunt so.”

“Josh!” you practically squealed, your face burning bright red as you tried to hide behind your hands.

He feigned innocence, giving you a cute little lopsided smile.

“What? You have your view, and I have mine. Although, I definitely think that out of the two of us, I’m the one that’s in the splash zone right now.”

“Oh my God, stop! Please just stop talking." you begged, even though you were still laughing slightly because you loved your idiot husband so damn much it almost killed you.

Joshua's face lit up at the sound, positively beaming from ear to ear as he stared up at you.

"I love you." he said softly, the declaration warming you even more than the tropical sun above.

"I love you too." you voiced, grinning back at him like a lovesick fool.

"And lucky for you," he murmured as his lips glided over the inside of your thigh, "my mouth has more pressing matters to attend to."

Your back arched against the lounger when he dove back in without hesitation, his nose bumping against your clit as he resumed fucking you with his skilled tongue.

A series of breathy moans left your lips, and one of your hands reached down to find a home in your husband's dark red curls. Your wedding ring glinted beautifully in the sun as your nails scraped against his scalp. You could feel the cool metal of Joshua's own band from his fingers digging into your thighs to hold you in place.

Your free hand reached above you to grab onto the back of the lounger, your grip instantly tightening the moment your husband's lips wrapped around your clit. Your body instinctively squirmed at the sensation, but Joshua was quick to throw his arm over your hips to press you down into the chair.

You watched as his muscles flexed deliciously from the effort of holding you down. You were so distracted by the sight that you hadn't even noticed the movement of his other hand. Until you were crying out, your body practically jolting at the feeling of two of his long fingers plunging inside of you.

"Fuck fuck fuck." you cursed as his tongue simultaneously flicked over your bundle of nerves.

You pulled harshly at his burgundy strands, and your husband grunted in response before grazing his teeth against your clit. You bit your lip so hard you thought it might draw blood, just to keep from screaming out loud. His fingers were stroking you just right, and the suction from his sinful mouth had you feeling ready to float up and out of your body

"Joshua…fuck…I'm so close." you breathed out, everything else in the world falling away except for you and the beautiful man between your legs.

"Let go for me, angel. Fuck, wanna taste you." your husband beckoned huskily, and you readied yourself to topple off and over that ledge.

Joshua gave you the final push when you felt his teeth on you again, and you turned to bury your face into the chair to muffle your choked out moan as you came. Your husband removed his fingers from you before greedily drinking up your release, and you whimpered softly as you tried to regain your grip on reality.

"Mmm, angel, you taste like fucking paradise."

He made a show of licking his face and fingers clean, keeping his eyes locked with your own the entire time. You weakly reached out to grab onto the collar of his lacy white shirt and tried to pull him up. Joshua quickly got the hint and hauled his body up so that he was hovering over you, and you could immediately feel how hard he was just from eating you out.

You lifted your head to claim his mouth, moaning as soon as you tasted yourself on him. Your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him in closer, and Joshua immediately deepened the kiss and stole away what little breath you had left.

He rolled his hips and you gasped as you felt his still covered cock press against your core. His lips moved to attach themselves to your neck, and he immediately started sucking color into the sensitive skin. Your hands were in his hair again, holding him to you as you sighed out in pleasure.

His hands were all over you. Running up your sides, groping your breasts, sneaking underneath your sundress to push the garment up even higher. It was too much and not enough all at once. You still found yourself wanting more. Needing more. Every part of you was screaming out for him.

"Joshua…need you. Inside me…please. Now." you pleaded breathlessly, hips rising up to meet him.

Your husband groaned before rutting against you once again, "Fuck, angel. Here? Are you sure?"

You were so out of your mind with want for him that you couldn't even really be bothered about still being somewhat out in the open anymore.

"Yes. Just fuck me, please." you answered, voice dripping with need as your fingers began clumsily undoing the buttons of his shirt.

Joshua let out an impatient growl before taking over for you and unbuttoning the rest of his shirt in seconds. You pushed the garment off his broad shoulders and down his arms before reaching down to pull his cock out of his swim trunks.

He hissed as soon as your hand wrapped around him, and strong arms caged you in on either side of the lounger as Joshua lowered his weight on top of you. You wasted no time in lining him up with your dripping entrance, and moaned out when you felt him start to push into you a moment later.

You could feel his hot breath on your neck as he steadily sunk further between your walls.

"Fucking hell, angel. You always take me so well." Joshua praised you once he had buried himself to the hilt.

Your fingers dug into his biceps as he slowly drew back out before pushing all the way back in.

"God," you rasped out, "you feel so good."

He started a rhythm of slow deep strokes that had your back rising off of the chair once again. You could feel every inch of him dragging inside you, and it was like the sweetest torture.

Minutes slipped away, and you lost count of how much time you spent lazily making love to each other under the heat of the sun. Nothing more than a clumsy tangle of limbs and whispered sweet nothings. Simply, paradise.

#seventeen #joshua hong #seventeen smut #joshua smut #seventeen fic #joshua fic #honeymoon au

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yaomomvs · 3 years

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# enemies to lovers

have you ever wonder how would it be to have an enemies to lovers with the haikyuu boys?

→ miya atusumu, oikawa tooru, sakusa kiyoomi

— miya atsumu

the ‘i was born to annoy the shit out of you’

yeah that basically summarizes it lol

atsumu enjoys messing w people, pls he grew up hassling his twin brother, it’s in his blood

so you would probably happen to sit next to him in class and since this blonde asshole has no sense of personal space or self control he’d just started it as something casual, like he usually does with every poor soul he has the chance

however, he thought that your reactions were particularly funny so he managed to unconsciously get delight with

and also without noticing he grew fond of you and the memories

even if the next term you weren’t sitting together he searched for you everywhere until he had what he wanted

they were pretty childish antics nothing too much or actually disrespectful, from the drawing on your perfectly written notes to the shout out in pubic knowing it embarrasses you

everyone except this boy and you know at this point atsumu does it because he wants your attention

osamu one time tried to suggest he was catching feelings and that day during practice atsumu couldn’t stop laughing

yeah he is stubborn as hell

how does he notice it’s actually an enemies to lovers?

the moment he saw how a another guy was trying to flirt with you

cliché but the thing is, one random day before he enters his homeroom and was about to scream your usual ‘good morning y/n!’ which he know you hate and then he stops on his tracks just to find you flustered about how this another guy in your class complimented your beauty

i swear to good he just 🧍🏻‍♀️ like it was the first time he had a sudden stomachache (more like jealousy building up inside him)

and as stubborn as he is he remind himself that it was just because ‘i didn’t expect it, that’s all’

yeah sure mf

the team notices during the first day, he keeps putting it aside, but days pass by and he just witnesses everything this guy does to conquer your heart and then the bomb hits him

he wants to be the one capturing your heart, he pouts bc he wants to say sweet thing to you too, to compliment that beautiful smile that he likes to see, to have the cheesiest and corniest jokes to make your day, he no longer wanted to annoy, but to love you

immediately after he just runs looking out for you, and when he does find you i swear it was the fastest and sweet confession.

“ohgoshiknowimsostupidinmydefenseithoughtirealkywasdoingsomethingbutijustdontwanttofeelthaticanloseyouandmychancesofbeingwithyoueternallysopleaseacceptmyheartthathasalwaysbeenyours”

you blush and smile “finally atsumu”

and then he cries

— oikawa tooru

the ‘anything you can do i can do better’

lord please have mercy

it all started back in second year when the king oikawa tooru was stripped of his throne getting a second place on the grade ranking class list by no one else than you

people usually don’t know that in fact oikawa is always competitive, it was not limited to volleyball only, so ofc he is indeed in the highest class on the highest rank

or well, was

so the first thing this boy does is immediately put you on his rival list, you honestly were unbothered by your class position until this mf started competing with you

one day he just pointed you and challenged you, so at first you tried to ignore him until he was doing thing that actually tested your nerves, so you surrendered to patience and took this personally

oikawa made sure to have something everyday in which he could beat you in, suddenly he just tried your hobby so that he can prove he is better

and so did you, there was this aura in oikawa that you couldn’t stand, pretty boy, tons of friends, victories, you were sure this guy had to humbled so it was your new job, you even tried volleyball to gave him a taste of his own medicine

without realizing tooru suddenly knew every detail about you, he had been so focused on winning you in every conceivable way that he just randomly could say what your favorite food, store, class, etc was. to the point that everyone noticed that maybe oikawa had another passion which was you.

in fact, one time a guy wanted to ask you out and he overheard and without intending to he corrected him ‘actually, y/no’s favorite candy are panda gummies, they don’t tolerate chocolate’ and then left like nothing happened lol

how does he notice it’s actually an enemies to lovers?

when one time after you won the competition of the day, he smiled

and like you don’t get it, it was the most lovesick freaking smile ever

he suddenly forgot why he wanted to prove that he was better he just cared about how you accomplished something and he was like so proud that he didn’t mind the insults he just wanted to be around every time you achieved anything important too you

he realizes he is smiling and the surprised and teasing look from makki, iwa and mattsun and oikawa panics

he obviously catches feelings first but he refuses to admit it, he constantly is scolding himself like “no no no no NOOOO” every time he thought about you, or your smile or how cute you looked in the morning.

and he was so weird about it like you wondered why suddenly he just can’t talk or runs away from you

and i believe he confessed accidentally, his brain couldn’t process between ‘pls look at me’ and ‘no i have to get out of here’ when he was talking to you and then he just said out loud “OH MY GOD IVE HAD ENOUGH, WHY CAN’T JUST TELL THEM WE LIKE THEM STUPID BRAIN” and after he covered his mouth really ashamed and blushing so hard

maybe this was the first time oikawa was glad he lost

you spilled your drink

dw this pretty boy bought you one on your first date <3

—sakusa kiyoomi

the ‘you are an asshole’ ‘so are you’

honestly sakusa couldn’t care about anyone

he limited himself to have classmates and komori so he really didn’t mind

until well you appeared having the exact same apathetic look

when you got paired up for a project he thought that it was honestly going to be simple, oh boy, not even thirty minutes passed and you two were already pissing each other with passive aggressive remarks

and so your routine began bc somehow, you always or almost always ended up being paired so you spent a lot of time together

poor komori he was always in between your bickering and honestly sakusa and you were getting tired

you had to tolerate each other for a while, and so it became natural to be by his side, even sometimes very much to your regret you had to accompany him to his volleyball practices

sakusa was not having it, he thought it was honestly some kind of curse/karma to all those times he was an asshole to others

what he doesn’t knows is that little by little your company meant something for him, to always have someone by his side

how does he notice it’s actually an enemies to lovers?

when he no longer has you there

school years end of course you move to the next grade and so you two weren’t the exception to the rule

but he really did not thought that was gonna happen

he honestly convinced himself he had to “put up with you” for another year

his eyes widen when they land on your name placing you in another class

this weird jumble in his chest appears and he is way to oblivious on why

and honestly you felt the same way

weeks pass and sakusa still doesn’t get used to turning around and not finding you there, like, some tiny part of him always wish you appear two chairs beside him, biting your pencil while staring at the board confused.

without noticing he can recognize your voice every time you are talking and walking through the hall with your new classmates and he always feels like it’s not right

like you were supposed to walk beside him not others

eventually after a heated up discussion w komori his cousin enlightened him and he is so mad about having feelings 4 you and so his confession is really blunt

“i want to walk beside you again” he suddenly approaches you after school so ashamed, he has to physically look away.

“huh?” you didn’t get it

“don’t make me say it, you know what it means”

you open your eyes and when you realize it you blush so hard

now you get it

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cosmiclove-heavenstruck · 3 years

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Dance Lessons | Harry James Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Wordcount: 12200 words (Yes, really. Do you ever just start to write a little oneshot and then it turns out as a fic with over 10000 words?)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, sexual tension but no smut, fluff, slight angst, slow burn i guess

Summary: Harry asks you to teach him how to dance for the upcoming Spring Ball.

a/n: Set in Harry’s sixth year. English is not my native language, so there might be spelling/grammar mistakes. (The beginning is inspired by this oneshot)

Not many could say that they had faced Voldemort more than once and had survived, but Harry Potter was one of the few lucky ones that had gotten away every time. And if that wasn’t enough, Harry had defeated horrifying creatures, had broken into the Ministry and had saved the wizarding world several times – more or less accidentally, but hey. He had dealt with Umbridge and fought Death Eaters.

To the world, he was a hero, he was the Boy Who Lived.

So yes, his record of fighting the evil was quite impressive for a sixteen-year-old. But there was one thing he knew he would never impress anyone with and that were his dance skills.

Because Harry Potter couldn’t dance for shit.

Everyone who had watched his poor attempt at a waltz at the Yule Ball knew it had been an embarrassing disaster, and a blessing when he had stopped – merely for Parvati Patil’s feet.

Everyone who had watched knew that Harry Potter had never before set foot on a dancefloor. And you had watched. You had watched with great interest because secretly, you had wished for him to ask you to the ball. But when there had been only two weeks left and Dean Thomas had asked you after Transfiguration class, you had said yes.

There you were, sitting with Dean beside Seamus and Lavender as well as Ron and his date Padma, your eyes glued to the raven-haired boy getting terribly out of step. You watched, of course, under the pretence that you found it disgracefully hilarious.

Harry had never thought about asking you to the Yule Ball, if he was quite honest with himself. He had been after Cho, and he waited way too long to ask her, so she was already going with Cedric. And you had a date with Dean.

As good as Harry was with fighting the dark and the evil, as bad was he with social interactions. He had no problem producing a Patronus, but he was absolutely useless when it came to talking to girls.

You were the opposite.

Yes, the boggart may had made you faint in front of your whole class, but on the other hand, talking seemed like the easiest task in the world. Whether it was a chat with a teacher or speaking to strangers, though you did not thrive off of that.

There was one other thing that made you stand out to the other girls (and boys) in your year: You knew how to dance, from a simple disco fox to a more complicated waltz.

So, when Professor Slughorn announced a Spring ball for the students in sixth and seventh year, Harry knew you were his only chance if he did not want to make a fool out of himself again. He asked you (after a whole week of practicing in front of the mirror), with heated cheeks and a fast-beating heart, if you could teach him how to dance.

You felt a bit taken by surprise by this request, but agreed, nonetheless.

Friday evenings, eight to nine o’clock, were now reserved for your weekly dance lessons.

Looking at Harry’s history, it should be no big deal to dance with a girl when you had already come across the most dangerous things existing in the wizarding world. He should not be nervous; what was the girl teaching you how to dance against gigantic spiders who saw you as their dessert?

Well, everything.

The thing was, Harry could prepare spells and charms, he knew what he had to do when he was faced with a Dementor or a Boggart. His mind, however, went completely blank when it came to you, like his nerves were on fire. To say he was nervous was an underestimation.

Harry ran his hand through the mess of black locks in a rather useless attempt to flatten them. They jumped back up immediately as he let go, pointing in every direction but the one he wanted them to. Stupid genes.

Sometimes he wished he had inherited his mother’s hair. It would have been fun to be mistaken as a Weasley and he could pretend he and Ron were actually brothers.

To keep his hands busy, Harry smoothened the plaid shirt he had thrown on before darting another glance at the clock over the door of the abandoned classroom on the fifth floor. 8:01 o’clock.

His fingers drummed against the wooden desk he was leaning on to release his excited tension, which only worked until the door opened, and he jumped up into a straight position.

You stepped inside, a vinyl clammed under your arm and an apologizing smile on your lips.

“Sorry I’m late, Snape held me off,” You said, placing your bag on the table Harry had leaned on previously.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. Uh, are you alright?” He asked.

“Oh, yeah. I mean Snape just almost failed my assignment, but I found a new song to dance to, and I’m pretty sure you’ll like it,” You said as you rushed over to the old vinyl player in the corner and unwrapped the black record.

Harry followed your every movement. You could feel his eyes on you and bit down on your lip to stop yourself from smiling.

“It’s a bit slower than the other one, so it will be easier for you to follow,” You added and pulled the vinyl out, stroking a streak of Y/H/C hair behind your ear, your back still facing him.

When the record was placed correctly into the player, you turned back around and led Harry by the hand to the middle of the classroom. This simple touch alone made Harry’s head spin, and it did not help when you placed his hand onto your waist.

“Are you ready?” You asked and he nodded. “Good, follow my lead.”

There was nothing but admirable beauty, the way you moved to the soft piano music filling the room, Harry thought, and he hated himself for not realising sooner. You were like a sunset, and he was afraid to look right at you because what if you saw all the feelings swelling in his heart that dared to overspill at any moment.

You had been right, he adored the music you had brought with you, but he adored you even more.

You thought he looked at his feet because he was afraid to mess up the steps.

“Hey,” You said softly, taking the hand from his shoulder to lift his chin. “Eyes up.”

“Yes. Right. Sorry.”

A sheepish smile spread over his face and your heart beat hectically against your rip cage as his emerald green eyes met yours.

It took Harry a great deal of strength to not break out of the dance routine he had so intensely studied and kiss you. But your hand slipped away from under his chin back to his shoulder and the moment was lost, like so many others.

Staying professional was not so simple for you either, as much as you liked to deny it. You liked Harry, more than friends should like each other, but who could blame you? Harry was very handsome, with his messy hair and those green eyes, he was sweet and caring, and he was dancing with you in an abandoned classroom, his hand on your waist.

Looking at it from this angle, there seemed to be no reason as to why you were so careful to deny your feelings.

Well, there was one problem: You thought he wanted to ask Cho to the ball to make up for the Yule Ball.

Harry was pretty oblivious when it came to love. Neither had he thought about you as more than friends before sixth year, nor had he realised that the feelings he had felt for Cho two years ago were similar to the ones he had for you now, though they were much more intense.

The worst part was that you two had been friends for three year and since then, you had spent a week of every summer holiday at the Burrow. Harry knew you; he knew that you liked his crappy jokes and his sarcastic comments, but never before had his stomach tingled when you laughed at them. Never before had there been goose bumps all over his skin when you hugged him. And to hell, never before had he acknowledged how goddamn beautiful you were.

“You’re getting really good.” You ripped him out of his thoughts.

“Oh. Really?” He asked.

It would be brilliant if he could dance without thinking about it all the time, fearing he could step on your feet.

“Yes, really,” You replied, grinning.

“Well, I- I suppose I have a good teacher.”

The piano music faded out and you stopped in the middle of the room, slipping your hand out of his. It was a good excuse to turn around and start the vinyl again, so you did not have to answer anything.

Harry stood there for a second, gulping and scratching his neck. He should not have said that.

What he had said flattered you, but it was only a knife dressed like compliment, stroking over your heart to stab you right after. All of this was amicable, temporary, fickle. All of this was for Cho.

You sat the needle back on the record.

“What’s it called? The song, I mean,” Harry asked quietly.

“‘Il Reste du Temps’. The rest of time.” You walked back up to him and took his hand, leading you two into the dance. With his hand on your lower back, he pulled you a bit closer than last time.

“So, there are only two weeks left. You have asked Cho by now, I suppose?” You asked to remind your thoughts of reality.

Harry narrowed his eyebrows, not sure how you had come to the conclusion he still liked Cho. She was great, for sure, but she wasn’t you.

“Oh. Uh, not really, no,” He answered. Your heart jumped.

“Well, you should hurry up. You don’t wanna wait until last minute like last time.”

“I- yeah, I mean, I don’t- I don’t want to go with Cho.”

You stepped forward even though you were supposed to draw back and stomp on his left foot. His hand around yours clenched for a second at the sudden pain.

“Shit. Sorry.” You quickly brought you two back into the right footstep order. “You’re not asking Cho?”

“No. I wanna- No.” Harry stopped himself from talking any further. He couldn’t ask you. He just couldn’t.

“Well, who do you wanna ask?” You said.

Maybe it was Ginny. She was gorgeous, phenomenal at Quidditch and in the Slugclub. Nothing you could say about yourself.

Harry opened his mouth and stammered. “It’s, uh, you know…some…girl.”

Oh yes, great save, Harry, congratulations, He thought to himself, couldn’t be any vaguer, could you? For Merlin’s sake, look at her, she is completely confused.

You were pretty even when you were confused, with your eyebrows drawn together over your eyes curiously inspecting him – Stop.

“Ah, okay. The lucky girl’s a secret,” You said, laughing lightly. It was definitely Ginny.

“No, I mean, she’s –”

“It’s not my concern who you’ll ask, Harry,” You interrupted to calm him down. “As long as you ask her.”

Harry didn’t know what to reply to that. You really saw them just as friends.

The two of you danced for a while and Harry tried to memorise every golden speck in your dark eyes, every freckle, every curve, just so he could imagine you instead of the person he would dance with in a fortnight. If he would even go. Because what point was there to go to a ball if the one person he wanted to dance with more than anything else would not be there with him?

You tried to enjoy the closeness while it lasted. But the voices crowding your mind all shouted that he would never see you the way you saw him. That his face would never be so close ever again. That his hands would never rest on your body the way they did now, and never with any other intention than for the sake of learning how to dance, learning how to impress Ginny or whoever he would ask.

“Have you – have you asked anyone yet? To go to the ball with you?” Harry disrupted your thoughts and pulled you back into reality.

“No. I don’t even know if I’ll go,” You said and Harry’s heart dropped. “I mean, I’ll come to watch you dance, that’s for sure.”

Now his heart was way up in his throat, beating like hell. He swallowed and forced himself to answer. “No pressure then.”

You grinned at his comment. “Oh please, you can dance better than most of sixth and seventh year combined by now. You remember the spin I showed you last time?”

Harry nodded. He lifted his left arm and put a little pressure on your waist. You performed a small twirl before he caught you again, hand on your side. He smiled proudly.

“Really good.” The music stopped and you looked at the clock on the wall behind Harry. 8:57 o’clock. “I guess that’s it for today.”

Harry smiled sadly but you thought it was just your mind, playing you a trick. You packed the record back into the cover while Harry shouldered his back bag, handing yours to you. Then he held the door open for you, and you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

Harry had already pulled out the Marauders Map to check if the way back to the Gryffindor tower was clear. You weren’t technically allowed out after nine p.m. because of the new safety measurements, but it was part of the charm.

“Filch’s down on the first floor and Snape’s in his office,” Harry informed you.

“Okay.” You nodded.

Quietly and side by side, you two walked back to the Gryffindor tower. There was plenty of silence to break, plenty of time to ask you to the ball, Harry thought. But he was too afraid.

–

“It’s not that easy, alright?”

“Bloody hell, you spent every Friday evening with her! Half of our year thinks you’re secretly doing it in that classroom.”

For that, Ron earned a jab into his ribs. The two made their way through the masses of students down the last staircase to the Great Hall.

“Ow! It’s not my fault, you can’t open your mouth.”

“Oh, I can’t open my mouth? Have you asked Hermione yet?”

Harry was sure this would shut Ron up, but he was wrong.

“I asked her six weeks ago and she said yes, mate.”

Harry stopped in his tracks, stunned. “Wot?”

“Merlin, do you ever listen to me?”

Ron shook his head, walking to breakfast. Harry needed a few seconds before he could move again, then he caught up with his best friend. He was about to say something back when Ron’s sister Ginny interrupted them, wrapping her arms around both of Harry and Ron’s shoulders.

“Morning boys,” She greeted them enthusiastically.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was covered in a pale blue and yellow, the upcoming sun shining golden through the high windows.

“So.” Hermione poured both of you a glass of pumpkin juice. “How was it yesterday?”

“Mhm?” You looked up from your toast.

She sighed as if her question was rather obvious. “The dance lesson with Harry?”

“Oh.” You shrugged. “Normal.”

“So, nothing happened? Nothing you want to tell me?” She asked further.

You eyed her suspiciously, but she kept an innocent face expression.

“It’s not like we could do much besides dancing.”

Lavender beside you snickered and Parvati snorted into her coffee.

“Believe me, there is a lot you could do in that hour besides dancing,” Parvati said.

“God, no! Have you met Harry?” Lavender said bemusedly. “Like he's the type to have secret sex.”

“Still waters run deep,” Parvati replied, a smug grin on her lips. “Don't they, Y/N?”

Hermione crunched her nose at the suggestive tone as you narrowed your eyes at the two girls, shaking your head.

“Yes, keep making fun of my non-existing love life.”

You grabbed the strawberry marmalade, determined to ignore any topic concerning Harry. While you had lain awake last night, you had decided to bury your feelings for him all together and get over it. This would be easier once your dance lessons came to an end and the ball was done.

“Well, it does exist for everyone else,” Lavender interposed.

“And it would exist for you, too, if you would finally do something,” Hermione said, leaning forward.

“What?” You asked. “I mean, yeah, I like him, but he is definitely not into me like that. And I can't force him to be.”

Hermione groaned, and Parvati rummaged through her bag, pulling out a piece of parchment and making some space on the table.

“Okay, let’s see,” She began, “He asked you to teach him to dance. Big step for him, you know that. He always stares at you during Quidditch instead of the Snitch. Wood would've killed him by now. He always sits beside you. He definitely smelled you in Amortentia, regarding how he looked at you during that class. And since then, he looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. He –”

“He does not,” You said, grabbing her wrist to stop her from writing any further.

“Yeah, he does,” Lavender argued. “Look!”

You turned to spot Harry alongside Ron and his sister Ginny coming through the doorway, and for one second, your eyes met. Then Ginny said something, and Harry looked at her, laughing.

You sighed and stuffed the rest of your toast down your throat to get rid of the sour feeling twirling and burning in your stomach.

“Well, Ginny’s pretty funny,” Hermione tried.

“Yeah, she’s funny and pretty and she likes everything he likes.”

“None of that matters because he fell in love with you and not Ginny,” Lavender said, smiling brightly.

“He did not – not what you said.”

“He did! The list doesn’t lie.”

Parvati waved the parchment through the air, and you snatched it out of her hand, drowning it in the pumpkin juice before anyone could read it. Hermione curled her lip as she watched the paper soaking up the orange liquid, sinking to the ground of the jug.

In the same moment, Harry, Ron and Ginny reached your table, and to your surprise, Harry really did sit down beside you, your knees touching shortly while he climbed over the bench. The sudden touch sent sparks through your body and filled you with a comfortable warm which was quickly extinguished by Ginny sitting down next to Harry.

You didn’t want to be jealous.

There was no need to compare yourself to Ginny, you were two completely different people. But hearing her talk about Quidditch to the guys and seeing her flicking her beautiful hair over her slim shoulder made it so obvious how perfect for Harry she was. You couldn’t compete with that, in fact, you didn’t even want to compete with that.

No, you would get over your feelings and maybe ask someone else to spend the next Hogsmeade weekend with you. Those evenings with Harry, those moments too good to be true would stay somewhere deep down in your heart, locked away from the real world.

The weekend left as fast as it had come, and soon enough Harry and you both found yourselves in your day-to-day school life, studying for an upcoming Charms test and writing essays for Snape and McGonagall.

There wasn’t much time to think about each other, yet Harry managed to glance up from his homework a few times to stare at you opposite from him, snuggled into an armchair while flicking through a book. He noticed that you captured your tongue between your lips or mouthed single words to yourself whenever you were so deeply sunken into thoughts that you forgot the many people around you.

The latter found Harry very impressive because he was never that relaxed if more than three people were with him. Your lips on the other hand found Harry... well, much more interesting than his homework was the least to say.

Every day he woke up thinking that today, he would ask you. But whenever he came close to ask, he changed the topic or was distracted by friends and classmates.

Even Ron had given up with his jokes by now, which was a very bad sign and a nonverbal way to say, Man, you fucked up.

–

You had decided to make the last of your dance lessons a memorable one. An hour of pretending, of being close to someone you know you would never be this close to ever again.

Therefore, you had asked your older sister to send some of your favourite records from home, which you were now sorting through in the abandoned classroom. It was ten minutes to eight and you were sipping a butterbeer to cool your nerves. All those times before you had been as calm as ever, but today you were on the edge.

The door opened and you turned to find Harry in the doorway, hair messy as ever.

“Hi,” He said and the corners of his lips jumped up into a lopsided smile.

“Hey. You’re early.”

“Could say the same about you.”

“Yeah, you could,” You mumbled, pushing the needle of the record player down onto the vinyl.

Classic music filled the air and you walked over to Harry to lead him to the middle of the room after he had dropped his back bag to the floor. With the high heels on your feet, you were almost eye to eye, your nose at the height of his lips.

For a wonder, he did not need your instruction to place his hand on your waist and pulled you much closer than usual.

Harry felt his heart beating in his throat. Being this close to you was galvanic, every nerve was burning, and then again, for the first time in two months, he was able to close his eyes and let himself sink in, to melt with the music, to feel the tact pulsating through his whole body. It was what you had tried to teach him all along.

And yet his tongue was tied. He just had to ask. Would you like to go to the ball with me? One simple question. You had told him yourself to not wait until last-minute to ask, and now with every minute, every hour, every day passing it felt more ridiculous. He had known that he wanted to ask you and only you to the ball, but every time he thought about forming the question, his mouth failed him.

Your eyes lay calmly on him, tapping his shoulder in time to the music while secretly trying to remember every little detail of his face: His prominent eyebrows curved over his emerald green eyes, his flushed cheeks and the dimples created by his light smile lying on his lips.

Harry had become, for lack of a better word, quite fantastic at slow dancing. There was confidence in the way he moved through the room and held onto you, mingled with a certain elegance and appreciation of the art he was participating in. A good teacher, he had called you. Well, regarding slow dances, yes.

But there was one other thing he had yet to learn.

“You’re really good, you know that?” You said, and his smile brightened.

“Yeah? Or are you just saying that because it’s my last lesson?” He asked.

“No, I mean it. You know, I wrote my sister last week and she send some of my vinyl discs from home,” You told him as the music slowly faded out and let your hand slip from his shoulder and hand to turn to the record player, not noticing how his fingers lingered a moment longer on your waist.

Harry watched how you sorted through the discs, not able to make use of their names in any way. The only record he had come across before those dance lessons had been one by a singer named Bonnie Tyler, who Aunt Petunia secretly listened to on repeat during the summer when Uncle Vernon went grocery shopping or mowed the lawn.

Harry wasn’t a big fan, which was pretty much the only thing he had in common with his cousin Dudley.

“Here. To dancing and a nice Spring ball.” Harry snapped out of his thoughts. You held out a bottle of butterbeer, which he took and snapped its bottle top off, regarding for a moment to say something along the lines like To you, for teaching me how to dance or To us, but that seemed a bit too much.

Therefore, he went with a simple “Cheers” and touched glasses with you.

While he took a big sip in hopes it would make him braver, you decided on a turquoise and pink coloured disc with a man dancing on the front, the words Footloose in ornate writing covering its front. He couldn’t help but notice the grin you tried to hide, as if knowing something he didn’t.

“What’s that?” He asked, leaning against the table beside you and putting his beer aside.

“That’s what the cool kids dance to.”

You placed the needle onto the record. Drums began to play a fast rhythm, mixed with an electric guitar, and you slipped off your high heels, now only in tights. Harry watched with fearful curiosity how you snapped your fingers in time, bopping your head with closed eyes to internalise the music.

Every movement of your feet, your hips, your shoulders was nonchalant, effortless and... well, simply cool.

“Come on!” You said loudly over the music, waving Harry closer.

“No, no, that’s –” He shook his head, heat flushing his cheeks, and crossed his arms.

“Yes!”

You danced up to him, grabbing him by his hands and pulling him to the middle of the room.

Harry had improvised a lot when it came to fighting evil. His whole trip to the ministry had been decided because of his gut instinct, because he had thought he knew what he was doing. Well, that was probably a bar example. He had made everything worse back then.

But everything he had done to fight off the hundreds of Dementors at the Great Lake, or the creatures in the maze two years ago, or Voldemort at the graveyard, every single thing had been purely and spontaneously improvised.

Now, he wasn’t sure if he was that good at improvising dance moves, but you had other plans.

“Come on, don’t you trust me?” You said as his fingers clenched around your hands, unable to let go, like a man clinging onto a life buoy in the middle of the ocean.

And Harry wanted to say back that of course he trusted you, more than he probably knew himself, but all that came out was a “Yeah” which sounded more like a laugh than an actual word because of the grin stretched across his lips.

“Just dance the way you dance when no one’s watching,” You said.

“I don’t – I don’t do that,” He admitted, feeling how his cheeks burned under the unbelieving look coming from you.

“Okay, then close your eyes and just – just do it. Here, I’ll do it, too!”

You closed your eyes, smiling brightly, and slipped your fingers out of his, twirling on the spot like you usually only did behind closed doors, and clapping your hands in time with the music.

Harry couldn’t rip his gaze off of you, the way your body moved without any shame, your ridiculous head banging while acting like you play the guitar – air guitar, that’s what it was called, he had seen Dudley and his friends doing it, but never with so much... passion?

You were quite passionate about dancing, much more passionate than you were about school or Quidditch, and it fascinated him. How you could let loose, could forget what everyone thought of you, and he wanted to feel it too, wanted to not think that everyone was judging him.

So, Harry closed his eyes, concentrated on the beat of the music and your hands clapping, and then he did what you had been doing: Moving his arms, his legs, his feet, all a bit offbeat, all much less cool than what you did, but it had the effect he had wished for.

He forgot. Forgot about everything going on, everything in the past, everything that would come. It was like the music had deleted Voldemort from his mind. There was only his body and those absurdly freeing dance moves he would have been ashamed off any other time.

But not with you.

“Hey, you’re doing it! You’re doing it, look at you!” You shouted over the music, and Harry ripped his eyes open in the same moment as you grab his hands again. He slowed his legs.

“You said you wouldn’t look,” He said breathlessly, very aware of his fast-beating heart.

But if he was honest, he did not mind that you had seen him. If he could choose any of his friends to watch him dance like this, it would definitely be you.

“I had to, I’m sorry!” You laughed, and the song came to an end. “Oh, I have something even better, you’ll like that!”

You hit him friendly in the chest and rushed over to your pile of vinyl discs, wrapping the Footloose back up and pulling out another one from a white and pink packaging with two people on the front.

Harry would’ve never believed that dance lessons would be more exhausting than Quidditch training, but he had soon been disabused. He took a huge sip from his bottle of butterbeer and watched how you placed the needle on the disc before reaching for your own bottle.

“‘You broke my heart – ‘cause I couldn't dance – you didn’t even want me around!’” You were mouthing along the words the singer was speaking in an overdramatic seriousness, holding your bottle like a microphone. Harry was grinning at you, afraid of what would come next. “‘And now I'm back – to let you know – I can really shake 'em down!’”

The music dropped in, and you shook your hips, hands on your black skirt.

“Now don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Dirty Dancing,” You dared as Harry stayed at his spot, and he shrugged helplessly.

You shook your head at him with a smile on your lips, placed your bottle away and pulled him away from the table until you two were almost as close as in your usual dance lessons.

“Okay, like this.” You grabbed him gently by the waist and pushed him a bit down so his legs were slightly bent. Harry’s heart jumped at the unexpected touch. “Good, yeah, look at what I’m doing.”

Your grip became firmer, circularly moving his hips like you did. His eyes jumped up between your face and your waist, and he tried his best to copy your movements while calming his heart speed down.

“Yes, good! Now, your upper body, look at me – yeah! Good, eyes up,” You reminded him, and he glanced at your face, his cheeks flushed.

“Is that okay?” You asked, stepping closer so your hips almost touch, and he nodded. You took his hand, placed it on your lower back, and wrapped your own arms around his neck, just like Johnny and Baby had done it in the beginning of Dirty Dancing.

“That’s good!” You encouraged him, and he grinned at you, his face bright red. “You know, in the movie, they have another dance with a lift.”

“You’re not gonna make me do that, are you?” He asked.

You shook your head, laughing. “No, definitely not without training and a mattress,” You said, slowing your hip movements. “Maybe after the ball. I mean –”

The words had just slipped out of your mouth without thinking about them before. But Harry smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of his forehead, while I’ve Had The Time Of My Life began to play, and Bill Medley’s voice filled the room.

Harry felt like he was on fire. If you wanted to continue the dance lessons next year it must be because you liked him. In some way, you liked him, and it was very hard for him to concentrate during this dance. And training on a mattress would not make that easier – Stop it, stop it, just answer!

“Yeah, okay,” He said, and your heart jumped up in excitement. You smiled back at him and grabbed his free hand with yours, leading you back into a simple dance routine fitting the music. Harry followed almost effortlessly, only shortly glancing at his feet.

“I’ll have to demand payment if we keep doing this.”

“What kind of payment?”

His hand on your lower back pushed you a bit closer, you were almost chest to chest. Was he... flirting with you?

Whatever it was, it made you speechless, and in a moment of incautiousness, your eyes fell down to his lips. You held your breath for a second as you looked back up into his eyes, slowing your movements. He returned your gaze, but just as you were about to gather all your courage, his eyes shifted to the door of the classroom, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration.

“What?” You asked, turning around.

“Filch,” He said and not far down the hall, you heard the meowing of Mrs. Norris.

Panic flared up inside of you as you saw the clock on the wall: Half past nine.

“Argh, fuck.”

You let go off him and rushed over to the table with the record play on top, shoving your vinyl discs into your schoolbag and collecting your high heels in a hurry.

Outside in the hallway, the scratchy voice of Filch mixed with the clicking of his cat’s claws on the stone tiles. Harry had grabbed his bag from the floor and fished out his Invisibility Cloak. As you turned around, he had reached you and enveloped you two in the cloak, standing almost as close to you as a few seconds ago.

“Have you found someone, Mrs. Norris?” Filch’s voice echoed through the hallway. “Is someone out of bed at night?”

“We have to get out,” You whispered, not very keen on getting detention any time soon.

“If we open the door now, he’ll know someone disguised is there,” Harry answered.

“How often have you snuck out of bed at night?”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards into a lopsided smile.

“Enough times to know what to do.”

The scratching on the classroom door reminded Harry that, despite the fact that they were invisible, it was still pretty obvious that someone had been in here. Harry flicked his wand at the ceiling light right in time – the candles went out and the two of you were coated in darkness just before Filch pushed the door open and the light from his lantern fell onto the stone floor. You held your breath, hoping he would leave again.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Norris’ red eyes scanned the room and the greyish cat walked up to you as if she could actually see you. Instinctively, you wanted to move backwards, but Harry’s arm wrapped around you, holding you in place. You looked up to him and he slowly shook his head.

Mrs. Norris eyed you for a few more seconds before she suddenly jumped onto the table behind you, walking up to the two almost emptied butterbeer bottles and bumping her head against them.

“Oh no.” Your voice was no more than a whisper. “I didn’t –”

Harry placed his hand over your mouth, forcing you to keep quiet.

“Sorry,” You mumbled.

Filch had turned away from the other side of the room he had inspected and was now walking over to his cat. With his arm around your mid, Harry pulled you two quietly away from the table he was now inspecting. You weren’t entirely sure whether it was the panic of escaping Filch or Harry’s chest pressed against your back, but the butterflies in your stomach were jittery as though they were on drugs, and your heart beat unbelievably fast.

Harry felt your heartbeat. He felt the pulsating blood in your veins on your neck where his arm lay, reaching up to your mouth. You were barely breathing, and he figured it was because he was holding you like he was about to kidnap you.

“Run when we’re in the hallway,” He whispered, eyes steadily watching Filch, and removed his hand from your lips to grab your free hand. You nodded shortly. Fortunately, Filch had left the door open, and in one swift motion, Harry had steered you outside.

Fingers still interlocked with yours, he began to run, you by his side. And despite the fact that you two had almost been caught, despite that you had been interrupted when he had felt most confident, despite the ruined moment, he felt light and free and happy.

You were clutching your shoes, slithering over the cold tiles in your black tights, and Harry, looking at you, almost missed the last step of the stairs leading to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He held onto you as he staggered, and you giggled breathlessly, pulling him back up.

“That – stupid – fucking – cat. Can she see through your cloak?” You asked.

Harry shrugged and ruffled through his messy hair.

“Don’t know. I think, but I’m glad she can’t talk,” He said, and a grin spread over your lips, which he returned.

He caught your eyes, looking at you like before, like there was something he needed to say – the tingling feeling in your core got overwhelmed by heart-racing panic and because of some sour mix of uncertainty and fear, you slipped out from under the Invisibility Cloak, taking a few steps away from Harry.

Not a second later, he emerged as well, fighting to keep the smile on his face like his heart hadn't just sunk so deep he wasn't sure if it was even still connected to his veins.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah!” Your voice was too loud, too squeaky to convince him. “Yeah, I – I'm sorry, it's just been a long week and I'm really tired. I'm gonna – gonna go...”

You gestured to the portrait behind you, avoiding his eyes, and turned to escape the situation.

Harry stared at the spot where you had vanished into the common room, his fingers clenching around the fabric of his cloak before tossing it to the ground. It didn't give the satisfying sound he had wanted to make, so he sent a “Fuck!” after it.

“Young boy, that is not a very appropriate language, now, is it?”

His eyes flew up to the Fat Lady, who had apparently watched with great interest. “Besides, what are you doing that late out of bed? I mean I know it gets later on Fridays for the two of you but it's later than usual today –”

“Chinese Fireball.”

“I just don't know what you are doing during that hour. There are rumours, for sure –”

“I told you the password, now will you open the fucking portrait? Chinese Fireball.”

“Oh, fine.” She let the portrait swing forward. “I'll find out by myself... maybe visit some paintings down on fifth floor...”

Harry ignored the Fat Lady.

He also ignored Ron calling after him from the sofa in front of the fireplace, as well as Hermione's questioning look and all the other people staring at him as he darted through the common room and up the stairs, slamming the door of his dorm shut behind him.

He ignored them because the only person he wanted to be seen with had just left him standing in the hallway and he wasn't even sure why.

The first time you saw each other again was three days later in Potions. You had ignored him on purpose, which you knew was obvious to him: Leaving the Great Hall whenever he stepped inside, sitting as far from him in the common room as possible, avoiding his eyes... that did not leave that much room for speculations.

You didn't want to hurt him, you really didn't, but you couldn't be friends any longer, especially not after last Friday. You weren't even sure what exactly had happened – had he really flirted with you or had that been your imagination? Probably the latter. He had asked someone else the ball after all. Right?

Parvati nudged you with her elbow, and you snapped out of your thoughts, noticing the hole in your parchment created by your quill. The two of you sat in the far back of Professor Slughorn’s class, who was in the middle of telling one of his anecdotes instead of teaching about Veritaserum.

“What’s going on?” She asked in a hushed voice. “You’ve been weird since Friday.”

Lavender, who sat in front of you, turned around. “Is it because of – you know?”

She gestured towards Harry in his usual place diagonally across from you. You sighed, placed your quill aside to rub your hands over your face and shrugged. You had also avoided any questions from your friends about Friday, mostly because you could not even answer them yourself.

“I thought he would ask you,” Lavender whispered while throwing a quick glance at Slughorn to make sure he was still occupied with his story. “Didn’t he?”

“No,” You mouthed. Parvati shook her head.

“Man, you’d think he had grown a set of balls after all. If it turns out he just used you to look good in front of Ginny, I swear to Merlin –”

“Well, that’s what it looks like, I mean, he had enough time to ask you,” Lavender said.

Before you could reply anything, Parvati had grabbed her wand and leaned forward. In the next second, the blue Jobberknoll feathers on Harry’s desk burst into flames with an ear-piercing noise.

Both Harry and Ron jumped up, startled from the sudden explosion, and Hermione let out a little shriek as one of the sparks got caught up in her locks. Snickering came from the Slytherin table, and Crabbe and Goyle were stupidly grinning.

“Was that you? Stupid tosspot, I’ll shove that feather up your –,” Ron swore loudly, fists high and ready to walk over to the Slytherins, who had gotten up as well and were throwing insults through the room.

“Calm down, m’boys, no need to get abusive.”

Slughorn stepped between the two fronts while both Harry and Hermione pulled Ron back down onto his chair. With a wave of Slughorn’s wand, the feathers stopped burning and were as good as new.

“Have you gone mental?” You asked during the turmoil. Parvati shrugged and innocently shoved her wand aside.

“You’re my friend and if he hurt you, he’ll get what he deserves –”

“He didn’t hurt me!” You whispered angrily. “I was the one who panicked, I ran away that evening because I was afraid of what he would say! Not Harry. I left him like the idiot I am even though he – he was super nice and said he wanted to learn more –”

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Sorry, Professor, I was just –”

“Talking to Ms. Patil, I noticed. Could you still answer my question?” Slughorn eyed you, and so were all the other students.

“Uh...yes... if you could repeat it? Sir.” You said, and once again snickering echoed through the classroom, the loudest coming from Pansy Parkinson.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Parvati reaching for her wand again, and you quickly pressed her hand down to the table, awkwardly smiling at Slughorn.

“I asked if you could tell me anything about the usage of Veritaserum in court,” He kindly repeated and you straightened your back, ignoring Hermione’s raised hand.

“Well, the potion is strictly banned by the British Ministry of Magic, therefore they don’t use it during interrogations and such, which is also because, like any other potion, it’s not infallible. But I read that in some Asian countries, the accused can choose if they want to take Veritaserum before they give testimony. Unfortunately, in some courts they give the accused failed Veritaserum in order to alter the given testimony fraudulently.”

You had never read about that, you were – ironically – making it up, but Slughorn didn’t seem to notice.

“Very well, that’ll be five points for Gryffindor,” He said. “That reminds me of –”

As Slughorn fell back into his old habit of telling personal stories during class, you sank back into your chair and stared at the chapped top of the desk for the rest of the lesson.

Only the bell ripped Slughorn out of his monologue, and over the rustling of chairs, he told the class to read the next chapter of Advanced Potion Making until Wednesday.

“Courtyard?” You asked Parvati as to where to spend your free lesson.

“Yeah, but I got a question about that graded essay from last week. Just go ahead, I’ll catch up with you,” She answered and made her way to the front. Alongside with Lavender, you were one of the first to leave the Potions classroom.

“I wish I hadn’t picked Arithmancy,” Lavender complained.

“You can sleep longer on Thursdays, remember?” You said as you reached the entrance hall. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Lavender began to climb up the stairs to the third floor, and you walked down the hallway. It was freezing cold outside, but the courtyard was beautiful during every time of the year, especially in the early mornings when the sun melted the iced-up grass and you could share a hot chocolate with your friends on one of the benches.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”

You turned to spot none other than Theodore Nott running up to you, his Slytherin scarf loosely around his neck.

“Hi,” He said as he had reached you.

“Uh, hi. Can I help you?” You asked.

“Actually, yeah. I wanted to ask if you have a dance to spare at the Spring ball? I mean, I know you’re going with Potter, I just wanted one dance with someone professional –”

“I’m not going with Harry,” You blurted out. Theodore narrowed his eyebrows.

“What?” He asked, a bemused smile on his lips.

You gulped and shook your head, crossing your arms. “I’m not going with... anyone.”

“Oh. Well, then,” His body relaxed visibly, and he raised his eyebrows, “do you wanna go with me?”

You opened your mouth, an agreement already on the tip of your tongue, but you knew that was just out of desperation and not because you actually wanted to go to the ball with Theodore.

“Hey, you know what, no pressure at all, okay?” He said, placing his hand on your shoulder casually. “I’ll be at the ball anyway, so if you want to dance then, I’m free.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Theodore. I’ll think about it.”

“You can call me Theo. Only if you want to, obviously.”

A grin crept upon your face. “Yeah, I’ll – I’ll think about it.”

Whatever Harry had felt the two days prior, it was nothing compared to the sour feeling circulating in his stomach now, like some dragon-creature spitting fire and tearing at his entrails with sharp claws. Inside of him, everything was clenching and itching, but on the outside, he was numb.

Like his brain had been disconnected from his muscles, wherefore he was only able to stare at Theodore Nott and his stupid, complacent grin and his hand on your shoulder while he asked you to the ball.

This wasn’t fair. How come everyone else but him was able to do it, how come everybody else had managed to find a date, when – to be honest – he had been provided with one of the best initial situations? How come the only thing he was apparently fit for was getting himself into trouble and escaping death every goddamn year? Harry had kind of forgotten about all that was to come, all that Dumbledore had told him, and the memory Slughorn was still tending like dark secret simply because of you.

The worst thing wasn’t that Theodore Nott had just asked you to go to the Spring ball with him. No, the worst thing was that you had agreed.

The only thing that was left for him was to run, which he did now: Up to the Gryffindor tower, tossing his back bag into a corner and grabbing his Firebolt from under the bed, then back down to the Quidditch pitch in record time.

Flying was one of the most freeing activities known to Harry, especially in the cool, fresh morning air with no one else around. High above the frozen grass and the wooden stands, much higher than probably allowed without any teacher near by, Harry paused to watch the sun over the Forbidden Forest.

He wondered if you had ever flown before, if you knew how brilliant it was to hover a thousand feet above the ground, far away from all the problems. Far away from Ron asking what the bloody hell was wrong with him. Far away from Hermione telling him that it was his own fault for waiting so long but that you surely weren’t interested like that in that tosser Theodore (though she would probably word it much more formal).

Time was relative up here, Harry had noticed over the years, so he closed his eyes and shut the world out for a moment. Saturday was still light-years away anyway, so –

“Harry, is that you?”

He almost fell from his broom.

With his heart still beating way to fast and adrenalin pumping though his veins, he turned his broom around to find no one other that Luna standing inside commentary box and waving up to him. Oh well. So much for being alone.

He steered his Firebolt down to the blonde witch and landed beside her.

“What are you doing her, Luna?” He asked as climbed from his broomstick. “Don’t you have classes right now?”

“Oh, yes. But I saw that you are sad so I asked Professor Sprout if I could go because I’m not feeling very well,” She explained and sat down on one of the benches.

“You lied to a professor?”

“Oh, no,” She said, looking at him with her dreamy blue eyes. “I don’t feel well when my friends are sad.”

Harry didn’t know what to reply to that, so he simply sat down next to her. Luna had such a strange, but calm energy, like a pulsating, pink bubble inhibiting her, and if you were lucky, she let you inside this bubble and you could shut the world out for a moment.

“Harry, why are you sad?” Luna asked softly after a while.

“Because... because I like someone who doesn’t like me back,” He said.

Luna placed her hand upon his, and he saw that she had painted her fingernails in every colour of the rainbow. Though that was probably Ginny’s work.

“I think Y/N likes you very much,” She said. Harry scoffed.

“Not the way I like her,” He said. “She just agreed to go to the ball with Nott. I saw it. She looked happy. And when I wanted to ask her last week, she ran away.”

“You know, first I thought you wanted to go to the ball with somebody else,” She said. “I thought maybe you wanted to ask Cho again and wanted to prepare this time. And maybe Y/N thought so, too.”

Harry looked up at the blonde girl.

“She did ask me if I was going to ask Cho,” He said, remembering one of the dance lessons.

“And did you tell her that you actually want to ask her?”

“No,” He admitted, burying his face in his hands. “I panicked... and now it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. You should still go to the ball, and then you should tell her,” Luna said.

“How? I can’t do it when we’re alone, I certainly can’t do it when there’s a hundred people around,” Harry said miserably.

“Well, then don’t.” Luna shrugged. “If you want her to be with Theodore –”

“I don’t want that,” He interrupted her. “Of course, I don’t.”

“Then go to the ball and tell her. I know you can do that.”

Saturday evening came around faster than you liked it to. Over the last four days, you had noticed Theodore’s eyes on you more than once during the meals or potions class, but it did not cause the tingling feeling in your stomach you would like his looks to cause.

If anything, you felt a pressure to talk to him and to spend time with him because you would go to the ball together. But you did not give in to that pressure and avoided him as much as possible, which led to you often leaving the potions classroom as one of the first.

To be honest, you were much more concentrated on Harry.

Harry who did not sit beside you during meals anymore. Harry who did not look in your direction but rather stared at his plate. Harry who looked like he had just lived through a very miserable week.

And you knew that was because you had left him standing in the hallway last Friday night. Maybe he had figured that you had feelings for him and that was his way of dealing with it: Distancing himself from you.

You wished you had not run. You wished you could’ve stayed in that abandoned classroom forever, your favourite song playing and his arms around you.

–

“What eyeshadow should I use?”

“The darker one.”

“Y/N?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, looking up from where you sat on the floor in your puffy, ankle-long purple-pink dress. Parvati held out her eyeshadow palette, eyebrows raised as she sceptically eyed you. Her black hair was still wrapped around a dozen curlers. Lavender had spent all morning on them.

“Yes, the darker one,” You said. “Brings out your eyes.”

Thankfully, that answer seemed to satisfy her enough to not ask how you were doing. She and Lavender had already asked that over a million times, but you had reassured them that you were totally okay.

Parvati turned back to face the mirror.

“When did you want to meet with Nott?” Lavender asked. She kneeled in front of her trunk, pondering whether she should wear black or silver heels.

“Half past seven,” You mumbled, picking at the tulle of your dress.

Theodore had held you back yesterday after Defence against the Dark Arts to tell you that he would be at the Great Hall at 7:30 and that you were welcome to eat dinner with him and his friends – which included people like Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson; people you usually avoided by all means, people that had laughed at you for tripping over the last step of a stair, for not knowing an answer to one of Snape’s stupid questions, or for simply being Muggleborn.

You had never been less interested in going to a social event. All you wanted to do was lay in bed under your blanket and erase the last week out of your mind.

“Oh, come on, darling, we talked about this.” Lavender came over and squished your cheeks, brushing away a tear. “Today is not the day to sulk about some guy who doesn’t return your feelings. Today is your day, and you’re gonna have fun with us. Don’t let some guy ruin that. Okay?”

You sniffed and nodded, not able to answer because she cupped your cheeks so solidly. Lavender smiled and kissed your forehead.

“That’s right,” She said. “We’re gonna have some dinner and dance a bit and if by then you still feel bad, we can go back to our dorm.”

“And if Harry dares to talk to you, he’s gonna know what’s it feels like to be kicked in the balls with a heel,” Parvati added dryly. You laughed.

The Great Hall was decorated with yellow, pink and purple banners, and the four long house tables had been exchanged with much smaller, round ones scattered where the staff table usually stood, on each of them a vase filled with rosa tulips and white daffodils.

The ceiling did not mirror the night sky outside but a beautiful, orange sunset lighting up the dance floor in the middle. Opposite from the many tables, on the other end of the hall, Slughorn had organised a stage with a cover band. Next to the stage hung a long parchment onto which everyone could write requests.

You spotted your Potions teacher, dressed in a bright green suit, next to Dumbledore, his robes a terrible pink, both of them writing down their song requests.

“A Galleon that Dumbledore is a Spice Girls fan,” Lavender said grinning as she had followed your eyes.

“Bet,” Parvati said, grabbing three drinks from a passing waiter. “Here. Cheers.”

The three of you clinked glasses and took a sip of the red punch – it tasted strongly of various fruits, coconut, and bitter alcohol.

You let your eyes glide further over the hall and the people that sat together in groups around the tables, some of them already eating. Secretly, you were looking for Harry, though you only discovered Ginny in between Luna and Hermione, all of them chatting happily, and a few tables behind them, Theodore.

He waved as he saw you, gesturing to come over. You forced yourself to smile and wave back at him.

“I’ll see you later,” You said, chugging down the rest of your drink.

“Tell us if he’s being an asshole,” Parvati said. “Or really any of them.”

“And have some fun,” Lavender added.

You took one last look at your friends – Parvati in her silk, almond white, slim dress, and Lavender with flowers in her hair, their arms linked together – and swallowed thickly before turning and making your way through the crowd towards Theodore, though you made sure to give the table with Ginny a wide berth.

“Hi, Y/N,” Theodore greeted you, pecking a swift kiss on your left cheek. His eyes, however, were gliding over the room filling with more and more students. “We’ve already ordered some drinks, come on.”

You took a step back after the kiss, blinking quickly, then noticed how the other people around the table were staring at you:

Pansy and Daphne eyed you and your dress dismissively, and Blaise sipped on his wine, eyebrows raised. Only Draco was slumped in his chair and chewed on a gum, not wasting a single glance at you. He looked as uninterested in this Spring Ball as you felt.

An hour ago, you sure as hell wouldn’t have believed to relate to bloody Draco Malfoy.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N,” You said, forcing a smile on your face and holding out your hand towards Pansy, as she sat closest to you. “I like your dress. Matches your earrings.”

That compliment seemed to leave a mark. Her judging look softened and she shook your hand.

After introducing yourself to everyone (well, except Draco, who had only shortly nodded at you), you sat down in between Theodore and Blaise, and ordered something to eat.

Pansy and Daphne were huddled together the whole time, giggling and pointing at others, while Draco raised a complaint about every meal on the menu or really any other small inconvenience that had the unfortune to be spotted by him (“I can’t eat that, it has tomatoes in it. Nothing on here is gluten free. I’ll write father first thing in the morning. Pansy, will you shut the fuck up for a second? That’s not even a real band. God, I hate this place.”).

“He’s a whiny bitch most of the time, but his family has a great holiday chalet in France,” Blaise said to you after Draco had shot you an annoyed look for asking if you should ask the band to play a different song. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be friends with him.”

“I hope you choke on that disgusting wine,” Draco muttered, and you chuckled.

“Sure, darling,” Blaise replied, sharing a look with you. Until now, Blaise had surprisingly talked the most with you, and it turned out he wasn’t half as bad as you had always thought he would be.

Theodore on the other hand had only occasionally asked you how your meal was and how long you had planned to stay. His eyes had not held contact with yours for longer than a second and were still searching for something in the crowd, which was – by the way – having fun on the dance floor while you had not moved in almost an hour.

It wasn’t until a particularly beautiful girl from Ravenclaw strode past your table that Theodore hooked his foot around the leg of your chair to pull you closer and placed his hand on your upper thigh, giving you his full attention for the first time that night.

“Have I told you that you look very pretty tonight?” He asked, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“Er – no,” You said, darting a confused look towards the Ravenclaw girl.

“Well, you do,” Theodore went on and turned your head back to face him by stroking his thumb over your cheek before pressing his lips onto the skin beneath your ear. They felt chapped and not pleasant in any way. You cringed.

“Uh, sorry, but that’s maybe a bit early, don’t you think?” You said, drawing back and shoving his hand from your thigh.

“She’s gone anyway, Theo,” Blaise said. You did not understand.

“Who’s gone?” You asked, looking back and forth between Theodore and the others, who all seemed to know something you didn’t. Pansy giggled.

“Nothing,” Theodore said. His sweet voice had turned bitter, and you felt like that was your fault. He stood up. “I’ll get some more punch.”

The band segued from an upbeat song into a much slower one, and the light of the candles magically dimmed.

“Do you want to dance maybe?” You asked Theodore as a way to make up for your rejection, but he had already pushed past a group of chatting seventh years, not turning around.

You sank back into your chair, picking at the tulle of your dress again. Was it too early to tell Lavender and Parvati that you wanted to go back to your dorm?

“Girl, if I were you, I would get out of here as quickly as possible,” Blaise said. You looked up at him. “He’s not worth it. And he’s not here for you. So don’t waste your energy.”

“But he asked me to the ball,” You said weakly.

“Did he? Or did he just ask for some time with you to make his ex-girlfriend jealous?”

“He – well – he…”

But Blaise looked at you and you knew that he was right, that this was never about you but some other girl. It was always about some other girl.

“Excuse me, I’ll get some fresh air,” You said and made your way through the tables towards the doors.

The last time, everyone had watched him. Now it was Harry’s turn to watch everyone else try their best on the dance floor. He wasn’t sure what was worse; to be laughed at by the others while stepping on Parvati’s feet every other second or to watch not only Hermione and Ron but also Ginny and Luna, as well as Seamus and Dean dancing closely, arms around the other.

They all had no idea what they were doing, Harry could tell, but they were having fun anyway. He had never seen Hermione this happy.

“Oh, flashback.”

Harry looked up. Parvati sat down next to him on the chair that Ron had left over half an hour ago.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, taking another sip of butterbeer, and turned back to the dance floor right in time to see Dean kissing Seamus passionately in the middle of the room.

“And you are not dancing because…?” Parvati asked. Harry crossed his arms.

“If you’re here to make fun of me or to blow up my butterbeer, feel free to fuck off.”

Parvati chuckled. “Sorry about that. But seriously, why are you sitting here miserably after all those dance lessons?”

Harry tried to make out if she was actually serious or if this was her way to revenge herself for the Yule Ball.

“Are you kidding me?” He asked. Parvati narrowed her eyebrows, now visibly puzzled.

“No, I’m genuinely asking –”

“Well, it’s not that fucking easy to slow dance if you have no date, is it,” He said crossly.

Parvati gaped at him, but he was certainly not in the mood for this. It had cost him all his strength to not look for you in the crowd all evening, he did not need reminding of you not liking him back by Parvati.

Before she could say anything else, he placed his butterbeer bottle on the table and darted outside, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his suit and eyes directed to the floor.

Harry’s feet guided him towards the courtyard. The music played by the band wasn’t as loud out here, and the cold night air was lively in contrary to the sticky, perfumed air inside the Great Hall.

He kicked some of the grass away and walked towards the bench underneath the willow, watching how its branches weighed in the wind and thought how you were probably having as much fun as his friends, or maybe even more, considering Nott was infamous for snogging in various broom closets.

Harry’s stomach turned at the thought of that. He wished he had a time turner to make it right.

The moon stood high on the deep blue night sky, illuminating the courtyard you had unconsciously walked to. Grey clouds had approached, and tiny raindrops were falling to the ground, steadily drumming onto the roofs of Hogwarts.

On your way out of the Great Hall, you had caught a glimpse of Theodore sticking his tongue down the throat of that Ravenclaw girl, but to be honest, it didn’t matter that he was making out with someone else. It would’ve just been nice if you could have had a forewarning.

You thought you were the only single soul wandering about, then spotted a figure sitting on a bench. You were about to turn and search for some other place to wallow in your feelings, when you recognised the messy hair.

Maybe this was the time to make up for running away. Maybe this was the time to be honest.

Harry looked up when he noticed someone coming closer, the tulle of your dress rustling over the wet grass. His heart jumped and he forgot to breathe for a moment.

“Hello,” You said, voice echoing over the empty courtyard. “Can I sit?”

“Of course.”

Harry scooted to the side to make some space for you. You sat down next to him, leaving maybe a hand width between the two of you. The wide branches of the willow guided you from the cold rain.

“You weren’t dancing,” You said, staring at the grass instead of his face.

You would understand if he did not want to talk, if he just walked away. He didn’t owe you an explanation for why he had not asked you to the ball or why was sitting here instead of inside with Ginny or whoever he had asked.

“You weren’t either, were you?” Harry replied. “You and Nott.”

“No, he’s busy with someone else, so… no. Not dancing.”

“Oh.” Harry shuffled. His knee bumped against yours. “Well, he’s an idiot then.”

You smiled, not moving your knee away from his.

“Yeah…but I don’t mind, really.”

“You should,” Harry said, and he meant it. No one should be treated like that. “If anyone should be dancing, it’s you.”

You looked up at him. Harry was already watching you, and it filled you with warmth despite the freezing cold. There wasn’t a single sign of hurt on his face, just a soft curiosity lying in his green eyes.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, “for running away last Friday. I had to sort out some things.”

“What things?” He asked quietly.

“Some…” Your heartbeat sped up. Be honest, you told yourself. “Some feelings.”

“Oh.” Harry tried to figure out what you meant by that, but the way you looked at him made his mind go blank. “You mean you…”

“I really like dancing with you,” You said. Harry felt his heart beating faster than ever against his ribcage. He wondered if you could hear it. “And I wouldn’t have done those lessons with anyone.”

The music from inside the Great Hall was growing louder, overshadowing the rain; someone must’ve opened the doors to let in some fresh air. The band was playing a slower, French song and it stung in your heart. It was one of your favourites.

When you turned back to Harry, he was standing up. For a second you thought he wanted to leave, to go back inside, then –

“May I have this dance?” Harry held out is right hand, and you did not have to think twice if you should take it or not.

He helped you up from the bench and led into the middle of the lawn, the rain still pattering onto the grass and the stone tiles. It smelled strongly of petrichor, and you thought that this was much closer to spring than the decorations in the Great Hall.

Harry’s hand found its place on your back, pulling you closer to him. You placed your hand on his shoulder, tapping his skin with your finger in time to the music out of habit, and met his eyes, reflecting the moon light in them.

Had you ever told him how beautiful he was?

The two of you moved, swaying back and forth. Harry realised that he did not even need to concentrate on the steps, he knew them by heart. The closeness of you took his breath away, the way your fingers held onto his, the way there was little to no room between your torso and his. You were smiling at him, despite the cold and the rain. Harry felt his stomach tingling.

“What’s it called?” Harry asked quietly, not wanting to drown out the music.

“‘Je Te Laisserai Des Mots’. I’ll leave you words,” You translated, having memorised the lyrics in your mind. “I’ll leave you words underneath your door, underneath the singing moon. Near the place where your feet pass by…hidden in the holes of wintertime and when you’re alone for a moment.”

You paused and Harry’s eyes fell to his feet, not able to take your gaze any longer. There were words on the tip of his tongue he did not dare to say – afraid, to ruin the moment. He wanted to stay here forever.

“Eyes up,” You said, placing your hand underneath his chin to lift his head up.

More French words reached your ears; Harry figured they were the same sentence repeated over and over, but even if he had been able to understand French, he wouldn’t have been able to translate them because of your hand still resting under his chin.

“Kiss me whenever you want,” You whispered. “Kiss me whenever you want. Kiss me –”

And then, Harry let go of his fears and kissed you.

After all it still took you by surprise how he loosened his fingers from yours to cup your face, pulling you as close to him as possible, until there was no space in between, noses bumping against each other. Both of your hands slung themselves around his neck, caressing his skin and driving up through messy hair.

His lips matched yours, gliding smoothly over one another, smearing your lip gloss everywhere until all you tasted was strawberries and sweet alcohol. With his chest against yours, Harry was glad to notice your heart beating as fast as his did, though that was also because he really needed to breathe – not that he wanted to, he would have been totally okay with never breaking away from the kiss if it was always going to feel this soft and freeing.

It was you in the end that had to carefully pull his face away from yours, heavily breathing in and out. You brushed his wet hair out of his forehead and let your fingers slide over his temples and cheeks down to his neck.

“That offer,” Harry began breathlessly, tucking a strand of hair he had accidentally drawn from your pinned-up hair behind your ear, “about continuing the dance lessons…that still stands, right?”

Your lips curved upwards into a smile. “Of course.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said, mirroring your smile before leaning down again to close the gap between your lips.

#Harry Potter #Harry James Potter #harry potter x reader #harry james potter x reader #fluff #oneshot #my writing #angst #slow burn

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yangsrose · 2 years

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bubble gum - park jisung

genre: angst, unrequited love

song that fic is based on: bubble gum - clairo

word count: 1910 words

warnings: HEAVY angst, main character death, mentions of being sick, jisung has the hanahaki disease

authors notes: this has been in my drafts for so long but i've finally finished it! i hope you like it :D

Sorry I didn't kiss you

But it's obvious I wanted to

Bubble gum down my throat and it's a curse

But my luck couldn't get any worse

Jisung watched as you subconsciously wrinkled your nose while in deep concentration. The sides of his lips tilted upwards against his own will, and he began to subconsciously smile as he watched you finally manage to get your drawing perfected. His heart skipped a beat as you excitedly turned to him and showed him the drawing, which consisted of a lone person standing in a field of pink flowers. The picture almost seemed realistic, making him feel as if it was his hair blowing in the wind and not the hair of the person in the picture.

“What does it mean?” He asked, not quite understanding why you would draw that out of all the things.

“Pink camellias symbolise a longing for someone, usually in the sense of love. The person standing alone in the field shows the way that they’re longing for someone, but are too afraid to confess their feelings towards them.” As you were saying all of this, Jisung noticed how you were staring directly at him, as if you had known a secret that you were supposed to know about him.

As you spoke, the overwhelming feeling of getting sick overtook Jisung and he tried to fight off the feeling as best as he could, but inevitably failed as he excused himself and practically ran off the bathroom, feeling his throat get dry and scratchy. Right as he made his way to the small toilet, he felt a small yet concerning amount of flower petals spew out of his mouth, causing his eyes to go wide as he saw the bright pink petals that were now floating in the water.

“Pink Camellias. How ironic” Jisung thought as he dryly chuckled, a weariness from the nausea taking over him.

Jisung, just like everyone else, had heard about the Hanahaki disease. He had never expected it to happen to him however, thinking that it would only happen to people who were madly in love with someone else. Yet here he was, falling for his best friend and realising that he did not have any chance with you just solely based on the flowers that arose from inside him. He heard you lightly tap on the door and ask him if he was okay, to which he responded that he must have eaten something weird to have a reaction like that. You softly asked him if you could come inside, to which he harshly said no, he was fine and didn’t need any assistance. Hearing you walk away broke his heart even more and he felt another slew of petals come up his throat. He swallowed hard and got up to rinse his mouth, making eye contact with himself in the mirror in the process.

His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his nose turning slightly red as well. Jisung looked as if he had been crying for days, and he hated it. A helpless feeling took over him, and his sudden urge to cry overwhelmed him. Out of all the people, why you?

You look so nice in your shirt

It's sad because it just hurts

I'd do anything for you

But would you do that for me, too?

Jisung watched as you tried to find a matching outfit for the date that you had later that day, fretting over the colour combinations that didn’t seem to look right. Jisung had to admit, you looked exceptionally cute in your oversized t-shirt and shorts, while basically throwing your entire wardrobe out of your closet while trying to find clothes to wear for the date that you were planning on going on. Just the thought of you going on a date with someone was enough to make him feel sick again, the familiar feeling of flower petals coming up in his throat.

So far it had been a month since he began to throw up flower petals, each time producing more petals and inducing more pain that he could manage. Even though Jisung hated the feeling that he would get whenever he was with you, the pain seemed to subside as you would occasionally flash him a wide smile, coming all too fast however, as he smiled back. Pain would shoot up, staring at his heart and going throughout his esophagus and ending at his mouth, where bubblegum pink petals would inevitably end up coming out.

“How about this shirt?” Jisung shifted his focus to you holding up a flannel, and he nodded in approval of the selection. You pulled it over your tshirt and stuck a silly pose, showing off your outfit to Jisung. He laughed lightly, but stopped because of the sharp pain that went up his chest.

Jisung wasn’t afraid of many things, but falling in love with you was one of the most scary things that he had ever done. But despite all the warning signs going off in his brain, he decided to ignore them and chose to spend more time with you, knowing that the more time that he spent with you, he was closer to his demise. Rather than stopping him, that seemed to fuel his case to spend more time with you. He soon came to realise that it wasn’t you he was scared off, rather, he was scared of the feelings that he would have when he was with you. Pain had never felt better when it was mixed with love.

'Cause I swallowed the bubble gum

Oh, and these seven years will be pretty dumb

Oh, pink flowers grow from my skin

Oh, Pepto Bismol veins and I grin

The pain was unbearable. Jisung had been living with this pain for the past few years, but today it seemed like his heart was about to rip out of his chest. He hoped it wouldn’t, since he had spent a lot of money on the suit that he was currently wearing.

The seven years filled with strewn flower petals were laced in anguish as Jisung tried, and failed every time, to get rid of any feelings for you. And yet here he was, seven years later, fixing his suit as he willed his stomach to stay settled as he got ready for your wedding. Even though Jisung hated to admit it, he had to say that Jeno was a huge step up from your past exes. Upon seeing him for the first time, Jisung was quite intimidated with his strong aura and prepared himself to face your heart aches once again. As time passed however, Jisung began to realise the softness that Jeno held for you under his ough facade.

Now here he was, ready to be a groomsman at Jeno’s and your wedding. He realised that he should have said something, anything for that matter, but all Jisung did these past years was sit on the sidelines and watch as you met new people, fell in love with them, and ended up finding your soulmate in the process.

He had managed to make it through the whole ceremony without rushing to the bathroom, an accomplishment that he was very proud of considering the fact that he could taste the sickeningly sweet bubble gum flavoured petals rising up in his throat throughout the vows.

During the reception however, Jisung felt the familiar sickening feeling rise up his throat and he quickly excused himself, pushing past the crowd that was slowly forming around the appetisers. Jisung ran into the nearest bathroom and saw the all too familiar bright pink flower petals float to the top, mixed with a bright red liquid. Jisung’s panic and tears only increased as he saw the mix of colours through blurry vision, realising that the problem had gotten far too worse for him to ignore. After spending a painstaking amount of time hunched over the toilet, Jisung finally mustered up the strength to get up and rinse his mouth out in the sink. He took deep breaths to stop the tears that threatened to rise again before exiting the stall.

The last thing he expected to see however, was Jeno himself staring at Jisung with the most concerned expression on his face. Seeing Jeno made Jisung feel sick all over again, except this time out of nervousness due to Jeno seeing him in that state. What if he realised Jisung’s feelings and came to confront him about it?

“Are you okay?” Jeno asked, cautiously stepping closer to Jisung as if he was a fragile object that would break if he got too close.

“I’m okay. I think I ate something weird last night which made me sick” Jisung said, nervously laughing as a means of reassuring Jeno that he was fine. Jeno smiled back at Jisung, seemingly buying the lie that he had told.

“I think I’ll head home now. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to stay for the entire wedding.”

“Don’t worry! I’ll tell y/n that you weren’t feeling too well. I’m glad that you came for the ceremony though. Y/n was really happy that you were here today.” Jeno said, a fond smile overtaking his features as he mentioned your name. The pain shot up Jisung’s body and he weakly smiled while hugging Jeno and bidding him goodbye, basically ripping him in half as he felt his own heart quite literally rip in half as well. Jisung quietly left the venue and walked over to his car, sending you a text regarding his sudden absence. He knew you wouldn’t see it until much later, but he didn’t want you to worry and think that he left without saying goodbye to you.

The drive back home was painful for him. Not only had it sunk in that he had basically given away his best friend and only lover, but he also felt it suddenly hard to breathe. His throat constricted and he was constantly gasping for breath on the way back to his apartment. After what had seemed like forever, he finally made it back home and ran into the bathroom, throwing up more flower petals. This time however, the red splotches only increased in amount. Jisung slowly got up from the ground and staggered over to his bed, feeling dizzy and uncoordinated. He fell onto his bed ratherly harshly, and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Jisung didn’t dream much, but that night he dreamed of running in a flower field, only realising after a while that it was the same flower field that he saw you paint a few years ago. Pink camellias surrounded him everywhere, tickling his legs and brushing over him with their soft petals.

“Jisung!” he heard you call out to him, and he whipped around, frantically trying to look for you. He saw you running towards him, and began running towards you. But as he got closer to you, he was sent even further back from where he started. Every breath began to feel like a struggle as he tried to get to where you were, and suddenly, he lost sight of you. Frantically looking around, he panicked at the way that there was no sign of you ever being there. Jisung called your name multiple times until suddenly, he wasn’t in the field of camellias anymore either. Spiralling into a black abyss, the last thing Jisung heard was the sound of you calling his name.

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bloodycassian · 3 years

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Reader x Cassian - Hellish Prompt: Reader is an assassin/spy that was caught and azriel has spent months torturing her for information and can’t get anything out of her and cassian eventually goes to see who this assassin/spy is and the mating bond snaps and cassian beats the $hitt out of az bc of the mating bond instincts and rhys has to intervene and break up the fight (i was thinking this could switch between azriel’s POV at the start and then switch to cassian's POV)

AN- this was SO fun to make. Please more requests like this!! I love the idea of unexpected mates!

TW -blood/ blades.

Drip, drip, drip. Copper smell filled the small room. Blood leaked down the drain in the floor. You wheezed a laugh bitterly and spat on the ground at his feet. Azriel's rage simmered calmly under his dark shadows. They coiled, ready to strike. Wanting to strike. The sound of your feeble laughs was practically the only sound Azriel had gotten from you for the first week of torture. The second week was worse, even for him. Truth teller revealed nothing when he gouged into your skin from the bottom up. Truthfully, he was impressed beyond measure. But that didnt mean that he could stop the job at hand. He had to know, and wished he didnt have to do this kind of thing to get the information from you. "Listen..." He sighed, cleaning his blade. He was always nervous whenever he had a back turned to an enemy, no matter how well they were restrained. But he trusted his shadows enough to tell him if something was wrong. "If you just.. Cooperate and tell me where the Queens are, we can let you go. No trouble, just releasing you back to Rask." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was nearing an exhaustion point. Torture every day for two weeks had its toll not only on the victim, but the dealer as well. His shadows seemed to be growing restless too, waiting for a chance to strike. He watched your reaction from the corner of his eye. Noted the way your head hanging loosely seemed to gain a bit more strength before you spoke. "Losing your touch, Spymaster?" You revealed a row of bloody teeth to him, and grunted when the chains at your wrists stung the magic that weakly attempted to help you. Azriel could have sighed. He could have laughed and bled you dry. Have a healer come and patch you up enough to keep you alive. The idea was tempting, but he didn't like having anyone besides his brothers see him in this mode of darkness. He could have brought Rhys down to attempt to break into your mind again. After the first attempt and Rhys' reaction to being blocked, he wasn't eager for that again. So he sighed, and brought out the potions laced with Faebane. + He was convinced you weren't a normal Fae. After months of his best torture methods he was a wreck. "She just-" He tried to hide his frustration, but his brothers knew him best. Cassian smirked by the fire, warming his wings. Rhys seemed a bit more concerned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Azriel had never been one to spend a long time on torture. Rhys saw the frustration flowing from him after every session with the stubborn Fae in the dungeon cell. "I dont know what to do anymore. She's the only one to have never broken." He ran a hand though his hair. His shadows seemed weak, exhausted like him. Rhys considered for a moment, looking between his two brothers. Cassian seemed to be enjoying Azriel's frustration. Maybe a bit too much. Rhys sipped his wine then, with a look of innocence, "Maybe we will have Cassian end it. Perhaps seeing the Lord of Death in front of her will knock something loose." Cassian's stare whipped to him, a silent plea on his face. "We should leave it to our expert Rhys-" Azriel laughed, cold and bitter. "The expert hasn't got a damn thing out of her. We either kill her or send her back to Rask with all the information she's collected about us. With nothing in return." Shame lined his features. The sense of failure to his high lord was a heavy weight to bear. "Cas...I expect you down there tomorrow afternoon. It will be her last chance." Rhys' no nonsense tone shut down Cassian's retort. His jaw locked with distaste. He hated the cramped cells below the house of wind. Hated the way going underground made his wings feel like they needed to stretch. The worst was when that stale air was laced with the rotting smell of dead mice or old blood. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it. "Come on Cas, dont you want to see the only one that's outlasted me?" Az asked with a mock grin. He couldn't give the same smile back. Turmoil spilled inside him at the thought of going so far below the mountain. + Cassian took a long time to go to bed that night. His restlessness about the next day made him wake up over and over, never having more than an hour of peace before being waken up. Azriel held up a mug of tea to him the next morning. "You look like shit." He handed his brother the mug with a small smile. Cassian glared at him, but took it anyway. He went to the balcony, his heavy wings needing to feel the fresh air. It was like taking a bath after being covered in grime. He sighed in relief, letting the late morning sun graze his body. The cold wind from Illyria was beginning to come in for the winter, and the familiar smell ignited something in him. He felt a draw, but shoved it to the back of his mind. He knew what he had to be this day. "Why the hell do we have to keep them so far down again?" Cassian complained. Around and around and around. Down deeper and deeper into the pit of the mountain that the house above was carved out of. Cassian felt like his lungs were collapsing the further they went. He tried not to let his nerves show, but he knew Az's shadows would pick up on it anyway. "Remember when you broke your arm chasing down that Attor?" Azriel could have laughed at that memory, but the story surrounding it made the experience soured. More shame on top of the guilt already there. Cassian hummed in approval, welcoming the distraction the memory brought. He tried not to focus on how each turn of the staircase got darker and darker. How the air seemed to compress around him. He locked his eyes on the scar on one of Az's wings. "And we spent a week fixing the top story of that apothecary?" He asked, keeping his voice steady. "Yes. Dont you remember how the Attor got out?" Cassian shook his head, and Azriel huffed a laugh. "I left the door open for just a second to get a new knife and..." He shook his head, part in anger and regret, part in shame. "It had escaped before I turned around. I dont know how it happened, to this day." Cassian stared at the back of the shadowmaster's head. The dark ripples around him seemed to spike. "It happens Az, you can't be perfect." "It's not perfection, its basic thought. After that we moved all enemies to the lower dungeons. No matter the threat. Rhys even put wards on the arches." He ran a hand over the walls, his fingers catching a few of the grooves that linked each spelled archway to the other. Cassian left the conversation at that. At least his brother wasn't brooding as much as before. The dim lights began to come into view, and his heart began hammering. Adrenaline singing through his veins. His polished siphons glowed, reflecting red off the dark stone ceiling. He had polished all his black armor the night before, when he couldn't sleep. Something poked, prodded at him all night. Keeping him awake. He figured he may as well make use out of it. "She's not going to talk to you unless you show..weakness first." Azriel said in a low voice. Cassian nodded, reaching the end of the stairwell with him. Cassian couldn't see the dark figure in the cell, but he felt the presence nonetheless. The dark draw that you demanded. He wondered how Azriel had dealt with that pull this whole time. The tantalizing draw to you. He shook his head, pushed the hair out of his face and nodded to Azriel. He opened the door, then began his ritual. At the start of every session he would toss a bucket of water over your body, then a bucket of salt. It made the wounds that handn't healed fully scream in pain. You jolted at the suddenness of it this time. "Good morning, shadowsinger." You ground out, voice rough with strain. Cassian watched in awe at his brother. Cassian was never one for torture. There was a reason Azriel was appointed to this position. Watching the calm cruelness of him was jarring, but Cassian kept his face straight. He stood behind you, watching the flimsy attempts to pull at the shackles holding your arms up. Lacerations dotted each arm, some light pink scars. Some were still scabbing over. A chill ran down his spine. "You have a guest today, would you like to see him?" Azriel's voice was cool, calm. Like he was speaking orders to a group of soldiers. He began slicing new lines into your arms, moving up to your neck. He had left your ears in tact, as a last resort if you refused to speak to Cassian. The pull Cassian felt was overwhelming. He walked a bit too quickly around you, plastered on a wicked smile for show, then crouched down. The smile faded when he finally saw your face. Your dripping hair was a horror on its own. Plastered to the skeletal cheekbones, and pale eyes. Those eyes were brighter than anything he'd ever seen. A field of flowers down the slope of Illyrian mountains. His world shifted, drawing the breath from him. "Mine." His mind seemed to roar with that alone, but in a thousand different variations. "Lover, friend, partner, mine mine mine. Mate. My mate." His lips quivered with the realization. With the way his heart soared, and the way he moved without realizing it. He choked a gasp, and fell forward on his knees before you. He saw the same astonishment in your reaction. Azriel dropped his sword, confusion and concern alert on his features. "Cas wh-" Before he could finish, before his shadows could detect that Cassian had even moved, his brother was on top of him. Cassian's knuckles stung with every punch. A new kind of rage flared inside him. It made his muscles yearn for violence. Made his teeth crave the flesh of those that so much as looked at you wrong. There was no mercy for Azriel, it was as if he was an enemy on the battlefield. Cassian held nothing back. You hung limply from the chains that bound you. Crunch after crunch sounded from Azriel. He eventually managed to push Cassian off of him. Then they locked together in battle again. Clashes of armor against armor were deafening. The snarls they ripped at each other were loud enough to make you cringe. Your heart squeezed at the sounds of Cassian's breath. At the scent of blood spilling. You pulled feebly at the chains, your mind roaring to protect him. Your mate. You tried to watch the battle, but the weakness in your body refused to let you turn more than a few inches. They were panting, Cassian fighting with a ferocity Azriel had never seen. His eyes flared with rage, like he was possessed. "Cas-" Azriel grunted, shoving his brother backwards. His back hit yours, pushing you down and digging those stone cuffs into your wrists. You hissed in pain. Cassian roared and lunged at his brother again, and again. The darkness that boomed outside the cell was jarring. The stone ceiling shuddered, small rocks and dirt falling from it. Cassian did not stop. He didn't hesitate, coming at Azriel with punch after punch. His fist crushed the wall behind where Az's head had been.

"Enough." The high lord's cool command was enough to make you still your weak attempts at looking at the two. Cassian's chest heaved as he tried lifting his arm to punch Az again. Pure fury in his heart was enough to make him disobey Rhysand's order.

Then Rhys' talons gripped him. Freezing his mind, stilling him. Rhys' face shifted to surprise at what he glimpsed at there. "Oh.." He breathed. Azriel panted, backing away from his brother, out of the cell. He locked the cell and wiped the blood from himself, his wings hanging limply behind him. "What- the hell." He panted, nursing his arm. Cassian's eyes locked to your small frame. How your muscles quivered, how your arms shook with the effort of holding yourself up. He felt Rhys' claws recede slowly from his mind, releasing each part of him one by one. He rushed to you. He picked up Azriel's sword and with a clean, masterful swipe, broke the enchanted stone that bound you. The weak sigh that came from you was heartbreaking. His eyes pricked with tears, and he caught you before you could fall to the floor into the puddle of dried blood. He didnt notice, or care that it was there. He sat there with you, cradled you and shook with you.

"Cassian... She's.. Cassian's mate." Rhys said slowly, astonished. He didn't take his eyes from his brother in the cell. Azriel froze in place. For a moment, the dungeon was completely still. Totally silent, as if the world waited for what was to come next.

Azriel turned on a heel and left, trudging up the stairs. Rhys dared not touch his mind. "Cassian...." He spoke, trying to get his brother's attention. He did not glance at Rhys, just curled around your body more. Protecting, nesting almost. Rhys knew the feeling too well from the weeks after he and Feyre's bond snapped into place. "We will check in tomorrow. Be safe, brother." Rhys spoke to Cassian's mind. It was nothing but an ocean of rushing thoughts. Cassian could have bared his teeth, could have tried to fight his brother through the bars of the cell. Hell, he could have probably broken through those bars with the primal strength flowing through him with the rush from the bond.

But he didn't. He stayed, his warm body pressed against yours. Those siphons glowing against your skin like a fire. He stroked your hair soothingly, his tears like rainfall on your body, through your bloodstained clothes. He didn't remember falling asleep there, but it was the most restful, peaceful night he'd ever had in his existence.

#acotar #acotar fic #reader x cassian #cassian fic #cassian #azriel mention rhys mention #cassian x reader

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shotorozu · 4 years

Text

you like their hands

character(s) : shinsou hitoshi, kirishima eijirou, monoma neito (2/?)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns, quirk left unmentioned

post type : headcanons + small scenario [fluff, the mildest of spice] not even nsfw

note(s) : i was gonna put denki in this but i had a hard time thinking about what kinda hands he’d have, so i’m putting him in the next post

»»————-　♡　————-««

shinsou hitoshi

his hands are big, and his fingers are quite thick.

really likes wearing rings and bracelets, but he usually doesn’t wear them when he’s working (i’d say that bc wearing jewelry while doing physical activity HURTS)

regarding texture, his hands were initially soft— but due to transferring in the hero course, they roughened up over time

he’ll use hand cream if you want, but he doesn’t go the extra mile. and his nails are trimmed at all times. painting his nails a black color would be great once in a while.

lol i forgot to mention nails in the last post

he notices right away that you like his hands when he catches you staring at them when he’s cracking his knuckles

like.. people have said that his hands are nice, but he doesn’t really say much about them bc they’re not you

scenario

a crack sound is briefly heard in the rather silent room. the scrolling on your phone halts, and your eyes follow the sound of the crack.

ah, he’s cracking his knuckles. you think to yourself, and you’re left just simply admiring the way he applies pressure on a knuckle. who knew that his rather— large hand would look appealing, even while cracking his knuckles.

you snap out of your observation, but instead of just simply going back to whatever you were doing, you’re met with lilac eyes. “you were staring again.”

your cheeks heat up, and you opt to just turn your head to the opposite direction. “sorry,” you apologize. however— that’s not what hitoshi was looking for apparantly.

“if you like my hands alot,” he scoots next to you, hands sliding up and down your arms— his firm grip practically making the pre existing butterflies in your stomach act up again. “then you should’ve said so, kitty.”

is he conscious of his actions? hm. you could say that

he’ll purposely play with his capture tool right in front of you— the material wrapping around his hand. and he can only laugh when you immediately get absorbed into it

the back of his hand will brush against your cheek. then, when he comes in to kiss you, he’ll cup your cheek— kissing you with his other hand resting at your nape

under the table, his hand will start to slide against yours, interlocking hands with you. he’ll act like nothing is happening, but on the inside— he’s taking in your reaction

a little spicy, but when he wants you to look at him— he’ll do that thing where his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, as it almost dips right into your mouth

if he feels a little extra, his hand will also be tugging on your hair (if you’re fine with that. otherwise, he’s sticking to the one above)

oh and he also does that thing where he rests his hand on your neck, thick fingers squeezing your throat lightly.

overall— THIS MAN omg, he’ll entertain your interest in his hand nicely, just for you. and every single thing he does is memorable

kirishima eijirou

his hands are quite normal regarding size, they are almost always veiny, a lot more than bakugou’s actually. i think at some point he was concerned about them

his hands are rather flushed in color, but that’s because of his quirk. his fingers have a few tiny scars here and there,

he occasionally has pen marks on his wrists due to bad penmanship, and his nails.. don’t look the best, but they’re not the worst it’s bc of his quirk

the palms of his hands are ridden with callouses. but he wears them with pride because it’s the pure evidence of his hard work with his training.

but he starts to get worried about them when he goes to hold your hand.

you always had a thing for kirishima’s hands, but you just never had the chance to tell him that. i guess asking you did it for him

scenario

did you even realize how hard you were staring at his hands right now? it happened every single time he enlaced his arms around you, his hands resting at the sides of your arms

at first, he thought it might’ve been because his hands are too rough, or you might’ve been in discomfort— because maybe, just maybe, he accidentally activated his quirk?

the fact that he can’t exactly tell what it is worried him, maybe he should just ask you.

but his worry washed off when you told him upfront that you ‘liked his hands’

“wait so.. you’re staring at my hands because you like them?” kirishima wants to confirm your words, and— so casually, by the way— nod in agreement.

tracing the veins on his hands, you elaborate “your hands are really nice, i can tell how hard you must’ve worked.” pressing your smaller hand against his, you smile.

eijirou takes a moment to process it, but it’s surprisingly quick. “oh t-thanks!” he sheepishly took the compliment, a small blush sporting on his cheeks. “i’m glad it wasn’t because you thought they were weird.”

kirishima unintentionally feeds your interest with his hands. like sometimes.. he’s just not aware of it, but yes— he is feeding your interest well

will always make you compare hand sizes with him, chuckling softly at the dazed look on your face when your palms touch

if you allow him, he’ll fix your hair for you. doesn’t matter what hair type you have, he’ll do LOTS of research to know how to style it

those hands are magical

if you get a papercut, or a wound from cooking— he’ll patch you up, then he’ll press a kiss on the bandaid.

he’ll do this thing where he’ll squeeze your sides when you pull in for a hug. but if you’re not okay with that, he’ll opt to just rubbing your back with his hand— rocking you softly as he hugs you

a little spicy, but his hands do wander a lot. you might need to even hold them in place to make sure they don’t go too wild

in addition to that, he’ll just SLIGHTLY, activate his quirk to make sure you’re conscious of his touch. his finger tips gliding against your back, sending shivers down your spine.

but of course, he’s careful. he doesn’t activate it to the point it causes scratch marks, nor will his actions draw blood. he doesn’t wanna do that

in short— kirishima’s a little clueless at first. he wouldn’t really tease you in public, but he’s surprisingly attentive to your interest.

monoma neito

his hands are on the tipping edge of slightly above average. he doesn’t have a lot of veins on his hands, but they do pop out depending on what quirk he’s using

monoma’s hands are pretty spotless of any scars (from cuts, abrasions, etc.) because he gets REALLY annoyed with wounds pretty easily

to the point he’d want to attend to the wound immediately, he doesn’t let them sit— it’s just a personal preference

his nails are at the perfect length. not too long and not too short to the point it hurts, you don’t know how he does it.

wears watches on his wrists, and not the digital type— he sorta acts like he can read it easily, but it takes him a few seconds to even get to know the time

you know this because kendo snitched on him and told you LOL

you secretly hate yourself for this, but you really like his hands because of how he takes care of them. you’d never tell monoma even though you’re dating him

scenario

you’re unsure of yourself on how your boyfriend— monoma, found out about your fascination with his hands. it was supposed to be a secret for the rest of your life, and you only remember talking about it once out loud

which you assumed was a close call, considering that you thought he didn’t hear it at all— but he did.

“so i heard you like my hands, huh Y/N?” monoma’s teasing tone does not aid the situation. your cheeks heat up with embarassment, and you can’t get yourself to answer his question— without sounding like a fool anyway.

you fake annoyance, “where’d that come from?” you ask, and monoma doesn’t seem to want to switch the topic

“i’m asking you a question, dear Y/N— i heard you like my hands,” his tone would’ve sounded condescending to any other person, but you can tell that he’s either genuinely curious

or just teasing you, because that’s how he is.

to aid his question, he brushes his fingers along your neck— near your pulse. you jolt, stunned by the sudden action— heart beating rapidly against your chest.

“see,” monoma presses his hand against your chest, where your heart is palpitating, grinning in a way that’s teasing you “it’s true, isn’t it? sweet Y/N has a thing for my hands, hm?”

you furrow your eyebrows, and flick his forehead— and he hisses in reaction, “fine then, i do like your hands.” you finally give in, admitting final defeat.

ever since then, you haven’t heard the end of it

definitely that person that’ll just randomly bring it up to you, no matter what hour of the day it is.

“oh Y/N, you were totally fawning over my hands earlier—”

“i will castrate you.”

you know he means well most of the time, but sometimes he just loves teasing the heck out of you.

but that doesn’t mean he neglects your obvious interest in his hands.

he’ll compliment you, he’s a snarky person in general— but to you, he’s totally smooth with it.

slides his hand from your forearm to your hands, only to bring them up to his lips, pressing a kiss against your hand

squeezes your hand everytime he sees you, it’s kind of a nonverbal greeting at this point

similar to kirishima, he likes comparing hand sizes— teasing you about the size difference (even if it’s not even a big of a difference, he’ll take that chance.)

does this thing where he rubs his thumb against his palm. does it a lot when he’s concentrated about something, or just out of the blue

a little spicy, but he’ll make you tell him what you like about his hands, and what you like about the things he does with those hands of his. if that makes sense

he wants all of the details, doesn’t care if it’s mundane, or things he does when he’s feeling a certain way.

he wants to know, because as soon as you’re done with your spewl, he’ll do exactly what you like, teasing you while he’s at it. and so he can start incorporating those habits whenever he’s around you.

totally someone that’ll make you suck on those fingers. oh, but he’ll purposely get some dessert on them— asking you to suck them off

“good grief, i got some dessert on my fingers again. Y/N, come suck them off”

sometimes he’s serious, sometimes he’s just teasing.

overall— it’s pretty adventurous. he starts to act on it as soon as the revelation is revealed to him.

but i’d say he does just fine.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing, and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, translate, repost, or use my work for audio readings without my consent :))

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bajisbabe · 3 years

Text

# IT’S JUST A CIGARETTE

you need a cigarette but he won’t let you have one | Aki x Reader

warnings: smoking, kissing, Aki and the reader enemies if you squint, but the reader is eager to gain his recognition too, the reader is a lil’ naive, lil’ bit of a brat, lil’ bit of a crybaby, and sucks at smoking.

synopsis: Takes place during the mission in Chapter 15. Aki is your partner on said mission. While the others are away, patrolling the halls, you find that you need something to ease the stress, so you take one of his cigarettes. And he doesn’t like that.

song: none.

photo cred (left to right): 1 2 3

You and Aki have been paired up on a mission. Forced to chase down a devil that won’t stop running. And now, it has led you to a floor in which you’re trapped in some kind of labyrinth. And try as you might, you can’t seem to find an exit.

To make matters worse, you and Aki decided to stay behind while the rest of your unit patrolled the halls. Gradually, it began to feel like hours had passed and none of them had returned. Had you known it would take this long, you would’ve gone with them.

Of course, this situation is weighing heavy on your shoulders. It has been hours—or at least that’s what you think. You can’t be sure now that the clock has stopped. Aki has left the room momentarily to check the hallway, and you notice that he’s left his pack of cigarettes on the table.

So you casually stroll up to the pack and decide to take one, feeling no guilt as you doubt he’ll miss a single cigarette. You bring the cigarette to your lips, peering around to see if you can find what you need to light it. Unfortunately for you, he hadn’t left his lighter behind. And before you can find a lighter, Aki comes rushing in through the door.

And he is quick to ruin your attempt at finding some kind of relief.

“No.” He says, snatching the stick from your fingers and tossing it to the ground. He stomps on the tobacco with his foot, grinding it into pieces and staining the carpet below. “M’not letting you smoke that. It’ll rot your bones—”

“But you smoke it!” You whine, throwing your arms out in exasperation. You were stressed and needed something to take the edge off. Surely, a smoke wouldn’t hurt; even if it was your first. “You smoke all the time, and I—”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off coldly, glaring at you from out of the corner of his eye. “If I say you’re not smoking, then you’re not smoking.”

You sit in silence for a moment, pouting some as you glance up at him from under your lashes. He has his back turned, looking out int the hallway to see if he can find your co-workers. You decide to take your chance then, reaching out for the pack of cigarettes and taking another.

Just as you’re about to put it between your lips, he grabs you by the wrist. His grip unyielding as he yanks you closer, “I said, you’re not smoking.” He grits out through bared teeth. “Why won’t you listen to me—?”

“You’re not my dad,” you say childishly. And before you can pull away, his grasp on you tightens to an extent that has your knees buckling. You crumple, hissing in pain as he works the stick from your fingers yet again.

“Don’t argue with me, stupid.” He spat, eyes blank as he took the cigarette from you. He pulls it to his lips, tugging a lighter out of his pocket and lighting the cigarette. He shows no remorse or guilt as you sit there, on the floor, rubbing your wrist as though the pain will go away.

He catches your eye for a brief second, causing you to look away. You despise him. You don’t want anything to do with him. He’s selfish, he’s crude, he’s mean, and he just overall doesn’t treat you very well.

You hate him.

But you have no other option as all the devil hunters have been paired up or assigned to someone else. You and him are a team now, you just wish you weren’t.

“M’supposed to be your partner,” you grumble under your breath. You don’t intend to cry, but you feel a lump forming in your throat and the backs of your eyes are burning. “Yet, you don’t even treat me like an equal.”

He takes a long drag of the cigarette, parting his lips to let the smoke swirl and curl in the air before his eyes. And you’re envious. Tobacco must serve him well if he has a habit of smoking. It must make him feel good or something. You want to feel good too.

“I’ll treat you like an equal when you start acting like one,” he says, quietly and calmly. He always seems so nonchalant about things, never feeling strongly about anything unless it concerns his past or the Gun Devil specifically.

Your nose burns as the room begins to fill with lingering smoke and the scent of tobacco. You try not to make a disgusted expression; trying not to prove his point that you don’t need a cigarette. But you can’t help it as a frown appears on your lips.

He notices immediately, an eyebrow raising and a subtle tug of his lips. But it disappears before you can see it. He approaches you, steady and fast. His waist bent as he sank to your level, “Wanna smoke that bad, huh?”

The smell is enough to make you seriously regret your decision. You try to shake your head, or voice that you’ve changed your mind. But he is already grabbing you by the arm and tugging you to your feet.

“Don’t act shy now,” he says, the cigarette wiggling between his lips. One hand clutches your shoulder, the other working the lit cigarette out of his mouth. You pull back but he doesn’t let go, his fingers holding the cigarette and pressing it to your lips.

You jolt, attempting to push him away. He doesn’t budge, pressing harder until you relent. And you have a split second to note that the tip is damp with what you suspect is his saliva.

“Breathe in,” he says.

You turn away, trying to escape the sudden burning of your lungs. He shows no mercy, clutching your shoulder harder and practically shoving the cigarette into your mouth.

“Breathe in,” he repeats. “Do it now. Show me that you’re my equal.”

His equal. So, that’s what this is about. Your lungs burn as you inhale, taking too quick of a breath and doubling over as he removes the cigarette from your mouth. You cough and gag, spitting up as you try to rid of the taste it left behind.

He again shows no remorse or guilt. He simply takes another drag from the cigarette, seemingly uncaring that the same cigarette was just in your mouth. He taps the end of it against the table, letting the ash fall as he watches you cough and sputter.

“You wanna be treated like my equal, right?” He said, eyeing you from the side. He watches your eyes become glossy and wide as you finally catch your breath. Cruel and inconsiderate and he pushes on with the one-sided conversation. “Then take another drag, and don’t cough it all out this time.”

He holds his hand out, the cigarette balanced between his long fingers. His expression is blank as he waits patiently for you to make a move. You can feel your eyes burning just at the thought of having to take another drag. You don’t even want to entertain his cruelty, but you desperately want him to treat you fairly.

… should you…?

You gulp thickly, throat itchy as you slowly reach out. But before you can touch it, he pulls the cigarette away.

“Uh uh,” he says quietly, no emotion present in his voice. “...C’mere.”

You blink back tears of discomfort, still trying your damnedest not to choke over the remnants of smoke left behind from the first drag. You bite your lip, hesitating. But eventually you come to him. And he beckons you closer and closer until you two are only a breath away.

“Here,” he mumbles. “Do as I say, okay?”

You nod, your eyes on him the whole time. And he feels a strange shudder run down his spine. Something about the way you’re looking at him and how obedient you’re being. He likes it.

“Open your mouth”—you part your lips for him, and he gently places the cigarette on the curve of your lower lip—“Now breathe in. Slowly.”

He watches you take another drag, your chest trembling as you fight back the urge to cough. And you succeed in taking in the smoke. A small smile tugs at his lips as he instructs you again. “Hold it…” his eyes rack over your face, focused intently at every little twitch and jerk. “Now let it all out.”

You rush the exhale, coughing and sputtering again but not as much as before. You don’t notice the hint of admiration in his eyes as he looks at you. There’s something he likes about you—something he never noticed before.

He could’ve sworn he disliked you before. He always thought of you as lazy, ignorant, and overly passive. But something had changed in the last couple of seconds. He liked you.

“Have I”—the rasp of your voice draws his attention—“Have I proved myself yet?” Your eyes are watering, one squeezed shut as you gasp and swallow. Smoking clearly wasn’t for you. But you were desperate to please.

Maybe that’s what he liked. How you seeked recognition. Or maybe, how you fought so hard to prove yourself to him when he was no one special. You must respect him then, if you serve to please.

The corner of his lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. He couldn’t, not with you looking at him. So close, mere inches away from your lips brushing his. And you seemed unbothered by the lack of space between you two. He would take advantage of your naviety to social cues later, but now he had something else in mind.

“No,” he said.

“No?” You repeated, having to clear your throat after hearing how ghastly you sounded. “Whaddya mean ‘no?’”

“I mean, no.” He said, shrugging as he walked past you. Only one or two steps away before he turned to you, having to bite back a cruel grin. He liked toying with you like this. It was nice, and it took the stress of the situation away.

Maybe, he would do this more often. You could have his cigarettes in turn, and he could play with you instead. He wouldn’t need the sticks if he had you.

“One more.” He said quietly. “One more drag and I’ll consider you my equal.”

You stood in silence for a moment, unsure of whether or not to believe him. What little you knew of Aki hadn’t brought you to believe that he was a bad guy. He didn’t seem like the type to toy with others, not that you knew of. But you didn’t know much it seems. Foolishly agreeing with a curt nod of the head, “Okay.”

You tried to snatch the cigarette from his hand, far too confident in your ability to do as he asked. But like before, he dodged you. Eyes narrowing as he gestured you to come closer. His fingers curl as you follow his lead.

“This one’ll be different.” He said.

“What?” You muttered. “Well, that’s not fair. Why should this one be different if the other two were—”

“You wanna be my equal or not?”

That shut you up. With a huff, you glanced over at him, waiting for further instruction. His heart stuttered at the sight of your obedience. You were listening to him and without fuss. He found it intriguing.

“C’mere.” He said.

You wanted to argue, to say that you couldn’t get any closer considering you were already as close as could be. But you didn’t bother, knowing he would likely just shut you down and cut you off again.

You pressed closer, your bodies brushing against each other. And for a split second, you thought about how bad of an idea this was. The devil could show up at any moment and you would be unprepared if you kept messing around with Aki. Or even worse, Denji and the others could walk in and you’d never hear the end of it. But you found yourself justifying the action with the simple thought that you could win Aki over like this.

You and him would be a team for real this time. And he would treat you as an equal and you could work so well together. Wouldn’t that make all this worth it?

You decided that you were going to go through with it, no matter what he asked of you. But you hadn’t been expecting it honestly—what he said next.

“I’m gonna take a drag, and then feed it to you, okay?”

You froze, eyes blown wide and brows furrowing. What was this, some kind of joke? You choked, and not on the smoke this time. “Very funny,” you spat. Your defenses coming up quick, you didn’t even think twice before saying it. “I’m not doing that—”

“Don’t you wanna be my equal?”

You stammer and stutter, unsure of what to say as he takes a drag from the cigarette, closing the space between you both quickly. You put your hands up as though to push him away. But you freeze again, body stiff as he grabs you by the jaw. He tilts your chin, working his tongue into your mouth with ease.

And you find yourself clutching onto his arms, as he tugs you closer. The smoke swirling out of the spaces where your lips don’t quite meet. Your lungs burn and your eyes itch, but you don’t pull away. Whether because of your eagerness to please or because of how good his tongue feels against your own, you don’t know.

But when he pulls away, your head is hazy and it’s hard to breathe.

“Breathe,” he reminds you, his large hand placed on the space just below the base of your neck. “Come on. Breathe.”

And you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You can feel the blood rush to your head, your face heating up. Why had you done that, why had you followed him so mindlessly?

What were you thinking? What if he told someone, or if someone found out? Would you be fired? He’s your mission partner, you can’t just—

“So? Now that you’re my equal,” He says suddenly, causing you to flinch. He raises a brow before continuing without much care. “Did that ease your stress or do you need another smoke?”

#chainsaw man x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #chainsaw man imagines #aki drabble #csm x reader #csm drabble #csm x you #cw smoking #cw kissing #csm x y/n #csm headcanons #chainsaw man headcannons #aki headcanons

502 notes · View notes

ramzawrites · 4 years

Note

Just a day with MICHAEL and wine aunt y/n?

Babysitter Y/N Is On The Case

Pairings: none

Characters included: Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael, Fundy, Philza

Warnings: While this is Gender Neutral, Reader refers to themself as Aunt/ gets referred to as aunt by others

Series: a request drabble!

Summary: Y/N was asked to play babysitter for Michael so of course who would they be if they didn’t bring some toys with them or tell him some funny stories about his parents.

Words count: 3103

Authors Note: I’m sorry I wasn’t sure what kind of pronouns you wanted me to use so I stuck to Gender Neutral but Reader still gets referred to as Aunt.

I also was really excited to write it but lost steam halfway through, I apologize but it did help me get back into writing after being stuck with studying so much! So thanks for that!

Ranboo was sitting on the ground. Busy watching Michael draw with crayons on scraps of paper. He was currently making his own rendition of a family portrait and Ranboo couldn’t help but be amused with the way he drew him, Ranboo, and his best friend Tubbo.

He was tall, sure, but seeing how Michael drew clouds right next to his face was for some reason quite comical to him.

Tubbo was pacing the room up and down. His thoughts lingering on something else. Foolish was currently building their new home, a mansion to be exact, and he needed their help to map some stuff out.

At first the two wanted to bring Michael with them but Foolish brought up that a construction site might not be the safest place for a toddler. So, the two had to find a babysitter. It would be the first time they entrusted someone else with their adopted child and it made both of them nervous to say the least.

This place didn’t have the best track record when it came to important things like that and yet they still found someone who they felt like they could trust.

It was none other than Y/N.

Y/N did help the two numerous times. They were always there when trouble arose and they made their best effort to help the two through it. Both Tubbo and Ranboo felt close enough to them to even consider them family.

Ranboo mentioned this off handedly the day Y/N first met Michael and they looked shocked but also as if they were about to melt right then and there. It was this reaction that reaffirmed to them that, yes, they could trust Y/N.

A knock made Tubbo finally stop pacing and instead he practically sprinted down towards to the front door. Ranboo wanted to roll his eyes towards Tubbo’s agitated state but he felt similar. He just had more experience on how to hide it.

When Tubbo finally opened the door he was met by a smiling Y/N. They were holding a small bag in their hands as they gave Tubbo a short hug as a greeting.

“Hello, Tubbo! Babysitter Y/N is here and ready to take care of my little nephew Michael.”

A bit overwhelmed Tubbo let them in and closed the door, shutting away the cold winter air “Nephew?”

“Well you two told me that I’m somewhat like family to you, so, that would make Michael my nephew, definitely not grandson. So nephew.”

Tubbo just stared at Y/N for a short moment “I- I guess?”

Frankly he was a bit confused with how enthusiastic Y/N seemed to be about this whole situation. On one hand it was proof to him that Y/N did indeed take this somewhat serious and on the other hand this seems like it could somehow spell trouble.

Shaking off his confusion Tubbo began making his way up back into Michael’s room, closely followed by Y/N.

“Ranboo! How are you!” Y/N greeted the Enderman Hybrid as they softly put down the bag.

Michael looked up from his drawing and let out a happy squeak as soon as he noticed Y/N. He slowly got up and stumbled his way towards them and effectively hugged their leg as a greeting.

Y/N giggled as they slowly knelt down and put one hand on his head, ruffling through his bristle like hair “Hello, Sweetie. I’m happy to see you as well.”

“So, um, we need to go then. We made some extra food and put it to the side. Please don’t give Michael too much cookies or too much from the cake. He likes to-“ Ranboo begun to ramble off but Y/N interrupted him.

“Don’t worry, Ranboo. You won’t be gone for weeks. It’s only a day, probably even just a few hours. Nothing will happen to him. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Okay, but don’t let anyone else close to him, okay? Especially not Fundy. He has threatened him before!” Tubbo added.

Y/N put their hand above their heart “I hereby swear that I will protect little Michael with my life and make sure no harm will come to him while you two deal with your own business. Now, go.”

They were now physically pushing the two towards the stairs.

“You are awfully forceful today.” Ranboo noted, now worried after all that they chose Y/N as the babysitter.

Even so the two begun making their way down away from Michael’s room, all the while Y/N would continue push and poke them towards the door.

They scoffed “I’m not being forceful I’m helping you guys out. Besides, do you want to let poor Foolish waiting?”

“Alright, Alright! We are going! But should anything bad happen to Michael… Just saying, I have extra nukes.”

“Tubbo!”

But Y/N just rolled their eyes “I know. Don’t worry. Really. You guys have been good to me so I want to repay your kindness. Besides I have gotten quite attached to the little gremlin as well.”

Finally the two seemed to relax and grabbed their jackets as they walked out of the door. Y/N waved them goodbye and softly closed the door once they couldn’t see them anymore.

Now with the two parents gone Y/N made their way back to Michael, not wanting him to be alone for too long.

Back in his room Y/N found Michael staring out the window, probably watched as his parents left the home without him. Usually at least one person would stay behind so it must have been a surprise for him to see both of his parents leave at the same time.

He let out a few sad squeaks as he desperately tried to jump around, hoping he could somehow find his parents again if he just took a better look.

“Hey, it’s fine. They’ll come back and while they are gone I’m taking care of you, alright?” Y/N begun speaking, hoping he would turn his attention towards them instead the outside but he ignored them.

Y/N stepped closer, sitting down on the ground next to him while he was standing on the tip of his hooves, holding on to the corner of the windows with his hands.

Carefully Y/N stretched out a hand to Michael’s shoulder in order to gain his attention this way and it seemed to work. He let go off the window and instead twisted around to look his babysitter in the face. Both his eyes wide and glossy. Michael seemed to be close to tears.

“They will be back soon I promise, alright? In the meantime we can hang out!”

He still seemed to be close to tears and sad squeaks where still leaving his mouth so Y/N decided then and there it was time for their special weapon.

As Y/N got back up they held their hand out for Michael who slowly put his hand into theirs. Together they walked towards the brown bag Y/N brought with them.

An almost mischievous smile made it’s way on their face as Y/N opened up the bag in a way that Michael could look inside.

His expression immediately lightened up. The gloss seemed to disappear and instead he looked like he was in awe. He took his hand out of Y/N’s and moved it inside the bag only to stop and look Y/N into their eyes. Obviously asking for permission.

Ranboo and Tubbo really did a good job when it came to teaching Michael manners apparently which surprised Y/N a tiny bit. For some reason they suspected that Ranboo played a bigger role in this than Tubbo though.

Y/N nodded “Go ahead. I got them for you after all.”

Excited Michael almost dove into the bag as he got the little toys out. They were just simple wooden toys like horses, people and the like but still hard to come by around in this place. He sprayed them out on the ground only to take a closer look at the figures that seemed to represent certain people.

There were four of them. One looking like Ranboo, Tubbo, Michael and of course one looked like Y/N. They had to admit part why they did this was to bribe Michael but only a tiny bit. He was adorable and they did get kind of attached to this young Pigling as well so giving him gifts like that was only natural, right?

He grabbed all four of them and hugged them close to his chest, his gaze once again on Y/N’s face with a pleading expression.

“Yeah, they are yours! Just remember who got you them.” It felt like their heart was swelling up in their chest as they watched Michael hugging the piece that looked like them.

To Y/N’s sudden surprise Michael softly put the wooden dolls down, got up only to crash back into Y/N, hugging their body with his tiny arms. His previous sad squeaks exchanged by happy grunts.

“Alright. You want to play a bit? Read something? Or would you want me to tell you stories about your parents? Don’t get me wrong they are amazing but they are also idiots.”

Curious Michael looked back up which gave Y/N the chance to boop him on his little snout “Embarrassing stories about your parents it is then.” Which resulted in Michael to let out a sequence of grunts that mirrored a giggle.

Michael moved back away from Y/N and sat down on the ground. Grabbing the figure that represented Y/N as well as a brown horse.

“What could I tell you about... There is so much. Oh, if I tell you about that I think both Tubbo and Ranboo will kill me. Then again. You can keep a secret right?”

Without hesitation Michael nodded enthusiastically as he continued to play around with his new toys.

“Let’s start then.”

For the next hour or so Y/N begun telling stories about Ranboo and Tubbo. At first they only wanted to tell him about the little embarrassing things they did but it soon turned into a bit of a nostalgia trip for them. Briefly talking about how L’Manberg started, Tubbo’s presidency, Ranboo’s first day in the SMP and all the hijinks in between.

They made sure to let out the bad parts and mainly concentrated on the funny bits and pieces in between all the stressful situations and wars they have been through. That was something they didn’t feel like they had the right to talk about. Not without talking with Ranboo and Tubbo about it.

During all of that Michael was patiently listening though he was still rolling around on the ground playing with his new toys. Whenever Y/N thought he might not be listening anymore he let out a few squeaks urging them to keep on going.

The two new parents probably have never talked much with Michael about what they have been up to before they adopted him. To them there was a lot of pain connected to their past so instead they tried to work on their future instead. A future that involved Michael and hopefully a happier one.

For Y/N it wasn’t that different to be honest. They were right there at the beginning of it after all but when it came to the two parents they could tell Michael probably better than they themselves about the funny little bits in their past.

The time went on and at some point Y/N stopped telling stories and instead joined Michael in him playing with his new toys. He was also very adamant about the fact that Y/N used the Y/N-Doll while they played out scenarios like fighting off zombies.

It has already been after mid-day when Y/N came over to babysit so it didn’t take long for the sun to slowly set, soon the world turned dark.

When Tubbo and Ranboo first talked with them about Y/N babysitting they also made sure to tell them that once the sun is down it’s bed time for Michael which was a rule Y/N tried to follow at first.

“It’s bed time Michael. You can play later with the dolls but this is one of the rules your parents set up for me.”

He just put his arms in front of his chest and huffed out an annoyed grunt, still holding on to the toys.

Y/N smirked “Man, you sure are lucky that cool auntie Y/N is here. Let’s move bed time another hour or two but if your parents come home soon you have to get in bed asap?”

Once again Michael was enthusiastically nodding.

When Tubbo and Ranboo did finally came home again they heard a ton of noise coming from upstairs as the door fell shut. They were tired from the visit to the mansion since it took longer than expected. Foolish took the chance with them there to properly map out all the rooms. And with properly map out it really meant thoroughly.

He was so happy to see them since apparently having to build all this while having to guess how to build the rooms was a stressful endeavor. So, as much as they missed Michael and worried for him, they felt the need to stay and help out Foolish as much as possible.

He really seemed to be on the edge of losing his mind.

Though now they were curious why in the world they heard a rumbling from upstairs and Tubbo, determined as he is, climbed up the ladder as fast as he could.

Though all he saw in the room were toys strewn around, Michael in his bed with his eyes closed, clearly taking in deep breaths as if he was just running around while Y/N sat next to the bed with a book open upside down in their hand.

Ranboo was now joining the group as well, his expression showing his confusion to this situation.

“Ah, uh, hey! How was the day with Foolish? As you can see I got the kid some toys, I hope that is alright.”

“Michael?” Tubbo asked and to Y/N’s detriment his ears twitched for a moment and he clearly squinted his eyes even closer shut.

Now Tubbo turned to Y/N with his hands on both of his sides, his eyebrows turned down into a frown “Y/N!”

“We told you he had a strict bed time!” Ranboo chimed in.

Y/N set the book down and got up “Yes, you are right. I should have listened. I am sorry. He was just so happy with the toys! Anyways, I have to go now as well. Hope you guys aren’t too angry with me since babysitting him was a ton of fun. If you need my help again don’t hesitate to ask me.”

And with that they made their way out of the house. Ignoring the call outs from the two. Effectively fleeing.

While they were not thrilled that Y/N let him stay up way past his bedtime nothing really bad happened to him hence why in the end they had to admit that Y/N was a good choice for a babysitter.

So whenever the need for a babysitter arose they still asked Y/N to fill that role.

Of course whenever they appeared they would bring in more presents. Either more toys or things like books and building blocks. Over time Michael seemed to be mostly interested in the little dolls that depicted actual people from the SMP so Y/N made sure to at least bring always one little doll over whenever they visited him.

Telling him fun little stories about them and who they were. At some point this turned into their favorite little tradition with the Piglin kid.

This seemed to also be the same case for Michael judging by one little instance.

They were visiting Michael once again, this time carrying a Ghostbur-Doll with them only to meet Philza and Fundy at Tubbo’s and Ranboo’s place. They were all deep in a discussion concerning Michael which Y/N used to sneakily hand him his new toy which he happily put next to his others.

Both Philza and Fundy have visited Michael a few times already as far as Y/N knew but not as often as they themself did.

“Oh, good that you are here, Y/N. I ‘ve been wondering something.” Fundy suddenly approached them, missing the subtle gift exchange just beforehand.

Y/N raised one of their eyebrows, somehow sensing trouble from him “Hey, Fundy. Hello Philza, Tubbo, Ranboo. Sorry that I’m late? Didn’t expect to see Fundy and Phil here.”

Ranboo scratched the back of his neck nervously “Yeah, we didn’t as well. It just kind of happened.”

“I get that. Either way it’s nice to see them. What is it that you were wondering about Fundy?” Y/N turned back to the Fox Hybrid at the last part.

He had a mischievous smile on his face which didn’t seem to only worry Y/N but the other residents in the room as well “You have not been the only one visiting Michael from time to time, so we have to settle one thing. Who is the better aunt or uncle.”

“Just ask him then.” Philza threw in, sounding somehow tired of Fundy already.

This seemed to pull Michaels attention back towards the adults. Ignoring his new toy for now but still holding on to it.

Y/N didn’t want to show it but a satisfied smile appeared on their face. They had it on good authority what Michael would probably go for.

Fundy knelt down on the ground, so Y/N followed suit.

“Hey little guy. Uncle Fundy has been wondering who you like more. The super cool fox dude? Or the boring Y/N?”

Normally Y/N would have said something against it but instead they just rolled their eyes and made sure to put on a soft smile for Michael. No words were needed.

When Michael looked at bit unsure on what to do Tubbo let out a weary sigh, probably tired of Fundy’s hijinks “Go ahead Michael. Don’t worry no one will get mad it is just a question.”

“You- You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to.” Ranboo tried to further calm Michael’s worry down but before he even properly ended the sentence the kid was already on the move.

Without even hesitating he ran into Y/N arms. Y/N put their arms softly around him and ruffled through his hair “Yeah! Suck it Fundy! I’m the better one! Hah!”

“Y/N!” both Tubbo and Ranboo exclaimed angrily at the same time but Y/N just continued to snicker as Fundy got back up and begun sulking in a corner. Philza was of course busy laughing.

There was no way that Fundy even stood a chance against Y/N from the very beginning.

“This was unfair! They clearly bribed him! Look at all the toys he got from them!” Fundy exclaimed angrily.

“All is fair in love or war, Fundy.” Philza reminded him between him laughing.

1K notes · View notes

bokettochild · 3 years

Text

Violet

So y'all remember this animatic? Yeah?

I wrote a thing based off of it.

I'm not entirely sure how I fee about it, but y'all have shown how much you like my crack in the past, even if I wasn't sure about that either, so...

Here's Legend getting mistaken for a mom and pulling his brothers into a terrible impromptu acting adventure.

There are many things you do not do in Castletown.

One of those things, apparently, was taking Twilight with you, and next time he had a chance Legend was seriously considering muzzling their wolfish friend, in his shadow form or not.

He wasn’t the only one with that thought either apparently, although likely the only one who was thinking it out annoyance rather than utter and complete terror. Honestly, Twi needed to cut that protective streak of his in half, or he was going to be regretting it even more than he was going to regret this!

They’d all met thieves before, on the road, in villages, even here in Castle Town, and unfortunately Warriors’ central city was particularly full of them. The captain had explained it ages ago, something about the war displacing people and stirring up unrest with the refugees. It wasn't uncommon that someone got tired of relying on the crown for help, which, the captain had admitted sorrowfully, was rather slow in coming, despite all of Artemis’s efforts, to provide any sort of relief to the starving and displaced victims of the war. Legend had winced at that. Poor blokes, it had been similar in his own Hyrule when those trapped in the dark world emerged again, and even back in their Hylian forms, many of them had struggled to readjust to a world that had moved on in their absence.

It was little wonder than that those in the captain’s time faced the same struggle, especially after a bloody time war, but even so, it bothered him to no end that their group specifically had been the one that the idiot of a man chose to target. Honestly! They were all carrying swords for pities sakes! How did the sod even think he was going to catch a bunch of warriors unawares to steal from them?

Maybe it was because they were split.

It only made sense, after being dropped in the captain’s time, that they restock supplies. Both for practicality and to avoid suspicion, they’d divided the group into two to better run their errands, Time taking those less accustomed to bustling cities with him to gather food and potions, and Warriors leading the rest of them, those who could stand crowds at least a little bit better, to visit the blacksmith, fletcher, and tailor shops.

True to form, the captain strutted ahead with his scarf waving behind him, Wind tagging along beside him and chattering excitedly about something or other at the soldier. He and Four, however, had chosen to trail after, not for any particular reason other than both being extremely tired and maybe just a bit emotional.

In his own case, he hadn’t slept in a good sixty-three hours or so, and combining that with the stress of wandering around in an unknown place, he was a little more sensitive than usual and a bit put out as a result. Similarly, Four was fighting off his usual headache from their sudden switch, and ever since they’d pulled themselves out of the alleyway Hylia dumped them in, the shortest hero had worn his hood pulled over his eyes, mumbling softly under his breath in a way that was, unfortunately, unnerving Legend further and making him want, very much, to beg the other to stop.

That wasn’t an option of course, so he did something he hated almost as much as the saunter Warriors was using to get down the road.

He made small talk.

It helped, surprisingly, and while the four of them had run their errands, he chattered amiably with the smithy, who’d been willing to talk as long as he didn’t have to think too much on things. Legend could agree with that, and the two had spent the last half hour discussing if Four’s tunic really was red, green, blue and violet, as the smithy claimed, or red, green, blue and purple as Legend thought it was.

“It’s violet.” Four huffed, pushing the last bundle of arrows into his pack as they departed from the smithy’s shop and made their way back to the fountain at the center of town, where they'd agreed to meet with Time and the others.

“But it’s not!” He insisted, shifting the bundle of fabric in his arms and meeting the smithy’s gaze. “Violet is softer, duskier, a bit closer to grey or blue. That’s purple, plain as day!”

Warriors and Wind, for once, didn’t say anything, only exchanging grins every so often that the other two ignored.

Talking with Four was surprisingly pleasant, and ridiculously easy in comparison to talking with the others. For one thing, neither had to look too very far up or down to see the other, and as they’d found since their first dinner at the ranch, it was easy to say a lot with just a look. Subtle communication also went a long way further with the smithy than with anyone else, and it was a relief not to have to explain everything for once. Additionally, Four also liked reading, and unlike with most of their other brothers, they could actually have intelligent conversations with each other.

Not that that’s what they were doing when they’d trailed after the other two towards the fountain, but when they heard the snarl and resulting scream, the look the two heroes shared had carried as many words as a full two-hour lecture, while all at once conveying a single thought.

Oh boy, what did Twilight do this time?

What Twilight had done, he found out later, was spring a thief who had attempted to snatch the Sheikah Slate from Wild, who’d been a bit busy trying to calm his anxiety to really notice that one of the humans pressing close all around him was actually trying to steal it. That, naturally, was all well and good. The problem was the way Twilight had chosen to handle it and Legend swore there were days that Twilight forgot what form he was in; rather than pushing the thief away or grabbing ahold of them and confronting them, the gracious rancher had chosen to fling his entire body weight at the man and bite his arm.

Of course, that was only what Legend found out later, what he saw when the four of them managed to peek through the crowd, was Twilight standing there in full sight of the entire market with blood on his teeth and a man screaming in pain and terror at his feet.

Bravo, Rancher, bravo.

“Oof.” Wind winced. “That’s not good.”

“Shit.” Warriors swore, glancing around nervously and ripping his scarf off to hide in his pack.

Realization sprung on the vet like Twilight had the poor thief; Warriors was the hero here. If anyone noticed him, or any of the knightlier looking ones, they’d probably try and have them arrest Twilight. That was all well and good of course, as it would make a reasonable excuse to haul the rancher out of the way, but they’d be expected to call for help from some soldiers, and while they’d been planning on meeting with the queen while they were here, having Twilight presented to her as a feral, potentially insane, and definitely dangerous criminal was not the approach they were aiming for.

They needed a distraction, fast.

So, like the reasonable and totally mentally secure Hylian that he was, Legend shouted the first thing that came to his mind. “Violet!”

His three companions stared at him, and had he been capable, he would have stared at himself, but a desperate glance Fours way had the other drawing back, nodding slowly as Legend shouted again. “Violet? Honey?”

Warriors looked at him like he’d lost his head, gripping Wind’s shoulder firmly as if worried he’d have to pull the kid back from the apparently mad veteran.

Thank Din for teaching him acting years ago, even if it was all stage performing, but he was counting on it to get him, and Twilight, out of their respective messes, even if that meant building his higher before he could escape. At any rate, he’d caught the attention of a few people with his panicked shout. Turning to the nearest Hylian that wasn’t one of his group, he gently tapped the woman’s shoulder, letting his panic and everything in general spill over into his face and voice as the woman met his gaze with a startled look.

“Ma’am, I’m looking for-” Oh Four was going to hate this. “-My child, Violet. Have you seen a blonde Hylian child, so tall?” He lowered his hand to approximately where Four’s head would reach. “I’ve been looking everywhere!” He forced a fake sob into his voice, glancing from the woman to the surrounding crowd, and Warriors and Wind in its midst.

Wind was stifling a laugh behind his hand while Warriors stared in utter shock.

“Oh my,” The woman touched her cheek, clucking lightly and patting Legend’s hand in a consoling manner. “You poor dear! I haven’t seen a thing but just give me one moment.” The burly housewife turned, still patting Legend’s hand gently as she murmured something to the women behind her, before turning back to Legend with a sorry expression. “None of my friends have seen your little one, dear. But-” The woman turned and, with all the force and volume of a cow, hollered at the top of her lungs to the crowd as a whole. “Hello? Yes, this woman is looking for her daughter!”

Woman?!?!?!

“Her name is Violet! She’s-” The woman blinked, looking to Legend with a worried look as several other market goers turned to stare, many of them women with looks of pity and understanding that was making him wish he’d stayed silent. Fortunately, his ruse had startled them out of staring at the sight of a mauled thief as worry for a poor young mother and her lost daughter took its place. “She’s how old?”

Legend fought the protest of female pronouns, both on Four’s part and his own, but only in his head. Outwardly however, he covered his face with the hand not being smashed by the farm-wife's own. “She’s four.” Shoot him, he was saying whatever came to mind because he was panicked, alright?

A snort could be heard behind him, earning disapproving looks from the crowd that soon shifted to pity as Wind too joined the act, turning his snort into pitiful sniffling as he clung to Warriors’ hand, looking for all the world like a child who’d been to the market too long and wanted to go home, but was also panicking at the loss of their sibling. “Have you all seen my sister?” The sailor blubbered softly, actual tears spilling down his face as he pouted, expression making his act so believable that no one even questioned his height. As if to make the act more convincing, Warriors wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulder, his own face stiffening into something that could either be gas or worry, Legend was a bit on the fence.

“What’s going on here?” Legend wished that was Time stalking towards them in full armor, but it wasn’t, it was a Hylian Soldier, staring at the crowd with a grim frown on his face as he turned to Legend, standing in its center.

Oh well, those who crack under a tough audience get tomatoes to the face; he just hoped Wars would keep playing along. “My daughter,” He sobbed into his hand, pulling the other free from the housewife to properly cover his face. “She- My baby- I can’t find her anywhere, Sir!” Later, Warriors would begrudgingly admit that the look Legend shot the soldier was enough to break any heart as the vet stepped forwards, grabbing hold of the man’s arm with all the desperation of a worried mother. “Please tell me, have you seen a little girl? She’s in her favorite dress, the colors of the goddesses, red, green and blue?” He motioned down at his own tunic, skirt, whatever one would call it. “There’s a violet corner too, I made it for her myself- oh my poor baby! I can’t seem to find her anywhere!”

The grizzled soldier quickly melted under the power of tearful violet eyes, and he too gently patted Legend’s hands as if he thought it would do any good. “I’ll have my men look for her right away, ma’am. How old would you say she is?

“She’s four.” He reaffirmed. Might as well stick to his original story.

“So tall?” The farm-wife motioned, hands lowering a bit more than Legend’s had, but the woman was trying to help, so he couldn’t really be upset with her for getting it wrong. At this point though, he was a bit worried about where Four actually was, because he’d expected the shorter hero to make an appearance sooner rather than later so the act could end.

“Right.” The man nodded, pulling himself loose as Legend brought his hands to clasp in front of his chest in an imitation of the maids he’d seen worrying about the halls when Fable went missing. “We’ll do everything in our power to find your little one, madame, you have my word.” The soldier bowed, kissing the back of the vet’s hand graciously before moving back into the crowd and snapping orders at the soldiers stationed around the market.

People buzzed by, spreading the word of ‘little Violet’s’ disappearance as Warriors and Wind pushed forwards to where Legend stood.

“Really, vet?” Warriors murmured lowly.

“I panicked.” He admitted softly, as to avoid anyone noticing as he wrung his hands. “But seriously, where is ‘’Violet’? I thought he’d have appeared before it became a big thing.”

The captain frowned, settling a hand on his shoulder carefully and standing on his toes to look over the crowd as Wind giggled at the scowling veteran. The minute he shot a look down at the sailor though, the kid had picked up his role as smoothly as if he’d never dropped it. “I’m worried, mom.” Wind blinked past fake tears, and had he not needed to remain in character, Legend would have scowled and flicked the kid’s nose for the tease.

“I am too, honey.” He sighed instead, ruffling the sailor’s curls and looking over to where the others had been. Time and the others had disappeared into the crowd again, likely trying to keep a low profile and laughing their asses off at Legend’s expense while Time and Sky scolded Twilight.

“Mama?” A small voice called out, and the crowd, and he meant the whole crowd, the whole freaking crowd of several hundred people, froze as a small face peeked out from an alleyway, the smithy’s hand coming up to rub at his shimmering purple eyes with a sniff. “Mama?”

“Violet!” All three heroes surged forwards, Legend sinking to his knees and wrapping Four in a hug, taking the opportunity when his face was hidden from the crowd to scowl. “About time you showed up.” Aloud for the crowd however, he let sobs pitch his voice hysterically. “Oh honey, you can’t run off on mama like that! I was worried sick!”

And as if to put the icing on the cake of shame, one of the men in the crowd smiled softly, patting Warriors’ back with a friendly smile. “Your wife is quite the caring mother, isn’t she? Ah, you’re a lucky man, Mr.”

Legend forced himself to not blow their cover, no matter how little they now needed it with the others safely out of sight. Breaking character meant causing drama that they didn’t need. ‘Violet’ had been found, the cute little family would depart, people would calm. But if the worried mother turned out to be a screaming teenage boy and the lost daughter to be a smithy apprentice with a height problem, people would likely riot. So instead of turning around and giving the man a piece of his mind, he pushed forwards, hefting Four in his arms (the smithy sank into him with a sigh that couldn’t have been faked) letting the smaller hero nestle against him, hood hiding the smithy’s face from view as he pulled them both up, adjusting his arms so as to not drop the other.

Man, he was glad he’d put on power bracelets today.

“She is indeed.” Warriors forced out, a strained smile on his face as he settled his hand on Legend’s waist, stiff, cold and incredibly awkward. “We’d probably better head off, dear.” If the captain smiled any harder, he’d break his teeth. “Or the inns will all be full.”

It should have ended there, it should have. Legend was so ready for it to end (although Four was warm and a calming presence as the smithy began to doze against his chest), but because fate loved to mess with him, it didn’t.

“You’re looking for a place to stay the night?” The Man-Who-Needed-To-Be-Kicked cocked a brow. “I run an inn here, just across the square. I’m sure we can find a lovely little family like yourselves a place to rest, you and our wife must be exhausted after such worry!”

Warriors, sages curse and bless him, nodded along stiffly, gently pulling him along by is waist after the Blasted-Innkeeper-Who-Would-Be-Kicked as the man chattered about family discounts and free dinner. Legend’s shoulders only lowered when a free trip to the bath house was also thrown in ‘complimentarily’.

He regretted it when someone pointed him to the ladies’ side of the bath-house (think heavens it was empty that early), and he was about ready to strangle something or someone when the others joined them inside, stuck with a regularly priced room, and the smithy and vet both were bombarded with teases as Warriors sat looking utterly and completely disgusted.

“They thought we were married....”

Legend groaned, flopping over on the other side of the bed with a grimace. “Gross, right?”

“Yeah.”

"We’re forgetting this ever happened, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Regardless, no one ever let them forget it happened.

Legend was buying Twilight a muzzle, and he was pretty sure Wars would be willing to help.

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