#he was so miserable and angsty last couple of years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oneawkwardwriter · 9 months ago

Note

Hi i love ur writing. Sorry this is long but could you do a Caspian x pevensie!reader whose susan’s twin and like he chose her over susan and like they meet in prince caspian and fall in love and he “proposes” but then she can’t come back to narnia.

BUT THEN… she goes back with E Lucy and Eustace(whose kinda her enemy in a funny way) for some reason and she’s with Caspian and it’s just them on the Dawn Treader and Lucy tells caspian how sad she’s been the year they were back.

Can it just be really angsty and fluffy at the same time🤭🤭

Sorry this is long i just love ur writing💋💋

Prove Her Wrong

pairing: Dawn Treader!King Caspian x Pevensie!fem!reader warnings: angst obviously, dw it's also fluffy, mentions of drowning (no one actually does, but it feels like it for a moment), amicable banter, pining, regretting decisions, use of y/n (I'm so sorry) summary: both you and caspian have been miserable a/n: aahh, I love this idea so much! Also, thank you for giving me an excuse to watch the movies again, really needed that. I did kind of twist the plot to make it fit better, but I hope you like it nonetheless. Sorry it took this long to write it, my schedule's been packed for the last couple of weeks, I hope the fic makes up for it. wc: 2.6k

It had all happened too fast to comprehend. One second, you're standing in your cousin's room looking at a painting. The next, you're engulfed in a massive ocean trying to keep your head above the surface.

Too busy looking for the younger children, you hadn't even noticed the change in the atmosphere. Everything had gotten a little brighter, the air more fresh, the sky more clear. But you were preoccupied trying to make it out alive as the currents tried to pull you below the surface.

"Lucy!? Edmund!?" You yell out with what little breath you had left. "Eustace!? Anyone, where are you!?"

Somewhere to your right (or left, seeing as you had no sense of direction anymore), you heard a faint voice you recognised as your younger sister calling out for you.

"Lucy!" You manage to get out as you try to swim towards her. As you come closer, you were able to make out the two boys as well.

"What happened, where are we?" Eustace calls out, arms flailing around him as he tries to keep his head above water.

You share a fleeting look with your younger brother and sister, and something in your gut tells you you know exactly where you are.

"We're back, aren't we?" Edmund asks, confirming your suspiscion. But before you can answer his question, a ship dooms up, and it was approaching you rapidly.

"Swim!" You shouted, trying to put a safe distance between you and the ship while also trying to keep the others closeby.

You heard a few loud plunges into the water, and when you turned around for a moment, you saw some of the crewmembers swimming towards you. A moment later, you felt a pair of strong hands wrap around your waist.

"It's alright, I've got you." An all too familiar voice reassures you. You turned around, only to be met with a slightly older version of the man you had been forced to leave behind the last time you had left Narnia.

"Caspian..." You say breathlessly as you look into his eyes.

"Y/n..." He responds, equally out of breathe and clearly both surprised and confused to see you here.

Together with the other crewmates, he helps you onto the ship, even Eustace who is screaming fire and demanding to back to England. Someone hands you a warm blanket, which you gladly accept and drape around your shoulders. You glance at Caspian, and for a moment your gazes lock, before he is pulled away by Edmund.

"Did you call for us?" He asks, to which Caspian shakes his head.

"No, I didn't. Not this time, at least," Caspian answers, glancing over to you once more as he does.

You're interrupted by a shrieking Eustace, who is swatting away a large mouse sitting on his chest.

"Get this filthy animal off of me!" He screeches as he scrambles backwards.

"Pretty sure that mouse is far cleaner than you are, Eustace," You say as you roll your eyes and shake your head. "It's good to see you again, Reepicheep."

"It is a delight to see you as well, Your Majesties," He responds, bowing down for a moment.

Caspian walks up to the stairs that lead to the quarterdeck and addresses the crew. "Men, behold our castaways: Edmund the Just, Lucy the Valient and Y/n the Righteous; High King and Queens of Narnia."

All the men on the ship went down on their knees and bowed deeply in respect of you. No matter how many times you had been called Queen, it always sent shivers down your spine.

Caspian led the three of you towards the King's quarters, which doubled as his study, leaving Eustace in the care of the crew, who had fainted when he had seen Tavros the minotaur. You had been given some dry clothes that fit you like a glove, although your shirt was a little big and had a vaguely familiar scent to it.

In the middle of the room, a huge map of Narnia was sprawled out across the table. You scanned over it, your finger absently tracing the coastal lines as you lightly smiled to yourself. You wouldn't admit it out loud, but you had missed being here when you were back in England.

With Peter and Susan off to America, you been left to stay at your aunt and uncle's house with your younger siblings. At first, you had thought it wildly unfair to be stuck in England whilst your older brother and twin-sister got to live with your parents across the Atlantic ocean.

Eventually, you had calmed down and accepted your fate. Most of the time, you could be found lightly fidgeting with the one possession you had been able to take back with you from your last adventure in Narnia; a simple silver ring you kept on a piece of string around your neck. It reminded you of a time where you didn't feel like the second option, a feeling that haunted you often when being compared to your twin.

"It has been three years since we won Narnia back from my uncle," Caspian explains as he points towards the map, "There is peace in the entire country now."

"And have you found yourself a Queen in those three years?" Lucy asks, making you look up from the map. She truly didn't mean any harm with the question, but Edmund lightly nudges her side and gives her a stern look.

"No," Caspian says with a light chuckle to alleviate the tension, "not one to compare with your sister..."

"Hang on," Edmund interrupts, "But if there's no wars to fight, and no one's in trouble... then why are we here?"

"That's a good question. I've been asking myself the same thing," Caspian answers. "Before I tried to take the throne back from my uncle, he went after my father's closest advisors, the seven Lords of Telmar. They fled to the Lone Islands, but no one has heard from them since."

"So you think something's happened to them?"

"Well, if it has, it's my duty to find out," Caspian says rather solemnly. He looks over at you, trying to get a read on you, but your eyes are glued to the map in front of you.

"What's east of the Lone Islands?" Lucy asks, pointing towards the map where it just says The Great Eastern Ocean.

"Unchartered waters," Drinian, the captain, answers. "Things you could barely imagine. Tales of sea serpents and worse..."

"Sea serpents?" Edmund asks, his face lighting up at the sound of something dangerous to battle against.

"Alright, Captain, that's enough of your tall tales," Caspian interrupts. "You are free to go wherever you want on this ship, it is as much yours as it is mine."

It's a silent cue for Edmund and Lucy to go with the captain and explore the ship, while you stay in the quarters, leaning against the table, your eyes still locked on the parchment. After the door shuts, Caspian speaks up once again.

"Can you at least look at me?" He asks, his voice much softer and hesitant now. "Please?"

You lightly sigh as you look up at him, your eyes instantly finding his. "I'm sorry I left," You say truthfully, even though you sound rather defeated.

"Don't apologise, I- I shouldn't have asked you to stay." This time, it's Caspian who lets his head fall and gaze upon the map. "I knew you couldn't, yet I asked you anyway. I am sorry, for putting you in that position, that was selfish."

"It's alright," You somewhat reassure him, "Aslan knows I would have been just as selfish had roles been reversed. But we can't change the past, and we mustn't let it stand in the way of our future." You take a deep breath as you take a step closer to him. "You deserve a bright future filled with happiness, Caspian. Don't let me stand in the way of that by holding onto something that can't be."

It's the right thing to say, the logical thing to say. You're from a different world, there's no way of knowing if you'll be able to stay in this one after the adventure is over. It guts you to the core to walk out of the King's quarters, it tears your heart apart, but you try to shake it off as you go out onto the main deck.

Luckily for you, you're able to take your mind off of it when you notice your cousin Eustace talking to a regular seagull.

"What on Earth are you doing talking to a bird?" You say, a somewhat smug tone laced in your voice. You're called the Righteous, not the Humble, and for good reason.

"I just assumed that-" Eustace begins, his face turning a light shade of pink.

"That just because a mouse can talk, so must a bird?" Maybe it's a coping mechanism for the shattered heart in your chest, but you let out a light chuckle. "Oh cousin, you have a lot to learn about how things work here. Good to know you can't claim to be the smartest person in every realm." You shake your head and hear a few crewmen chuckle along.

The sky gets darker as the evening falls, and the crew celebrates the your arrival with festive spirits. Sea shanties are sung, dancing goes hand in hand with a lot of laughter and a couple of bottles of liquor are brought out.

Despite the gloomy thoughts that have been haunting you for the day (and the days before that), you laugh and leap along with the crewmen. Even Eustace loosens up a little, although keeping it modest. The only one who seems unaffected by the joyious celebrations is the king, who sits on the staircase and watches the others, or rather, watches you.

At some point, he is joined by Lucy, who due to her young age can't participate in the drinking and adult activities. She sits down next to him and keeps quiet for a little while, before speaking up.

"What's bothering you, Caspian?" She asks softly. "Is it the Lords?"

"For the first time in a long time, it actually isn't, my friend," He says truthfully, letting out a sigh. "It feels like even when she is this close, she is still worlds away."

He didn't have to say your name in order for Lucy to understand. It's the same way you didn't need to mention his whenever she would find you staring mindlessly at the wall or out the window back in England. You would always have that same tragic look in your eyes while you fidgeted with the ring around your neck, no matter how hard you would try to mask it whenever Lucy got your attention.

"You know, she feels the same way right now," Lucy responds, feeling incredibly sorry for both your misery.

"She's evidently better at coping with it than I am." The words came out more bitter than intended, but Lucy couldn't really blame him.

"Out here, maybe. But back in England," She refrained from saying 'back at home', never having been able to call it home when she had missed Narnia too much. "Back in England, she was a mess. A beautiful, poised and collected mess, but crumbling down on the inside."

Caspian didn't speak up, but simply looked sorry and felt even more remorseful than he already had.

"She kept the ring, you know," Lucy continues, "Oh, she would never say it out loud, but it was obvious she regretted leaving Narnia, leaving you most of all. I'm pretty sure she would give anything to stay this time around, if you'd ask her again."

"She told me to let go of a future with her, said she didn't want to stand in the way of my happiness," Caspian argues solemnly, "Sounded a lot like she wanted to move on from all of this."

"That's what she thinks is the right thing to do, because it makes more sense," Lucy counters. "Prove to her that it isn't."

With that, she stands up from the stairs and walks out into the crowd. Turning around one last time, she says:

"Oh, and maybe do something about the beard, it might remind her of the man she fell in love with."

Caspian lightly rolls his eyes at her comment, but decides to take her up on it nonetheless when he retired to the barracks below deck. For the sake of privacy, he had given his quarters to you and Lucy to stay in while you were on the ship.

Later that night, when everyone was passed out in their beds, Caspian went onto the deck to get some fresh air, where he soon notices you, leaning on the railing while you looked up at the stars.

"Still having trouble sleeping?" He asks as he stands next to you.

"Insomnia doesn't go away so easily, it seems," You softly chuckle, having to do a double take when you notice he has shaved. "I was almost getting used to that beard, but I'm glad you shaved it off any way."

"What is it with the hostility against my facial hair?" Caspian comments as he raises an eyebrow at you. "I thought it made me look ruggedly handsome."

"Who'd you have to look ruggedly handsome for before we showed up today?" You ask in a mocking way, making you lightly snicker when Caspian takes on a defensive tone. "Oh, stop it, I was merely teasing."

"Teasing, are you now?" He asks, a mischievous glint sparking up in his eyes as he leans in just a little. "That's not very Queen-like behaviour, now is it?"

You lightly sigh, letting your head fall for a moment before you speak up. "Perhaps I've gotten a bit rusty," You note, "I haven't been a Queen for a while now, you know?"

"Oh, don't worry, it's like riding a horse," Caspian assures you, "It's not something you can unlearn, even if you don't practice anymore."

"Well, maybe it's a good thing. Might make the next time I leave more easy..."

"You're still planning on leaving after this adventure?" Caspian asks, his voice growing a little more quiet. "You can stay, you do know that, right? You did the first time, surely you can-"

"Caspian, please," You interrupt him, pushing away from the railing and taking a few steps back, "It's too difficult, you know that. I can't just leave my family behind, and I can't ask them to stay."

"You don't have to do that. I am certain there's a way for you to move freely between realms," Caspian suggests, "And if there isn't, we'll find a way. Somehow, things like this have a way of working out."

He takes a step towards you, reaching out but refraining from touching you just yet. "Besides," He continues, "Time goes by much slower there than it does here right? We can figure this out and they won't even notice you're not there."

He searches for your eyes as he takes another step towards you, a silent longing in his eyes as he does. "You don't have to come with an answer right now. Whether it's tomorrow, next week or at the very last second, I don't care as long as you're certain that whatever you choose is something you actually want, not what you think is right."

You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath. "Okay," You say after a while. Your eyes are still closed, but a small creeps up on your lips.

"Okay?" Caspian echoes, his eyes sparking up, even though he's not sure he heard you correctly.

"Yeah," You say, opening your eyes to look into his. "Okay, I'll stay. But I might change my mind if you don't come here and kiss me, because-"

Luckily, he cuts you off mid-sentence by pulling you in and effectively using his lips to shut you up. You can feel him smile against your lips, and you can't help but reciprocate the gesture while your hands run up into his hair.

Taglist: @unofficialxmarvelfreak

(to join the taglist, simply leave a comment or message me!)

#writeblr #x reader fics #divider by saradika #oneawkwardwriter fics #come back be here #prince caspian x reader #prince caspian fic #king caspian x reader #king caspian fic #the chronicles of narnia

247 notes · View notes

poomphuripan · 4 months ago

Note

Hey! Have you watched 'Your Name Engraved Herein' ? I did it last weekend, and I'm still feeling very miserable. Do you have recommendations for shows/movies that offer the same visceral kind of pain? I'm a sucker for angst so I really wanna see if anything can surpass what this movie did to me lol. ^_^

hi nonnie (❁´◡`❁)

Your Name Engraved Herein is literally an iconic queer film, who HASN'T seen it (┬┬﹏┬┬) It stills leave me reeling after so many weeks after watching it.

But I grew up watching sad angsty LGBTQIA+ films so I've grown accustomed to this specific genre of sad LGBTQIA+ films i wanna bawl my eyes out after watching. so here's a few recommendations you've probably seen already, but i'm just here to give you a nudge to watch them in case you haven't seen (though it's my personal recommendation to take a break or watch happy things in between these films or else after the first few films, you're just numb to the pain and misery, and won't be able to maximize emotional connectability with the characters).

1. Happy Together (1997) dir. Wong Kar Wai

Synopsis: Ho Po Wing and Lai Yiu Fai, a couple from pre-handover Hong Kong, visit Argentina hoping to renew their ailing relationship. The two have a pattern of abuse, followed by break-ups and reconciliations. One of their goals in Argentina is to visit the Iguazu waterfalls, which serves as a leitmotif in the movie.

my thoughts: i didn't know what the hype was with wong kar wai until i watched this film. 100/10 cinematography and it breaks me every time.

2. Brokeback Mountain (2005) dir. Ang Lee

Synopsis: Two modern-day cowboys meet on a shepherding job in the summer of ’63, the two share a raw and powerful summer together that turns into a lifelong relationship conflicting with the lives they are supposed to live.

my thoughts: not the best of its genre but i cried a lot watching it the first time so i'm giving it a little space here in this list. Ang Lee has delivered a lot more LGBTQIA+ films

3. Lan Yu (2001) dir. Stanley Kwan

Synopsis: Set in Beijing in the late 1980s and early 1990s, the film makes vivid reference to the Tiananmen Square massacre. Lan Yu, an architecture student in desperate need of money, finds himself in the bed of successful businessman Chen Han Dong. While Lan Yu falls in love, Chen tries his best to avoid emotional attachment, showering Lan Yu with expensive gifts and even getting married. However, as the years go by, Chen soon realizes that he cannot live without Lan Yu.

my thoughts: god i want to quote this entire film as i was watching it. THE ANGST. THE PAIN. it's been recently restored in 4k so i rewatched it a while back, god the pain is still visceral.

4. Farewell My Concubine (1993) dir. Chen Kaige

Synopsis: Abandoned by his prostitute mother in 1920, Douzi was raised by a theater troupe. There he meets Shitou and over the following years the two develop an act entitled “Farewell My Concubine” that brings them fame and fortune. When Shitou marries Juxian, Douzi becomes jealous, the beginnings of the acting duo’s explosive breakup and tragic fall take root.

my thoughts: pain. pain. pain. pain. pain. ABSOLUTE PAIN. but also i adore poetic and tragic films so this was THAT masterpiece for me.

5. Maurice (1987) dir. James Ivory

Synopsis: After his lover rejects him, Maurice, a young man in early 20th-century England, trapped by the oppressiveness of Edwardian society, tries to come to terms with and accept his sexuality.

my thoughts: hugh grant is gay af and i'm always here for it. i never fully bought him being charming male lead in all those het romcoms he got

happy watching! \(￣︶￣*\))

#claire replies #your name engraved herein #happy together #brokeback mountain #lan yu #farewell my concubine #maurice

27 notes · View notes

dokifluffs · 11 months ago

Text

Burnout | Sugawara Koushi

Pairing: Suga X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: angsty fluff, college!AU

"x-whyareyoureadingthis-x asked: Mini Request for college!Sugawara: sitting at your desk at home, studying, and just having a small breakdown, like there's so much work and mid-terms are in full swing and you don't know how to keep up and all that. And Suga just comes from the side, gently taking your head and pulling it against his chest, letting you cry a little. I'm sorry, but this scenario has been stuck in my head for a month now. If you don't feel like writing it don't worry. But I had to tell someone about this 😅"

Author's Note: i took this mini request and made it into a full one so :) I can't resist making this but I know it'll end up too long as a "crumb" anyways T^T but more for you all to be fed hehe also I relate to this feeling so much oof

college

it was the next few years of your life that you always heard would be the "best ones ever" yet here you were

your first ever fall semester and you were miserable

The courses you signed up for were ones you were genuinely interested in based off of what you heard and read about the professor

but now sitting through them, with all their workloads piling up toward the climax of the semester

you sat under your kotatsu and wondered

why were you putting yourself through this?

Were you the only one feeling like this?

Everyone you saw when you looked around anywhere on campus looked like they were handling it well and they were just meeting the expectations of what it meant to be a college student

to become an adult

and here you sat

staring off past your no longer lit computer screen as the leaves fell from your childhood home's backyard

a cool breeze blowing in, through your hair and caressing your cheek but your legs stayed warm under the kotatsu

so why was it just you who couldn't handle it?

you snapped out of your daze, glancing around at all your sprawled-out notes

all the reminders you set around your room of the work you needed to do by when

the reticulate time schedule you created would put you as ahead as you could in terms of work with just maybe a bit of free

only if you were lucky or if your professors had mercy on you and canceled some readings or discussions

your chest felt heavy

your body felt heavy just sitting there on the familiar matted floor of your living room

it was all just so much

everything was just so much

all the material you had to retain

the assignments

the readings

the papers you had to type

and now that things were different from high school

now that things were much more real than in high school, everything was longer

the research you had to do

the articles you had to read

the textbooks you had to read

the prices of everything - tuition, fees, it was all so much

as another cold breeze blew by, your cheek felt even colder

you felt a wet drop on the back of your hand

when did you start crying?

Everything was so manageable in high school

when did high school graduation feel so far away when it was only before this past summer, just a couple of months ago?

when did everything start to feel so heavy?

you took a deep breath, trying not to blink or else you knew your tears would fall

but the tears were blurring your vision

until you saw one sticky note you made weeks ago

it was the schedule of your midterms, three of which were on one day and then the last two were on separate days

you made a list of all the material you had to review

you stared at the note, holding the dulled color little sheet in your fingertips, staring at your own handwriting

when did you start cracking?

A cold gust blew in, forcing the door to open wider

"Y/N~ I brought steamed buns.."

"Koushi.." you broke

his voice died off seeing you in your room, papers floating and being pushed all over the floor around you

you looked like a mess

the bags under your eyes were a lot more present since the last time he saw you just a week ago

the room filled with your stifled sobs as you covered your eyes with the palms of your hands

you could feel how damp they had become

but then you felt the warmth

you moved your hands, your vision blurring but you could feel Koushi

His body was pressed against yours, arms pushing your body into his

as if he was the glue and knew you were falling into pieces

as if he was welding your pieces back together

"I'm here," he spoke, squeezing you a little tighter, his voice saddened seeing you like this

he had a subtle inkling of what was happening to you, seeing the signs but whenever he asked, you would tell him it was just some fatigue a good night's rest couldn't fix

how much he wished he followed his gut

and look at you now

"let it out, Y/N," he caressed your head, brushing his fingers through your hair, holding you close ever so gently

like you were the most precious thing in the world

and to him, you were

you sobbed profusely in his arms

trying your best to tell him everything between gasps and breaths

he nodded, listening, sharing his advice with you

encouraging you

letting you know that he would always be there with you through thick and thin

"You've worked so hard, but you need to rest too," he held your hands, giving them a little squeeze as he looked deep into your eyes

Every time you did try to relax, you felt restless, guilty, like there was more you could've been doing

"you shouldn't feel guilty for taking care of yourself and your health!" he proclaimed

"Now eat a pork bun!" he scrambled, reaching for one from the bag he brought, and stuffing it into your mouth while he scooped up your papers into a neat pile

then finally scooping you into his lap as he pet your head

"we're going to rest today," he smiled at you, pressing a kiss to your temple as you took a bite

"and feed me too," he widened his mouth, waiting to take a bite of the bun

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

#dokifluffs #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #suga #sugawara #sugawara imagines #sugawara headcanons #sugawara x reader #suga koushi #suga x reader #suga imagines #suga scenarios #suga headcanons

71 notes · View notes

raplinesmoon · 1 year ago

Note

Isi! I would like to know about the girls want love couple🤭 I would have also asked about the on the ropes couple but they are endgame to me and I won't take another answer bc they are God tier🫣🥹

Athina!! Hiiii, thank you for sending one in 💞

Oooh Girls Want Love!! Well obviously we know they have their sugar daddy-sugar baby relationship, but I have hinted at the presence of underlying feelings before (mostly on Seokjin’s side). I think he likes taking care of her, and being with her in whatever way, so he doesn’t feel pressure to define the relationship. Eventually, I think a while into their arrangement, they would realize there’s mutual feelings and give dating a try! I’d put their whole relationship lasting somewhere around the 3-4 year mark, with the majority of it being silly pining! I think OC would maybe get insecure about the nature of how their relationship started and break it off (I honestly can’t see Seokjin breaking it off in my head), and maybe decide she wants to give dating someone else a try.

From there, I don’t really know! I could see it going either way - Seokjin would let her go because he wants the best for her, but in my heart of hearts, I’d like to think they give dating other people a try and realize they’re both miserable before reuniting ❤️

As for OTR, you’re so right, they’re literally endgame, for life partners and there are no alternative arguments! Their love runs so deep, no matter how many times they get insecure about it! But their little family is forever (Jin-Ae does end up being their only baby). Not to be extra angsty, but I’ve always imagined them as that couple where if one of them were to pass away first, the other couldn’t handle the heartbreak and would follow soon after 😭

Send me a pairing from one of my fics and I’ll tell you how long they lasted for 💞

#asks #ask games #firesighgirl

0 notes

kailyn-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Stranger || Tyson Jost

Word count: 5.2k

warnings: a couple of swear words, mentions of fighting, little angsty towards the end.

This is a work of fiction, timelines could be wonky, places could be incorrect. pls do not hate me for it

Over the last year, Minnesota had become your home. Minneapolis was the city you had fallen in love with hockey in, the city you’d met your best friend, Ellie, in; you couldn’t imagine living anywhere else anymore. That hadn’t always been the case, though. When you first moved to Minnesota, you were miserable. You didn’t like the snow, you didn’t know anyone, you never went out.

About six months after you’d moved, you discovered hockey. One of your coworkers, Macy, invited you to a Minnesota Wild game with her and her friends. That was the night that you met Ellie. She was sitting in the seat next to yours and the second you sat down she turned and greeted you. She saw that you didn’t have anything Minnesota on and offered for you to wear her beanie for the game. She laughed when you made a face, assuring you that it was brand new, she’d only had it on for like five minutes.

That was seven months ago. Hockey had since become a huge part of your life. You and Ellie went to at least one home game a month and pretty much any other game was watched at home or at a bar. You weren’t just a Minnesota fan, though. You were also a fan of the Colorado Avalanche. Your parents lived in Denver and you had gone back to visit them recently. Luckily, the Wild and Avs were playing in Denver that weekend and you had the chance to share your new interest with your parents.

You heard about the Jost trade almost as soon as it was announced. Ellie is a sports journalist and sent you the article that she wrote almost immediately after she published it, gushing about the curly-haired boy. You knew who he was, obviously, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited for him to join the Wild. You and Ellie cracked jokes back and forth about the trade, laughing at the ones about him being color blind the most.

That Friday, two days after Jost made his Wild debut, you head home from work early, a perk of making your own schedule. You are rounding the corner towards your apartment, glancing down at your phone to see another article from Ellie, this one not trade-related, thankfully. You glance up with barely enough time to stop yourself from crashing into the male in front of you. His eyes are also glued to his phone and he looks up, you smile.

“I am so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He says, but you shrug and wave him off.

“It’s alright, I wasn’t watching where I was going either.” You say, pausing briefly, your cheeks flush warm as you raise your brows .”You’re Tyson Jost, right?”

“I am. And you are?” He asks, a warm smile spreading on his face.

“I’m Y/n. I’m in unit 115 down the hall.” You say and he grins.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n.” He offers his hand for you to shake and you do so with a chuckle. His hand is warm against yours and you can feel your cheeks flush once more.

“What’s good to eat around here? I’m starving.” Tyson says and you chuckle.

“Depends on what you want. There’s a diner about two blocks away that I personally love. There’s a pizza place on the corner that makes the best pizza I’ve ever had.” You say, grinning. He’s about to respond when your phone rings. You check it, brows furrowed in confusion when you see your boss calling you. “I am so sorry, I have to take this. Welcome to Minnesota, Tyson. I hope it treats you well.”

The next morning you head out much earlier than you’d originally anticipated. You were meeting your friends for lunch before the Minnesota game, but you needed to pick up a couple of things before heading that way. You were already in your game day gear, a wild hoodie and beanie being your choice of gear for today.

“Y/n!” You pause after hearing your name, turning to see Tyson jogging to catch up with you. “Green looks good on you.” He smirks, tugging at the beanie on top of your head. You roll your eyes, chuckling.

“Says the boy who can’t even see the color green.” You remark and he just shrugs, smiling.

“I don’t have to see green to know it’s your color.” He responds. You just roll your eyes, continuing to walk.

“You heading to the arena already?” You ask and he nods, falling into step beside you. “Got time to grab a cup of coffee? There’s a place close that I think you’ll like.”

“Yeah, I’ve got time.” He says and you nod, smiling. The two of you chat as you walk to the cafe, though it’s not far. It’s only about a five-minute walk from your building, but somehow Tyson’s got you telling him why you moved to Minnesota before you ever arrive at the cafe. The two of you enter and you smile as the barista waves at you.

“Hey, Bri. I’ll take a hot caramel latte.” You smile as she nods and taps the order in, turning her attention to Tyson. He orders his drink and she tells you the total, grinning. Tyson reaches for his wallet, but you hold your phone over the reader, smirking when it dings.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” He says, brows furrowed at you. You shrug, moving to step out of the way for the next customer. He follows suit, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“It’s just a coffee, Tyson. I do it for all of my friends.” You say, smiling softly.

“I’ll get it next time, then.” He says and you just shrug. It really wasn’t any big deal to you, it was a pretty common thing you did for your friends.

“So, are you settling in with the team well?” You ask, smiling softly as you look over at him. You watch him earnestly, listening intently as he talks about the team and what it’s like playing in a new city. A couple of minutes later your orders are called out and the two of you step up to grab the coffees.

“You should get to the arena. I will see you later. Good luck today.” You say, tipping your coffee up to him before walking out, smiling.

Minnesota wins that day, 3-1. You and your friends get drunk at the game, something your group tended to do a bit too often. You joined them for an early dinner afterward, drinks flowing freely at the restaurant just as they had at the arena. It’s late that evening when your friends drop you off in front of your apartment building. You could’ve sworn that you were being quiet, trying not to disturb your neighbors as you slowly made your way to your apartment. You’re almost there, just four more doors and you would be safe and warm in your home.

The door to Tyson’s apartment opens just after you pass it, though you try to keep walking. It’s not until he calls your name that you turn around, eyes slightly wider than normal. You smile, trying to act like you’re not drunk off your ass.

“You okay?” Tyson asks, brows raised in concern.

“Yeah, oh yeah, yep, mmhmm.” You nod, swaying ever so slightly on your feet.

“Are you.. Are you drunk?” Tyson asks, chuckling softly.

“No, I don’ know what you’re talking ‘bout.” You slur, shaking your head. He chuckles again, rolling his eyes.

“C’mon, you need to get home and get some water.” He says, closing his door and moving to put his hand on the small of your back, leading you towards your apartment. Your keys are already in your hands and he easily plucks them out of your grip, your reaction delayed as you try to reach for them a second later. He unlocks the door for you, handing you back your keys with a smirk.

“Thanks, Tyson. I’m really glad you got traded to Minnesota.” You say, smiling softly as you reach out to squeeze his hand gently, before slipping into your apartment and locking the door behind you. He’s shocked, confused, as he stands there, staring at the metal number on your door.

The next morning, you wake to knocking on your door. Your head is pounding as you get up, groaning. You look down, thankful that you’d changed into sweats and a t-shirt last night. You don’t change, barely running a hand through your hair as you scurry over to your door, annoyed. You pull it open, ready to chew out the person on the other side, but you stop when you see Tyson standing there. He smiles, taking in your appearance.

“Get dressed. I’m taking you to get coffee.” He says and you groan, walking away from the door, towards your couch. He steps inside your apartment, shutting the door behind him. You sit on your couch, cradling your head in your hands.

“Come on. You’re hungover, you need some coffee and a greasy breakfast, so that’s what we’re going to do.” Tyson says, leaning on the arm of the couch next to you. You look up at him, confused.

“How did you know I was hungover?” You ask and he grins at you sheepishly.

“We might’ve ran into each other last night. I made sure you got home safe, just unlocked the door for you. That was it.” He explains and you groan, running a hand through your hair. “I’m starving, Y/n. Go get dressed.”

You roll your eyes as he shoves your shoulder, but you get up and go get dressed, pulling on a pair of leggings and a gray crewneck with a pair of white tennis shoes. Your hair goes from its high messy bun to a low messy bun. You pull one of your beanies over the top of your head, huffing. You brush your teeth and put on a bit of moisturizer and mascara before calling it quits and walking back out to the living room. Tyson hadn’t moved an inch but as soon as he hears you he jumps up, smiling.

“Let’s go get some food.” You say, grabbing your keys out of the ceramic bowl they stayed in. Tyson grins at you as he steps out into the hallway, letting you lock your door before falling into step beside you.

The two of you chat as you walk, Tyson telling you that he wanted to try the diner you’d mentioned. It’s not a long walk, just a couple of blocks, but it’s chilly out and your cheeks are pink when you finally arrive. You ask Tyson about Colorado as you sit and wait to order and he tells you all about it, about his best friends.

Once the two of you have ordered, he asks about your family and how you ended up in Minnesota. You give him a brief run-down, leaving out the more traumatic parts. You tell him about meeting Ellie and being friends with Macy, about your game day traditions with the girls. You also warn him that you don’t get drunk every game, this was a pretty rare occurrence for you.

It’s mostly quiet as the two of you eat, mumbles of how good the food is, a couple of questions here or there. By the end of breakfast, you’re feeling a bit more like yourself. You’ve had a cup of coffee and your stomach has settled, the food dulling the pounding in your head. You’re already finished with your meal and Tyson is just about done with his when you speak up.

“So, you said that we ran into each other last night.. I didn’t, like, come knocking on your door or anything, right?” Your voice is soft, eyes staring into your coffee cup, cheeks warm from embarrassment.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Tyson says with a chuckle before taking another bite. You breathe a sigh of relief, only to tense up when he speaks again. “Though, you did say something odd.”

Your eyes go wide and you set your coffee cup down, sighing.

“What did I say?” You ask though you’re very sure you don’t want to hear this.

“You seriously don’t remember? How much did you drink yesterday?” Tyson asks with a chuckle and you shake your head, shrugging.

“At the game, 4 beers and two shots. At dinner? Couldn’t tell ya.” You respond and he smirks at you, pushing away his now empty plate.

“Well, you were quite intoxicated when I opened my door last night, so I walked you to your door and unlocked it for you. Right before you went inside you said that you were glad I got traded to Minnesota.” He explains, a soft smile on his face as he looks over at you. You drop your head into your hands, cheeks flushing with warmth again.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is muffled by your hands and Tyson chuckles again, grabbing your hands and moving them from your face.

“What are you sorry for? I’m not exactly heartbroken that I got traded here.” He says, shrugging. You lift your head to look at him, eyes wide.

“You’re not?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“No. I’m enjoying the change of scenery.” He says and you smile, nodding.

“Well, in that case, I’m glad you’re here, Tyson.” Both of you chuckle and he nods.

“Me too, Y/n.” He says, moving to stand. “C’mon, I’m going to take care of the bill, and then I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh, let me take - “ You reach for your wallet, but he cuts you off, holding up a hand.

“I owe you for the coffee the other day, don’t worry about it.” He says, before walking towards the register. You don’t have to wait long for him to appear back at your side, smiling. The two of you head for the door and he opens it for you, gesturing for you to go first.

You and Tyson spend a lot of time together after that day. You make him dinner a couple of times; he brings you coffee from your favorite place on Saturday mornings when he’s not on the road. Your friends insist that he’s got a crush on you, but brush them off, rolling your eyes, though your heart flutters at the thought.

Tyson isn’t home when you go to sleep, still on the way back from the game they’d played earlier that day. You watched from home with a couple friends, a much more tame group than was at the last game. You drop a box off in front of Tyson’s door as you're heading to work that morning, shooting him a quick text to let him know it was from you. You get a text a while later, opening it up to see a grinning Tyson on your screen, one of the large cookies you’d made in his hands. You send him a quick response, smiling as you typed it out.

The next morning, you’re up and out of your apartment early. You’ve got plans that evening and you want to make sure that you won’t get held up at work too late. The Wild are playing that night, but you’ve got a date with a guy Macy has been trying to set you up with. The only reason you accepted this date was that she threatened to tell Tyson that you were in love with him if you didn’t.

Work goes smoothly and you get home with plenty of time to get ready. You do your hair and makeup and put together an outfit. He’d told you to dress casual that morning, so you did. You went with a pair of black jeans, a cropped tan sweater, and your converse. By the time you were finished with everything, it was just about time for you to leave. You’d told him that you would meet him at the diner, just in case you wanted to leave early.

You had just shut and locked your apartment door when you heard Tyson’s opening and closing. You rounded the corner to see him locking his door and a smile formed on your face when you saw him in his suit. He must’ve heard your footsteps because before you can even say anything, he looks up at you with a smile.

“Hey.” He says simply, eyes trailing over your body. Warmth floods your cheeks and you look down at the ground before back up at him.

“Hey, Tyson.” You say, smiling as you take a couple of steps towards him. He falls into place beside you, quiet as the two of you walk.

“Are - Are you going to the game?” Tyson asks, after clearing his throat. It sounds forced, unlike his usually easy-going demeanor.

“Uh, no, I’m going on a date.” You hesitate at first, your words slightly shaky. He looks at you, surprised.

“Oh. Uh, o-okay.” He says, nodding. You nod as well, biting your lip as the two of you step onto the elevator. The rest of the walk is silent and you wave at him before walking in the opposite direction, towards the diner.

Tyson’s POV

Ever since he’d heard those words come out of your mouth, he hadn’t been able to slow down his heart rate. He’d made his way to the arena quickly, thoughts consumed by you.

“I’m going on a date.”

The words replayed in his head over and over again, anger filling him with every passing second. God, he was such an idiot for not realizing his feelings sooner. It wasn’t until he saw you in the hallway earlier that he’d realized just how much he liked you, not as a friend. All he wanted to do when he saw you was push you up against the wall and kiss you right there.

Tyson couldn’t get his anger under control, even in the locker room. He was throwing his clothes around, huffing, glaring at guys for the same chirps they always gave him. Tonight he was not having any of it.

“Dude, what has got you so pissed off tonight?” A hand claps on his back and he turns to see Matt Dumba behind him, a concerned look on his face. Tyson takes a deep breath before spilling everything to Dumba, hands shaking as he fiddles with the jersey in his hand. He tells Dumba all about you, how kind you were to him on one of his first days here and how nice you’ve been since. And then he tells him that you’ve been at every game since he was traded, but that tonight you had a date.

“I see.” Dumba says, nodding in understanding. “Tonight isn’t going to be any different because she’s not here. You’re still going to give it your all, just like the rest of us. If we win, great. If we lose, well then we lose and it’s not anyone’s fault. Least of all hers.”

Tyson nods, his heart rate starting to slow just a bit. He still didn’t feel great about it, but he wasn’t as panicked as he had been.

The game does not go great, though. Sure, they’re leading 2-0 at the end of the first, but Tyson can not shake his anger. With every hit he takes and every missed shot on goal, he gets angrier and angrier. At the end of the second, they’re still leading 2-1 and Tyson’s blood is boiling.

Halfway through the third period, he takes an especially hard shove into the boards and he sees red. Next thing he knows, he’s dropping the gloves and pouncing on the dude. The other player is bigger than him, though, and within seconds he’s on the ice, bleeding. The refs pull the guy off of him and he skates off to get checked out, muttering curses the entire way.

He insists he’s fine, but the trainers take him down the tunnel and fix him up, stitching up the bleeding cut on his cheek before letting him get back out on the bench. The game is almost over by the time he comes back and Minnesota wins 3-1.

Tyson goes back to his apartment that evening in a sour mood. He ignores the text you sent asking how he was feeling. He doesn’t go knock on your door like he normally would, instead choosing to go take another shower and climb into his bed.

Your POV

Your date is fine. His name is David, he’s an accountant and he is so boring. The conversation feels forced, stilted, the exact opposite of what you want on a date. You decline his offer to walk you home, not wanting to deal with him trying to kiss her goodnight. Your walk home is uneventful, you walk into your apartment just two short hours after you left, immediately reaching for your remote to turn on the Wild game.

You’re about to walk out of the living room to change when you see Tyson drop his gloves and go after a player on the other team. You are frozen in place, watching Tyson get pummeled by the other player. You watch as the refs finally break the two up and Tyson skates to the bench, walking down the tunnel. You immediately grab your phone and text your friends, your hands shaking as you try to text.

Your friends try to keep you calm and you busy yourself with changing and doing your skincare routine. Thankfully, by the time you’re finished, the game is over. Tyson was back on the ice before the game ended, so he was okay. You shoot him a text, climbing into your own bed to await his response. You fall asleep with your phone still open on Tyson’s message thread, though when you wake the next morning, there is still no response. You shoot him another text right before you leave for work, huffing in annoyance as you pass his apartment door.

The Wild leave for a road trip the next morning so when you get home that night, you half expect Tyson to knock on your door asking for a movie night, much like he did a couple weeks ago. You are disappointed when the evening passes, still with no word from the curly-haired boy. You try not to let it upset you too much, try to keep your mind focused on other things. You cook dinner and bake another batch of cookies; you turn on your favorite movie and just hang out on the couch.

The next day, though, you’re slightly annoyed at Tyson. You send him another text, trying to check up on him, but he still doesn’t respond. You go about your day, grumpy and unable to focus well. You watch the Wild game at a bar that evening, though every time Tyson’s name is mentioned you roll your eyes. Your friends try to keep your mind off of it with food and drinks, participating in the games going on at the bar. It works, for the most part, and you go home exhausted that evening, your mind occupied with things other than your cute neighbor.

Another day goes by of Tyson flat out ignoring you, and you’ve decided that you’re not going to put up with it anymore. You wake up early that morning and go get Tyson a coffee from that coffee shop you guys like, leaving it by his door with a note. You knock on his door before walking back to your own to get ready for work. When you leave for work, the coffee is gone and you smile, taking a sip of your own coffee. That evening, you drop off a batch of cookies, specially made for him. You’d adapted your recipe so that it would still fit into his diet after he ate five regular cookies and had a sugar crash on your couch one day. These cookies wouldn’t give him as bad of a sugar crash if he ate them. When you checked a couple of hours later, the cookies were gone. Tyson still hadn’t texted you, but this was a start.

The next day, you don’t do anything special for Tyson other than text him to wish him good luck. The Wild had a home game that evening and you would be there, with your friends. You do have a surprise for him, though, you don’t tell him that. Your day seems to fly by, which you’re super thankful for, and before you know it, you’re heading to the arena. You’re wearing your favorite Wild beanie, but in place of your usual green hoodie, you’re wearing a green jersey with ‘Jost’ and the number 10 on the back. You ordered it custom since they didn’t have any online with his name yet. Your friends all ‘oooh’d’ when they saw it and you laughed, rolling your eyes at them. Your group typically wasn’t down at the ice for warmups, instead choosing to spend that time buying drinks and food. Tonight was different, though. You wanted Tyson to see the jersey, to know you were there rooting for him.

You saw Tyson long before he saw you, your mouth falling open in shock when you saw the cut on his cheek and the black eye on the other side. You’d seen them on tv when you watched a couple nights ago, but in person, they looked so much worse. You smiled, waving when his eyes locked with yours. He gave you a tight-lipped smile before skating away, leaving you feeling dejected. You turned back to your friends, most of whom had their brows raised and looks on their faces that said they were ready to murder Tyson. You brushed them off and suggested going to find your seats. They all agreed, turning to walk back up the stairs with you.

The game is great, the Wild win, and you have a great time, despite the fact that Tyson is still ignoring you. It ends tonight, though, you decide. You head back to your apartment, settling yourself into one of the plastic chairs outside near the entrance to your complex. You have to kill quite a bit of time out there and opt to read your book, eyes glancing up at every person who walks into the building. You spot Tyson well before he sees you, standing up as he walks towards the building, duffel bag on his shoulder. He pauses when he spots you, looking back at his car before at you.

“Tyson.” Your voice isn’t very loud but he meets your gaze, sighing visibly. He walks a bit closer, gripping his duffel bag tightly.

“What, Y/n?” His voice lacks the warmth he usually reserves just for you and it takes you a second to speak, your breath caught in your throat.

“Did I do something to make you mad at me?” You ask, fiddling with your fingers. Tyson’s gaze softens and he shakes his head.

“No, it wasn’t anything you did. Look, I’m tired, can we just talk about this tomorrow?” He asks and you shake your head.

“No, because you’ve been ignoring me for days. Why would you ignore me if it wasn’t anything I did?” You ask, tucking your hands into your pockets.

“It doesn’t matter. Sorry I ignored you.” He says and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“Doesn’t matter? But it mattered enough for you to ignore me for four days.” You respond, shaking your head at him.

“Maybe it does matter, but maybe I don’t want to talk about it.” He says and you furrow your brows at him.

“You don’t get to do that, Tyson. I have feelings, too, you know? I don’t deserve to be ignored for four days when all I’ve done is be kind to you.” You spit, turning away from him for just a second. He has to do a double-take at your jersey, his expression softening when he sees his name and number on the back.

“So do I! Why do you think it’s okay to string me along like this and then go on dates with other guys?” He asks, his voice slightly raised. You turn back to him, brows furrowed, mouth open in surprise.

“What are you talking about?! I didn’t string anybody along. I was trying to be your friend, Tyson. And yeah, I went on a date, but if you had responded to my texts the other night, you would know that it didn’t go well and I’m not going to see him again.” Your voice is harsher now, your tone darker than before.

“Oh.” That’s all he can say as he processes that information.

“Yeah, ‘Oh.’” You mock, crossing your arms over your chest.

“How was I supposed to know that that wasn’t your tenth date with the guy?” He asks, and you laugh harshly.

“It’s none of your business, Tyson! We’re just friends, who I date shouldn’t matter.”

“Okay, but it does! Because I don’t want to be just friends with you! God, I have been trying to show that for weeks and you just can’t get the hint! I was jealous the other night. That’s why I got into the fight, why I’ve been ignoring you! I was so fucking jealous I couldn’t stand it!” He yells, dropping his duffel bag on the ground. You’re stunned, silent for a moment. You feel a drop on your head and look up just as it starts to drizzle. You laugh, shaking your head. Tyson stares at you, shaking his head in disbelief. He grabs his duffel bag and turns away taking a couple of steps towards the door to your building.

“I didn’t think you could like me. Like that, anyway. I didn’t think I was good enough, pretty enough. That’s why I didn’t “get the hint”” You put air quotes around it, smiling softly as he turns around. “Truth be told, I wasn’t just being friendly. Sure, at first, that’s what it was. But later, I just wanted to see you smile, hear you laugh. That’s why I baked you cookies and why I was totally okay with you taking over my couch for movies.”

It’s raining now, cold and harsh on your skin. Tyson’s facing you, has been for a couple of minutes. He drops his duffel bag again, closing the gap between the two of you in three quick strides. He reaches up to gently cup your cheek, brows raised. You nod your consent and he dips his head, pressing his lips softly to yours.

There are no fireworks behind that kiss, instead, a feeling of peace consumes you. Every worry you have is squashed with that kiss. When you break apart, both you and Tyson are smiling big dorky smiles.

“C’mon, let’s get inside before we both catch a cold.” Tyson says softly, tugging gently on your jersey. You nod, reaching to take his outstretched hand and lace your fingers through his.

#tyson jost x reader #tyson jost fic #tyson jost imagine #nhl writing #nhl imagine #nhl fic

156 notes · View notes

beanswrites · 3 years ago

Text

"A Second Chance I Didn't Want" Asra x MC, from "The Arcana"

You know how I usually say that whatever I'm posting here is a cute fluffy one-shot? Yeah, this is not it. This is probably the angstiest, sourest, saddest one-shot I've written in a LONG time. But hey, this anon right here did request for it to be angsty as heck! (And I took that personally)

My readers, after reading this one-shot: Have you ever considered... Therapy?

I'm warning you now, this is really triggering and might not be for some people. I cried while writing, if it matters. Yet, you can always check out my masterlist for loads of fluff!

Requests are open! Check out my rules for requesting (pinned post) before placing your request, or pick something from my prompts list!

Also available on AO3!!!

masterlist | rules for requesting | prompts list

Word count: 1300 words

Trope: Angst, Angst with an unhappy ending

Pairing: Asra Alnazar x gn! MC

AU: none

Warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts, suicide

Picture from Pinterest!

Another day passed, feeling like it lasted years. Sure, the saying was true: "Time flies when you are having fun" But each saying has its other side. Time also feels never-ending when you are miserable.

To be fair, MC wasn't miserable, yet they weren't happy either. The apprentice was very familiar with this feeling, the feeling of numbness. Lately, it's all they've been feeling. Nothing fazed and nothing bothered, nothing managed to bring a single tear or even a laugh. Oh, but how they tried.

Portia made MC's favorite dish every day. Every time she would see them, she'd always bring them a hot plate of the delicious food they liked so much in hopes of getting them to smile, even once. Just to get them to eat one little bite.

Nadia was the one who'd always invite them over for tea, or even for a quick stroll around Vesuvia. They did reply and went a couple of times, trying not to hurt the countess' feelings. But, lately, the pile of Nadia's lavender-scented invites was only getting bigger and bigger, as it was left untouched. For several weeks.

Julian took them out to the Rowdy Raven a couple of times, buying them beer and requesting their favorite songs to play. They used to love hanging out with everyone in the pub! Memories of the time MC was snorting with laughter would always overflow Ilya's mind whenever he returned to their favorite tavern. It was clear that those times were long gone.

And Asra.. Poor Asra! He's probably gone through most for MC. The way they were suffering was unbearable for him. The magician loved his apprentice with everything he had, and he wanted to make sure that the other half of his heart beating in their chest will never have to suffer an ounce of pain again. He noticed right away that something was off. That with each day, MC was getting greyer, losing that warm, happy aura they used to have.

He went through so many sleepless nights worrying that it was him. That he had done something wrong. Maybe he wasn't good enough of a partner? Good enough of a master for MC?

Soon, he realized it was far more complicated than that. It wasn't a particular person or a thing that did this to them. It wasn't even their fault! They tried their hardest every day, and Asra appreciated that. He was always there for them, talking, kissing, and cuddling the pain away. But it was never enough.

MC first changed once their memories were retrieved. Everybody knew they weren't doing fine even before that, but the change in their behavior was a lot more visible after that. They became quieter, more distant. It was obvious that something about their past haunted them.

Now, MC was sweeping the floor of their oh-so-quiet shop. They knew that Asra will be home soon. After he noticed they were hanging by a thread, he didn't dare to leave them alone for more than a day. Of course, that meant that his regular trips were cancelled since he had to get home to his MC.

All kinds of thoughts were pooling up in MC's mind. That's what being alone did to them - not having anybody to talk to, not having any quick repairs to cope. The scariest place in the world is your own mind. And their mind? Their mind was full of all sorts of dark places.

They didn't want this. MC didn't ask for this! The first chance, the first shot at this crazy little thing called life was enough, and they didn't need more. They fucked up that first chance, didn't they? For as long as they could remember, the never-ending sadness was there, swirling deep in their chest.

Some people understood. Their friends, their closest ones, completely understood the ache and the tears, and never judged the poor apprentice. But some people didn't understand. The people who'd say: "You have no right to be unhappy! You have everything, your life is great! You have a home, you have friends and a wonderful partner, why are you so miserable?!"

And unfortunately, MC listened. They did think they were crazy for a while. The people were right. They had everything anyone could ever ask for and more. Yet, the voices in their mind kept whispering: "They'd be better off without you.."

MC remembers how angry, how mad they've gotten at Asra for what he did. As if he did anything wrong! He just wanted to save the love of his life, he wanted a chance to reverse their horrible faith. But they didn't want to be saved. Instead of kissing and hugging him as the prize for what a hero he was, MC started crying about how he reversed the cards.

It wasn't as if MC wasn't grateful for everything Asra did. That gesture meant everything, it meant more than a thousand "I love you's" He's given them something many people can't even hope to have: A second chance. A second chance they didn't want.

Now, the worst guilt imaginable flew through their veins. A person they love gave up half of his heart for them, and they didn't even want it! They didn't want to have a heartbeat anymore! How does one tell that to their lover? That it would have been better if he kept his heart complete?

Maybe, they could still give the heart back. Maybe it wouldn't hurt as much anymore if it came back to its original place in Asra's chest, if it reunited with its other half. And it would be so easy, so easy to just take it - to rip it from their chest and give it back to him.

They've dropped the broom from their shaky palms. Just like the ancient magic of The Arcana, something was pulling them - chanting their name like a mantra.

"Do it, do it, do it" The whisper was getting louder each time.

Asra trained MC for situations like this. He warned them not to listen, not to ever listen if they heard voices like those, especially after what happened with Lucio. No, they had to ignore them. Ignore them!

But this time, the pull was stronger than ever. Almost as if it was unbearable, as if the voices became stronger than ever before. The mysterious pull of what seemed to be their mind led them to the kitchen of their home, towards one of the drawers.

They knew what was in the drawer. It was the place of Asra's special, magical dagger they weren't allowed to touch. Apparently, it could either provide the most painful or the most peaceful of deaths, depending on what the user wanted. The magician prohibited the sharp dagger from ever leaving its place, just because he was afraid that MC would get hurt.

The handle of the dagger was cool under their hands. The razor-sharp metal was so shiny, that MC could see the reflection of their scared but eager eyes in it. This was what they waited for. Finally, there wouldn't be any regret, there wouldn't be any wishes that things played out differently.

A sharp sound echoed through the small room as the dagger sunk into their skin. The last thing MC saw was the person they loved, Asra, and the terrified look on his face as he walked through the door. His loud cry, followed by waterfalls of tears, became blurry, as everything seemed to ring in MC's ears.

"MC, NO, PLEASE!"

At last, they will be at peace. They know they've hurt Asra with their decision, but he'd be better off without them anyway. To ease his pain after what they did, they collected their last few breaths, and shakily whispered:

"Goodbye, Asra.."

168 notes · View notes

hollandfromhell · 3 years ago

Text

Traitor

Word Count: 1667

a/n: This wasn’t requested but I was really in my feels listening to Olivia so here’s this kinda angsty piece. Also, this is no hate to Zendaya.

requests: open

Brown guilty eyes and little white lies, I played dumb but I always knew

Her heart ached, an ache that could be felt even though the rest of her body was numb. Her hands were sweaty, her shirt rumpled and hair a mess, she was a shell of who she used to be. She knew she shouldn’t let this ruin her, shouldn’t let this shatter her world. But here she is, staring at the pieces of her once happy self. The worst part? She knew the whole time.

The little friend dates that became more frequent, the staying longer in LA when he wasn’t filming, the posts on his Instagram story. All signs pointed to Y/N losing him. She never said anything, always responded with love, because that’s who she was, a lover not a fighter.

Although she wished she had fought for Tom, or maybe she wished he had fought for her. After 4 years she’d thought he would, or at least not cheated on her. Maybe it was the time apart, maybe it was that Zendaya was better than her, or maybe he just didn’t get lost in Y/N anymore, not the way she did in him.

That you’d talk to her, maybe even did even worse, I kept quiet so I could keep you

The bathroom door closed louder than she wanted it to behind her, but she was too focused on keeping her breathing normal to noticed. Why did she look? Why did she have to be curious? They were supposed to have a good night after so many bad ones. They had shared a nice dinner and watched a movie on the couch, holding eachother like they used to before everything changed. Then they had gotten into bed and Tom had turned over onto his other side to check his phone. Which was fair, they had both been radio silent for the last three hours and she almost followed suit. Until his text messages caught her eye.

She had promised herself she would never be that person, the significant other that would read messages over their lovers phone, but she couldn’t help herself. The red from the heart emoji had stolen her attention away from her own phone, at first she thought it was just his mom, she had been using the red heart for the past couple months constantly. But the capital Z as the contact name completely decimated those thoughts. Can’t wait to see you next week ❤️.

And ain’t it funny how you ran to her the second that we called it quits? Ain’t it funny how you said you were friends now it sure as hell don’t look like it

Her day had been filled with nothing other than tears, sad romcoms, and ice cream, as clique as that sounds. At least Tom had waited to break up with her until it was Friday, now she didn’t have to go into work and pretend everything was okay, she had a two day grieving period, hopefully that was long enough for her to get her emotions in check. 4 years down the drain, the happiest years of her life with what she thought was the love of her life. She didn’t know what to do, should she delete his number? She had almost done it right after the phone call, along with all of their pictures, but what if he called back? What if he wanted her back? She couldn’t lose that much of their relationship, all the happy times.

But now she knew he didn’t want her back, he wasn’t going to call or come home, he had everything he needed now. The pap pics of Tom and Zendaya kissing had reached Y/N, and it was crushing her even more. How could they do this? Zendaya was supposed to be her friend, Tom was supposed to be her forever. And here they are locking lips, trying to rub it in her face that they’re happy and she’s miserable.

Loved you at your worst but that didn’t matter

She remembers the last minute flight she took to see him last December, the one she almost lost her dream job for. But it was worth it for him. Tom had called her the Monday before and had cried on the phone to her about how stressed he was, how much he missed his family, how much he missed her. She had done her best to comfort him, but she was thousands of miles away.

After he had fallen asleep, her phone adorn with his perfectly handsome face, she had booked the flight, one that had costed a pretty penny. And then she was off, on her way to New York, where he was filming his new movie. The hug and kiss they had shared when they saw each other made her feel as if she was on cloud nine, lost in the sky but somehow grounded in his arms.

Usually after they had spent some time together, winding down from the day and rememorizing each others bodies, Tom would be fine, happy even. But the bags that hung under his eyes and the paleness of his face told a different story, he was exhausted.

He broke down that night, telling her everything that had been bothering him. How he wished he could just leave the movie, go home and see the people he loved most. He said he hated acting, something she never would have thought he would ever say, this was his passion, everything he had worked so hard for. She held him close, did her best to sooth him, and let him get everything out.

Now you bring her around just to shut me down, show her off like she’s a new trophy

When Nikki had invited her to the friends and family grill out, she had said no, before she even knew Tom was going to be there. Yeah, her and Harry hung out and maybe she took Paddy out for ice cream a couple times, but that doesn’t mean she’s still family. If anything she was an aquantince.

But of course Nikki had convinced her, along with the help of the youngest Holland brother, and here she stood, outside at one of the high top tables talking with Sam about a new cook book she had gotten. Sam was going on and on about why yellow onions are better than white ones when Tom and Zendaya walked in, looking as perfect as ever. Her breath had caught in her throat and her head had snapped back to look at Sam, his eyebrows drawn in confusion.

She gave a sorry excuse as to why she had to go, something about needing to grab a spice from the store before it closed. She hurriedly pushed through the crowd of people standing next to the door, spewing out a quick excuse me and a soft smile at them. She knew Tom had seen her, she had made direct eye contact with him.

When she finally made it to her car parked down the road, she felt helpless. There’s no way Tom didn’t know she was going to be there, she knew Sam had texted him about her being at the party. And he still brought Zendaya. Her world shattered all over again.

Remember when I brought her up and you told me I was paranoid

Memories flash across her eyes whenever she closes them, good and bad, ones she never wants to forget and ones she can’t seem to get rid of. Like the one where she had asked Tom if he would stay home instead of going to LA for the weekend for Zendaya’s birthday.

“I have to go, she’s my best friend,” He had said, a smile on his face as he looked at her, “I’ll be back by Tuesday, and you’ll have me all to yourself.” He kissed her on the forehead and ran his fingers through her hair lightly. “Don’t make a big deal out of nothing, yeah?”

Her eyes closed as she leaned her head against his shoulder, “You’ve spent so much time there recently, please just stay.” She knew this was an ultimatum and she hated it, choose me over her, she had thought. Every two weeks like clockwork he’d find a reason to end up in LA.

“I love you darling, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. Don’t be so paranoid.” He was teasing her, his hands had slid down to her sides and tickled relentlessly until she burst out into laughter, “There’s my favorite smile.” Her heart sored.

I know you’ll never feel sorry for the way I hurt

She sat on their bed for the last time, looking at the picture of them at a friends wedding that sat on their bed side table, she had caught the bouquet that day. They had planned to change the picture when they got married, to a picture of their whole family at the wedding. But those plans were torn apart along with her heart.

As she went to leave she couldn’t help but pick the picture up, examine everything about it, they looked so in love, more than the bride and groom did. How could she have let her forever slip through her fingers.

She pulled the photo out of it’s frame and turned it over, she had almost forgot the note she had written on the back, to us, and the happy newlyweds, January 2019.She grabbed a pen from inside the drawer and scratched out the words that once resided on the page, she wrote a new note, one she hoped he would find. She wanted to hurt him.

God I wish you had thought this through before I went and fell in love with you.

516 notes · View notes

reidslibrarybook · 3 years ago

Text

Here We Go Again

Couple - Spencer x fem!reader

Warnings - mild language, allusions to s3x

Summary - Spencer and the team vacation to the Greek island of Skopelos where the iconic movie of Mamma Mia! was filmed. Spencer tried to hide his feelings of loneliness from everyone and takes refuge in Emily’s understanding of his situation. After reuniting with someone from his past who he regrets leaving, Spencer is filled with hope for a future with love and happiness.

Category - Kinda angsty, hurt/comfort, fluffy/extremely cheesy ending

Word Count - 3.3k

A/N - I was rewatching both of the Mamma Mia! movies and the idea for this oneshot kinda just popped into my brain. :)

masterlist

Join my taglist here!

—————————————————-

Sweat dripped down Spencer’s forehead as he rocked back and forth in the back of the obscenely large golf cart. At some point, everyone agreed to take a two-week team vacation every year. This year, the team chose to take a trip in the middle of July, much to Spencer’s chagrin— he hated the heat. He’d much rather rent a cabin with everyone in the winter, snuggling up with the BAU kids while watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa. Spencer loved Halloween, but Christmas was a nostalgic time that brought about feelings of glee.

When Penelope pulled up the results of the poll the team took to decide where they would go, Spencer really hoped it would be a location with mild weather. Instead, the majority voted to vacation to the Greek island of Skopelos with sweltering 100-degree weather.

So, here he was, absolutely drenched in his perspiration as two golf carts drove side-by-side to one of Rossi’s many properties in Greece. Since Rossi had a place to stay on the island, everyone decided to take one room, and share it with their family if they brought one.

Once they reached the extensive estate, everyone lugged their bags into the air-conditioned home. Spencer’s bags seemed to be the heaviest since he brought an overwhelming amount of books. He planned to stay inside the residence at a tolerable temperature unless Derek somehow manages to convince him otherwise— which he always does.

Three days into the trip and Spencer was absolutely miserable. Everyone had brought some type of companion with them, and if they hadn’t, they found one. JJ was accompanied by Will and her children, Derek brought Savannah, Hotch and Rossi spent time with Jack, Emily hung out with a beautiful Greek woman she met at dinner last night, and Penelope was enchanted by an exceedingly handsome man named Luke who worked for the FBI as well, in the Fugitive Task Force.

The only person who was left alone was… Spencer.

While everyone found joy in the company of another, he hid away in his room reading the copious books he brought. He didn’t want to go out and witness his friends’ happiness, as bad as it sounds, he didn’t want to be reminded of his terminal loneliness.

Around 8:00 at night, he heard a knock on his door while he was attempting to read at a moderate pace, so as not to read all his books before their trip ended. He begrudgingly leaped off his bed and stepped towards the door.

“Derek?”

“Kid, we’re going to a bar.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, trying to figure out what Derek was asking him, “Oh ok, do you want me to watch the kids?”

“No, Savannah volunteered to stay back while the rest of us go out.”

“Alright, have fun,” Spencer blurted as he tried to shut the door before Derek could say what he was really interrupting Spencer for.

Derek managed to slide his foot between the door and the frame, “Nope, you’re coming with us. You’ve been stuck in your room for the past 4 days. You’re supposed to be enjoying the trip, kid.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and walked away from the door and towards his bed, “How can I, it’s honestly pitiful how lonely I am. I hate going out because I’m surrounded by so much PDA, it’s like everyone is unintentionally rubbing it in my face.”

“Reid, you’re only lonely because you’re not trying.”

“Not everyone is like you, Derek. I don’t have your charisma or charms or… fuck, I don’t know. People don’t throw themselves at my feet as they do for you.”

“That’s not true. Listen, just come with us. You may or may not find someone, but just know you’re never lonely. You have all of us, we’re always here whenever you need us to be,” Derek comforted as he gave Spencer a light pat. “Now get ready, we’re leaving in 30,” and with that, Derek clicked the door shut.

Spencer went to sort out something to wear that would cover him enough to protect him from the onslaught of germs but still allow him to be cool enough to function. He left his room and went down to the foyer with five minutes to spare.

“Yay, Spencer’s here!” Penelope squealed as she clung to Luke’s arm.

Emily pulled her hair back into a loose bun and headed towards the door, “Alright, now that everyone’s here, let’s get going.”

Everyone took a short 5 minute walk to the bar across the street. As they all walked into the bar, Spencer was immediately hit with the intense smell of sweat and alcohol mixed together in an unpleasant scent. Derek saved a booth near the dance floor and everyone piled in with shots in their hand.

“Oh my god, I love the vibe of this place. Very Mamma Mia!” Penelope shouted across the table.

“Actually, this island is where the majority of the movie and its sequel were shot, the rest was filmed in Croatia. Also, the broadway production that the movies were based on wasn’t actually the first to utilize the popularized ABBA songs. The French TV special, Abbacadabra, sprinkled many of their songs throughout the run time.” Spencer rambled as he looked towards one of the posters.

“That’s cool,” Penelope said politely. He could tell no one was really interested in his facts so he stayed quiet. Eventually, everyone except Spencer and Emily made their way to the dance floor, fueled by the raging alcohol in their systems.

“So, talk to me. What’s wrong with you?” Emily voiced with a rather somber look on her face.

“What makes you think that there’s something wrong with me.”

“You’ve barely spoken to anyone and you seem sad. It doesn’t take a profiler to notice your shift in behavior. If you really didn’t want to come, you didn’t have to. We all just wanted to spend time together away from all the dead bodies.” Emily comforted.

“It’s not the heat, I- I’m just kind of frustrated.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, just seeing everyone so happy with another person is making me question my future. Am I ever going to be happy with someone else like JJ is with Will? Will I ever get to love someone?”

“Spencer, of course you will, but you won’t if you don’t try.” Emily sipped her beer and looked towards a smiling JJ being twirled by Will.

Spencer sighed, “Where’s that girl you were with yesterday?”

“She was just a fling, it wouldn’t have worked out in the long run.”

“Are you going to say that for everyone who’s not JJ?”

Emily looked back to Spencer with her eyes widened.

“Is it that obvious?”

“To everyone but her.”

“I love her so much, Spencer. I’m supposed to be happy for her, she’s my best friend. But how can I when she’s with someone who’s not me?”

“Can I be honest with you? I don’t think JJ is going to leave Will anytime soon, especially not when there are two kids between them. I’ve seen you pine over her for years, Emily, and I hate that you can’t be with the one you love. There’s nothing you can do that wouldn’t ruin your friendship with her, maybe it’s time for you to move on.” Emily agreed with a nod and gulped the rest of her beer.

“You’ve felt love before right? With Maeve?”

“I have, but not with Maeve. After she died, I thought about my feelings for her a lot and I think it was a case of transference. I did love someone a long time ago. We were young and I wasn’t sure if she loved me back. I was too much of a coward to do anything about it. I’ll never forget her,” he smiled as he reminisced.

“Then you know how I feel about JJ. I know I’ll never have her and that I have to move on, but some part of me will always love her even if she doesn’t feel the same. I wish I could do something about it, but I’d rather have her in my life as just a friend than not have her at all.”

And as Emily gulped the last of her liquor, she went back to the bar for another.

A half hour later, everyone trickled back to the booth, they sat down in need of some refreshments. They were all conversing lazily as they tried to recover before they inevitably all went back to the dance floor, minus a sad Spencer and Emily. Spencer was loosely listening to Penelope talking when he sees someone familiar.

Someone he hadn’t seen his days at CalTech. It was you.

Spencer jumps up from his seat and yells in your direction, “Y/N. Y/N!”

You turn around and your eyes widen as you realize who it was, “SPENCER!”

Spencer hastily makes his way out of the booth, stepping on someone’s toes, as you both rush towards one another.

The two of you jumped into each other’s arms as you both took comfort in each other’s embrace. It had been so long, too long since you’ve last seen each other.

“I- I can’t believe it’s you.”

“How long has it been, Spence? 10 years?”

“Yea, just about.”

“Hey, Pretty Boy is with a pretty girl!” shouted Derek in his inebriated stupor.

You and Spencer shared a gleeful glance as he led you back to the booth that harbored Spencer’s peers.

“Guys, this is Y/N Y/L/N. We knew each other years ago when she was in high school and I was still at CalTech.”

“It’s really nice to meet everyone," you said as Spencer glanced over to see Emily and Penelope whispering with devious grins on their faces.

As the night went on, Y/N got to know the rest of the team. Spencer’s frown was replaced with a grin so wide that he could barely see. Emily was happy that her best friend who she thought of as her little brother finally had the chance to love.

“Alright, well we should get to the bar to get more drinks then get our asses back on the dance floor,” Emily grinned as she pulled everyone out to give the two some privacy.

Then she whispered into Spencer’s ears with a knowing look and patted his shoulder, “Don’t be a coward, shoot your shot.”

Spencer looked towards her with a thankful smile as she looked over to Y/N in an oddly familiar way, like they knew each other. He brushed it off as she guided the drunken mass to the bar, probably giving them water in hopes of sobering them up enough for them to walk home later.

“So, how have you been? It’s been a while since you left California for the FBI.”

Spencer smiled, “I’ve been good, I love my job, it’s incredibly fulfilling and I love the work we do. Where are you now… what do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer, I mean you could probably just assume that because you knew I was aiming for a degree in poli sci,” you blushed at your rather adorable rambling. “I live in Boston now, you know I’ve always loved the cold.”

Spencer chuckled, “Yet you’re here in Greece… during arguably the hottest time of the year.”

“I forgot how much of a smart ass you are.”

“And I forgot how slow you are sometimes.”

You and Spencer both laughed loudly as you teased each other relentlessly as you did years ago. Some things just… never change.

“Hey, let’s get out of here. I remember seeing this awesome place near the beach with a great view and cooling breeze. I think we both need that after being stuck in a bar for the past,” you look down at your watch that’s practically sliding off because of your sweat, “2 hours.”

“Yea, let’s go.” Spencer practically dragged you out of the booth, thankful that you suggested leaving the germ-infested bar. As the two of you made your way out through the crowd, Emily got a glimpse of Spencer’s gleaming smile and grinned at the thought of Spencer being happy.

You led Spencer through the streets of the island, walking in the middle of the very cramped road. The two of you broke the silence with your cackling as Spencer chased you relentlessly. It brought a warm feeling that spread throughout your chest, knowing that you may have a chance at love again with the man you were so hopelessly head-over-heels for before.

The two of you eventually made it to the little gazebo you were referencing. Spencer was glad to be away from the drunken hoard of people, it wasn’t boding well for his social anxiety and germaphobia. He would much rather be with you in a secluded space as you both tried to revive the love that you shared.

Spencer wanted to make the most out of the time he had with you so he asked, “How long are you here for?”

“Another week, you?”

“A week and 3 days, roughly.”

“Well, we better be spending the rest of the week together because we probably won’t be able to hang out after our vacations are over.”

“Why not?”

“Because-” you sighed as you looked away from him and down at your hands, “because we live in different places.”

“I don’t see why we can’t call or text each other?”

“But, you hate technology.”

“If it means I get to talk to my favorite person in the whole world, I could put aside my vexation with technology.”

“But, we’re both incredibly busy, and what if our schedules keep us from communicating. You travel to different states on a regular basis, that means we’ll be in different time zones most of the time and-”

He cut you off by putting his hand on yours. A raised eyebrow and slightly pursed lip graced his sculpted face illuminated by the moonlight, “What’s going on? Do you not want to keep in touch?”

You stood up and paced in front of him, signs of agitation written all over your body and face, “No, it’s not that. I just… I don’t know. I’m afraid, I think.”

“Of what? Me?”

“No, no. God no. I’m afraid of you leaving again, of us growing apart. I came here thinking that I’d be able to enjoy a couple of days with you and be satisfied, but I’ve only spent a few hours with you and I already know that’s not enough. There are too many things that could keep us apart. It… hurts too much to not have you be mine.”

Spencer stood up and took your hands in his, pulling you close to him, “Of course I’m yours.”

“Not in that way, not in a platonic way. I’ve always loved you, Spencer. I want you to be mine.”

He looked away from you as his hands slowly slipped from yours, “Oh.”

Your eyes pricked with tears as you took his rejection to heart. You pulled your hands out of his in fear, his dismissal filled you as you tried to process what he meant by ‘oh’. Spencer caught on quickly that you thought he was declining your confession.

He walked towards you slowly as he used his finger to lift your chin up, his thumb rubbed your cheeks that were damp with tears, “I’ve loved you too, since the very beginning. 10 minutes before I saw you in the bar, I was just thinking about how much of a wimp I was when we were together. But I promise you,” he kissed your tears away between each word, “I am yours.”

You looked up at him with hopeful eyes, “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“So, you’ll love me no matter what?”

“Of course.”

“Good!” you smiled as you tackled Spencer into the rushing blue water that reflected the full moon. You could feel him trying to squirm out of your grasp and back to the land.

“Y/N! Do you know how many marine microbial organisms like bacteria are in the water? They are exceedingly small and one million of them can live in one piece of seaweed. ONE! Imagine how many of them are lodged in our hair right now?!”

“Oh come on, Spencer. Let go, swim with me,” you said as you released his waist and paddled further out into the sea— cooled by the crystal clear water. Spencer sighed relentlessly and swam out towards you.

The two of you held each other as the moon and the twinkling stars shone from above, it was heavenly… it was paradise. After an hour in the water, Spencer decided that he would take you back to your hotel room to pick up your belongings— you’d be staying in his room for the rest of the week.

Spencer opened the door for you as he found the whole team waiting for him.

“Did you two go skinny dipping?” Derek shouted, obviously surprised that Spencer would ever do something as risqué as that.

“No, we did not, but Y/N is staying in my room while she’s here. Is that alright with you Rossi?”

The old man smirked, “Of course, just be considerate and try not to make too much noise.”

Laughter erupted amongst the team, you and Spencer were red as cherry tomatoes. Spencer hastily ushered you upstairs in order to avoid any more obscene jokes. He made space for your things in his room, enjoying your close proximity.

The week flew by like a breeze. The two of you made your relationship official and continued to enjoy the island together. You both explored the many amenities the villa had to offer and relished the local cuisine. You even got Spencer to go wakeboarding, it took a lot of convincing but there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you. He opted to leave at the same time you were, seeing no point in spending another week in Greece without you.

At the end of the week, you and Spencer said your goodbyes as you made your way to the airport. You and Spencer settled into your seats, pulling out a book from his mini backpack.

Spencer looked over to you, nudging your shoulder lightly, “So, how do you and Emily know each other?”

You looked at him with surprise written all over your face, “How did you know?”

“O.”vior and body language for a living. I’d be a pretty bad profiler if I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be mad,” you sighed, “Emily and Penelope actually looked into your files and found out that we had a history together, so they tracked me down and told me that you and the team would be in Greece for the next two weeks. I would’ve stayed longer but I have a hearing the next week.”

“So, our miraculous reunion was all set up?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of ironic too.”

“How so?”

“I mean, this is the island where Mamma Mia! was filmed and one of your close friends calls someone from your past in hopes of making you a little less lonely. Em isn’t walking down the aisle or anything but it’s a pretty good story.”

“Yes, it is. I guess you could say ‘here we go again’.”

You and Spencer laughed at his extremely cheesy play on words. Admiration filled your eyes, as you looked forward to your adventures with him down the road. It was everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Your future was sitting right beside you and you knew that he would never leave because he was yours.

—————————————————-

join my taglist here!

378 notes · View notes

visd3stele · 3 years ago

Text

Regulus fic - all great couples pull a great con

summary: you're dating Regulus as a muggle born, but since you have a foreign name and keep tightly to yourself, no one knows your blood status. When you are giving a representation in front of a wizarding gathering as Hogwarts best student, and his parents find out you're dating, they want to meet you. Can you and Regulus trick them and meet their expectation of their son dating a pure blood?

TW: vague mentions of a bad home situation, alcohol and VERY subtle references to sexual interactions. There is fluff, with a bit of an angsty end.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :)

MASTERLIST

The Great Hall has never been so stuffed. Professors, students and parents alike - family after family member, all gathered inside the now too crammed space of Hogwarts. The occasion? Every year, each professor chooses their most talented pupil. And after a round of academic trials and exams, one is selected to represent Hogwarts abroad.

Magic schools had exchange students as well. But they also liked to take things further and brag about their programs and fame to each other. So every summer, there'd be a reunion of all wizarding schools, bringing together the most potent teachers with their greatest asset.

This year, y/n had won at Hogwarts. And to prepare herself for the show she'll have to pull off in four months, she's giving a representation for what seemed to be at least half of the British wizarding world.

"Nervous, chérie?" Regulus asked. As the second son of the House of Black, Regulus Arcturus was everything his big brother refused to be: a perfect heir. Sorted in Slytherin, keeping an elite company of pure bloods children and following his parents directions in every aspect of his obscenely rich life. Well, all except one.

Love. No one would have believed, but Regulus Arcturus Black was a hopeless romantic. He'd read any novel - muggle or wiz written - where the happy couple takes whatever fate has to throw at them, and keeps standing together. Or cry over the ones in which a tragedy separates them. He'd even enjoy learning love lines of poetry, to later recite them to his girlfriend. Nothing too unusual, right? Except, that girlfriend was y/n, the only utterly and completely muggle born witch sorted in Slytherin.

At first, she had a hard time. And he has been one of the twats making her life miserable at Hogwarts. But y/n was strong. And smart. And her smile could melt any heart of stone, ice or metal. Or at least, this is what Regulus thought. He had been charmed by her witt, learning quickly that she could talk for hours, say nothing of sense and only cause confusion - but still having a wide, patient audience, or speak a few words and change someone's perspective of life. And she knew how to use it in her advantage. A real Slytherin, despite what her fellow snakes believed. Y/n had great ambitious and the means to achieve them, wilding her upper mentioned gift to extract juicy facts without making it look like it, play dumb and weak to get in Quidditch and then create the best strategy they had. That year, they won against Gryffindor at last!

When Regulus caught on her cunning schemes, he just had to have one real conversation with her. It baffled him that a mud blood could do such amazing things. Not only was Regulus surprised, but also impressed - even though he won't admit it. So they talked. And she has been so funny, pocking him with ironic, well thought insults teasingly. They got lost in going back and forth with comebacks, sarcastic comments - that looked a little bit too much like flirting - and powerfully supported arguments that Regulus simply had to repeat the experience.

The boy couldn't get enough of her voice, how that mesmerizing flow of her mind would spill in carefully crafted words with ease. He loved to see the crooked smile she offered him when he told her pure bloods might be wrong after all. In so many ways, they're wrong. It was also the day he asked y/n to a proper, romantic date. To which she replied with the lightest tone of mockery "Et finalment, milord", adding quickly "I would like nothing more" and kissing him on the cheek in a sign of good faith.

"Un petit, oui, my heart." Y/n said, dashing her fingers through mid neck length hair. It's curly strands meddled with long bony fingers, shaking until Regulus took her hands in his. He rubbed his thumbs over the valley of her palms in gentle circles. Then he lowered his head slowly, grey eyes never leaving e/c ones as his lips touched first y/n's right, then y/n's left wrist. The feather light kiss sent a blush to her face, the color spreading from her fingers to her nose. Her boyfriend fixating her with that heated look did little to help.

"I know they'll be so in awe with you, chérie, they won't be able to do anything but stare minutes after you have left the stage."

"Regulus!" y/n hissed. He still hasn't stepped away. And thus, neither did her blush. In fact, the closeness and hoarse whispered words only made it worse. Regulus quirked his lips upward, only a bit, in a side grin. But if the lower part of his face gave him away, the wiggled eyebrows and big wide eyes were the portrait of innocence. As if the bloody snake didn't know what he was doing!

"Merde, Regulus! I'm supposed to get out there soon. Let me recompose myself."

"You really are nervous, aren't you. Come on, y/n, you'll be great."

"They won't like me."

"What are you talking about?" Regulus frowned. Usually, his girlfriend would keep her spine straight and walk through all kinds of hells with a sneer, a confident smile that promised she knew something other don't - which oftenly it was the case - or pity. Pity! Surrounded by the richest heirs of the oldest families, kids of idle lives with parents with enough money, influence and power to build statues and name them heroes on high placed pedestals. And she had the audacity to pity them.

Now, though, y/n looked scared. Small, little and fragile, panic leaving in uneven breaths, gleaming in her eyes.

"Y/n, darling, what is it?"

"You know, Regulus. You know. There are dozens of pure bloods in there. Wizards and witches who'd take one look at me at best before deciding I'm worth nothing. And then they'll demand I'm replaced, I'm not fit for this honor and to avoid trouble with the Ministry - pour, bien sûr, ils sont tous au ministére - Dumbledore will give course to their request."

Regulus allowed y/n a few moments to catch her breath. "And here I thought it really was me that kept you uncomposed."

Y/n glared at her boyfriend, but said nothing. The silence between them was filled by him. "Don't worry about it, cherié. I'll make sure no one knows more about you than how talented and hard working you are."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, your magic is surreal indeed, y/n." The hard look he received made Regulus lay down his plan. "Look they may know every important family in wizarding Britain, but they're rather clueless about other countries situation. Your family came here from French, the last name says as much. Tonight, you'll be a mysterious, foreign pure blood who some how settled in England a while ago. In fact, that would make the fancy party like you even more."

Y/n beamed. Then knitted her eyebrows together. Then said in a weak voice, as if pretending she didn't see it, it'll be less of a problem: "The other students will happily fill them in."

"My dearest, darling, y/n, I said I'll figure a way out and I will. Do you trust me?"

"Sure, my heart. Thank you."

He did it. He actually did it. Y/n had no idea how and for the first time in her life had no intention of finding out. But Regulus managed to smoothen the ground for her representation. Everyone talked about her show, her magic, her talent. No one talked about her.

After y/n left the made up stage, beaming with the sparks of her achievement - a very impressive play of colors, lights and easy-looking complicated spells to revel in - she spent the night in Regulus' arms. Her boyfriend was proud of her, and she was grateful to him.

"May I have a dance with the most exquisite girl in England... and fair French?"

Y/n laughed. The boy had his own way with words. While she wielded them swiftly, like a small, pointy hidden dagger in a sword's fight, Regulus liked to linger. He'd make his voice take space and have depth, not by the loudness of it, but by the largeness of his words. The way he paused or accentuated a certain part of his speech carried meaning. Incentive. He too could sway people off their feet and get what he wants. Like y/n. Except, Regulus did it subtler, much more refined.

"Avec le plus grand plaisir, my heart."

They danced. Freely and without a care in the world. She led the steps, but he spined her whenever he wanted, either it fit the song or not, only to see the short hair hug her flushed face. Gold and pink head pieces framing it. Such purity, such burst of life and beauty in between the dark and green of her Slytherin dress.

Just like y/n has been the ray of light to enter my life. Regulus thought. And said as much to his girlfriend when she found refugee in his arms once more. He smiled down at her and as the music halt to its end, he locked their lips together in a sweet dance of their own.

Lost and completely surrendered to each other as the young magical pair was, neither of them noticed the intense gaze following their every movement.

Regulus and y/n took a break from their endless fun and celebrating to find the buffet. Regulus was filling two glasses with rootbear while y/n picked some tarts and fruit slices and fit them on a plate for both when Walburga and Orion Black approached them.

"Y/n, if I'm not mistaken." The imposant man spoke. His hair, just like his sons and wife's, was the blackest of nights. He also bear the strange eye color of the Black family. That unusual grey that could be the calm sky of october over a pumpkin field or the unforgiving clouds of storm over poor sailors out and away from harbor.

Taken by surprise, y/n stopped in her tracks. She almost let the plate fell, with every delicious food her stomach cried for. But to her credit, the young witch turned to face two of the members of the oldest wizarding family. Also known as her boyfriend's keepers.

Regulus told her about his life at home. How responsibilities and expectations pressed on his shoulders since birth. How refusal to comply or failure to do so brought painful repercussions. And how it has only gotten worse after his big brother left and was burned off the family tapestry. No more Sirius to take the blame for an innocent mistake. No more rebel Gryffindor to be blamed, looked after and fought with. No more prodigal son to take their whole focus and give Regulus an easier time. From now on, he was the heir. He had to act accordingly: behave only at the highest of manners, indulge only select company.

Y/n knew what else her boyfriend was forced to do. The mark that inked his wrist, pulsing its cursed magic in waves of pain through his body. He had told her right after. She'll never forget the glassy eyes that looked like a cracked, dusty old mirror, horror and hurt all over his face. In a voice that couldn't possibly belong to the Regulus she knew, he asked her to leave him. Y/n didn't.

"Did you want it?"

"Of course, not!"

"Do you abide by their believes?"

"You know I don't. Not anymore, my life. Never again."

And that was it. Y/n decided to stick by his side, the unwilling Death Eater and the crazy muggle born.

"Yes," she answered. "That's me."

"I am Orion Black, as I am sure you already know and this is my wife, Walburga."

Y/n dipped her chin in greeting, forcing a pleasant smile on her face. "Of course. To what do I owe the honor?" She expected anything from the man. Despite his polite demeanor so far, he is actively supporting the Dark Lord. He could easily out power her, use a spell so quickly she wouldn't even see him mutter the words, or his wand moving and she'd be in one of the many Death Eater's secret slaughter houses. Muggleborns started to disappear a while ago, sometimes entire families, magic in their veins or not, would go missing. Everyone knew the culprits, but no proof emerged.

To her shock and relief, the woman at his arm took over the conversation. Y/n studied her. Though clearly holding to tradition, Walburga couldn't be called out fashioned. Her clothes, though stiff and mild, held grace. Their real value came from the woman wearing them, like royalty through her servants. Her back straight, her eyes cold, her nose lightly scrunched and her lips only curved upward with indulgence, Walburga Black really looked like she was doing everyone a favor by showing up.

The old hag probably belives so too, Regulus will say later that night, when y/n shared her thoughts with him. She will laugh, demanding to know how come he calls his mother an old hag, cruel and vicious in punishments or not. As much as she deserved it, it is not something Regulus Arcturus Black would say.

My brother, he'd murmur. And that would be all. Y/n will not press, just kiss him slightly on his bare shoulder, nuzzling his neck afterwards to shake off the melancholy and nostalgia missing his brother caused.

"I have seen you with our son the whole night."

Y/n could be many things. Brave, loyal, smart, crafty and extremely kind to people who made a home in her heart. However, right now, facing the people she came to loath for what they did to that brilliant, charming boy she adored to call her own, y/n felt her heart racing. Sweat running down her body. She didn't fear for herself, for what this despicable, hateful pair would do to her, though. Oh, no. She feared for what it'd mean for Regulus. If they saw them dancing, laughing, kissing, what would they do to him in the safety of their four walls? If they disowned a son and still needed an heir, how far would they go with their beatings, the starving and forbidden curses? All because he was caught with her. The muggle born.

But before guilt and panic, dread and shame could overcome her, Regulus slithered his way in. "Mother, father," he bowed his head to each, setting down the glasses. "It's good to see you." He added dutifully.

"Hello, son. Likewise." Orion seemed to be a man of few words, y/n noticed. Walburga, however, smiled radiantly and hugged her son to her chest. "Regulus, dear, it's been so long!"

"Yes, well, only a few more months until spring break."

"Yes, that's right! The spring break. Y/n, you will be attending the meeting then, right?"

"Oui", the witch slipped in her mother tongue, wrecked by nerves and confusion. Why are they so nice?

"As far as I know, it only lasts a week. Would you be free the other two until you must return to Hogwarts?"

She forced herself to say "yes", and even get it out without making it sound like a question. She didn't understand what was happening and she couldn't find it in her to pull herself together and find out.

Sensing his girlfriend too stunned by his side, and being curios - and worried - as well, Regulus took the lead. "May I inquire what plans do you have in regards to my girlfriend, mother? I should know, after all, no?"

"Of course, Regulus." It seemed like she exhausted the motherly warmth in those first seconds. "Since it is clear you two are in a serious relationship, which I find insulting of only finding out now and in this manner, no last! I thought your father and I should meet her. If you are to inherit the Black legacy and continue the family name with her, then she should be properly introduced to our ways."

Y/n marveled at her will when she stopped her body from chocking on nothing but air and Walburga's words.

"Continue the line with her?" Regulus asked, just as taken aback.

"Of course. Judging by your display tonight I assumed those were your intentions. Are they not?"

"Surely your mother and I raised you better than dishonoring a fine, young lady by publicly claiming her and not planning on marrying." Orion said, with his stone grey eyes measuring Regulus from his head to his toes. "And I should like to believe you know better than dragging our name through a scandal with a girl you do not want." His voice behold a harsh, sharp edge. A subtle threaten that caused Regulus to swallow, reaching for the glasses he regretfully dispatched earlier.

"Therefore, we would like to invite y/n over for dinner. Three days after she returns from the continent. Quite enough time to recover from the trip and inform her parents in France."

Y/n sensed the internal war next to her. If Regulus declines the invitation, he'd have hell to face at home. But if he agrees, he'd put her in danger. Y/n chimed in then, not allowing her boyfriend to exchange his safety for hers as Regulus was most likely to do.

"Of course, madam Black. Monsieur Black. It would be my greatest pleasure and honor." This way, she stepped in harm's way on her own and they'd have to fight it together.

"Perfect. It is settled." And with the clear command, Orion and Walburga Black followed the rest of the adults who weren't working at Hogwarts out the big mahon doors.

"What are you thinking, y/n?" Regulus hissed as soon as his parents - or any other pure blood - walked far enough to be out of hearing zone.

"I saw how they looked at you, my heart! I heard how they spoke! I'm not leaving you to that, what ever it may be."

"Y/n" Regulus sighed, moved by the witch's caring. Yes they have been friends since third years. Yes they started dating before the summer of their fifth. But love has always been a strange concept to him. His brother loved him, but he left him alone. His parents claim to love him, but they never shy from inflicting pain on him. He always had a feeling Kreacher loved him too, but the house elf would always report back to his mother, no matter the consequences.

So to have y/n proclaim she'd fight for him, with him, never leaving his side to misery and horrors, Regulus had no other choice but to declare himself defeated, crushed by the ever flowing, ever growing stream of love reciprocated exactly the same by her. She won before it even evolved in a proper argument.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"They only invited you because they think you are a french pure blood." The heir of the most noble and most ancient house of Black pulled y/n under Ravenclaw's tribunes at the Quidditch match. They played against the wisest young witches and wizards and won. Now, Hufflepuffs were on the field with Gryffindor to decide which houses would face each other in the finales before spring break.

"So you can be excused from not knowing some of the pure blood's ways in Britain. But they'd expect basic table manners and high etiquette." None of them had time to change, adamant in building the biggest scheme of their lives to the finest detail. Nothing was too insignificant. And everything had to be perfectly arranged.

"And we have to come up with a story. They will ask questions, a great deal of them. They'll be all over you, ready to smell the littlest hesitation or lie, like vultures at an injured animal's decaying wound." Sweat damped his black curls, hair sticking uncomfortably to his forehead. Y/n's own strands stuck to her neck itched the tender skin. Their cheeks still wore the marks of a heated game, flushed and burning. And their sport uniforms, normally loose and easy to move in, seemed glued to their bodies, so drenched in sweat that at a irregular interval the pair heard drops of it hitting the ground. All Regulus and y/n wanted was a long, relaxing bath, to get rid of the unpleasant smell and the sticky sensation. But what they needed to do was make sure they get everthing right for the dinner with his parents.

"Lovely."

"Sorry, cherié. I just- You have to know exactly what you agreed on."

"I know, my heart, I know. I got my story, I got my answers and I could have tea with the Queen at this point, that far into manners and etiquette I am."

Regulus smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. Y/n continued. "What I would like to know is what happens next? If they like me, how are we going to keep the lie up and steady? Especially when your parents ought to learn the truth from one of our classmates. And what if they don't like me? Are we going to keep seeing each other in secret? Most likely your parents will have a list of more suitable brides at ready even at our dinner."

"I don't think so. You really impressed them, y/n. You managed to sway the whole room. They already like you, now we just have to keep it that way. As for what happens next, let's see how this dinner goes and decide after it."

"Trés bien, I suppose." Y/n sighed, unconvinced. The ticking clock announcing the last minutes of the game matched her thoughts as they came and pass before she could properly ponder over only one. They were all pretty much the same, anyway. Worry for being forcefully parted with her lover, reflected in his thined lips as well. Young as they may be, Regulus and y/n knew they were right for each other. More than a spark of love bloomed between them. It was a fire, forever growing, tended by both to feel the warmth of its flames. And the threat of losing it was like someone opened the window during a snow storm and all the heat died out, leaving them with bitter wind snapping their backs and snow coating and soaking them dead.

"I love you, Regulus Arcturus Black." Y/n suddenly said. She jumped in his arms that he barely had time to open for her and buried her head in his neck. She hugged him tight, continuing to breath on his cold skin. "I love you more than love itself and thousand lives from now I'll still love you!" Y/n brought her face up, pulling away just enough to look him in the eyes, but not stepping out of his embrace. She ran a finger through his damped hair, brushing it from his face as the wizard locked her own annoying loose strands behind her year with a gentle touch lingering at the back of her head. They smiled, soft, dreamy smiles of people who discovers a new wonder of the world and are completely taken by it. Except love has been around for ages, but everyone believes they discovered it. And what do we know? It may be just the case.

"Je t'aime aussi, my world." He whispered against her forehead, pressing a kiss on the fold of her rising brows. As y/n looked up, Regulus let his eyes travel south, roaming over her face, wishing to register every detail he was given access by the close proximity. She was doing the same when e/c eyes fell onto pink lips. His eyes darted on hers as well. And wasting no more than a jiffy to assure the sync in minds and bodies, y/n got up on her toes, his lips covering hers. The witch and the wizard reveled on the feeling of each other's mouth, eyes closed, willing their lungs to keep on longer, longer before demanding air.

When they pulled apart, a dizzy veil clouded their minds. The only clear thought: an impulse, a command for more. They obliged, heartfully. If the kiss before has been sweet and romantic, the product of two teens in love, this second one was desperate. Two caged souls, fighting invisible chains of society to fly to each other. Y/n and Regulus launched themselves on each other, clinging to clothes, hair, bodies to not fall off their feet at the impact. The force of it sent teeth clenching, lips parting for more access.

Kiss. Breath. Kiss. Breath. One after another like an infinite path of nature, Regulus and y/n remained under Ravenclaws stands until the Quidditch field emptied and sun begun to set.

When the feral need of simply knowing the other is still there. Of touching to make sure it's all real. Regulus pulled apart, trying to catch his breath. He wanted nothing more than to take y/n to an evening date. Let it stretch until morning, holding her close all night. If y/n's frown and delicate pout were any indications, she had the same ideas. But they both needed a bath, and rest. Y/n would leave in the morning with McGonagall and Slughorn and he had a dinner to plan.

"We've got this, cherié. I promise."

"Promises are heavy, my heart. But I'll take it. Let's do this."

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Regulus paced up and down in front of the tapestry. Downstairs, he could hear his mother ordering the elves around with the same linear voice she used to disown his brother. Never show emotion, Regulus. She'd told him once. Not on your face, not in your gestures nor eyes. Don't even let it slip in your voice.

Walburga, like the rest of the pure blood community abide by that rule her whole life. As a boy, Regulus was often confused. He'd try to listen to his mother, but Sirius would drag him along in funny games that left him breathless with laugh. His older brother would speak to him with voice dipped in sarcasm, but he showed he cared. So Regulus couldn't appropriate the stole cold expertise required by his status to himself. Not properly.

Now, overcomed by doubts, Regulus wished more than ever he would have. Either that or gain his brother back to his side, at least for this dangerous con he started.

A low, yet sharp voice brought him out of his reverie. "Mistress Walburga sent Kreacher to call young Master Regulus in the dinning room. Immediately."

Regulus smiled at the house elf who practically raised him instead of his parents. "Thank you, Kreacher. I'm coming." And he did just that, fearing his mother temper and what'd mean for the little creature.

"Ah, Regulus. Good." Walburga greeted her youngest son. "Your father will arrive soon. How long until y/n is here? I do hope she won't be until Orion has time to settle."

"No, mother. Of course."

"Because that would be too early and highly improper for a pure blood young lady we are to welcome in the family."

"Don't worry, mother, y/n is the epitome of propriety. She will arrive later than father."

"But not too late, I assume."

"No, mother. Right on time, I swear."

Regulus begin to sweat lightly. Did his mother find out somehow? Was this all an act to catch y/n and hit him harsher, dragging the story along, letting him believe he fooled them? To his relief, the door opened and in stepped Orion Black.

"Good evening, dear. Hello, son." He handed his coat to the nearest house elf - who had to leap in a rush to take it - and approached the dinning room. "Why are we gathered here? I reckon y/n didn't arrive yet, am I right?"

"No, father. She's not here yet."

"The girl seems to have been given a good education so far. I only called Regulus here to offer his thoughts on the arrangements, since he knows our honor guest better than us."

Orion hummed his affirmation and left for the living room, leaving Regulus and Walburga to tend to last minute preparations. This might be the night that assures the family name's continuity. Everything had to be perfect.

Outside the intimidating house on the Grimmauld street number twelve, y/n rubbed her hands over her arms, doubts swirling in her mind. Even the architecture seemed dark and imposing. As if it knew her secret and wanted to out her. This is for Regulus. She'd say over and over again. And yourself. Your relationship. So, pull yourself together, y/n! She knocked.

A small, greyish magical creature opened the door, not without struggle y/n noticed. She caught herself right before leaning down and and handing her hand out for the house elf. She posed as a pure blood tonight, she can't afford to be nice.

"Kreacher is happy to welcome young Mistress y/n in the residence of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black." To her credit as a first time actress, y/n did not flinch an inch at the title attributed to her. Instead, she half smiled, throw a "thank you" the elf's way and moved passed him in the house.

"Your coat?" She handed it to him carelessly, carrying herself with an attitude she despised in all of her classmates: nose up, chin out, shoulders too rolled back and spine stiff, owning the entire room as if it belonged to her.

"Right this way." Y/n followed Kreacher through a hallway packed with paintings and fragile looking pieces of art on display. It took every ounce of will she harbored to not gasp at the sight. So many details carved in the wood, such elegancy put together in a way that made it seem a parchment from 1473 belonged right next to a modern painting of what she supposed was Orion and Walburga's wedding and above a shiny sculpture of King Arthur, slayed by Morgana (y/n slightly recalled Regulus mentioning how proud his family was of their direct ties to the notorious witch; probably why they were so obsessed, more so than even other pure blood families, to keep their lineage intact).

But as much as the hallway left its mark on y/n, the living room couldn't be compared. The walls were tapped in a vivid dark green wallpaper, with gold threads creating complicated patterns. It seemed to start somewhere in the middle, with thin lines that got thicker the wider the spiral become. And the wider the spiral, the more complex the model got. The furnitures was made of a dark brown wood, ancient, but polished to novelty. It had gold splashed in layers on the corners, drifting into the patterns on the walls carefully. A fire brisked loudly inside the brick hearth, painted with a multitude of depictive episodes from turning events in the family's history. A round cabinet waited to be approached, so many drinks sitting on it, y/n could get drunk just watching it. And right in the middle of the huge room, moonlight beaming on it through the three large, ceiling height windows, stood a low table surrounded by a green velvet sofa and two chairs of the same material and color.

"Young Mistress y/n has arrived," Kreacher announced and drift away to his spot next to the drinking cabinet.

The muggleborn's welcome was different from person to person. Regulus jumped off the couch and almost ran to her before reminding himself where he was - why and most importantly with who. So he masked his eagerness by making a show of buttoning up his dark green vest, looping a little on his feet due to a wrinkle on the carpet and only then proceed to continue his way to his girlfriend.

If the wizard could have it his way, he'd scoop y/n in his arms, claim her mouth with burning longing and desire. He was forced to adopt a more suitable approach. Regulus grabbed y/n's waist with one hand, palm resting on the small of her back. He lightly pulled her in, still too much space between them for either of their liking, and brushed his lips over her cheek. "Welcome, y/n. It's good to have you."

"Thank you." She responded, smiling, bringing her hands up to rest on his elbows as she mimicked his earlier excuse of a kiss. The muggle born could feel the adults' eyes on her, judging her every move. She became self conscious and carefully to not touch Regulus more than what was deemed as appropriate, she stepped back.

Arm still around her, Regulus led her in front of the small table. His parents rose to shake her hand and motion for Kreacher to prepare their drinks. They too wear green. Y/n started to feel like she failed a test of some sort in her cream colored dress. Even the curtains were a light shade of the Slytherin color. "Two glasses of elf-made wine, Kreacher." Orion said. Then cast a look towards the pair seated on the sofa. "What would you like?"

Y/n glanced at Regulus, movement intentionally obvious. She studied hard for this dinner, harder than she would have for exams at school. But also, she really didn't know how to answer that question. Tea or coffee wouldn't sound fancy enough, water seemed to be out of question for now and she never tasted alcohol before. "Just some rootbear would be fine. Neither of us is of age yet, after all." Both parents seemed pleased by that.

Y/n accepted the glass and took a sip, spying on Walburga and Orion from the corners of her eyes. It was in vain as they had no reaction, as always, but Regulus seemed relieved by her side. Shoulders relaxed, though his palm never left her waist, an easy smile playing on his lips. She allowed her own to bloom and grow, thinking gleefully that she and her boyfriend managed just fine so far.

"How was your trip back, y/n?"

"Good, thank you. Relaxing, which really helped after a stresfull weekend. It was over before I knew it."

"I reckon the wizarding schools' meeting was a success."

"Yes, it was. Hogwarts qualified as the best yet again."

"That is wonderful new. Congratulations!" Orion spoke and y/n looked down in fake embarrassment, muttering a soft "thank you, monsieur."

"Tell us, y/n, where from France is your family?" If Orion, as the man of the house, took vital decisions and had the final world, Walburga's duties fell under a more subtle category. Beside offering an heir to the House and properly raising him in pure blood's values, the woman also had to be the host. Maintain polite conversation as the responsible one with social life.

"The city of Dijon, madame. Or, at least there is where I spent all my childhood. My grandparents live there and my parents were always rather encouraging me to spent time with them. But I never went anywhere else, unfortunately." Y/n read that it is always better to mix truth in whit the lies. The part with her grandparents living in the town was real. And she did visit them often. But the rest had to be adjusted to sound good for the Black's ears. She could have said Paris or Lion, big or important cities both for muggle and wizarding French. She could have said Le Havre, a huge pearl for economics. But she knew neither of them as well as she knew Dijon. And it wasn't unusual for pure bloods to reside at the country side in their elder years. Nor for parents to drop by their child and see to their affair.

"Truly unfortunate, yes. Your french is impeccable, though. No hint of country accent."

"Oui, bien sûr. My parents would have never allowed anything else."

Walburga nodded in agreement. "I had my sons learn french as well, to honor our family crest, Toujours pur. Only Regulus rose to the challenge."

"His accent is indeed remarkable, madame. I wouldn't be ashamed with yours either." Next to her, Regulus choked on his drink. A veritable Slytherin his girlfriend, praising him in front of his mother and complimenting Walburga with such ease to it sounded natural. She fit right in. Maybe now she made up for not wearing green.

"Are you alright, Regulus?" No sign of concern, though a hint of disappointment and a peck of annoyance snaked in his voice. Voice matched by the look in his wife's face.

"Yes, sorry. Please, continue."

"Perhaps Regulus could take you this summer. For a special occasion maybe. French is such a romantic country after all. And its quiet country side is perfect for young married couples." Orion suggested, earning a disbelief filled glance from his wife. Y/n stilled. The sham was going a little bit to great, it seemed. On Orion. Walburga was just polite, cold stone heart showing nothing but interest in giving her more tests to prove herself worthy of her son. No, not the son, but the family. The Black name and its legacy. Its heir.

"I would actually like that, father." Regulus smiled down at y/n. The muggle born witch almost smiled back. She shifted her head in the last moment, her warm gaze now fixed on the carpet's corner and prayed that her hair would be enough to cover the lack of blushing on her cheeks, yet revealing the shy stretch of her lips. This had to win over Walburga as well!

"Dinner is ready." Kreacher's voice ringed from the door. When did he move from the cabinet?

"Thank you, Kreacher. That would be all for now."

The elf bowed and retreated. Orion rose first from his chair, extending a bent arm to his wife, who took it graciously and begin walking towards the dinning room. Even if the adults weren't looking, Regulus and y/n repeated the movement. No risk is too small to sent the whole con to shreds.

Once they were all seated, Regulus and y/n face to face on opposite sides of the table, with his parents facing each other from the two heads of the table, Walburga restarted her interrogatory.

"Y/n, I have never heard your last name in my trips to France. I admit I don't know the entirety of the wizarding nobility across the sea. Would you be kind enough to enlighten me?"

"Of course, madame Black! My lineage can be tracked to the Big Revolution, when they played a major role in creating the wizarding Ministry of today. In fact, my father committed himself to track our name even farther, hoping for Ancient times. I am sorry to say his efforts so far has been futile, but we're still hoping."

"Extraordinary. What about your mother?"

"She keeps us all from falling apart. She studied at Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons, top of her class. She comes from a ship business family, sea side beauty. Both she and my father benefitted from the marriage."

"Excellent. Truly fantastic, y/n."

Regulus searched his mother's face for any sign of lie. But Walburga meant every word. Y/n did it. She swayed over his parents. And now they thought the Black family could earn a high position in french wizarding politics and a ship business if they marry him off to her. Of course, Regulus wouldn't mind that. And he had a feeling - probably hope - y/n wouldn't either. But he had no idea how to stretch their con so far. The wizard made a note to talk to his girlfriend about all of it later before forcing his attention back to what was being talked at the table.

Now y/n chewed on the roasted duck, laid on a bed of vegetables and served with a thin sauce that smelled like it contained some wine. The silence weighted heavy on him, so Regulus took over, giving his girl a chance to rest. Lying, if it doesn't seem so, is exhausting. The mind has to work non stop, to plot constantly and keep up with the story.

"Y/n and I are very sorry we kept our relationship from you, mother. Father. We didn't know the best way to act."

"Whatever do you mean, Regulus? Did I not teach you well enough the right course of action in courting a young lady?"

"You did. But the part of seeking her parent's approval has been rather hard. With them being in France, that's it. And since that is the first step, which I couldn't follow..."

"You skipped all the others as well."

"Well, that is quite alright. It's too late now to do anything about it. Are you serious about her?"

Regulus couldn't believe his years. She asked it now? In front of y/n? But the girl seemed to have expected it, her only reaction a light tape of the paper towel over her mouth.

"Yes! Yes I am very serious about y/n, mother." Walburga just nodded and turned to the young witch.

"Do your parents know about your relations with my son?"

"Yes."

"And what do they think of it?"

"Correspondence is not the easiest, madame, but I have mentioned Regulus so many times in my letters, they feel like they know him already. And are very happy with him." The young wizard hid his smile. He actually met y/n's parents last winter. They were marvelous, indulging him with patient, even when he'd make a fool of himself from not knowing anything about muggle lives. Certainly that dinner, though not nearly as rich or sumptuous, had been by far the better. They laughed over shared stories, they'd talk over each other if there was something to add then leave the story unfinished until someone mentioned it again. But the chaos was heartful, warm. The food has been good, cooked by both y/n's mom and dad as she and Regulus helped set the table. They even had to wash the dishes later, while her parents watched TV together. And even the work has been fun. He and y/n splashed water at each other, using the towels as weapons to pinch the other in a silly game. The winner being the one who could score the most towel hits.

"Very well, then. I assume this won’t come as a surprise to you, but I should like to meet them."

Regulus and y/n locked eyes in a swift, unnoticeable panic gaze. "Meet my parents, madame Black?"

"Of course, y/n. Don't you think it's the appropriate thing to do? If Regulus has already started courting you, and you responded to his advances, my husband and I should meet your parents." Walburga said, her voice flat, dripping with dander. She casted her trap net. And the young pair answer would dismantle or set in stone the dangerous con.

"Oui, bien sûr! That would be the natural course of events. But to plan such an important meeting would be tricky."

"I'm sure you understand, mother," Regulus cut in. "Y/n parents have their schedule and you have yours. By the time y/n'a owl gets to France and back, programs will most certainly be already different."

From his silent side of the table, Orion said "The kids are right, Walburga. I know I would hate so much paperwork for something that should be delightful."

"Very well, then. We can all wait until summer, then. When y/n will talk in person to Mr. and Mrs. y/l/n and message a convenient list of dates to Regulus. Is that alright?"

"It'a a wonderful idea, my dear." Orion did sound happy with the settlement, Regulus and y/n on the other hand had to force out an enthusiast they lacked. "Yes, mother." "Perfect, madame Black."

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The dinner stretched out late into the night. Walburga and Orion insisted a fine, young lady cannot go back to Hogwarts alone. Even though Regulus offered to escort her home, his parents insisted on y/n sleeping at Grimmauld place.

So now, she stared at the night change a female house elf brought her laying on the neatly made bed. The room was bigger than her house in London's downtown. Where she actually lived with her parents after they all moved from France when she was just a baby.

The muggleborn paced around the bedroom, taking everything in, from the carefully carved details of the furniture's mahon wood, to the images depicted on the carpet (a renaissance era remake) and the heavy drapes that looped from the ceiling over the bed, matching the curtains by the window. Everything was either black or green, threaded with gold. Even the picture frames.

Speaking of, y/n noticed this room had more family photos on display: on top of the hearth, on the drawer, hanging on the wall facing the bed. She approached one and smiled at the two boys laughing as the taller one spined the younger in his arms.

"Me and Sirius, if you couldn't already tell." Regulus observed from behind, startling her.

"What the bloody hell, Regulus?" she whispered-yell.

"I'm sorry for barging in, cherié. I needed to see you - really see you" he added at her raised eyebrow. With an exaggerate sigh, y/n nodded. "I know what you mean. I hoped you'd come."

"Oh, did you, now?" The boy eyed her with a playful intensity.

The witch blushed, but laughed wholeheartedly. "Stop it, Regulus. We're in the same house with your parents."

He rolled his eyes and stepped closer, lifting her chin to his face and dropping a series of lingering kisses on her own. Y/n relaxed in his touch. Closing her eyes she allowed her body to surrender in his care, mind trailing off to content and pleasure. In a spur of burning want, she cupped his head with her palms, fingers spread to play with his hair, and kissed his mouth. "I missed you, my heart. So bloody much!"

Regulus hummed, his answer being to press their lips harder together, asking for more. That was all she waited for before parting her lips, throwing their tongues in a heated dance of love, longing and lust.

When oxygen demanded its rights over their lungs, the wizard and the witch pulled apart. Reluctantly. Before either could get carried away again, y/n asked: "there are a lot of photos in her". She breathed hard and fast and the words came out more as a hiss, but Regulus shook his head, too breathless to speak, and smiled brightly.

When he found his voice again, the pure blood informed y/n that the room used to be Sirius'. "Merlin's beard!" She exclaimed.

"No, it's fine. I didn't know he had all this pictures." There was something in his voice that pushed the muggleborn to squeeze his shoulder, urging him to accept her hug. "Really, I'm alright. Just..." Regulus trailed off, waving a hand around.

"Memories."

"Yeah."

"Which one is you?" She asked, force joy in her tone as she gracefully bounced towards one of the bigger pictures framed on the wall. The photo was black and white, two boys of the same height smiling, arms thrown around each other's necks. They both had the same expressive eyes, dimples in their crooked smiles, finely shaped jaw lines and cheekbones and soft lips.

"Shortest hair. It was taken last summer."

"What about in this one?" The girl tried to keep away from that touchy subject. She pointed a smaller frame on the drawer, a boy holding his wand up, inclined towards the sky as the other, much behind the first one, ran to keep up.

Regulus chuckled when he saw the moving photo his girlfriend stopped by. "Guess."

"Alright, this one." She showed the one running behind. Her boyfriend chuckled again. "Normally, you would be right. But that day I won't ever forget. Sirius and I bought a kite from a muggle store and we got so bored with no wind to lift it up. So I made it fly with magic. Sirius hadn't managed yet that spell, so for the first - and one of few - time, I was the one leading the game, and he was chasing after me. To my surprise, my brother didn't loose interest in the muggle toy and we'd often play with it when mother and father were away. He never bothered to learn the spell."

As Regulus spoke, a fond look covered the grey of his eyes, like a glass foil sliding over to keep tears at bay. His lips quivered in a small, tender lift upward. Y/n traced a finger over the happy boy with the wand, her own expression morphing in a deep nostalgy, a mixture of grief and glee.

"This is you as a baby?" She squacked a few moments later, when her gaze dropped to a frame depicting a three years old in a throne like chair, struggling to hold a baby in his tiny arms. The best part was the kid clearly wanted it, enjoyed it. It wasn't something ordered to him by Walburga or Orion. In fact, it seemed like something they would be pissed at.

Subtly, the young pure blood wiped tears yet to fall from his eyes and bursts in a hiccup laugh. "Yes, yes that's baby me."

"You were so adorable, my heart!"

"Stop it."

The teens allowed themselves some more seconds of merriment until they'd have to face the matter at hand. What will they do about the Blacks wanting to meet y/n's parents so soon as this summer? They might try to keep up the act, but how will they stop the rumor spreading, reaching the community of blood supremacists' ears and risking someone from Hogwarts to talk and blow it all off?

PART 2

~ can you tell I was watching Gilmore Girls when writing this

288 notes · View notes

imaginesbymonika · 3 years ago

Text

All roads they lead me here.

Part 1.

Pairing: Johnny Knoxville x fem!Reader

Plot: Johnny and Y/N were high school sweethearts, but for the last year their relationship has been gradually decomposing. And they have reached a specific limit, one where they both understand that their next big fight could be their last. On their way back home they end up getting stuck in an elevator, and while the two are waiting for rescue they have no other option than to face their past, present, and unstable and perhaps non existing future.

Warnings: sad, angsty and a tiny bit of fluff

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Listen to this while reading:

You can still recall the day of your wedding. As if it was yesterday. How he had wept when he turned around to see you in your white dress for the very first time. How you couldn't help yourself but cry with him because he confessed that he had visualized you in one since he was a teenager and to see you in it was something that crushed his heart and melted it in a matter of seconds.

Now he was sitting next to you on the sofa, a couples therapist in front of you two and you couldn't help but feel so awfully miserable.

Your hands were trembling, while you listened to him speak about how he wanted to love you so badly, but for some reason, he just couldn't do it. At least not in the same amount as he did a few years ago.

"I do love her.", he talked about you, as if you weren't in the room. Perhaps he couldn't look at you anymore, you could sense the humiliation coming out of his pores. “I really do, that’s why I want to fight for her- for us. There is no other woman out there I could imagine laying next to at night.”

It was the same thing he said during the ceremony. “I will adore and love you forever. I cannot think- that I would find somebody who I’d rather fall asleep next to.”

“Now, how does that make you feel?”, the elderly woman in front of you asked and you looked up from your hands, they suddenly felt very cold. You took a deep breath.

“Well.”, you began, but your voice fell flat. Hot tears emerge in your eyes and your hand flies up to rub the bridge of your nose. You clear your throat:” Well, I am glad that I am not the-the only one who has hope. Hope that we can still- somehow, stay together. Because I nevertheless love him as well.”

You turn to look at Johnny, who’s eyes ate fixated on his hands, which are folded in his hands. “I love you, so much.” He still doesn’t look at you, instead he reaches for your hand. Johnny simply holds it for a moment before he squeezes it, tight but gentle.

“Please. Never forget that.”

Time was something you will never completely comprehend. How can feelings change so rapidly and so fluently?

Then he shifts. And his head turns in your direction, the skin under his eyes is rosy and puffy. But the emotion in his eyes is overwhelming.

“I still love you too.”

Still. You couldn’t believe that he would ever use such a word in that sentence. And you know he couldn’t either.

#angst #x reader #fluff #imagine #jackass #johnny knoxville #jackass forever #johnny knoxville ff #johnny knoxville x reader #jackass ff #jackass imagine #jackass x reader #Spotify

60 notes · View notes

moonctzeny · 4 years ago

Text

get to you again

pairing: friends to lovers! hendery x fem!reader

genre: smut, just a tiny teeny bit angsty I guess but with a happy ending, fluff

word count: 3k

warnings: raw sex, creampie, a little corruption kink?

summary: “You wanted to lurch forward at him, tackle him onto the dusty road, and thank him by kissing every inch of his face. Hold him under the stars until you were covered with his smell, and the necklace wouldn’t be needed anymore; you could cling onto that memory instead. The urge was so strong that it made your heart physically hurt, knowing that you fell for the one person you shouldn’t have. But the heart wants what it wants, right?”

inspiration: get to you again - mac ayres

tagging the lovely: @markresonates

It had been too long since you last saw Hendery.

You two had met so unexpectedly, both trapped in a small coffee shop a couple years ago, drenched to the bone and trying to find cover from the sudden rainfall.

“I was going to ask you if you were willing to share your umbrella, but I’m guessing you forgot it on the wrong day like me”, he joked, so you decided to share a table instead. After the fourth time he had you clench your stomach in laughter, out of the sheer willingness to make a stranger like you cheer up, you decided to exchange phone numbers, thus starting what would become a beautiful friendship.

It wasn’t easy being an idol. Two promotions in Korea, then a reality show in China, then another comeback. You counted the days, one by one until he’d get to you again. Until you’d finally re-watch his favorite movie with him for the millionth time, just to get to watch him laugh over the same stupid lines.

You weren’t sure when you realized you had fallen for him. Maybe it was last winter, almost exactly a year ago when he handed you your Christmas present. He had driven you on a hill on the outskirts of Seoul, the only place he knew with some privacy from prying eyes, and the breathtaking view of the tiny city lights made the freezing cold worth it. You were both sitting against the hood of his car, admiring the big city that seemed to unravel at your feet when you opened the small velvet box.

It revealed a silver necklace of two wings hanging from a dainty chain, with his initials carved on the back of the charm. As you stared at it long enough to make sure you weren’t making things up, you couldn’t decide which one was more beautiful- the pendant or the stars in Hendery’s eyes as he waited for your reaction.

“It’s symbolic”, he started explaining, a little embarrassed with how much effort he had put into the gift, “I know I’m not around a lot to take care of you, but just know that I’m always there if you need me. Like your guardian angel”.

He sounded so wholesome while saying it, long bangs covering his eyes that bashfully avoided yours. You wanted to lurch forward at him, tackle him onto the dusty road, and thank him by kissing every inch of his face. Hold him under the stars until you were covered with his smell, and the necklace wouldn’t be needed anymore; you could cling onto that memory instead. The urge was so strong that it made your heart physically hurt, knowing that you fell for the one person you shouldn’t have. But the heart wants what it wants, right?

Tonight, it was beating as fast as the rhythm of the blinking Christmas lights decorating your living room. How could it not, with Hendery sitting only a few inches away, sharing a blanket with you? He was a few minutes late due to a last-minute photoshoot, but he arrived at your door bare faced and dressed in his favourite flannel shirt. He was just how you liked him, raw and soft and beautiful.

Unlike what you had predicted, he suggested checking out a new romantic comedy on Netflix. It was one of those that come out every Christmas season, all with the same low budget and cheesy acting that ended with some festive spirit that magically solves every plot hole. Two childhood friends, falling in love with each other, yet the girl thinks that the guy is way out of her league so she does nothing about it. The pure irony convinced you that the universe must be surely playing some sick joke on you, forcing you to look at a Hollywood version of yourself getting a happy ending for the next two hours.

“I don’t understand”, Hendery huffs in frustration, midway into the film by now, “why doesn’t the girl just tell him she likes him? What guy doesn’t want to hear that?”

“Maybe she’s scared of the rejection, or ruining everything-“ you start defending the character with a raised voice, realizing that maybe you’re invested in the movie a little too much, “sometimes there is this line between two people, and it’s comfortable to stay behind it because you don’t want to lose them in case something goes wrong”. You draw an invisible line with your index finger between your bodies, and Hendery focuses his stare on it as if it was real. He looks lost in his thoughts, still frozen in place before shaking his head and murmuring: “I guess you’re right”.

Your comment, his response, the sex scene playing on the screen. It all made you so painfully alert with his presence that your whole body tensed up and your mouth dried up like it was filled with cotton. You both chuckle in the midst of all the steaminess, as the actor fails to drag his former best friend at the edge of the bed by tagging on her ankle.

“What a loser”, Hendery scoffs mockingly at the character’s mistake, and you turn around to give him a side eyed glare.

“Relax, muscle man. Like you would do it better”

He mocks offense by opening his mouth dramatically, and you giggle at the distortion of his face that still somehow managed to look pretty. It was so cute, how he always wanted to look ‘strong’ in the eyes of others, reliable and macho. You didn’t care about any of that, you thought his resolutions were stupid. He was perfect in your eyes.

“Of course I would! I’m strong, look-“

The disaster played out in front of you like a filmstrip. His hands on your ankle, then his own ankle tripping over the blanket on the floor, and finally the feeling of his chest weighing down over your own. With him pressed so close against you, you were sure he must feel the way your heart is thumping, filled with so many emotions that it’s ready to jump out of your body.

The room was cold, but with Hendery’s sudden body heat coating you, you felt like you were on fire. The fleeting thought of you taking off your clothes, to relieve yourself of the suffocating feeling made your cheeks burn even more. Hendery’s neck was exposed just inches in front of you in it’s full glory, and you thought about where those veins on the side of it, visible through his pale skin, ended. You’d gladly kiss along the path they drew, let your teeth leave little violet blossoms on the way, while you’d make mental notes of what kisses made him react the loudest.

It’s his bangs tickling your temples that made you realize that he is still on top of you. You look up into his eyes, expecting a frantic look, maybe a string of apologies leaving his mouth. He was strangely serene, staring at your own lips instead, and for a second you thought he’d finally mercy you and give you what you daydream about every time he comes around. You’d kill for the sight of him with puffy red lips and blown out pupils, messy just for you. You’d kill for the feeling of his tongue against your own.

When he plants a kiss on your right cheek, right over the corner of your mouth, you think it tastes bittersweet. You were still high on the intimacy when he finally apologizes and rips his body away from yours, your crash back down to reality brutal. The movie was still playing on a high volume, yet all you heard was a deafening silence after his trip. You don’t object when he tells you he has to go before you get to see what happens to the couple behind the screen. They were eating you away, all the things you wanted to say to him as you sent him off, so much more than just a ‘drive safe, text me when you get home’.

Those thirty minutes after you close your front door felt like a lifetime. You replayed the accident over and over again in your head, the skin burning where he kissed you. The thoughts of calling him, telling him to turn around and finish what he started, were so loud that you felt like a crazy person.

You certainly thought you went insane when you heard a knock against your door. Peeking through the peephole, you’re surprised to see that, as if you’d unlocked the secret of manifestation, Hendery was standing once again in your hallway.

“Guanheng? Did you forget anything?”

He looked restless and fidgety as he walked back inside your apartment, like he couldn’t wait to let out whatever was on the tip of his tongue. His shoulders were coated in a light layer of snow that had managed to flush his face, and dampen his hair and eyelashes as well.

“No- well- yes, I-“. He stopped himself mid sentence and sighed, and you let him collect his thoughts. He looked serious, the expression foreign on his usually bright features, yet the way he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration made butterflies fly in your stomach. “What did you say about that line between two friends again? When we were watching the movie?”

You blinked back at him in confusion, waiting for him to tell you that he’s joking, he just forgot his charger, and he’ll see you again when his company allows him to. But he doesn’t, so you start to roll the pendant he gifted you between your thumb and index, trying to calm yourself down.

“It keeps two people that are meant to be together apart, but there is too much at stake to cross it”.

You start drawing that invisible line again, the one that separates the miserable comfort of denying your feelings for him and everything you wish you were brave enough to pursue.

He would be brave for the both of you.

Hendery grabs your lifted hand, bringing it on the side of his neck before he crashes his lips against yours. You don’t hesitate in kissing him back, hungry for his lips that taste as sweet as you imagined them to. He hasn’t realized how impossibly close to his body he has brought you, not until his embrace gets so tight that your necklace pokes uncomfortably against his chest.

You suck on his bottom lip and he welcomes you with his tongue, the kiss getting so heated now that you can’t help but tug on his hair to keep you grounded. Shivering from your action, his hands are now sliding from your hips to your waist, following the curves of your body until he reaches the underside of your breasts. You mewl against his lips as his thumbs dig into their softness, discreetly trying to cop a feel through your cotton shirt.

A moan leaves your mouth, lewd and desperate as he swallows it with a kiss, and he rips himself off of you when it seems to reach his stomach. He looks disheveled, as if he woke up from an intense, lucid dream; panting, sweating, staring at you with those big puppy eyes.

“We- we shouldn’t. We are going too fast, right?” You nod in agreement at his question but you’re not really listening. You had your fingertips placed on his moving lips, and he identifies the metallic smell as the remnants of you fidgeting with your jewelry earlier. “I should take you to dinner first, to that one place you like so much”. Losing interest in what he is saying, the words being too distant and grey when he stood so deliciously in front of you, you mindlessly start to unbutton his shirt, fascinated with that mole over his collarbone and wanting to see more.

The fire your fingers spread against his skin, in the midst of the chilliness of your living room has him groaning under his breath, with a voice as low and sexy as in his good morning calls. You can practically see him throw all his inhibitions out the window when he kisses you again, pushing you with his body until your back finds the nearest wall. Hendery’s hands are far from gentle now, leaving bruises behind all the soft spots he kneads with his fingers.

“I want you”, you confess with a whisper as you rid him off his flannel for good, and you can’t stop yourself from tracing all the lines of his toned abdomen. You can feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest, its fast rhythm matching yours. You grab his hand to lead him to the carpet next to the Christmas tree that is blinking along with the lights that adorn it- you’re too impatient in your arousal to take him to your bedroom and he doesn’t protest.

Hendery lays you on your back, finding his place between your legs as you wrap them around his waist to bring him closer. You remove your hoodie and the sports bra you had on, his lips immediately latching onto one of your nipples. He circles his tongue around the bud, licking and sucking on it interchangeably until you’re a begging mess underneath him.

Tugging on the elastic band of his sweats, you urge him to get naked for you completely, and he removes the extra garments with a strong pull. His sex bouces out of its cotton constraint, red and throbbing and aching for you. It makes the heat that’s pooling on your lower stomach spread even further, and you wiggle your hips to remove your sweatpants as well.

There’s something about the frilly pink panties you’re wearing- the innocent design on your shapely body that ignites a carnal instinct in him. He wants to ruin you, mark you, make you his. The sound of fabric getting ripped has your eyes bulge out in shock. You’ve never seen Hendery so determined.

He falls on top of you again, leaving urgent kisses on your jawline as he rubs his hard member against your heat. It’s driving you insane, how he’s so close to where you want him but not quite there yet, and you tug his hair again to make him look at you.

“I wanna feel you raw”

And raw was how he’d give it to you. You feel his warm hand over your stomach, keeping you in place as he aligns himself with your entrance, and the pressure his tip’s already feeling has him cursing out.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this”

He dips himself slowly into your pussy, careful not to stretch you uncomfortably much. His worried eyes are glued to your wide ones, reading your expressions to ensure they’re those of pleasure. And indeed they are, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he bottoms out fully, a symphony of both your moans filling the room.

He starts out with a steady rhythm, your pussy adjusting to his size with every calculated thrust. You’re getting drunk with the intimacy, with his smell that sticks to your skin and the sweet nothings he whispers in your ear. You feel addicted to it already, to the feeling of having him be a part of you, and as his growing desperation has him picking up his pace, yours makes you wish you could live in that moment forever.

“I don’t think I’ll last much longer”

”Neither do I”

He can tell how close you are, your heaving chest and guttural sounds giving you away. His cold fingers find your clit then, rubbing your sensitivity in messy circles and pumping more blood to the area.

“Yes, baby. Let go for me”

Little stars of various colors dance around in your vision, framing the sight of Hendery fucking into you so beautifully. You enjoy the hypersensitivity that the continuing motion of his hips gives you, locking your legs around his waist as his thrusts turn sloppy.

“Come inside me”

Just those simple words, slipping out of your pretty mouth are enough to send him over the edge, grunting as he paints your walls in ropes of white. You feel him twitching inside you for a good while, your belly bulging in fullness. It drips out of you slowly when he finally gets off of you, his hands spreading your thighs apart so that he can admire his creation.

He chuckles in disbelief of what you two just did, removing a piece of fake snow that somehow landed on your hair. You can only admire the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down, all the little curves and shadows on his neck, his smile that gives you tunnel vision.

“All this time…”, he whispers softly, “you liked me too?”

You silently winced at the naiveness of his words, knowing damn well your feelings ran way deeper than a simple attraction. Nodding affirmatively, you avoid looking at his eyes by pretending to play with his fingers. You can’t let him see the way they have glossed up, yet the numbing feeling of disappointment is getting hard to ignore.

He doesn’t let you distance yourself from him further, lifting your chin up so you can make eye contact with him again. To your surprise, he looks way more nervous than you, subconsciously nibbling on his lower lip. He takes a deep breath, mustering up some courage before verbally letting his thoughts out of his chest.

“What if I told you I am in love with you?”

You were shocked at the confession, so much so that this reality seemed like a figment of your subconscious mind. You expected to wake up at any moment, to find yourself asleep on your couch, two feet away from him and still stuck in the sucky friendzone. But that moment never came, no matter how long you held your breath to trigger your awakening, and you let it go with a sigh and a blurb of your own thoughts.

“I’d ask you to be mine”

#hendery #wayv #neosmutcollective #neowritingsnet #hendery smut #wayv smut #nct smut #wayv scenarios #hendery scenarios #hendery imagines #hendery fanfic #wayv fanfic #hendery fluff #hendery angst #wayv hendery #hendery x reader #wong kunhang #huang guanheng

894 notes · View notes

honeytae · 3 years ago

Note

Hi!! Idk if you’re taking requests or not, but I was hoping I could request something along the lines of where you’re in love with your best friend, taehyung, but he doesn’t know and he’s getting married soon. you don’t tell him how you feel until the night of his wedding when you’re a bit tipsy from drinking your feelings away. you can decide the ending! thank you in advance if you end up writing this! hope you’re doing well and staying safe. Xx

hi darling! i’m so sorry this took so long for me to write. i couldn’t get it to a point where i was satisfied with it for a really long time, i still don’t feel that good about it honestly but hopefully it’s okay for you!!! i tried to make it angsty (yikes) so hopefully it’s not horrible lmao

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters

genre: angst

word count: 1.6k

warnings: um so much heartbreak, oc is a little (very) in denial about the situation and comes off a little toxic tbh, requited love but nothing they can do about it now, mentions of tae going into a panic attack

You couldn’t handle it.

You couldn’t handle the ‘congratulations to the happy couple,’ nor the Mr. and Mrs. Kim sign practically floating over their heads. You couldn’t handle the copious bouquets and all the preparations that went into this.

And you felt like a complete asshole about it.

Which is precisely why you decided to prematurely exit the event, doing yourself and everyone else a favor by leaving for the night to go sulk in your hotel by your lonesome.

The elevator ride up to your floor was miserable, your own battles within your mind coupled with the fact that your floor was the top one, making the ride excruciatingly long on top of everything else.

Rustling with the hotel key in your bag seemed to take forever as well, finally barging into your half unpacked space with a sigh. You quickly shut the door behind you, hoping you’d been able to sneak away from the hotel lobby without any guests noticing.

Shuffling further into the room, you sat on the edge of the king bed in the center of the room, placing your head in your hands at the mere prospect of this weekend.

Taehyung was getting married. Kim Taehyung, your best friend, the one person you’d been pining for since middle school, would be legally bound to someone else in less than twenty four hours.

Maybe you just shouldn’t have come. Despite sending red flags to Tae, you couldn’t think of a better solution than fleeing at this exact moment. Why did you think you could handle this?

Two knocks against the locked door had your head raising from its resting place, cursing under your breath at someone coming after you.

You didn’t feel well. That would be your excuse.

“Hey, you okay?” Immediately upon opening the door, Taehyung spoke the question out into the air, dark eyebrows knit in concern and kind eyes imploring yours for an answer.

“Hi. I’m fine, just a little tired, Tae.” You pressed your lips together in a hopefully believable smile, the man frowning before nodding at you.

“Me too. Can I come in?” He asked, the question completely innocent however making your heart rate a bit faster at the what if. What if things had gone differently? What if it was still a possibility for things to escalate between you two?

Cut it out. He’s about to be a married man.

You raised your eyebrows at him for a moment, then stepped back to allow him in, putting all your concentration on shutting the wood for a moment as you took a steadying breath.

“What about your party?” You wondered aloud, the man humming as he took a seat on your fully made bed.

“I’m tired of the parties. They’re exhausting.” He chuckled, covering his face with his hands as he reclined back on your bed.

Your heart skipped another beat at the vision, his tight pants leaving little to the imagination and buttons from his dress shirt stretched to new limits with his strained position. Diverting your eyes, you walked over to the desk chair in the corner of your room, reaching for a water bottle out of your mini fridge. Get a fucking grip.

Tossing one over to the bed beside Taehyung, you sat down in the plush seat, grateful that the man didn’t seem to notice your distance from him as you glanced out the window.

Until….

“Are you really okay? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me lately.”

At his sudden words, you froze, gripping your water a bit tighter as you brought your eyes back to his face. He was closer now than before, having scooted to the edge of your bed to lean toward you, eyes showing concern for you as you shuffled in your seat.

Taehyung was never one to beat around the bush, and at times like this, you really wish he would just brush some things under the rug as easy as you could.

“I’m good, Tae. Just have a lot going on, I guess. I’m sorry I made you feel like that.” You said, hoping to clear the air and dismiss the topic as soon as you possibly could. The man’s stare wasn’t helping your state any.

“No apologies. Just wanted to check in on you.” He sighed, seemingly disappointed with your lack of response before a hideous painting across the room caught his eye.

“What the fuck is that?” He griped, making you chuckle as he sat up to lean toward the art piece, squinting with his lip curled in amusement.

“It’s not so bad.” You shrugged, smirking when he turned back to you in bewilderment. Realizing you were teasing him, his eyes went back to normal size, a smile meeting his own lips at the return of your familiar banter.

“How can you sleep in a room with that shit? I feel like asking for a refund.” He shook his head, making you laugh before taking a swig from your water.

“Somehow I manage.” You replied, twisting the cap back on the bottle with a sigh.

It’s times like these that you feel as though nothing is wrong. Times like these that transport you back to periods of your life when Taehyung was just a call away, and you thought maybe, just maybe, you two had a chance. But that was over now. Those days were no more.

Because Taehyung informing you about a blind date then turned into him in a full blown relationship, a serious one at that, and soon enough they were taking big steps such as meeting the parents, moving in together, and yes, getting engaged.

Your friends had been just as shocked as you were, pitying you with deep sympathetic looks over Taehyungs shoulder as you hugged him in confused congratulations. It had all happened so fast...how did you manage to lose him forever?

Waking up the next day, you felt a particular heaviness on your chest. It was the day before the wedding, the rehearsal dinner turned into an entire day of partying for their guests. A celebratory day, if anything.

But waking up and getting all dolled up for this occasion was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, today or ever. You had always thought that you’d have much more of a starring role in Kim Taehyung’s life. Shaking your head to dismiss those kinds of thoughts, you cursed as you left your hotel room, wondering how the hell you’d be getting through this day.

Four martinis. Four martinis was how you’d be getting through today. The bartender had become one of your closest acquaintances over the past few hours, eyeballing you silently as he poured you yet another cocktail, your demands obvious that you were not drinking out of celebration.

Sitting at the bar, you contemplated everything. From the time you’d met Tae, you had been so sure that you two completed each other. Were you that naive? And fuck, why are you still thinking about this now? It’s over. You and Tae will never be.

Nearly jumping off your stool at a hand suddenly clapping your back, you shifted your gaze over to the arm belonging to Jungkook, one of Taehyung’s youngest yet wisest friends.

“You’re sulking.” He said plainly, dark eyes tracing over your faded features, briefly examining the drink in your hand before shooting the bartender a knowing look.

“You shouldn’t be out here.” You sighed, nearly breaking into a sob when his hand laid over yours, fingers fitting between your own in a comforting gesture. With one glance at the man, you gained all the information you didn’t want.

He knew.

You wondered how long he’d known. Jungkook, being the quiet and relatively introverted person he was, was an observer. He knew everything about everyone it seemed, by not speaking to them at all. He noticed everything.

You just hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes started blinking rapidly, and that he’d instead just go back into the party without another word.

“Neither should you.” He replied to you, his tone holding nothing but concern as he tried to catch your eyes.

You just couldn’t hold it in.

“Well maybe if I wasn’t in love with him I’d be having a better time.” You mumbled, leaning your head down on your hands, elbows pressed to the tops of your thighs, sad and tired as Jungkook froze beside you.

Unbeknownst to you, a concerned Taehyung had also come to find you, stumbling upon that very scene as Jungkook tried to console you.

Meeting eyes with his older friend, Jungkook’s mouth gaped open for a moment, opening and closing like a fish out of water as you cluelessly rambled under your breath about how stupid you were to ever let yourself come here.

With a shaky exhale, Taehyung silently began to put it all together. The way you’d been working constantly lately, picking up every shift you could to decline his repeated attempts at getting together with you, the way you’d ran off last night and brushed it off as you being too tired. It was all adding up.

You were struggling with this as much as he was. Maybe more.

But what Taehyung could do about this years ago was no longer an option, his hands shaking at his sides as he spun on his heel and walked out of the lobby. He could briefly hear Jungkook call for him but ignored it, breathing heavily as he rounded one of the hallways leading to the restrooms.

Unshed tears misted over his eyes as he hugged a corner of the wall, feeling rather unsteady as he leaned his forehead against the cool surface. The burning pain in his chest had him sinking down to the floor in an instant, sobs wracking his shoulders with heightening emotions rising in his throat.

You’d finally given him the green light. And it was too fucking late.

#bts fanfiction #bts member x reader #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts angst #bts reader insert #kim taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung imagines #kim taehyung angst #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung x reader #taehyung imagines #taehyung angst #writing #fanfiction #angst #x reader #reader insert

153 notes · View notes

fallen-gravity · 3 years ago

Text

our hearts are heavy burdens

The Ghost Council learns the truth about Scratch and his relationship with Molly, and sends him away as punishment.

Scratch isn't willing to let go that easy.

Notes:

I'd love to give a huge shout out to Mollycord for inspiring me to write this! I've had an absolute blast the past couple nights plotting angst with you guys, and I consider this to be something of a gift to everyone who heard me out on my angsty ramblings.

I hope you enjoy! >:)

AO3

The Ghost Council rarely summons a ghost for no reason.

Maybe to the recently deceased, it seems like they call upon them all the time. It may seem erratic, and out of nowhere, and quite poorly planned on their behalf, since they always seem to summon them when they’re busy with some time-sensitive task. It seems random, and unfair, and as though they never have any rhyme or reason as to when or why they decide it’s an important time to talk.

Not to the experienced ghost, though. The experienced ghosts who've been dealing with them for years know that they’re very particular with their reasoning, and none of them are ever good. They’re either about to ridicule you for the numbers on your scare report, banish you to the Flow as punishment for some awful crime you weren’t even aware you committed, or both.

Scratch knows this better than any ghost. Thankfully, there’s always been something preventing his banishment, usually at the last moment, but it doesn’t make being summoned to the ghost realm against his will any less terrifying.

In fact, he’d almost say that this time around is even more terrifying than all the rest, because he knows he triple checked his scare report before he turned it in. After that close call with the Sart Duan Sib fiasco, he silently vowed to himself that he’d do his best to never be that careless with the Ghost Council again.

Especially not after seeing the look on Molly’s face when he said he could be taken away. He never wants to see that look on Molly’s face again.

So if there’s nothing wrong with his scare report, that could only mean that they brought him here for one thing, and-

“Scratch,” the green ghost sitting at the center of the Council begins, interrupting his thoughts. “Do you have any idea why we’ve called you here today?”

He honestly and truly doesn’t, but he knows if he says that then they’re just going to get angrier.

“Uhh…is it because you found an inconsistency with my report?” He squeaks, twiddling with his thumbs as sweat drips down his forehead. “Oh, boo, that’s too bad, if you could just point it out to me real quick so I can just…take it and go and stop wasting your time, I can get right into fixing it, promise, I’ll even throw a few more scares in there for good measure, just in case I have any accidental repeats, or-”

“That’s enough, Scratch” the purple ghost sitting on the far left interjects. “Don’t play dumb with us. You know exactly why we called you here”

“I do?” Scratch replies, his voice jumping up a number of octaves in the process. “B-because, you know, my memory is awful, just the absolute worst, and it would really help if I received a reminder as to-”

“Scratch, what’s the most important rule of being a ghost?” The purple council member interjects again, not even taking the time to listen to what he has to say.

Scratch swallows hard. “K-Keep your assigned town as miserable as possible?”

Apparently, that was not the response they wanted. All four council members and the Chairman squint suspiciously at him in response.

“What’s the other most important rule of being a ghost?”

Scratch sighs, his entire body drooping downward. “Nobefriendinghumans,” he mutters, just barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I couldn’t quite make it out”

“...No befriending humans”

“That’s right!” the council member beams eerily, clapping her hands together. “And we have intel that you’ve been lying about your relationship with a very particular human”

If Scratch’s heart could still beat, he knows it would be slamming against his chest. “Wh-what? C’mon, pssh…you know me, I hate everyone and everyone hates me. Simple as that”

The council members exchange glances, and they all collectively nod before collectively flashing sharp, dangerous grins in his direction.

“Oh, then I suppose you wouldn’t care in the least if something bad were to happen to…Molly, then, would you?”

Okay, if Scratch’s chest could still beat it would be bursting out of his chest completely. His mouth opens and speaks before he has time to stop himself.

“H-How do you know her name?”

“Oh, would you look at that?” the green council member clasps his hands together with glee. “You do care about her. Befriending a human and lying directly to the Ghost Council? My, my, Scratch, aren’t you having a field day with breaking our sacred laws today?”

Behind the council, the Chairman slowly begins to rise from his chair, and Scratch slowly begins to back away from the council. “N-No, wait! Y-you don’t understand! We-we’re not friends! She’s the one whose family moved into my house, remember? I- I only know her name because I’ve been trying to scare her out of it!”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Scratch” the green council member shakes his head. “If that were the case, then why were we able to gather evidence of you calling yourself a…what’s it called….a McGee?”

Scratch freezes. He knows that either way he argues, it’s not going to look good for him. He opens his mouth to try and come up with a last-minute argument, but no sound comes out.

“Oh, well” the councilman hums, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “I guess you’ll have all eternity to think about what you’ve done” he turns around and gives a silent nod to the Chairman, whose giant boney hand morphs into a thumbs-down position, summoning the Flow of Failed Phantoms above his head.

“W-wait!” Scratch pleads, looking all around the ghost realm for some sort of answer as he finds himself slowly getting dragged into the Flow. There’s nothing around to help, and in a blind moment of panic, Scratch can only find himself scrunching his eyes closed and blurting out the honest truth.

“She needs me!”

Silence.

Even the Flow itself seems to have stopped making noise, and when Scratch finally finds the courage to open his eyes again, he notices that all four of the council members are staring deep into his soul. For the briefest of moments, he’s convinced that he somehow got through to them, but the relief is extremely short lived when they all start laughing hysterically like he just told him the funniest joke they’ve heard all week.

“The human needs you?” The purple ghost on the far left wheezes out in between fits of unhinged laughter. “Oh, please! This is the most pathetic excuse we’ve ever heard!”

“She does!” Scratch throws his arms into the air. “She needs me! She’d be a wreck without me!”

“She’s a human,” the council member continues. “The last thing she needs is a pathetic waste of ectoplasm breathing down her neck all the time. What she needs is other humans. She needs to be with people of her own kind who can actually provide something useful for her. It’s why humans are always gathering in groups anyway, isn’t it?”

“That…That’s not true!” Scratch shouts back, his voice suddenly wavering. “She chooses to be with me! She tells me I’m her best friend any chance she gets!”

“Are you quite sure she’s not just saying that to keep you complacent? That she knows how insufferable you would be if she didn’t have to constantly spare your feelings?”

N-no.

Molly would never.

He starts tugging at his hair. “She wouldn’t! She cares about me! She…she needs me!” He pulls harder, and harder, not at all missing the anxiety in his stomach churning and slowly becoming something much, much darker.

“Oh, well,” the councilman sighs, seemingly not even paying attention. “I guess we’ll never know,” he says, and snaps his fingers to summon the Flow again. This time the pull on Scratch is just a bit stronger, and pulling him in just a bit faster, but he still fights with everything that he has.

“No! Molly!” he screeches, his vision starting to grow all spotty. “Molly! She…she needs…I….I need…”

He barely has time to notice the Flow disappearing behind him, or the council members suddenly staring at him with horror, or even the portal to the living realm opening beneath his feet.

“MOLLY!” He howls at the top of his lungs, and then everything goes black.

~~~

Molly hasn’t seen Scratch all day.

Sure, she knows that he likes to have his alone time every now and then, but she knows he can usually be bribed out of it with food, and nothing she’s tried placing in front of his little offering house or even simply mentioned has been enough to drag him out. She’s tried looking in every single little window she can find, and knocking on every little door she can access, but there’s no sign of her ghostly friend anywhere.

“Scratch?” she calls, cupping her hands over her mouth in case he’s just taking a nap, or he can’t hear her, or something like that. But even after a whole minute of waiting, there’s no sign of Scratch getting sucked out of his little house, or from any of the other rooms in her house, for that matter.

She frowns, tapping her foot at the ground and looking at the nonexistent watch on her wrist. She may pride herself on being super patient and collected at like, all times, but there’s gotta be something going on if summoning him isn’t working, either.

“Scratch?” she calls again, louder this time. She plops down on her bed, but even after what feels like ages, there’s still no sign of her friend anywhere.

He’s not…upset at her for some reason, is he? She racks her brain trying to figure out why that could possibly be, but…no, even if he were upset at her, it wouldn’t cancel out her summoning, he’d just be…grumpy that she summoned him.

Groaning, she throws her head down on her pillow, and stares up at the ceiling trying to figure out what could possibly be going on. Even if by some crazy chance that Scratch figured out how to break their curse, and that’s why summoning him isn’t working anymore, he’d at least have told her that, and even that wouldn’t really explain why she doesn’t have a clue where he is, because this is still technically their shared room in their shared house.

Before she even has enough time to even think too much about it, though, something cold and wet drips on her forehead from above her, and she bolts upward to scrub it off.

“Ugh, stupid old leaks from stupid old houses” she grumbles, but her heart instantaneously leaps to her chest the moment she catches glimpse of the substance on her fingers.

Ectoplasm.

She eagerly lies back down in her bed, heart beating out of her chest to look for the source of the drip. There’s still no sign of Scratch anywhere above her, but she does see a big splat of ectoplasm on the wall beside his cobweb hammock, which Molly supposes is a good enough start.

She sighs in relief, and racks her brain to try and think about why he’d even leave any ectoplasm on the wall to begin with. She knows he’s well past trying to scare her awake in the middle of the night anymore, and the last time he’s ever accidentally left ectoplasm somewhere he didn’t want it to be is when he was summoned away to the ghost realm, and he didn’t want to go, so he grabbed onto the wall with all of his might to try and stop it from happening, but-

Oh.

Oh no.

She jumps to her feet.

Molly, if they find out I’m friends with a human they’re going to take me away from you forever!

There’s…there’s no way, right?

There’s no way they found out, is there? She was so sure that they were being so careful, that they were doing the absolute best they could to prevent it from happening, that she had all the right preparations in case they needed to fight, and-

No. She shakes her head. She refuses to believe he’s gone for good. She knows Scratch would be willing to fight harder than defeated acceptance. She knows that he’s just as willing to fight back as she is.

He was probably just…summoned for his scare report check in, right? And her summoning didn’t work because he was on his way back through the portal home, and summoning him doesn’t work when he’s between realms, right?

In any case, Molly can’t just sit around and quietly accept his absence, either. She opens the drawer of the nightstand behind her bed and pulls out a flashlight and a half-eaten bag of shrimp-flavored chips, and messily shoves them both in the pockets of her vest. She’s going to go look for him, and she doesn’t care if it takes until well past nightfall to find him.

She opens the hatch door that leads her out of the attic, and rushes down the steps as quickly as she reasonably can. She waves a quick goodbye to her parents in the living room and heads for the back door, but just as she reaches for the doorknob to leave there’s a loud bang coming from somewhere downstairs.

“What was that?” Molly’s mother asks, rising from her seat on the couch.

Her dad scratches at his chin. “I dunno, it sounded like a wild animal. Do you think we should call someone?”

…Wait.

WAIT.

“Dad, don’t you dare!” Molly practically screeches, and frantically sprints for the door leading to the basement. She flings the door open, clicks her flashlight on, and sprints down the stairs as fast as her legs can carry her without stumbling down them.

With a shaking hand, she flashes the light around the basement looking for the source of the noise, and the moment she flashes her light on…something is the moment she realizes that whatever it is, it’s making noises; the soft, desperate choking of someone who’s crying. She squints at it, and when she realizes that her light is flashing on something blue, a gasp escapes her throat.

“Scratch!” Molly beams, and scrambles around the dark room until she finds the light switch to turn the lights on. She clicks the light on as fast as her trembling hands can handle, but when she turns back towards Scratch to dive on him and give him the biggest hug she can, she ends up dropping the flashlight tucked under her arm in shock.

That’s definitely Scratch curled up in the corner, alright, but there’s something…off about him. For starters, he’s twice as large in size, he looks all jagged in places where he usually looks…wobbly, his ectoplasm is actually closer to a deeper purple, rather than its usual sky blue, and there’s bits and pieces of him dripping to the floor like wet paint.

“Scratch?” she tries again, calmer this time, and Scratch turns to look in the general direction she’s standing in. He’s not looking directly at her, more like straight through her, but Molly can see the tear streaks running down his cheeks clear as day. There’s something hauntingly…familiar about his appearance, but Molly can’t quite place why until he opens his mouth.

“I-I need…” is all he manages, his voice distorting so much that Molly hardly recognizes it. Once she realizes why it all feels so familiar, she gasps, and slides to her knees and crawls to his side.

He’s corrupted, just like Howlin’ Harriet was.

That would explain why summoning him wasn’t working earlier. Something terrible must’ve happened to him when he was summoned to the Ghost Council that scared him so bad it caused his mind to corrupt, and he won’t be able to come back down from it until he gets whatever it is his broken mind thinks he needs.

“C’mon, buddy, spit it out” Molly gently encourages him, patting him on the side. “What do you need?”

Molly learns very quickly that touching him while he’s like this is a big mistake. He lashes out at her friendly gesture, leaving a number of deep scratches along her arm. Molly winces when she pokes at them to inspect them, but she still sighs and scoots backwards to give him some space.

“Right, right, sorry” she rubs awkwardly at the back of her head. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Just tell me what you need so I can help you”

As if in response to her words, Scratch starts desperately looking around the room for something, whimpering like a lost puppy when he can’t seem to find it.

“I...I need…” he starts, his voice breaking as tears pour uncontrollably from his eyes. It hurts Molly’s heart that she can’t just grab him and hug him and make everything better, but she knows things will probably go over smoother if she lets him figure some of it out on his own.

“Need…” he starts, and then visibly sighs. “M-Molly…” he moans, and it’s as if hearing her name on his tongue just has him panicking even more, because he starts hyperventilating the moment it leaves his mouth.

That’s…not what Molly was expecting at all. “Scratch? It-It’s okay Scratch, I’m right here,” she whispers, and tries to reach out for him, but the moment she tries to get even remotely close to him he lashes out at her again. She frowns, and scoots backwards again.

What was it that worked last time? Giving Harriet exactly what she wanted? Maybe that worked for her, since they were able to just make fake toes out of crafting supplies and leave them out for her to take, but how is she supposed to give Scratch…herself? She racks her brain trying to think of something, like maybe she could give him one of her old vests, or a hair tie she never uses anymore, or an old stuffed animal of hers, but…no, that still doesn’t solve the problem of giving them to Scratch, since he still doesn’t seem to want anyone coming close to him.

Think, Molly, think… she knocks on her forehead, trying to think of something that’ll work, when-

It hits her.

Scratch was with the Ghost Council before all this mess happened, wasn’t he? And he’d just been worrying about being taken away from her, right? If the last thing he remembers before his mind got all warped was talking to the council, and the council was threatening to send him to the Flow of Failed Phantoms, as he’d called it, and the thing he needs is her, then-

She rushes forward and wraps her arms around him in the tightest hug she’s ever given anyone in her entire life. “It’s okay, Scratch” she whispers, crawling ever closer to him still. “It’s okay. It’s Molly. I’m right here”

For the briefest of moments he freezes at the sound of her voice, but he’s back to panicking just as quickly. He’s trying to squirm his way out of her grasp, screeching and digging his clawed hands into her skin in an attempt to get her to stop. She simply shakes her head no, and each time he squirms or each time he claws at her arms, she only hugs tighter. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispers, and squeezes her promise into her hug.

“But I’m not letting go, either, Scratch. I promise. I’ll never let you go”

~~~

Someone’s trying to wrap their arms around him.

He doesn’t know where he is, or who this person thinks they are, but they better let go of him right now if they value their own life.

They’re trying to speak to him, but he’s not listening. Their voice sounds like Molly’s, but that’s not possible, since they took him away from Molly, they laughed in his face about Molly, they told him Molly didn’t care, and he’s not sure how much longer he can handle these cruel games.

The last thing he remembers is being sentenced to the Flow, and Molly, and being told he’ll never see her again, and being told she’s better off without him, and Molly, and Molly, and Molly, and if whoever this wise guy thinks they are, using the sound of Molly’s voice against him, they’ve got another thing coming.

He lashes out, but their grip on him only strengthens. It’s driving him up the wall, because they even hug like Molly, but it can’t be Molly, he knows it can’t, because he was taken away and he doesn’t remember where he was taken but he’s sure this is torture, he’s certain the pain and agony gripping at his undead heart is because the council members are torturing him with the spitting image of the only person he’s ever loved, of Molly, whose name will not stop repeating itself in his head, whose name hurts on his tongue when he speaks, of Molly, Molly, Molly, Molly, over and over again.

This…apparition, this…illusion of Molly just keeps talking, and keeps tightening her hug, but it’s not real, it isn’t, it can’t be, because he was torn away from her and he needs her, her needs her more than anything, he’s terrified and alone and someone is playing tricks on his mind, and the only person whose ever been able to pull him from that ledge is Molly, and she’s-

~~~

Molly pulls away from the hug.

She didn’t think she would have to resort to this, but if hugs aren’t working than it’s clearly the only option she’s got left.

She shakes her arms, both to relieve the sting from all the scratches he’d left on her arms and to remove the excess ectoplasm from them, and she stands to allow herself to be at eye level with the larger-than-usual Scratch.

She grabs him by what she assumes are his shoulders, pulls him into the gentlest, most delicate hug she’s ever given anyone, as if to avoid fracturing him to pieces, and whispers four simple words to him.

“I love you, Scratch” the voice speaking to him suddenly whispers, and it’s so fragile, and so gentle and delicate and…genuine, that something inside of him snaps. There’s something so…caring, and kind, and so…Molly-like to the voice, that it eases the tense feeling of pain and agony gripping his heart and clears the storm clouds in his head.

Instantaneously, he feels as though the weight of the world is coming off of his shoulders, both figuratively and literally. He forces an eye open, not even realizing that he’d been forcing them shut from fear, and words cannot even begin to explain the amount of relief he feels when he sees he’s somewhere in the basement of the McGee family household.

He’s also just now realizing that there’s still a pair of arms wrapped gently around him, and a choked sob escapes his throat when he glances downwards and recognizes them belonging to Molly.

I love you, Scratch

She…

She loves him?

Molly McGee, the only person he’s ever opened up to, the only person he’s ever loved, the only person willing to give him the time of day, the one person he needs more than anything in the whole world?

She honest and truly loves him, even after seeing him like that?

I love you, Scratch

The words bounce around in his head like the old pinball machine at the arcade he’d possessed once for a scare, like an old fashioned computer screen saver, just bounce bounce bounce bouncing around in his mind without any sign of stopping.

Molly loves him.

His arms act before he can process his actions, and he winds his arms around her to cautiously return her hug. There’s all kinds of cuts and small gashes running up and down her arms, and he doesn’t even want to think about how she probably got those for even a second. He shakes that thought off with a shake of his head, but the moment he makes physical contact with her, Molly sucks in a loud gasp, and Scratch quickly pulls himself away. He’s about to apologize profusely for...well, everything, but before he can get a single word out she grabs him again and yanks him into a super tight hug.

“Scratch! You’re okay!” she squeals, and though Scratch can’t see her face he can practically hear the smile splitting her face in two. “I just knew you’d be okay!”

Scratch feels like laughing himself to tears. He can feel it bubbling in his chest, but the last thing he wants to do right now is anything that could potentially upset her, so he swallows his pride and just wraps the full extent of his arms around her, just tangles her up in a big ol mess of goop and ectoplasm, and returns her hug so tightly that her legs momentarily leave the ground.

“Well, yeah, Of course I am,” he tries for calm and collected, but the waver in his voice gives him straight away. “I, uh, I love you too, Moll”

She squeaks in response, attempting to wriggle out of his mass of arms so she can hug him back equally tightly, and the whole thing is just a big mess of tangled limbs and unspoken unconditional love. They stay like that for a few brief moments of deafening silence, and when Molly’s finally able to untangle herself from all that mess she’s smiling brighter than Scratch has ever seen before.

It’s incredibly contagious, and he can’t help but offer her a smile in return, but…

He still feels pretty awful for scratching up her arms.

As much as he’d hate to ruin the moment, he knows that it’s gonna bother him for the rest of his afterlife if he just up and decided to never bring it up again.

“Hey, uh, Moll…?” he starts, but can’t quite find the right way to phrase the apology.

Molly must have some weird power that lets her know exactly what he’s thinking, though, because her gaze falls to the gashes on her arms the moments his voice trails off. “Oh, these?” she shakes her head. “You don’t have to apologize, Scratch”

He frowns. “But-”

“No buts!” she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. “I mean, yeah, these are probably gonna sting like crazy for the next few days, but I made a promise to you, and all I see when I look at these is my word of honor that I’ll never break that promise”

Scratch doesn’t really like that answer, because he knows he still hurt her, and it almost sounds as if she’s prioritizing his feelings over her own, but she continues on before he can interject.

“I promised that I would never let you go. Even when you might hurt me, I just know that deep down you care a lot about me too, and I can always heal from it, and that’s the most important thing in the world to me”

She wraps an arm around him in a side-hug, as if in demonstration. “I’ve never had someone I could say was always there for me. Mom and Dad and Darryl are great, sure, but we move around an awful lot, and it’s been…hard for me to accept having friends who will stay my friends for the long run, so…” she trails off. “...I know how it feels. I really do hope I can be that person for you, Scratch, because I really do love you.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t just say that because I thought that’s what you wanted to hear.” She pats at her chest, a soft smile spreading to her face. “I Molly McGee guarantee it.”

For the briefest of moments all Scratch can do is stare.

Of all the humans in the world to eternally bind himself to, and he happened to choose the only one in the world who’s actually capable of caring for people like him.

He returns her side hug by wrapping an arm around her, too.

“You too, Moll,” he replies. “I Molly McGee guarantee that I love you too”

#my writing #tgamm #the ghost and molly mcgee #molly mcgee #scratch the ghost #molly and scratch #I'm a puddle on the floor I stg

29 notes · View notes

legolasbadass · 3 years ago

Text

A Lifetime Apart [1/3]

Artwork by the lovely @gwen-ever

Relationship: Thorin x OC

Summary: Thorin meets his One while still a young prince in Erebor, but their lives are torn apart by their families and the arrival of Smaug.

Based on Alice Tynan’s interview with Richard Armitage in ‘The Vine,’ this fic was inspired by @gwen-ever’s wonderful art for the @tolkienrsb 2021!

Warnings: Angst. Seriously guys, this is really angsty, get your tissues ready. (gwen and I are not sorry lol)

Rating: T

As always, the fic can be read on AO3.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

There is a room in Erebor, a secret place where once their love bloomed in peace. All the memories of that place, where he held her and worshipped her with his lips, were forever engraved in his mind. It was there that, after months of struggling with his feelings, he had realized she was his One.

All Dwarves know that Mahal sometimes creates two of his children from the same stone, bonding them for life. Of course, not all Dwarves marry. Even those granted this honour by their Maker do not always choose to marry, for some value friendship above all other bonds, while others devote themselves to their craft. Still, as a young boy, Thorin had hoped Mahal would deem him worthy, and every night he had dreamt of the moment he would meet his One, conjuring their likeness like an artist who paints a picture and gives it life.

He had also wondered what it would feel like to meet his One. Would he know immediately? And how would he know? Perhaps it would be like in those romance novels his sister liked so much. A tender, all-consuming look from across the room, silently reassuring the other that they had found each other at last.

Perhaps due to long hours in the council chamber, Thorin had become more of a realist as the years went on. He always had to be on his guard, and he learned quickly that he could not trust his desires, for they could be manipulated by advisors and enemies alike. Romanticism was fine for artists but not for princes. The idea of a destined love became no more than a child’s fanciful dream, and Thorin grew gradually less opposed to the concept of an arranged marriage until the thought of it did not bother him at all. After all, his parents had been married for a political alliance and had still grown to care for each other. Thorin knew he would do the same.

At least, that was what he had told himself before he met Rúna, his dear Rúna.

He did not know immediately that she was his One, but from the moment their gazes met, he knew he would never again be the same. Her presence had so bewitched him that he had not realized he was walking toward her until she stood right in front of him. Then, stumbling over his every word, he had thought himself defeated, oblivious to the fact that she felt the same indescribable pull toward him.

“Thorin, at your service,” had been his first words to her.

“Rúna, daughter of Ragni, your highness,” she had replied with a curtsy, enchanting him all the more with her melodious voice.

“I hope you are having a pleasant time, Lady Rúna.” Already, he had loved the way her name rolled off his tongue.

“More pleasant than you, at least, seeing as you have found nothing better to do than stare at me from across the room,” she had replied teasingly.

Blushing furiously, he had attempted to remain formal and composed but, ultimately, had failed miserably. “I had hoped that would go unnoticed, or at the very least, that you would humour me and pretend like nothing had transpired. And just because I was watching you does not mean I am not having a pleasant time. On the contrary, my spirits were lifted by the sight of your fairness.”

Thorin could still remember the beautiful blush that had painted her cheeks. “Forgive me,” he had said hastily. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I did not say I did not enjoy it,” she had replied with the most enchanting smirk.

That was how their conversations usually unfolded. Thorin, who always prided himself on being in control and always knowing what to say, would find himself barely able to think. He blamed her low-cut gowns and the redness of her lips for that.

They soon became inseparable. Every day, they would meet in their secret room, a haven where they shared stolen kisses and soft caresses. Âzyungel, she would call him, for she, too, had accepted Mahal’s will. She had accepted Thorin as hers, and in those moments, both of them had believed nothing would ever separate them, for they were destined to be together.

Deep in the caverns of his mind, a voice called out to Thorin, warning him against the intensity of his passion, but he did not listen. He found himself thinking of her at the most inappropriate times, and she haunted the nights he wished he could spend with her. When he closed his eyes, he saw her smile and heard her laughter, clearer than the soft splashing of water against limestone rocks.

What would it be like to spend his whole life with her, his Rúna?

Thorin thought with utter surety that he would soon know when they announced to their families their intent to wed. At first, everyone was overjoyed. Rúna came from a wealthy and respectable family, so the king had no objections to his grandson’s choice — not that any of that mattered to the couple. Ale and Dorwinion wine flowed freely as the news travelled through the mountain. The prince had chosen his princess.

Thorin and Rúna welcomed their families’ approval, but they secretly longed to be alone once more. When at last they found themselves in the comfort of Thorin’s chambers, they drank some more wine between languid kisses, committing the moment to memory. Fingers braided hair then caressed the skin they hastily revealed, their cheeks tainted with the soft glow of love.

That night, like their hearts forever bound, their bodies became one. Thorin was gentle, attentive to her every need, and even afterwards, he continued to bathe her in tenderness, scattering kisses all over her skin as they murmured promises of eternal love to each other, bodies entangled.

Rúna fell asleep to the soft lullaby of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and though she never doubted for a second his sincerity and devotion, those promises were never fulfilled.

Rúna knew they should have been patient, and although she was usually very sensible, she had not known how to resist her handsome prince, especially not when his body had promised her glorious passion, now and for the rest of their lives. Besides, it was not as though premarital relations were unheard of. However, princes had to follow much stricter rules. And these rules had been carelessly ignored. And as the days went on, Rúna knew she would not have the luxury of keeping their transgression a secret, for inside her bloomed the product of her and Thorin’s love, but also the cause of their demise.

Even if it had not been for her growing belly, her morning sickness and alarmingly fluctuating moods would have given her away. And they did. She had never seen her parents so furious, and their disappointment pierced her heart. Her father shouted about her stained reputation and their ruined bloodline, leaving her in tears as she tried to scramble away in search of Thorin even as she knew it was hopeless.

She knew they would separate them.

King Thror, with the support of Thorin’s parents, banished Rúna from Erebor, never to see her beloved again. She tried to fight them, indignation festered inside her like a poisoned wound, the unattainable promise of Thorin’s love shattering her heart into a million pieces, but it was hopeless.

They did not inform Thorin of this, for it was their firm intention never to let him know about the bastard child. Instead, they told him she was bedridden while they conjured up a more permanent plan. And so, unaware that his One had been taken from him, Thorin brought flowers to Rúna’s door every day. He hated every moment he was forced to spend away from her — it felt unnatural — but he consoled himself by thinking that they would spend their whole lives together.

Then the dragon came.

Thorin had been out hunting in the woods with his siblings when a strong wind began to rattle the treetops. Then a roar like thunder split the sky, and the blood of Thorin’s veins froze when he heard a shout from afar.

“Dragon!”

Rúna.

Without so much as a glance at his companions, Thorin bolted toward the mountain, fear clogging his throat.

Refusing to believe this was real, he did not even stop when the gates loomed above him, riddled in flames, but the screams piercing his ears grounded him to the bitterness of reality. The air was wrought with the stench of burning flesh and the sorrow of a broken people. All around him, children cried in fright, and mothers wept while the distant ringing of useless steel announced their defeat.

No help came from the Elves that day, nor any day since; a betrayal Thorin never forgot. Even if there had been survivors still clawing for breath inside the mountain, they had no means to reach them.

Rúna.

Thorin searched for her everywhere, shouting her name until his lungs burned, but when the moon appeared, and she was still nowhere to be found, Thorin knew it was hopeless. Grief crashed over him like a hurricane.

He had lost her.

He wanted to tear the sky open and demand retribution from Mahal himself, but all his remaining strength he used to remain on his feet. He had to be strong for his people — what remained of them. His family had miraculously survived, but even that could not have filled the gaping hole where his heart had once beat.

Rúna, his dear Rúna. The memory of her lips against his turned to ash in his mouth. When he had last kissed her and held her, he had done so thinking he would have a lifetime to keep loving her. But she was now no more than a memory.

He forced himself not to think of that, for his people needed him now more than ever. Only once he was finally alone did he let his tears run free, and all through the night, he sobbed into his pillow, his only comfort the memories of their secret room, untouched by fire and blood. Thorin held onto those memories all through the years, never forgetting, never forgiving.

—

Khuzdul translations:

Âzyungêl: Love of Loves (used here to refer to the Dwarven belief in a single, destined soulmate)

Taglist: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @mcchiberry @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

#trsb21 #tolkien reverse summer bang #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic #thorin fanfic #thorin x oc #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin oakenshield x oc #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #a lifetime apart

91 notes · View notes