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shotorozu · 4 years ago

Note

hi bae!!! deku, shoto, denki with an s/o who's like affectionate with all her friends and they get insecure and kinda jealous :( ?? tysm in advance <33

s/o that’s affectionate to friends

character(s) : midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, kaminari denki (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name, L/N = last name] they/them pronouns used, quirk not specific

headcanon type : fluff, kinda angsty but there’s reassurance (x reader)

note(s) : another one i kinda held off doing because of it getting buried in the inbox sndjwkd i’m sorry for the delay! i didn’t like how denki’s turned out im so sorry

➽───────────────❥

midoriya izuku

man already knows that you’re very touchy with your friends, that’s just who you are

heck, i think before you guys started dating, you were touchy to him too! (but even more because,, you like him)

so he shouldn’t be shocked when you link onto kirishima’s arm, or when you jump to give mina a back hug

and most especially, when you poke at bakugou’s cheeks— and he just LETS YOU for some reason

he’s glad that you feel comfortable around people, considering that it’s why you’re even touchy in the first place.

but he can’t help but wonder,, is he doing enough to you? i mean, you basically do the same to him, but added the cheek, lip kisses

and the wonderful words you get to shower him in daily.

not only that, but he does tend to flush up when you try to initiate some sort of physical affection. maybe,, he’s supposed to let you be?

let you do all of that, since it makes you happy? i mean,, he supposes that he’s willing to do that.

izuku’s not a restrictive person when it comes to things like that, so he supposes that he’ll just have to ignore the weighted feeling on his shoulders despite not carrying a thing at that very moment

on the other hand, you couldn’t help but notice a change in izuku. not anything too concerning, of course

but he’d turn a blind eye— whenever you’d initiate physical affection to your other friends. he’d go silent, until it was over

eventually, you overhear a rather heartbreaking conversation between the dekusquad, and izuku himself

“deku! if you’re so down about it, then maybe you should tell Y/N about it! i don’t think they mean any harm.” you could hear uraraka console him

“correct. L/N-kun does not look like the type to be unfaithful. and even if they were, that would’ve been unacceptable behavior!”

and through out the discussion on how izuku could confront you, his s/o— he speaks abruptly

“i mean.. if Y/N is happy with being physically affectionate with their friends then,, i can’t stop them.” he says sadly, but it breaks your heart knowing that you’ve caused him to sound like this

“plus, i’m sure they have a reason to be acting that way, right?” you didn’t think how your affectionate attitude would have its effects on him

so, the next time you saw your boyfriend, you had a talk with him

“hey, honey!” he’d greet you with the usual demeanor, as if he didn’t just talk about his feelings “how are you? sorry that i was a little late, i was talking with the others!”

you smile, accepting the reason (since it’s true) “izuku, can you be honest with me?”

and this statement shocks him for a bit, “oh uhm,, yeah i can! did i do something wrong?” he scoots next to you, waiting for your reply

“does me being physically affectionate towards my friends make you,, uncomfortable?” you inquire, as straightforward as you could

he’s silent for a bit, which makes you speak again “you can be honest, it’s okay. you’re not in any trouble, zuku.” you ruffle his hair softly for comfort

then, he finally answers. “uhm,, uncomfortable isn’t the word. it’s not that i don’t trust you but,,”

“yeah?”

“i don’t trust,, me.”

this statement takes you by surprise, “oh, why?”

“i don’t trust myself that i could make you happy,” he continues “with physical affection, i mean. i understand if you weren’t, i just feel like i’m not giving you enough.”

“i understand though!” izuku continues, “whenever you initiate physical affection, i can’t help but get all staggery and nervous,” he rambles

he sounds normal, sure— but he’s not looking at you, his emerald eyes set in a downcast state

you make him face you, gently grabbing a hold of his shoulders “i’m sorry, zuku.” you press a kiss on his temples

“in truth, yes. i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with my physical affection.” you confess, “i’d see that you’d go red whenever i’d initiate something,” you tease, which gives you the exact reaction you’ve wanted

“but then,, i also didn’t think about how you felt about it. i didn’t consider the possibility of you being uncomfortable with it, so i want to apologize for that.” you lean against him, taking his hand and pressing a kiss on his palm

“if you want, i could stop it. there are other ways i could show affection to my friends anyway!” you suggest, but he shakes his head, smiling

“i appreciate it, but you don’t have to.” he reassures, “if it makes you happy then i’ll be happy.”

“is there anything else?”

“just maybe uhm,,” he trails off for a second, before continuing “give me what you give them, but multiply it by 200!” he suggests, his regular self coming back to you

you laugh, leaning forward to kiss him softly, “i love you, izuku. only you. people may receive my affection, yes— but you’re the only one that deserves all of it.”

and with that, the weight on his shoulders is lifted, and he didn’t actually have anything to worry about.

todoroki shouto

despite shouto being sometimes socially ignorant, he is a very observant person when it comes to the person he likes

so the first thing he noticed was your touchy behavior, specifically towards your friends

sure, he’s had some of that physical affection— but it was like you knew him too well. so, he received it less that the others

it doesn’t mean that todoroki disliked your physical affection. during those few times, he did tend to,, not mind it at all, when he’d usually pull them off

and it doesn’t automatically mean that you didn’t like being around todoroki, it was given that he wasn’t very big on being physical

he didn’t care, again— as long as you were happy, but then there would be this tight feeling in his chest whenever you’d run off to do it to bakugou, hugging him leisurely

or even midoriya, sometimes

so, when you guys finally confess to each other— it doesn’t appear that your physical affection towards your peers came to an end

it remained the same, and while he’s the one that received your delightful words, fully devoted love, and time— he can’t help but frown whenever he sees you latch onto kaminari

or when you sit beside midoriya and count all the freckles on his cheeks— the blush on his face being hard to ignore, in your boyfriend’s eyes.

i don’t think shouto’s a jealous person— protective is one thing, and possessive? maybe that one time, he was. but jealous? maybe not.

well, it’s not like he doesn’t trust you to stay loyal and faithful, that’s a different thing. but it’s more like,, he wants for the affection you’re giving to them

needy, that’s the word

early on, (and maybe even before you got together with shouto) it’s been established that shouto wasn’t a biggest fan of physical affection, besides hand holding, and cheek kisses for now

it makes sense to you, especially hearing about his childhood, and his father’s true colors— that are far from anything heroic.

and you definitely respect what he wants— if he wants space, you’ll comply! and if he wanted more, you’ll also be willing to comply!

that’s why you’ve been keeping things just at that— the last thing you want is making shouto uncomfortable, the concept terrifies you

but,, shouto doesn’t exactly know how to tell you that he wants more, more and more— he wants all of your affection

so, what does he do? he tells you in one exact way— he tells you what’s on his mind

and quite bluntly for that matter

the both of you have been sitting in silence for a bit, no words were exchanged. however, glances were sent towards your way

his stare has a different edge to it, as if he had something in particular he wanted to say— mouth gaping open as if he were to speak, but no words come out

“shou,” you call out to him softly, “it looks like you have something to say,” you smile at him, wanting to know what was in that head of his “you can talk to me.”

a minute flies by, and he’s still silent, and you’re about to drop the topic for good— until he finally speaks up “i don’t know what i’m feeling.”

this quirks your interest, “oh, what,, are you feeling?” what he said worries you, since it kinda sounds like he was about to deliver some bad news

“i’m,, not sure myself.” he stares down at his hands “i feel weird, whenever i see you be.. touchy around the others.”

weird, huh? “what kind of weird? could you try to explain? maybe i could pinpoint what you’re feeling.”

“i feel weird, since i haven’t experienced this before,” he breathes in, before he goes on “i feel like i want more, selfishly more. i thought i would’ve been fine with receiving minimal physical affection,”

he turns to you, heterochromatic eyes staring deep into yours “but i’m not fine with it! i want more, like what you give to the others. so that’s why,, it’s weird.”

and it suddenly dawns onto you on what he’s talking about, he’s talking about you being physically affectionate towards your friends and classmates

and how he doesn’t like it.

you frown, scooting next to him “i’m sorry you feel that way, shou.” you fix a stray piece of hair that has been misplaced, hanging near his brow

“i’m glad that you were being honest, and told me,” you cautiously hold his hand, looking at him to detect any discomfort

there’s none

“yes, i’ve been careful. i don’t wish to make you feel weird— in the bad way, and most especially uncomfortable!” he nods in understanding, he adjusts the hold on your hand, choosing to place his hand on top of yours

“and i didn’t.. think about how you would’ve felt about it. i should’ve asked you about it first.” you look at him with meaning, “‘m sorry.”

his gaze softens, and he leans closer— ever than before “it’s alright, love, no need to apologize,”

“that’s just who you are, if you show gratitude and affection with being physical, then that’s okay. i just,, want more— if that’s okay with you.” you nod, laughing softly

“i’ll give you more, if that’s what you wish. i’ll give you everything you want, whatever makes you happy.” shouto presses a kiss on your temple

“so,, does that mean you’re going to.. stop?” he asks— just because he wanted to know

“oh, if you want to, then i will.”

“you don’t have to but.. maybe tone it down?” he suggests, because although the idea of your physical affection towards your friends coming to a halt, is nice he wouldn’t admit that outloud

he doesn’t want you to stop, if that’s how you show gratitude to your friends. so, toning it down’s the best option

“i will,” you smile, “only high fives, pats on the back, and quick hugs, from now on!”

the statement makes him smile, a genuine one— he’s just glad that his concerns have a resolve now. man was just really touch starved, couldn’t blame him

kaminari denki

it took a while for him to actually start being concerned

i mean— dude’s practically the same as you. have you seen him play with ojirou’s tail? he always finds himself touching someone

whether it’d be him poking bakugou’s spiky head of hair (until he’d scream at him) or him resting his elbows on kirishima— he’s always touching someone

so, he understands if you’re going to be touchy feely with others. he actually finds it quite cute when you show your endearing side to your friends with touch (without crossing boundaries of course)

so, it was okay keyword : was

until you slowly started kissing your friends on the cheek— and it erupted,, something from within

it was so casual, that he had to process what just happened— following it up with a smile, to play it off.

he feels bad for feeling iffy about it, honest! he doesn’t have a reason to distrust you, so this feels all,, wrong for him

the gesture was definitely a gradual process. it wasn’t like you just randomly started to kiss people on the cheek— and it wasn’t like you were depriving him

so this made him think harder than he has ever thought before. maybe you were getting tired of being affectionate to him only, so you moved away from that?

or maybe you were tired of HIS affection?

maybe you were giving people affection, because they deserved it, and he didn’t? if this was the case, denki can’t complain.

denki knows he’s not smart like iida, or serious like bakugou.

but even to denki, all of that is a stretch. he’s just laying out all of the possible reasons— rational or not

and before he realized it, you knew that there was something up

denki; utterly afraid of losing you, switches from super affectionate to being isolated in his room— every single day

this is his way of experimenting with your reactions

even the bakusquad didn’t know what was up so,, yeah. there must be something bothering him.

you’re given a few ideas as to why kaminari might be acting this way, and the exact idea popped into your mind

you made him insecure

and you instantly felt bad— yes, you give all of your friends cheek kisses, and you give them to your boyfriend too!

but you didn’t realize that you would’ve potentially harmed him in the process. so, you sought out to talk to him

“hey babe,” it was just in time, your boyfriend enters through your door, “i was looking everywhere for you, you won’t believe it! i would’ve evaporated if i had to endure bakugou’s screaming one more time!”

“i was looking for you too,” you smile, ushering him to sit on your bed, “listen, i want to talk to you.”

“oh,”

“don’t worry, denki. you’re not in any trouble,” you reassure, “i just want to apologize”

it’s his turn to be confused “what? why?”

“let me ask you one thing, how do you feel about me giving people affection?”

he swallows harshly, but answers truthfully “i like it a lot, babe! i do find it cute.” he smiles, but you’re not fully convinced that his statement made it’s end

“i feel like there’s more i should know.”

“i,, yeah.” he admits, and not very gracefully “it’s— ugh! i’m sorry. i know this is really out of character for me, and i’m sorry that you have to see me feeling like,,”

“you can be honest.” you remind him briefly

“—weird. look, it’s not like your love language is weird to me. i think it’s just me being a needy idiot! and it’s not like i think you’re cheating on me!” he holds his hands up in defense

“but in a way,, i didn’t expect you to do that— you’ve only started doing it recently.”

“so it made you uncomfortable?” you’re preparing for the expected answer, ready for what’s about to be said

“,, if the shoe fits.”

seeing denki in this sort of manner gave you the biggest reality check. yes, you knew that you had something to do with his recent personality change

but you didn’t realize how much it made him question himself.

“i’m sorry, once again” you apologize, “it was wrong of me to assume you were fine with it, i just thought you’d be fine with it since well,,”

“hey, it’s okay,” denki smiles, his mood slightly better “i’m touchy too, i mean,, we both show affection physically! i’m not very surprised that you thought i was fine with it.” he brushes his thumb on your cheekbone

“i mean it, denki. i didn’t realize how much it would’ve affected you. you might not realize it, but i do.”

“it’s fineeee,” he whines playfully when you’re still upset, “Y/N, you’re affectionate, which is a trait i absolutely love. if you’re physically affectionate, that fine.”

“just uhm,,” he trails off, almost awkwardly. “maybe,, don’t bless them with your,, cheek kisses? ugh! omg there was definitely a better way to say that.”

to any other person, that would’ve been awkward— like,, really. but you understood, that’s how much you know about him

“got it, they will be exclusively for you.” you kiss him on the cheek, “thanks for being honest, denki.”

at that moment, denki’s shoulders felt lighter, and he suddenly forgot about why he even felt this way. yes, you still gave people physical affection BUT

denki kaminari still wins 😎 your kisses and ultimate tokens of affection are strictly for him

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))

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purplekiwis · 3 years ago

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OMG YES! Damaged goods blurb! Can you do a fluff one where one of them is sick with seasonal flu and the other has to take care of them, but they're being stubborn about it because that's just what they do and how they are 🤧

Okay, okay... here she is! It's a bit meh I think, but I hope you like it! 🥰

Harry is sick and grumpy, and Y/N takes care of him (from the Damaged Goods AU)

Harry feels miserable.

He’s worse than miserable, really,

because he has a cold… or is it the flu?! He has never known to spot the differences between the two, but he recognized all of the early signs, of course...

As per usual, it started with nothing but a sore throat one morning when he woke up, that ended up lingering throughout the whole day, then came a headache, and the tiredness, and the chills…

It wasn’t so unbearable at first… but the symptoms only kept getting worse and worse as the hours went by, to the point of leaving him with no choice but to skip his classes in favor of staying in bed… suffering.

The worst part about it? He wasn’t even suffering at home – where his mom could be taking her lips to his forehead every so often to see if he had a fever, and bringing him bowls of soup and fruit cubes on that same familiar bedtray that had accompanied him throughout all his periods of sickness.

Mom would also be making sure he stayed hydrated and took his medicine in time... which by the way, he wasn’t taking any. Logically speaking, Harry knew he should have gone to a pharmacy by now, to get something to make him feel better, but how? When he couldn't even muster the will to get up and go downstairs to fill the empty water bottle perched on his nightstand.

He couldn’t move.

Every single inch of his body hurt.

And now he was starting to get shivery under his bedclothes... for fucks sake.

If only he had Pepper, his spaniel mutt puppy, around to snuggle and keep his body cozy and warm like a hot water bag... then perhaps Harry would've been in a better mood. Yeah, definitely. Pepper would've let him bury his snotty face into its soft fur, and not even think to complain if its owner left a puddle of guck all over said fur.

But well, Pepper isn't there.

And being sick sucks.

Especially because Harry really wants some cuddles... and it hasn't been helping his case whatsoever that in this trying day of illness, his mind has done nothing but think of Y/N.

Pondering over what outfit she must have worn that day and what she might be up to while he’s laying there on his deathbed. He also wonders if she has noticed his absence, and if so… if she’s worried about him.

He huffs once he checks his phone again and realizes there are still no messages from her. She doesn’t have to check on him. He knows that, but he can't help that he likes to be cared for sometimes… and as it turns out illness has a tendency to turn him into a big, needy baby... who really wants to have Y/N taking care of him. It would be so good. She could play with his hair the way he likes, give him forehead kisses, hold his hand…

Harry sighs out loud. Her company would be even better than Pepper's, he believes... although Harry isn't so sure Y/N would enjoy having his snot on her as much as his trusty pup would, but that’s beside the point.

It’s even more beside the point because he knows she's not coming to see him.

She’s mad at him, he recalls now. Stupidly so, if he's allowed to think that - he did nothing wrong, after all. She asked him for a “brutally honest opinion” on a design work she was doing for one of her classes, and he simply gave her what she asked for, plain as that. But of course, then she didn’t like what he had to say and got sulky. Just girls being girls, he guesses…

Harry should've known better than to think that would stop her from coming to see him, though. His girl was a little box of surprises, after all... a true master in the art of keeping him on his toes.

She showed up only half an hour after she was done with her classes... softly knocking on his door before poking her head inside with a smile, only for her jaw to drop in shock at the absolute misery that oozed from his pores.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked sickly, almost comically. Harry could have laughed at it if he wasn't so utterly lethargic. “What- what are you doing here?”

“Well, what do you think?” The girl huffed, shutting the bedroom door behind her and heading towards the end of the bed to get a good look at him, hands on her hips. “Why didn't you tell me you were sick? Here I was, going about my day thinking you had slept in for being a bum, only to find out through your friends that you were unwell.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his downright amusement at her worried state. Y/N was worried about him? Well then, perhaps her irritation had passed and she had forgiven him… which meant maybe he’d get to have those cuddles he wanted so bad. “I thought you were mad at me?” He poked, eyebrows arching teasingly the best they could with the little energy the muscles on his face could muster.

“Well, I was and am now even more.” She punctuated. “But I still care, obviously. How am I supposed to leave you by yourself when you look like that?” She put down the bag she was holding at the edge of the bed and kneeled next to it on the floor.

“Look like what?” He frowned again. “All snotty and gross?”

“Precisely… and an awful lot like Rudolph the reindeer as well.” Y/N added, with a soft pat to the tip of his swollen, red nose.

Harry smiled at that, right before his eyes fell on the bag over his bed. “Did you go to the store to get those creepy sheet masks you wanted?”

“Huh?” She muttured confused, before noticing where he was looking at. “Oh no, um… these are just some things I got for you. Just vitamins and those gummies for when you have a sore throat, and also uh…” Y/N's cheeks went a little hot. “I got some chicken soup from the buffet restaurant as well, you know… the one next to the drug store. I thought it might do you good…”

“You went to get all that stuff for me?” Harry asked, Y/N hummed happily in confirmation, her eyes gleaming with tenderness. “Y/N... you shouldn't have. That shit is so expensive, and I'm fine, really. It's just a cold. You dont have to worry, let alone take care of me.”

“No offence, but I think I do.” The girl challenged his statement, picking up the halfway used toilet paper roll placed on his nightstand. “For a start, you shouldn’t even be using this to blow your nose. It’ll only irritate your skin and make it more sore.”

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “That’s such a mum thing to say…” He grumbled in attempt to mask the fact that the secret big, needy baby in him was loving every single bit of the mom talk, and the same applies to when Y/N clicked her tongue chastisingly once he stubbornly snatched the roll off her hand and pulled out some more paper.

She took the chance that he had moved his arm to move a bit closer, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his pillow. “Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?” She asked, lovingly running her digits through his unwashed curls. They felt a little waxy and knotty in her hands, but she didn’t mind it in the slightest. She just wanted to make him feel better in any way she could. So she kept playing with his hair, scratching at the roots and combing her fingers through his strands just the way she knew he reveled in - only breaking contact once she was almost certain that he had fallen asleep on her... However, as soon as Y/N began to pull her hand away to check her phone, Harry let out a whine and bumped his forehead against her wrist, in a silent request for her to keep going. “You're such a baby sometimes…” Y/N whispered, proceeding to fulfill his wish.

“Mhm... your baby.” He sighed happily.

Y/N smiled to herself at the state of pure bliss Harry was in. So utterly distracted by the slow puffy nature of his breaths, that she almost didnt notice that his droopy eyes had opened and were now fixed on her. He cleared his throat painfully. “Y/N... can I have one of those gummies you got? My throat hurts and I really want to try one.”

Y/N let out a tiny chuckle at the pleading tone he'd used, nodding as she got up to grab the bottle from the bag. She threw it at him playfully to catch midair, knowing that his reflexes were outstanding. “Ohh these seem nice. I love lemon and honey flavored shit.” He told her whilst inspecting the label.

“Yeah?” Y/N couldn’t help but to grin, feeling quite proud of herself for picking the right flavor. But her smile quickly melted into an expression of concern once she watched Harry crack open the bottle and carelessly throw a bunch of gummies into his mouth. “Harry! What are you- that’s not candy! You can’t eat them by the handful!”

“Oi, chill out… it’s just gummies. What wrong could it do?” He asked as he blithely chewed them. Words coming out garbled since he was speaking in between a mouthful.

“Oh, I don't know, perhaps there could be anesthetics in them... but who knows? It was just a thought.” Y/N ironized.

“Really?” He made a wry face similar to hers, inspecting the label closer. “Do you think we can get high on this shit?” He smirked, still chewing as he rolled the container around to check the ingredients in the back. “Cause I'm not gonna lie, that sounds like a pretty good afternoon plan to me...” He half joked, cracking the bottle open again and dropping a couple more gummies in his palm.

Y/N heaved at the suggestion. “I think it’s more likely that you get a terrible bellyache, and we end up in the ER...”

“You really think so?” Harry asked teasingly, taking another gummy to his mouth.

“Okay, that's enough. Give me that.” Y/N demanded, pushing for him to pass the container, but all he did was shake his head with a mischievous, defiant smirk. The girl rolled her eyes at him. “You know what? Fine.” She shrugged. “Eat as many as you want. Can't wait to watch you shit the bed once those anesthetics give you a loose bottom.”

He chuckled at the warning, amused. “If you’re so bothered, why don’t you come get them from me?” He questioned, but before he could prepare himself Y/N jumped on the bed to try and take the bottle away from his hands, what forced him to abruptly sit up and hold it over his head just so she couldn’t reach it from where she sat. “That was... real cute. Is that all you got, hm?”

Y/N huffed and crawled over his legs until she was practically on his lap. Seeing right through his facade once he happily handed off the gummies without putting up a fight and wrapped his arms around her middle to pull her in for a hug instead. “You must think you're so sly, don't you?” She mumbled in question, going back to petting his hair. “If you wanted a cuddle, you could’ve just said so… I don't mind your germs.”

“I was trying to behave to avoid getting you sick, actually…”

“Yeah right...” Y/N grumbled, dropping her head on his shoulder for a moment. “But I guess, since you've already passed me the germs and all... might as well just give me a kiss, no?” She proposed shyly, waiting for Harry to make the move. He did, pulling away slightly and placing his lips in hers softly. “Mm, more.” She pouted.

“Greedy.” He joshed, pecking the girl's lips again, and again... and once more for good measure. The damage was already done, after all... they might as well just keep doing it. “I feel disgusting, though. If I knew you were coming, I would’ve at least taken a shower and brushed my teeth. Can’t believe you still want to kiss me when I am like this.”

Y/N scratched at the frizzy hairs of his nape. “I promise you don't smell or look nearly as bad as you think you do… and you taste like lemon and honey so, that’s nice.” Harry distrustfully scrunched up his nose at her allegation, sniffing up some in the process before his digits rushed to grab some more toilet paper. He took it to his nose, blowing noisily. “Alright, snotty boy…” Y/N laughed, swiftly crawling off his lap. “How about I go downstairs to plate up our soup while you pick a movie for us to watch as we eat? It can be one of those “guy movies” and all, I promise I won't complain... today only, cause I'm giving you privilege for being sick.”

His eyes strayed towards you with interest, the lower half of his face still covered behind the poorly ripped toilet paper sheets. “I was actually thinking more like a musical or a pixar movie, maybe?”

“God, Harry.” Y/N gasped in awe. “I swear I've never felt more attracted to you in my life. Snot and everything.”

#I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT #IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT IT HONESTLY #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #damaged goods #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x yn #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fiction

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tripleaxeldiaz · 4 years ago

Text

never fallen from quite this high

read on ao3

There’s a knock at the door, but Eddie doesn’t hear it, focused instead on the pinks and oranges of the sunset coming through the window and trying to stop his mind from reeling like it’s been for the past week.

Because a week ago, when he broke up with Ana, she looked him in the eye and said, “I hope he makes you happy,” and he didn’t have to ask who she was talking about.

He knew. And that scared him more than any war zone or tsunami or lungful of mud ever could.

Another knock, one Eddie registers, but he still doesn’t move. Now he’s replaying the last conversation he had with the person on the other side of the door — when Buck had innocently, nonchalantly asked why he had broken up with “his perfect teacher” and his response, without a minute to let himself think, was “because of you”. The room became a vacuum, completely airless as they stared at each other, Buck slack-jawed and Eddie wide-eyed. He could have done a thousand things — explained himself, laughed it off, denied denied denied, anything.

Instead, he ran away, peeling out of the parking lot to put as much distance between Buck and his dumb ass as possible, drowning in the shame he brought on himself.

He should’ve known Buck would follow him anyway.

A third knock, a little louder and more deliberate, and Eddie’s fingers twitch, itching to let Buck in like his heart has been begging for for days — probably years, actually — only to be beaten into submission by his thoughts and reminders that Buck is good and he is not. That no matter how deep his feelings for Buck may be (which, as it turns out, are deep enough to brand themselves on bone), he refuses to taint him, will not spread whatever bad energy even his parents can see, not after watching Buck rebuild himself brick by beautiful brick until he loved himself half as much as Eddie does.

There’s scraping and jingling as the door is unlocked, and Eddie braces himself for whatever conversation is about to unfold. Buck walks into the room, curls loose from his post-shift shower, expression unreadable in a way that Eddie hasn’t seen in a while, not since he’d memorized every tick and twitch Buck makes. The last remaining rays of sunshine light him up as he comes to a stop in front of Eddie, wrapping him in an ethereal glow, soft and almost angelic, even with his arms crossed and his walls clearly up.

It’s a little unfair, Eddie thinks, that Buck looks this gorgeous, this inviting, when he can’t even appreciate it fully.

They stare at each other, a silent game of chicken while they each wait for the other to crack. Eddie won’t break, he can’t, because if Buck walks out of his life right now because he couldn’t keep his feelings in check, he knows there’s no way he’ll be able to put himself back together. Luckily, Buck moves first, sighing through his nose and sitting down on the coffee table across from Eddie.

“So,” he starts, “because of me, huh?”

The bluntness is enough to kickstart Eddie’s self-preservation instincts. “Let’s just forget it, Buck.”

“No, no way.” Buck scoots forward, pressing his knees to Eddie’s, preventing any kind of escape. “I don’t want to forget it or ignore it or pretend it never happened. But I would like an explanation.”

The words get stuck in Eddie’s throat, undecided on whether they’re going to come out or retreat back in and hide themselves away again. He looks away and Buck follows, staying in his line of vision, looking smaller and sadder as the silence drags out.

He breaks it, finally, along with Eddie’s heart. “Was it something I did?”

Eddie sighs. “No, it’s not—”

“Because I did like her. She made you happy, so of course I liked her—”

“Buck—”

“And I didn’t mean to keep blowing off hanging out with you guys, it’s just— you and me and her— I was worried about it being weird and I know I shouldn’t have been but—”

“Buck.” Eddie grabs his hands where they’re hanging between his legs, tries not to think about how Buck squeezes back even tighter instead of pulling away. “You didn’t do anything.”

“But you said—”

“I know.” He hadn’t even noticed threading their fingers together, but they’re here now and neither of them are moving, so he just squeezes again and takes a deep breath. “Ana was great, and I liked her a lot, but she didn’t...fit.” Because the hole Eddie thought he needed her to fill was already taken up, he just hadn’t let himself realize it. And he liked Ana — she was nice, pretty, safe, the epitome of the girl he should want, but she didn’t set his skin on fire with a brush of her fingers, didn’t flip his heart with an easy smile, didn’t make him ache for her.

She was perfect, but she wasn’t Buck.

“She didn’t fit, but someone else does?” Buck asks, like he hasn’t figured it out already, like Eddie hadn’t made it so blatantly obvious you could see it from space.

He nods anyway, confirming it. For Buck and for himself. “Yeah. You do. You fit.”

Buck’s eyes widen just a little, his face still unreadable but edging towards something like joy, only to crumble again as he searches Eddie’s face. “But that’s...bad? You don’t want me to fit.”

“No, Buck, I—” I need you to fit so bad I can’t breathe. “I want you to be happy.” More than I want myself to be happy. “I just don’t know if I can make you as happy as you deserve to be.”

Buck’s reaction is instant, without hesitation, like he knew what Eddie was going to say and already had an answer. He disentangles their hands and instead of leaving, like Eddie feared, he brings them up to either side of Eddie’s neck, thumbs resting on his jaw and holds him still so he can’t look anywhere but at Buck.

He doesn’t want to look anywhere else. It should be scary, but it’s not. It’s liberating.

“I don’t know if you know this,” Buck starts, voice low and just for Eddie, keeping secrets from the shadows that have crept into the room, “but I’m an expert at leaving when the going gets tough. Every relationship I’ve ever been in — even Abby — had me fighting some part of myself that wanted to run away as soon as things got a little hard.” He takes a breath and his eyes blaze brighter, full of conviction and absolutely mesmerizing. “I never had to fight myself for you. You and Chris fit for me too, and I am happy, happier than I ever thought I would be, because of you.”

Eddie swallows, lost in the determined, deep blue that is so uniquely Buck, and feels his walls start to fall apart.

“I’m not gonna be good at this,” he whispers — confesses — in the stillness of dusk.

“Neither will I. We’ll learn together.”

“What if I stop making you happy?”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

Eddie opens his mouth to argue again, to keep up the facade of the fortress he built around himself that he knows Buck has broken through, but something stops him. Some part of him that’s long been buried, something he thought he lost in the sands of Afghanistan, emerges from its hiding place and whispers Take it. Take him. He loves you. Let yourself be loved.

And it’s easier, then, to lean in instead of fight against. His hands frame Buck’s face, mirroring each other, and he hardly has to pull before they’re meeting in the middle. Buck’s lips are perfect, softer than he imagined but still firm and getting everything he wants, and he tastes like mint and sunshine and home. Eddie’s already trying to figure out how he can make sure he kisses Buck like this every day for the rest of his life.

Judging by the enthusiastic reciprocation and small, happy sounds he keeps drinking up, Buck’s on the same page.

They only break apart because they have to breathe, but they don’t go far, foreheads resting together, noses brushing. And as happy as he is, Eddie’s still a little scared — scared that this is all temporary, that it won’t work out, that he’ll lose one of the most important people in his life when he inevitably makes the wrong decision or does the wrong thing.

But then he hears it again, the long forgotten voice, saying He loves you. He won’t let you go and he won’t let you forget.

The last reservations Eddie has break away, and they fall back in, slotting together like puzzle pieces, drenched in moonlight and peace and hope.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #i would give tim my first born child for ocean eyes to play under a Big Damn Buddie Confession #also we continue to ride the no plot just vibes train #ficcery

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mrsmount16 · 3 years ago

Note

Can you write a mason fic where he breaks up with you but regrets it when he sees you with someone else and fights to get you back until you eventually agree to take him back? I love your writing xxx

Yep, this one took so long for me even though its not that long😬. Not my best either.. but thank you for the request🥰!

Warnings: None.

You and Mason had been finished for about four months, and honestly it had been rough for you since you both parted ways. You missed him. So much. You had every valid reason to, he broke up with you. His reasoning was that he didn't want to feel 'trapped' and wanted to hoe around while he was still young. Angry wasn't even the word to describe your feelings after that. You felt stupid and humiliated and like you should've seen the signs earlier and cut it off yourself.

You always said how you wouldn't let it affect your life though and it hasn't, you stayed true to yourself. You still went to the places that you would go together, and when the memories flooded back you pushed them away like you always did and thought about how much he hurt you. Chelsea matches were also always attended, you did that even before you met him. Chelsea was a big part of you and you was no way going to let a man alter your actions because of a stupid thing he did to you.

Dating was something you didn't want to do either right now. You much preferred to stay at home with a box of chocolates and love island playing in front of you on your tv, sitting in a dark room with the company of your dog.

You friends disagreed with your ideologies however, and thought that a woman as pretty and kind as you shouldn't be moping around in a dark room all day by yourself and they insisted over and over that you get back out there. Normally, you just ignored them, and this is what you did this time, but unfortunately, this is what got you into this predicament in the first place..

You thought you were going to a Chelsea match with your friends, which you were but there was a catch that you didn't know about. Blue streaks ran across your face and your Chelsea shirt was on followed by your scarf and white puffer coat. You sat down at your seat, super excited, like every game. The girls conversed with the boys next to you, which you didn't think nothing off, they said how they knew some people who were going and that you would be introduced but you never really cared for it. They stepped away for a few, saying how they needed to go to the 'toilet' but when they didn't return for 20 minutes and you was standing around by yourself you knew something was off.

B✌️- The view is better over here, I suggest you stay there and talk to the guy next to you, you got introduced earlier, remember?

You - R u serious? I came here with you guys, not to go on a blind date.

B✌️- Oops, sorry!!

You didn't care for what they said, you was mainly annoyed that they did it but you wasn't going to go over there and talk to them, you was going to be petty and hold a grudge. You ended up speaking to the guy, you both found it funny and quickly cleared the air that you didn't want a relationship and he totally understood and agreed with it. Laughs and smiles were exchanged and he was all around fun to be around, completely taking your mind off the whole Mason situation.

About 75 minutes into the game, Chelsea scored a goal. You hardly even noticed and did your celebrations together, hugging and cheering with the rest of the crowd. You didn't realise your ex had scored and that he was looking directly at you when he ran over. You was too busy talking and you didn't care anymore for it.

The rest of a game went by quick, your friend had left and you was now waiting for your sneaky bunch to come back over so you could leave yourself. Your head was buried in your phone, there was a buzz around the stadium that made you happy, Chelsea did just win and you couldn't be more excited.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out. You knew exactly who it was and you didn't want to hear it anymore. You groaned, turning away to maybe see if he would just go away.

"Y/N!" He repeated, your mood suddenly dimmed, but you looked over and did an awkward smile, seeing Mason jog up the steps to come over to you.

You sighed, rolling your eyes a little and moving your body to face him. You wasn't happy now, and you made sure that he knew it.

"Look, I know you don't want to speak to me," He started, panting slightly.

"Yeah, not really." You stated, pulling your coat together by the zips and crossing your arms.

"But, I just want to apologise. What I did was so wrong and stupid and I regret it everyday. I wanted you and had you and threw it away because I was being childish and silly. I took you for granted and,"

"Mason, what do you want?" You interrupted, growing impatient.

"I just want to talk with you somewhere, I want you to hear me out and I know i'm asking a lot and words won't fix anything but i'm willing to do anything and everything for you."

"It's going to take more then that." You scoffed. "You actually hurt me, do you think that's going to make up for how you made me feel?"

"No, I know it's going to take more than that and i'm willing to prove that i'll do whatever for it. Just one chance, I don't want to see you with anther guy, you should be with me, celebrate with me, learn stuff and grow old with me."

"Okay." You stated. "Whatever." Is all you could manage. You felt like you wanted to give him the biggest hug and just cry. You knew that he was already forgiven and you hated yourself for doing it so easily, but you wasn't going to let it be easy for him. Even though he might already have you, he doesn't have to know it, and you wanted to test him with how much he can prove himself and how much he wants you back.

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evil-slytherin-queen · 4 years ago

Text

His Touch

WARNING: mentions of blood, panic/anxiety attack, mentions of murder/death, mentions of physical/psychological torture, mentions of violence, mentions of not eating enough/lowkey Draco having an ED, self-hatred, mentions of self-harm

a/n I really don’t think this is super graphic or anything but you never know what can trigger you, so pretty please be careful and safe while reading.

Sometimes Draco wonders why he lets him touch him. How he can stand the sight of him. How it doesn't make him want to throw every Unforgivable he could think of at Draco.

He wonders.

But he never asks.

He's too afraid of the answer.

Too afraid of what it could mean.

Too afraid it might make him realize his mistake and make him leave. Make him hate Draco. He doesn't believe he would survive that. Doesn't believe he would want to.

That night he scrubs Draco's hands clean twice. Golden-bronze hands, rough and strong, and impossibly gentle moving Draco's pale shaking ones under the faucet. His look so small in comparison. Weak. Useless. He washes in between Draco's fingers, under his nails, out to his wrists. Let's the water wash away the pain and misery and death from his palms. Till the water runs clear again. Till it is all gone. Except it isn't.

And Draco can still see the blood.

Can see it when he shuts his eyes or if he blinks too quickly. Can feel it under his nails, and between his fingers like it has sunken into his pores. Like it has become a part of him. Draco offhandedly thinks he'd like to rip it out, tear into himself to make it leave his body. It's an absent thought and it would probably horrify him in any other circumstance.

But he won't.

He knows that would only upset him further, would make him cry, and hold Draco close apologizing like it was his fault, even though it wasn't. He always was such a martyr. And even though Draco doesn't care right now he will later. He'll care too much and he'll regret it. So he doesn't.

He's been staring from behind those stupid and awfully crooked spectacles. His eyes too green, too full of concern and trust and-and something Draco won't admit to himself. He's not ready to yet. It's too dangerous to let himself have that right now. If he does he won't be able to do what he has to, what he needs to.

He expects Draco to drop his occlumency shields. But he doesn't. He can't. If Draco lets himself feel this it will kill him. He knows it will.

Draco knows if he lets the barriers between his emotions and what he's just done down he will fall apart. Knows he won't be able to do anything other than shake and sob into solid warm arms and tell the truth. Tell him that he's disgusting and dirty and vile. That he is ruined.

And he can't. He just can't.

Except he has to. They both know he does. And it's dreadful.

"Come on, my darling. My sweet love, my Draco. I need you to come back to me." He whispers it like if he says it any louder it will break him. And maybe it would. Draco knows when he goes blank like this it hurts him. He remembers how his pain hurts Draco in return. He doesn't want to feel that. Can't even bring himself to think his name, that might bring all of his walls crumbling down without his permission.

That would be damaging and if he isn't careful it could rip a hole into his mind and leave him in a not all there sort of limbo. Although there has to be some sort of freedom in delusion and insanity, at least then he wouldn't remember. But then he recalls Longbottom's parents and the way they can't even feed themselves and he decides maybe that isn't the way to go.

Draco shakes his head, face carefully vacant, eyes glazed over as he stares past him. It's too hard to look him in the eye and keep everything perfectly in place.

"No. It will hurt." Draco says it simply, his voice sounds foreign to himself. Draco knows it will sound lifeless and wrong to him. Right now he doesn't care. He watches how the flames flicker in the fireplace behind him, how the Room of Requirement chose an oddly cosey rendition of the Gryffindor common room. If he could feel right now, it might make him laugh. He thinks it might be funny, ironic in some way he can't process currently.

Warm hands touch his neck. They feel hot, like the sun. Draco knows they're not his own. He's perpetually cold now thanks to Aunt Bella's Cruciatus Curse training. And even if he can't look at his hands right now without losing his manufactured calm he knows they're still hanging by his sides, trembling. The hands burn a trail up his neck, brushing calloused thumbs under his jaw, trailing them up and over his cheekbones till they're cupping his face softly.

He can physically feel wetness hitting his cheeks, it makes his mouth twitch down, eyebrows scrunch a little. That shouldn't be happening.

"You're crying." He says the warm hands brush the tears away gingerly. And he can feel the way his eyes watch him, waiting. He expects it to happen soon. Expects Draco to break under the heavy weight of despair.

"I shouldn't be."

"But you are."

Draco shouldn't be able to cry. His shields are slipping and he knows it. He hates it. He doesn't reach a hand up to wipe them away. He lets himself be kissed on the forehead. Let's himself be pulled over towards the fire and cradled into a warm embrace. Draco's tucked against a scorching body on the sofa and a blazing fire just beside them. He should be burning alive but he still feels ice cold.

Deft fingers run through his hair. It doesn't look how it used to, it's taken on a grey pallor and waxy feeling ever since the summer before sixth year. It's the stress, the bad eating habits. It's not his fault he can't keep food down. It's the nightmares, the way Aunt Bella thought it fun to poison his food every so often for giggles. Draco misses how it used to look. All white blonde and shiny. He misses how soft and feathery it used to feel ever since he'd quit slicking it back with those charms his father had insisted he use. He supposes that's what happens when you become a child soldier, a spy. Things don't get to stay nice or pretty or good.

Salazar.

He shouldn't be able to miss that right now.

He's scared. So, so scared. He isn't ready. He'll never be ready. Not for this. Draco tells him so.

"I can't do this."

Draco can feel his gaze on him filled with its usual encouragement and tenderness. He presses a kiss to Draco's hair.

"You can."

"I'll die."

"You won't. I've got you, my darling, my Draco. I'm here, just let go. I'll keep you safe." He speaks it like a promise and the word safe is what does Draco in. It's all he wants. All he's wanted for a long time. Safety.

He can already feel the occlumency shields cracking and he lets them slide away, a violent sob clawing its way out of his throat. It leaves his mouth and makes him feel raw and exposed. It's heart-wrenching and frightening how broken he sounds. And it hurts.

Because now he can feel everything.

Disgust.

Regret.

Self-loathing.

Fear.

Grief.

Guilt.

Shame

Weak.

But mostly he just feels useless and sorry so very sorry.

And he feels like he's suffocating like he's dying. Like he'll never breathe again. Tears flood his vision and it's revolting and it makes him feel sick. And he feels like a monster.

He tries to get away from him, scrambles off of his broad chest, and tries to pull far far away. Draco doesn't deserve to touch someone so good with his hands that have hurt and maimed and-and killed.

But he won't let him, won't let him get more than a few centimetres away. Grabs his wrists to stop him from leaving, till he's stuck straddling him, wrists clutched into hot palms.

"No. You don't run away. You don't run from me, never me. Tell me what happened."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He doesn't recognize his own voice for a moment, it doesn't sound like him. It sounds hysterical and far away and Merlin, everything hurts. He shakes his head violently back and forth. He doesn't want to tell him. He tries to pull his hands out of his grip to rip at his own hair. He doesn't deserve this comfort not after what he just did. He shouldn't have taken down his nicely built walls that kept him perfectly in check. He should have just buried these feelings in with the others. Should've let someone Obliviate him instead of having to deal with it. This feels like dying.

"Draco. Draco! Stop!" He says it forcefully, his hands tightening around his wrists and it breaks him out of his hysteria. Draco freezes, he knows that tone of voice too well. It startles him into silent tears instead of the loud sobbing he had been doing. He doesn't want to hurt him too. And if he hurts himself and carries on like this it will hurt him.

"Harry," He chokes the name out painfully and looks at him through watery eyes, "I'm sorry."

Harry frowns and pulls Draco's hands towards his lips. Draco feels the horror wash over him before Harry gets the chance to finish what he's doing.

"STOP!" He yells the word frantically, Harry halts his movements.

"Please," Draco begs weakly, "Please, they're dirty. I-I hurt, I k-killed a-a child. A help-helpless child. Please don't. Please."

Harry looks at him firmly, fiercely, locks him in with a determined glint in his green eyes. He pulls each of Draco’s hands to his lips, one at a time, and kisses his palms, his fingertips, the back of his hands, his wrists. Each press of his lips makes Draco gasp and cry like he's in pain. Maybe he is, he can't tell anymore. Harry does it with delicate care like he hadn't just washed blood off of them, like they hadn't just done foul, nasty, unforgivable things.

By the time he stops, Draco has his eyes twisted shut painfully. He can't watch as Harry worships hands that have torn people's, children's flesh and blood from their bodies. He can't bear it.

"Look at me, my love."

He doesn't.

"Look at me, Draco."

A plea. his voice bordering on begging. This time he does. Harry should never have to beg someone so monstrous for anything, it's wrong.

Harry's eyes are so beautiful. Draco hasn't seen anything green and living in so long not since the Death Eaters had come to Hogwarts and scorched the surrounding lands. They remind him of the grass in the spring and the leaves on the big oak trees in the summer, of emeralds and pine. They remind him of something soft and comfortable and safe. They remind him of Harry and how much he shouldn't and can't love him right now. Not without having to kill little pieces of himself for hurting someone so good and beautiful and kind with his dirty and foul being.

And there are tears in his eyes again. Draco can feel them as they fall down his cheeks. Bloody fucking hell. A piteous sound comes out of his mouth as he tries to catch his breath. He can't.

Harry pulls his inconsequential and fragile-looking hands, a dangerous deception seeing as what they're capable of, down against his chest. The action makes Draco flinch. He puts his large and callous and warm ones over top of them keeping them pressed into his shirt till he can feel Harry's heartbeat. It unconsciously soothes him. And he hates himself a little for relaxing even the slightest after he did something so heinous.

"You are not your actions. You are not what you were forced to do to survive, just as I am not my actions or my failures. You, Draco, are not to blame for the lives you could not save, just as I am not to blame for the death of those who fought to protect me. If I'm not allowed to blame myself for the casualties of a war I never asked for then neither are you. Are we clear, my love?"

His words are calm and soft-spoken but the way his eyes are fixed on Draco makes them so much more intense and concrete. And he isn't wrong. Draco had had the same conversation with him before. But that time he had been the one to hold Harry as he cried over the death of Sirius Black, of Dumbledore, of Cedric Diggory, of Alastor Moody and blamed himself for them all. But it's different. Those were all good people who lost their lives to Death Eaters and Draco, Draco is a Death Eater doing what they do best. Hurt others. End lives. It is not the same.

"It's-but that's different. They-you can't control-"

"It's not. I can't control what others do for me just like you can't control what's done to you," Harry says letting one hand reach up and brush tears from Draco’s cheek, he doesn't flinch this time, "I know Bellatrix and the Carrows force you to watch these things. You wouldn't unless you had to. I know you would stop them if you could. But you can't. Not yet. And I know it hurts every time you have to move their bodies, every time you try to revive them but you can't. I know. And I'm sorry."

And he's right. Draco would kill them and every other nasty Death Eater if he could. He would fight them with everything he had if he could. Throw every dark and dangerous curse that Aunt Bella taught him right back at her and revel in her suffering for what they did. Draco can feel the anger thrum under his skin but it simmers down into anguish again with the way Harry sighs. The way his pretty face smiles at him mournfully.

"I wish you hadn't done this, Draco. I wish you didn't have to watch so many die by their hands. I wish you never had to get this," Harry traces his fingers along the inside of Draco’s left wrist.

It's stained with the Dark Mark and scars from where he's tried to scratch off his own skin. It's shameful, and it makes Draco want to pull away again. He doesn't though. He's more here than he was before. More in his body and less in his mind. Harry's heartbeat always seems to bring him back faster than anything else. It's why they send him to get information and not someone else. And they promised never to run from each other. He isn't going to break that promise now.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispers back, he's stopped crying now. He's ashamed. He always is after he's had an episode like this. He can't help it no matter how delicate and kind and sweetly Harry handles them.

"Draco? My love? Are you all the way back with me?" Harry sounds hopeful, his eyebrows scrunch in question, and it makes Draco's heart clench. He's missed him. He hasn't seen Harry in three weeks. It's been too long. This war has been too long. He hasn't properly looked at him yet. And he is still beautiful, still so painfully open despite who Draco is.

But he looks tired. The bags under his eyes are darker, deeper, and his skin is more sallow. He's paler than he once was, his brown skin no longer looks dusted in gold and sunlight but his hair is the same disaster of dark raven curls. It never changes even when the rest of him does.

Draco carefully pulls his hands from Harry's grasp and slides them up along his body. He traces Harry's broad shoulders, brushes his fingers along his too-defined collar bones. He isn't eating enough either, none of them are. Draco skims them up to Harry's neck and cups his jaw with oddly still hands. He's almost always trembling now. But not with Harry around, never when he's around.

He smoothes out the wrinkles in between Harry's brows with a swipe of his thumb. And places a kiss there too. He hates to see him so exhausted with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He should have noticed sooner.

"Yes. I'm back, Harry, my darling. I'm sorry it took so long tonight."

And in spite of the circumstances, Harry smiles at Draco. He smiles like Draco hung the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Draco can't help but think that Harry is the one who should be smiled at in that way. He's the one who will save them all as much as Draco hates the very idea of him having to. It should have never been his job in the first place. He was-is only a child.

"S'alright, not your fault. Want to tell me what actually happened? I know you never hurt any of them, I know it's never you. Tell me what they made you watch."

Draco sighs and leans forward till his head rests against Harry's, eyes closed. He strokes his thumbs over Harry's jaw. He needs to shave, Draco can feel the stubble growing in again. It makes him smile faintly, remembering the first time Harry had let Draco shave his face for him. It felt like a lifetime ago when in reality it was a little over a year ago.

He feels Harry's hands trail down to his thighs straddling him and then up to hold his hips. Harry draws circles into his skin with calloused thumbs. It's soothing in a way that Draco still feels he doesn't deserve but he lets him anyway. He's too weak to resist any comfort given to him.

"They said if he liked muggles so much they would show him how vile and primitive they were," His voice shakes as he speaks and he feels sick and dirty all over, "How-how d-dangerous. They-they cut him to pieces, Harry. I couldn't-I couldn't help him."

Tears wet his face, trail down his cheeks in torrents. He opens his eyes to blink them away. It doesn't work. His hands tremble violently and he tries to draw away from Harry. He doesn't want to hurt him on accident, doesn't want to scare him. He knows Harry won't let him go far so he settles for putting his hands over Harry's heart again, leaving their heads bent together. At least this way he won't accidentally scratch his face with his shaking hands.

Harry frowns at the action but doesn't stop him. Instead, he rests his hands over top Draco's again. He strokes the back of his hands. He says nothing as Draco shuts his eyes and learns to breathe again. And when he's finally caught his breath, Harry speaks. His voice is tender and sweet, his eyes no doubt the same.

"Who, Draco?"

"His name is Leonidas Baros. The name's Greek. It means lion strength," Draco laughs wetly through the new wave of tears that cascade down his cheeks, "Not a bad name for a first-year Gryffindor is it?"

"It's a good name," Harry murmurs.

Draco laughs again but it comes out more of a wet sob than anything else. He keeps his eyes closed, it makes talking easier. The feeling of Harry's skin against his own urges him to continue.

"It is. Was." -Draco chokes a little at the thought- "It suited him so well too. Little muggle-born Leo with his loud mouth and his stupid bravery. He reminds-reminded me of you."

Draco gets quiet after that. He gets caught in the memory of this little eleven-year-old boy with dark hair and fierce eyes storming up to him in the corridor in defence of his friends. He hadn't drawn his wand but held up his fists instead and called Draco a bully, an arsehole, a bloody racist bigot. Told him off for being a coward for having something so 'bloody brilliant’ and wasting it on following 'Magical Hitler' and being a 'Nazi'. Leo always was loud and reckless in his acts of defiance and his screaming had caught the attention of the Carrows. They told Draco either he could punish him or they would, so he had grabbed Leo by his robe front and dragged him into the nearest classroom shouting and struggling and cursing the whole way there.

'Listen to me, brat!' Draco had hissed once the door had shut behind them and Leo continued to struggle, 'Listen! I am a bully and a bigot and all those other things, I'm probably even whatever those bloody muggle terms were but you need to listen! I have to make it look like I've punished you. So I'm going to glamour you with all sorts of cuts and bruises and you're going to go out there shivering and shaking and crying if you bloody well must and put on the best-damned show they've ever seen. Do you understand me?'

'My name's Leonidas, not brat. And why should I?' He'd spat back, fury in his eyes, utter revulsion and hatred. It had sent a strange pang of shame and pride through Draco's body. He'd never had the boldness to do anything so blatantly defiant. Then he'd seen the boys tie. It was red and gold and an act of defiance in and of itself. A flash of Harry's face had crossed his mind and he knew he needed to protect the insufferable brat causing such trouble.

'Because if you don't I'm sure they'll be more than happy to find someone less averse to tormenting children. Now, do we have an agreement or would you rather the Carrows play with you and your little friends?'

'Fine. But I don't like you.' He'd growled arms folded over his chest but Draco could see the fear at the mention of the Carrows.

'Oddly enough, I feel the same,' Draco said flatly, an irritated look on his face as he drew up his wand, 'Now, let's make this believable, Leonidas, was it? Scream.'

"Hey, hey, my sweet love, come back to me. Where did you go? What happened?" Harry murmurs kissing the corners of his mouth. Bringing him back to his body and out of his memories.

"Sorry," Draco whispers against his lips, brings his hands up, and strokes the sides of Harry's face to remind himself of where he is, "I'm wasting time. But, he didn't deserve this. None of them did. He deserved better, they all do."

"Yes, they do. As do you. We all deserve better than this war. And you aren't wasting anything, we've got all night."

Harry's hands latch back onto his hips. His fingers pet the soft skin on his midriff making him shiver. He's missed being touched without being hurt. No one else is allowed this close to him without a serious fight. Everyone else is a threat. He hopes when this is all over and it will end, one way or another, that he will be able to allow others near him again.

He misses the closeness of it. That's why he and Harry are sharing the same air right now. It's why he can't bring himself to pull away from where their heads are bent together, lips grazing over each other, breath mingling.

"Still, it's selfish. The others could be in here hiding from-"

Harry cuts him off with a kiss. It's slow and soft and mournful. A lot of what they do now feels that way. It feels as though they're always grieving for the carefree love they never got to have.

"They will be just as safe at Aberforth’s as they would be here. It's not selfish. You need this," -Draco pulls away to give him a look- "No don't look at me like that, Draco."

"You just wanted to see me. Don't lie to me and say that isn't what this is. I miss you too but-"

Harry interrupts him with another kiss. It should be a sin how easily that can make Draco fall quiet. It's an unfair tactic.

"Yes," Harry says, bumping their noses together, "A part of me just wants to be with you for the sake of being with you, but I also know that if you're weighed down by all that you've seen you won't be able to feed us as much information. That is why this is not a waste and it is not selfish. Okay?"

The soft earnestness in his pretty green eyes halts all sorts of arguments from leaving his mouth. Draco sighs and relents.

"All right."

Harry smiles at him easily and Draco melts just a little at the sight. He pecks him on the lips once more before letting his body sink further into Harry's embrace. Till he's lying directly on top of him their legs intertwined and his head and hands resting on Harry's chest.

Draco listens to Harry's steady breathing and the familiar sound of his heartbeat. He hasn't felt this calm in months. He can't wait for this war to be over.

They stay that way for a long while, Harry's hands rubbing soothing lines up and down his back. Until Harry's breathing evens out and Draco can't help but to shift up and gaze at his sleeping lover's face.

He is beautiful in a devastating way. It makes Draco's heart lock up with all sorts of mushy feelings neither of them has time for. He smiles a small fond thing as he brushes an errant curl out of his face.

"I love you, my Harry, my darling."

Draco whispers it like a secret, kissing him on the forehead, and then settles himself back down against his broad chest.

And a small part of Draco still wonders why Harry lets him --the monster, the Death Eater, the coward-- touch him, the sun, the Savior, the brave.

But he never asks because he knows the answer.

Knows that Harry will never leave him.

Knows that they will never run from each other.

Knows that if he ever asks, Harry will frown and get that painfully endearing confused look on his face and answer back with a question of his own.

"Why wouldn't I? I love you, Draco."

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dearest-kibble · 4 years ago

Note

could you please write something for haikyuu where reader is kidnapped by their crush and (let's just say they have issues as well) so they're just flattered by the attention of the yandere and completely down with it 😥

Ok!! So this strikes me as a very Daichi (he’s very soft) thing to do? That or Oikawa? Also shoot I try to keep these gender neutral, but I think I accidentally made the reader more feminine (dresses are in your closet, calls you princess

Tw: Implied former abuse (From a family), yandere content, stalking.

Daichi Sawamura

You were warm. A soft fuzzy light filters through white curtains as you sit up on a plush bed. Blankets cover your legs. Those aren’t your blankets, those aren’t your curtains. This isn’t your house. You hear a knock.

“Come in?” It’s a meek, meek sound you make as the door creaks open so delicately. You’ve never really liked when your family came into your room, but this wasn’t your room, and chances are that wasn’t your family knocking. So when the captain of the famed volleyball team walks into the room you’re a little taken aback. It’s not everyday where someone so normally levelheaded and polite keeps you in their house for one reason or another.

“I didn’t mean to, but please stay here? I’ll take good care of you.” He’s leaning against the door unthreateningly. “Oh this is probably - I’ll give you some space okay? Food’ll be ready soon, I’ll bring some to you if you don’t come out of your room.” He seems to realize that he might be intruding as he stares at your blushing face. He closes your door gently and you hear the popping of a stove as it turns on. You start shedding the blankets off of you, swinging your legs over the lavish covers of your new bed. You could live with a gentle captor after the years with your family. Your feet hit the hard wood of the ground and a chill is sent through you. To stop the chill crawling through your body, you wrap one of your large, fluffy blankets around you. Your room is decorated in soft pastel greens and whites and lots of books. Your closet has been filled exclusively with long floral dresses. Which begs the question, what are you wearing right now? The Volleyball captain seems to have put a mirror in your room, several pictures of you from school are stuffed into the side of the mirror. You sleeping in class, were you two in the same class? You didn’t think so but maybe you were wrong. Shedding the blanket for a quick second reveals that you are in the same clothes you remember putting on before... what exactly happened? Feeling the return of the cold on your body you pick up your blanket and seeing as you need some questions answered, you go to find your chef and photographer.

“So, uhm” You don’t know his name do you?

“Sawamura Daichi, I should’ve introduced myself earlier, huh?” He chuckles a little as he turns from a pan to look at you.

“Sawamur-” You start.

“Everyone calls me Daichi, you especially, shouldn’t be an exception.” He turns back to preparing some pan fried dish.

“Daichi? I Guess I should’ve known that, everyone talks about the volleyball captain!” You smile at him, he’s being sweet and anyone would appreciate that. “So, my mind seems to be blanking on what happened before i came here, would you mind telling me?” Well that was presumptuous to assume that he actually knows. Maybe you passed out and he was kind enough to pick you up off the side of the road.

“I took you from your house. I’m not very keen on putting you back though, so please try to get used to living with me.” He’s spun on a dime at your words and offers a sympathetic smile.

“You took me from my house?” You feel like crying as you speed over to him by the stove. “Thank you Daichi,” He seems a little taken startled at your willingness to hug him but wraps his strong arms around your waist anyways. “Thank you so much.” Your pretty sure the wetness on his clothes is because you’re crying,

“Of course, I knew you’d be happier with me than stuck there,” He smiles as he leans his face down into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. It’s the first time you’ve been kissed.

“You look really cute y’know?” His palms are on your shoulders, pushing you gently away from his chest. “Wrapped up in that blanket, it’s so big on you.” He’s blushing as he looks at you.

“Oh uhm, thank you,” Though your cheeks are still wet, they’ll evaporate at this rate. “What’re we having to eat?”

“Fried eggs, if that’s alright. I’m afraid I mainly eat protein.”

“Oh that’s fine! It’ll be nice to eat with someone!”

“Do you wanna eat in the kitchen or your room?” He’s asking if you want to eat somewhere and you’re pretty sure it’s more than anyone in your family’s asked before.

“My room, if that’s alright? It’s very comfortable.”

“I’m glad you like, I designed it for you!” Daichi smiles a lot, it’s the most anyone had smiled at you and you can get used to it. He hands you a white plate with a fried egg, perfectly brown and with the now free palm, guides you to the door you had left open. “Have you looked at your closet yet?” You nod as he sets a large towel that you hadn’t seen him take on the bed. “One second, I need to get my plate. Don’t start without me!” He dashes out of the still open door and returns equally as quickly with his plate, also with one egg. You sit one the towel he’d laid out.

“You ready yet?” He sets down his plate and is about to sit next to you on the bed before doing a quick double take.

“Shi- I forgot utensils, sorry to make you wait.” The way he physically restrains himself in front of you is cute and you can’t help but let out a small giggle.

“No no, you’ve already done so much today, tell me where to find the utensils and I’l-”

“I couldn’t very well make my guest,” He trails off for a second with some uncharacteristic muttering. “Lift a finger! Let me get the forks.”

“Thank you Daichi, you don’t have to do all of this for me, but I really appreciate it.” His eyes go a little soft at your words. Before he seems to realize that he should be getting forks and once again, exits the room calling back,

“Be right back!” And true to his word less than thirty second later, he is sitting on the bed, two forks in hand.

“Thank you again! You shouldn’t be the only one doing work though, let me do something for you!” You cut a piece of egg, and place it into your mouth. It’s much better than you thought it would’ve been.

“Well you’ve seen the closet, right?” You affirm this fact with a quick nod. “There’s this one dress I’d love for you to try on if you wouldn’t mind.” Its a more sheepish smile this time, like he’s a little embarrassed.

“You’re embarrassed!” You can’t contain your fit of giggles this time. This volleyball captain is so much more than the typical jock.

“Wh- what?” He sputters with a dusting of color on his cheeks. “I’m no-”

“It’s cute!” You say through a mouthful of egg as you wiggle your fork at him. He ceases to know how to respond at calling him cute. You suppose it wouldn’t be to bad to help him out a little. HIs reactions truly are, quite cute. “What’s the dress?”

“O-Oh, it’s uhh,” He buries his face in his hands. “It’s with with blue flowers embroidered on it, it’s my favorite dress.” He’s almost mumbling and he hasn’t eaten any of his egg.

“Well,” You raise a morsel to your lips. “If you’ll eat and get out, I’ll change for you.” His cheeks burn at the words ‘for you’ escape your mouth.

“O-okay, you don-” He stops speaking before he can finish his sentence, instead noticing the egg on his plate. The fork he had’t touched since it was put on the towel finds its way into his hands and he scarf up the egg in three bites,

“Ok,” You swing off the cushy bed for a second time today and walk to your closet. Sifting through the clothing you find a simple white dress, at the bottom of the skirt, purple-blue blue bells grow from the hem. Holding the dress out, you turn towards Daichi. “Is this it?” His eyes are wide as he nods quickly before evacuating your room. As soon as your door clicks shut, you are slipping out of your cloths and into he blue bell dress.

“Okay! You can come in, you may have to zip it up a little though!!” You call a little louder than normal and you’re half convinced that Daichi was just waiting with his hand on the doorknob for you to be finished as he tumbles into the room holding a camera.

“You look, uhh - may I take a picture? You look adorable.”

“Thank you! And sure, you can take a picture, but please, zip the rest of the dress up, i can’t reach it.”

“Of course!” His legs stride nimbly over to you at the mirror and you are reminded of the pictures he has stored on the edges.

“You have a favorite picture of me?”

“It’s the one where you’re sitting in your room, trying on a dress.” The sound of a zipper is white noise in the background as you scan the edges of the mirror for when you were trying on a dress. You find it quickly, it’s in the top right corner. You were probably awake in the middle of the night, when everything was quiet so you could be left alone.

“So, should I ask about why you have all these pictures of me? Do I have a stalker?” Really you don’t mind, the teasing in your voice got it across quiet well you hoped.

“No sweetheart, I’m just-” His voice stops and if you look at the mirror close enough, you can see his posture has become more ridged.

“Sweetheart?” That came out of left field, but it wasn’t unpleasent.

“Can I call you that?”

“I’ve just. Never been called that before, it’s sweet.” He’s finished zipping your dress and you can see it’s been made to fit your exact measurements.

Daichi breaths a sigh of relief. “Oh,” He moves out of the reflection in the mirror, throws the towel you two had used to eat on and picks up the camera he had set on a bedside table. “Could you sit on the bed for me?”

“Sure!”

“Now, tilt your head a little and smile for me Princess. Just like that, exactly.” The clicks of a camera are loud in the pastel room that is now yours.

“Did the-”

“We’re not done yet, i’m going to rearrange your position okay?”

“Okay Daichi!” He’s so kind to let you know what he’s going to do. So gentle as he tilts your head to look towards the ceiling.

“Give me a sec, stay right there sweetheart.” His voice is so happy and affirming and you can’t help but smile at it. He comes back about five minutes later. “Hold these please!” He hands you what feels like a bouquet. It fits snugly into your two hands and you take a flower out, bringing it to your nose. A rose. “Hold there, sweetheart.” You’re sure you hear a whisper of, “You look so good sweetheart, just like that.” Your lips can’t help but smile as the thorns poke into your finger. Blood drips down the rose like a raindrop on a windshield. Daichi breaths a “Perfect” before you hear the snap. “Thank you Princess, you look so beautiful like that, lets say we get that finger bandaged?”

“Of course!” You’ve never felt more happy in your life. “I love you Daichi, you’re so kind.” He doesn’t blush this time, instead he puts down the camera and picks you up.

“I love you too Sweetheart. You’re such a good girl.” You giggle, he’s so cute and sweet.

“Thank you Daichi, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

So fun fact! I was gonna add an Oikawa but then Daichi demanded that i make his segment longer because I love him. Fun fact two, Oikawa is gonna get his own post! Third fun fact? I hate the pet name sweetheart. Anyway, I’m so sorry requester that it took me so long to get this out to you, I hope you see it and enjoy what i’ve done with it!

#Yandere daichi x reader #yandere daichi #daichi x reader #daichi imagine #hq daichi #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere haikyuu #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #yandere x reader #no y/n #yandere #yandere fic #yandere fanfic #yandere fiction #daichi sawamura #daichi sawamura x reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 4 years ago

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May I have a scenario/imagine, whichever makes more sense, of Trey, Rook, and Crewel trying to tame some sort of wild, magical invasive species of Poison Ivy that has taken over the greenhouse?

Crewel gives me perpetually disappointed wine aunt father vibes. This piece also lowkey turned out to be Trey x Rook, but you didn’t read that from me.

This imagine’s longer than my usual 1k word self-imposed limit, since it goes out to a friend of mine that’s been supporting me through final projects and exams. I’m not sure if they’d want me tagging them so publicly, but they know who they are.

Imagine this...

To Professor Crewel’s chagrin, members of the Science Club had never had strong academic intent. In actuality, the club was a thinly veiled excuse to bake cakes (just to find the perfect ratio of leaveners and sweeteners!) and to stalk watch students in their natural habitats (nothing wrong with an impromptu observational study, right?). Instead of test tubes and beakers, the lab benches were littered with cake pans and photographs of unsuspecting Savanaclaw students.

“I do wish you two would take this club more seriously,” Crewel would often gripe, fingers massaging his temples. “Science is not a play thing, it is a powerful tool with which we can use to redefine and reshape the world around us.”

Such were the woes of an instructor--but today, he had no time to lament.

Crewel’s jaw tightened as he gazed upon a sprawling mess--the shattered glass panes of the Botanical Garden, with massive stalks of ivy reaching for the skies. Casualties lined the ground--plants and flowers drained dry of their life, all withered and decayed. The ivy writhed in glee.

(He shouldn’t have been surprised that the headmaster summoned him and the Science Club to resolve the issue instead of hiring a real exterminator.)

“How unseemly,” Crewel noted, clicking his tongue. “Running amok and ruining so many of the specimens we’ve carefully cultivated... This shall not go unpunished.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Clover.”

“Yes.” Trey stepped forward, his magical pen ready.

“Hunt.”

“Oui.” Rook followed suit, smoothly drawing forth his own pen.

“The time has come to prove your mettle,” Crewel announced, rapping his pointer against his palm. His onyx eyes seethed with a quiet, controlled rage. “Show this overgrown weed what the Science Club is truly capable of.”

At his command, the boys nodded and tore off toward the Botanical Garden.

Crewel held his ground. The corners of his mouth curled into a condescending smirk as he addressed the poison ivy. “Come here.”

An arm of ivy flew at him, so fast that it was but a blur.

An alive, but livid, blur.

“Heel!”

A column of fire erupted from Crewel’s pointer. His attack slammed against the plant, settings its leaves awash in embers. The rogue plant let out a sky-splitting roar.

The battle had just begun.

Trey ducked under an arc of burning ivy and threw open the door to the Botanical Garden. Tucking his limbs in, he barreled through right as more ivy snaked in to seal off the entrance once more.

He could feel the heat upon his back, the earth quaking under his feet, and Rook close behind him--yet he willed himself to keep his eyes glued ahead, even as he launched across the threshold and into a terrifying new realm.

The inside of the greenhouse now glistened with ivy--covering the glass panes, slowly strangling what few plants remained. The Botanical Garden had always been warm before, but it was unusually so today. Sweltering, and almost so humid that the floors and walls seem to eerily pulsate with life.

“Keep your wits about you, and don’t look back, boys,” Crewel had instructed them. “Just get in there, and cut it off at its source--at the heart.”

Trey’s eyes darted this way and that. Green, green, green. It all looked the same to him. Where in the world was the point of origin?

“Got any ideas?!” He glanced over his shoulder at his partner--and his protective goggles nearly went askew.

Rook had dropped to one knee, pressing a gloved hand against the floor--now a carpet of vines. “Hoooh! What a fascinating specimen!” he marveled. “Such destructive power, and yet it also sports this emerald sheen... Très manifique!”

“H-Hey... No offense, but I don’t think now’s the time to stop and sniff the roses. Or, well. I guess it would be ivy in this case.”

“Non, non! There is always time for beauty--even in dire situations!” Rook insisted, his hands continuing to grope around. His eyes suddenly creased, and his smile turned sly. “Ah, te voilà.”

“Even if you say that, that’s not going to help us fix this...!!”

“Calm yourself, Chevalier des Roses,” Rook advised with an airy laugh. He cupped a hand to his ear and beamed. “Listen closely! Surely even your own heart beckons you to still your worries.”

“Heart?” Trey straightened, adamant as he folded his arms. “Sorry, but I just don’t believe in stuff like that. Come on, Rook. We need to focus--Crewel-sensei’s trusting us with this task.”

He cast a concerned glance at the doorway, ensnared in vines. They’d have to blast their way through later--but if they stayed in this space for too long, they, too, would soon be drained of all their life force. “We can’t just mess around!”

“Ah--but you must put your faith in me as well, Chevalier des Roses!” Rook insisted, pointing to the patch of floor that he had been not-too-subtly groping earlier. “I implore you to lend me your strength!”

“You want me to attack the gr--?!” Trey froze mid-sentence. He had become vaguely aware of a gentle sensation creeping around his ankles.

In an instant, he was yanked into the air, dangling upside down like a useless rag doll. Blood rushed to his head, and his surroundings spun.

“Chevalier des Roses!!”

“I’m fine!! I-I’m fine!” Trey called--though he clearly wasn’t. “I can just--” He waved his magical pen, the air growing tense as a small ball of fire collected at his command.

“Non!” Rook warned, startling his classmate. “There is nothing to cushion your descent, mon amie! You will surely break a leg--and certainly not in the theatrical sense!”

He’s right. Trey’s fire extinguished itself, replaced by a chill crawling down his spine.

“A little help then?!”

Rook’s eyes widened. “You would give me your trust?”

“Not exactly like I have any other choice.” Trey would shrug, but it was a rather difficult motion to pull off while suspended midair--and far more troublesome, his veins ran cold. It was a sure sign of the ivy sapping his energy.

“Have no fear! Today, it shall be my turn to be the chevalier.” The hunter grinned from ear to ear, magical pen in hand.

“Please, Rook! Any day now--before I become plant food!” Trey’s voice was hoarse--from exasperation, or from the magical ivy, he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps both.

“Just for today, I shall be your Chevalier D’amour.”

And with a confident wink, Rook plunged the ivy-covered floor into a sea of flames.

The accursed plant wailed as it shriveled to ash upon a backdrop of billowing smoke. Embers flickered and danced in the afternoon, the Botanical Garden set ablaze. Crewel took a step back, grimacing at the growing fire.

A figure emerged from the greenhouse, carrying another. The professor squinted into the smoke, pinpointing the familiar outline of his Science Club members--Rook, cradling a pale-looking Trey in his strong arms.

“Puppies.” Crewel pinched his temples.

“C’est chose faite--it is now done.” The brim of Rook’s hat eclipsed his eyes, making the typically cheery hunter appear dark to match his tone. Then he lifted his head, basking in the sunshine, and that somber moment was over. “All is well and good again, as it should be!”

“I... I thought I was going to die,” Trey groaned. “... And Rook, I appreciate you catching my fall, but you didn’t need to carry me out like you’re an action hero in a movie or something.”

“Are you able to still stand after an attack from that heinous plant?”

“Yeah. Just put me down.”

“Oui.”

Trey stood on shaky legs--and instinctively leaned on Rook’s shoulder.

“Well, boys. You’ve exterminated the ivy--as well as just about every other plant in the Botanical Garden. How exactly do you intend to atone for this?!” Crewel snapped, whipping his pointer at his students. “I believe my instructions were quite clear--destroy only the heart of the ivy.”

“The fault lies with me, Monsieur,” Rook declared, dipping into a bow. “We dallied for longer than was necessary, and in a moment of panic, I unleashed my magic.”

“Always one with a flair for the dramatic. Unfortunately, that will not serve you well in detention, Hunt.”

“Wait. Crewel-sensei, that’s not the whole story,” Trey interrupted. “Rook got me out of a pinch--and he deserves credit for that. He’s also the one that found out where the ivy’s heart was--buried in the floor itself. I didn’t realize until it was too late.”

The professor’s lips pursed into a straight line. “Clover, are you confessing to your own negligence?”

“I am.” He nodded firmly. “I’m the one that deserves the detention.”

“Trey-kun is not responsible!” Rook protested. “He is the one that attempted to set us on the right path. I refused to heed his advice, which led to events escalating.”

“I didn’t listen to Rook when he tried to tell me about what I needed to do.”

“I should have phrased it more concisely.”

“You--”

“Trey-kun--”

“Enough. It is clear to me that both of you contributed to this chaos.” Crewel sighed. “... Hunt, take Clover to the infirmary. I will put out the fire myself.

“... Are you letting us go?”

“Of course not. Once you’ve recovered, Clover... you boys will be restoring plants in the Botanical Garden for the remainder of the semester as punishment.”

“Ahhh, I should’ve known. Riddle’s not gonna like this at all.”

“Chin up, Chevalier des Roses! At the very least, we shall have each other’s company!” Rook laughs, smacking Trey on the back and sending his peer nearly doubling over.

Crewel sighed once more--he was disappointed, but not surprised.

His Science Club puppies still had a long way to go.

#twst #Divus Crewel #Trey Clover #Rook Hunt #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland requests #twisted wonderland scenarios #imagine this

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auroranotsogreat · 4 years ago

Text

Starry Night

Warnings: none!

Type:fluff

Note: Mentioned "y/n" is NOT an underaged person!

Normally, camping with good friends is a nice thing to do at the weekends. But now, it is not weekend and clearly not nice.

The stars were bright as glitter. Y/n could hear the sound of the campfire from inside her tent. The team was asleep in their own tents. Even Todo was snoring.

Y/n was very nervous about tomorrow. Or maybe even the day after tomorrow. The curse y/n attracted was different from many of them. Gojo thought it was a special grade, and wouldn’t attack them alone. So for the least collateral damage, they went camping. Their campsite was in the middle of the woods. The trees didn’t cover the sky so they could see if someone would try to attack from the air. But it required more protection and scout to lookout.

Silently, she stood up. On her toes, she went outside to have some fresh air. The smell of the trees was soothing, maybe it would help her sleep.

With a quick glance, she spotted a guard, but she didn’t know who was that. The campfire almost died down, thus there was no light source except for the stars and the moon.

She suddenly realized the figure laying in front of Nanami’s tent. It was actually Nanami himself. He wasn’t moving at all. She approached him without making any noise. His eyes were closed. His face was very smooth, almost like a child. The only thing that didn’t go away was his frown. Even in his sleep, he was serious. She could see his breathing under his red blanket. He put his hands under his head, as if using them as a pillow. His shirt’s buttons were open. She couldn’t see if they were open all the way.

The cold was unbearable now. Her feet were almost freezing. Without thinking, she approached the blanket’s other end. There was no one else outside their tents. Everyone except Nanami and the guard was smart not to stay outside.

Y/n didn’t want to disturb Nanami’s sleep but she couldn’t manage to keep the pace of her breathing. Heavy breaths after meeting the warmth of the blanket could be heard from the campsite she thought. At last, she calmed herself.

Before drifting to sleep, she smelled Nanami. Which was funny, because even under the same blanket, they were not close but man, he smelled good. The dust and the leafy essence of the woods couldn’t hide the citrus scent of his body wash or perfume. There was something else she couldn’t point out. His own smell. He was refreshing and rusty at the same time.

Y/n didn’t realize she got very close to him. Her nose could touch his arm. She couldn’t help herself this time. She nuzzled his arm. Barely touching him, she found soothe in his smell. Her stomach was flying at the same time, but she didn’t let her senses go away that easily. Nanami wouldn’t return this ‘fancying’ thing.

She always had a thing for him. His smile, which was pretty rare, was making her gazing at him in awe. One time he had adjust her scarf, his fingers had been touching her face. She had wanted more, but never asked for it. He was just being friendly and all. She had stolen very quick touches, many of them were in a training and he must’ve never realized them. It was longing she felt. Longing for someone significantly distant from her, yet so close.

She burned with the urge of touching him. Right there, right now. How would he know? He was fast asleep.

She lifted her head from the floor to look at him sleeping. His nose was moving indistinctly from his constant breathing. The eyelashes were thick and covered his eyes like the red blanket on their bodies.

Y/n lightly caressed his cheek with her index finger. He didn’t move at all. With gained confidence, she put his hand on his open chest. Without even giving any pressure, the skin under her touch froze. With that, she froze too. When his breathing was constant again, she attempted to take her hand off of him.

“Wrong move.” He whispered.

Y/n gasped in shock. He was awake! Could he see her? Did he know who was touching him. She felt her cheeks got warmer and warmer each second.

“Y/n? Is that you? I hope it is you. I hope I am not dreaming again.” His eyes were closed and she thought she hadn’t seen her yet.

She couldn’t say anything. Apparently, he was thinking he’s dreaming. Why would she dare to break the spell?

But Nanami had other plans. He slowly opened his eyes to see the unwanted guest. He turned his head and looked under his arm. He knew exactly whose hair this was. But he didn’t say anything. He waited patiently for y/n to lift his head up to meet his eyes.

Unaware of what was going on, y/n thought he was asleep again and decided to take her and. She removed herself from his skin slowly, but she wouldn’t go to her tent without one last glimpse of him.

And there he was. His eyes were wide open, sleepless and questioning. Her eyes were on the other hand, had the glimpse of shock and horror. What would he say to her? Could he shove her? She couldn’t say. But something was about to happen.

“Hello.” He whispered. And silence.

“H-hi.” She whispered back. Was it cold or his intimidating gaze made her stutter, who knows?

“Are you alright? You seem tense.” He knew what he were doing to her! A glimmer of smile was plastered on his face.

“I am just cold. That’s all” she spat. She didn’t want to sound that angry, why did she?

“You should’ve never left your tent, y/n.” He said silently. “You always put your head in trouble.”

Auch. Y/n felt the broken pieces of her heart.

“You are right. I shouldn’t have. Sorry to bother you and make you work over time. This is not your bed made of the softest material i know. It is wilderness. You can leave if you want. We are many anyway.” She throw the blanket’s end to his side and attempted to stand up. She couldn’t even look at him right now. How could she be so naive?

Y/n felt his soft touch on her arm. “I didn’t mean that. Sorry.” He pulled her to himself. The pulling was so light, almost feathery, for a moment she thought she was leaning in him unintentionally. “I’d like you to stay.” He whispered. “Besides, Gojo is the guard now. You don’t want him to see you towering over me.”

That was true. It could go so wrong while in this mission. Gojo could think that she was a mole who tried to pull them into a trap. She was sort of new in the group. And she was the reason why they were here now. “Okay, i’ll sit.”

“Just lie down y/n. You are tired.” He said, uncomfortable.

Y/n did as he said. He gave him his sweater so that she could use it as a pillow. “You can use the tent if you want.” He said, but he didn’t want y/n to leave him just yet.

“I can sleep better in the fresh air. Still, thanks.”

“My pleasure.” Indeed it was.

Nanami gave her side of blanket back to her. And helped her cover her arms with it. “Sleep tight, y/n. Tomorrow is big.”

She didn’t say anything. The pressure was hard. She hated not knowing what was coming and putting all the crew in danger. And now, could she sleep right beside him? She still tried to ease her breathing. At least she could let him sleep. But the warmth of the blanket helped.

For a second, she thought Nanami was touching her, but she couldn’t say it. “You are freezing.” Someone said to her ear in her sleep. Something warm approached her from behind. “Let’s warm you up.” whispered the soft voice. She tried to wake up, but the soft voice embraced her tightly. “Shhhh. It’s me. It’s okay. Go back to sleep.” A soft kiss, just like the voice, peppered on back of her ear. “I won’t let anything to hurt you. Not even cold.”

His embrace tightened and pulled her closer to him. The scent of her hair, the soft skin almost drove him mad. But he was determined this was only a one time thing. He would continue to admire her from the safe distance later. He wanted to praise this moment and live its every single second.

His touch felt so right on her skin. He could feel her silky skin under his calloused hand. He played with the strands of her hair. He laughed silently when she made funny faces from the feeling of his touch. He buried his face in her neck and drifted off with her smell.

“Wake up, sleepy head! The sun is shining!” This was not Nanami’s voice. In an instant, y/n opened her eyes. She was in her tent. “How?”

“Come on girl! Be quick!” Itadori was the one who tried to wake her up.

“I am up Yuuji! I am coming!” She adjusted her looks and got ready for the day quickly.

When she was out of the tent, Nanami was out of sight. Was it all a dream?

Gojo approached the died out campfire. “Well, this year’s runner up is awake! Now we can train.”

“Ready, y/n?” Said Itadori with a warm smile.

“Born ready.”

#kento nanami #nanamin #nanami kento #gojo satoru #nanami x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fancfiction

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skybiome · 4 years ago

Text

My life, freely given.

tw: panic attack, narration that implies suicidal thinking

---

Techno rubs at the bracelet on his right wrist. Everyone on the server has one. It's a plain, black metal band with three green gems set into it. Well, they start with three gems. Not everyone has three any more.

Death is common on the server. Hell, Techno’s communicator has been alerting him of Quackity dying about once every couple of hours to creepers for the last few days. But normal dying and respawning wasn’t enough for this server. No. In Dream’s own words, if someone died in a ‘plot important fashion’, it sticks. And if they die three times, they might not come back.

That’s what had happened to Wilbur. The black band is still on Ghostbur's wrist every time Techno sees him, but the gems are cracked and grayed out. The same goes for two of the stones on Tommy’s bracelet.

Techno reaches into his inventory and pulls out an iron dagger. It’s edge is dulled, mostly because he uses it to make cuts in planks of wood when bored, but he found something interesting a few days ago. Carefully, he sticks the tip of the dagger under the edge of his leftmost gemstone. A little wiggle and it pops out of its setting.

A shiver runs down his spine, despite his heavy winter gear. Techno holds the life in his hand. It’s warm and fragile. He closes his fist around the gem as Tommy’s yelling echos up from his space below Techno’s house.

The older sibling closes his eyes, sighs, and lets his head thump against the wall behind him. He’s glad that his little brother couldn’t hear the war that his logic and emotions were fighting between his ears. Only the stragglers of the war fought now, with the leading ideals already having come to an agreement and made peace.

Allies are always good, especially if it meant that his family stayed safe. Techno rubs his thumb over the green gem once more. He stood up from where he was sitting on the crafting table and climbed down the ladders to Tommy’s room.

“Heyyyyy, Big T!”

Techno feels a smile slide onto his face. He let it. Tommy is now wearing an antarctic empire uniform. He didn’t need to know that Techno had stayed up for 3 days straight to finish it after he’d first realized that Tommy was staying with him. It was much better suited for the cold weather than the scraps of clothing that his little brother had shown up wearing.

“Hey, Tommy.” His boots land heavy on the concrete. Tommy didn’t like it when he was silent around the house, so Techno has been putting an effort to go against his instinct and start making noise while traversing the cottage.

Tommy sits up from where he’d been reclining on his bed. “What’re we doing today?”

“You aren’t doing much.” Techno raises his hand to cut off Tommy’s protests. “I’m going to go to L’manberg later, but you can stay here and take care of the turtles and bees. Can I see your arm?”

Tommy frowns, but holds his arm out to Techno.

“Other one.”

Tommy swaps arms, and Techno rolls up his brother’s sleeve, revealing the band on his wrist. The elder reaches into his inventory and pulls out the knife. He stops when Tommy yanks his arm out of his gentle grip. His little brother slams into the cobblestone with enough force to make Techno flinch.

Techno’s eyes widen to match the dinner plates of his brother’s. Carefully, he sets the knife down on the floor, and shows Tommy that his hands are empty. Techno can see tremors running through Tommy’s form, even through his layers of clothing. His breath is coming in short, raspy gasps

Techno purposely softens his voice and face, apologizing and saying, “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you what I was doing. It won’t happen again.”

Tommy blinks a few times. He blinks again and actually sees his brother instead of someone else. The tension syphons out of his shoulders and Tommy averts his gaze from Techno, shrinking into himself even more. His breathing is still shaky and uneven.

“I’m sorry.”

Techno shook his head and lowered his hands, but keeping them in Tommy’s view. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Tommy. I promise.” He ignored the dampness around his brother’s eyes.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, but he does swallow and unclench his jaw.

“Can I see your arm again? I won’t hurt you.”

Again, Tommy says nothing. He holds his arm out to Techno, eyes closed, and lets a harsh breath out through his nose, like he’s bracing for something to hurt him.

Techno retrieves the dagger from the floor. Carefully, he turns Tommy’s arm over so that the lives on his bracelet are visible. Two of the gemstones are cracked and gray, stark in contrast to the one green gem, the boy’s one remaining life. Pressing the tip of the blade one of the lost lives’ edges, Techno removes it. He slips the life he took from himself into the notch on Tommy’s wrist.

The older brother knows it’s worked when the younger inhales sharply, eyes snapping open. Techno lets go as Tommy withdraws his arm. He stares at the gem with wide eyes.

Tommy’s breath grows unsteady, and he starts shaking again. He’s clutching his right wrist with his left hand. There are tears in his eyes, but a grin is splitting his face. Before Techno can even open his mouth, Tommy’s arms are wrapped around him.

With a flick of the wrist, the dagger is out of Techno’s hand and in his hotbar. Techno doesn’t register what Tommy is doing, but he knows he shouldn’t have the weapon that close to him. A second later, he feels that Tommy is shuttering against his chest. Techno hesitates, and then returns the hug. They stay there for a minute, Tommy rattling in Techno’s arm’s, face buried in the fur of brother’s cape.

Tommy breaks the embrace first. He shoots upright, one hand on Techno’s shoulder and the other wiping tears off his cheeks. He’s so ecstatic that he’s tripping over his words.

“Techno Techno Techno where did you- how did you- how did you get this?” Tommy’s gaze is bouncing between his brother and the new life he’s been given. He grips his wrist and pushes the gemstone into Techno’s face, like he wasn’t just the one who'd given it to him. “Where did you get this?”

Techno lifts his wrist, showing Tommy his bracelet. “I gave you one of mine.”

Something in his chest grows cold as Tommy’s expression falls. Tommy freezes, and then starts clawing at his wrist. Techno lunges forward, grabbing Tommy by the wrist. He cringes as Tommy freezes in his grasp. A moment later, Tommy shakes it off, and fights against Techno.

“I can’t take this, Techno.” Tommy’s eyes are frantic and his breathing is picking up again.

“You aren’t taking it, Tommy. I’m giving it to you.”

Tommy stops fighting his brother’s hold. Techno can still see his hands twitching, wanting to pull the live out of himself.

“Tommy, look at me.”

After a moment of staring at the band on his wrist, Tommy turns his head towards Techno. He’s looking at his brother’s face, but won’t look him in the eyes.

“You’re not taking anything from me.” Techno removes a hand from Tommy’s wrist and sets it under his brother’s chin. Gently, Techno lifted Tommy’s gaze until their eyes met. “This is my life, freely given to you. I expect nothing in return, except for you to use it to its fullest. Do you understand?”

Tommy blinks, with tears in his eyes. “Yeah,” he croaked.

“Good.” Techno nods and releases Tommy’s other wrist. He hesitates, and then rustles his hand through his brother’s hair. Tommy jumps at the contact. He blinks twice. A smile breaks onto his face, and he lets out the most infectious laughter that Techno knows. Techno joins in. Next thing he knows, Tommy is moving past him and already halfway up the ladder, yelling, “Now we’re on even playing fields!”

Techno barks a laugh and follows after his brother into their home. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Tommy.”

“Yes it is!”

Techno can hear his chests opening and closing, and let himself indulge in the warm feeling in his chest. Tommy’s starting to recover, and he’s going to help his brother however he can. He thumbs the empty spot on his band, and then moves onto one of his two remaining lives. Phil’s band only had space for one life, but there was someone Tommy cared about who was in danger. But that could wait a few days. Right now, he wants to spend time with his brother.

Even if it involves a lot of cobblestone towers on his front lawn.

#tommyinnit #technoblade #my writing #science is fucking killing me and i am trying to work on when the sun #once my break starts i can work on it more #so please enjoy #i have more thoughts about this #so send asks if youre curious

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bipercabeth · 4 years ago

Text

percabeth | hurt/comfort | 3k | commissioned by @mericatblackwood

a post-TLO fic in which we finally Let Percy Cry

Annabeth doesn’t know what to do with anger—her own or others’. She can take her problems to the sword fighting arena or bury her nose in blueprints for weeks, but she’ll still come away with a tight jaw. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands when they aren’t clenched into fists.

So when the tendons in Percy’s hands strain around his silverware at dinner, when his eyes are downcast and he’s closed off in that I’m-angry-but-trying-desperately-not-to-look-it way, Annabeth can only fumble over a painfully casual attempt at conversation and watch as he retreats to his cabin. He doesn’t even make an appearance at the campfire. The flames have been low in the weeks following the Battle of Manhattan, but they’re rising tonight.

The problem isn’t reading Percy; it never has been. Annabeth knows what’s hurting him and why. It’s the fixing part she struggles with.

continue on AO3

He’s been angry for the better part of a year, often because of the ambiguous impending doom of his sixteenth birthday, but not exclusively so. Annabeth caused more than her fair share of his anger, she knows. Rachel had been there to provide an escape in her place, but Annabeth supposes part of being Percy’s girlfriend means that it’s her who gets to provide solace now. Not that she didn’t before, but. There’s a deeper commitment now. He was always her person—as she was his—but it’s out in the open. She’s the first line of defense—she wants to be the first line of defense from danger, be it physical or emotional.

So Annabeth dons her Yankees cap and sneaks to Cabin 3, replaying the conversation where Percy shrugged and said he’s fine when she tried to call him out. He isn’t fine. She knows that much.

That doesn’t mean she expects to find him curled in on himself, bedsheets tangled around his middle. It shouldn’t be possible to look small in a twin bed, but he looks so small—not at all like the hero the other campers celebrate over the campfire. It’s a stark reminder that he’s only sixteen.

He lifts his head when the door opens, his eyes wide. Annabeth remembers that she’s invisible and knocks her cap off her head. She’ll pick it up later. Right now Percy’s breath stutters at the sight of her, his eyes shining like open wounds.

Annabeth can do dry anger: the cold, unfeeling rage that motivates, propels, inspires. But wet anger—the paralyzing, painful kind you cannot power through—leaves her scrambling for purchase. Annabeth is a runner. She doesn’t sit in anything.

The sheets rustle as Percy closes his eyes and takes refuge in his bed like a dog hiding his wounded paw. Despite his efforts, he cannot disguise his limp.

“Please don’t hide from us,” Annabeth pleads.

“I’m not hiding from you,” he says mildly, not lifting his head from the pillow. “I can’t hide from you.”

“But you came here.”

“I knew you would come.” Percy shrugs, casually stating as fact something Annabeth didn’t know herself until a few minutes ago.

In this moment, Annabeth envies Percy’s connection with Grover. She would kill to have a way to funnel her emotions into Percy’s brain in a way he could understand. All the love and concern she can’t articulate could exist in the world without the struggle of finding the right words.

Still, Percy specified her. Grover is out there at the campfire, probably sensing Percy’s pain like a twinge at the base of his neck, but Annabeth is the one Percy can’t hide from.

The thought propels her to the edge of his bed, sitting in the curve of mattress his torso folds around. His knees press into her right thigh as he shifts to close the space between them. Annabeth realizes with a jolt that he left this space for her to occupy.

On her other side is his face, youthful and soft in the moonlight streaming through the window. Blue light for a blue boy, swimming in blue sheets that should shelter him instead of giving him something to fist his hands in. His arms cage his chest as if his heart is trying to escape it.

Annabeth reaches for his hand, drawing it to rest between hers. If his heart is a burden, it’s not one he has to bear alone. They held the weight of the sky once. They can handle this.

For all their shared burdens, the one that weighs on Percy now is uniquely his. Annabeth is a hero, but not the hero. Shouldering “child of Athena’s final stand” for a few weeks is not the same as “hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap” looming overhead for four years. Percy’s very existence has been dissected and politicized since the moment he was claimed, whereas Annabeth could’ve chosen a quieter, quest-free life if that’s what she wanted. She chose to pick it up. Percy’s choice was to stand under a weight that would otherwise crush him.

It occurs to Annabeth that everyone who has shouldered this burden before him is dead. The heroes whose birth was prophesied, whose death was prophesied, died fighting their battles centuries ago. There are no words for that.

Words are Percy’s strong suit, anyway. He has always known what to say to calm his friends down. Annabeth can’t recall the last time she saw someone do the same for him.

She squeezes his hand and focuses on being here, where it matters.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, knowing he doesn’t. Or rather, knowing he doesn’t want her to have to talk about it.

As expected, Percy burrows deeper into the bed. Half his face is squished in his pillow; the sole eye Annabeth can see fixes on the empty space in front of him. He gives her a noncommittal shrug she doesn’t buy. But at least he won’t lie outright.

Silence follows. It nips at Annabeth’s ankles, nagging her to move, to do something, but she decides to sit with the discomfort. The confession he’s suppressing is a palpable thing: Annabeth watches it stutter in his lungs and claw its way up his windpipe. Percy will tell her when he’s ready, and she’ll be here when he is.

“I’ve been having dreams,” he says, still not meeting Annabeth’s eye. That’s okay, though. He’s getting the words out. That’s what matters, right?

“What kind of dreams?”

Percy grimaces. “Not the useful kind. Nightmares, mostly. About the war.” He doesn’t breathe between the sentences, just grits his teeth.

“It’s over, Percy. The war is over. We can rest now,” she tries.

“They can’t.”

Dread settles over Annabeth, but she asks anyway. “Who can’t?”

“Beckendorf,” he chokes, his hand tightening in hers. “Silena, Castor, Lee, Michael—I killed him, Annabeth. I told the others where to go, and they died because of me, but I killed Michael.”

Annabeth opens her mouth to interrupt, but the names keep coming. Percy steamrolls through the tears, leaving her to watch his anger limp along until it collapses into the worn bed of sadness.

“Ethan shouldn’t have been on Olympus. I should’ve hit him harder, then he might have stayed down. And Zoe—I knew she was going to die. We found out who her dad was, and I knew and I couldn’t do anything. And Bianca wasn’t supposed to stop the automation. It was supposed to be me. She could’ve come home to Nico, and maybe then—”

“Percy…”

He shrinks with each word, looking every inch the child Annabeth found on Half-Blood Hill: bruised, tired, and crying for his mother. “My mom died because of me. I didn’t even save her—I saved the world, because that’s what I had to do. Hades let her go, but she still died.”

Annabeth gapes at him uselessly. To love Percy is to know intimately the amount of guilt and unearned blame he assigns himself, but that doesn’t make it any easier to stomach.

“You saved your mom,” she reminds him. “You saved her and the world. You shouldn’t have had to do either, but you did.”

“But I didn’t save the others.”

“No one could’ve.”

“I should’ve. When you fight the way I can, the people who die around you die because you can’t get to them fast enough. If I had just been faster, I...” He takes a shuddering breath. “Why do I get to survive when they don’t?”

A lifetime of war games and war alike, and that question is the worst thing Annabeth has ever heard. Percy is just laying there, still not meeting her eye, and she doesn’t know how to help him.

Terrified of how he’ll answer that question, Annabeth leans down to kiss him before he can. She tries to pour everything into it despite not having too much experience. Kissing Percy so far has been fun, sweet, and definitely trial and error. Nothing this desperate, this needy. She inhales him like she can steal the painful words from his lungs before he says them.

Annabeth tastes tears and pulls back, terrified that she’s done something wrong. Instead, Percy’s hand catches the back of her neck, keeping her close enough for their foreheads to touch. It’s there, inches away from his trembling lips, that Annabeth finds the words.

“You saved me,” she pants. “From the Furies on the bus, at the Lotus hotel, when Polyphemus knocked me out—” her fingers travel to his grey streak— “when we held up the sky, at Mount St. Helens, on Olympus… Too many times to count. From the first day we met, you gave me hope.” She strokes his cheek and wipes away the tears, feeling her own eyes well up. “Every day. You save me every day.”

Percy clings to her hand on his cheek and releases a deep breath, fully exhaling for the first time all night. “You save me just as often.”

“So let me do it now, yeah?”

Percy looks at her, green eyes wet and wide, and nods carefully. Annabeth sighs her relief against his forehead before pressing her lips there with an aching softness. There is more to say, but she takes a moment to just hold him. The Fates deemed her his anchor to mortality, so anchor him she will.

“You survived because you were saddled with the weight of the world at twelve years old and the gods owe you a fucking break.” She looks at the ceiling, almost daring thunder to rumble. The sky stays silent. “More campers are alive than dead after a war with impossible odds, Percy. You saved so many, but you can’t save everyone. None of them would want you to blame yourself for this. We have to honor their sacrifice—and, in some cases, their choice.”

That breaks him. The last of his anger gives way to painful sobs, the ugly kind that squeeze your lungs like a spasming fist. In this moment, he is not the wounded dog, but rather the limp itself: the awkward cadence of his breath reminiscent of limbs struggling to hold new weight.

“What do you need?” she asks. “What can I do?”

The mattress jostles as Percy scoots closer, freeing up part of the bed. “Could you stay here with me? Wake me up if it gets bad? If you have to go back to your cabin, that’s fine—”

He’s cut off by Annabeth kicking off her shoes and crawling into bed behind him. There isn’t much room on the twin mattress, but she tucks her knees into the backs of his and wraps around him, and they fit well enough. She settles quickly to avoid overthinking, glad for the excuse to be close to him.

This is entirely unfamiliar territory, as Annabeth discovers when she tries to figure out what to do with her hands. She’s never spooned someone before.

Percy senses her hesitation and laces their fingers, pulling her arm around his torso. Annabeth squeezes him tight, like maybe lining up their hearts will calm the frantic beat of his. Between that and her body protecting his Achilles spot, she’s got him.

It’s a little awkward, the silence that follows. They haven’t exactly had pillowtalk before, let alone while calming Percy during a breakdown. Annabeth doesn’t know how to hold him to make all that go away, so she clings to him as tight as she can.

“You’re like a boa constrictor,” he chuckles. It’s a wet, half-hearted laugh that tells Annabeth he still has more to say. He’s at his worst when he’s deflecting.

Still, she moves to loosen up. “Sorry.”

He tugs at her hand. “No! I mean, it’s nice. I feel… safe.” He pauses, his breath deep. “I always feel safe with you.”

Annabeth hasn’t kissed much of him apart from his lips, but she liked the comfort of kissing his forehead. She tightens her grip again and presses her lips to his shoulder, just because she can.

“Sometimes they’re about you,” Percy whispers.

Annabeth lays her cheek on his shoulder, trying to see his face. “What?”

“The nightmares. Sometimes they’re about losing you.”

“Percy, look at me.”

The tension falls from his spine as he flips around, tangling further in the mess of sheets. Annabeth smooths everything out for him before laying on her back and tugging him close. He ends up halfway on top of her: his arm around her waist, her hands in his hair, their legs a tangled mess.

She holds his face, thumbs swiping at his cheeks gently. He may be invulnerable, but he’s a fragile thing. Maybe even more so with the invulnerability.

“Tell me about them.”

“What? No. Annabeth, I’m not— I can’t talk about you d— about losing you. I can’t say those words.”

Annabeth just holds his face and his gaze. “You should. Talk about it here, safe, with me, and maybe it won’t be so bad when you fall asleep. I’ll be here the whole time.”

The tension in Percy’s body is palpable as he resists Annabeth’s coaxing. But slowly, she slips her hands to his scalp and massages him there, leeching the stress from his body as he sinks forward into her. His weight presses Annabeth into the mattress. It’s comforting, having him above her. She can feel every breath he takes, every time his heart beats in his chest.

“We’ve almost died a ton of times, but that was always together.” He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs against her collarbone. “But then on the bridge with Ethan, when you took the knife…”

Percy takes a shuddering breath.

“Sometimes we get you to the hotel and Will can’t help. Or I can’t find Will. Or Blackjack can’t grab you. Or—” his grip tightens around her, and his tears fall on her skin. “Sometimes you, you die right there at my feet. You jump a second earlier, and Ethan hits you in the chest, and I kill him for it. I kill everyone on the bridge. Most times it’s an accident, just the river listening to me, but sometimes… sometimes I don’t know. Both scare me.”

One of Annabeth’s hands moves to his Achilles spot of its own accord. Percy gasps into her neck, where some tears fall as well. He’d fought his way through his confession, coming from somewhere so deep inside him that the deluge of tears was unavoidable. She hopes to distract him from them now.

“You saved me on that bridge,” she reminds him, her free hand scratching lightly at the base of his neck.

“But what if I didn’t?” he breathes. He sounds so small.

“Doesn’t matter. You did. Anything else is a hypothetical.”

“But in the future—”

“Uh uh.” Annabeth’s chin taps Percy’s temple as she shakes her head. “It’s like strategy. You can think and think and think and plan your whole life out, but it’s not real. You never know what’s going to happen until your feet hit the floor. Are your feet on the floor?”

“No,” he grumbles.

“No,” she echoes. “You’re in bed. You get to rest now.”

Percy is still for countless heartbeats. Right when Annabeth thinks he might’ve fallen asleep, he props himself up on one elbow to look at her. Even in the lowlight, Annabeth can make out his puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

“You know you’re my best friend, right?” He sniffles, his nose wrinkling adorably as he does, and his eyes bore into Annabeth’s. “You’re my girlfriend too, but you’re my best friend first. Always.”

Annabeth hears that statement for what it is and grins despite the tears prickling in her own eyes. “And you’re mine. Always.”

A smile breaks out on his face like dawn at this late hour, brightening up the small space between them. Exhaustion sets in to close it, drawing Percy to settle back into Annabeth’s neck with the slow pull of gravity.

They drift off in a bed made to be slept in alone as they share a burden made for one person. Newness tinges the corners of this memory, this moment Annabeth finds herself missing before it’s gone: Percy asleep above her, finally getting the peaceful rest he deserves. Part of Annabeth wants to stay up all night to make sure he gets the most of it, to watch his back as she promised to do, but her eyelids are heavy with sleep in no time.

What sticks with Annabeth is this: Percy’s breath slow and steady against her neck, his heartbeat reliable as ever as it syncs with her own. The world is warm and safe despite all the evidence to the contrary, and that’s what makes this moment untouchable. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, here they are. Together in every way that matters.

#i hurt myself writing this i am not going to lie #if u read this on tumblr all i ask is u give it some love on ao3 bc engagement with tumblr is Trash but i try to keep commissions accessible #commissions #my percabeth #my fic #mericatblackwood

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tsuy4n · 4 years ago

Note

NZHZHSNS HI HELLO UH I JUST REMEMBERED WHAT I ACTUALLY WANTED TO REQUEST— so uh remember that drunk fic that you did? umm, what would the MC's reaction be when she sees the video? and would her interactions with everyone change? anyways thank you !!!

Okay. Okay. So I'm very sorry. I just saw this. Me is busy with stuff and so, yeaaaa! Let's do this!

Drunk: After

"Ugh...My head."

Mc groans out while looking for their D.D.D to check the time.

"Why did I even drink that much??"

They stand up, still half asleep while heading towards their bathroom to fix their self.

"My head feels like exploding. I don't wanna go to school and just stay here to sleep..."

Mc whines but changed their clothes into their RAD uniform and head to RAD nonetheless, after taking the hangover pill that Lucifer left at the table, along with her breakfast which had a note.

"Surprisingly everyone had an agreement of making your breakfast. You must be having a massive headache, so if just want to take a rest for the rest for today, go ahead. -Lucifer."

They chuckle and kept the note with a smile on their face.

"...Why am I having this feeling of disgust towards myself?"

You ask as you shiver, having goosebumps while looking confused.

...

"I regret my decision now."

They grumbled as they walk at the hallway, the noise making her head to ache more.

"I should've just stayed home and lazed around."

Mc continues to grumble, not even realizing a hand coming towards her shoulder.

"Good morning, Mc. Are you feeling okay? I thought you would be staying and resting at home."

Simeon greets then questions with a bright smile.

"Huh? Oh, hey Simeon. And yeah, I'm doing fine..I guess."

They replied, mumbling the last part with a sheepish smile.

"And I just didn't like the thought of missing today's lesson. It's my fault for drinking too much anyways."

Mc felt the shame crawling its way towards them, making them completely confused. Wondering why they're feeling such shame and disgust towards their self.

"Well, if it isn't Mc."

Solomon enters the scene, somewhat looking completely smug as he smiles at them.

"It's great to see you attending RAD. I really expected for you to be resting at the House of Lamentation."

You felt like sweating, and feeling nervous in front of the angel and human sorcerer.

Just what is this heavy shame feeling on my shoulders???

They thought as they stared at the two handsome males, who seemed somewhat shining bright and looking so smug, especially Solomon, the human sorcerer.

"What are you being so smug about?"

Solomon hums as he continues to smile that you even cursed at his handsome face for making your heart so weak, that made you pissed.

"Ah, that's right. You said that we should be giving you some warning before smiling, right?"

You stared at him with wide eyes, confusion completely written all over your face.

"Huh??? What???"

The two of them laughs, finding your confused look adorable for them that it just made them want to tease you more.

"Anyways, don't have a heart attack when one us smiles, okay?"

Simeon says, patting your head that your confusion meter kept rising.

"That's right. Ahaha."

Solomon winks at you, and it seems that an arrow just pierced your heart and...eyes. But, of course, you responded with a small smile.

F*ck.

"Mc!"

Luke runs towards them, smiling brightly as he gives them a hug.

"The demon brothers said that you'll be absent today because you're sick! Why are you here instead of resting? Are you gonna be okay taking classes when sick??"

Mc couldn't help but be in awe at the little angel, thinking he's just the most cute and absolutely adorable being they have seen.

"Of course."

They replied with a soft smile, completely forgetting their head aching somehow.

"Anyways, I'll get going now. See you later guys."

You said your goodbye to the three, now remembering that feeling of shame and disgust once again.

"Did I miss something? I don't remember anything after taking my 7th glass or something."

They take a deep breathe, a small smile showing.

"I'm sure I didn't do anything weird."

Soon you felt someone tap your shoulder, which made you turn around with a hum.

"A pleasant morning, Mc!"

Diavolo greets in a joyful manner, looking completely in a great mood, along with Barbatos. Both of the demons seems to shine brightly like Solomon and Simeon.

"Oh, Good morning, Lord Diavolo."

You simply greeted with a smile, finding them cute looking like that. But Diavolo pouts, making you wonder if you said something wrong.

"So they're not calling me Dia anymore, huh?"

Diavolo mumbles to himself which you raised an eyebrow, wondering what he had just said.

"Hello, Mc. Should you really be attending class today instead resting?"

They chuckle and smile.

"Yea, Don't worry, I'm doing great."

"Would you look at that! It's Mammon and Leviathan!"

The prince shouts with a laugh. The two demon brothers looked up and saw Diavolo, Barbatos and...You.

OMG! It's Mc! Gotta act natural!

"Hi, L-Lord Diavolo, and M-M-M-Mc!"

Levi stutters out, his face bright red, along with Mammon.

"Mc! What're y-y-you doin' here?! Shouldn't y-ya be r-resting at home or s-s-somethin'?"

Mc opens their mouth, an eyebrow rising.

"Uhh..It's lonely and quiet there without you guys, so yeah. And why are you both so red and stuttering so much???"

You put each of your hands on their forehead, checking out the demons temperature if their sick.

"Wow, hot. You two must've caught a cold or something."

Levi backs away, looking like he'll pass out any second because of your hand.

"T-The great Mammon isn't someone w-who'll g-g-get some dumb c-c-cold just like that!"

Mc scoffs and waves her hand.

"Sure, whatever. Don't go complaining when it gets worse. See you later Lord Diavolo, Barbatos, Mammon and Levi."

You walk away from the four of them, now getting weird out about the boys.

The f*ck is happening?? Are they just in a good mood or they're just high or something???

Now all those thinking is making their head ache more again, that it made them groan and grumble.

"Sweetie, Mc! You're here!"

Asmodeus hugs you from behind with a big smile on his face, startling you.

"Being in a place without you is so boring~!"

The avatar of lust whines then giggles.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Whatever."

You push Asmo away making Satan to chuckle lightly, satisfied a little at what you did.

"Why are you getting so touchy? Just what is wrong with everyone today???"

Satan and Asmo stares at each other then laughs.

"Oh, honey. I knew you wouldn't remember anything about yesterday after getting si wasted like that!"

Asmo starts as he takes his D.D.D out, opening its screen.

"That was the most cutest, adorable and the precious thing I have seen of your side so far!"

Satan nods his head, completely agreeing.

"Indeed it was. It was definitely funny and cute seeing you act like that, Mc."

You stared at them with that confused expression once again which you had done many times for today.

"Here, watch this~!"

And so, that is when you felt like stabbing your eyes for seeing such things that you would never think of doing when drunk.

"See?! Especially when you smile! You see how charming thiz b*tch Ish?!"

You cover your eyes, completely bright red as shame, disgust, and embarrassment consumes you.

B*tch?! Did I seriously called Solomon a b*tch?!

They groan, then after that. They seemed to cough out blood and felt their self slowly crumbling, after seeing the scene of them hugging everyone and hearing them asking everyone in the room to marry them.

F*cking end my life.

The video ended which resulted a laughing Asmo and Satan, remembering the incident yesterday and a 100% want to experience it again.

But they flinched when they the lifeless looking Mc, who's soul seems like would leave their body any second now.

"Thank you for making me remember about my shameful and embarrassing actions of yesterday. Now if you would excuse me.."

You said, speaking sweetly with a smile.

"I would like to find a very deep hole and live there for the rest of my life."

They flinched as they saw Mc quickly dash away from them, startling both of them.

"Wha-?! Mc?!"

They both run after you to catch and stop you.

"You can't do that Mc!"

Satan shouts, holding your wrist.

"No! Let me go!"

Lucifer, Belphie and Beelzebub soon arrives, wondering what's that bickering is about.

"What in the Diavolo is happening here??"

Lucifer questions, arms crossed.

"Lucifer! Listen here, Mc wants to burry their self inside a hole!!"

Asmodeus shouts to his older brother.

"I said live! Not bury myself, damn it!"

You stop and stay quiet for a second, making them confused and worried.

"But that'll do much better!!"

...

"Why am I here with you all when I'm trying my best to ignore all of you earlier.."

You said as you sulk on a corner, covering your face.

"Come on, Mc. You shouldn't do that. You're making us sad..You won't be able to see our handsome smiling face."

Your face turns red once again, and you face Solomon.

"Don't tease me..!"

The sorcerer laughs and hugs you.

"Okay, Ahahaha. Here, let me hide you."

Everyone doesn't seem to like what's happening in front of them. Not one bit.

"He's definitely taking advantage of this."

Belphegor deadpans, earning a nod from his twin brother, who's eyebrows both furrowed.

"Yeah."

"Hey! Get away from Mc, you shady sorcerer!"

Mammon shouts, while pointing his finger at him.

"Yeah, get away!"

Luke also shouts, pouting his lips.

"I want to be in the hole of shame."

You grumble as the demons continue to bicker and glare at Solomon.

"Ahaha. Don't worry about what happened last night, Mc. What happened has happened. There is nothing to be embarrassed about."

You stare at Diavolo then laughs flatly.

"Uh, yeah, no. This is why I like to drink alone! I will never have to be worried about what weird stuff I did!"

Simeon chuckles and pats their head with a smile.

"Come on, Mc. No one even hated what you did last night."

Lucifer nods his head, cursing Solomon inside his head.

"Yes, indeed."

"In fact, we all quite enjoyed the affection you gave to all of us."

Barbatos joins as well, grinning. You sunk down, covering your bright red face.

"Well the sober me didn't."

Asmo chuckles and skips towards you, smiling brightly.

"You were so cute last night. Did you know that Mc?"

You deadpan an expression at the demon.

"All I know is that I'm horribly disgusted, ashamed, and embarrassed of myself."

Leviathan shrugs his shoulders while taking his phone out to play with it.

"I know how that feels, lol."

They all turned their heads to glare at the purple head demon.

"Come on, Mc. I'm sure you didn't meant anything you said last night, as much as it hurts to admit."

Diavolo assures, along with a soft smile but somehow looking like a puppy.

"Augh! I tend to be very honest when drunk, so this is killing me!!"

Beelzebub steps forward then stares at you.

"Do you want me to give you some of my warmth, Mc?"

You stare at the large demon and remembers that line you also said to him last night, which made you shiver in disgust at your own self once more.

"From no on, I will be limiting my drinking. 3 shots is enough. No more than that."

They deadpan and spread their arms to hug Beel.

"But why, Mc?! That side of you was absolutely adorable and precious!"

Asmo whines which made everyone to nod in agreement.

"If I ever get drunk, I will blame you Asmo "

The demon shrieks and points at Mammon.

"That's Mammon's job! Not mine! Blame him!!"

"Hey!"

The white haired scoffs and coughs.

"T-The great Mammon a-also...wants some hug...."

You stare at him, wondering what he said.

"You want some bug???"

You stare at him in disgust for asking you for a...bug. Lol.

"Anyways. I need some time alone for the time being. Don't look for me until I show myself to you all."

Mc quickly leaves the room, making the boys to chuckle which only made Luke confused.

And so, for the rest of the day, Mc avoids all of their friends. Not wanting to remember their shameful actions.

"Mc? How are you doing?"

Satan questions as the brothers continues to do their thing, but is actually listening to what they'll be answering.

"Huh? Oh, I'm doing great."

They replied with a big smile.

"Besides for the fact about what I did last night is eating me up, so yeah. I'm doing absolutely great."

Everyone discussed at chat after having dinner with their human.

"Then it would be best to not bring up what they did or about what happened last night."

Diavolo informs, which everyone responded with a demoji nodding its head. And before Diavolo puts his D.D.D down, he chats one last time.

"Have a pleasant night everyone. Take good care of Mc. Good bye."

#obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me demon brothers #obey me undateables #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me simeon

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squeeneyart · 4 years ago

Text

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 24

AO3

Beta reader as always is @thesnadger!

Keeping busy makes the day go by.

Martin and Jon discuss household chores.

Martin took great care to not make too much noise as he walked down the stairs. He still avoided the creakiest steps, and down he went as quiet as the house would allow.

He didn’t wonder whether the night before had been a dream. His dreams weren’t like that, so vivid and specific. They weren’t narratives he could make sense of, if he remembered them at all. On waking, he was usually left with the anxious certainty that he had made a horrible mistake or had forgotten to do something important. But that night had been real.

Still, when he made it to the ground floor he peeked in the downstairs toilet to make sure Jon’s clothes were hanging on the shower rod along with the small bag he’d been carrying. Those items were present. What he didn’t find was the seal skin.

Martin continued to the living room door. Curled up into a tight ball, Jon remained buried in the blanket and couch cushions. Martin let loose the breath he’d been holding. He continued on to the kitchen to make his breakfast in silence.

It was nothing to dwell on. Jon must’ve stowed the coat somewhere while Martin was asleep. They hadn’t known each other that long, so it wouldn’t do to keep something so important openly hanging in the shower when Jon had had such a scare with the thing. He’d trusted Martin enough to tell him the truth. It didn’t matter that Jon had squirreled the skin away in the dead of night.

Had Jon believed what he’d said about his mother leaving? Was it suspicious that she was gone?

Toast popped up hot and ready, making him jump. He looked back into the living room, checking if the noise had been enough to wake Jon, but the man was sound asleep in his little cocoon. Perhaps all of the caution wasn’t necessary with someone who was sleeping well for the first time in weeks. Longer, if his habit of calling without any thought to the time was any indication.

He should’ve checked on Jon. Even if he hadn’t had reason to suspect anything it’s what he would’ve appreciated in Jon’s place. Just because he hadn’t felt like making the effort-

Would it have helped, though, if Tim and Sasha were ready to cover things up? What excuse could they have given except that Jon had lost his mobile or switched numbers and hadn’t given out his new one yet? He hadn’t had a real reason to pry into Jon’s business. A barely established friendship didn’t count.

He could have tried anyway. Hopefully letting Jon stay would make up for it, even if there was no bed to offer.

While he wasn’t against letting him use his own bed in theory, Martin knew he was too bloody tall to sleep comfortably on the old couch all night. If things went on long enough it could be discussed, but it was better for both of them to get sleep.

Hers didn’t count.

Thinking that far ahead wouldn’t do any good, so he pushed his mess of thoughts to one side and focused on eating breakfast and scribbling onto a small piece of paper.

‘Jon,

Help yourself to food. Be back in the evening.

-Martin’

Martin considered the note for a moment, then scribbled his number at the bottom.

‘For emergencies.’

What emergencies he could help with he couldn’t say, but he left his number all the same. The chance of Jon having it memorized was slim to none and it wouldn’t have been fair to keep Jon with no contact at all. It was the best excuse Martin could hope for.

He gently laid his plate in the sink in one final attempt to keep the silence, and got ready to leave.

Jon didn’t call him at any point that day. And rightly so, following prior agreements of safety and secrecy. It was fine, no calls meant no emergencies, but as the hours passed it was easy to forget the outside world and its greater goings-on. The window on the front door wasn’t much of a reminder, not with how tiny and far away it was, and not with the crappy weather blocking any light other than what could seep through the endless grey.

The wall clock was placed in an awkward location from where he sat, so timekeeping felt like guesswork. He’d stopped checking the clock often to avoid the disappointment of finding himself only five minutes closer to leaving. It could be any day of the week if he kept his mobile out of sight.

But he could feel lunch time. He could feel when he was to climb the stairs and complete his tasks by muscle memory. And he knew in his bones when he was meant to leave.

In the dark of the evening the timelessness clung to him. It wasn’t until he got to the bottom of the cliffs and saw the windows lit up from the inside of his home that he felt himself settle back into the present. There was a person in his house, and for a while he stood back by the forest path and stared at the little square of light that was his kitchen window.

He felt like an intruder, a spy peering in through his own kitchen window from afar, and it took a particularly large gust of rain-splattering wind in his face to get him moving again.

It was his house. There was just a person in it other than himself.

The smell of cooked food was the first thing he noticed when he walked inside, even before he saw the small and scuffed brown shoes on the rug, or the thin jacket on the end hook he normally used. Something was being cooked, fried, and he spent a minute on the front rug not knowing how to proceed.

From the kitchen, he heard a tentative, “Martin? Is that you?”

“Oh! Yeah, it’s me.” Finally placing the damned coat somewhere, he slipped off his shoes and walked toward the kitchen.

Jon peeked his head through the kitchen doorway, wariness falling from his face as he saw Martin for himself. “Barely heard the door open over the wind outside. How were things today?”

“Fine, I guess? What’s-” Martin looked over Jon’s head and saw a pan hissing on the stove, alongside a boiling pot of water. “What’re you making?”

“Something easy and not made of fish,” Jon replied, heading toward the stove top. “Hope you don’t mind, I used some of the chicken in the freezer and box pasta. Should be enough for the both of us.”

Head running on empty, Martin could only nod and take a seat at the kitchen table, threading and unthreading his fingers in front of him. It felt wrong to be sitting there in his own kitchen without a task, but Jon had already put in the time and effort to make dinner. Still, his hands were painfully idle in his lap.

He said quietly, “Smells good.”

From the stove, Jon raised an eyebrow but kept his eyes on the pan in front of him. “I’d hope so. Can’t go much more basic than this.” He lifted the pan to show breaded chicken frying away.

“Still, it’s nice of you. Thanks.”

“Mm.” He flipped the stove off and went to strain the noodles. “Anyway, now that I’m awake, thank you for letting me stay the night. Hopefully this helps make up for my sudden appearance.”

“It’s no trouble. Would’ve liked more warning, though.”

Jon frowned. “Well… I would’ve called if I could.”

It didn’t feel like a purposeful accusation, but it stung anyway. “Can’t change things now. Speaking of calling, though… Did you want me to get in touch with Tim or Sasha about this? I know you said you wanted to wait until they were here, but I don’t know when that’ll be.”

“No, not yet.” Jon placed a strainer full of noodles back over the pot and leaned against the counter. “Call me over-cautious, but I don’t trust anything traceable right now. I’d considered calling Georgie over your phone line to pass on a message, but I don’t think her going in a second time would fly under the radar.”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Martin said, “So until they get here…”

“Until then, I’d like to stay here. We can explain things to Tim and Sasha, figure out your situation, and then-” His face fell. “I’m not sure what comes after that.”

In the silence that followed, Jon busied himself with assembling two plates of food, turned in such a way that Martin couldn’t see his expression. It was an uncomfortable quiet that ate away at the composure he’d managed to pull together throughout the work day.

When Jon set the plate down in front of him, he jumped in his seat.

Jon’s brows scrunched together. “Are you all right?”

“Just… tired, is all.”

“Right. So-” Jon set his own plate down and sat on the other side of the table, a perfectly natural choice of seating. “We didn’t talk for long last night. I know part of what you’re going through isn’t- it’s not by business, but if I’m going to help then I need to know if you’ve noticed any changes, with the lighthouse or with- with other things.”

Martin stared down at his dinner. It was plain, breaded chicken with noodles. Smelled a bit of lemon and garlic.

“Everything’s fine. Nothing’s changed besides what you already know.”

It was fine. The taste was about what he would’ve expected from the smell, and it was better than anything he’d been planning to make with his remaining energy. It was a nice thing for Jon to do. He forced each bite down through the sting of his throat.

“It tastes all right?” Jon asked casually.

Martin nodded with a raise of his eyebrows, taking another bite of chicken.

“Good. I’m not out of practice.”

After that, the only sounds remaining were those of clinking silverware and the beating of rain on the kitchen window.

It should’ve been nice, but as Martin ate the pain in his throat only grew, spreading through his head and upper chest. It was nice that Jon had made dinner, and he’d kept it simple enough that even Martin could pay it back in the future. Something as tiny as this shouldn’t have made him feel anything other than full. Instead his head pounded behind his eyes.

“You… You don’t have to eat it,” Jon said. When Martin looked up he was met with an expression of mild exasperation. “It’s fine if you don’t like it. I’m not holding you at gunpoint. Though if I’m going to be living here we should probably settle what we each don’t like.”

“What?” God, that wasn’t a pleasant sound, especially with food still in his mouth. Martin swallowed down hard, realized he had nothing to drink, and stood up. “I need some water. You?”

Thrown off somewhat, Jon sputtered, “N- Well, yes, but-”

“Great.” Martin strode across the kitchen and grabbed two glasses from the cabinet to fill in the sink. As he held one under the faucet, he noticed there were no dirty dishes underneath.

From behind he could hear Jon shift in his chair. “It’s really not a big deal if you don’t like it.”

With two full glasses he returned to the table, taking a sip of his own and then setting them both down. “What is? No, right, yeah, dinner tastes fine. Don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Martin, that’s not very convincing when you were just staring at it like it was a lump of mud.”

“I wasn’t-” He took his seat and reached internally for some excuse with no luck. What kind of faces had he been making? Reaching for his fork, he said, “It’s fine. Good. It’s good.”

“There’s something else, then.”

“I… The food is good. It was very nice of you to make it.” His throat went tight and he said no more.

Frowning at his meal, Jon said defeatedly, “Okay. If you say so.”

The rest of the meal passed in silence. If he made any other sour faces then Jon ignored them, and Martin did his best to be more aware of what his eyes and mouth were doing while eating as quickly as he could manage.

It wasn’t soon enough, but he finally finished and put his plate in the sink. God, he’d barely gotten home and was ready to run upstairs and hide away for the night. Was eating dinner with someone always so exhausting? The answer came easily to mind, but this felt worse than meals spent with stubborn silence or bitter exchanges.

Jon had wanted to be nice, and-

“So, we should discuss… things. Not the food-” Jon said from directly behind him, dirty dishes in hand. He inched around Martin to place them in the sink. “-but we need to talk about how it’s going to work, me being here. I don’t want to be a nuisance.”

Martin cleared his throat, taking a step to the side to give Jon some room. “You’re not a nuisance. You didn’t have much of a choice in this, if any.”

“And you didn’t ask to have me knocking in your door. Here, let me-” Jon rolled up his sleeves and got to work scrubbing the dishes.

Martin bristled. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m the one who made dinner.”

Martin’s face scrunched. “I don’t think that’s how it works. You made dinner, so I should clean up.” He watched with some irritation as Jon continued his task.

“Next time, then. I already got a head start this morning.”

An even better reason for Martin to be the one to wash up after dinner, but that ship had sailed without him apparently.

“Look, I’m-” He pushed through the tightness in his chest. “I’m glad you’re here, all right? Better than you getting eaten by a shark or something.”

Jon squinted at him. “So… we’re fine?”

“What? Yeah, ‘course we’re fine!” In spite of everything, a laugh crept into Martin’s voice. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

A troubled look crossed Jon’s face. “No, you’re right. The last few weeks got to me I think, not seeing people.”

With some hesitation, Jon continued, “If it makes you feel better, I’m glad to have something to do.” He paused, sudsy glass in his hand. “Sitting around all day doesn’t come naturally to me, and I’ve been all but useless for weeks.”

Ah. Martin felt the indignation seep out of his jaw and shoulders, leaving him rather deflated all of a sudden. All that bristling on his part and Jon had only been bored to the point of doing chores.

“That’s... not your fault,” Martin replied quietly. He leaned back against the counter top and tapped his fingers on the rounded edges. “But okay. Sorry.”

Resuming the job at hand, Jon kept his eyes down and stayed quiet. There wasn’t much to wash off of the plates, but he was diligent in scrubbing down the frying pan until not a speck of grease remained. His fingertips began to prune.

Eventually, he spoke up. “As I was saying before, we should talk about me staying here because of situations like this. If you have… particularities with housekeeping, I should know.”

Martin rolled his eyes. “It’s not a- whatever, do what you like. I suppose it’s better to live with someone who keeps clean.”

“As much as the average person,” Jon said, rinsing off the last bit of soap from a plate. He reached out to grab a hand towel. “Don’t expect me to always be this eager for chores.”

“What, is the excitement wearing off already?” He’d been aiming for a light, teasing tone but ended with dry judgment.

“You know me, always looking for the next thrill,” he deadpanned.

Martin leaned back on the heels of his hands. “Jon, you’re a professional ghost hunter.”

Jon tossed the towel back onto the sink. “I am not. I research the paranormal and complete necessary field work.”

“By looking for static in recordings and breaking into buildings.”

“That’s not- your situation is a special case. I assure you, my regular days are based almost entirely around paperwork and fact-checking.” He walked into the living room and with a scowl plopped onto the couch. After a moment his mouth untwisted into a small frown. “They were, anyway.”

Martin followed behind and looked at him, looked at the lines on his forehead and under his eyes, at his bouncing knee. He looked better than he had the day before, but it would take more than a single good night to make up for weeks of wandering and disconnection. Another apology sat behind his own lips, but he let it die as the useless thing it was.

There was one thing he could help with. Walking over to the ancient desk in the corner, he picked up a bulky old laptop from the drawer and brought it over to the couch with him. “Probably should’ve mentioned it in the note, but I do have wi-fi. Technically.”

The laptop was old. He’d bought it for himself years back but with the weak signal he got it wasn’t easy to deal with, and in his mind the very concept of social media was never going to work for him. So, it was largely a clunky and underused alternative to his phone. It sat heavy on his lap and he remembered why he rarely bothered with it.

Jon’s eyebrows shot up, and he scooted closer on the seat. Voice dripping with relief, he said, “I’m shocked you can get a signal down here.”

The sudden proximity made Martin’s heart skip. He opened the computer on his lap and focused on the screen. “Mind you it’s not good wi-fi, but it should help pass the time. Still has a disc drive as well.”

It took far longer than he would’ve liked for the thing to boot up, but against all odds it reached the desktop with its default background and sparse folders. He really hadn’t done much with the thing, had he? Perhaps when everything was done with he could sell it.

For the time being, though, Jon was clearly itching to get his hands on it, so after a quick check that it still connected to the internet he passed it over.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that he immediately hopped onto a site for sifting through journal articles, but Martin stifled a laugh. Whether pushed by professional diligence or personal interest, Jon was too engrossed to notice.

With a small sense of accomplishment, Martin pushed himself onto his feet and moved toward the hall. He made it halfway across the room before he was noticed.

“You’re not going to bed already.”

The tone of the sentence sat between incredulity and a statement of fact, and it gave Martin pause. When he glanced back, Jon was still looking at the laptop screen.

“I mean… no, I was just going to get into pyjamas?”

“Okay. There was a short documentary on architecture I found when I was still doing research at my flat. It might be helpful to our ends.” He typed something and made a face. “It might also be complete bunk, but I should be able to track it down while you’re upstairs.”

It was enough of a dismissal that Martin could only say, “Oh. Um, all right?” Then he left the room in a hurry, as he apparently had things to do that night.

Back upstairs he went with a new if unexpected purpose to change out of his work clothes, still skipping the loudest steps as best he could.

Around the time he’d managed to slip on some flannel pyjama pants and an old t-shirt, tears had leaked from his eyes and then ceased almost immediately. There were no sobs to choke back, just streaks of warmth on his cheeks that dried as quickly as they’d formed.

He rubbed his face with the back of his hand, grateful that his eyes wouldn’t be red and puffy, and then walked back downstairs.

#tma #the magnus archives #breathe in the salt #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #sasha james #timothy stoker #peter lukas #jonmartin

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itubainaretro · 4 years ago

Text

TW // mentions of violence (the attack)

Sunday, November 15th 2020 - 22:53

Maybe right now Sander and Robbe are still together in Sander’s house, putting the last of their dinner away and almost done with cleaning the kitchen so they can head to Sander’s room and get settled for the night.

Usually, Robbe spends Sunday nights at home, with his mama, finishing some last minute homework and assignment that he had left unattended during the week, but not tonight. Tonight he’s staying at Sander’s place, just like he has been doing since Friday night, and he still thinks it’s cute how Sander made sure to ask Robbe’s mama himself if there was any problem with Robbe spending the entire weekend with him, including Sunday night, more than a week ago. She said there was no problem as long as Robbe finished his school work on time and really went to school on Monday morning and not skipped classes to stay with Sander. Robbe promised his mama he would be responsible and he made sure to keep that promise, finishing all his school work by Thursday and leaving for Sander’s house Friday afternoon after giving his mama’s cheek a kiss and hugging her goodbye.

Robbe didn’t think too much of it when Sander asked him, thinking maybe Sander just missed him and wanted to spend some alone time with him since his parents would be gone for the weekend so they would have the house all to themselves, besides, he would never pass up the opportunity to spend all the time he could with Sander, so he simply agreed to it, without giving it a second thought.

Until he realised the date.

Things changed when Robbe woke up today and noticed what day it was and what happened to them a year ago. Their first date. The countless hours they spent at the bar, their bar, talking, getting to know each other, drinking, flirting and taking silly photos of one another. The breathtaking kisses they shared outside. And how it all came to an abrupt end.

Robbe tried not to think too much about it, he tried to keep those memories out of his brain, locked in a box he shoved at the back of his mind and pretended to forget it existed. Instead he tried to focus on the good parts of the night, like when he got to the bar and saw Sander waiting for him by the bike racks with the most beautiful smile on his face, or when they entered the bar and Sander held the door open for him like a true gentleman, or when he pulled that stupid magic trick he learned when he was a kid and Sander found it amusing despite telling Robbe to stop, a sweet smile adorning his face.

It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but he managed, being easily distracted by Sander’s presence and all the plans he had for them throughout the day.

After waking up they watched an old movie, one of Sander’s favourites, in Sander’s bed, and stayed there cuddling for what felt like a thousand years, until their bellies started making weird noises, signaling it was time for them to get up and get some breakfast in their systems. They spent the rest of the morning listening to music and cleaning the mess they made in the kitchen yesterday, during their spontaneous instagram live to try out their new Croque 2000 machine, that was left there to be taken care of later after Sander’s near death experience choking on a tomato. They laughed while remembering Sander’s face after getting rid of the offensive tomato and hugging Robbe, thanking him for saving his life and promising to not try that ever again. Robbe couldn’t stop himself from kissing him and calling him a dork.

For lunch they had some leftover pizzas they had had on Friday night and sometime during the afternoon, after taking a nap together in front of Sander’s TV while some random documentary played as background noise, Sander requested Robbe’s help in the kitchen again so they could start making dinner. Sander decided to go all out and make them pasta from scratch and it was a delight to see them both messing up until they finally got it right and managed to not only make a decent meal from scratch but a delicious one at that.

So right now they’re almost done with the dishes, Robbe washing and rinsing everything and Sander drying them and putting them back in their rightful places.

After rinsing the last of the cutlery, Robbe washes his hands and waits for Sander to finish drying and putting everything away, leaning on the counter and smiling as he sees Sander shaking his head to the music that plays softly from his phone.

As soon as Sander puts away the last fork he was drying he absentmindedly throws the dishcloth somewhere near the table and grabs Robbe’s waist and pulls him into a kiss. It takes Robbe a bit by surprise but he soon after follows Sander’s lead, opening up to him as soon as he feels Sander’s tongue grazing his bottom lip, asking for entrance. It’s urgent, fast, all consuming and all Robbe can think about, feel and smell is Sander, Sander, Sander.

They make their way to Sander’s room, closing the door out of habit, and Sander pushes Robbe against it to kiss him again. It’s another urgent kiss, but this time it feels desperate, like they’re both trying to hold onto something they don’t know how to name. It feels off.

Sander is the first one to break the kiss, breathing heavily and leaning his head against Robbe’s with his eyes still closed. He takes a deep breath and Robbe waits for him to say something, gently caressing his neck from where his hand had found its way to earlier, hoping it soothes him.

Sander shakes his head, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Robbe whispers, “it’s okay.”

“No,” Sander shakes his head again, “it’s not.”

Robbe pulls away a little, trying to search for Sander’s eyes, but he still has them closed. He caresses his thumb across Sander’s laugh lines and hopes he understands what Robbe wants from him. Sander opens his eyes but doesn’t meet Robbe’s gaze, looking down instead.

“San, look at me,” Robbe tries again. “Please?”

Sander finally looks at him and the sight of Sander’s defeated green eyes is enough to make Robbe’s heart break.

“What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Robbe shakes his head. “Sander, there’s nothing to apologise for. What’s going on?”

“Yes, there is,” Sander nods. “Tonight I wanted to show you how that night was supposed to go, how it was supposed to have ended,” his voice is barely a whisper. “But I don’t think I can.”

Robbe takes a sharp inhale of breath and silence falls between them.

After a few seconds Sander breaks the silence. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for bringing it up and I’m sorry for that night as well.” He sounds choked up.

Robbe shakes his head and engulfs Sander in a hug. “Sander, please, it wasn’t your fault,” he whispers in his neck. “It was never your fault.”

Sander holds him tight and both of them can feel the other’s tears making a wet trail in their clothes the moment they both break down crying.

“And we were both thinking about it the whole day today, so don’t apologise for bringing it up either,” Robbe’s voice is hoarse.

They stand like that, just holding each other for a long time, until Sander pulls away a little bit and kisses Robbe’s forehead, disentangling them from the hug and leading them to his bed.

When they get settled, side by side, Robbe is the first one to speak. “Do you want to talk about it?”

They never properly talked about that night, about how they felt or how hard it was, avoiding all the pain that came with the memory of it, just that they shouldn’t let the existence of close-minded people allow them to make their world smaller, but Robbe thinks it’s about time they do, as painful as it sounds.

Sander nods.

“I tried helping you, but I wasn’t fast enough,” Sander starts. “I’m sorry about that.” His eyes are still gleaming with the tears he shed earlier. “And I’m sorry we had to go through that, I wished it had never happened...”

Robbe grabs his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“But most of all I’m sorry for what I said and how I treated you after”, Sander continues. “That wasn’t a case of shit happens, Robbe. It could’ve cost us our lives and we should’ve gone to the police, and I know it’s no excuse, but I was afraid. I was so scared, Robbe. I didn’t want to relive that night ever again and just the thought of having to tell someone what happened and go back to those memories, tracing step by step of what and how everything happened killed me, that’s why I told you we shouldn’t go. I’m so sorry.”

Robbe hugs Sander closer and lets his head rest on his shoulder, trying to give him some sort of comfort and seeking some for himself too. He feels Sander dropping a kiss to his hair before he takes another breath and speaks again.

“And the thing with Britt, I….”

Robbe squeezes Sander’s hand. “San, it’s okay.” Because they’ve already talked about that, and Robbe doesn’t want to make Sander talk about all the things that hurt him, hurt them, all at once if he’s not ready for it.

Sander musters up enough courage and goes on anyways. “Somehow I made myself believe it was all my fault and that you’d be better off without me, safer... and I couldn’t bear the thought of something ever happening to you again, Robbe, so I had to keep you away from me. I deliberately tried to push you away, even though I knew it would hurt you, because I thought you being with me would hurt you much more, and I couldn’t have that. That’s why I went to that party and kissed Britt and let her post those stupid photos. As soon as I did it, though, I knew it was wrong. But there was no going back then, it was already too late…” Sander shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

Robbe starts crying at the same time he feels Sander’s tears falling down on him, so he turns around and climbs into Sander’s lap to hug him as close as humanly possible in that moment. Sander squeezes his shoulders, burying his face on Robbe’s neck, and doesn’t let go.

After some time, when their tears have subsided and they’re just trying to find comfort in each other’s arms Sander rearranges them so they’re sitting in a more comfortable position, facing each other.

Robbe bites his lips before finding the courage to talk too. He breathes in and out twice before he starts. “The first thing I need you know is that it wasn’t your fault, Sander. None of it was, you know that, right?”

When Sander nods, he continues. “Please believe it.”

Robbe gives him a lingering kiss on the forehead before speaking again. “I wish it had never happened to us either and I’m sorry it did. I’m sorry I couldn’t unlock my bike fast enough or reach you when those guys came for us, I was so scared too...” he takes a deep breath. “And I’m sorry we couldn’t support each other the way we needed to in the aftermath.”

Sander grabs his hands and gives it a squeeze, interlocking their fingers and resting their hands on his lap.

“But the way we reacted wasn’t our fault either, Sander. We both went through a huge trauma that night and what we did afterwards was us barely trying to find a way to cope with whatever was being thrown our way. It hurt, yes. You hurt me, but deep down I always knew there was a deeper meaning behind the things you did. You weren’t doing those things out of spite to purposefully hurt me. You’re not cruel, San. I know you and I know your heart, and I know we weren’t together for long back then, but I knew you then as well. And I knew you wouldn’t want to hurt me just because.”

Robbe disentangles one of his hands from Sander’s grasp and lifts it up to caress his cheek. Sander nuzzles into it and Robbe smiles weakly. He brings their faces close and rests his forehead against Sander’s.

“But if you need to listen to this to make peace with it I’ll tell you: I forgive you, Sander,” Robbe says sincerely. “I had already forgiven you back then, when you found your way back to me in the flatshare on that Friday night,” he caresses Sander’s cheek again. “But I need you to do something for me too.”

“Anything.” Sander answers in a beat.

“Forgive yourself too,” Robbe whispers.

Sander nods and hugs Robbe tight against his chest, Robbe’s fingers finding their way to Sander’s hair like it’s second nature and staying there for a long time.

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about this,” Robbe whispers some time later against Sander’s ear. “What happened that night hurt the both of us, Sander, and if you ever feel the need to talk about it you can talk to me, no matter how much it hurts me. I know it hurts you too.” His voice breaks. “But you’ve always been there for me when I needed you and I want to be there for you too, okay?”

Robbe can feel Sander nodding against him.

“We will get through this together,” Robbe reassures Sander. “It may have taken us a whole year to talk about it, but we finally did it and now we can finally start healing from this together, like we always do.”

Sander’s voice trembles when he speaks. “I know.”

“I love you, and nothing will ever change that, okay? Please remember it.”

“I love you too. More than anything.”

Robbe closes the distance between them and kisses Sander.

They spend the rest of the night in bed curled around each other underneath the covers, still talking about that night, but trying to focus on the good part of it instead. Trying to separate the traumatic event from the happy memories they had from their first date.

“I was feeling like the luckiest man in the world, Robin,” Sander smiles down at Robbe, still playing with his hair that’s going in a million different directions now since Robbe’s been resting his head on his chest for the past hour. “You looked so pretty in all those lights.”

Sander can feel Robbe’s smile before he sees it. “Despite us only having had that one beer I think I have never felt drunker in my life than I felt that night,” Robbe admits, looking up at Sander, an adorable smile adorning his face. “I guess maybe I was just love drunk.”

Sander can’t help leaning down to give him a quick kiss.

“I know I keep talking about us going back to that bar until it feels right again because it’s our bar, but you know we have all the time in the world, right?” Sander asks. “It doesn’t have to happen now, or a week from today, or even in the next 10 years, okay? I don’t care if it takes us our whole lifetimes to go back there again, I just want you to feel safe. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“I know,” Robbe reassures him, nodding. “We’ll take things day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute.” He smiles. “We’ll get there eventually.”

Sander nods. “And I’m sorry to bring the topic back,” he says hesitantly, “but if we still want to report what happened to the police we can. There’s no expiration date for these things and it doesn’t matter if they’ll catch whoever did that to us or not, we still have a right to let the police know what happened to us.”

“Thank you,” Robbe whispers. “I know it won’t be easy to talk about it, for neither of us, and I actually don’t even know if I’m ready to talk about this with anyone else besides you for now, but thank you for letting me know.” He rearranges himself in the bed so he can be on Sander’s level and look him in the eyes, both boys now laying on their sides. “When we’re both ready we’ll do it. Together.”

Sander nods and gives him a soft kiss.

Robbe’s hand travels up to Sander’s face, gently caressing the small scar he has by the side of his eye, making Sander close his eyes at the soft touch. “Thank you for being so patient with me...” Robbe whispers so close to Sander’s mouth that both boys can feel the vibrations of the words on their lips. “... and thank you for tonight.”

Robbe can feel Sander’s small smile on his own lips when he speaks. “There’s no need to thank me, I love you.” He emphasizes his words with a kiss. “And the night didn’t go exactly as planned, so…” He trails off.

“Maybe not, but it happened the way it was supposed to happen this time,” Robbe says. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, San. I’m exactly where I want to be. Laying in your bed with you, not even an inch separating us from each other,” he reassures him. “I feel like talking about this has made my heart the calmest it’s ever been,” he confesses.

“Mine too,” Sander agrees, smiling.

“See?”, Robbe smiles genuinely at Sander. “I’m happy and I hope that you’re happy too.”

“I am,” Sander’s smile is the most beautiful thing Robbe has ever seen in his life. “I really am.”

#wtfock #wtfam #robbe x sander #sobbe fic #wtfock fic #tw: mentions of violence

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aliceinreverselondon · 4 years ago

Text

Cheater (Bruno Bangnyfe x reader)

That damn buzzing sound was driving you crazy. In the past few days, you’d begun to hear Bruno’s phone buzzing more and more frequently, and you could tell it wasn’t work-related. He kept avoiding your eyes whenever you asked him if everything was okay which made it clear he was hiding something. Normally you weren’t the jealous type but with his history, you couldn’t help but assume the worst.

One evening when he left to take a shower and you once again heard that buzzing sound, you quickly picked up his phone to see what was going on. Since he usually unlocked it with face or fingerprint recognition and you didn’t know his password either, you could only rely on the notification on the lock screen. But no luck. Bruno wasn’t an idiot, he changed the settings so the content of the notification would be hidden.

The phone was back on the nightstand by the time he returned with a wolfish smile on his lips. “I missed you in there,” he told you as he lied down next to you. “It’s been such a long day. I couldn’t wait to come home to you.”

“Well, now you’re here.” You fucking liar, you added in yourself. “Oh, I know you said you’d probably be free all weekend and we could spend it together, but I promised to have lunch and watch a movie with the girls tomorrow.”

You tried to sound like you felt really bad about changing your plans, hoping in the end he would walk into your trap. Because this was a trap: you’d only asked your friends to spend the rest of Saturday afternoon with you earlier that evening. Based on your previous experience with him he would use this opportunity to meet up with that woman. All you had to do now was getting evidence to prove he was cheating.

“It’s okay,” he said, successfully snapping you out of your thoughts. “I know you don’t meet as often as you used to. Maybe I’ll use this time to hang out with Rickenbacker then.”

While he slowly repositioned himself to be on top of you and you saw those bright blue eyes again, you began to question your judgment. What if you were just being paranoid and he wasn’t hiding anything? After all, he hadn’t become distant lately and he still kissed and touched you like he always did. You hated this. All it took to turn you into some stupid, naïve schoolgirl was one kiss.

But he knew this perfectly well. If he knew you were suspicious, maybe he used sex to make you forget about your little theory. For now, you decided to play along but the alarm was still ringing in the back of your mind so you wouldn’t forget what you suspected he was doing behind your back.

A few hours later you woke up to the all too familiar buzzing sound, although this time you could also feel it. Bruno didn’t move, he kept sleeping with an arm around your waist, so you tried to move very carefully as you looked around. When your eyes fell on his arm he had wrapped around your body, you suddenly remembered: it was his watch you felt vibrating. He was tracking his sleep, this is why he never took it off at night. And for your luck, he saw his notifications on it but unlike on his phone, he couldn’t hide its content.

Making sure you wouldn’t wake him up, you quickly checked the notifications. It was a message from a woman you hadn’t heard of before, confirming to meet him the next day. You were right then, he was cheating on you.

After this, it was hard to act like everything was okay. Bruno was talking about his plans for the evening during breakfast, but all you could think about was what you should do now. Was there a chance he would get bored of her and stay with you? Or was history repeating itself? Either way, you had to stay calm and smile while you figured that out. You couldn’t even tell your friends about it because we told you so was the last thing you wanted to hear.

Everything changed in the afternoon, though. When he kissed you, you could smell that bitch on him. What an idiot, he should’ve taken a shower. You took a few steps back to build some distance and buried your hands in your hair. Well, you clearly couldn’t ignore it.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly.

“Does she know you have a girlfriend?” you asked angrily. “Or did you tell her what you had told me back in the day? You know, that you’re keeping a break?” Bruno opened his mouth to say something but you weren’t interested. “Don’t even bother, I don’t care about your excuses. I can smell her perfume on you, Bruno! Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

For long seconds he remained silent and you could tell he was trying to determine what answer wouldn’t provoke an even bigger fight. “I fucked up, I know,” he admitted eventually. “But she knows it’s only temporary because I don’t want to leave you.”

“Well, too late, you already lost me. Please, sleep somewhere else tonight because I want to pack my things in peace.”

“Y/N, listen, damn it!” This was new. He sounded desperate. Letting out a sigh, you folded your arms over your chest and leaned against the wall behind you. “You have every right to believe I’m lying but I promise I’m telling the truth. I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and yes, I know this sounds like bullshit after I cheated on you. She… started flirting with me and I think I just wanted to see if I was over that phase.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at this pathetic excuse. “You would’ve figured that out after one night!”

“I told her it was over but she couldn’t leave me alone. I’m willing to admit that I’m stupid and weak, and I shouldn’t have agreed to meet her again. Please, give me another chance,” he tried.

Bruno still didn’t get it. The moment you’d told him you wouldn’t be home this afternoon he asked this woman to meet him. He didn’t hesitate and he acted like everything was perfectly fine. If what he said was true, that he really wanted to end that affair, he would’ve acted accordingly and you would’ve noticed that he looked troubled. But he didn’t. You were sure he wasn’t planning to end it. Shaking your head, you went to the bedroom and started packing your things, ignoring as he tried to convince you to stay.

Note: Sorry for the typos or mistakes. Inspiration: “Alarm” by Anne-Marie.

#bruno bangnyfe #bruno bangnyfe x reader #bruno bangnyfe fanfiction #bruno bangnyfe fanfic #burn the witch #burn the witch fanfiction #burn the witch fanfic

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