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zi-i-think · 3 years

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Emotional Support Himbo

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1200+

Warnings: none

Request: yes, @wist-elia

Prompt: Gen Z

23. “Will you be my emotional support himbo?”

AN: JSKINFINFS So almost a year later I have finally posted this. I'm sorry. I don't really have any excuse other than I've been busy and kinda forgot about them. I hope you like it nonetheless. It was basically halfway finished when I got back to it. I think this is the last request I had for the batch I got months ago so I might open the requests again in a bit.

*not my gif

Okay, let’s be completely honest here. Y/n was nervous as hell. When she found out that her mom got a job in the Ministry of Magic in London, she was happy for her, excited even. But transferring from Ivermorny to Hogwarts turned out to be the most nerve-wracking part of it.

It was her sixth year and the school was more curious about the TriWizard Tournament than the new girl. She was thankful for it, there weren’t as many people asking her questions. But it was certainly annoying when people completely forgot she was new and picked on her for not knowing the way around. They were in a castle where stairs changed every couple of minutes, she figured people would at least be a bit more understanding.

As the weeks went by, things got better, for sure, but y/n was still struggling to fit in. She had some friends that she met from her House and classes, but none of them were close and she still occasionally got lost. Originally, she relied on Quidditch to find her place in the big school, but with the tournament, they were canceled for the year. So without strong friends or a hobby, she was basically alone.

That was until one sunny afternoon.

Transfiguration had just ended, marking the end of the school day and the beginning of the weekend. But y/n had to stay behind for a bit discussing a not-so-great grade in her last paper. McGonagall was not lenient on grades, but the best she could do was give her tips and points for the next time.

And once the discussion ended Y/n was eager to leave the class and go back to her dorm where she could take a nap or read a book. But once the door shut behind her and she stood out in the cold hallway, the realization settled in. She still wasn’t sure how to get to the Hufflepuff basement. She looked both left and right, down the long, daunting hallways wishing she paid more attention when walking back to the dorms with her roommates.

She took a chance and turned left, walked down some stairs, then up some again, then down, and with the complete wonder of how she got there, Y/n found herself in the lively courtyard. It was warm out and the sun was inviting, making it perfect for students to hang out and have some downtime.

And while the environment seemed like a great time, all the unfamiliar faces were scary to the new girl. She just wanted to get to her dorm. Spotting a small group of students wearing the same black and yellow tie she wore, Y/n pushed aside her fear for the moment and walked over.

“Excuse me?” She asked with a cheerful smile, getting the attention of one girl with brown hair and glasses. “Could you tell me how to get to the Hufflepuff basement?” She kept it simple, that way there'd be less room to say something wrong.

The other girl smiled and her head tilted to the side a bit in amusement.

“You’re the new girl, aren’t you.” She asked. But not in a friendly or curious manner, but in a taunting, humored way.

“Well, yeah,” Y/n answered with a shrug.

“And you don’t know where the Hufflepuff basement is?” She started the chuckle, her friends following along. “Honey, it’s been weeks, figure it out.”

And with that, she turned her head and kept giggling. Her friends chuckled along lightly, but largely just ignored that y/n was standing right there.

Y/n stood there dumbfolded for a moment. But each passing moment that she was standing there, her embarrassment grew and she took a few steps backward to leave the courtyard. She kept her head low to hide any tears that were threatening to spill out of her eyes. Her chest felt heavy and her throat tight.

It felt like everyone in the courtyard was now staring. Like on her first day where she was put with all the first years to be sorted. Like a black sheep. But now it felt like they were judging her.

Still, y/n felt too embarrassed to look up and ground herself back into reality. To see that no one was actually paying attention to her. Well except for one particularly bored Gryffindor. Fred Weasley sat up against one of the columns with an apple in hand when he noticed the new Hufflepuff loosely composing herself.

He noted two things about her. One, she was pretty. Definitely his type. And two, she was nervous. He didn’t recognize her from his previous years. There was no way she was in her first year, but she was also in Hogwarts uniform, so she wasn’t from Beubaxton.

He bit into the apple just enough to hold it in his mouth and pushed off the column he was on. Y/n had turned from the courtyard into the corridor of the school figuring that it was better to walk anywhere than wandering the yard aimlessly, walking towards the Weasley. He bit into the apple and right before she passed and then started walking right beside her.

“Apple?” He offered the half-eaten fruit to her.

Y/n jumped a little. She didn’t even see him approach her. She looked at him and then the apple. Her brows furrowed in confusion and her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. It was obviously a trick to make her feel even worse about herself.

“Are you offering me an apple that has basically been eaten already?” She asked in annoyance.

Fred then just realized how insensitive the gesture was, so he tossed the apple into his other hand and chuckled at himself.

“I suppose I was. But, we can always go to the Great Hall for another one if you’d like.”

“Honestly, the only place I want to go to is the Hufflepuff common room.” She huffed, wishing this boy would just go away.

Fred’s face twisted in confusion then looked around the hall they were walking down. “You do realize you’re walking the wrong way.” He found himself laughing.

Y/n stopped on her tracks. That was it. She was embarrassed and alone, and on top of that, a Gryffindor was laughing at her. Tears were finally starting to drip down her cheek. “I knew that.” She lied through gritted teeth and turned around the other way.

Finally noticing that he might have done something wrong and that this girl had no clue where she was going, Fred stopped laughing and turned around as well to walk with her.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were upset.” He said. Y/n was now wiping her tears with the sleeves of her cloak. “The kitchens are in the same hall as the Hufflepuff common room. I know that much. How about, I walk you to the kitchens and you should find your house from there.”

Y/n looked up at him with slightly puffed eyes. “You’re actually being sincere?” She asked.

“Don’t get used to it, I’m not usually.” He chuckled. Y/n couldn’t help it this time. His laugh was infectious.

“Alright, I won’t.” She grinned and then stuck her hand out to shake. “Y/n L/n.”

“Fred Weasley.” He took the girl’s hand and kissed her knuckle rather than shaking it.

“You’re odd.” Y/n laughed at the strange gesture. “Will you be my emotional support himbo?”

Fred’s eyebrows furrowed and his lips were pressed tightly together as he thought. “Not completely sure what that means.” He admitted. “But yes.”

“Wonderful.” She smiled.

#fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #harry potter #hogwarts

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alexwritesfiction · 3 years

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you really know how to make me cry (when you give me those ocean eyes)

AO3

johnlock | tw suicide mention, swearing | fluff and angst | a/n: ignore typos pls

the one where lestrade breaks down and tells sherlock about how wrecked john was after sherlock's fake death, and it leads to a very wholesome confrontation.

Prompt: Lestrade has a bit of a break down and starts telling Sherlock about John after the fall; "you weren't here Sherlock! you didn't see him! you weren't the one who got drunk phonecalls in the early hours and you didn't run to the cemetery to see him sitting by your grave with his gun in his mouth!"

---

Lestrade really did work hard. Well, lately he hadn’t had to. Sherlock had come back, after all. And for that exact reason, he’d called his dear friend for a breakfast. That was, if John could handle Sherlock being out of his sight for more than five minutes. Greg could swear he was clingier to Sherlock than to Mary.

And he couldn’t even blame him for it. The dumb fool had given all of them heart attacks when he pulled the big prank. Greg had hated himself for not being able to save Holmes.

As he waited, he looked down at his wrist to check the time on, ironically, the same watch Sherlock had once given him. Or rather, Molly had on Sherlock’s behalf.

“Hello, Graham,” an all-too-familiar voice spoke above him, and he looked up to see Sherlock already sat in front of him. He'd become good at that; sneaking around.

“Before you say anything, let me tell you, I will let you solve cases from now on, but I do need a good murder every now then. Maybe you'll need my help soon enough,” he smiled in that know-all way of him, placing his hand on top of another on the table.

Greg couldn’t help but show his wonder at how Sherlock had known exactly what was going to happen.

“How did you- never mind. I shouldn’t even ask,” he said. If his nervous tics were anything to go by, Sherlock probably had him all figured out.

“Well, now that that’s over, I need your help,” he said, quickly and Lestrade almost fell off his chair at hearing that from him.

“I- you- what?” he asked again, and he could genuinely not comprehend what Sherlock had just said.

“I'm going to, ah, prank John,” he smiled a little wider. “I need you to help me pull it off,” his eyes sparkled and as soon as the words “prank john” had left his mouth, Lestrade had hit his limit.

He was done. He was so done with his friend not understanding just how much he had really affected everyone around him. He knew Sherlock didn’t expect anyone to care if he was there or gone, but people did. Just like that, Lestrade burst.

“Prank? A prank?” he said and Sherlock was taken aback by the belittling way he'd said. Greg stood up, almost spilling his beloved coffee. For once, Sherlock did not know why he was so mad.

“How much more do you want to hurt him? Don’t you think you’ve done enough of that after the big fucking Moriarty prank?” His anger was rising and he willed for himself to calm down, but he couldn’t imagine being so dense after solving so many mysteries.

Sherlock remained seated, a frown pulled upon his cupid’s bow. Why would people be hurt? In his idea of a world without himself, all that would change was that John would marry Mary, Mr. Hudson wouldn’t be annoyed and Lestrade would have more work and Mycroft would be the same. Why would anything change?

“I don’t- Lestrade, it's just a prank. It's quite funny, I imagine,” he tried to get the situation under his control, under his sense. He wasn't used to not knowing what was going on.

Greg started to leave after a moment, grabbing his coffee and his coat and walking away. Sherlock’s voice calling him stopped him in his tracks, and just because he’d uttered his real name, called him Greg for the first time ever. That effectively shattered him and gave him courage to say what he was about to.

“You weren't here Sherlock! You didn't see him! You weren't the one who got drunk phone calls in the early hours and you didn't run to the cemetery to see him sitting by your grave with his gun in his mouth!" he yelled, speeding back to the damned detective still watching him.

His face turned ghostly pale, and he was speechless at the confession. John- his John- had tried to- God, he had tried to not exist anymore. Sherlock’s mind was completely blank and running the fastest it ever had simultaneously.

This time, it was Sherlock’s turn to abruptly stand up and sprint away in the freezing winds, leaving a very unstable Lestrade right at the table, reeling from what had just happened.

On his way back, all Sherlock could think of was a world without John. How could that even be possible? There would be no Sherlock, no Sherlock’s world. Because, as he had come to realize it in his days of living without him, John was quite literally his world.

He could not think of the time before Watson, he could not remember his lifestyle, one without seeing john right after waking up and right before sleeping, and sometimes only staring at him sleep so peacefully. 221B Baker Street came into view rather quickly than Sherlock expected it to, and his feet led him right up to his shared room, ignoring Mrs. Hudson’s calling him.

He found John sitting on a chair, particularly, Sherlock’s chair, wrapped up in Sherlock’s favourite billowy coat. And he looked like he had no worried in his life in that position.

Sherlock almost didn’t wake him, debated ruining his sleep for a mere question. But he needed answers, or he would drive himself crazy with all the scenarios in his head.

“John! Wake up!” he urged, and something in his voice didn’t feel right to a sleeping John because he was up and alarmed in five second flat.

He flicked his head around the room, finally settling his gaze on Sherlock, with his lips pressed into a thin line. John had never seen Sherlock like this, all red nosed and red cheeked and so human. And although one could say that Sherlock Holmes was the most human version of himself around john Watson, it still felt ethereal.

The sunlight fell on John’s face such that he looked like an angel to Sherlock, his anchor to reality. But he would not let himself imagine what it would be like to lose his anchor.

“Was what Lestrade said true?” he spoke carefully, closely inspecting John’s face. He saw John’s face contort in confusion, and shake his head.

“He said, he said he saw you. In the cemetery, with your- your gun, in your mouth,” he spoke so softly that John had to strain his ears to catch onto what he was saying.

And once he did, he was taken back, and it took a full moment for him to process that Sherlock knew. He did not get scared of this, he could not because him finding out seemed like such a small pain as compared to the night he was referring to.

He’d gone insane without Sherlock’s little quips and remarks and him being around all the time and his mere presence came back to bite at him. It was a particularly awful night. He’d fought with Mary, over Sherlock nonetheless, but it had been meaningless as soon as he found himself drunk at his grave. He’d called Lestrade because he needed anything that would make him feel like Sherlock was there. Like he existed.

“I thought you died, Sherlock,” he spoke slowly, Sherlock’s coat still around him. He didn’t dare take it off.

“John,” he uttered and then he was right there striding towards his freaking other half. He didn’t know what fuelled it but right then he had a burning need to hold john, to feel him close, for him to be his anchor through whatever whirlwind of emotions he was going through.

John hugged him back just tight, as hard as he could, because god if he hadn’t dreamed of this since the very first time they giggled together at a crime scene. He didn’t know if this chance would come again and he was not going to let it go now that it was here.

“I didn’t know that you cared,” Sherlock said then, and he was terrified of the wet feeling on his cheeks that completely broke john’s heart. John hastily wiped them away because absolutely could not stand the sight of Sherlock being so vulnerable.

Mary’s words came back to him: “You care about him, John, more than me or yourself, and enough that you’re willing to ruin yourself over him.” He realized how wrong she was that night. Sherlock was not the reason John was sad sad, it was his absence. As much as he had hated admitting it to himself, Sherlock was his anchor to reality, too.

The two men stood sharing a moment there, neither of them needing to say anything. But then john recalled Sherlock’s previous words, about not knowing that john cared about him. He wanted to tell him he cared about him, that he could not go a day without seeing him.

But that was exactly was Sherlock was scared of. So, he said the only thing that fit perfectly:

“Elementary, my dear Holmes.”

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#fanfiction #my works #my writing #johnlock #ao3 #my fanfics #john watson #sherlock holmes #sherlock bbc #acd sherlock holmes #johnlock fluff #johnlock fanfic

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hxseok-honee · 3 years

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3005 || part 11

3005 [part 11] || "Perks of dating a Slytherin"

[no matter what you say and what you do // when i’m alone, i’d rather be with you]

previous || masterlist || next

a/n : mayhaps i,,, went a little crazy,,, writing this,,,

taglist [open] :

@deepseavibez @lele-bb @monamone @unadulteratedlyunique @bluefaeriefury @hooniepie @loveyoongles @lilacdreams-00 @ramyagovindraj @skyrro @diminieshoe @calling-dips-on-j-hope @yuusilverscar @butterflylion @dingzerenistall @miki-chi @army-moa75 @drpepperobsessed @cecedrake2217 @somelazysundays @xxxanimangxxx @cosmicdaylight @navybluewonderland @itismochirice @dreadity @secretlycrazyhummingbird @taeshuworld @lochness-butmakeitsexy @beeeb05 @preciouschimine @thetrueghostqueen @sonderkook @pb-n-juju @aviwasabi21

a/n : there were some blogs that tumblr wouldnt let me tag -- sorry about that!

_________________________________

“Jeez, it’s insane in here -- we’re packed like sardines!” Y/n trails into the Three Broomsticks after Jimin and Tae, barely managing to catch the Ravenclaw’s complaint over the noise of the crowd. She’s barely made it in the door of the pub, but she can already see that she might be stuck there a while. It’s full to capacity, a sea of colored scarves and matching hats -- early November has brought nothing but cloudy mornings and chilly nights, the lower levels of Hogwarts particularly affected by the evening drafts. She’s lucky that Hufflepuff is kept at a consistent level of cozy warmth, but she can tell Slytherins must deal with constant cold by the way that Hoseok and Yoongi, who hover in the doorway behind her, have only draped their deep green scarves over thin long-sleeve shirts.

From the front, Jimin complains, trying to no avail to push through the mass of students and find a free table or even call dibs on one that’s busy. And even from behind Tae, Y/n can see the Gryffindor is pouting, which is entirely endearing, but she doesn’t get the chance to point it out to him -- there’s a hand on her waist, gently guiding her to the side. Another hand wraps around her wrist, this one shockingly warm against her cold skin, and she turns to see Yoongi pulling her in silently toward him while Hoseok brushes past her on the other side. The smaller Slytherin pulls her in close enough that she has to cross her eyes to properly see him, but he’s not even looking at her. He’s gazing expectantly in Hoseok’s direction.

Following his eyes, she sees that something of a miracle is occurring -- the mass is parting for Hoseok, students bumping into each other as they rush to get out of his way. He says nothing, simply making his way through the crowd and beckoning them in after him. Tae stumbles after Jimin, and Y/n only follows when Yoongi quietly moves his hand to the small of her back and nudges her in their direction. Before she can get too far from him, she feels his lips press against the shell of her ear as he whispers to her.

“Perks of dating a Slytherin -- nice, huh?” Y/n’s heart jumps to her throat, and she lurches forward slightly, putting distance between them. She still hears as he snickers behind her, but she ignores it and follows after Tae.

As she goes, she sees that, ahead of her, Hoseok has reached a round booth, just big enough to fit the five of them. There’s a couple of Ravenclaws that get there at the same time he does, and when he turns to look at them, Y/n can see exactly why the crowd had parted for him. He’s got a look in his eye -- nothing compared to the look he’d given Remus in the forest all those weeks ago -- but it’s almost as if he knows he doesn’t need it. His face is blank and his eyes are empty, something entirely terrifying to someone unfamiliar with Hoseok. He looks like a true Slytherin, one that commands obedience with his mere presence.

One of the Ravenclaws takes one look at Hoseok and is immediately stepping back, pulling his companion along with him. Hoseok only nods gratefully to them, clearly showing that he hadn’t meant to be intimidating -- it’s just who he is. Then he turns and waves them forward, Jimin rushing in a bit fast and shooting his housemates an apologetic smile. He slips into the booth, Tae following close behind. They file in like that, Hoseok sliding in after Yoongi and letting his hand fall comfortably to his boyfriend’s thigh once he’s settled. Y/n sees the movement and notes in the back of her mind with surprise that Hoseok’s hand is much bigger than expected -- it covers almost all of Yoongi’s thigh.

“See something you like, Princess?” Hoseok leans in to whisper it, but, judging by the looks of disgust that cross Jimin and Tae’s faces, he hadn’t been quiet enough.

“And on that note, I’m gonna order us some food!” Jimin scoots out of the booth, making a beeline for the bar as Taehyung reaches dramatically after his best friend. He turns back, resigning himself to the strange dynamic of the trio before him. But Y/n only scoots in to cling to his arm, smiling up at him, and the Gryffindor relaxes.

“So, is there anywhere you guys need to go after lunch? Jimin and I want to stop at Honeydukes!” Hoseok nods along to Taehyung’s request, humming in consideration.

“I could really go for some jelly slugs…” Y/n and Tae stare at him in disbelief, unsure if he’s just messing with them. The idea that Jung Hoseok -- the guy that had just moved an entire crowd for them with no more than a look -- could enjoy something so… sugary… is beyond them. But apparently, it’s a topic of regular conversation in the 7th year Slytherin boys’ dorm.

“I told you, that shit’s bad for your teeth--”

“Says the one who sits in class chewing on sugar quills instead of using a real quill to take notes.” Hoseok cuts Yoongi off with finality, challenging him to continue, but the shorter boy only grimaces and mumbles under his breath about Jimin taking too long. Y/n and Taehyung look to each other for answers, only finding more confusion.

When Jimin does finally return -- somehow managing to balance 5 plates of food in his arms -- the group settles in to eat, chatting about various things until they finish their food. It’s nice, Y/n decides, to hang out with friends she doesn’t always find herself with. Although she’d become rather close with Jimin and Taehyung recently, she’d spent every Hogsmeade weekend with Jin and Namjoon until now, so this is all still relatively new to her.

It’s especially new to hang out so closely with Yoongi and Hoseok -- she admits that she’d definitely gotten comfortable with them since the day that Yoongi had claimed her bed as his own while she’d had a strangely deep heart to heart with Hoseok, but she still feels slightly tense around them. Their constant flirting has been more than disarming, but it flusters her most when they’re right in front of her. At least when they’re texting, she can hide in the comfort of her room, but here… she has nowhere to run if they decide to start teasing her.

As if to drag her out of her thoughts by proving her right, the warmth of a palm sliding across the expanse of her thigh startles her back to reality. She glances down quickly, taking in the fact that there is actually a hand on her leg, before following the arm up to its owner. Hoseok only eyes her with confusion, having reached across Yoongi to get her attention.

Turning quickly to Taehyung, she looks up at him with confused panic, as if to confirm that she’s not hallucinating. The Gryffindor’s already staring down at her leg, having seen the movement out of the corner of his eye. He meets her gaze with wide eyes before turning away, as if to tell her it’s none of his business what she gets up to with Hoseok in the middle of this pub. When she tries to lean in further for his attention, Tae only turns his whole body away from her, sipping at his drink and denying her silent plea for assistance with feigned ignorance.

He catches Jimin’s eye in doing so, and the Ravenclaw glances over quickly, his gaze catching on Hoseok’s ringed fingers resting on the inside seam of Y/n’s jeans. Immediately, Jimin’s choking on his food, turning away with reddening ears as he puts his napkin up to his mouth. Hoseok looks around, eyes wide with confusion at the reactions he’s getting. Yoongi only closes his eyes and nods, fully having expected this chain of commotion in the booth.

Y/n looks down at the hand in her lap once more, hating that the only thing coming to mind is that now she can definitely confirm that Hoseok’s hand is as large as she’d noted previously. She stares down at it, scandalized, only coming back to reality when Hoseok squeezes her thigh, drawing her attention back to him. He’s smiling, but it’s filled with bemusement.

“Princess, I’ve been talking to you for like five minutes -- where was your head?”

It was thinking about yo--

Y/n blinks, shaking her head both to answer Hoseok and to rid herself of the intrusive thought she’d just had. She looks to Yoongi quickly, terrified that he might somehow be sitting close enough to have heard the unexpected words that had crossed her mind. He’s examining her carefully out of the corner of his eye, but his face is void of emotion except for the hint of amusement in his gaze. When she makes eye contact with him, he leans in, holding her gaze and whispering to her in a low voice.

“He’s only trying to give you your potion for today -- are your thoughts wandering somewhere they shouldn’t be, babe?” Y/n leans away the closer Yoongi gets, deciding they’re both much too close for comfort. Pulling her leg gently from Hoseok’s grasp, she scoots in the booth until she’s flush with Taehyung, who continues to sip at his drink with vigor, as if he hadn’t just heard the entire exchange. She’s about to force the Gryffindor to acknowledge her existence and help her, but there’s another hand falling to her lap, this one different but warm all the same.

It’s Yoongi’s, and while he has his palm turned up toward her -- a vial filled with familiar contents sitting innocently there -- the contact is enough to have Taehyung elbowing Jimin urgently, decidedly finished with his lunch. The Ravenclaw scoots toward the edge of the booth, taking one last gulp of his butterbeer before gesturing vaguely at his coat pocket, where his phone sits untouched.

“Text from Namjoon -- bookstore -- gotta meet hi-- bye!” Wrapping his hand around Taehyung’s wrist, he pulls the boy with him out of the booth, and with that, the two of them disappear into the crowd and out the door. Y/n stares after them, panic seeping into every fiber of her being as she turns slowly to face the two Slytherins she’s been left alone with. Hoseok’s also staring at the spot their friends had disappeared into, but Yoongi only presses his hand further into Y/n’s lap, urging her to take the vial.

“Full moon’s tomorrow -- drink up, babe.”

“No, that has to be a fucking joke -- you’re lying to me--”

“I’m not lying! I hiked my ass up that fucking tree and sat there throwing sticks at this girl so she would stop hurting herself until 5 o’clock in the morning!” Y/n groans and hides behind her hands, laughing out of sheer humiliation while Hoseok retells the story of the night they’d met -- the night she’d almost killed him. Yoongi leans his head back against the booth and breathes out a laugh, unable to believe what he’s just heard. He turns to Y/n, reaching out and tugging on her wrists until her eyes appear from behind her hands.

“Thank you very much for not ripping my boyfriend to shreds before I could confess. I would have been pissed.” She pulls her wrist from Yoongi’s grasp, pushing at his shoulder with another groan. She notices out of the corner of her eye that Hoseok’s gesturing silently toward the bar, holding up three fingers before pointing at their table -- their third set of refills in the last two hours. The glint of the metal bands on his fingers catches her attention, and she swallows hard as she returns her gaze to Yoongi’s face. The look he’s giving her tells her he’s caught her staring, but he only smiles when she clears her throat and attempts to move on.

“I just think it’s ridiculous that -- for someone who claims to be obsessed with magizoology and all things magical creatures -- Hoseok didn’t think ahead before wandering out to the Forbidden Forest on a full moon night.” Hoseok cracks a smile, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at her jab before focusing in on the waiter that’s sliding three fresh butterbeers onto their table. He slips the man a tip with a quick thanks, man, before pushing two of the drinks over to Y/n and Yoongi. There’s something so effortlessly smooth about the way Hoseok had handled the entire interaction -- as mundane and simple as it’d been -- that sets Y/n’s nerves on fire, and she accepts the drink shyly. Her mind flashes back to the one time she’d been here with her brother and his friends, the way Remus had stumbled over his words and almost spilled his drink on the table. It isn’t as cute to her now as it was back then--

Wait, what the hell?

“Princess?” She looks up from her drink and finds both Hoseok and Yoongi staring at her, heads tilted in matching confusion. Hoseok’s eyes flick down to her drink, and he gestures toward the bar with his thumb. “You’ve been drinking them cold this whole time, but I can get you something else if you don’t want it--”

“No! No… Thank you. This is good.” Hoseok stops short at her outburst, Yoongi’s eyebrows lifting past his fringe in surprise. Y/n only looks between them for a moment before lifting the drink to her lips awkwardly. When she sets it down again, she doesn’t notice the line of foam stretching across her top lip. The boys focus in on it, Yoongi taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he decidedly leans toward her after a moment. Resting two fingers under her chin, he swipes his thumb slowly over her mouth, sitting back and sticking that same thumb in his mouth to clean the sugar off his skin when he’s done. Hoseok watches the exchange with unwavering intensity, following the path of Yoongi’s hand all the way to the smaller boy’s mouth. Y/n doesn’t realize she’s done the same.

Seeing that he’s being stared at, Yoongi smiles awkwardly, leaning his elbows on the table as the tips of his ears turn pink. Looking to his boyfriend, he opens his mouth.

“So… it’s your fault you almost died?” Hoseok blinks, the moment gone. Y/n takes another sip of her drink, giving herself time to hide behind the large mug that covers much of her reddening face when she tilts it back. She swipes self-consciously at her mouth with her sleeve when she’s done, hoping they wouldn’t have to repeat the intimate display from before. She thinks that, if not for the fact that she’s found herself sensitized to the sound of Hoseok’s voice, she would have missed his response.

“Alright, I feel like I have to defend myself here -- I mean, I was 13 and way too excited about finding that pack of sentient wolves I’d read about. You really can’t blame me for not expecting there to be students of Y/n’s… special nature.” Hoseok glances around the pub inconspicuously, and Y/n finds herself covered in goosebumps when he lowers his voice at the end.

What the hell is happening to me?

Y/n blinks quickly, willing her frazzled state to just disappear, and focuses on what he’d said previously instead. She meets his eyes, sighing slightly when she sees that he’s already peering at her, thoroughly entertained by whatever it is that he’s finding on her face.

“So--” Hoseok straightens, discarding whatever he’d been thinking about to pay attention. “--are you just a total magizoology nerd then? Is that what you wanna do after graduation?” As if he hadn’t been expecting her genuine interest in his life, Hoseok bows his head slightly at her question, visibly shy. Beside him, Yoongi smiles fondly, and Y/n’s reminded of that day in the forest, when their roles had been switched.

“Oh… Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m interested in…” Hoseok trails off, but Y/n watches Yoongi nudge him almost teasingly, urging him to continue what he hadn’t wanted to say before. “I-uh-- I’ve been looking at internships at St. Mungo’s, but I really don’t think I’m gonna get--”

“He’s going to get in. They’d be crazy not to take him.” Yoongi interrupts him, practically beaming with pride. “How could they not? He’s got real passion for it, it’s obvious. I’m kinda jealous -- I wish I could do something cool like that.” Hoseok takes a sip of his drink, clearly doing what Y/n had done earlier to hide from them, but she lets it slide with a teasing glance when he meets her eyes over the rim of the glass. Turning to Yoongi, she hums, noting that he doesn’t seem fazed at all with admitting something about his future.

“You can’t do something cool like that?” She doesn’t mean to pry, but even after she realizes that the question could be sensitive, Yoongi only breathes out a laugh, shaking his head. She’s relieved he hadn’t taken any kind of offense.

“Nah -- my parents are what you’d call… elitist freaks. They’ve got a serious hard-on for that psychopath running around with his cult, so… I’m honestly lucky if I make it out of this war with all my morals intact.” She is deeply unprepared for Yoongi’s response, the sudden heartbreak she’s experiencing only worsened by the fact that he says it with a straight face, as if he’d long resigned himself to the truth of his words. When he sees the look on her face, Yoongi’s expression softens, and he tilts his head to look at her, his eyes twinkling with endearment.

“Don’t pout at me like that, babe -- you're making me want to kiss it better.” If Y/n hadn’t been expecting that comment, Hoseok really hadn’t been expecting it. He chokes on his butterbeer immediately, waving at Y/n frantically when she tries to help. Slamming his drink down on the table, Hoseok grabs Yoongi, pulling the smaller boy to him, hiding his face in his boyfriend’s shoulder while he finishes his coughing fit. Yoongi only pats his back, making a face of playful disgust at being used as a napkin.

“Well, now that Hoseok’s thoroughly embarrassed himself and his Slytherin reputation in front of, like, a million people, I think it’s time we go get him his jelly slugs.” Yoongi nudges his boyfriend out of the booth, gesturing with a nod of his head for Y/n to follow as he sets some money on the table and slides out of the booth.

In contrast to the way Hoseok had entered the Three Broomsticks, he leaves with his head bowed, ears red as he slouches his way to the door. Yoongi chuckles from behind Y/n, shaking his head as he guides her through the crowd with his hand on her waist.

“Look at him go -- my tall, embarrassed boyfriend. How cute. Gotta get him his jelly slugs.” He says all this like he’s talking to himself -- not quite in full sentences, each word full of a kind of exasperated adoration that Y/n finds impossibly cute. Yoongi’s shaking his head like he’s disappointed by Hoseok’s rare awkwardness, but he’s smiling like he’s in love. Y/n feels both giddy by the display of affection and strange that she’s granted this kind of access to their relationship. She feels torn, quite frankly. Like she shouldn’t be allowed to see this side of them.

By the time they finally reach Honeydukes, Hoseok has regained his confidence, going so far as to walk backwards while he talks to them. It’s ridiculous, really, the way he changes before her eyes -- the slouching boy from before transforms into the arrogant Hoseok she knows well, the one who practically hangs off of her now, looking for any excuse to touch her. One hand pulls at her scarf, adjusting it, while the other grabs for her fingertips, asking with a smirk if she’d like him to warm her up before linking their fingers together playfully. Yoongi only follows along, smiling and feigning innocence when Y/n turns to him for help.

They’re so busy causing chaos amongst themselves that they don’t notice another group headed straight for the doors of Honeydukes -- when Y/n does finally see them, she’s startled simply because, in any other case on any other day, she would have noticed them from a mile away.

“Y/n, hi!” Remus smiles wide at her, waving excitedly when he catches her attention. Y/n stops short, shocked by his sudden appearance which, really, is not all that sudden. “I texted you to see if you wanted to meet up today, but I guess luck’s on our side, huh?” Making a noise of surprise, she reaches for her coat pocket, where her phone remains unchecked. She hadn’t even felt the vibrations of a notification, too distracted by Hoseok and Yoongi.

As she’s checking her phone -- and seeing that she does, in fact, have an unseen message from Remus -- she misses the way James’ gaze hones in on where her hand is still attached to Hoseok’s, but she certainly feels when Hoseok rips his hand from hers and stuffs it into the pocket of his jeans. Looking up in confusion, she finds that he’s not looking at her, only staring with determination at the display in the Honeydukes window. He looks conflicted, almost guilty, and when she turns to the Marauders, the expression of scandalized surprise on James and Sirius’ faces tells her why. If Remus had seen them holding hands, his face betrays nothing.

“I’m gonna just… go get my jelly slugs. I’ll see you inside.” Hoseok brushes past her, leaving her there with Remus as he heads into the sweets shop. Yoongi looks after his boyfriend, and Y/n sees him start to follow but stop in his tracks, choosing in the end to remain beside her. The decision throws her, but she’s learned that Yoongi doesn’t do anything without thinking it through first, so she lets it go. Turning to the boys, she smiles sweetly, addressing them with surprising ease, considering she’s in the company of her childhood crush.

“Did you guys just get here? I didn’t see you at the Three Broomsticks at all.” James shakes his head, pushing away the memory of her display of physical affection with Hoseok as he responds. Sirius, however, continues to squint suspiciously, looking between her and Yoongi as he hovers near Remus.

“Nah, we were just at Zonko’s for like two hours -- gotta stock up, you know.” He shakes a large plastic bag filled with tricks and pranks for effect, and Y/n steps forward to peer inside.

“Woah… I can only imagine how many detentions this’ll get you.” The boys all laugh at how well she knows them, but Sirius leans in with a conspiratorial grin.

“Say, Y/n -- I feel like we haven’t seen you in forever! Why’s that, hm?” Y/n meets his eyes, lost.

“What do you mean? We talk all the time--”

“Well, yeah, but with your brother glued to Jin now, our crew’s been feeling so… empty these days. The Telepathy Twins have abandoned us!” He drapes himself over Remus’ back and cries out dramatically as he finishes complaining, something that has Y/n rolling her eyes with a smile.

“I’ve been here, Sirius -- we can hang out whenever you want!” Sirius perks up, leaning in toward her face with a sly grin.

“How ‘bout now?” Y/n lifts a single eyebrow, leaning away from him with a look of disbelief.

“Now? But…” She’s about to say that she’s busy and can’t leave with them, even if Remus is right there offering to hang out. But her hesitation sets Yoongi on edge, and he steps in quickly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging her back toward him. When she’s close enough, he takes his arm and throws it around her waist, moving behind her as he pulls her flush against his chest. She’s suddenly trapped against him, something made more clear in the way Yoongi leans his chin on her shoulder. She can almost feel the smirk spread across his lips as he speaks, his voice vibrating against the shell of her ear.

“Sorry boys, but Y/n’s really hard to get a hold of these days. Hoseok and I barely managed to reserve time with her today -- what kind of person would I be if I just let you steal her away from us?” Y/n’s not sure what to do with the show Yoongi’s putting on, and she knows by the way his arm is firm against her waist that he’s not letting her go anytime soon.

She watches lamely as Sirius hums contemplatively, having expected some sort of reaction from Yoongi but not quite this. Remus’ eyebrows lift in surprise as his gaze drops to the arm wrapped around her, but he doesn’t say anything. James is the first to respond, shaken from his shock at Yoongi’s bold move by the realization that this looks not unlike a literal standoff right in front of a crowded shop.

“Well, we’ll just have to schedule our own time later on, then, won’t w-- oh!” He reacts when the doorbell above the Honeydukes door rings out, revealing Hoseok as he exits, holding a bag of jelly slugs and sugar quills for Yoongi. There are a couple chocolate bars in his hand, something he knows helps Y/n after the full moon. He’s so busy sifting through his bag that it takes him a second to see the scene he’s just walked into.

When he does look up, he’s stopping short, eyes trained evenly on the compromising position his boyfriend’s in. Whatever thoughts are crossing his mind in that moment are unseen on his face, his eyes unblinking as they pass over Yoongi’s arm, Yoongi’s chin, Yoongi’s lips pressed against Y/n’s ear as she’s pressed against his chest. They all stand there for a moment, frozen, waiting for Hoseok to react.

And then he’s blinking, looking away as he moves toward Remus and holds out one of the chocolate bars in his hand. Remus takes it, uncertain of what’s happening in Hoseok’s head right now. The Slytherin explains with one line and a polite smile.

“You look tired.” He’s not wrong -- Remus’ eyes show his exhaustion, his face and shoulders more slouched than usual as his body fights against the force of the moon, almost full. He looks how Y/n feels inside, but the adrenaline from the day spent with Hoseok and Yoongi -- apparently not yet over -- had kept her from feeling the full effects of the near future. Now that Hoseok’s mentioning it, Y/n feels herself start to become drained of energy, something that she knows Yoongi notices when she shifts in his arms and he tightens his hold on her.

Remus takes the chocolate with a tired smile, thanking Hoseok under his breath. And then he’s leaning around the Slytherin to wave kindly -- albeit a bit awkwardly -- at Y/n and Yoongi, still entangled in each other’s limbs.

“Good luck tomorrow, Y/n -- let me know if you need me, okay?” It’s innocent, it truly is. And Y/n’s grateful for it, the way Remus has always looked out for her. But the way Hoseok glances over his shoulder at her, his eyes appearing almost resigned, leaves her unsettled. And when the tips of Yoongi’s fingers dig into her side, betraying his annoyance with the comment, Y/n can’t help the fluttering feeling that rushes into the pit of her stomach. A feeling strictly reserved for Remus -- until now.

She waves awkwardly as they go, painfully aware of the sudden wave of crisp air hitting her back when Yoongi finally steps away from her. He holds his hand out for Hoseok’s bag, offering to carry it. Hoseok hands him the sweets, passing Y/n her chocolate bar without a word. The three of them are quiet as they exchange items, none of them quite certain how to proceed from what had just happened. Y/n feels guilty, like she’s the reason Hoseok and Yoongi are silent with each other.

Then, Hoseok’s turning to her, decidedly ignoring the entire situation with an easy grin. But there, in his eyes, is a glint of mischief, something teasing and light but intense enough to tell her that he won’t be forgetting about this moment for a long time, and that ignites something in her that she’s never felt before -- not even with Remus. It sends her heartbeat straight to her ears, muffling everything around her as her stomach drops in a way that she can’t bring herself to describe negatively. She barely registers Hoseok’s hand on her elbow, calling for her attention as he directs a bright smile at her.

“Ready to go, Princess?”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #jung hoseok #min yoongi #hoseok x reader #yoongi x reader #bts poly au

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empressapprentice · 3 years

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Arcana Headcanons: Infidelity + M6

I’m back with more headcanons, and will be sharing even more soon as I have more free time! My last batch was super sweet and fluffy, these are decidedly not. I’m doing these headcanons as character study exercises, and since the LIs are so devoted to you in-game, I wanted to think about what could possibly motivate them to cheat. Not all of these involve sex because I thought that certain characters would consider emotional interactions cheating on their partner. But warning for non-explicit sexual content for several of the M6--I’d say this is PG-13. These are kind of long, but I felt I needed some good exposition to set things up. I hate how much I enjoy angst :( Feedback and requests are always welcomed: if you hate it or love it, let me know why so I can improve! Plus, check out my Ao3 here, where I’ll be posting these as well.

Asra

Asra will never, ever regret giving up half his heart for you. But one night, he can’t sleep, feeling regret for the friendships and relationships he missed out on because it’s so difficult to form connections with others. He wishes that while he waited for you to recover from the resurrection, he’d been able to let others into his life.

He’s slept with people other than you (Julian, for one), but not since you woke up after the ritual. He realizes that he can’t remember any of his previous encounters. He completely forgot what anyone other than you feels like to hold and to touch.

The next day, he tells you that he wants to take a quick overnight trip to Nopal. With such late notice, you can’t tag along. He just wants to spend some time alone and actually get to know the villagers for once, intending to practice his social skills and break the cycle of isolation he unintentionally maintained with the people there.

When he sits around the fire, eating and sharing stories with the villagers, a handsome young man approaches him. He says that he’s always had a crush on the mysterious magician, but could tell that Asra was never open to getting to know anyone. Asra, remembering that he doesn’t know what it’s like to be close to someone else, starts flirting back. Before he knows it, his lips are brushing against the stranger’s.

The moment their lips meet, Asra pulls back sharply, overcome with guilt for betraying your trust. He shakily apologizes to the young man, saying he didn’t know what came over him. He runs back to his hut, gets on the Beast and travels back to Vesuvia as fast as possible. Faust comforts him as he sobs silently, thinking about never wanting to leave your arms again.

Nadia

Nadia is visiting a neighboring territory and sitting through a very, very boring dinner with dignitaries. She’s been away from Vesuvia for a week and anticipates having to stay for at least one more as negotiations drag on. She’s loath to admit it, but she’s lonely. The letters you’ve exchanged via Chandra only make the separation more painful.

So when a diplomat approaches her with questions about Vesuvia, she’s happy to have some company. She clearly admires Nadia quite a bit and compliments the work she’s done to turn Vesuvia around.

While basking in her companion’s kind words, she unconsciously moves closer to the other woman. It doesn’t take long for the conversation to become personal, moving away from professional networking. And even more quickly, the conversation becomes flirty. When Nadia moves her hand to touch the other woman, her intentions are clear. The diplomat is flattered, but hesitant, asking, “Aren’t you married?”

Nadia is momentarily stunned by the question, but refuses to lose her composure. The lie comes easily, from years of schmoozing fellow politicians. She replies that her marriage is open. The diplomat smiles, unaware of the shame pooling in Nadia’s core. She sheepishly invites the Countess back to her room.

Though the dinner is long over and the party moved into the sitting room for a digestif, many having already left, Nadia finds herself worried how it would look for the two of them to leave together. She hates herself for worrying more about appearances than you, but she’s been particularly hungry for the feel of a body next to her in bed and she’s frustrated at not being able to get what she wants for once. So, she agrees.

She excuses herself, saying that she must retire for the night, and waits a few moments for the diplomat to leave as well.

Nadia excuses herself after the shameful act, saying she must be in her own bed when servants come to wake her in the morning. She spends the rest of the night staring at her ceiling, vowing to never tell you about her indiscretion. You find out, of course, knowing your wife too well for her to hide that something’s wrong.

Julian

One night, he goes to the Rowdy Raven and is mid-tankard of Salty Bitters while animatedly telling the story of how he helped defeat the Devil. When he finishes weaving the tale, he heads back to the bar to another drink. Before he can get his coin purse to pay, an extremely attractive stranger tells Barth to put it on their tab--payment for the entertaining story.

Julian gratefully accepts, sliding into a seat to chat with the stranger. Whether consciously or unconsciously, Julian turns his charm up even more, wanting to make sure he keeps them entertained. They swap introductions, Julian’s natural tendency to call people affectionate names and his rakish attitude being interpreted as flirtation.

As the stranger returns the affection, Julian realizes what’s happening but doesn’t want to stop it. He’s practically glowing from the kind words flowing from the mouth of his new friend and is addicted to the feeling. A nagging voice tells him he should get back home to you, but it is quieted when the stranger moves closer to him, running a finger over his chest.

The stranger downs their drink and gets up abruptly. They tell Julian to finish his drink and meet them in the alley outside, with a cheeky comment about seeing what else his mouth could do thrown over their shoulder as they walk out the back of the tavern.

Julian’s breath catches at the thought of a clandestine alleyway quickie, and he can’t deny how appealing the idea seems to him. He stares at the drink remaining in his glass, fighting a mental war over whether to finish it quickly and run to the alley.

Barth approaches Julian, noticing he was about to finish his latest drink and anticipating a request for a refill. While waiting for Julian to finish, he makes light conversation with him. When he asks how you are doing, Julian bolts upright. His face reddens at the mention of your name, knowing he made a grave mistake even considering the stranger’s offer.

Julian leaves the rest of his drink untouched. He awkwardly gets up, says goodnight to Barth and hopes that he won’t run into the stranger when he exits the Raven out the front door. Mercifully, he doesn’t, but he might not have even noticed, he was so focused on getting back to you.

When he reaches the front door of the place you share, he’s sobbing. Even though it’s late, you are waiting up for him, knowing that he often needs you to offer him water and get him to eat some food after a night out. He falls on his knees before you, utterly broken by the kindness of you waiting to take care of him, and begs you to listen to him one last time. He tells you, again, that he is no good for you and it is inevitable he will break your heart. He confesses everything that happened at the bar, his voice breaking when he says how close he was to cheating on you. He admits in a small voice that he will never be worthy of you--despite all he’s changed, he’s always one step away from hurting you.

Lucio

Lucio is dressed in a new outfit, finely made and very flattering. He is about to attend a party at his estate in honor of the summer solstice. The last step in his pre-party ritual before joining you and making a grand entrance fashionably late is to admire himself in the mirror. He poses and struts in front of it, hyping himself up for the night, but stopping short as he notices a grey hair in his meticulously coiffed style.

Moving closer to the mirror, he is horrified that several other grey hairs have popped out since the last time he dyed his hair, not long ago. Stepping back, he frantically tries to change the style to hide them, shrieking as he realizes the wrinkles on his forehead are deeper than he remembers. The time-honored ritual, which has never failed to put him in the right mindset for a night of socialization, has only made him more self-conscious about his age than ever.

He starts pacing around his room, heels clicking and mind racing. He feels a strange sense of longing for his old life, when he had no responsibilities and never worried about the consequences of his actions. He’s old now, and he wishes for the freedom and stupidity of youth.

When he makes the grand entrance with you at the party, his heart isn’t really in it. He immediately heads for a servant, demanding a glass of hard liquor instead of his usual sparkling wine. One glass turns into several, and it’s not long before he’s very intoxicated. You see Lucio drinking more than usual, but you keep getting distracted by guests and can’t figure out what’s going on with him.

Once he’s drunk enough to not care about anything--just as he intended--he makes eye contact with an attractive woman in a slinky gown and winks. His rough flirting works, as the woman comes up to him. He feels a mixture of pride and shame that he’s still attractive and powerful enough to draw someone in with nothing more than a wink.

They chat briefly, but they both know Lucio desires more than conversation and the guest is more than willing to oblige. He takes the woman’s hand, leading her to an alcove far away from the party and they begin to make out. Soon his pants are at his ankles and they’re doing far more than kissing. It’s rough, messy and fast, exactly the thing he would have done in his life before he got the plague and before you.

The woman leaves him panting when they’ve both finished. His stomach drops as he realizes that this cheap attempt at feeling young again only made him feel worse. He realizes with a start that he jeopardized the thing that actually fulfills him and makes him truly happy.

Muriel

Muriel dislikes social interactions with pretty much everyone, especially strangers. How could he possibly cheat on you when he can hardly stand to spend time around his friends?

But as he becomes more comfortable with being around people, he starts spending time around the Palace. Usually, he’s waiting for you to finish your duties with Nadia so he can walk you home or go back to the shop for dinner, but sometimes he comes early so he can spend a quiet moment in the gardens.

The more time he spends at the Palace, befriending some of Lucio’s poorly-behaved albino animals and trying to train them, the more time he spends with a certain servant determined to befriend him.

At first, they don’t even catch his attention, he’s so used to tuning other people out. But this servant notices his gentle nature and sometimes brings him some water or tea and a pastry while he’s sitting by the fountain. They claim that they’ve been trained to always serve the needs of their guests, but they’re mostly interested in getting Muriel to open up.

After several weeks of Muriel becoming used to the servant and accepting that they can be trusted, he begins exchanging a few words with them beyond a grunted thanks for the refreshments. The way the servant approaches him reminds him of you and he finds he doesn’t mind light conversation to entertain him and distract him from Lucio’s pets.

One day, he realizes with a start that he not only trusts the servant and enjoys their company, but that he finds them attractive. He panics, not knowing how to tell you. He feels so ashamed of himself for letting someone new in and he’s never felt attracted to someone like this before, other than with you. He’s confused on how to handle his feelings and how he should tell you, if at all.

He confesses the situation to Asra before going to you. Asra is very kind and supportive, saying that it is natural to find other people attractive and that it’s a good sign that he is willing to let a stranger befriend him. But Muriel can’t shake the idea that he’s done wrong by you and refuses to come back to the gardens.

Portia

Given how much Portia likes secrets and romance stories, I think a part of her would love the idea of a sneaky romance. Portia is a deeply practical person, but there are times where she can get carried away with romanticism. The thrill of getting away with it and using her knowledge of the secret passages in the Palace, etc. to hide a tryst holds some appeal to her, but she’d feel ashamed of even fantasizing about it.

She has to work on the first night of the Masquerade after the events of the game due to her new responsibilities at the Palace. Out of solidarity, you work too, creating real-time magical spectacles to surprise guests. To keep up the aesthetic, you’re both still wearing costumes and masks.

While Portia is in the ballroom, she’s fretting over the floral displays and a heavily intoxicated person knocks into her, sending the vase flying. Before Portia can even react, she falls into strong arms, rescuing her from the splashing water and strewn flowers. She turns to thank the stranger, and they say she can express her gratitude by granting them a dance. In the spirit of the Masquerade, she accepts.

She and the stranger twirl around the dance floor to a fast-paced song. The stranger is a fantastic dancer and leads Portia through the steps flawlessly. They end the song by dipping her low. The music switches to a slow ballad while the lights dim. Still breathless, the stranger pulls Portia close, and she loses herself in the moment. The ambiance is incredible, and kissing a gorgeous masked stranger at a ball could not be more storybook-perfect. Their lips touch, until a swirl of magical energy brushes her and she remembers you. She steps back from the stranger and runs off, forgetting about her duties, the flowers on the ground and the rest of the Masquerade. She feels horrible about kissing someone other than you but can’t shake the smug pleasure deep inside her that loves her fairytale romance coming to life.

#the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana main 6 #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #lucio morgasson #portia devorak #muriel of the kokhuri #pain and angst #nic arcana headcanons

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the-bau-quinjet · 4 years

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Anything for You

So, I got this idea in my head and I wrote it. This is not the first thing I’ve written, but the first that I finished. And the first that I’m posting. Sorry if it sucks. I hope someone out there likes it. Italics indicate past memories.

Summary: This takes place after Maeve. It sort of starts a month before Spencer goes back to work but then skips a year. Reader is the newest member of the BAU. Spencer lashes out when she tries to help him, but he doesn’t realize how much she can relate to his trauma.

warnings: angst but also a little fluff, typical CM violence (kidnapping, torture, death etc.), dark thoughts about dying, I think that’s it

Word Count: 6218

It is moments like this that make you rethink every decision that lead you here. You are on the jet on the way back to Quantico after a particularly rough case. The team managed to save the most recent victim, but only to discover three more hidden on the unsubs property. And to make it worse, they were children. Everyone on the team keeps shooting you concerned glances, worried that you might break. It’s only fair. You are still the newbie.

You started at the BAU one month ago to the day. Your previous position was a desk job, but you were ready to get back into field after two years of endless paperwork. Not that the entire team knows you had been in the field before. Only Hotch knows. You don’t like to talk about it. You had gone so far as to cut Hotch off to prevent him from bringing it up on your first day.

You are counting down the floors with each beep as the elevator rises to bring you to the floor that houses the Behavioral Analysis Unit. To say you aren’t nervous would be a lie, but that comes with the territory of starting a new job. Especially a job with one of the most elite units of the FBI. It’s hard not to be intimidated.

The elevator doors slide open, revealing the all too familiar glass doors that lead to the BAU. When you were trying to decide if switching career paths was the right decision, you found yourself staring at these doors far more than you’d care to admit.

You walk through the doors, immediately heading for Hotch’s office. He told you to meet him there first thing this morning. You knock on the open door to draw his attention.

“Agent L/N, please come in.” He looks up from the file he has open on his desk.

“Agent Hotchner, I would just like to thank you again for the position.” You have to stop yourself before you ramble on about how grateful you are for his taking a chance on you.

“Please, call me Hotch. You’re new ID was just dropped off.” He says, handing you the plastic card to put in your credentials. You take a moment to admire the way your name looks just above the words “Behavioral Analysis Unit” before sliding it into the wallet.

“I wish we had time for a more thorough welcoming, but we just got a case. I’ll introduce you to the team in the conference room.” He rises from his desk, you following behind him to a room already full of profilers. Of course, you already know of them all, but the introductions are nice nonetheless.

“L/N, these are SSAs Emily Prentiss, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, and Jennifer Jureau and our technical analyst Penelope Garcia.” You shake hands with each member of the team as there name is called. “Team, this is SSA Y/N L/N. She transferred from violent crimes-” You know he is going to bring up your previous field work, so you cut him off.

“It’s an honor to meet you all.” You smiled at Hotch, trying your best to get him to move on. Thankfully, you can see in his eye that he understands why you don’t want to relieve your past field experience.

“Actually, that’s not all. Dr. Reid is on leave at the moment, but you’ll meet him when he returns.” You nod, taking a seat next to Derek. “Garcia, you can start now.”

The memory fades and you try to ignore the concerned glances from everyone on the jet. Yes, you were the one to find the children in the back shed, but you have techniques to handle this. You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing. It comes with the territory of undercover work.

You are more concerned with the wellbeing of one Dr. Reid. This is the first case you’ve worked with him, but it still feels like something’s off. Granted, you don’t know why he was on leave or how long it lasted.

After everyone else is asleep, barring Hotch who is too focused on his reports to pay you any attention, you slide down into the seat across from Spencer. He doesn’t even glance up from his book.

“Dr. Reid?” You can tell he’s stopped reading at the sound of your voice, but it takes him a moment to actually look up at you. When he does, you can see the sadness in his eyes.

“L/N. Are you okay?” Of course he would ask you that. You’ve known him for all of 72 hours, but he’s still concerned about you’re wellbeing. The way your heart flutters at the sentiment catches you off guard.

“Oh, um, I’m fine. I actually wanted to check on you.” He looks startled at that, but you just push forward. “I know we only just met, and I have no idea what you’re going through, but I just thought maybe I could help.” You can see the instant you finished talking that it was a mistake. He is clearly not ready to talk about his demons, especially with a near stranger.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“ “No, you shouldn’t have.” His words are defensive more than anything. The words of someone who just went through unbelievable pain “You couldn’t possibly help me. Unless, of course, you’ve been kidnapped, tortured, and drugged, shot multiple times, and witnessed the love of your life being murdered in front of you just to name a few. I’m sure you have plenty of experience with that given your work in violent crimes.” The sarcasm is obvious, with violent crimes being a desk job. He mistakes the tears that spring to your eyes as pity rather than understanding. He scoffs, going back to his book while you wander back to your previous seat, trying to control your emotions.

Spencer doesn’t know about your time undercover. He doesn’t know you experienced all of those things. He doesn’t know about the scars that line your torso or the more prevalent scars on your heart. You try not to take it personally. You’ve had years to deal with your trauma. His is clearly newer. You tell yourself over and over that he’s not angry with you, but with the world. You just happened to be the first available outlet.

When the others wake up, they assume your red eyes are due to the case. That you are finally breaking down after a month on the job. They offer words of encouragement and promises to be there if you need to talk. They stress how you aren’t alone. They all know how you feel. You simply nod, gathering your things before heading home. You can’t help but think there is one of them who knows exactly what is going through your head. It’s the first time you’ve cried over Cameron in three months, the last time being the anniversary of his death.

-------

The next year at the BAU flies by. You actually feel like part of the family, knowing you could talk to any member of the team when you need a friend. Well, almost any member of the team. You and Spencer didn’t click the way everyone thought you would. Ever since the conversation on the plane, you hold back when you’re with him. It’s not that you two avoid each other. You’re just more like coworkers than family. You converse when you need to, but don’t seek each other out.

Nobody understands why. Hotch especially thought the two of you would become close. You can see why he would think so. From your brief encounters with Spencer, you can tell he’s been through hell. Hotch was probably hopeful the two of you might bond over shared trauma, act as an anchor for each other to know you aren’t alone. Of course that required you to share your trauma with the team, which definitely has not happened.

It’s not that you don’t trust them. It’s just that the moment hasn’t provided itself yet. First of all, you can’t just casually bring up being kidnapped and tortured for government secrets with your fiancé who was then murdered in front of you. Second of all, something in you says it would crush Spencer. You can tell he clearly still feels bad about what he said to you that day.

You two hadn’t talked about it. It was a year later, and you still hadn’t talked about it. You would think he forgot, but he does have a rather prolific memory. Everything was fine though. Mostly. He still seemed nervous around you. Or maybe you were projecting. There is something about Dr. Reid…

“Y/N, can I talk to you?” You were honestly surprised to hear Spencer’s voice saying those six words. Everyone else had already gone home, even Hotch. You just wanted to finish one more file.

“Of course, what’s up?” You try desperately to sound casual, to pretend like you weren’t just thinking about him. Despite not talking to Spencer all that often, you still have a massive amount of respect for him. Watching him work is incredible. You would expect most people with his intelligence to come off as cocky, but he is somehow still so humble.

“I just wanted to apologize. For what I said on the jet. I was in a bad place, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have said those things, you were just trying to help me, and I threw it back in your face. Also, I’m sorry it took me so long to actually apologize. I just felt so awful, I didn’t know how to bring it up and the longer I waited the more nervous I became and” “Spencer,” he looked startled at the sound of his name. Granted, you normally call him Dr. Reid or Reid when you’re feeling more casual, but still. It’s his name, why is he so surprised you’re using it? “You didn’t do anything wrong. Trust me. You were dealing with an amount of grief nobody should have to go through. I shouldn’t have tried to step in without knowing more about the situation. I’m sorry.” This is your chance. Tell him what happened to you. Come clean about it all.

He just looks so… relieved. As if you had lifted a weight off his shoulder just by telling him you understood he didn’t mean it. Seeing the hope in his eyes, you couldn’t bring yourself to put any of that weight back on him. He had just freed himself, he doesn’t need your problems weighing him back down.

You can tell he still feels bad, but maybe now the two of you can try to move on. Maybe you’ll actually become friends. Telling him that you have indeed been through all of those things would just bring all that guilt back. For some reason, there is nothing you would rather do than protect Spencer Reid from pain.

So, you’ve resigned yourself to never telling anyone unless you absolutely had to. You convinced yourself it was a secret you could take to the grave. Nobody needed to know.

Until one day, they do. And that day happens to be tomorrow.

“Hello, crime fighters. This one is a doozey.” Penelope walked into the round table room and immediately jumped into the case. “Three heterosexual couples in Plano, Texas have been killed. The details are on your tablets. Be warned, it is not a pretty sight. All the victims were tortured. The men all died of blood loss. The women were drowned after multiple non fatal gunshot wounds and other various forms of torture.” You tensed ever so slightly at the description of the crimes. Hotch shot you a concerned glance, but you waved him off with a slight shake of your head. You zoned out for the rest of Garcia’s description, deciding instead to focus on every detail you could learn from the case files on your tablet.

“Wheels up in 20.” Hotch’s voice drew you from your focus on the files. “Y/N?” You looked at him from your seat at the table, realizing everyone else had already left. “If this is too much for you, everyone would understand.” You stand, plastering the fakest smile Hotch has ever seen on your face.

“I appreciate the concern, but there is a job to do. And I intend to do it.” There is no malice behind your words. Only a fierce determination to catch this unsub before he can hurt anyone else.

“Alright, but Y/N, please. Let me know if you need to talk about it. The whole team is here for you.” You features soften into a genuine smile before you respond.

“Thank you, Hotch.” And with that, you exit the room. You grab your go bag, meeting the other agents by the elevator.

The flight to Texas is long enough that the team’s discussion doesn’t prevent everyone from catching up on sleep. While everyone else is resting, preparing to start up again on the ground with fresh eyes, you are pouring over every detail again and again. You just need to know if it’s the same people. The same people who killed your fiancé. The same people who tortured you.

It was a day like any other. You had just gotten to the bar you were working at as a cover. Cameron was working security, you as a bartender. The mission was supposed to be simple.

There was a domestic terrorist cell operating just outside of Plano in Addison, TX. The leader was believed to own the very bar you had gotten a job in. You were supposed to gather intelligence, and report back. You weren’t supposed to engage with the terrorist cell. It was a simple mission.

That day, the day you could never forget, started exactly how you expected it to. The leader was supposed to be meeting with his right hand. You were supposed to learn who or what they were planning to target. You still can’t pinpoint the moment you knew something was wrong.

Everything was normal when you clocked in. Everything was normal when you served you first few customers. Everything as normal when you walked up to the table hosting the meeting and asked if you could get them anything. Everything was normal until it wasn’t.

You remember waking up in a warehouse. Cameron was tied to a chair across from you. He was injured, bleeding from a cut in his side. It didn’t look that bad, but there was so much blood. How could such a small cut produce so much blood?

You had a million questions, but couldn’t form the words to ask them. You’re mouth felt like it was full of cotton. Cameron looked at you as if he knew something you didn’t. You suppose he did, given that he was awake before you. But that’s not what concerned you the most. No, it was the look of pure terror in his eyes. Pure terror, mixed with… resignation? That doesn’t make sense. Why would he be giving up?

Finally gathering enough strength to speak, you mumble “What happened?”

“Y/N… they know who we are. I don’t know how they figured it out, but they did. They are going to hurt me to get to you. You can’t let them, okay? Stay strong. Everything will be fine.” His words are rushed. You have a hard time following them, as if the words drift into the air, only to enter your head in a different order.

Before you have a chance to ask any more questions, you hear a door swing open behind you. You can hear the footsteps, but can’t turn around enough to see who they belong to.

“Do it.” You know that voice. You know you know it, but you can’t place it.

A man appears from your left. He stands in front of you, a mask covering his face so you can only see his eyes. “Let’s have some fun.” You’re ready for him to hit you. Or cut you. Or hurt you in any way. What you’re not ready for is him pulling a knife only to walk over to Cameron.

“No” The word is barely there. You aren’t even sure you said it out loud.

“Y/N, don’t tell them anything. Okay? I’ll be fine.” Cameron is looking at you with pleading eyes. You both know he’s lying.

“Your fiancé here is a liar.” The man sneers, dragging his knife down Cameron’s arm. “He will most certainly not be fine.” With that, the man plunges the knife into Cameron’s stomach. A gut wrenching scream leaves his mouth as the man moves the knife around inside his body. You try to control your reaction, but tears instantly spring to your eyes.

“Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll leave your man alone.” There’s no point. Cameron would never forgive you if you gave up information to the enemy. He’s always been a loyal soldier. Either way, deep down you know he won’t live much longer. He’s lost too much blood. You are going to have to watch the man you love die. He’s going to bleed out in front of you. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

You are shaken back to reality after the jet has landed. You slowly come to, realizing you must have fallen asleep while you were looking at the files. You can’t get the eyes out of your head now. The last time you had a nightmare was 6 months ago. Although, this was more of a memory than the usual nightmares you have.

“Y/N/N? You good?” Morgan is looking at you with concern that hasn’t been there since your first month on the job.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just groggy.” You try to laugh it off, walking past him and jumping into an SUV. You’re supposed to go with Hotch to the precinct to set up, so you can avoid the rest of the team’s questions for now.

You bury your head in the files again, trying to discern if anything feels off or if it is all too similar to be a coincidence.

“Just answer the question. This will all be over.” Cameron is dead. You are staring at his lifeless body as the man tries to torture you to get the answers he wants.

With all the strength you can muster up, you spit at him. “I didn’t break before and I won’t break now. Do what you want to me. You’ll never get your answers.” “Oh everyone’s got a breaking point. I’ll find yours.” With that, he storms passed you and out of the room.

You try to inventory the damage he’s done, but it’s hard because he typically drugs you when he leaves. You’re too disoriented to remember everything. You haven’t heard anything else from the first voice, but you finally realized it was the owner of the bar.

You are just about to drift back into unconsciousness when you hear a loud crash from somewhere in the building. You expect the masked man to come running back into the room, but instead you’re greeted with the face of the terrorist cell leader. He pulls you to your feet, mumbling about how this wasn’t part of the deal.

You don’t have the energy to protest as he pulls you down hallways and through doors. He bursts into a large open room. It smells like chlorine, but your eyes are too fuzzy to figure out why. The lights just got so much brighter, and you can’t see. You keep slipping on the floor. The third time, you fall to the ground. Everything is wet. He’s kicking you now. No, rolling you. It all feels distant. As if it’s not happening to you, but rather you are watching it happen to someone. Like a movie.

You hear the splash before you register the water surrounding you. You’re sinking. It’s actually quite warm. Like a comforting blanket tucking you into bed. The sounds of people yelling fade out as the water covers your head. You feel at peace as everything fades to black.

Suddenly, the peace is gone. You can hear voices. They sound loud, but still distant. Like you are swimming and someone is trying to talk to you from above the water. But the ground is hard now. There’s loud bangs too, but you can’t figure out what they are. There’s no pattern to them, but suddenly they stop. Maybe you’ll never know what they were, oh well. You just want to get back to the peaceful darkness.

Instead, you feel burning in your lungs and a pounding in your head. It feels like someone is punching you in the ribs. No. No. No. Where’s the peace?

All at once, the burning liquid is expelled from your lungs and your eyes fly open. You try to spin around, to see what’s happening, but everything hurts. Your lungs are trying to fill with air. Your eyes are trying to adjust to the lights. You head is begging everything to just stop making noise. Then, darkness. It’s not a peaceful transition this time. It’s sudden, as if someone turned everything off.

“Y/N?” The sound of your name draws you out of the memory again. You turn to see Hotch’s concerned expression. He’s parked the car outside of the station.

You take a few deep breaths before speaking, trying to prepare yourself for what you never wanted to have to do. “I have to tell them.” Hotch nods with a grim expression on his face.

“The team won’t judge you for keeping it a secret. We’ll all be there for you.” He tries to smile, but it’s more of a grimace. He’s too worried about you.

“I know. It’s not me I’m worried about.” For the first time since you met him, Aaron Hotchner looks confused. It’s actually kind of funny. Although, your laughing sounds more delirious than amused.

“Hotch, my first case with Spencer, do you remember it?” You shudder at the memory.

“Of course. It was hard on both of you.” Your smile feels weak, even to you.

“Well, I tried to check on him. I had only just met him, but he looked so sad. I wanted to take his pain away.” You can feel the tears coming, but you can’t figure out why. “He said unless I had been kidnapped, tortured, and drugged, shot multiple times, and witnessed the murder of the love of my life there was nothing I could do to help him.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at Hotch. His worrisome expression will just make you feel worse.

“You didn’t tell him.” The realization is evident in the lilt of his voice. Turning toward him, you try to explain, but he cuts you off. “He was listing trauma you’ve both experienced, and you didn’t tell him.”

“Of course not, he would’ve felt so guilty! He already feels so guilty and he has no idea. We talked it out, you know. We were actually becoming friends, although it was hard to see from an outside perspective.”

“You had me fooled. The two of you barely talk.” Hotch looks incredulous. You’ve never seen so many emotions on his face in one day, let alone one conversation.

“I know. It’s still new. Honestly, it happened yesterday.” Hotch actually chuckles at that. “I think he still feels bad that my first impression was him yelling at me. He’s going to feel so guilty, and I just wanted to keep that pain away from him. He doesn’t need my emotional baggage on top of his own.” You can’t read the expression on his face anymore. You can tell he’s thinking something, though he doesn’t intend to share.

“It’ll all work out in the end, Y/N. Reid is stronger than he looks. He’s been through a lot, but so have you. Let’s go catch this son of a bitch.” And the two of you exit the car as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred.

Your nerves build waiting for the rest of the team at the station. Spencer and Derek are last to arrive. You were hoping to have a few more minutes to figure out how to tell them all about the worst moments of your life, but alas the time has come.

Hotch clears his throat to get everyone’s attention. The conversations about theories die out as all eyes turn to him. “Y/N has a theory to share.”

That’s one way to put it. Before you can back out, you jump right in.

“The unsub was a for-hire torturer. I think he left the business and started killing for fun. A sadist. He enjoys the psychological torture of killing the one person you love more than anyone.” You can’t bring yourself to say another word. Spencer looks grief stricken. Everyone else is looking at you in confusion, except Hotch who is looking at you with sorrow. You can’t decide which is worse.

“What makes you say that?” Derek is the first one to speak. He clearly doesn’t understand why you came to that conclusion. Plus, he’s probably confused that Hotch had to introduce your theory rather than just include it in the brainstorming.

“Before I worked in violent crimes, I worked in the National Security division. I focused on domestic terrorism. We had a mission go wrong. It was supposed to be a simple, just gathering intel. Something went wrong and two agents were abducted.” You unconsciously decided to depersonalize the story. It’s something Hotch quickly caught on to, but what can he do about it? You just need to get the words out.

“They were a couple. Engaged. The man, he died from three precise wounds to the abdomen. He bled out while his fiancé was forced to watch.” You’re grateful when Emily interrupts.

“Did the woman drown?” The woman. You.

“No. Well, yes. She was dead for 3 minutes when they found her. The cell leader dumped her into a pool in the building she was being held in. They caught him trying to flee the building. When they questioned him about a partner, he said he hired someone to torture the couple to get information. He didn’t know where he went. I think that’s the unsub.”

Instantly, the team is theorizing. You stay quiet, listening. Where could he have hidden for this long? Were there more crimes in other states? Can Garcia look through unsolved double homicides that fit the signature? Before long, Derek asks the question you’ve been dreading.

“Can we interview the agent who survived?” You’re grateful that he’s looking at Hotch when he asks. Spencer, though, his eyes haven’t left you since you started speaking. He knows. You know he knows because you can see the weight bearing down on him. You tear your eyes away from him when Hotch clears his throat to get your attention.

“Y/N, can we interview the agent?” His tone is gentle. Hotch knows what he’s asking. Are you ready to tell them the truth? To share this pain with all of us?

“Yes. You can interview her.” You are visibly tense, but Morgan is just confused about the interaction. Why would Hotch need to ask you for permission? Why does he sound like someone just kicked his puppy?

“Great, when can she get here?” Of course, Morgan would ask the next logical question.

“She’s already here.” Your voice is quiet. He almost doesn’t hear you.

“What? Where?” He knows he’s missing something. It’ll only take him a few more seconds to put it together, but you save him the trouble.

“Right here.” You gesture to yourself, eyes flitting between Spencer’s and the ground. The rest of the team didn’t hear you. They were still working out theories as you, Morgan, Hotch, and Spencer converse in cryptic sentences and brief eye contact. Spencer is frozen in place. Hotch was stressed for you. It’s never easy to share past trauma, let alone when you feel like you don’t have a choice.

The realization hits Morgan so fast he almost falls to the ground. He rushes to you, pulling you into the tightest bear hug you have ever experienced. Morgan has become like an older brother to you. He always jokes about how he would beat up anyone who hurt you. You always joke right back about doing the same for him. He told you about Carl Buford a few months ago. It was also on a case. You would’ve told him everything then, but you didn’t want him to feel like you thought the two were comparable or that his trauma was somehow less important just because you’d been through some bad shit too.

His actions drew the attention of Rossi, JJ, and Emily though. You weren’t an overly emotional person usually. Undercover work made you good at compartmentalizing, so you never really sought out someone to comfort you. The sight of you in tears, wrapped in Morgan’s arms threw them for a loop. You normally waited until you got home to go through your routine to decompress. It was easier that way. But right now, the thought of even looking at Spencer was enough to bring tears to your eyes. You just couldn’t stop thinking about him. It felt weird, to be sharing such an intimate part of your life with everyone and still be thinking about him. You had moved on from it all though. You knew how to deal with it. Of course, you still love Cameron, but you talk about everything in therapy once a week so you won’t break down like this.

You see JJ look to Spencer for an explanation, but he’s too busy looking at you with more pain in his eyes than should be possible. He knows how it feels to see someone you love die right in front of you. He knows how it feels to try and move on from being drugged and tortured. He knows how it feels to be alone in it all. What he doesn’t know is how it feels to try and help someone through that grief only to have your own thrown back in your face. That’s what he did to you. Albeit, unintentionally but he did that. And it is so clear that he feels awful. You wish you could talk to him, but Morgan is pulling you into a different conference room for a cognitive interview that you somehow agreed to in your state of shock.

Hotch explains the situation to Rossi, Emily, and JJ. Spencer’s guilt only pushes further down on him when he hears it all again.

He stares at the room you’re in through the class doors of the conference room. He hasn’t moved in the ten minutes you’ve been gone. He expected JJ to talk to him first, but he was surprised to find Hotch instead.

“Y/N told me in the car that she was scared to share that story.” Hotch starts slow, trying to ease Spencer out of his own head.

“I would be too. It’s a painful memory to relive.” Spencer responds with a familiar tightness in his chest.

“She wasn’t worried about herself though.” Spencer’s head jerks up to meet Hotch’s stare.

“What do you mean? Who else would she be worried for?”

“You.” Hotch says it as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. You being worried about him when you share your darkest memories.

“Me?” Spencer practically falls out of his chair in an effort to sit up straighter. “Why would she worry about me?” Despite his genius IQ, he can’t fathom why you would worry about him in this scenario. If roles were reversed and he had to tell the story of watching Maeve die, he wouldn’t be worried about you. He slowly comes to the conclusion that he would be worried about you though. Now that he knows you’ve been through something similar, he would worry about you anytime it was brought up. Anytime anything remotely similar was brought up.

“She told me what you said to her on the jet after your first case together.” Spencer falls into himself at the memory, his guilt pushing his shoulders down. “She said you still feel guilty about it. That hearing the things she has been through would push all that guilt back to the surface. More than anything, she wanted to protect you from more pain.” Hotch seems to know more than he’s saying, but Spencer is too shocked to profile him.

“But, I, how would, but…” Spencer is muttering the beginning of every thought running through his head, but he can’t seem to form a complete sentence. “Why?”

“You’ll have to ask her.”

Between your cognitive interview and Garcia’s sleuthing, the team find the unsub rather quickly. You stay at the station when the team goes to catch him. You try to protest, but Hotch, Morgan, and Emily stare you down until you concede. Really though, it was the concerned look from Spencer that convinced you to sit down and wait. The case wraps up quickly after that. The masked man ended up being Kyle Beckett. A classic sadist.

It brings you more closure than you would have imagined to know he will be locked up for the rest of his life. You spent a lot of time in therapy trying to cope with the fact that he was never caught. And now, it’s over. You’re also extremely grateful you didn’t have to face him, although you would never admit that you were actually glad to stay behind. They can all tell though. They are profilers after all.

You can’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu at all the stares you’re getting on the jet. It’s as if time itself was rewound to a year ago. You feel like the newbie again. Getting ready to have a heart to heart with Spencer. You’d be blind not to notice the parallels of the two situations when Spencer slides into the seat next to you on the jet after everyone else falls asleep.

The silence is comforting at first, but quickly becomes unbearable.

“Hi” You have a sleepy smile on your face when you say it. You are unbelievably exhausted after everything that happened. Too tired to fully conceal the emotions you know you have been denying. You’re always happy when you talk to him, even if the occurrences are a bit far and few between compared to other members of the team. “You look sad.”

His mouth actually twitches upward at that statement, which you count as a win in your book. “You’ve been through hell on this case, and you’re still worried about me.” You can’t tell what he’s thinking. He’s too good at hiding his thoughts inside that big beautiful brain.

“I’ve always worried about you. Ever since I met you. You just looked so sad and I wanted to make it stop.” You aren’t thinking before you speak anymore. Probably why Spencer suddenly looks so surprised.

“Is that why you didn’t want to tell me?” Now it’s your turn to look confused. How did he know that? “I may have talked to Hotch earlier…” It takes longer than you’d care to admit for you to understand what exactly Hotch told him. But still, you’re too tired to be bothered.

“I’m sorry if that was weird for you. It’s just, after we talked about it I thought maybe we could eventually be friends or something. I didn’t want you to be sad again. I know what it feels like to be sad. I also know what it feels like to be sad again when you realize someone else is sad for that same reason.” You must actually be exhausted because it feels like you’re talking in riddles. “Sorry, that doesn’t make sense. I just mean, I didn’t want you to feel bad about it again. I didn’t want you to feel more pain” You’ve started leaning toward him, about ready to pass out.

“You’re incredible. You truly are amazing. I don’t think a day will go by where I don’t feel awful for what I said to you, but maybe with enough time I can make it up to you.”

“I would like that.” You smile brightly as you look into his eyes. They seem sad still, but there is a brightness there that wasn’t there before.

Spencer doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he lets you lay down in his lap as you drift off, the soothing feeling of his hands in your hair lulling you to sleep.

You wake up as the jet touches down. The memories of your conversation with Spencer bring a smile to your face. He looks down smiling when you shift in his lap.

“Thank you” You’re not surprised he still feels like he needs to thank you.

“I would do anything for you Spencer Reid.” You get up to collect your belongings, turning back only when you realize he hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch.

“Spence, let’s go.” Spence. He likes the sound of that. Maybe, just maybe the two of you will be okay.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #spencer #spencer reid one shot #mgg

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let-it-show · 2 years

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Deluge pt. 5 - A Kiss Beneath the Sun

Part 5 of my Elsanna week fic and heads up it is much longer than the previous parts. Not ginormous but I uummm got carried away. An emotional talk happens, and Elsa realizes that maybe, she needs to, well, chill out. But also...there’s more. It’s not what she expected but life is full of surprises. Part 4 is found Here! ~***~*** Keeping herself busy all day proved to be an easy task and Elsa was torn between grateful and exhausted at the end of it. She had to meet many more people, including those who accompanied Hans from the Southern Isles. They seemed to be a genuinely warm group and whatever she thought of Hans - she liked them. Trade negotiations were renewed and even improved before long. In fact, most of her meetings with different dignitaries went very well. The only rough spot was when she met the Duke of Weselton who, aside from trying to be a bit greedy in their talks, prodded Elsa a little too much about her powers. She handled it with grace even if what she really wanted to do was pop him between the eyes with a snowball. Such rowdy behavior wasn't acceptable as a queen, sadly.

Instead of taking dinner with Anna and any guests, Elsa took it in the study. She felt guilty, but only briefly. Despite being hard at work all day, there was still more to do. There would always be more to do, she knew, but as she started off things might be particularly challenging. That meant she couldn't really spare the energy to focus on Anna and what was going on with her, and it maybe meant that the space between them could grow naturally without Anna hating her. She just had to keep her at a distance when not working.

Unfortunately, for Elsa, that plan was sabotaged immediately. She had dragged her tired feet to her bed chambers, eager to at least try and sleep. When she pushed open the heavy door to her room, she was greeted by a sight she didn't expect at all.

Anna sat on her bed, in her nightgown, her legs curled beneath her as she half laid against the big plush pillows. On the table a lamp provided warm light.

"Anna!?" Elsa called before catching herself and her sister looked up. "I...what are you doing in here?"

For a moment, Anna didn't say anything, just staring at her with a troubled look on her face. However, being Anna, she couldn't stay quiet for too long. "Um...I really needed someone to talk to," she finally answered and started playing with one of her twin braids, the only way her hair didn't go bonkers in the night.

Elsa tilted her head and slowly began to walk forward. At the moment, the temperature in the room was normal and warm, so she decided not to chase Anna out. "Did something happen?"

"Yes and no..." Anna sighed. "Elsa, I know I'm not supposed to be in here, and, not on your bed but I don't...what's on my mind...um, I don't have anyone else I can talk to these things about."

Alarm bells began to ring in Elsa's mind, but she decided to ignore it for the time being. She wanted Anna at a distance, but being outwardly cruel wasn't something she was okay with, and in that moment, telling Anna no would indeed be cruelty. "Well, alright, but I can't stay up too long," she said, standing by the edge of the bed.

Anna stared up at her. "Would it hurt you to just...sit with me, for once? Please?"

Her initial response would have been rejection, but Elsa saw something alarming. She saw tears in Anna's eyes, and she definitely did not like that. "Okay...but you must allow me to change. This is not comfortable or appropriate for the bed," she said, motioning to her formal purple dress and jacket. It was good for official affairs, but she did not find it comfortable for winding down in at night.

"That's okay," Anna said simply, giving a little nod.

"You can start talking while I change, if you'd like," Elsa offered. The quicker they got through it the better. She really did feel very tired. She took a few steps from the bed to her large closet, selecting a light purple and blue nightgown with pink ribbons. Little reindeer and crescent moons ran along the bottom in dark blue, appearing on her chest as well. At her waist two dark purple horizontal lines ran across and around. It was a favorite of hers, and she laid it on the bed.

"The past day...two days...have just been a lot and really weird. I still want to help you. I did learn from both Mother and Father, you know, and I can do things!" Anna said it so defiantly.

Elsa sighed as she unbuttoned her jacket and pulled it off. "I know you can Anna. I do not doubt your abilities." She did doubt her focus, just a little bit. "But this is my duty, this is on me. I do not expect you to take on my workload when you can fill your days with fun."

"I know you don't expect it. I want to. And-and remember when we saw it as OUR workload, not just yours? I still want that."

Elsa raised an eyebrow at that, looking at her sister as she reached behind herself to unlace her dress. Most of the time someone would help with that task, but Elsa had learned to do it herself. "Why?"

"Because - because it was something we were gonna do together," Anna stated.

"Things change," Elsa said, working at her dress.

Anna snorted. "Don't I know it...but they don't have to, Elsa. I know why they did, but there's no reason for it, you know."

Her dress was undone and she started to shuffle out of it. "What do you mean?" she asked, though she had an inkling.

"I know you pushed me out to protect me from your magic. You basically told me when you first kicked me out of the room," she mentioned, and the tone in her voice was insulted. "I understand it. You couldn't manage it because you were so upset about our parents. Fine, I'll sleep in another room, even if all I've gotten are some cuts and a bit of white hair, which actually looks very nice on me, thanks."

Elsa's dress fell to the floor, leaving her in her undergarments and caught off guard. The air around her cooled just a hair. "I...Anna, it could have been much worse. You were so cold you couldn't sleep. I know it was like being in an ice box, I made it that way."

"Yea, I get that," Anna snapped and then her eyes widened at herself. "I mean...I get it, Elsa. It hurt, but I understand. Why can't I help you though, here in the castle? Can't I still be of some use, another pair of eyes for paperwork or I can go out and meet with people in the town or-or something?"

"I...Anna, it's not proper for a princess to be doing that..." Elsa said, slowly tugging at her undergarments.

"So!? I still can! There's nothing that disallows it, and we always planned for it! Do you-do you want me to turn away?" she asked, suddenly quieter.

"No, you can...look where ever you want to," Elsa said even as warmth rose to her face. She hadn't even thought about undressing in front of Anna until Anna actually said something. "While you are correct, it's just...it's just..." she stammered, trying to find a good reason, but Anna had done a thorough job of calling her out. Elsa began removing the rest of her clothing, her chest bare.

There was no way she missed the way Anna stared directly at her, either, her mouth working for a few seconds as she struggled to use her words. Somehow she managed to find them. "Um...you can't come up with anything, can you?" Anna asked, visibly dragging her gaze to Elsa's face. "I'm not in danger from you, and you know what? I'm smart enough to walk away if it gets too cold!"

Elsa's cheeks burned as she stood nearly naked, keeping her bloomers on. She picked up her gown and started pulling it on. "Then why didn't you years ago?"

"Because I was grieving too, Elsa!" Anna's words were angry then. "I didn't want to be alone, no matter how cold I was and no matter how much ice cut me! I needed you badly, and I was heartbroken! You think I really was just so stupid and stubborn I let myself freeze at night for no reason!?"

"I-" Elsa was totally unprepared for any sort of angry confrontation from Anna. She never expected it, which she realized, was kind of ridiculous. The truth snapped out and bit her, fangs seeping into her heart and her guilt flowing through her freely.

Yes. Of course Anna had been grieving, and she'd known that but-but she hadn't been sensitive to that at all. All she could do was feel like a bad person for her magic being uncontrolled, which it was even at that moment. Beneath her, the ground froze yet again.

Anna wasn't having it. "Elsa I still need you! I still want to be part of your life; I want to get back our dreams! Our parents' deaths changed everything, but they didn't have to also take everything! Let me help you, please!" There her voice went higher, pleading.

Elsa was finally in her gown and she stood at the foot of the bed, her entire being overcome with uncertainty. She didn't even know how to respond! She wasn't prepared and she tried to prepare for everything! Had she really made Anna think she thought so little of her? "I'm-I'm sorry," she said, feeling like it wasn't nearly enough. But what was she supposed to say?

That was when the dam broke and tears did start to roll down Anna's cheeks. She sobbed and held her hand out to her sister. "You don't have to apologize. You don't have to feel bad. I don't want that, I just want you," she expressed.

"You want...me?" Elsa asked, slowly leaning down and crawling on the bed, her intention to sit on that end of it.

But Anna grabbed her wrist and pulled, and she pulled hard. She sniffed and sobbed again as she kept tugging Elsa toward her and Elsa rushed in an indignified scramble to keep herself from face planting. Her mind raced and a very light snowfall began to fall over them as Anna then yanked her down, partially on top of her.

Then Anna threw her arms around her and hugged her tightly, crying. "I want you back. I want you in my life, at my side, I want us making plans for the future again. I want your magic, I want your worries and anxiety and insecurity. I want your joy and your laughter," she insisted, squeezing Elsa.

It almost hurt. Elsa couldn't focus on that. She was downright dizzy from the words Anna blurted out. Weren't they something one would say in a romantic story? Then again, she didn't know. Storybooks weren't real life which was a good and bad thing. Maybe she just didn't grasp the sister thing, even after over a decade at that point.

She did know she wanted those things too, though, and she wanted them deeply even if she knew she shouldn't.

Then she immediately felt disgusted with herself. To think like that showed she wasn't even listening to the person she cared the most about in the world.

"Please stop pushing me away. Please, please just let me stay, let me be your sister and your friend! Don't treat me as too fragile to keep around. I'm not, I'm not, if you just knew all the times I fell down the stairs or out of trees, please," she kept on and Elsa wasn't sure Anna knew what she was even saying.

Yet, Elsa understood exactly what her rambles were saying, and something in her heart shifted. She let Anna hold her and cry, her body shaking like a leaf beneath her and all Elsa wanted to do was hold her as well. She couldn't - she physically couldn't move her arms while Anna was flooding her with tears. Hearing Anna cry so much was incredibly painful, but it was her fault.

She was responsible for the sadness and anger Anna felt, and she had to do something about it - but not for herself. She had to do it for Anna, the way Anna wanted.

The way she realized that made her head feel very very heavy.

"Anna, you're squeezing me, please...I won't go anywhere, just loosen your grip," Elsa finally told her.

"Oh-oh," Anna managed between sniffles, and she loosened her grip entirely, allowing Elsa to turn and arrange herself. "I'm sorry. I let all that- I'm sorry."

"You've no reason to be sorry," Elsa said quietly as she turned, resting on her side and raising a hand to the scar on Anna's cheek.The snow still fell, but grew no heavier. "You've no reason at all to be sorry. I've let this," she said, lighting running her finger across the scar. Then she reached for her white hair in the braid opposide her. "And this too...I've let them take over and frighten me..."

"Yup," Anna sobbed out in an ungraceful manner.

It made Elsa smile. "You're right. You're...you're completely right," Elsa told her. "I've wanted nothing but to keep you safe, and in doing so, I've been so unfair. For some reason I-I just didn't think..."

"I know. I got it, Elsa. You were scared and that makes thinking really hard. Sometimes when I got really scared of the dark, I was so um, I couldn't move because I thought that was the right answer, but I didn't think to just turn on the light. Maybe I was afraid I'd see the monsters, but then what? Maybe they just wanted to be friends."

Monsters was a weird direction to take it, but fitting, in a way. She was so scared of being a monster that would hurt Anna, when all Anna would see her as was a big stuffed animal to read stories with. Somehow, that made sense. "Maybe I just needed to let you make a decision for youself instead of me deciding what's best for you..." She felt silly, learning a lesson and needing to say it out loud to the rest of the room.

"Yea. I'm younger than you, but I'm not a toddler," Anna added.

"You are very good at getting your food all over your face like one," Elsa quipped back, before catching herself. It came out in that old natural way and she stroked Anna's bangs.

Anna stilled, and then laughed. "Elsa! You-you stinker, we're being serious..."

Elsa's body relaxed at Anna's laugh. "I know. I know, and I'm sorry. I'm...I'll do better," she told her, and she would stick to it.

"Do you promise?" Anna asked, her voice small.

Did she? More importantly, could she? Well...she kind of had to. There wasn't another choice in her mind. "I promise to do better." She had a compromise. "That doesn't mean I will change immediately or be perfect, but I won't push-hey!"

Anna rolled over and once again pulled Elsa into a hug, tucking her head under her chin and intertwining their legs. "That's good enough. I'll take it. Trying means the world to me, and I'll take it."

Elsa's mouth felt dry. Anna hadn't snuggled up with her like that in years, and it felt good. Good was an understatement - it felt amazing. Anna fit against her body so well and Elsa loved the feeling of their legs tangled. She could feel Anna's heart beating and it thudded against her chest much like the way her own threatened to. She wondered about the implications of that, but her guess was simply that Anna was very emotional at that time.

There was no way she was also thinking about how satisfying it felt to be pressed together like that, and Elsa carefully wrapped her arms about Anna then. She cleared her throat as she tried to manage the sparks rushing through her body. "Uh...so you said something did and didn't happen...?"

"Oh. That. Kolli and Arina want me to visit my homeland and some other family." She said it with almost disinterest, which Elsa didn't expect at all.

"You don't want to?" Elsa asked, trying to control herself with how it felt holding Anna. Heavenly, it felt heavenly. She couldn't let got if she tried.

"I would like to, someday. I want to see where I came from, but a long journey like that right now...I couldn't stand to leave home at a time like this," she said sternly.

"Well...I suppose...yes, if you do help me this wouldn't be the best time to leave the castle-"

"The castle isn't home." Anna gave Elsa a light squeeze. "This is home," she pressed, and Elsa was once again at a loss for words.

"I-oh. Okay."

She felt a soft giggle against her and it was the best sound she'd ever heard. "I'm a lot tonight. It's okay if you don't know what to say. Can I please stay with you tonight though, like this?" she asked and it was almost a whisper. "I won't be any trouble, I just really need this..."

Elsa had to fight the urge to say no, despite everything. She was still scared to have a nightmare and hurt her. That was, if she had any. She had a bit of a gut feeling that nightmares were out for the night if Anna was going to stay in her arms like that.

But then, she was also taking advantage of Anna, wasn't she? Anna, who had been the one to put herself there and rather forcefully at that...

"Sure," Elsa finally agreed even as she could feel her anxiety trying to build. The snow got a little bit heavier and she knew the air around them dropped a little more.

Then Anna did something unexpected. "Thank you," she whispered, and moved just so to press a light kiss against the crook of Elsa's neck.

Her nerves almost exploded while she simultaneously nearly sank into the bed. None of that was actually happening but her skin felt red hot instead of cold. "Y-you're welcome, Anna, Stay as long as you want." She paused. What else should she say? "But I am, ah, very exhausted, so if we can just sleep...Good night," she finally said.

She heard another giggle. "Yes...I need to sleep too. Good night, Elsa."

As soon as the words hit her ears, Elsa felt her body relax even more, and it was a freeing, wonderful feeling. She couldn't ever remember being so at ease. As such, she fell asleep very quickly.

Elsa slept soundly. She did not wake with the worries and nightmares of the night before. He exhaustion and stress combined with holding Anna all night kept her still as a rock. Usually she might at least switch positions, but she didn't.

When she woke her arms and legs and even her neck were rather sore from not being moved any other way all night. Anna had stayed where she was too and when Elsa blinked herself into the morning, she realized her neck felt wet. What was going on was a bit of a mystery at first as her head remained very fuzzy and full. She kind of remembered why Anna was in the bed, but why was she curled up against her and why was her neck-

"Oh...oh Anna..." Elsa groaned out as she realized and slowly rolled away onto her back, stretching as she did so. Anna had always drooled in her sleep, ever since she came back to the castle with Elsa. That wasn't going to change because of the time they spent in separate beds, and Elsa made a face as she used the corner of her blanket to wipe her neck off.

The worst part was that it wasn't even that gross to her. What if Anna had kissed her neck more in the night and it wasn't drool? What if sometime Anna sucked on-

Nooooope.

Elsa sighed in frustration at herself before wondering why it was so damn light in the room, even in the morning. She turned her head toward the window and then rolled her eyes at herself - she'd been so pre-occupied, she had never ever closed the curtains and let the sunlight stream right in. Sometimes that was nice, but at the moment she wished it wasn't so bright. She liked to get up early but in a dimmer light so she could adjust.

If she didn't like it, Anna definitely wouldn't. How the sunbeams hadn't woken her yet, Elsa had no idea.

She carefully moved away from Anna and off the bed. She didn't like it. More than anything she wanted to crawl back over to Anna, but it was time for her to wake up. In addition to that, the responsible thing to do would be to think about their conversation and how to sort of-sort of fix herself and her view so she could try to do things right with Anna.

Elsa was smart enough to realize she was being handed a second chance.

"Where you going?"croaked out a sleepy voice. Elsa stood and looked over her shoulder at Anna, who had one eye open. "Come baaaaaack..."

"It's time to wake up, Anna. Well, for me. You may keep sleeping, but I am going to close these curtains for you," she said, strolling forward and into the light. It was warm and wonderful pouring through the window, bathing her entire being in cheery rays. It was the beginning of a good day, wasn't it?"

"No, no, if I get to do queen stuff too, I gotta get up," Anna declared right before letting out a huge yawn.

Elsa laughed, hesitating in front of the window. "You really don't have to. It's not vital, I just like mornings." She heard shifting behind her.

"Doesn't matter. I need to do it because I just do," Anna told her.

"Hm. Understood." Elsa was still sleepy, and didn't feel like protesting it really. She also had to set her mind to planning for the day already, and maybe where Anna could help her, although... "You can help me this morning, and then you shou-Anna?"

Two arms wrapped around her waist and Anna nuzzled against her shoulder. "Uh huh keep talking."

Her heart was in her damn throat and Elsa's brain tried to work. "Uhhh you should...spend time with Arina and people." Her words did not come out smooth.

"Mm, maybe...and maybe you should turn around."

"Huh?" Elsa was confused and slowly she turned, in Anna's arms. The girl refused to remove them, her tired eyes searching Elsa's. "Anna, what is it?"

"There's...things I also didn't say last night, and I don't know how," Anna answered. The look on her face suggested she was on a mission.

Elsa was more worried than she probably should have been. "Well...say them now. Let me have it." Anna had said a lot, but there were probably problems Elsa had caused her, ways Elsa hurt her, that she wanted to talk about. The start of her day wasn't really the best time, but was any time really better?

"Are you sure about that? I'm not sure it'll really be something you want," Anna said, looking nervous.

"Anything you want me to know...tell me. Please, Anna. I can't do better if I don't know things. I...I want to hear you. Don't hold back," she finished, mentally preparing herself for whatever it was Anna wanted to say.

Anna's gaze shifted down, then back to Elsa's face. "I can only do this cause' I'm not totally awake, and everything feels kind of dreamlike. But it'll get my point across."

Before Elsa could say another word or let out another breath, Anna leaned up and closed the distance. Her lips, soft and tasting like chocolate, met Elsa's in a kiss. As soon as the connection was made Elsa found herself kissing back. Her lips shifted and moved with Anna's, letting Anna catch her lower lip between her own and hold it for the briefest of moments. Elsa's hand found itself on the back of Elsa's head as they kissed and she ran her tongue just barely over Anna's mouth. Anna's lips parted to allow Elsa access and she took it.

Like a beast devouring its favorite meal, Elsa kissed her. Every feeling she'd had building came rushing out as her tongue explored Anna's mouth and her other hand settled firmly on her lower back. She only slipped from her mouth for a split second to breath before reclaiming her lips again.

Anna let her take over and tightened her hold on Elsa. She made her stance clear: She started it, and she wasn't going anywhere. On top of that, she was going to kiss Elsa as long as she damn well pleased.

Elsa only stopped when she felt lightheaded. It wasn't even about getting air, it was more about how she had to put all her effort into not taking Anna to bed. The day before she'd simply been noticing her, and now in the morning, she wanted much more than that. Her breathing was heavy as she tried to calm herself down and watched Anna presumably doing the same.

When Anna finally spoke, her words were a little fragmented. "So..uh..see-you see what I'm saying? I think it's, uuh...I think...you agree maybe?"

The way she spoke brought a smile to Elsa's face and helped her fight herself down. "I'm pretty sure I can't help but agree," she told her, toying with the white-haired braid once again.

"Okay. Okay, good. I was worried I might have to explain myself."

"Oh, Anna..." Elsa chuckled a little, body vibrating all over. "We will...absolutely talk later, but for now you've made yourself clear." She did have to acknowledge what had just happened would have to be discussed...but she found herself too happy to feel serious about it. "Of course...if you want to clarify just a little more, I won't mind."

First Anna blinked at her. Then, a wide grin broke over her face.

In the warm morning sunlight they kissed again. Elsa knew she had crossed her own carefully drawn line - but she couldn't find it in her to care.

#Elsannaweek #Elsanna AU #Fanfic #Elsanna #Frozen AU

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4stars-uswnt · 4 years

Text

A Shoulder to Lean On [Preath x Daughter!Reader]

requested by anon: More preath with daughter!reader? Something a little angsty where the reader came from a toxic home and can’t communicate her feelings very well with them and they’re worried about her a lot. And she finally feels safe enough to tell them she’s not been doing well mentally and they comfort her.

A/N: hope everyone had a happy holidays and a happy new year!! after a much much needed break, here’s some writing! lol it’s pretty long but i hope y’all enjoy it :)

warnings: mention and brief description of abuse, mention of bullying, slight swearing

“You ready, kiddo?” Tobin asks, as she rolls her suitcase to the front door of the apartment.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “I still don’t see why I have to go with you guys. I’m old enough to stay at home alone, and I’ve done it before.”

“You know why.” Christen gives you a stern glare, reminding you of the exact reason, as you roll your eyes.

A couple days ago, you had gotten into a fight at school. One of the guys in your class had been picking on you, calling you names, hitting you, and asking why your moms would adopt anyone like you, not that you’d told Tobin or Christen any of this.

Ever since you had been adopted about two years ago, when you were 15, you hadn’t been the best at openly communicating with your moms, especially about your feelings. Your previous home life wasn’t the best, as your biological parents would verbally, and sometimes even, physically abuse you.

After going through that whole ordeal and then jumping around in foster care, you weren’t used to expressing your emotions nor were you used to having people, like Tobin and Christen, who actually cared for you.

So when the two soccer players took you in and adopted you, it was certainly an adjustment for you. You found yourself often bottling everything up and then lashing out, usually taking form in a yelling match between you and your moms.

Both Tobin and Christen, but particularly the curly-haired forward, were worried about you. They knew you hadn’t ever actually had the chance to process the traumatic events of your childhood, and your coping mechanism of keeping it all to yourself was not healthy. However, every time they tried to talk to you, you would brush them off.

Though, their worried had been heightened a couple of days ago, when they’d found out you’d resorted to physical violence, punching a boy in the face. But they couldn’t let your actions go unpunished, hence why you were traveling with them to Cincinnati for the USWNT’s SheBelieves Cup training camp and matches.

“Whatever,” you mutter under your breath.

“Come on, this is hardly a punishment.” Christen squeezes your shoulder, decidedly ignoring your comment, and picks up her bag, motioning for you to do the same. “In fact, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”

“I doubt it.” You grab your duffel, as the three of you make your way downstairs.

“Emily and Lindsey will be there,” Tobin offers, knowing that might cheer you up. Living in Portland, you spent a lot of time with the two blonde women and formed a sisterly relationship with them.

You shrug, trying to hide the excitement bubbling within you.

“Come on you two,” Christen calls over her shoulder, as she packs the suitcases into the trunk of the Uber.

“Just try and tone down the attitude, for your mom’s sake, okay kiddo?” Tobin suggests, patting your shoulder. You roll your eyes but nod in agreement.

“Let’s just get this over with,” you huff quietly to yourself, sliding into the backseat, as the three of you make your way to the airport.

——————

As you walk into the lobby of the hotel, trailing behind your moms, you hear someone call your name.

“(Y/N)!” Emily runs across the room and hops on your bag, Lindsey following close behind.

You wince, as the two older women crash into you and squish your body.

“You’re here at camp!” Lindsey claps your shoulder. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “I’m gonna head up to my room.”

You give them a small smile, wiggling out of their hold, and approach your moms.

“Could I have a key to the room please?”

“Here you go.” Christen pulls out the card from her coat pocket, placing it in your hand. “We’re having team dinner at 6, so be down by then.”

You nod and head down the hall to the elevators.

—————

A couple hours later, after you’d unpacked, showered, and scrolled through your phone, you walked into the large conference room, where the team dinner was set up.

Knowing the routine by now, you grabbed a plate and began to serve yourself some food. Scanning the room, you decide to take a seat next to Sonny and across from Lindsey, your moms only a few seats down.

As you begin to take a bite of salad, you feel Emily nudge your elbow. “So was what you did so bad that your parents had to force you to come to camp?” The defender shovels a mouth full of food, looking at you expectantly.

You furrow your brow. “Huh?”

“Well,” Lindsey chimes in. “You rarely ever come to national camp anymore, and when you do it’s usually a punishment of some sort because you look miserable.”

“Fair.” You nod, taking another bite.

“Well, you gonna spill the beans?” Mal asks, joining the conversation.

“Just stuff at school.” You shrug, as the youngsters around you exchange glances.

“What happened at school?” Rose raises her eyebrows.

“Nothing,” you mumble, ducking you head. “I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Ignoring you, Sonnett keeps pushing. “Did you not do your homework? Get a bad grade on a test? Ooooo did you get into a fight?” The defender leans forward on the edge of her seat, poking your arm, as the rest of the younger players pause their meal, eagerly awaiting your answer.

You feel yourself getting increasingly agitated, and you clench your hand around your fork.

“Emily!” Tobin calls out from across the table. “Stop being so nosy and cut it—”

“I said I didn’t wanna talk about it!” You yell, as you slam your fist down onto the table, causing the plates and silverware to clatter. The entire room goes silent, everybody turning to look at you to see what’ll happen next.

“(Y/N) (Y/M/N) Press-Heath!” Christen scolds, giving you a glare, nodding her head to the door. “Outside, now.”

You drop your utensils and push your chair away from the table, following your mom out of the room.

Once the two of you are alone out in the hallway, the silence becomes unbearable. Feeling ashamed and embarrassed, you hang your head and avoid eye contact with Christen.

“(Y/N), what happened in there?” Anger evident was evident in the forward’s voice, but she remained calm.

You shrug your shoulders, putting your hands in your hoodie pocket.

Frustrated by your behavior, Christen sighs, “That behavior is absolutely unacceptable, and you know that, (Y/N/N). You want to tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, mom,” you murmur, intensely staring at the plain pattern on the hotel carpet.

“Look at me, honey.” Christen gently lifts your chin with her finger, her eyes softening. “Talk to me.”

You lock eyes with your mom and feel guilt pulling at your heart. You knew that your parents wanted what was best for you and that they actually cared for you, unlike your biological ones, but after what you’d been through, you couldn’t bring yourself to open up very easily.

“I’m just tired,” you easily lie, your eyes fleeting from Christen’s green orbs.

“Okay,” your mom sighs in defeat. “Well in that case, go upstairs and get some rest.”

You give her a small smile and turn to make your way towards the elevators. Before you could get too far, Christen calls after you, “And don’t come back down until you’ve lost the attitude!”

Looking back at her, you throw up a thumbs up, before pushing the up button. After a quick elevator ride up to the third floor, you unlock the hotel room you shared with your moms. Glancing over at your backpack leaning against the desk, you know you should probably start your homework and study for your biology test, but the bed calls to you, and before you know it, you’re fast asleep under the covers, sleep taking over.

—————

The next morning, you wake up in a bed all by yourself. Looking over at the opposite bed, you notice it’s empty, your moms already up. You glance at the clock. 8:17 am. Rolling over to grab your phone of the nightstand, you check your text messages and see one from the group chat with your moms.

Ma 🤙:

Morning kiddo. Breakfast starts at 8 but we didn’t wanna wake you. Hope you slept well. Please be down before 9. Love u

You simply give the text a thumbs up, before sliding out of bed and making your way to the bathroom for a shower.

Once the water is to the temperature of your liking, you step under the hot water, steam filling the bathroom. You were honestly grateful your moms had already gone down to breakfast, as it left you alone to shower in peace.

When you were back at your old home, the shower was the only place you could escape. You would use it as a place of refuge, where the water would drown out all the noise of your parents’ yelling and screaming, numb the pain of your cuts and bruises, and leave you to empty your mind.

Closing your eyes, you let the water hit your face and drip down your body. You try to feel every single drop when it hits and as it falls, grounding yourself in the present.

After a few minutes, you pull your head out from under the water, wipe your eyes, and get on with cleaning yourself.

Once you’ve finished showering and getting dressed, you make your way down to breakfast. You grab a banana and a yogurt before sitting down across from your moms.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Christen coos. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good,” you respond, as you peel your banana.

“You feeling better?” Tobin subtly asks, raising her eyebrow at you.

You nod, your mouth too full to voice a response.

The two women exchange a worried glance, causing you to roll your eyes. “Moms, I’m fine.”

“Alright, kiddo,” Tobin sighs. “Just know if you ever need to talk about anything, we’re here for you.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, giving her a small smile.

“Well,” Christen starts, as she begins to clear her plate. “We have to leave for training in about ten minutes, so you either have two options: you can either come to the field with us and watch training or you can stay at the hotel and do your homework and study for that test coming up.”

You grimace at your options, not really like either of them. Before you can formulate your decision, your mom interjects, “And yes, you would actually have to do homework. Phil agreed to stay back with you of that’s what you choose.”

“Like a babysitter?” You scoff.

“No,” Christen calmly states. “Just someone to make sure you’re actually doing your work. And Phil does have an MD, so he’d probably be able to help you with your biology.”

“I think I’d rather come watch your training,” you decide, wanting to see your moms play, also having some interest in the sport of soccer.

“Awesome!” Tobin grins at you. The forward had been trying to warm you up to the idea of playing soccer, obviously not pushing anything onto you, but she couldn’t be faulted for trying.

“Okay.” Christen nods, putting a hand on her girlfriend’s arm to calm her down. “That means you will have to study and finish your work later.” She gives you a stern look, daring you to protest.

You nod, taking one last bite of your strawberry yogurt and putting the banana peel in the plastic cup.

“Okie dokie. It’s time to go. Let’s get moving.” Tobin slaps the table, getting up from her seat.

After quickly cleaning up breakfast, you follow your moms, along with the rest of the team, onto the bus. Looking down the aisle, you try to find an open seat, knowing your moms sit together.

“(Y/N)!” Emily shouts, waving to you from the back of the bus. “Come sit with us.”

You make your way towards where all the youngsters sat and see that Emily and Lindsey have squished together, making room for you on the aisle seat.

As you plop down, Sonnett rests her hand on your shoulder. “(Y/N), I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have been so nosy. It won’t happen again.”

“Thanks, Em.” You nod, a small smile on your face. “And I’m sorry for snapping and yelling like I did.”

“It’s no problem, (Y/N/N).” Emily grins, ruffling your hair, as she goes back to being her goofy self.

For the rest of the bus ride, you watch and listen to the youngsters antics, ranging from Sam’s terrible puns to Mal’s mediocre rapping. To your surprise, you find yourself having a decent time, glad to be spending time with people somewhat close to your age.

—————

After getting off the bus and arriving to the field, the team slips on their gear and starts warming up. You find a seat on the bench, bundling up in your mom’s puffy jacket.

About an hour and a half later, Vlatko blows his whistle, signaling the official end of practice, but a bunch of the players remain on the field, either getting in some last minute shots or playing a fun game of 1v1 or 2v2.

“Hey, (Y/N/N)!” Lindsey yells from across the field, where her Emily and Mal are playing keep away. “Come join us.”

You glance over to your moms, silently asking for approval, to which they both give you a thumbs up and large grins, encouraging you to go play.

Getting up from the bench, you jog over to the group of younger players.

“So it’s gonna be me and you versus Sonny and Mal. Sound good?” The blonde midfielder asks you, passing the ball to your feet.

All you can do is nod, before Emily is quickly pressuring you, almost stealing the ball. Trying to remember a move you’ve seen Tobin do a million times before, you roll the ball out in front of you, baiting the blonde defender, and then quickly slip it through Sonnett’s legs, passing it to Lindsey.

“Wooooo!” Tobin cheers from behind you. “Nice move, kiddo!”

“You taught her well, babe,” Christen gushes to her girlfriend, bumping their shoulders.

For a second, all Emily can do is stand in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just megged me, (Y/N/N). How could you do that to me?” She gasps, feigning offense, as she puts her hand on her chest.

Rolling your eyes, you playfully shove the older woman. “Don’t be so dramatic, Sonny.”

As the four of you continue your game of keep away, you can’t help but love the way the ball feels at your feet and the way you have complete control over it. The control and freedom of the game feels nice, practically foreign.

Lindsey makes a pass to you, splitting the two defenders. Once you receive the ball, Emily is, once again, quickly on your back, but this time, as you hold the ball away from her, shielding it with your body, she can’t control her momentum and crashes into you.

You fall to the ground with a huff, feeling the wind knocked out of you, as you’re not really used to the physicality of soccer. Rolling over so you can sit up, you grimace. “Ouch.”

“Oh, come on, (Y/N/N),” Emily chuckles, as she moves to stand over you, holding out her arm to help you up. “That tackle wasn’t that hard, probably didn’t even hurt at all. Don’t be such a baby.”

The words ring in your head, triggering old memories of the man who called himself your father. ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ he’d say whenever you whined about something, even though that was to be expected of a five year old. ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ he’d say as he slapped or kicked you. ‘Don’t be such a baby,” he’d say when you told him about the bullies at school. ‘Don’t be such a baby,’ he’d say, and so you didn’t, at least you tried.

As you ground yourself back in the present moment, you to catch your breath, as you gasp for air. The rage ultimately consumes you, as your blinded by the pent up anger and resentment you held towards your father.

You abruptly push yourself up off the ground and get in Emily’s face. “Don’t talk to me like that!” You grit between your teeth.

“Woah, (Y/N).” Emily backs away from you, holding her hands up in innocence. “Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” You yell, pushing the other woman’s shoulders, causing her to stumble backwards.

“Alright, (Y/N/N).” Lindsey quickly moves in between the two of you. “You’re okay.” She tries to calm you down, but to no avail.

Tobin and Christen, hearing the commotion and your yelling, run over to you and gently but firmly grab you, pulling you away from the blonde defender.

“Come on, (Y/N),” Christen scolds. “We’re going back to the hotel. Now.”

The three of you make your way towards one of the team vans, your moms deciding it would be better than to ride back on the bus with the rest of the team.

During the ride back to the hotel, a tense silence hung in the air. You still hadn’t cooled off, your fists clenched and your knees bouncing. Though your mom was upset by your behavior, she couldn’t help but worry, stealing glances at you in the rear view mirror.

The elevator ride is much more of the same, no one daring to speak until you’re in the privacy of the hotel room. Even as you enter the room and take a seat on your bed across from your parents, you’re still silent, waiting for your moms to yell at you.

Tobin waits, her eyes darting between her daughter and her girlfriend, as she knows Christen is usually the disciplinary out of the two of them. Christen, herself, is choosing her words wisely, not wanting her frustration to boil over.

“(Y/N),” your mom begins her scolding. “That behavior is absolutely unacceptable! It’s one thing to be getting into fights at school, but here, at our workplace and with our teammates, that won’t be tolerated.”

You hang your head, as you fidget with your fingers, feeling ashamed and embarrassed.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, sweetie,” Christen gently directs. Lifting your head, you meet the looks of both your moms, and you can’t stop the guilt from bubbling in your chest.

“I’m sorry, moms,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you, or disappoint you.”

“Thank you for your apology.” Your moms move to seat on either side of you.

“We forgive you, kiddo.” Tobin says, taking your hand in hers. “But we’re worried about you. And until you talk to us and tell us what’s going on, we can’t help you and that’s all we want to do.”

You slightly shake your head in disbelief. “Why?”

“What?” Your ma furrows her brows, confused.

“Why do you wanna help me?” You say a little louder, getting frustrated by the thoughts in your own head. After having to fend for yourself for so long, the thought of depending on others was still difficult for you to accept.

“Because we care, (Y/N). We love you,” Christen cries, as her voice cracks, and she rubs your back soothingly.

“Well I don’t need your help!” You exclaim angrily, shaking off your moms hands, as you stand up from the bed to turn to face them.

At your outburst, Christen’s heart breaks with the weight of defeat. Taking a deep breath, trying to compose herself, her face hardens.

“Watch your tone when you speak to us,” your mom sternly states, her eyes telling you that she’s not messing around. “You’re going to stay in this room and finish your homework and study for your test. No TV, no phone, nothing but your school work. Got it?”

You nod, gulping down the knot in your throat, as tears burn your eyes.

“Hand over the phone, kiddo.” Tobin holds her hand out and gives you a sympathetic smile.

Reaching into your back pocket, you pull out your phone and and place it into your moms open hand.

“We’ll leave you to it.” Christen moves closer to you, before kissing your forehead. “We love you, (Y/N/N), and that’s why we’re doing this.”

All you can do is watch as your moms exit the room, Tobin grabbing the television remotes on her way out. Sighing, you plop down on the bed and run your hand through your hair.

For a second, you contemplate just taking a nap and not doing any of your work, but you knew if you did that, your moms would be even more upset, and you did’t want to test that.

So, you unwillingly sit down at the desk and pull out your laptop and notebooks, starting with your history homework.

—————

After about two hours, you’d completed all your homework and started reviewing for your biology test. It wasn’t that school was hard or that you had trouble understanding the material, it was just that you did’t like doing the monotonous work. You never really saw the point in doing homework if you already understood the concepts.

You check the clock and notice it’s 6 o’clock, almost dinner time. Sitting up straight, you stretch arch forward, stretching your back and lifting your arms.

You wonder what your moms wanted you to do for dinner, but seeing as you had no way to contact them, you decide just to quickly grab something from the team’s buffet and pray they don’t see you. However, you have a feeling they wouldn’t be too upset at you for not staying in the room if you were getting food, but you knew you’d pushed the envelope earlier, so you honestly didn’t know what to expect.

Quietly closing the door behind you, you quickly make your way down the hall towards the elevator. Just as you’re about to turn the corner, you hear your mom’s voice.

“I just don’t know what to do. I mean she’s never really opened up to us that much, but she’s never resorted to violence.”

Immediately you press yourself against the wall, hiding yourself but also so you can hear what they’re gonna say.

“Well, I don’t know if you can keep bringing her to camp anymore, especially if she’s gonna act like that.” You hear Megan’s voice echo in the hallway, and you feel a pit form in your stomach.

“Hey,” Tobin protests, coming to your defense. “(Y/N)’s a good kid. I think she’s just been through some stuff, but I think she enjoys coming to camp and hanging out with the team, even maybe playing soccer.”

You fondly smile, hearing your ma defend you to her good friend, even when you weren’t there.

“I think I’m gonna run up some dinner to her after we eat,” Christen says, worry evident in her voice. “I may have been too harsh on her.”

“Babe, it’s a tough situation, but I think you handled it very well,” Tobin tries to ease her girlfriend’s concerns.

“Hey, why don’t I bring her her dinner and maybe talk to her a little?” Ashlyn offers. “I mean I just thought I might be able to get through to her, maybe even share some of my own experiences with her.”

“That’d be great, Ash, thanks.” You see your mom, but you can hear the smile in her voice.

You don’t hear the rest of the conversation, as you turn around and quickly make your way back to your room, now that you know Ash is bringing you some food.

—————

It was about an hour later when you hear a knock on the door. “Hey, (Y/N), it’s Ashlyn. I brought you some dinner.”

Getting up from the desk, you go to open the door, revealing the blonde goalkeeper holding a plate of food. “Hey, Ash. Thanks for the food.”

“Can I come in?”

You bite your lip, weighing your options. “Yeah, sure.” Opening the door wider, you move to let her in.

Following her into the room, you place your plate on the desk, after moving your work to the side. You sit down to start eating, when you notice that Ashlyn is still watching you from the end of your bed.

“Ummm,” you mumble awkwardly. “Was there something you wanna talk about?” You ask, even though you already had a good idea as to where this conversation was heading.

Ash takes a deep breath before talking. “Look, (Y/N), I’m just gonna be straight up with you. I know about the fight you had at school, and I saw what happened at dinner last night, and I saw the almost fight you had with Sonnett today at practice. And I know that you’re not that kid, because I’ve heard what your moms have had to say about you.

“But I also know that this aggression, this anger, that you have, it’s not healthy. I don’t know if it’s some pent up shit or if it’s something you’re going through currently, but whatever it is that’s bothering you, it’s not gonna go away if you keep it to yourself.

“And honestly, I should know because I’ve dealt with some tough shit that life’s dealt me, but you know what? I didn’t get through that alone, and neither will you. But luckily, you have two amazing and supportive moms that are there for you, and will support and love you, but only if you let them. You even have all of us because this team is a family, and so now you’re part of that.

“So basically, I’m just here if you wanted to talk. It doesn’t even have to be about school or what’s been happening. Could be about anything: your favorite food, the stupid biology test I heard you’ve been studying for, Tobin’s weird obsession with using the same three emojis, Christen’s morning routine, whatever you want, I’m here.”

During Ashlyn’s speech, a whirl of emotions circulate your body, but most of all, you feel warm. You feel warm knowing you have people in your corner rooting for you, something you weren’t entirely familiar with before.

Almost as if the older woman’s words had knocked down a damn, your eyes flood with tears, sobs wrecking your body.

“I just— I’ve never had anybody who— They were always so mean— I could never say anything— I didn’t want—,” you gasp, struggling to breath with the intensity of your crying.

“Shhhhh, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” Ash coos, as she wraps her arms around you, allowing you to cry into her chest.

After a couple of minutes, after your tears have subsided and your breathing’s evened out, you sniffle, pulling out of the goalie’s embrace.

“I didn’t really have the best childhood growing up with my biological family, you know, before Tobin and Christen,” you begin to explain the shortened and simplified version of your story.

“My parents weren’t the best, actually they were the worst,” you say with a chuckle, knowing that was an understatement. “The kids at school, Emily at the dinner table and at practice, it’s all just a trigger, reminding me of things my parents used to do and say. I guess, when I was younger, I never really processed what happened, so now, I just react with all this anger that I have for my parents.”

“(Y/N).” Ashlyn squeezes your shoulder. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I really think that if you talked to Tobin and Christen and opened up to them, even if it’s just what they told me, they’d still love you and support you.”

“Really?” You ask, uncertain.

“Mhmm,” she hums. “As much as it would calm their worrying, and you know how much Chris can worry sometimes,” the two of you share a laugh at that, “I think that this is something you need as well: to have parents in your life who will actually be parents for you, who will guide you, support you, love and care for you, tell you when you’re being stupid, give you advice, let you make bad decisions because that’s how you’ll learn, let you be your true self. I think, deep down, that that’s something you truly want.”

You follow her words and nod. “Yeah,” you sigh. “I do want that.”

Ashlyn gives you a soft smile, as she stands up from the bed. “How about I go get your moms and you guys can talk?”

“That’d be great,” you agree. Just as Ash’s about to leave, you call out to her, “And Ash?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” You give her a sincere smile, trying to convey your gratitude.

Ashlyn just nod with a grin, receiving your message, before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

—————

After Ash left, you started to pace around the room, nerves fluttering in your stomach, as you were mentally rehearsing what you were gonna say to your moms.

About ten minutes later, a knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. “Sweetie,” you hear Christen’s muffled voice. “Can we come in?”

“Yeah,” you call back, resuming your pacing, as the two women enter the room.

“Hey, kiddo.” Tobin approaches you. “Ash said you wanted to talk to us?”

“Yeah.” You take a deep breath and shake your hands, ridding yourself of the nerves. As you sit down on the bed, both of your moms take a seat opposite you on the other bed.

“I just wanted to explain some stuff to you guys, tell you my story or whatever, you know, all that jazz,” you stammered awkwardly.

“(Y/N/N), we don’t want you to feel pressured to tell us anything if you’re not ready,” Christen assures.

“No, I need to share this with you. I want to,” you insist, adamantly shaking your head.

“Okay, we’re here for you.” Tobin nods, giving you an encouraging smile.

You take another deep breath before diving into the story of your life. “As you obviously know, my biological parents weren’t really fit for raising a child, which is why you adopted me, but you already knew that.”

You run your hands through your hair, as this was proving to be more difficult than you thought. But looking at the warm and understanding eyes of your moms, you push through.

“My parents, especially my father, were abusive, both verbally and physically. It started as early as I can remember. They would always be calling me names and insulting me if I didn’t do things correctly, even for the tiniest mistakes like leaving the toothpaste on the counter.

“Growing up with that and hearing it everyday, I started to believe it. I thought I was useless and stupid, a no good child, those words ingrained in my mind. But I was taught not to show any emotions. ‘Don’t be such a baby’ is what they’d always say to me.

“So, I learned to hide it all, even if that meant keeping it all to myself. I guess that’s why I’ve been acting out recently; it’s all bubbling over, exploding out of me.”

You quickly glance at your moms, scanning their faces for any hints of disgust or anger, but all you can see is empathy and sadness.

“I didn’t tell you this, but I guess I should’ve: the kids at school bully me, calling me names, insulting me, and sometimes even kicking me. Sometimes, they even talk about you two, why you’re together or why you would adopt someone like me.

“At dinner yesterday, Emily just kept pushing me to talk, which I’ve never really encountered before, and I was really uncomfortable, so I just snapped. And at training, she said ‘don’t be such a baby’ after she’d tackled me, and those words triggered all those memories of my father, and all that anger and hatred I have for him just came out.

Hanging your head, tears falling down your cheeks, you bite your trembling lip. “I know that doesn’t excuse my behavior, and I accept my punishments, but I just thought you should know my past, especially because your my moms and I’m your daughter.”

Through the blur of the pools in your eyes, you see your moms giving you a sad, fond smile.

Sniffling, you choke back a sob. “I’m sorry I’m not the perfect daughter you guys wanted, but I love you, moms.”

Tobin and Christen immediately move to either side of you, wrapping you up in their arms and rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Oh, (Y/N/N),” Christen whispers, kissing your temple. “Sweetie, will you look at me.”

Lifting your head from the crook of her neck, you meet her teary eyes.

“(Y/N), we don’t want a perfect daughter. We want you, every single part of you, even the most scarred and damaged parts of you, because you know what?” She brushes loose hair out of your face.

“Hmm?”

“All those parts of you are what make you you. (Y/N), you are an incredibly intelligent, kind, caring, and beautiful soul, even with all your scars.”

“Don’t forget talented!” Tobin chirps from next to you. “I saw that nutmeg earlier today.” She smirks, as she gives you a knowing look, causing you all to share a wet chuckle.

“Thanks, moms.” You lean your head against Tobin’s shoulder and hold Christen’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m so grateful for you, moms. I love you guys.”

“We love you, too, kiddo.” Your ma leans down to kiss the top of your head, as Christen lovingly snuggles against your side, humming in agreement.

“And just know that if you ever need to talk to anybody or just need a shoulder to lean or cry on, we’re always here for you.”

You nod against her shoulder and close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of contentment and warmth, the feeling of home that you found between the love of your moms.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #preath x reader #preath x daughter!reader #uswnt #tobin heath #christen press #preath

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cafeacademia · 4 years

Text

Guardian | Chapter Two

Draco Malfoy x Muggleborn!Reader Soulmate AU

Chapter Summary: After months of no contact with your soulmate, you begin to finally act on your suspicions, only to learn a difficult truth about your close friend, Draco.

Warnings: Sadness, some fluff, mention of abusive environments (Draco being involved with his father, Voldy and death eaters).

Word count: Approx 3200

Masterlist

NOTE: This story is following a slightly altered AU, in which Fred and George are still at school and Harry does not go for Draco after Katie Bell’s possession.

A/N: Hi loves! Here’s the next chapter! I did struggle a little with this one, but I’m really happy with it. I hope you enjoy this part and I promise there is some fluff coming for these two soon, enjoy! 💖

Flashbacks are separated using *** and use of the soulmate book is highlighted in italics

Previous Part | Next Part

Was it ever enough? The spilled ink, the black stained fingertips having spent hours writing with a quill. The way the pages crinkled under the heavy use, words that did not spell out a work of fiction, but that of the tale of two souls meant to be.

Was it enough to bring back what was lost by writing to him often? You couldn't know, but all you could do was try.

It was well beyond the start of your first term in your sixth year and as the leaves fell and the seasons changed, the forest surrounding the grounds with deep red and orange hues, you wondered where he could have gone, what had happened to him?

But as you wandered through the grounds, the clouds drew in, bringing a sudden downpour with them. Being quite far from the castle, the closest spot for shelter in the heavy rain was the owlery and quickly, you tugged your jacket over your head and sprinted across the wet grass towards the stone tower.

Taking care not to slip on the steps on your way up, you heaved out a sigh when you finally got yourself through the doorway. It wasn’t much warmer in the enclosed space, but it was at least dry.

It was a particularly odd Sunday, the weather had been changing all day, though you knew as winter drew in that this time of year was often very rainy and ever changing, just like autumn itself.

Backing further into the owlery, you shivered, trying to warm yourself up a little bit, but as the strong winds blew across the grounds and swept through the openings between the stones in the owlery walls, you chilled even more.

Suddenly, without even a whisper, having seemingly appeared out of no where, You felt something being draped around your shoulders and you jumped, looking over your shoulder to see yourself face to face with a Slytherin. “Draco?” It came out as a gasp. All he could do was meet your gaze with the cold blue hues of his eyes, barely managing a small smile, one that did not reach his eyes, one that appeared forced and perhaps even painful. His eyes were deep with the weight of his emotions, things he wish he could tell someone, but he had to keep them locked away as far down in himself as he could.

The ashen haired boy had barely even looked at you since the end of the last school year and a few weeks after your return to Hogwarts, it was increasingly obvious that he didn’t want to be around you.

“Harry is under the impression Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater.” Hermione had said it as if even she herself could not believe it to be true and you weren’t sure if you were lucky, or terribly placed at the wrong place at the wrong time to hear something that, despite your better judgement, caused your heart to ache.

What had he been pulled into? You couldn’t know for certain, but even now as you looked up at him and met his soft gaze, you knew that whatever he was taking part in was not through choice.

“Thank you.” You smiled softly, pulling the jacket he had draped over your shoulders around you a little more, only receiving a small nod from him. “Draco.” You reached out for him, your hand catching his wrist before he had a chance to turn away from you. And for a moment, Draco allowed himself to be touched, he allowed himself to feel the warmth of your gentle touch, but as he met your eyes, he slowly slipped his wrist out of your grasp and took a step back. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” He said, attempting a smile before ducking out of the doorway and disappearing down the steps into the heavy downpour.

Your heart ached at the way he had pulled away, at the deep regret he had held in his eyes as he had turned away from you. Pulling his coat around you even more, you were thankful at least, that returning his coat to him would allow you a moment to speak to him soon and you hoped you could get a moment alone with your friend soon.

Having made your way back to the castle after a ten minute wait for the downpour of cease, you headed back up to your dormitory to dry off and warm up. And as you perched on your bed with a blanket wrapped around yourself, you sighed, leaning down to gently take the small leather bound book out of the top of your school bag. Flicking through the pages, you turned to the last one that had been written on, only your handwriting occupying the crinkled, slightly yellowed paper and you sighed, your eyes landing on the words you had last written to him, drawing in a breath to speak them out loud. “Where are you?”

Draco hated it. He hated that every time he closed his eyes, all he saw, all he heard were things that haunted him. It was as if his mind could not truly allow him to rest, not without being reminded what dreadful things were happening and what were to come. But it was the worst when what he saw when he closed his eyes was the way his father had snatched the book from him, his voice full of opportunity.

***

“Do you know who this soulmate of yours is, Draco?” Lucius had asked. “No, father.” Draco lied, keeping his features neutral, his eyes passing over the book that was clutched in his father’s strong grip. Lucius cast a lingering stare at his son, judgement in his eyes as he considered his answer.

Draco knew he could not give away that he did, in fact know who his soulmate was, because surely someone might want to use you against him and he certainly did not put it past those around him to do so. Even if his father were to not use that information, he was sure someone else might, especially as motivation to carry out tasks. He knew already that anyone knowing about his soulmate even existing was bad enough, because even without knowing who you were, people could still use it as leverage. “Now, now, don’t look so miserable. You may have this back once you’ve tended to your duties.” Lucius had told him.

***

Draco looking down, pulling up his shirt sleeve to look at the image of the dark mark imprinted in his skin. Following the curve of the snake as it trailed over the veins in his wrist, Draco felt sick to his stomach. His eyes glanced up to land on the book. It was scratched up, dented and damaged, the golden gilding worn and scuffed off some of the edges, one of the metal corner protectors had gone missing and a few of the gold painted page edges were folded and ripped. It made his heart ache. It made Draco feel a uncontrollable, seething anger, a want to cry and scream and protect what was his with everything he had. But he could not.

They had all ridiculed him, used the book as a way to force him closer to the same lifestyle that they followed and Draco hated it. He resented everything they had used his book to make him do. Because it wasn’t just a book they were using, they had used you. And even though the book was now back in his possession after being confiscated more than once, thrown about and damaged on purpose to taunt him, despite the fact that he now held it as close to him as possible, he refused to use it.

What if someone were take his memories and view them? What if someone found out what he talked about? Or more importantly who he talked to. But with each passing day, his eyes landing on the old, tattered book, simultaneously a symbol of both hope and pain, Draco longer to open the cover and read the contents.

His aunt Bellatrix had tried to force him to read it out, but as if the book had known what was happening to both him and itself, it appeared blank no matter what they did, no matter how they tried to strip it of it’s concealment charms. Draco just could not bring himself to read your words, to see what you might have written in his absence, to see what his silence might have done.

“Soulmates? You can’t be serious, that’s all a bunch of old fairy tales.” Ron brushed it off. “Don’t be ridiculous Ronald.” Hermione sighed, about to curb his argument. “It’s not!” Neville suddenly burst into the argument, having seen you looking rather out of depth from the reaction you’d gotten from Ron. “My parents are soulmates too.” Neville said in a softer tone that time, giving you a kind smile as he looked across at you.

“With a book too?” You asked, now intrigued while Ron gave you both a look of confusion, having genuinely thought you had been pulling his leg when Fred and George had pestered it out of you. “No, they can hear each other’s thoughts.” Neville explained. “Do you know who yours is?” Harry asked, leaning over in his seat to join the conversation. “I can’t be sure, but I have a couple of theories.” You replied, leaning forwards and resting your chin on your hand. “Well, who is it then?” Fred asked with a big grin on his face at the idea of some brilliant gossip. “None of you would believe me even if I told you.”

“I would.” Luna smiled sweetly at you as she approached the bench, Neville almost immediately shuffling up and accidentally bumping George a little to give her some space to sit between you and him. “I believe in soulmates too, they are fascinating, don’t you think?” She asked. ”I just wish mine would talk to me again, he’s been quiet for months.” You sighed as Ron, Hermione and Ginny began to discuss something else with the twins. “You really don’t know who it is?” Luna asked. “My grandmother told me that soulmates are often much closer than you expect them to be, maybe there’s someone hiding in plain sight, waiting for you to realise that it’s them.” She told you, giving you a sweet little smile before she turned away to talk to Neville.

Perhaps Luna was right and perhaps, despite feeling a bit silly for thinking it might be someone you already knew, she was right and if your soulmate, whoever he really was, was very much absent and maybe it was time to really find out for sure.

Ron had suggested the use of Felix Felicis, but it felt wrong to use a potion in an attempt to cheat your way into knowing who your soulmate was, but as the weeks passed and you left the falling leaves behind, along with the events that took place and had shaken everyone who had seen Katie Bell tragically possessed, you began to wonder if the idea wasn’t so bad after all. The year seemed more bleak as time passed and even as you passed into spring, it felt as if the tension in the castle was ready to snap at any moment.

Despite the tempting idea of brewing liquid luck and using it to find him, another part of you was reluctant, not because you felt it was wrong or like it was cheating at something you obviously should see through to the end, but because you had a feeling you already knew who it was.

But just as you feared his sudden coldness being the only worry and the fact that you had not found a single moment in which Draco would take his coat back from you from months ago, you feared the reasons he might not be speaking to you at all. Why was he so cold to you? The chill hurt. Walking into the great hall, the chatter between the trio as you passed them seemed to only be of one thing and it shook you as deeply as it had everyone else who had witnessed it. The horrifying way she had moved in such an unnatural way, how she had contorted and her face had been taken over by something terrible. Katie Bell’s possession.

“It was Malfoy, I’m sure of it.” Harry was adamant and the conviction in his voice was enough to chill everyone in earshot. And when you had swept passed the trio, looking for a seat elsewhere, you turned to see Draco standing in the middle of the hall, his face riddled with regret, shame and something that swam deep in his eyes as he looked at you. He held your gaze for a moment, your movements still as you stood in front of a bench, your eyes not leaving his. It was as if he was silently pleading you, as if he was asking you to help him, reaching out for something, for someone.

But just as you slowly moved a step in his direction, he turned and fled, Harry leaping up from his seat, but being yanked back by Hermione as you rushed after the Slytherin.

You tried to keep up with his quick pace, Draco weaving around corners and slipping through half open doors so quickly that if you hadn’t been paying enough attention, you might have lost him.

Finally, you rounded the doorway into the bathroom, seeing Draco hunched over a sink, his hair messed up and out of place, sobs shaking his body as he tried to wash the pain away with water.

“Draco,” It was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to startle him and he turned to look at you with fear in his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks. Your heart broke, your throat clenching tight at the sight of him in such a state. “I had to do it.” He sobbed, backing against the wall and sliding down onto the cold stone below. “He made me do it.”

Slowly, you crossed the bathroom, carefully kneeling down in front of him and reaching out, tentatively at first to brush his hair from his face. “I tried so hard to protect-.” He stopped himself, a sob interrupting mid sentence and Draco heaved for breath as he reached for you. And just as he had done for you, when he had held you so many times when you felt nothing but pain and hurt and everything in between, you held him in your arms too. The beating of your heart soothed him as he cried against your shoulder, his hands holding you with a weak grip and slowly, his sobs softened as you held him tightly, softly stroking his hair.

“He made me do it.” Draco repeated, parting from you for a moment, pulling his sleeve up to show you, but he would not meet your eyes. The dark mark was like binding seal on his wrist, one that bound him to a life he did not want and you knew that the Draco his father was trying to make him be, was not the Draco you knew.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, pulling him back against you and hugging him tightly. “I’m so sorry, Draco.” You felt the tears well up in your eyes, seeing someone you cared so deeply for, someone who you had secretly bonded with for years was being torn apart and put back together as someone he was not meant to be and you hated to see it happen.

“I can’t be around you, I can’t look at you, he’ll know.” Draco whispered, hugging you tightly around the middle. “You don’t deserve this pain, you deserve something more, something better.” You told him. Draco didn’t feel like he did, he didn’t feel like he deserved anything better and he certainly didn’t feel like he deserved you either.

“I’m sorry.” Draco cried, pulling away and wiping harshly at his tears. “I shouldn’t be talking to you.” He said, moving to get up, but you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could go. “Then talk to me by paper and quill. Like we used to.” You told him, and while your words could have implied your little notes during class or the letters during the summer, both of you knew what that had really meant. “Okay.” He nodded, trying to move away again, but you stopped him once more.

“Hold on, take this.” You said, tears rolling down your cheeks, sniffling as you reached into your robe pocket to pull out the beautiful green handkerchief he had given you three years prior. “You still have it.” He whispered. “Of course.” You nodded, reaching up to wipe your tears away. “I can’t take it, love. You keep it.” Draco said, gently using his fingers to close your own around the handkerchief and pushing it back against your chest.

“I still have your coat.” You added as you felt his touch linger on your hand. “You’ll keep it safe for me, won’t you?” He asked. “Of course.” You nodded. “Why, are you going somewhere?” You asked. Draco paused, almost daring himself to look up at you, to meet your eyes one last time, but he resisted and sighed. “It might be a while before you see me again.” He told you, gently trailing his fingertips over the back of your hand. “But… I will see you again, won’t I?” You asked. “I promise, we will.”

“Goodbye, sweetheart.” Draco whispered, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before he left you alone in the bathroom, walking away to prepare to carry out his biggest and most dreaded task. And he wondered as he descended into the dungeons, how you could ever love him after he had performed the things he must do.

But Draco had been right, because only months later, with no communication with each other aside from the odd glance here and there, he disappeared completely.

Promise me, you will not come looking for me. It was scrawled quickly onto a page and for the first time in nearly a year, you saw his writing join yours again on the paper of your book. You sighed as you read those words, sitting in your dormitory amidst the horrible realisation of what had taken place, that death eaters had killed Albus Dumbledore.

Leaping up from your bed, you grabbed a quill from your bag and opened the inkwell at your desk before writing your reply. I promise, but you must promise to find me when it’s safe. You wrote back.

Minutes passed and not a single drop of ink came through. Minutes turned into hours and while you thought he might not write back at all, you cast a quick glance at the page before you finally decided to try and sleep to see his words amongst yours again.

I promise.

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anti-plexus · 2 years

Text

Masky x Ghost!Reader

Title: Remenant

Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: Death, blood, psychological torture. This is one of the worst fics I've ever written... I mean it. BEWARE.

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Note: If you are the artist that made this, feel free to DM me and I'll give you credit!

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Masky had a lot of kills under his belt. Whether it be from Boss’s orders or his own volition, the act of murder was, to him, as simple as waking up in the morning. It was a state of being, no matter how terrible.

There were, however, certain kills that held a place of reverence within his twisted conscience. The exact reason why evaded him, so he dismissed it as a remnant of the humanity he’d once had, now blackened with corruption and hatred.

You were his first victim; a young, unassuming college student, to be exact. Masky couldn’t quite remember the reason for killing you, but he was vaguely sure it was because you’d caught him in a rather compromising act.

The man he’d been assigned to kill ended up being the second one.

Every once in a while, his broken mind would remember you; how scared you looked when he pressed the barrel of his gun against your forehead. The scream that followed - when he shot you - was strangely easy to recall.

And nearly impossible to forget.

Still, Masky continued with his day-to-day life, which could be narrowed down to three distinct activities: food, sleep, and murder.

He… really needed a life.

Then again, he was a deranged serial killer working for a possibly-eldritch, faceless, suit-loving being. There was no life.

———

Being dead was an eye-opening experience.

After being murdered by a masked killer, and subsequently waking up in a semi-alive state, you eyes became open to a lot of things. It was part of the whole ‘I’m-dead-but-not-really’ experience - which you simultaneously loved and hated.

The first few days had been extremely messy and confusing; how was it even possible!? You died, shot point-blank by the masked psycho. After overcoming said crisis (which was to be expected), your being began to burn with a new, unexplored emotion.

Rage.

Not just against the masked murderer, but certain people in your (previous) life. Your uncle, for example, the pompous, money-obsessed freak. And your parents, for never giving two shits about you.

Revenge against them had been laughably easy, but you still had yet to uncover the whereabouts of the masked killer. He was a hard target to track, but you’d managed to catch him in the act of killing another innocent person.

And so, you followed him all the way home.

The cabin he trekked back to was small, hidden so deep in the forest that it might as well have not existed. The bastard was smart, you’d give him that.

A few days of observation later and you learned the man’s name was Tim, though his work name was ‘Masky’. Quite fitting, in your opinion.

Another perk of being a ghost was that you were able to manipulate objects at will and, by extension, invade dreams, too. That little trick was particularly helpful and you used it to the fullest extent against Masky.

Every night, you made his dreams as terrifying as you could. It wasn’t even hard; he was a messed up person who dreamed of messed up things. It brought a sick sense of joy to your soul when he would wake up, panting and terrified, sometimes even begging it to stop.

There was no mercy. Not anymore.

It got to the point where Masky would outright refuse to sleep, resorting to pumping himself full of caffeine and Modanfinil in a frail hope that the nightmares would stop.

They never did; your desire for revenge was too strong, too twisted.

You were too corrupted to turn back now.

One night, something happened. You floated above Masky’s bed, staring down at him. Dark circles lay beneath his eyes and his skin was papery white. You chuckled. He looks like death.

And then, a voice.

“Why… Why are you doing this?”

His eyes were open - a faded blue color that you would have found pretty, once upon a time - fixed on the ceiling. A sliver of unease curled up your ghostly spine.

“You’re that girl… aren’t you?”

That got your attention. Can he… can he see me?

He blinked, slowly. It was like he was drunk (or high). The shock faded as anger overtook all thought.

You gritted your teeth. “You have no right to ask that, bastard.”

Masky’s thin lips twitched towards. “Called it.”

You didn’t quite know how to respond. “What the hell are you talking about?!”

“I suppose you’re here to haunt me. For revenge, right?”

“Oh wow, you’re so smart,” You said dryly.

He sat up in bed, leaning against the wall, though his eyes didn’t once leave the ceiling. “I’ve never met a ghost before.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed. You’ve killed a lot of people, after all.”

The chuckle that left his chapped lips confused you; how was he so calm?! “Huh. You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

Masky’s eyes drooped. He must be tired. “I don’t suppose you’d let me get a bit of rest? Just one night?”

As if. You grinned, cold and cruel. His gaze wavered - it looked like he was pleading with you - but you refused to answer. Slowly, his eyes closed and his body relaxed.

Just a bit more…

You waited a few minutes before placing your freezing, ghostly hand on his shoulder.

Let the fun begin.

———

Masky couldn’t take it anymore. It had been weeks since he got a full night of sleep. And it was showing. It wouldn’t be long before the Boss took notice, which he couldn’t afford happening.

That girl - that wretched, revenge-driven ghost - played with his mind, poking and prodding with merciless fingers. She hated him, that much was clear, which was painfully clear in the way she ‘interacted’ with him. Even the way she manipulated his dreams spoke volumes.

Masky was beginning to see her as the one he shouldn’t have killed. She was going to be the death of him. Literally.

He wondered if there was a way to kill her. Again.

Until then, however, he would suffer; tortured by both his ‘Boss’ and a vengeful spirit. It was a pitiful existence, really, but one that he accepted nonetheless.

After all, there was no way out of this nightmare.

———

You were growing bored. Feeding Masky snippets of his past, distorted and terrifying, was getting old. You craved something new, exciting (for you, at least).

An idea hit you a month after the bastard began talking to you - a wonderfully-terrible idea. With a gleeful soul, you entered his dreams, something hadn’t done before.

The dream began in a forest, dark and inviting. Blood dripped into your eyes from the wound in your forehead, but you wiped it away with the sleeve of your torn sweater.

After a few minutes of exploring, you found Masky. He was leaning against a tree, hands stuffed in his pockets. You approached and he looked up at you.

“Hello there.”

Something was wrong; his tone was too… happy. “‘Hello’? What’re you playing at, prick?”

He grinned.

BANG!

Sharp pain laced up your side, burningly hot. You inhaled sharply and patted the area with your hands, finding your palms bloodstained.

…What?

A laugh. Masky straightened out and took a step towards you, waving the gun at you.

He… He shot me.

“Huh. I guess you can die twice.”

It hurt. You sank to your knees. “W-What-“

BANG!

…I should have known. Your chest burned as another bullet pierced ghostly flesh. This shouldn’t have been possible, but it was.

Blood leaked past your lips, dripping down onto your ratty-looking clothes.

I don’t want to die again… not to him.

“Does it hurt?” Masky asked, inching closer. You coughed up more blood. “Good.”

“I hate you… you won’t get away with this”

He remained unfazed. “I got away with it the first time. This is easy.”

You hated him. So much. Every fiber of your body screamed at you to kill him, end his pitiful existence once and for all, but the pain of your wounds prevented such action.

It was like your first death all over again, except it hurt a lot more than you remembered.

Maybe it’s a ghost thing…

You chuckled at your own joke. “I guess this is the end, then.”

“I wish.”

And then, a question - the question - tugged at your soul. “Why- Why did you kill me? What did I even do to you?!”

His smile stiffened. “You saw me.”

“And how it that my fault?!” You were mad, madder than you’d even been. The pain dwindled and you rose to your feet, practically shaking with rage. “It’s your own damn fault!”

“You’re right,” he laughed humorlessly. “But I don’t really care.”

And then, he lifted the gun again, aiming for your head. Panic ignited your soul as a bright light began to glow around your body, warm and comforting. The pain disappeared altogether.

“I’LL MAKE YOU PAY!”

In a burst of energy, you found yourself floating above his bed once again.

I’m… out?

You didn’t have much time to process the situation, because Masky groaned and shifted in bed, obviously waking up.

I can’t let him.

This was your only chance.

For rest, freedom.

A knife materialized in your hand; you couldn’t afford to waste this opportunity.

I can’t afford not to care anymore.

With a loud cry, you plunged the knife deep into his chest. Masky awoke with a hideous scream, writhing in pain against the ghostly blade. You held firm, keeping the blade in place until his struggles grew weak.

“Y-Y-You…” Blood spilled onto the sheets, staining them a dirty red.

I’ve always hated that color.

You waited for a few minutes longer, not bothering to remove the blade.

It’s down. He’s done.

Then you turned your gaze to the tall, faceless man standing in the corner.

"If we're really friends, he won't come back."

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inkweaver22-blr · 3 years

Text

Four for four baby! This is perhaps the last of my daily updates as I’ll be busy the next few days. Here’s another little filler chapter but it’s a good one as it’s the first one where we directly see references to other creators’ Monkie Kid works! There’s three references here, two subtle and one explicit. I’ll make sure to have links to each work in the notes at the end of the chapter. Hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Four: Childish Behavior

Tang often feels like the only adult surrounded by children. Literally sometimes.

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If there was one thing Tang had learned about these timelines he kept jumping between was that they were consistently inconsistent.

The minor details that changed randomly but never really affected the outcome of the events from his original time were still abundant and rarely phased him much anymore.

(Although that one time he had platinum blonde hair had been interesting.)

It was when entirely unique situations arose that the scholar was caught off guard.

New events sprung up every now and then and inserted themselves between the original ones. As with the smaller changes, these new scenarios were unpredictable and varied wildly in scope.

A surprisingly durable MK clone that somehow managed to escape being dispelled, gaining independence, and becoming Macaque’s apprentice.

An ocean demon sinking ships just outside the bay and Sandy getting to go on that water adventure he wanted.

MK’s birth parents trying to reinsert themselves back into his life after seeing his achievements on the news.

(Tang was so incredibly proud of his kid for standing up for himself and refusing their empty platitudes. The pranks that he, Mei, and the Monkey King had pulled on them in retaliation were great stress relievers.)

Since Tang could still do his best to help out in each new event without horrible consequences, it seemed the rule of “No Interference” did not apply to them. He supposed that made sense as he had no way to predict when or if they might occur and thus couldn’t change an outcome he didn’t know about.

He was grateful for that small mercy at least.

Still, with how these cycles seemed to be endless so far, a few of these events would happen over multiple timelines.

Getting de-aged by a mischievous trickster demon or spirit was a strangely common occurrence.

MK seemed to be the most popular target for this particular curse. The brightness of his personality seemed to shine even stronger whenever he was reverted into a child, which simply made Tang love the kid even more.

(He wished he could have helped the Monkey King tear Macaque apart for kidnapping their precious little one in that cycle.)

They all had their own turns of having their biological clocks reversed of course. Mei was a little trouble maker, Pigsy was a shy and timid toddler, and Sandy liked to have things he could break apart. Tang couldn’t clearly remember the times he had been de-aged but was pleased when an exhausted Mei and Mk had said he was the easiest of the adults-turned-kids to take care of.

Then there was the Monkey King.

Having to corral a rambunctious young monkey with the strength to crush boulders and the ability to duplicate or shapeshift was not easy.

(He still had no idea how MK had managed to do it alone once.)

With the amount of times they had all been subjected to this specific curse, Tang only really had himself to blame for not seeing it coming.

Tang poured over the scroll in front of him, trying to find the counter for this timeline’s version of the curse. Behind him, Mei distracted a de-aged Red Son, or Red Boy as that’s what the small fire demon was calling himself.

Getting kidnapped by a somewhat feral child with the ability to freely toss around the True Fire of Samadhi hadn’t been the most pleasant start to his day. While being mistaken as the monk Tang Sanzang was a little flattering, the threat of being roasted over the sacred blume flames and eaten had quickly dampened those feelings.

Luckily the young demon had fallen asleep, the fires dissipating as he lost consciousness. If only Tang knew how to cast the Monkey King’s fire ward...

“Ahem.”

Tang glanced up and paled at the sight of a displeased looking Demon Bull King.

“Little thief,” the demon addressed an equally freaked-out MK. “I believe you have something of mine.”

“Father! You’re here,” Red Boy called out as he jumped from Mei’s arms. “I have wonderful news! I’ve found a husband!” He quickly ran over to a petrified MK and leaned against him like he was presenting some great treasure. “Look! Look! Isn’t he pretty?”

Tang had almost forgotten about that particular detail. If they got out of this alive he was never going to let MK live this down for the rest of the cycle. Prerogative of being a dad and all.

“What do you think father,” Red Boy continued, ignoring MK’s desperate plea for him to stop. “I can marry him, right?”

DBK’s expression was frankly unimpressed as he stared down into the hopeful one Red Boy wore. Tang had a bad feeling about what was going to happen and slowly made his way around the room to hide behind MK and Mei who were also backing away.

“No.”

Tang winced a bit at the bluntness of the answer and braced himself for the explosion that was sure to follow.

“What? But… why? WHY NOT?!”

The genuine hurt and confusion in the young demon’s voice would have made Tang feel a bit sympathetic, if Red Boy hadn’t tried to eat him of course.

“Because I said so,” DBK growled as he knelt to be closer to his de-aged son. “Now, enough of this. Time to stop being a child.”

Tang frowned. That was... not how to calmly explain to one’s child about why you were refusing their request. Not if you wanted to avoid a full-on meltdown. He should know, having to take care of a young MK multiple times.

Looking into the Demon Bull King’s scowling visage, he wasn’t sure if the older demon simply didn’t know how, or just didn’t care.

“That’s… NOT FAIR!” Red Boy’s disbelief predictably turned into anger as his hair once again burst into blue flames.

“THAT’S NOT FAIR! I am not a child!” The True Fire of Samadhi burst out around the boy, seeming to startle DBK who took a step back. Tang was just thankful that it wasn’t aimed at him this time.

“I… I’m not-” Red Boy’s anger quickly melted away, as did the fire around him. The young demon sniffed a few times before dropping onto the ground and beginning to cry.

Loudly.

“You’re recording this, right?” MK whispered to Mei.

“Obviously.”

Tang sighed at their antics and looked over at DBK. The demon still looked angry but the scholar could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He seemed completely out of his depth and unsure on what to do.

Tang took a steadying breath before mustering his courage and stepping out from behind MK. If Demon Bull King didn’t know how to act like a good father then perhaps he could show him.

If he survived this he was going to need a vacation to fight back against the grey hairs this was going to give him.

The other adults all looked at him as if he had sprouted another head as he approached the sobbing child and knelt next to him.

“Red Boy?”

“H-huh?” The young demon looked up in confusion at being addressed.

“I know that right now everything seems pretty unfair and that can be upsetting,” Tang soothed, keeping his voice steady and reassuring. “But I promise you that your father has a good reason for not letting you marry MK. Would it help if he were to calmly explain that reason without getting angry at you?” He aimed that last sentence more at DBK than Red Boy, who’s sobs had slowed.

“M-maybe…” the young demon finally admitted.

Tang turned to stare expectantly at the Demon Bull King. The demon glared down at the scholar.

“Why are you treating him like a child?”

The harshness of his tone made Red Boy start to tear up again. Tang glared right back at DBK.

“Because right now, until we can reverse this, he is a child,” the scholar snapped, his fear replaced with righteous anger. “And like every child, he deserves to be treated with kindness and respect. He deserves to be comforted by a parent whom he obviously adores and be told that it’s okay to cry. He deserves to feel safe and loved.”

The room was silent save for the hiccups and sniffles from Red Boy as they all stared at Tang. DBK’s mouth hung open as he gazed incredulously down at the human, seemingly struck speechless.

“F-father?”

The small and unsure voice of Red Boy snapped the Demon Bull King out of his thoughts, and something seemed to loosen within him.

Tang stood and retreated back to MK and Mei to give the demon some privacy as he knelt next to his son and began speaking in a hushed tone with him.

“What the hell Mr. Tang,” MK hissed into his ear as he stared wide eyed at the pair of demons on the ground.

“Language MK,” Tang hissed right back before leaning over to Mei. “I know you aren’t recording two incredibly powerful demons having a moment of vulnerability who would stop at nothing to destroy us if they discovered the existence of such a video, right?”

“Eep!” Mei nearly dropped her phone as she rushed to stop her recording and then delete the last few minutes of the resulting video.

There were a few minutes of tense silence as the three humans did their best to pretend that there weren’t two demons having an emotional moment together just a few feet away. They gave a sigh of relief when Red Boy launched himself at his father, wrapping his arms around his neck. DBK seemed panicked at first before slowly wrapping his own arms around the young demon.

Tang adjusted his glasses and gave a nervous smile to the Demon Bull King who was scrutinizing him like a particularly confusing puzzle.

At least he didn’t seem angry any more.

Perhaps they would escape this fiasco unscathed after all.

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I was not expecting this chapter to turn into another Dad Tang story. It just kind of happened that way. So onto the references!

First is Durability by TaintTheUnstoppable which is beginning to shape up into something really interesting.

Second is Little One by @its-kall-the-clown which is just a huge fluff fest capped off with some nice angst. Highly recommended.

Finally we have the Red Boy comic by @purble-turble! Now obviously the Tang in their comic probably won’t do what this one did, by this Tang is too much of a Dad to let a little kid cry for too long.

Next chapter won’t be up until sometime next week! See ya then!

#Ink Writes #Monkie Kid #Scattered Cicadas #Tang #Tang Monkie Kid #MK #Mei #Red Son #Red Boy #Demon Bull King #DBK #Lego Monkie Kid #Durability #TaintTheUnstoppable #Little One #KALL #purble-turble #its-kall-the-clown

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dingdongitsbees · 3 years

Text

BLACK-EYED SUSAN | LEVI X READER HUNGER GAMES AU

Chapter 13: Rinse and Repeat

Previous - Next

Tw: PTSD, implied suicidal ideation, alcoholism

WC: 5.4k Ao3 link Ask to be added to the taglist! It will be updated weekly on Saturdays

First person version can be found here

Master List

“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful, it was always just red.” – Kait Rokowski

It had been a few years since your world had gotten simultaneously a million times better and also gone to shit. It hadn’t really hit you two until you had spent a few days back in the homes that had been provided for you. You each had your own house as per usual for victors, but you didn’t need a second. You had spent your life together in a borderline shack, it would feel weird to have the other sleep across the street. But it had been in that gifted house that it finally came crashing down.

All you could see was their faces, all you could feel was that knife in your hand, all you could hear was that goddamn canon. You were sitting on a velvet couch paid for in blood. Now having more than enough food on the table was exchanged for lives. Being able to still exist in the world meant twenty-two people had been ripped from the world.

Levi had been next to you, so he just held you, his shoulders shuddering just as bad as yours, and you cried. You just cried. There’s nothing you can do or say or think to make anything like that better. Only time can help, and to be honest it isn’t very good at its job.

The trip to each district took what was left out of you two. Combined you had killed tributes of five districts out of the other eleven. Almost fucking half. Most of their families just glared at you on their platforms as their child’s face was displayed behind them as you recited propaganda scripts.

District Ten was hard for you. They had surprised you to be honest, neither of Sasha’s nor Connie’s family looked at you with any disdain. All you could feel was pity radiating off of them, especially from Sasha’s father. She told you how he had taught her how to shoot, you almost deviated off script to say how you learnt vicariously through his daughter, how kind she and funny she was.

Connie’s siblings hurt to look at. They looked at you with such big eyes. They should have hated you, they really fucking should have. Their brother died in one of the most horrific ways possible yet they stared at you as if you were one of their sisters. The normal people in front of the stage only copied their looks, none of them hated you for taking away two souls. It didn’t make any fucking sense. It would have been better if they had just heckled you. Just yelled at you and screamed at you, taking the brunt of their words was the least you could do for exchanging your life for one their own.

District Eleven wasn’t so kind to Levi. Kaya’s family looked like they were two seconds from breaking on to the main stage and choking him to death right there. He might have let them. Niccolo’s family was confusing. There was obviously no forgiveness for how Levi killed their son, a wild animal in a spree of rage, but they didn’t look angry. Levi had told you he had just said a few words over Niccolo before coming back, maybe those words were enough remorse for them to not want his head on a spike.

However, the civilians in the crowd didn’t agree. They had to be restrained from climbing up, yelling threats and taunts, about how he could kill a little girl without a second glance, how he took pleasure in killing Niccolo. Levi kept his head down, his undercut blinding his view, but his hand shook in yours. You did the speech on behalf of the both of you.

The districts from Nine to Five didn’t give two shits about you, maybe only some had mild curiosity. Their glazed-over eyes just stared, clearly bored as you were from the fuckery spilling from your lips. Some of the families glared only because their child wasn’t standing up there instead of you, but you couldn’t blame them for that.

One was…weird to say the least. Neither of you had many interactions with either Annie or Bertolt, but you two lead them to their deaths. Levi may have killed Annie directly but Bertolt’s murder was just cruel, you knew that, but you had thrown that rock anyway. Both of their families just looked devoid of any emotion, the crowd didn’t seem to care, that’s One for you, but their parents just looked empty. The speech went smoothly.

Three was strange as well, you never met nor saw their girl, but Falco you certainly had, but you also hadn’t killed him, in reality your relationship him was positive. They didn’t seem to hate you, quite the opposite really, they seemed to be happy you were there. Three was no stranger to careers betraying and killing their tributes so they were probably just happy Reiner didn’t win and it had been because of your own hands. Still, it was strange. Falco’s older brother, the one you had seen in the reaping recording, had looked on the brink of tears but he stayed strong, his back straight and head up high. They probably wouldn’t have looked at you the same if Falco had gone with you. Someone would have needed to kill him at some point anyway, it just so happened it wasn’t you.

Two was painful. Instead of two separate families standing on their respective platforms it was just one. There was confliction in their eyes for sure, you were surprised they could even stand to be around each other, their sister or bother’s son killing their child. But they stood together. Staring at you with a mix of hate and affection. Levi had to do the speech that time.

Four was hard once again, but only because of one person, specifically Marcel’s younger brother. He flew daggers from his eyes, pure fury ran through his veins. He probably would have killed you both if he had the chance, probably would have been good at it too. You could only begin to imagine the anger he had stored up since you had sliced his brother’s throat.

You recognised him in the reaping for the next game.

He used his anger well.

At the end of the trip you had to go to the Capitol once again for the Presidents party. You nearly preferred the arena.

Floch was sweating buckets under Zeke’s gaze the entire time and drank himself into a stupor, avoiding you both at every turn which you were glad for. People reached for you like you were statues, brushing your hair and clothes and bodies like you were pets. Nick was the only thing stopping you from cursing everyone in the vicinity, Levi came close. Zeke watched from his balcony, eyes narrowed and sipping on champagne waiting for one of you to misstep so he could order a bullet into your heads.

When you got home you two didn’t know what to do. You both fucked around for a year, bought anything that caught your eyes at the hub no matter if it was an ugly piece of pottery or a toy. You bought a lot of liquor too and drank most in one go. The burning in your throats let you forget the inferno in your brains. A small price to pay for some peace and quiet between neurons.

You two were rarely sober for the first few months. You’d wake up and have whiskey for breakfast, you’d walk around town, maybe sneak through the fence, and have some gin, and if it was a particularly bad day you’d opt for tequila as your bedtime stories.

People in the streets knew to leave you alone, just to let you wallow a bit, they hadn’t seen many victors, but they could guess that starting up conversations with people on the knife’s edge was a good way to get punched. Hannes talked to you two occasionally, usually at the hub, cheering your bottles with his flask. He didn’t ask about the game, he saw enough anyway, he just pretended you were those troublemaker kids you had been when you left.

It was Hanji of all people that got you out of it, though she wasn’t one to talk when it came to the number of empty bottles in your living room, but she at least cut the number down a bit or swapped out the drinks for something weaker much to your slurred complaints.

The months after that were hard, letting the built-up trauma hit you like a train. You both started getting nightmares.

One of you would wake up already screaming or crying or be entirely frozen still and unable to move as their body quaked. The other would hold on to them until their tremors ceased and their breath evened again. Then you’d just rinse and repeat the next night.

Rinse and repeat.

Flinch at a raised voice, go numb at the sight of blood, start hyperventilating when you were sure you had seen another tribute in the crowd.

Try not to let yourself die.

Rinse and repeat.

Then the next game came around. You both offered to go as mentors, to let Hanji take a backseat from the role after her isolating years, she came to make sure you didn’t say something stupid, but she just got to hang around without much of a care.

The two kids that you got weren’t good. You knew the second that their names were called that they were goners. Wouldn’t make it in the bloodbath, and even if they ran, they probably wouldn’t live past the first day. You learnt to push their names away. It didn’t help any to hang on to them.

The kids weren’t dumb, they knew that too.

There was a little bit of hope when they looked at you however, a hope that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Porco had sliced both of their throats open within the first minute. Porco won the title of victor in only three days with a kill count of eight. They never had a chance.

You think that was the last time you cried.

When mentors go to the Capitol and watch the feed, they sit in a room together connected to an ongoing party that never stops until the games do, infested with sponsors and government officials. Only mentors are allowed in that room, not even titan servants. You just needed a room to be in to be able to grieve only with people that understood.

They always looked after the new mentors, it didn’t matter the districts or even if their tribute killed yours, they’d hold you, get you a glass of water or usually something stronger, just let you get everything out and topped up makeup on your red rimmed eyes before you got ambushed by press outside the door. Sometimes the career districts were prickly, but only the ones that truly cared about the kids became mentors anyway, so they weren’t ones to give you shit.

It just sort of numbed you after that. You’re not sure if you could even remember all the kids you sent to their deaths. No, you definitely couldn’t, and you didn’t plan to.

Without fail every year they always got killed in the bloodbath, and every year without fail you’d drill into them to just run away, but they just wouldn’t listen, or the careers just didn’t let them leave. You both spent most of your time in the Capitol just flicking off the tops of third bottles and taking quiet bets on who was going to win or who’d kill who. Levi was always right.

It was actually Erwin’s idea to do something back at Twelve, to find something to pour yourselves into. So, after the 70th Hunger Games you went back and pushed your ludicrous amount of money to builders to create an orphanage. The one on your side of Twelve was shit and didn’t have the funding nor space, it was the reason you two had never gone to it yourselves, so you gave them some of your load too so they could get food on the table for once.

Kids started trickling in, you didn’t run the place yourselves, you didn’t have the emotional range to do something like that anymore and you’d probably do more harm than good as their caretakers, they didn’t need a pair of fucked up twenty-year-olds to lead them through life. But you visited, making sure everything was up to scratch and there was no complaints or concerns from the kids about the people you had employed or the quality of their beds and food or if they needed some more toys to play with.

Levi always made sure the place was meticulous, and it was kinda funny how he used cleaning as his way to bond with the kids. They always complained but they never said no when he asked for their help. You helped kids with schoolwork and funded whatever type of skill they wanted to learn.

“You wanna paint? Here’s an easel and some paints from the Capitol that my designer friend sent over.”

It was hard to smile but at least you could help them to.

One day, when you two had dropped in to visit before you went to stock up on vodka, a boy came up to you with big emerald eyes, with a black-haired girl trailing after him. He asked a question that got everyone surrounding you looking up from their sandwiches.

“Can you teach us how to fight?”

And so you did. Twelve had always been at a disadvantage, nothing in your district aided you for the Games, the closet you’d had was learning about mines and explosions or having the physical strength to lift a pickaxe but that was only available when you worked in the mineshafts at eighteen, the last year qualifying for the reaping, and eighteen-years-olds were never picked.

So usually any kid that went in was utterly fucked.

Unless you tried changing that.

You started small. Learning how to throw a proper punch or kick, things you had learnt on the streets stirring up trouble. How to balance yourself in a proper stance so a gust of wind or a shove from a career wouldn’t send you stumbling.

You taught them the things you learnt in the Capitol and in the training room; what foods were safe, how to set a trap, how to treat a wound, how to conduct an interview, how to form an alliance, who to avoid.

It was a long time before you held a blade again.

They had begged you for months to just teach them how to knife fight, but the idea still shook you. You hadn’t held a throwing knife in your hand for years, but it still melded uncomfortably comfortable into your palm. You could still throw it and hit it dead on centre. You knew if the throw was hard enough to go through someone’s skull. You knew how long it would take for their body to hit the ground if it were a clean shot, and how long it would take if it wasn’t. You knew how many milliseconds it would take for the canon to fire.

Picking up a knife again, only if to teach, was a torturous process, but you didn’t let them know that. You would just drink a little more that night.

“Eren keep your arms up! Try and copy Mikasa’s form!” you barked.

They all stood in a line, throwing knives into hay bales, some making it, most missing. Mikasa was unsurprisingly the former, Eren was unsurprisingly the latter. The two were always the hardest at work though it seemed it was usually driven by Eren’s ambition. The kid wasn’t gifted with natural talent but he was stubborn enough to try and make up for it. They had come to the orphanage after Mikasa’s parents were murdered over some debt they couldn’t pay and Eren lost his mum to a mine explosion and then his father caught something bad from his own patient.

It was always them begging you (well Eren at least, Mikasa would just ask nicely) for more lessons and whatever advice they could squeeze out of you. It frightened you a little, Eren’s enthusiasm, you had seen that face before.

It was an unspoken truth that they were your favourites of the bunch, the others didn’t take offence to it, it was just those two were always coming up to you two whenever they got the chance, though you were scared it was because they reminded you of an overconfident kid and the one trying to take care of them. You tried to pretend you didn’t see Gabi and Falco when you looked at them.

“I’m trying but my arm’s starting to feel heavy!” Eren said, not even bothering to turn his head.

“You brats don’t have time to get tired when you’re in there so just get used to it,” Levi replied.

He walked behind them, arms crossed as he analysed each of them, you tried not to make a joke that Eren and Mikasa were taller than him now. He muttered out tips to those who needed it, and compliments to those who deserved it, you had tried to get him to coddle them just a little bit but then he said overestimating yourself just gets your killed and you couldn’t say anything to that. When he got to the end of the line of kids, he wandered back over to you and you gave a crooked smile.

He bumped his shoulder into yours before turning around and standing next to you, you both falling into your usual silence as you just watched.

“There’s more of them than usual,” Levi noted and you nodded absentmindedly.

“It’s today, it makes them nervous.”

“Zeke never picks them though.”

That was true, when you had first started up the orphanage, you had expected Zeke to jump at the opportunity, there was no way he wasn’t privy to your every movement let alone something that required legal documents to be signed, so how he hadn’t rigged the reaping to pull one of your kids was honestly getting a little unnerving.

But each year a pair of kids were picked that you didn’t recognise, and you’d breathe a sigh of relief; it’s much easier to forget strangers.

You realised that the games were rigged at the 71st games, you had noticed that all the slips of paper you could see, even though they were folded in half, would all start with the same letter, it peeking out, and then the name called out would match. You asked Hanji afterwards, cause there was no way she hadn’t noticed, and she just laughed in your face.

“It’s a show, of course they choose their cast.”

You leant your head on his shoulder as you watched, he leant his head too. His arms untangled themselves from each other and he let one fall, letting his pinkie interlock with your waiting one. You both still being there was a constant surprise and an unspoken threat, because someday, when Zeke got tired, or you did something to piss him off, that fact might not be so true anymore.

But Levi’s there now, maybe not tomorrow, but today at least, and you could only hope that the trend remained.

“Cut it out dude!”

You both whipped your heads around, finding two kids wrestling on the ground. They panted as they tried to get the advantage, dust billowing around them as the other kids stared. Neither of you could be bothered to move. Eventually one straddled the other, pinning him to the dirt.

Levi’s pinkie tightened.

The boy on the ground whined while the other grinned in victory before joining his empty hands together and sending them down onto the boy’s chest.

Levi stiffened beneath you and alarm bells blared in your head.

The boy started pretending to stab him.

“Die! Die! Die!”

The kids around them laughed.

The boy beneath told him to stop.

Levi’s breath shortened.

You were at the kids in a second, pulling them off one another.

“That’s enough.”

They went silent, the boys looking down to the ground in shame, though they didn’t know why you were trying so hard not to glare.

“Time to pack up anyway, you guys need to get ready for the reaping,” you said, you were just greeted with whinges, “Put the knives in the tub you lot. Now.”

They instantly shut up, knowing that tone of yours was not to be messed with under any circumstances. They all shuffled off, throwing the knives in, you always counted them all in case one of them took one, but they were good kids.

Levi nodded at them as they filed back inside the building, jaw still tight. As soon as they were all gone, Eren and Mikasa waving goodbye at the end of the line, you sprinted back over, running your hands through his hair as you brought his face to your shoulder.

“Shh it’s okay it’s okay.”

A shudder whipped through him.

You kissed his temple. “You’re not in the arena, you’re in Twelve. I’m not about to die and neither are you. No one is dying and no one is going to. Just breathe, just focus on my voice and breathe.”

Eventually he stilled again, air flowing through his lungs like normal. It didn’t happen as much anymore, but it still happened. It probably didn’t help that he was about to meet two dead kids.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

He nodded into your shoulder before finally raising his head, sliding over his façade again. You two of all people had to be the strong ones today, you couldn’t show fear, you weren’t allowed to anymore.

The walk home was silent, most people were inside or rushing home to get ready. You dropped past the hub quickly and you bought some bottles from your usual, Levi didn’t say a word, just stared into space. You passed the town square, the camera crews were nearly all set up, the barriers were getting placed. Hannes was testing the mic on the stage, he sent you a nod that you sent back.

The Victor’s village was always weird to see, after passing smog polluted houses with windows that are barely transparent anymore with walls that are starting to tilt, you come to a pristine gate. The separation pissed you off like it was saying you were better than them, but Nick would have your head if you even suggested taking it down. The houses were beautiful too. Maybe it was just an average house for a Capitol citizen, maybe a little nicer, but it looked like a goddamn king’s estate compared to everywhere else in Twelve.

People would say you deserved it, to have a nice home. It made you want to puke.

You could see Hanji through her window, lounging on a couch, bottle of whiskey in hand. Seemed like a plan.

You squeezed Levi’s hand as you unlocked the door and led him inside. You shed your jackets and shoes and put away your bottles, leaving one out. You glanced to him, he was still sort of out of it, he needed quietness, maybe a bath. Yeah a bath would do, those always calmed him down.

You trekked up the stairs, on the landing you let yourself take a little run up and slide across the wooden floorboards on your socks towards the bathroom door. Silly shit helped sometimes.

You reached out and grabbed the handle and turned it, pushing forward on the door. It let out an ungodly and far too familiar screech.

You gasped and slammed your back into the wall.

Fuck.

Your breath was getting quicker, not letting your lungs get enough oxygen before taking another gulp.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You crouched down, elbows on your knees as you pressed your palms into your eyes at a sad attempt to get your brain to stop.

You could only see him, or in more exact terms, you could only see his melted remains.

Fuck.

Rapid thumps came from the stairwell, you didn’t look up as arms enveloped you.

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t say anything, just kissed your head before holding you tighter. Your need to talk to communicate was even less than it used to be ever since the Games. There were things you two didn’t need to speak about, you just acted on, knowing exactly what to do.

Though there were moments you didn’t want to talk about, and you didn’t plan to talk about them either. He didn’t mention finding you sobbing on the bathroom floor surrounded by spilled sleeping pills and you didn’t mention waking up alone in bed and finding him completely out of it on the roof of the orphanage. You didn’t talk about it, but you held each other a little tighter just as you did both of those nights.

“I’ll get some oil for it when we get back,” Levi whispered.

You nodded into his chest.

“Bath?” he asked.

You nodded again.

Warm water has magical powers you swore, it really shouldn’t be able to make someone feel so good, to be able to relax and almost drift away forgetting about the possibility of drowning. What a lame way to go out, though it was much nicer than the ways you’d seen.

You laid on Levi’s chest as the water rippled around your little movements. He played with your pruned fingers, touching the fingertips with his own like it was an interactive museum exhibit. You watched, fascinated by his fascination, blinking slowly as the bath bled out all of your stress.

Moments like that were nice, but it had to be broken today. You couldn’t stay in that warm heaven forever, though it was quite tempting, you wouldn’t exactly be missing out on the adventure of a lifetime.

You ruffled the towel through your hair as you sipped the vodka. The burn and taste were barely noticeable, even the effect had begun to wear off or maybe you had just gotten better at being under the influence.

“Catch.”

You threw the bottle to Levi on the couch who caught it without a second glance, immediately taking a few gulps of it himself.

“Hello you two.”

You both looked to the door, sending tight smiles to your usual guest, though to be honest your home was hers and hers was yours at that point.

She walked behind Levi’s couch and took the bottle that he already had extended to her, taking a gulp before placing it on a side table.

“Ready to send children to die?”

The reaping went as usual. Hanji welcomed everyone to the 74th Hunger Games, two kids got reaped, one fifteen-year-old and one thirteen-year-old, you couldn’t remember which was which. You waited in the train, neither of them came up to talk to you and just ate up all the food they could before passing out on the nicest bed they would ever sleep in. You didn’t bother them, one look and you knew they were a lost cause.

The process went on.

Neither were that charismatic, they were only memorable because they were last and that was pushing it as is. They both got low scores, a four and a six. The thirteen-year-old cried himself to sleep the night before, or he might have, you wouldn’t know, you slept through it.

That morning you went up to the roof with them, got in the mentor’s hovercraft and just twiddled your thumbs, wondering who was going to win that year or what the arena was going to look like. You went in, sitting in the back of a cart, going through the maze of corridors beneath the grand stage, not bothering to focus in your eyes to see your surroundings. It was just grey walls anyway.

You yawned when you got to the centre, scratching the back of your neck as you tried to find your tributes amongst all of the shaking teenagers.

A finger tapped you on the shoulder. You spun around to see the girl from…Seven? She grinned, her eyes crinkling.

“I just wanted to say I think you’re really cool, I really admire what you and Levi did in your games.”

You blinked.

“Oh, is that so? Good luck then I guess.”

She smiled even wider before running off with a wave. You dragged a hand over your face before heading over to your tribute waiting for you.

It was a forest arena, nothing too special.

The games had long since started when you got back to main city of the Capitol and went into the sponsor party, both of you immediately beelined for the mentor room. You watched as replays showed one getting killed in the bloodbath the other getting hunted down by none other than the careers. You just stared at their slow-mo screaming faces and sighed.

You didn’t cry, you didn’t even blink. You did the first time but after that it’s just been shut away. Thankfully there was no new mentors that year, you didn’t have to deal with sobbing messes. You were too exhausted to care for someone anymore. Compassion doesn’t come cheap.

The mentor room was filled with pain as always, most were just trying to unlearn two names as quickly as possible, drowning their neurons in liquor so they could pretend that two faces weren’t burnt into their brains. It won’t be enough, it never is. You knew that too now.

Some of the others in the room weren’t mentors but they were victors all the same, having just grabbed a free trip to the Capitol so they could bum off some high-class booze. Couldn’t blame them. They were lucky though, the other districts, having more than three victors meant they had the option of just staying home and just ignoring the screen. They didn’t have to know the kids.

You two spent the rest of your time in silence, going back up to the penthouse to sleep before coming back, hoping the whole ordeal would be over soon.

The girl that talked to you before it started, a girl from Eight you had learned, was still alive though, and you couldn’t help but cheer for her a little bit. She started an alliance with a girl from Six, both doing well against the attempted threats on their lives by the careers. Soon they had made it to the last few with only a few scratches to show the world, much better than your leg to say the least. It still ached every once in a while.

But you were still surprised when her little duo alliance were the last ones left. Their mentors were on the edges of their seats, hands covering their noses and mouths like a prayer, eyes glued to the screen.

Then the girl from Eight did something fucking stupid, something that made everyone’s breath hitch around the country.

She brought out some poisonous berries. They had killed a career with them, not needing to get into a fight, but then they held grenades in the form of blueberries in their blood-stained hands.

They brought it to their mouths as the room cursed in unison, people rose from their seats, you could hear people yelling outside the door. They both hesitated for a second as they counted down but plopped them in their mouths anyway.

Two canons fired in quick succession.

The transmission was as silent as the room. No one knew what to do. You stared at the screen with two dead kids. There wasn’t going to be a victor. There wasn’t going to be a victor because they copied you.

“I really admire what you and Levi did in your games.”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The room slowly turned to you two as your heart hammered in your chest, Levi’s hand fumbled for yours.

You were fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

a/n: sorry this chapter was late! this was mainly just summary but we’ll really get into it next chapter

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loupettes · 3 years

Text

I needed a little break from writing doomsday, and this came out today instead. I hope you enjoy some Nine/Rose fluff!

H I R A E T H

SUMMARY: Nine/Rose. After leaving the Doctor alone in his grief, Rose is still upset over what happened that day he left her and Mickey on that spaceship for Reinette. She goes to find him and confront him and her feelings, but runs into somebody she could never have imagined to instead.

TAGS: fluff, hurt//comfort, romance, missing scene

Read on AO3: hiraeth

***

They sat, Rose and Mickey, at the table in the kitchen, both sipping their tea now in silence. The tour of the TARDIS had been short to say the least, mostly because she couldn’t really focus on much else other than the love of her life having fallen in love with somebody else within the space of half a day, maximum.

She shuddered, and scrunched her nose to finish the last of her tea. Well, not the last; she still had a fair bit left, but it had gone cold and just tasted a bit like sewage water at that point, so she didn’t particularly see the appeal in spending any longer pretending it was still a decent cup of tea.

Funny, she thought. My life now resembles a cup of tea.

***

Funny, she thought. My life now resembles a cup of tea.

She managed to not raise suspicion from the man opposite her when she sighed, but when her cup hit the table a little more forcibly than she had intended, Mickey raised his eyebrow.

“Take it it’s still not a good time to ask?”

Rose threw him a glare; she was still quite irritated by his smug-but-trying-to-hide-it expression. “No, it isn’t.”

His brow pinched, and for a moment he looked sorry for her. Not in a pitiful way, but in a... sorry kind of way — except, he wasn’t the one who should be sorry. He opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it.

“M’ gonna go for a walk,” she mumbled, the chair grazing loudly across the floor as she forced herself to her feet.

Mickey again looked as though he might say something, but again, thought better of it. But Rose was just irritated enough to ask,

“What?”

“Just… don’t go looking for him, okay?” he tried. “Give the man some space.”

Rose grunted. “He can have all the bloody space he wants.”

And with that, she left the kitchen. She was exhausted to recognise her feet were, unsurprisingly, steering her towards the control room, and she could feel with every step how regretful she was about to be if she reached that room. So she pulled every last piece of willpower she had left to stop in her tracks and think.

Should she go and talk to him? She folded her arms and chewed the inside of her cheek in deliberation. She was torn, because she wanted so desperately to talk to him — her friend above all else after all — but he had so horribly hurt her today that she was in half a mind to storm out of this TARDIS for good. She tried, she really did, to feel for him, and she took a step out of her own mind for just one moment to consider he had just lost somebody close to him. Even if her heart was breaking, it was at that thought that they shattered completely.

This was ridiculous, she thought, as her feet once more began to take her to the control room. He quite clearly wanted space, and Mickey only confirmed so much with his Manly Suspicions — seeing you right now isn’t going to make him feel any better.

She grunted, and her steps had a little more purpose to them now. Because it was so horrible to be the last person he wanted to see. He had never, not in their entire time together, been one to regret her presence, to make her feel like she was unwanted even just in a moment of grief.

Calm down, she thought, as she knew she was nearing the control room. The only thing that would make this a thousand times worse is if you burst into the control room in righteous rage.

So, she deliberately slowed down her pace as she wondered just exactly which approach she was going to take. But she found that, the closer she got to the control room, the less control she had over her intentions. So her footing sped up once more, and her heart pounded in her chest as she reached the control room.

She was more than disorientated, then, when the last person she expected to see was now standing in the exact same place as he was when she left him.

“Wha—”

He looked up at her with a frown, a frown she hadn’t seen in oh so many months, and she felt her heart sink to see that daft old, gorgeous, face. For a moment, she forgot that this was completely impossible, being so used to it these days after all, and her breath caught in her throat to see that terribly dusty old leather jacket, those baggy black scruffy trousers that seemed far too big for him and those eyes, good god those eyes were so bloody beautiful that she almost cried there and then to see them once more.

Those eyes that were currently looking back at her in utter bewilderment.

She shook her head and herself back to her senses. The Doctor quickly looked at the door at the end of the ramp and distractedly pointed to it, looking back at her once more in disarray. “What you doin’ there?”

His familiar yet somehow unexpected Northern accent seemed most alerting to her, and sparked the return of her own puzzlement.

“What are you doin’ there?”

“I just— you were— you said—” he stuttered, looking back and forth between her and the door. He seemed to only look to her for an explanation, which baffled her, because she was hoping he would explain. The two stared at each other in complete perplexity for a minute at least, before Rose was first to break the silence.

“This a trick?”

He blinked. “What?”

“This. You, here. The TARDIS trickin’ me or somethin’?”

“Why on Earth would the TARDIS be tricking you?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged, folding her arms and resting her weight on one leg. “‘Cos you were a right knob today and maybe she thought I wouldn’t strangle you if you looked like that.”

He was surely stupefied by the force of her words. “Bloody hell, I saved your life today and that’s how you thank me?”

Her mouth hung agape at that, and she quickly scanned her memories today and confirmed, very quickly, that he had in fact not saved her life at any point today. Not even when he stumbled into her’s and Mickey’s capture, drunk, and toyed with the droids for a bit while they held a rather sharp blade to her throat before pouring whatever was left of his wine onto their heads; she was still too furious to consider that ‘saving her life’.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed incredulously, “Do tell me at what point today you so valiantly came to my aid.”

He echoed her scoff. “I said thank you—”

“You did not you little liar!”

“Bloody hell, you’re a lot snappier than you were five minutes ago!”

She shook her head. “I wasn’t even here five minutes ago—”

“Which reminds me, what are you doing here?”

Her eyes narrowed at him; quite clearly, they were going to go round in circles asking questions unless one of them tried to at least figure it out. She took a deep breath, and spoke aloud her thought process. “Right. So, obviously we’re not talking about the same thing, unless you experienced today completely differently to me — which actually might explain your behaviour—” she stopped when she felt her spine pricking with heat, and shook her head “— never mind. And unless the TARDIS is playing tricks on me, and you’re still, well, you, then we’re not — this isn’t—”

She sighed in frustration, still trying to understand the concept of time being relative — whatever that means. The Doctor seemed only to understand her, and he nodded slowly.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say I didn’t just offer you to come with me, did I?”

Her heart sank; of all the emotions she was feeling, of all the frustration at being in a situation unknown, of having her first reaction to a man she missed with everything she had being bewilderment over the absolute love she normally had to see his face, her only response was to breathe a very unsteady and deeply sorrowful,

“No.”

He nodded, again slowly. “But— and I’m losing my other leg to this one now— I’m assuming you, at one point, in fact, do end up coming with me?"

Her lips pulled tight as she fought back against saying or indicating anything that might trigger some sort of paradox at having run into a previous him and altering their future, and she sort of expected she might spontaneously vanish at any moment. Her lack of response must have affirmed his question, and his eyes grew wide.

“Crikey. Right then.”

“I should—“ she started, pointing behind her to the door but not really able to move there just yet “— I should probably, erm…”

He looked back at her for a moment, his brow still drawn in concern, before he gave her the smallest, yet still most warm smile that simply melted her.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispered.

The relief she felt swept over her in a blanket so comforting that her feet all too easily took her to him, and she blurted, “You have no idea how much I needed to hear you say that.”

He grinned the most terribly beautiful toofy grin, but she didn't process in enough time — or care too much to do anything about — the look of slight panic when she practically tumbled into his arms, into a hold so comforting that she let out a small sob. She felt the relief, her whole body lightening and untightening to feel him, less skinny and tall and against the ever so soft fabric of a jumper rather than an oxford. She wished she could have seemed a little less desperate as she clung to him while he awkwardly — but sincerely — held her in return, but just having him there, against everything she understood to be possible, was the only thing she could possibly need right now and she felt alleviated.

“I’m probably breaking about eight hundred laws here but I literally don’t care anymore,” she mumbled, only half-jokingly, into his jumper, “You left me on a spaceship three thousand years into the future so you can fix it.”

“Oi!” he snapped, and she was relieved to hear he wasn’t actually annoyed. “I haven’t done anythin’, remember?”

She nodded. “You’re right, he can fix it.”

The Doctor had always known how to read her, even if she sometimes thought he didn’t. Even after little more than a day of having known her, to this him here now, he recognised her belligerence and only seemed to find it bemusing.

“You’ve got a lot of faith in him then, if you can think he can fix anything.”

She sighed deeply into his jumper, against the sounds of his steady hearts beneath her ear that sounded different somehow, like they weren’t quite hers yet even if they were beating for her now.

“I really miss you.”

The truth in her voice sounded, even to her, so very pained. She wondered what he must be thinking, why this woman whom had only just turned him down now clung to him in the most ridiculous of ways, close to tears as she told him she missed him. But he didn’t ask questions, instead he only felt it, straight away, by the way his arms ever so slightly tightened around her to more resemble a hug she knew was only hers, and one only he could give her. But she could feel him awkward beneath her nonetheless, and ever so regretfully she pulled away, but not quite able to stop herself from reaching her palm to touch the side of his face as she took him in. All those hardened edges, that stubble and those lips and slightly wonky nose.

“Oh, we’re— okay, so there’s an awful lot of touching between us in the future,” he remarked.

She giggled, and drew her palm away to sit on the jumpseat, patting the spot next to her. “Well, yes, I think we can say that—” she frowned, and stopped herself “—wait, can I say that?”

She looked to him for confirmation, and he shrugged. “Tell you what, if you start to fade out of existence, I’ll let you know, as long as you do the same for me. Deal?”

She chuckled, and shook the hand he had held out to her. “Deal.”

He sat down next to her, pinching his trousers and shuffling about to settle in a little more comfortably. She was relieved to know she hadn’t forgotten a single thing about him, which meant that she knew he was feeling most blindsided by her spontaneous and unprecedented visit, displaying a lot more familiarity with him than he, at that moment, had with her. For whatever reason, and she thinks she knows what, he was, for the time being at least, comfortable with putting aside his own reservations about the implications this might have on time and space if it meant that she could find comfort herself.

She gave him a shy grin. “So I turned you down then, hmm?”

“Great,” he tutted. “Nice to know it was me you said no to, and not the flying-through-space bit.”

She nudged herself to the side to bump his shoulder and chuckled. “Well, I’m here now, so you must have done something right.”

“Oh, I don’t know. From the sounds of it, I haven’t done anything right today.”

It was a suggestion, an invitation to continue, if she wanted to.

The sinking of her heart at the reminder of her today was terrible. So terrible, in fact, that she couldn’t find her words, and only shook her head sadly in response. The soft sound of his leather jacket as his chest rose and fell to his sigh somehow made it all that much harder. When he started to awkwardly pick at the stray cotton string poking out at the knee of his trousers, she managed to find her smile.

“Mention the time bit,” she whispered, turning to look at him, and he looked back at her with his eyebrow ever so slightly raised. “That’s what does it for me, in the end.”

He chastised himself, “I didn’t— I didn’t mention the bloody time bit— well, no wonder you said no.”

“You completely messed up with that one,” she chuckled, closing her eyes to the deep and flat way he said ‘wonder’, and continued, “Actually, know what else you messed up with?”

“Wish I hadn’t bloody offered to stay and listen, now—”

“The regeneration thing,” she scoffed. “Didn’t want to mention that that happens at any point, no?”

“Regenerat— bloody hell, I’m being confronted by a lot of my future in one sitting.”

Her eyes widened at that, perhaps having gone too far, but he grinned.

“Na, it’s alright," he assured her in response. "Promise. I’m not so unused to running into myself in the future, I know how this works, don’t worry.”

Her lips curled into a bashful smile, knowing full well he almost certainly knew the consequences of learning of one’s own future and that, in next to no circumstances, was it a good thing. Still, he had this thing about him, this assurance that he would, somehow, make it okay, and she couldn’t deny his invitation.

“You— I mean— well,” she flustered, realising this was much more difficult that she would have thought. “He... yeah, no, you—”

“Say ‘he’,” he encouraged. “It’ll make it easier, promise.”

Again, with that word, with the softness in which he delivered it, she felt this unravelling as her shoulders loosened where she could just be her. She didn’t have to worry about sounding all clever, like she knew what she was talking about, and now she didn’t even need to worry about the implications of something she’s been told can never ever happen, because he was with her. She could barely keep herself together with it all, with how much she just missed him and wanted him back.

“It’s been a bit… it’s been quite hard. Between us, recently,” she admitted unevenly, but once she felt the relief that came with uncorking the ridiculously tight pressure throughout her whole body, she was powerless to stop herself from blurting out the rest. “You regenerated not too long ago and sometimes I think you’re still the same, and sometimes you— he —” she adjusted, it somehow feeling better to say ‘he’, now “— does things that are so… not you.”

There was a silence in the control room, besides the familiar hum which had of course not altered even within this nonsensical situation. It kept her quite steady, actually.

“He sounds a bit like a prat.”

“You’re not wrong, there.”

“Tell you what,” he began, squaring his shoulders. “Since I’m him and he’s me, why don’t you tell me what he did. I’ll see what I can help you with.”

She snorted. “Told me I was gonna — and I quote — ‘wither and die’, left me stranded on a spaceship three thousand years into the future, fell in love with some posh French woman and picked her over all of time and space, to name just the ones over the last twenty-four hours.”

The Doctor was quiet, and she just had to glance at his expression at that. He did indeed look overwhelmed, as she thought he might.

“That definitely doesn’t sound like me — you sure you weren't just fooled into thinking he was?”

She snickered, although he wasn’t too far off her true musings at this point. “I think when you invited Mickey along, I should have clocked on.”

He really did jolt back in shock, then. “Rickey? As in that sad old sap out there, Rickey?”

“Mmm.”

“The one shaking like a bloody leaf and clinging onto your leg like a wuss?”

“That’s the one.”

He shuddered, and it only made her giggle more. “My god, what do I become?”

“Now you see my problem.”

“Alright, well, I can’t excuse the wither and die bit—” he paused, thinking “— nor the spaceship bit, I suppose. Or even the falling in love bit—”

“Fat lot of good, you are, then.”

“Oi! —” he poked her ribs “— You’re a lot less polite than I remember you being.”

Her smile was so wide that it ached; being here with him and laughing like before, before all the regenerations and the Sarah-Janes and the aristocratic French mistresses was a blissful healing of a wound she had long since thought had sealed up.

“I’m going to need some context over the wither and die bit,” he spoke quietly, a little jest still to his voice.

She frowned, honestly quite against the idea of reliving that conversation last night, and especially not when it was one with another, less recognisable, face than with the one next to her. “I dunno. I guess… I know what you—”

“He.”

She giggled, relieved, and he nudged her knee with his. “I know what he was trying to say, that his lifespan is a heck of a lot longer than mine, and it’s not as if it’s fun to watch us ‘wither and die’, as he so eloquently put it, but it still hurt. Almost like—” she scrunched her nose, thinking of what it was she wanted to say before she heard his calm and patient breathing, his breath and remembered who she was talking to “—like it’s so distasteful for him, that we grow old and all mangly and he just has to sit there and watch it and hope it gets over and done with quickly so he can move on.”

The Doctor was still beside her, his arms folded and leant back while she spoke. He seemed to be mulling something over, and when she looked up at him and saw his profile, his terribly large nose and sharp jaw, she all but melted into his side, tugging on his arm so that she could lean against him.

“He made me feel so bad for being human, and it’s the first time I’ve ever felt like that.”

He was trying to keep himself still beside her, and she knew he most probably felt a little uncomfortable at their proximity, but the fact that he was keeping so still for her reminded her just how much he cared for her in the first place — right from day one.

“Christ, give him a slap for me when you see him again will you?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

She thought about the two of them, if they could meet tonight, and only loved the idea of this him squaring up on the new one for daring to hurt a woman he had known less than forty-eight hours. And she grinned to know that he would, as well, because she knew just how important she had been to him right from the start. He didn’t need to say it, and she felt it even now with a new face, that she was still the most important person to him.

Well, up until today, she had.

“Alright, so you say the spaceship thing—“

“Yep,” she affirmed, punctuating the ‘p’ with an indignant pop. “Rode on a horse through a time window, severed all links with the ship and the future.”

“And you say Rickey was with you?”

“Yeah! Left us both behind.”

He thought for a moment. “How’d you know he didn’t think you were on the back of the horse and he was only trying to leave Rickey behind” — she couldn’t help but laugh at his old dry humour that he carried off so effortlessly, something else she only now realised she missed —“cos I can tell you that seems the only reasonable explanation to that one.”

“God will you stop,” she insisted through her giggles, “Rick—Mickey is not that bad!”

“And on that,” he continued, seemingly unwilling to stop despite her persistent chuckles, “I really cannot explain his decisions behind asking Mickey to join us, you’ll have to ask him yourself, sorry.”

He had such a wonderfully deadpan humour, this one, and for a bloke that wasn’t actually from the North, he certainly could have fooled her. To some, he came off as cold and unaffectionate, but to her, he was hers; she knew his humour so well and had grown so fond of him and the ways in which he made her laugh, knowing that he was doing it deliberately as often as he could only to make her giggle more.

“Alright, and what was that last one?” he asked after a moment. “Something about some French woman?”

Ah, yes. That.

Perhaps he knew exactly what by the way she flinched at his words, because he didn’t follow it up with anything at first. He chose his words well, it would seem, when he prompted,

“Something absurd about choosing her over all of time and space, if I remember you right.”

She fiddled with cuticles around her nails, only realising now how hard it was to talk about — or even think about.

“Something like that.”

And with her sigh, she released her hold on him, withdrawing back into herself at the way everything about her seemed to clench in pain. He wasn’t too unused to it all, then, when she felt his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She smiled softly at the gesture that did indeed loosen her a little, but he seemed to notice that it hadn’t entirely when he tapped her shoulder to bring her to lean back against him.

“Well, I will admit this new bloke seems like an absolute git, but I know I can speak for him when I say he doesn’t fall in love very easily at all.”

She swallowed, her throat so painfully tight. “Yeah, m’ starting to think the same.”

He was quiet, and she was really fighting against herself to not fall completely back in love with a man she knew was gone forever. She did love him though, this him, and she missed him so much that the pressure inside her only seemed to worsen until, finally, he spoke quietly,

“Who was she, did you say?”

She didn’t want to respond immediately, though the name rested just at the tip of her tongue, echoing around her mind as it had been all day. So she took a moment's pause before she replied, “Someone called Madame de Pompadour?”

“Ah, yes,” he recalled. “Eighteenth century? Uncrowned queen of France?”

Rose sighed heavily, before nodding her head.

“Sounds average,” he dismissed. “Meet one of them every day, I do. Don’t think it’s quite like either of us to fall in love with somebody so ordinary.”

She had to remind herself, as she had done so many times over the last twenty-four hours, that she was indeed only that: ordinary. Nobody different, nothing that made her stand out from the likes of Sarah Jane or bloody uncrowned queens of France and certainly not one the Doctor, the last remaining lord of time, would so easily fall in love with.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, a welcome disruption to her morose thoughts. “I should probably, er, go and find, well, you— time, was it, you said? That’s what’ll do the trick?”

She sniffed, reluctant to let him go, but she did loosen her hold to allow him free. “Time,” she affirmed.

As he stood, and she too, it all felt far too formulaic for them, even if he had only just met her very recently. She couldn’t bear to let him go like this, to remember this meeting so sad, so she looked at him sheepishly with her arms hesitantly outstretched and said,

“Can I?”

He seemed to know exactly what she was asking when he pulled her in for a hug. It took them a moment of adjustment to settle; she being so used to his new more slender form, and he not being used to her at all. But when they did, when everything finally slotted into place and they were them once more, she exhaled and felt all that pain and anguish just… release. He didn’t take it from her, and she didn’t know where it went, but being here in his arms when she had thought she never could have been again felt like the most blissful recompense following such wretched and unjust anguish.

“I miss you,” she whimpered, holding on to him tighter.

“Rose?”

The sound of her name on his lips was a comfort in itself. “Mmm?”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah?”

“That bloke of yours,” he paused, and she realised it was for dramatic effect when he whispered, “he’s actually me.”

She giggled despite herself. “After everything I’ve told you about him, you still want to assign your name to him?”

“He does sound a bit like a prat, I’ll admit, but he must have done some good things, too, surely?” She shook her head begrudgingly into his chest. “You wouldn’t still be here if he hadn’t.”

She smiled sadly, and reasoned, “I suppose he did regenerate for me.”

“Blimey,” he flustered, genuinely quite surprised by the sounds of it. “I’ve regenerated many times before, and for many different reasons, but I can tell you never for somebody else.”

She smiled; although she had never really known exactly what happened on satellite 5, she had only managed to learn from him that it was to save her life. He didn’t particularly like to talk about it, she gathered, not because he regretted doing so, but in a way she couldn’t quite decipher. Like he was afraid, almost — although of what, she wasn’t sure.

“You, Rose Tyler, must be quite extraordinary indeed.”

She held on to him only tighter as she felt his words find their home deep within her heart, in a way she knew they would never be able to be coaxed out of again by not even herself. And she knew the man she thought she was going to see tonight felt the same, really, if she was honest with herself. She realised, then, that she wouldn’t have been able to hear if he had said it in that estuary accent; it was specifically him saying it in this northern accent tonight that rang deep and true for both men.

And with that, she felt the imminent dread of knowing she needed to leave.

“I probably need to go tell him I’ve made some paradox, then,” she sighed jokingly, although a part of her wished she wasn’t. If she could only have this, this sweet memory of the two of them at a time where she needed to be reminded that it would always be just the two of them, then pulling away from him now might be less tortuous.

“No need,” he said, and then he tilted his head and whispered, “Looks like he’s already fixed it for you.”

She frowned, but even as she tried to process how he — the other him — could have possibly already done anything to fix this, her mistake, her desperate need to see her old friend and deepest love of her life just one last time in a time of such heartbreak, her heart swelled to know that of course he had.

“No paradox?” she whispered back, afraid anybody other than him might hear her.

He nodded, and she felt him kiss her hair. “No paradox, if he’s done it right. Now go, quick, before we find out if he hasn’t.”

#nine x rose #ninth doctor #rose tyler #loup.fic #dw fic

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witchie-writings · 4 years

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K/DA Headcanons

Wanted to do some K/DA headcanons for the fun of it and playing with their characters, hope you guys don’t mind :>

More under the cut (Seraphine not included)

Evelynn

> The hardest member in K/DA to capture the attention of and the one who has the most mixed results come a relationship

> Certainly a demanding partner in terms of communication, respect, and work but her rewards are quite enticing; the amount of pleasure she gifts you is enough to make you crave more of her lustrous touch

> A jealous type, but it’s able to be masked by an unmatched persona of confidence and an aura no one can pinpoint - don’t get her wrong, she trusts you, but it never hurts to get a little bite of possessiveness every now and again

> Don’t let Evelynn’s previous history of partners get to you… it’s all rumors, besides, you are too adorable and addictive to throw away like them

> Lavishes you in gifts if you are particularly good for her. A few notable acts that allow you to get on her good side is cooking meals for her without being told, or simply being given small ounces of affection when the stress begins to rain down onto her shoulders

Akali

> The proclaimed ‘bad girl’ type amongst K/DA, but in reality wishes to be taken out for some good ramen and perhaps go work out at the gym

> Knows how to defend herself due to her history of martial arts training (I think this is what it is), and would happily teach you a few tricks for self defense

> Late night rides on her motorcycle, before eventually resting on a nearby grassy field to admire the shimmering night stars and the soft glow of the moon

> She has her moments of anxiety, especially in a hefty crowd of people, so she appreciates some emotional support and being her guiding light through the dense pack; holding her hand is an added bonus and something she loves to do

> In terms of affection, Akali enjoys being held in your arms and being the little spoon, though she enjoys the little moments where she gains the element of surprise when hugging you from behind

Ahri

> Quite a sociable and popular one of the cast, but nonetheless a delicate and touching partner to have, always in tune with your current feelings and how to make you feel better

> Typically Ahri is off promoting her perfume brand and getting caught up in countless interviews and the such, so she’s often absent from your presence; fear not, she always makes it up by spending an entire day (or a few) dedicated to you

> Spoils you rotten - if you wish to have apple pie or chocolate cake, then it is yours. Want some new headphones? Here, they are currently the leading brand and provide some wonderful noise-cancelling and bass; want those clothes that you’ve been staring at for hours? They’ve been ordered and are arriving shortly

> Ahri has her occasional drop into a numb, depressed state, so it’s up to you to bring her spirits back up to swing and get your love back in the game

> Please allow her to sit on your lap, or just on top of you while you sleep together; warm or cold, you feel pleasant against her body and feel like the perfect fit for one another

Kai’Sa

> Being romanced to a talented dancer, a extreme work out is to be expected; you attend dance lessons alongside Kai’sa and if you’re confident in your skills, have dance offs

> Despite Kai’sa’s primary talents being in dancing and creating the dance choreography, she still is a talented singer, something you brought to Ahri’s attention to see if she could squeeze in more lines for your love

> Always working out in some shape or form - if you both have a dog, you take them out on frequent walks every day; if not, you both go with Akali to hit the gym

> You might not see it in her, but Kai’sa enjoys a good video game, so she loves dragging you to the arcade to get your fun on, especially competitive ones

> Affection wise, she adores it when you play with her long strands of hair - braid it, tie it in a ponytail, she’ll love all of it

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like-rain-or-confetti · 3 years

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Avoidance (Jane Volturi x Reader)

You went looking for Felix, even checking the library when you couldn't find him anywhere else. Felix didn't read. He couldn't stand it, if there were anyone to never be in the library it was Felix. To your slight horror and surprise you found your mate, Jane, instead.

Whilst you two were mates, she was still quite cold and hostile around you most of the time. It was a very rare time that she let down her guard and really enjoyed spending time with you. It impacted you by feeling as though you were constantly walking on eggshells with her. So much so you eventually had begun to avoid her. Much to her disapproval although she never let it show.

"Hey, uhh, is Felix here? Have you seen him?" You asked her. "Of course, he isn't. This is the library." She said with a matter of fact tone as she beckoned you into the room. You complied standing in front of her as she asked. "Why are you looking for him?" "Oh, I just wanted to talk to him, really. Nothing important." You assured her. "Wouldn't you rather talk to me?" She asked lightly although her gaze was just empty as it had ever been. You dropped your gaze, stumbling slightly for words before Jane leaned back with a hardened gaze directed towards the window beside her. "Of course, you wouldn't." She said lowly. You immediately felt guilty, not wanting her to get the impression you wanted nothing to do with her. You moved to sit on the window set beside her. "Actually Jane, can we talk for a bit instead? I haven't seen you in a while." You seemed to have surprised her as she straightened slightly, her eyes quickly moving back to yours. "I'd like that." She said quietly.

Gradually you had warmed up to her, finding she was trying her best not to scare you at first and then she realised it was easier to speak to you than she had thought. The mate bond giving you both the confidence you needed. You hadn't even noticed that during your conversation, you had gotten closer to her. Jane's eyes ran over you once, noting your intense stare on the detail of her dress. Your finger trailed over the pattern on her skirt, delicately. "Will you accompany me to my room?" She asked. You hesitated for a moment. "Yeah, okay." You said after a moment meeting her gaze with a small smile. The two of you slid off the window seat as you let Jane lead the way.

You immediately noticed Jane had a small loveseat in her room opposite her bed. However, Jane paid no mind to it and instead sat on her bed. She gave you an expectant look. Although you were uncertain if that was an invite. She patted the bed beside her. "Come sit with me." That was definitely an invitation. You complied, climbing upon the bed beside her. "Do you ever use this?" You asked, looking down at the perfectly made bed. You were consciously aware that every tiny little movement you made, intentional or not, messed it up that little bit more. "Not often." Jane responded. "We have no use for them but they're a comfort. It's better than anything I had when I was human. I tend to lay on it rather than in it." You nodded, pleasantly surprised with how much of a response you had received.

Without warning, Jane reached out for your hand and brought it to rest on her knee. Your heart had then began to race. You knew had a good reason to avoid touching Jane as you had since the beginning. If she wanted physical contact then she had the control to initiate it on her own terms. She wasn't a particularly affectionate person, or at least, towards nearly every other person than Aro and Alec. It seemed like affection had to be earned with her and you didn't want to upset her by pushing her limits. Whilst she had hugged you briefly, even giving a quick kiss to the cheek on the days she's feeling generous. Those were rare, barely one or two occasions, any other contact is her guiding you out of someone's way or in the direction she wanted you to go. All of the above was quick and felt very forced with very little meaning behind it.

This display of affection didn't feel forced and was longer than any touch combined had been. Even more so, you felt the genuine emotions she had for you. You really hoped it was love behind her actions. "Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked quietly. "Wh-What do you mean?" You stammered. "You're looking at me with fear and confusion. I'm asking why." Jane responded. "O-oh. I just wasn't expecting you to do that. I've always had the impression that you didn't like me touching you." You answered. "I didn't, at the beginning." She said. "However you've been here for months and I've been trying to get used to you. Although I will tell you that you haven't made it easy for me." You paused, uncertain of what to say and Jane could see that plainly on your face. Your brow had furrowed even more. "I am aware that you avoid me, (Y/N). You know when I'm not on guard or with my brother and most of the time you seek out Felix or another guard before I can consider going to you. Any other time, you tend to be on your own."

So perhaps it was painfully obvious when hearing Jane's perspective upon it. Although you thought you had been doing her a favour or that she simply didn't care. "I thought it was what you wanted." You responded quietly. "I didn't think you wanted to see me and me being preoccupied meant you didn't have to." "It was, in the beginning." Jane admitted. "I wanted that because it meant next I could keep you distanced from me. It would just be myself and my brother, serving Aro. However recently you have been on my mind.” Jane looked away, staring at the floor across the room. "Until I realised very recently that I didn't want you so far from me. You spend too much time with Felix. So much so, it looks like you're his mate- not mine. I don't like that." Jane paused thinking for a moment, seemingly unsatisfied with her previous statement. "If you had a problem, if you were in trouble or upset, I know you'd go to Felix or Demetri. Although you should be coming to me. At first, I thought that was your fault. I was angry with you for always spending time with them and avoiding me. However I've been thinking about it and have recognised it isn't your fault. The problem is my behaviour. It's not easy leaving everything you knew behind to live with us. There is still a lot you don't understand about our kind and you've been adapting to that. My behaviour has led you to believe you cannot approach me for anything and instead must go to Felix or Demetri or any other more sociable guard. I am the last person you'd go to out of the fear that your inconveniencing me, when I should be the first person because your my mate. No one else's. That is why I've been trying to get you alone recently. I want to show you that I care and that if anything were to ever happen to you...I want to know about it. I don't want to hear it from Felix or Demetri or anyone else. I want to hear it from you. That is why I was disheartened when you came to, finally, only to be told you were looking for Felix. Then I became even more disheartened because you weren't comfortable talking to me. You never even said what you wanted him for. Even after I offered, you still wanted him. It's wrong and I don't like it. However I caused that and therefore it's up to me to fix it." You were taken aback by how vulnerable Jane had been. You slowly nodded. "I'll come to you." You assured her. "I didn't want to bother you and..." You paused, catching yourself before you spoke the words. However, Jane tugged you that little bit closer to her with your conjoined hands. Her eyes on you, once more. Silently promoting you to finish the sentence. "...I was worried about how you'd react about anything when it came to me. I see what you're capable of and it's frightening sometimes." You admitted quietly. After a moment of silence you regretted saying it. Having admitted that you were sometimes afraid of her. As she let go of your hand, your heart sank.

In silence she pushed you back, gently, hovering over you as you lay back on her bed. You felt one of her legs cage both of yours, ensuring you wouldn't have gone anywhere. Jane's expression was stoic, even as she leaned closer to you, her cold hand against your cheek. "You don't ever have to be afraid of me." She whispered to you. "You're special." Jane's thumb brushed against your cheekbone. "You, Alec, Aro, Caius and Marcus are the safest people in the world." She smiled slightly at you. "Never be afraid of me." She whispered quietly before closing the gap between you, kissing you softly on the lips. You inhaled in surprise and you felt a small smile of amusement against your lips. This was your first kiss with Jane. Your first real kiss to the lips with Jane and you felt your chest flutter within your chest. Perhaps your heart skipping a beat only for her.

She softly broke the kiss with a small smile. "Your heart is pounding." She said quietly. "I think it might give out." You said breathlessly. Jane hummed in amusement. "No, it won't." You weren't so sure, your mind still feeling at the memory of her lips on yours. "Don't forget to breathe." She whispered and that was when you realised you really had been holding your breath. You released the breath you were holding before taking a deep breath in. Jane smiled softly at you before moving to sit on her knees beside you.

She gently lifted your wrist moving your hand to press against her own cheek this time. "Are you alright?" Jane asked. You nodded. "I'm good." You said with a slight smile. It made Jane smile too. "When we're alone, you get this side of me. I'm not one for showing such affection around others. It's inappropriate. I might not always show my feelings, (Y/N) but it doesn't mean I have none." "I never thought you were unfeeling." You responded. "As long as you know." She said to you with a knowing look.

Before blinking, her smile vanishing. "My apologies, it seems I am being called upon. An unexpected turn out from a trial. It appears I must leave you." You moved to get off the bed but by the time you sat up, Jane pushed you back down. "Stay here. I'll be back as soon as I'm done." "What do you mean 'stay here'?" You asked. Jane turned to you as she walked towards her door. "I want you here." "I'm sensing a pattern with you and the phrase 'I want'." You tilted your head at her. She smiled innocently at you though her eyes gleamed with mischief. "I always get what I want."

It had been three hours. After the first hour and a half, you had fallen asleep. Jane stood over you, looking down at your sleeping form without any expression. Her love wasn't easily found. However, if you were patient enough, it would eventually show. She reached out, stroking her fingers along your cheek. You jolted grabbing her wrist with a gasp. Her hand was freezing to the touch but just someone touching you often made you jump. She hushed you softly. "Shhh, it's just me (Y/N)." When you saw it was her, you sighed in relief, your head falling back and your tight grip loosened upon her wrist. "Jane, you scared me so bad." You mumbled quietly, sounding like a whine. Her thumb brushed over your cheek. "Go back to sleep. It's okay." Your head drifted to the side, relaxing once more. "Go back to sleep."

#twilight #volturi #the volturi #reader #jane volturi #oneshot #one shot

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prose-for-hire · 4 years

Text

UC Sunnyhell: Part five

Hello Jealousy!

Previous part // Next Part

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: College AU. Part five of eight. Spike is the campus bad boy with a secret soft heart. Spike realises something as he faces more time without you.

Warning: I think only like a little sex reference on this one.

Original request by: @sunflower-stan

Other tags: @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @harpersmariano @artsymaddie @shy-ginger-in-the-graveyard @cameo-greaves

You began to get comfortable around Spike. More so than you ever believed could be possible. He let you in more and it made you want to allow him to know you even more.

You were getting on well. It was strange and you hadn’t really been able to express it to your other group of friends but you really found yourself enjoying his company. He was sweet in a kind of gruff way. He never really showed much emotion on his face other than a scowl before now. But now you were getting to know him more, you could sense subtle changes in his demeanour.

Like how he was much more comfortable when he was at home. When he was in your company now he could almost… relax. You could both be yourselves in a way you never truly felt with anyone else.

Today you were trying something new together. You were sat in his room. A place you had never been invited before. He even opened the windows so you didn’t asphyxiate from the smoke fumes that appeared to cling to every piece of furniture.

You looked around it, smiling at the way it just screamed ‘Spike’. It was pretty dark, even with the curtains open.

You and Spike had been writing. Together. It was strange and very new but you found yourself enjoying it so much. To have a friend that understood. A friend that wanted to explore life through writing. Through words that can describe complex emotions that you would otherwise never be able to capture properly. To discuss it with him, even if you were doing most of the talking, it was so pleasant.

You would pause every so often and share little lines or swap and read through the other’s work and both be desperately nervous for the other’s approval. Neither of you need worry though, you were so entranced by the others mind. You hoped this would become a regular thing, it was special.

However there were other things clouding your mind. It was getting closer and closer to the presentation and you and Angel were out together more frequently. You were making sure to drop some good words in for Buffy here and there. You found yourself getting on quite well with him, you often found him reading while he was waiting for you. Sometimes you spoke about the book if the both of you had read it. He was a lot more sensitive than you had guessed upon first meeting.

It was actually really nice getting to know this popular frat guy, much more so than you had expected to be. You knew what Buffy saw in him. He wasn’t necessarily your type though. Although what your type was, you were still yet to realise. It still hadn’t quite clicked yet to you.

The presentation was on your mind a lot, you were still working on your confidence despite you now being a frequent performer at the open-mic nights. Luckily, you had your friends to distract you. You were sat with your group at lunch. You had all been laughing really loud. You had been laughing so hard your tummy began to ache. None of you could stop it, your humours matched. It was infectious. As soon as it began to die down, suddenly one of you caught it again and sent a wave around the rest of them.

Eventually the laughter died down as different people had different places they needed to go. The others had to go but you and Cordelia didn’t have any more classes for the rest of the day. She was going to cheer practice in an hour and you would go to the library or something when she did so you didn’t look like a complete loner (although nobody would have really been bothered if you had just been sitting alone).

Talk, as it so often did when it was you and Cordy, turned to mindless gossip. You enjoyed it usually she knew pretty much everything about everyone. But today, her sole focus was on Xander. She was complaining about how she couldn’t help that she got a lot of attention from people because she was so pretty. She like being pretty, she did it on purpose but Xander didn’t enjoy the way people would stare.

“So, why shouldn’t people appreciate me if they like the way I look?” She complained with a pout.

“I get that” You offered, nodding along. You were a good listener and Cordy liked this about you.

“Well, Xander doesn’t! Someone even looks at me and it’s like, hello jealousy, y’know?” You nodded along as you usually did, not realising how pertinent this phrase was about to be to your own life. You usually switched off from the conversation when Cordy spoke about Xander. They were so hot and cold no matter what advice you gave her she tended to do the opposite anyway. They weren’t particularly bad for each other they just got hung up on stupid stuff.

Thankfully, Cordy gave you a reprieve. She stopped the conversation, looking up with the meanest expression she could muster. You frowned, looking behind you. Revealing none other than Spike standing behind you.

He had come over to say hello to you. Bracing the cruel eyes of the canteen to get to you. You couldn’t help smiling, it brightened up his day to see you react that way at seeing him.

“Go away, you’re looking at me!” She scowled at him, trying to shoo him from your table as if he were a stray dog asking for scraps.

“Don’t worry, young dumb and full of-” Spike had started and you mimed at him pleadingly not to finish that sentence. To both yours and his surprise, he did. He cut himself off and changed tac, “-stupid thoughts… isn’t my type”

“Oh, God, why is he even speaking to me?! Shut up Spike your type is, like, anything that moves”

“Listen here you stupid bint-”

“No, you listen here you punk reject! Nobody wants you around here, look at yourself! You’re so gross”

You cringed at what they both said. Not knowing what to say yourself. You stayed silent and this was suddenly noticed by them. They looked at you for support and you groaned. This wasn’t working out. One wrong move and the other would try to cut you out of their lives. They both had reputations for being mean but they were both nicer to you than most. You wanted it to stay that way. You valued both of their friendships.

“I, uh, have somewhere to be. Please don’t rip each other to shreds” You offered, suggesting that you weren’t picking a side as you slid everything from the table and into your bag and hurried off.

After this, Spike had decided the fact that you didn’t side with Cordelia was a good sign. He so wanted to see the obvious good in you. Have you as a friend he could rely on. Share his time and his thoughts with you. His mind. Having you in his room, to himself, speaking those words he had started to want to hear more and more of.

You had been lying on your bed when he knocked on the door. It had been less forceful than his usual knock and it made you frown. Almost as if he was nervous to enter. You sat up, calling for him to come in if he wanted. He entered, with something in his hands. He stumbled over his words as soon as he stepped into your room.

“I, uh, found these… they’re really stupid. But I, uh, though you might like ‘em” He said, thrusting the plastic bag into your hands and looking away immediately. You peered into the bag, gasping in excitement.

Old movie scores. Musical numbers. Soundtracks.

Your eyes watered at the thought. To have a friend that thought about you. Wanted to make you smile.

“They were cheap” He shrugged, as if you had stopped this way because of the quality and not as how special this gesture was. How much it meant to you.

You threw yourself at him, getting overexcited in the moment and tried to hug him. He stiffened, his body completely rigid as you did. He didn’t know what to do with him self. In one sense, he was beside himself. Couldn’t shake the elation that you had wanted to hug him. On the other, he was embarrassed. Wasn’t sure what to do with his hands.

He wanted to reciprocate the feeling, the warmth of the embrace, but he was still afraid that any show of vulnerability could open him to ridicule. Could make you jeer at him. His hands moved to hover over your body for a moment before they briefly contacted your skin.

You pulled away, his hands now lingering slightly now as you did. He almost felt as if he wanted to pull you back in for another hug. But… that would be absurd. Right?

“You wanna listen to them with me?!” You asked, an excited smile on your face. He couldn’t resist. He rolled his eyes but then nodded softly as you selected one to play.

Spike was sat in the shared living space. One that you both now truly shared. Spending your evenings laughing and making fun of something dumb on tv or just talking. He loved it when you leaned in to turn the set down so you and him could just talk. You had done this well into the night on several occasions.

He shouted for you from where he was sat on the sofa. He asked if you want to watch something on the box – that you can study or whatever later. He turned and saw that you were dressed up a little more than you usually would for lounging around the house. He subtly scanned his eyes along your form as he spoke.

“We goin’ to a party, love? Type with, say, free booze?” He tried his luck but you shook your head. He couldn’t help feel such acute disappointment that you had rejected it so quickly.

“No, just meeting a friend” you explain softly. You didn’t mention who it was, that you were going to have a drink with Angel and talk about your presentation. You knew how much Spike hated Angel. And you didn’t owe him an explanation about where you were going anyway. He never told you. So... why did you feel a little guilty to leave him this way?

You shrugged. Instead, you waved your goodbye with a little smile that he was beginning to find endearing.

He frowned at the idea of you leaving, something was bugging him and he couldn’t figure out what. He didn’t want you to go out and leave him lonely. He valued your friendship so much. He wanted you to come back and spend the evening with him. The way he usually pretty much always chose to stay in with you.

The feeling had been there for a while now, building up in his mind. He hadn’t even identified it until it had started to push itself to the forefront of his mind. He frowned but shrugged. Turning back to the tv for company.

It had been a few weeks since you went out for that evening and Spike had noticed you had been really busy lately. Instead of your time being his, spent in the house like you usually would, you had been out almost every day.

And, when you weren’t out, you were smiling at your phone. He caught you laughing out loud once. It made him tense his jaw. Mutter under his breath. You barely looked up to the tv anymore when you were sat together, let alone at him. Not that… he needed you to look at him, obviously. You hadn’t written together for over a week though either. You were busy messaging people he would insist he was too cool for.

It bugged him to no end though. That even in his company you would rather be talking to other people. He almost felt as if he wasn’t enough. As if you wanted to be away from him despite your insistence that he was someone you now considered a good friend.

On one rare occasion you deigned to stay in with him (an evening you had enjoyed more than any in that week because you could finally relax). It had gotten too much for him though. His annoyance that you had been using your phone so much rather than giving him attention he had started to crave. He ended up checking through your phone.

You had just left it lying there while you went into your bedroom to get something – what was he supposed to do?

He swiped it from the arm of the chair where it had been left. He opened it up and scrolled through your messages. Finding something that made his stomach drop. It left a sour taste in his mouth.

Angel. You were sat beside him but texting Angel. Sending him smiley faces and sweet replies. He tensed his jaw, a stone in the pit of his stomach. This feeling he couldn’t name weighing him down.

He had become suspicious. Of your intentions. There was a weird distance when you thought you had become friends. It made you a little upset. You didn’t know whether to broach it with him, you wanted to just enjoy your time with him.

Another evening and you were going out again. The library and then some dumb party after. Spike hadn’t caught where or he would have crashed. He knew how nervous you could get. Wanted to make sure you came back safe.

Came back to… him.

He frowned. That was a weird thought. Still, he shrugged it off and looked back towards you. He didn’t realise how much he had needed a friend. No, not just any friend. You. He couldn’t get over just how much he enjoyed having you around.

“Don’t go” He had whispered as you left, it was inaudible to you. He frowned at himself again. At the way he heard the pleading note in his voice. About how much that sentence really meant.

He refused to think about it. To delve deeper inside. To get why he had thought this. He just couldn’t. Not yet.

Instead, he lit up a cigarette and walked to the liquor store. He planned on taking the bottle to bed with him tonight rather than some cheap imitation of…

You frowned as you walked. Wishing you could spend time in and feel that bond you had started to become so sure of with Spike.

He drank to forget. His loneliness. The fact that he didn’t have you this evening. He found himself looking forward to every moment you would spend together. Just talking. Laughing.

Another afternoon rolled by where he had been staying in in the hopes of you being around the house too. The roles appeared to have switched since you began to get to know each other. Ever since he had found a real connection, a proper friendship, he had wanted to cling to it.

But you were now more popular than ever, having to split yourself between so many people. Because they all saw in you what he did, how kind you were. How nice it is to be in your company.

“Alright, pet?”

“Yeah, you know. Busy” You sighed. If you were honest, you would be pleased when the presentation was over. All this work you were doing, evenings and afternoons you were spending away from home. Not to say that you weren’t friends with Angel but being out so often when you were used to staying in was starting to exhaust you.

When he saw that you were going out again his face dropped. You were packing up your bag with all of the stationery you appeared to have a never-ending stock of. He was planning to ask if you were running a black-market, coloured-highlighter export on the side.

“Date?” He asked, the tone was light but his face was tense.

“Yeah like I would have time for that!” You smiled at him and he scoffed.

“Yeah, m’sure Angel would love seein’ your vast stationery collection”

“What? Is that a euphemism that my mind isn’t dirty enough to understand?” You aimed for a teasing joke but as soon as you said euphemism and assigned it to talking about Angel, he got even more tense. Launching into his petty review of Angel’s character.

“Yeah, well maybe he is popular and has somethin’ going for him but-but he has a massive forehead a-and stupid hair”

“Okay, childish. Do you want some crayons to keep yourself occupied while I’m out?”

“Don’t get smart, don’t suit you” He quipped which made you smile a little but his face was sullen. He wasn’t in a good mood with you again. And you didn’t properly understand why.

“Why don’t we write tomorrow?!” You said excitedly, “I have the entire afternoon free… maybe we can do what we did last time?” You smiled in his direction, your enthusiasm making the corners of his mouth tug into an almost-smile. But when he saw you begin to leave as you spoke, he said something else.

“Yeah if you got time in your oh so busy life”

“Offer’s there! I’ll see you later”

“Yeah, whatever” He said, slouching in his chair which made you sigh a little. You would be in a gloomy mood for the rest of the evening now that he was in a bad mood with you. You cared so much about what he thought and felt now, it was so strange.

He carried on this way for a while even though you mentioned several times you and Angel had been paired up together and were only ever working on the project. Hinting that you really wouldn’t be spending so much time out otherwise.

Angel was friendly and nice to you but the long silences were hard to navigate at times. There just wasn’t that effortlessness you had when you were with Spike. He had annoyed you a little because what with all of his commitments you had ended up doing more than your share of the workload because of his busy schedule.

Spike had began to withdraw himself from you a little. It made you sad, this man who you had been forming such a strong bond with. Exploring this supportive friendship you suddenly had. Was suddenly turning his back on you.

He wasn’t really sure why he was in such a bad mood with you. He knew you had a presentation. He had given you a bit of help when he saw how much of a workload you had on. He had also seen Angel’s name on the form next to yours so he knew the reason you were spending so much time with Angel.

However, what neither of you really understood at the time was that Spike’s insecurity was winning over. He was comparing himself to Angel because he had so much of your time. Made him feel less-than. It made him believe that you probably felt that way too.

He couldn’t help his insecurity. The way it festered in his chest. Why would you want to spend time with him when there was someone like that you got on with so well?

His snide comments and tense nature was worrying you still. He thought he had been slick but you had seen him put the phone back onto your chair as you returned to the room that evening. You weren’t so bothered, you weren’t hiding anything it just meant you put a lock on your phone when you realised.

He had asked about your day and you told him. You had mentioned Angel all of once and yet it was the only part of your day he was thinking about.

“Oh yeah, and did you and Angel have a bloody brilliant time? Did you have a right giggle and skip through the merry streets-”

“What is going on with you? Why are you being like this?” You finally confronted him, you just wanted your friend back.

“Not being anything. Just tellin’ you what’s what” He shrugged, avoiding your eye contact.

“You’ve been in a horrible mood ever since I started my project – I can’t help that I’ve got so much going on! I swear with Willow’s blood-drive and Xander’s basketball games as well as Buffy’s parties and all of my work I have no time to even think for myself!”

“Well, at least your priorities are set, right pet?” He said, this time the bite in his voice was evident. He hadn’t even made the list. He wasn’t even on your mind as someone you wanted to spend time with was all he had gotten from your sentence.

“What that I can’t be friends with you if I’m friendly with them? With Angel?” You said this pointedly, you could tell that was why he had been so weird now, “It doesn’t change the way I feel about you. Uh… about our friendship” You realised the way you had phrased it may have sounded a bit ambiguous and so you added the latter part. He just stared at you. Stopping dead.

But he hadn’t stopped because of the awkward way you covered your sentence. He stopped because those words made him want you to mean that. That you would want to be in a relationship with him.

It was like a switch turning on. Those words. He was finally understanding it.

“Yeah, well, whatever” he just shrugged, adjusting the leather duster back on his shoulders before storming away.

But the conversation you had was still swirling around his mind. He finally realises why he’s being like this.

It all made sense to him so suddenly. Hit him in the gut.

The way he had enjoyed the interactions with you, even if you had been arguing. How he had acted with you in mind, to get a reaction. Even if it was anger. The way he couldn’t take his eyes off you in the room. Positioned himself closer to you. Wanted to spend all of his time with you. Had begun waking up earlier to spend more time with you. The way your words, your writing appeared to fill up his soul. The dreams he had about you…

“Oh balls!” He muttered throwing himself down onto his bed, “I bloody love them!”

He was aching under this realisation. His heart near-beating for you. His mind always on you and what you were doing. The idea of you being with a man that wasn’t him made his skin crawl. Made his mind fog with red mist.

He wanted to hold you. To catch your lips with his. Show you exactly what you meant to him. Wanted to have you with him more, sharing your hearts and minds. God, he made himself dizzy just lying there in bed thinking about having you that way. In every way.

The day of your project suddenly came and he did say good luck for it beforehand despite all of his weird behaviour. He knew that it meant a lot to you. It went well and you and Angel were so relieved. Neither of you were the best at that sort of thing, but you were definitely getting better. Your project was finally over and you and angel remained fast friends. Also, he had a thing for Buffy too you had never been more sure of it.

Spike seemed to relax when your project was done and your friendship had continued. He hadn’t brought a one-night-stand home in almost a week and even before that there had only been one or two people you had seen recently.

You even asked if he needed medical attention for his wrist because you were sure it was being over-used. You were becoming much more comfortable talking to him about sex. You were becoming so comfortable with him in general.

He threw a cushion at you and muttered something under his breath but you could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He didn’t even try to make an excuse up he just turned back to the soap opera.

You glanced sideways at him, trying to figure him out. You caught glimpses but you wanted more. You wanted to ask and have him tell you about him. His past. His thoughts. But you knew better than to push him. It might make him completely close back up again.

He just gestured with his head towards the tv. To tell you to watch the soap again. You had been caught looking. You snapped your gaze away too quickly. Staring at the tv, feeling a heat rising in your cheeks. You felt something when you looked at him. You couldn’t even begin to understand.

He acted as if he was watching the tv but he wasn’t. He was sneaking glances at you when he thought you couldn’t see. Inching slightly closer in his chair so that he was nearer to you. Wishing he could reach between the space. Embrace you like you had that one time.

He was used to quick sex, one-night stands and getting them to leave straight after. But when it came to you… this was so new. This feeling – he was sure of it. He was intoxicated by you. You were in every thought. Every waking moment. And in his sleep too.

The dreams he would have. He wanted you. He really wanted you. Only you.

#UC Sunnyhell #Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike x you #Spike imagine #btvs #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #btvs x you #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #gn #gender neutral

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