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quindolyn · 3 years ago

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subby Jamie fluffy (Smut?) where he wakes up in the middle of the night and sucks on the readers titties to drink from her tits because she's lactating after giving birth to their daughter. I don't know if this makes sense but I hope it does!

Lactation Kink || James Potter

A/N: I'm not even sure if I should include "kink" but I will admit that there are some very smutty overtones so read at your own discretion. I tweaked the request a little bit in terms of the circumstances but the bones are still there. I hope you enjoy.

Warnings: lactation kink, light sub!James and Dom!reader, not much I don't think, all acts are completely consensual and if they needed a safe word they'd have one

Word Count: 1851

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were life savers. They could only watch their two closest friends creep closer and closer to death for so long before doing something about it.

After giving birth to a beautiful baby boy seven months ago you and James had come to understand a new definition of the word exhaustion. You were absolutely enamoured with your baby boy, James the same way if not worse, always keeping him cradled in his arms, Harry’s little head nestled into the crook of James’ arm.

Regardless, there is no amount of parental love to counteract the complete lack of sleep the two of you have endured. “Sleep when the baby sleeps” they all say, it's excellent in theory if only the baby would actually sleep.

No, instead you and James were subject to months of newborn induced insomnia,

You’d barely understood what Remus and Sirius were saying when they offered to watch your son for a few days, give you and James some time alone. Even though every part of your being screamed for you to take them up on their offer there was that small, annoyingly persistent, voice in the back of your head. The voice of maternal guilt.

Your friends wouldn’t hear any of your arguments, listening as you insisted that Harry was still far too young for you to leave him, you could barely stand a few hours, how were you supposed to survive days?

Despite your insistence that it was far too early to leave Harry with his godfathers for an extended weekend when the following Thursday rolled around you and James were rather unceremoniously kicked out of your own house, told that reservations had been made for you at an expensive spa and resort and that you were not to return home until the following Monday.

They’d even packed your bags for you.

You and James had successfully made it through the first night away from your baby, your quality of your sleep however was not up to par as you tossed and turned, worrying about the little boy you’d left at home.

Even cuddled up to Jamie’s chest your sleep was more like a light sheet over your consciousness giving you a shallow, unsatisfactory, reprieve.

What you needed was for sleep to hit you over the head with a baseball bat, knock you unconscious for hours and give your body time to recover.

After a long, exhausting day of taking advantage of the resort's numerous spa treatments, your wish of deep, meaningful sleep seemed as though it might actually just come true.

Minutes after laying your head down on the pillow, James slipping into bed behind you, you were out cold. Pulling you closer so that he could bury his face in the crook of your neck James was close behind you.

Finally, sleep.

-----

Your tits hurt, they fucking hurt. You were finally getting some quality sleep but the discomfort in your chest became intolerable and you were lulled back into a dreaded state of consciousness.

You’d been so ready for sleep and the peace that it would bring that you’d forgotten to pump your milk before getting into bed. You find yourself regretting that decision now, you shift slightly in James’ hold, just as tight as it had been when you’d fallen asleep. The clock on the bedside table reads three in the morning.

Fuck me, you think, your thoughts still blurry from sleep, carrying a weight in your temples that lures your head back down to the pillow as you fall back into your spot in James’ arms. You’re going to have to get up eventually, that much you understand, but the prospect of getting up and finding the pump, hooking it up, then actually sitting there while you pump sounds nothing short of absolutely dreadful.

You can only lay there for so long, on your back so as not to apply any pressure to your breasts, staring up at the ceiling before your tits go from hurting to feeling like they’re about to explode.

Eventually you’re forced to begin to fuss in James’ arms, trying to find the seal that will let you get up hopefully without waking your husband.

Even asleep James’ grip is insistent, he’s like quick sand, the more you try to maneuver your way out of his arms the tighter his hold gets, the closer he pulls you to him.

“Jamie, you gotta let go,” You murmur, hoping to appeal to the half asleep man.

“Where you going, angel?” His voice is the crashing of a wave against the shore in your ears, low, rumbling, calming. That voice alone is enough to have you considering just climbing back into bed with him, exploding tits be damned.

“Forgot to pump Jamie, m’tits feel like they’re ready to explode.”

He flickers his eyes open, worry etched into his irises, already blanketed in sleep, “Hurting?” Raising his head his eyes drop to your tits, like maybe he’ll be able to see your affliction.

“A little bit,” You nod, your hands combing through his unruly curls before making another attempt to rise from the mattress, “Gonna pump and then I’ll feel all better. I’ll be quick.”

“No,” He whines, god you miss the sound of his whine. His arms are like steel as he pulls you firmly back onto the bed, “M’thirsty anyways.”

Confusion heightens in you before James turns you so you’re fully on your back before slipping under your arm, resting his head on your chest.

Nimble fingers find the neckline of the silk camisole you’d found in the luggage Remus and Sirius had packed for you, sons of bitches also packed every single pair of lacy panties you own.

With little difficulty he slips the thin strap down your shoulder allowing him to tuck the soft material of the top under your breast.

“Miss my girls,” He whispers as he bares your breasts, they’re swollen with milk but the way he’s looking at you you’d think they were something far more precious.

“I’ll be gentle,” His promise comes just as he latches onto your pert nipple, carefully guarding his teeth with his lips, the last thing he would wanna do is hurt you.

It bears little resemblance to the way he used to suck your tits, fervently like they were the only things keeping him grounded, sometimes they had been. Now he proceeds with a new sense of caution but that doesn’t mean it’s any less pleasurable.

“Jamesie, ‘s for Harry, you can’t drink the baby’s milk,” You regrettably push him off your tit, he looks anything but pleased.

“They were mine first,” He whines, throwing you a dirty glance that falls completely flat given the immense adoration that lies just behind it, “And I told you (Y/N), ‘m thirsty, want your milk. Wanna make you feel good.”

Giving you his most convincing puppy dog eyes he leans back in, he latches on efficiently and sucking with an increased vigor you feel a feeling of fullness swell in your breast as your nipple tingles. It’s a feeling you’ve gotten used to but so rarely has it ever turned you on as when James is the cause of it.

He hums in satisfaction as the warm milk seeps into his mouth, it encourages him in his efforts causing him to latch on tighter. A little too tight.

“Easy there baby,” You hiss, “M’tits are sensitive.”’

He complies immediately, loosening his lips around your nipple the sensation becomes pleasurable once more. The pleasure helps distract from the discomfort which, at least in the tit James it latched onto, seems to be dwindling. The other breast is left aching until you feel a similar sensation coming from your nipple.

“You’re leaking.”

Casting your eyes downward you see that he’s right, you’re leaking slightly out of your unattended nipple. It's not unusual for it to happen but usually you just brush it away with a warm washcloth, not wanting to have a sticky mess on your chest.

Carefully, he brushes the pad of his thumb over the over sensitive bud.

“Can’t let it go to waste,” He brings his thumb to his mouth to suck it clean, the visual is almost enough to make your head spin.

You can’t remember the last time you saw James subby, ever since you’ve had Harry it's been sleepy handjobs and once you fully recovered, him pushing you up anywhere he could and taking you right there. It’s like parenthood awoke something far more dominant inside of him but as he latches back onto your tit you’re reminded how beautiful he is when he submits to you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, letting your fingers dance along the nape of his neck as you feel yourself unwinding with every second he sucks at your tit, bringing you relief.

“You full yet?”

He gently lets your tit slide from his mouth before responding, “Does it still hurt?”

The genuine concern in his voice has butterflies erupting in your stomach, you learned a long time ago just how sweet and caring James is but sometimes it hits you harder than you were expecting and you’re left feeling just as giddy as you did in the beginning of your relationship.

James seems to have sucked you dry, or at least to a point where your tit no longer burns with the feeling of an impending explosion.

“No s’all better baby, did such a good job,” You guide his face up towards yours, “Got a little milk on your lips,” You lean in, kissing the milk off his swollen lips.

It’s sweeter than you expected but maybe everything was sweeter coming off his lips.

You take your time admiring his face, hazel eyes that look a little more brown than they did yesterday, lips an impossible pink. Thick, long lashes you remember envying for as long as you’ve known each other cast their shadows along his cheekbones. He’s perfect.

You run the pad of your thumb along his bottom lip before letting him suck it into his mouth, when he couldn’t get to your tits sucking on your fingers always used to help James calm down. For the life of you you can’t remember the last time he’d sucked on your fingers. If it’d been in the last seven months you’d probably just been too tired to remember.

Letting your digit slide from his mouth James hauls himself over you, careful not to brush against your breasts, to lay on your other side. He moves with a surprising grace considering just minutes ago he’d been in the throws of sleep, you’d forgotten how well he moved.

“Other one now,” He murmurs, eyes glued to your tit as his hands move to cup it, giving him better access to your nipple.

“You sure baby? I can just pump this one and you can go back to bed, s’okay.”

“No,” His brows furrow with his empathic response, if he wasn’t already on top of you you’re sure he’d pull you closer in fear that you might escape, “Mine.”

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tl-notes · 3 years ago

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Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 9 Notes

...設立から大分地盤が固まってきており、少しずつだが、業態は改善されている。

One thing to note here is that Kobayashi(‘s narration) isn’t saying the company has already made solid improvements, it’s that the company has finally established itself somewhat (as it was only founded relatively recently, and typically new companies are especially busy while trying to get off the ground) and now is starting to make improvements.

Similarly in the second sentence, it’s not “was” slow going, it’s “is still” slow going, and the working conditions “are” improving, not “have improved.”

This is がんば ganba, short of course for がんばって ganbatte, which I’m sure most of you are familiar with: the (in)famous “do your best.”

I only mention it because I like this shortened version of it. Ganba!

This is a fun little idiom(?)/saying: 鼻で笑う hana de warau (conjugated as hana de warawareta), lit. to laugh using the nose. It’s used to describe laughing at someone you’re looking down on for whatever reason (not necessarily in a super serious way, could just be a friend being dumb etc.; in this case it’s Elma’s being naive).

Typically it refers to like a “heh-but-through-the-nose” kind of “laugh,” but as you can see in this scene (where clearly Kobayashi is laughing with the mouth, even starting with “pff” lips) it works idiomatically even if the laughing isn’t only through the nose.

You may have heard that Japan is/was a “lifetime employment” country, where typically people would get hired right out of school and stay at that company until retirement. While that’s much less true today than it was even a couple of decades ago (and has become kind of controversial in ways), it’s still much more common of a practice than in say the US.

One result of this is that there’s a much bigger distinction placed between hiring people in spring as part of the annual graduation rush (the Japanese school year ends in March), and mid-career hiring. Typically you can’t participate in the fresh grad hiring if you aren’t one, even if you’re new to the field in question.

For larger employers (i.e. 5k+ employees), roughly two-thirds of all hirings come from fresh grads, and only small employers (<300 employees) hire more mid-careerists than people directly out of school.

Of course, this split tends to apply mostly to “standard” full time jobs, not so much part time, and is not necessarily a thing in every industry/at every company.

Just as a minor point of clarity, this “organized text” in Elma’s document refers to the phrase まとめられた文章 matomerareta bunshou. In a literal sense, matomerareta can mean organized/consolidated etc., and bunshou text/passages, but meaning-wise it’s more like “writing that gets its point across clearly/cleanly.”

This is a pretty big compliment and a very useful skill to have in organizations like this, as writing such that people can quickly and easily understand exactly what you’re trying to say often saves a ton of time and frustration.

我々はエルマの気迫に押されるがままにその書類を読み始めた。

Another minor point, but where the English could imply that they were overwhelmed by Elma’s intensity through the act of reading her report, the Japanese implies more that they started reading it because of how intense Elma was being.

It doesn’t really make much of a difference either way, but it stuck out a little for me.

To justify mentioning it, I guess I’ll explain the grammar point Kobayashi uses: されるがままに sareru ga mama ni. Sareru is a generic verb/verb conjugation for having something done to you (technically here it’s 押される, to be “pushed/pressed/pressured”), and mama refers to a state, condition, or “way” (like “do it this way”).

Put together, the whole phrase is used to indicate “you” do/did something that someone else wants you to, without (meaningful) opposition. (Something similar in raw meaning but with a very different connotation would be “going with the flow.”)

If a friend says “hey let’s go do something,” and next thing you know you’re out bowling despite preferring to stay at home, this is you.

You can stick the mama ni to various other things as well to come up with a similar idea, but without the sareru the nuance may end up different.

The word for clairvoyance here is 千里眼 senrigan, lit. “eye(s) [that can see] a thousand li”, li being a Chinese unit of measurement for length (shorter than a mile, but for general purposes “eyes that see a thousand miles” is basically the gist).

Despite the perhaps physical-sounding nature of the term, it does actually describe the same power as “clairvoyance” in English: being able to perceive things outside your actual range of vision, including potentially into people’s hearts and minds etc.

Hence why it’s a thousand screen display, when she updates it with tech knowledge:

“Tainted by work” here is 職業病 shokugyou-byou, lit. an occupational disease. The “proper” definition is a disease one gets from working in a particular job, such as black lung for coal miners or even posture-related health issues for desk workers.

Additionally, it’s used colloquially to refer to noticeable habits or quirks that people in a certain profession pick up, like a baker always waking up super early or a programmer using programming lingo out of context in normal conversation. The latter being especially noticeable in Japanese, as a lot of such terms are English in origin.

“Shocking” here is a fun word: ドン引き don-biki. “Don” here is added just for emphasis; the main meaning revolves around 引き hiki/biki, from the verb 引く hiku, meaning to pull.

The idea is that someone does/says something that you recoil from. Maybe it’s gross (“I only shower once a week”), maybe it’s mean (“They didn’t smile enough so I didn’t leave a tip.”), maybe it’s creepy (“I sent like 30 texts yesterday but still no reply.”), just anything that has you feeling like you might want to create some distance because... phew.

It’s kind of similar to the current use of “cringe” as an adjective/noun, though with less of an internet-slang feel* to it, and generally used more as something the speaker is doing rather than describing whatever/whoever is being cringe.

(*I think it started being used popularly in this way in the early-to-mid 90s, with the “don”biki variant specifically popping up around 2005.)

A “Premium Friday” is the last Friday of the month, where you get to leave work at 3 pm. It is largely theoretical.

The idea was created by the Japanese government as a way to reduce working hours and encourage domestic spending (boost demand), but it has not been implemented by all that many employers, and especially not many smaller employers. There isn’t, after all, any mandate or government-provided incentive for doing so.

Evidence from the places that did implement it suggests it is actually good for the economy, but good luck convincing bosses to give extra paid time off.

“Last Friday of the month” was chosen because most people get paid on the 25th each month (Japan tends to pay monthly instead of every two weeks), so it would usually be right after payday, when people are more willing to get spendy.

Kobayashi saying eight hours here reminded me of a “fun” fact: the typical Japanese work day is eight hours plus a one hour break. Plus a one hour break, not with. So a typical work day is actually nine hours. Most commonly 8 to 5 or 9 to 6. Not many “nine-to-fives” here.

The characters for Joui are 上井, which usually read as Kamii or Uwai. It’s “Joui” because that means, when written as 上位, “superior.” As in “a superior life-form.” Like a dragon, say.

でも、ゆっくりやる事業改善案を見せてもらえたじゃない？

This one is actually kind of a critical mistake. In the English it sounds like she’s talking about the improvement proposal that Elma made and that the boss looked at. In the Japanese though, she’s talking about a different plan, one the boss showed them*, that is similar in idea but is going to take longer to be fully implemented**. So we’re being told that while Elma didn’t get what she wanted as fast as she wanted it, it is still basically going through at a slower pace.

*In ”見せてもらえた misete moraeta,” the misete vs mite means they were the ones who got shown something, rather than the ones who got someone to look at their stuff.

**Which you can tell from the ゆっくりやる yukkuri yaru, where yaru is basically “do” and yukkuri means (in this case) at an unhurried pace.

(Re previous note: Hence why she says “immediately” here.)

“Black (ブラック)” and “white (ホワイト)” in the context of Japanese employers refers to how well employees are treated: a company with good benefits/pay, reasonable levels of overtime, and feels safe to work at is “white,” while a company that has excessive overtime, often pays poorly, breaks labor laws, and allows harassment to fester is “black.”

While “white company�� was created simply in contrast to the term “black company,” the latter finds its origins in front businesses for organized crime, which were called “black” in the sense of “illegal” (similar to “black market” or something being in a “grey area”). Given the international reputation of Japanese work life, you can imagine that “black company” as a term sees much more use.

There’s been some discussion about maybe replacing it due to the racial implications (especially since it uses the English word “black”), but while typically English translations drop the color for that reason (e.g. ブラック企業大賞, an “award” given to Japan’s worst employer each year, is officially “Most Evil Corporation of the Year Award” in English), it hasn’t really penetrated to the mainstream at this point.

The rice there is in a 飯盒 hangou, a metal container that looks… like that, and is the stereotypical item of choice for cooking rice while camping. It has its origins in the mess kits used by the military, but these days they’re primarily marketed as portable rice cookers for camping use.

You can get round ones too, but the bean shape is very popular.

“Settings” here is 設定 settei, lit. exactly that, “setting(s).” E.g. if you open a computer program and look at the settings menu, it’ll be settei in the Japanese language settings (settei).

I bring it up here because there’s a bit of a difference in how it gets used colloquially like this. In English, the “setting” for a story typically refers to where and when it’s set. In Japanese, “setting” in that sense is usually 舞台 butai. But settei is still used when talking about fiction, just in a different, more expansive way.

Often in these cases settei is used to refer to the various conceits that provide the context in which the story takes place. In this show, for example, one such “setting” is that dragons are real: another is that magic exists. It comes up especially often in fantasy/sci-fi type stuff where there are major distinctions between that universe and the real world—not that stories in a real-world setting don’t have settei of their own, but they often are lumped into descriptions of the plot in that case (”a dragon comes to live with an office worker in her apartment”).

It also refers to the “settings” of characters, like name or age, and things like “they run a bakery that’s going out of business and are trying to save it.” Basically all the details you’d have in a character profile.

It also gets used in conversation to refer to pretend things or (basically) lies: like here, where Saikawa thinks Shouta is playing pretend with his ley-lines talk, or e.g. if someone is trying to tell you some outlandish story (“my uncle works at Nintendo…” or someone asking for love life advice for “their friend”) and you’re just like “Okay so that’s the settei here, I see.”

Not really a big deal, but Elma’s line here in Japanese implies she won’t let Tohru call her that anymore (see her もう mou). Tohru’s response is also more of a “I haven’t been?”, since of course she wasn’t aware of Elma’s-mental-image-Tohru tormenting Elma in the previous scene:

The word for “full of” in the title here is ざんまい zanmai (a suffix form of 三昧 sanmai), usually meaning that there’s a whole lot of [whatever] to immerse oneself in. I mostly bring it up because there’s a famous restaurant chain called Sushi Zanmai that specializes in, obviously, sushi.

And you know, Elma is a water dragon that looks kinda like an eel… I’m just sayin’…

Not really a translation note, but wild that Elma didn’t even touch her parfait. (Not so wild that Fafnir finished his so quickly.) Serious business ahead...

“Genuinely” here is 素直に sunao ni, where the “ni” is used like “-ly” to make sunao work as an adverb. Sunao itself is an interesting word that falls into that category of “simple concept that is often hellish to translate.”

For some context, the first character, 素, is also used in the word 素顔 sugao, which is a face without makeup and 素材 sozai, basically raw ingredients/materials. The second, 直, is used in words like 直線 chokusen, a straight line, or 正直 shoujiki, honest.

Put them together, and you’ve got a word with connotations of directness and being unadorned. The original definition of the word tends toward “simple, natural” in the sense of e.g. life growing up on a rural farm.

The more common use for it these days is to describe people and their actions. Positively, it can mean something similar to a person being happy to help, or kind of like the opposite of conniving; open, frank, genuine. Less positively, it can mean someone is too trusting and easy to trick into doing things OR someone who is “too honest” and says hurtful things.

(If it helps: tsundere characters are often described as explicitly not sunao.)

In this case, the idea is that Tohru accepted the invitation easily as-is, without putting any conditions on it, or doing any “ugh, what a pain, do I have to, jeez” rigamarole—she just accepted. Another way you could put it in this case might be “It’s even more unusual for Tohru to accept an invitation like this without a fuss.”

Just to point out the hand on head thing again.

Also just to point out that this is another example of otsukare, as a reminder of how ubiquitous that word is.

And it makes a good place to end on: thanks for reading!

#maidragon #Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid #kobayashi-san chi no maid dragon #translation notes #anime

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years ago

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Enough - George Weasley

Title: Enough Pairing: George x Fem!Reader, Adrian Pucey x Fem!Reader Summary: Losing the girl of his dreams was never in George’s plan, and watching her marry someone else certainly wasn’t either. He can only hope that it’s not too late to make things right. Warning: mentions of vomiting, alcohol abuse and comments that can be references to child abuse, but nothing is specifically mentioned. A/N: I combined two different requests for this one because they were pretty similar! So this is for the anons who wanted George crashing the wedding off the woman he loves! Feedback is always welcome!! Tags: @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27 @thefifthweasley

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“There’s my girl,” George greets happily as Y/N skips towards him out of the Arithmancy classroom. He’s still slightly out of breath from running there from Herbology, but it doesn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist and lifting her up slightly.

“George!” Y/N giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck when he finally puts her back on the ground. “You can’t have missed me that much,” she teases, before pulling him down into a brief kiss. “You could have just waited for me in Transfiguration.”

George kisses Y/N again briefly before he grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers. They head towards McGonagall’s classroom slowly as the hall starts to fill with students heading towards the last lesson of the day. “I could have waited for you. But I wanted to walk you to class. I’m a gentleman after all, Y/N.”

“Mhm, sure you are,” Y/N teases, a pink flush on her cheeks.

George truly is her prince charming come to life. Despite the fact that they’ve been together for over three years, George is still finding ways to surprise Y/N and make her feel special. Every evening before a big test there’s a red rose and a bar of her favorite chocolate on her pillow, whenever she gets ready to leave school for a holiday break one of George’s jumpers ends up folded neatly in her trunk and most days George runs across the castle to make sure he can walk Y/N to class, even if it makes him late for his own.

“You break my heart, Y/N,” he jokes, using his grip on her hand to twirl her in a circle. He watches as a smile spreads across her cheeks, his heart pounding in his chest.

From the moment he first talked to Y/N his heart has beat for her and only her. George often feels like he gets lost in a sea of Weasleys, like he’s the one everyone glazes over. To George it seems like all of his siblings stand out in some way, Bill is the oldest, Charlie has his cool job with the dragons, Percy is the smart one, Fred is the loud charming one, Ron is the goofball who’s friends with Harry Potter and of course Ginny is the strong willed younger sister, while he’s just kind of there. He’s always felt like an extension of Fred, he’s George of Fred and George. And he loves being half of the dynamic duo that they are, he loves causing mischief and chaos with his brother. But sometimes he wants to be just George.

Y/N was the first person to just see him. He remembers the day it happened like it was yesterday. It was dinner time, and most of the people at the Gryffindor table were watching Fred recount their great escape from Filch after they charmed his broom to fly away every time he tried to grab it. Everyone seemed to be entranced by him, except for Y/N. She was sitting on George’s other side, completely oblivious to Fred’s antics. She had nudged him and asked what he thought of the transfiguration quiz they’d had the day before. Despite the fact that they were in the same year, George had never spoken to Y/N. She was pretty quiet and kept to herself, far away from the chaos George and Fred created.

But that night she had sought George out, and it made butterflies erupt in his stomach. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but he enjoyed it all the same. They had sat there and talked about which transfiguration spells they found most useful until dinner was over, and they had to head back to the common room. From then on just the sight of Y/N increased George’s heart rate and made butterflies appear in his stomach. Every time he felt himself getting lost in Fred’s shadow Y/N was there, usually with some kind of thought provoking question that would distract him.

When he finally got the courage to ask her on a date they had sat in the Three Broomsticks for hours, sharing shy glances and talking about anything that came to mind. George had asked Y/N how she knew transfiguration was his favorite class, and she revealed that she often watched him in the common room, and it was the only book he ever seemed to open. George had kissed her right there in the middle of the pub, his heart feeling like it was about to pound out of his chest. Y/N had seen him. Just him. And it made George feel like the most special person in the world. From that day on George didn’t care that most people only saw him as that Weasley boy. Or that he was only known to the masses as George of Fred and George. Because Y/N saw him as just George, and that was enough for him.

They reach the Transfiguration classroom then, and George pulls Y/N in for another brief kiss. “You’re my everything,” he breathes, holding her face in his hands.

“Everything okay, George?” Y/N asks, turning her head to press a kiss to his palm. While it’s normal for George to be affectionate, he usually saves such sentiments for when they’re alone and away from prying ears. Mostly Fred’s ears, but it’s unlike him to say something so meaningful while there’s students swirling around them.

Before George has a chance to answer McGonagall is sticking her head out of the classroom door and ushering them inside so class can begin.

“Next week? What do you mean we’re leaving next week?” George asks Fred incredulously.

Fred shushes George and looks to make sure no one heard before leaning in closer to his brother. “Yes, next week. I’m tired of dealing with mega bitch Umbridge and everything else is ready to go. The sooner we get into the space in Diagon Alley the sooner we can open up business and start taking over the world.”

George sighs and rubs his hands over his face. “I thought we would have more time. Leave closer to the end of the school year.”

“You’re not chickening out on me, are you, Georgie?” Fred jokes. When George doesn’t say anything Fred’s face drops. “Are you?” he asks again, his tone more serious.

“I wouldn’t say chickening out,” George mumbles.

Fred slams his fist down on the table, causing George to jump. “We’ve talked about this, George. We’ve dreamed about this, for years. I can’t do it without you, you know that. How can you just abandon me?”

“Oh, stop being such a drama queen,” George responds with an eyeroll. “I’m all in, of course I am.” He bites his lip. “It’s Y/N that I’m worried about.”

“You’re such a fucking sap George, honestly,” Fred teases, ruffling George’s hair. “So, you’re dipping out of school a few months early? What’s the big deal? She’ll graduate, you guys will get married and make a fuck ton of ginger babies. You think she’s going to stop loving you because you don’t finish school or something?”

The thought of his future with Y/N spikes George’s heart rate, and he has to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “I don’t know. Something like that. What if she doesn’t think I’m good enough for her anymore? Or she forgets about me or something?”

“Now you’re being an idiot. Y/N is crazy in love with you, George. Like you’re the center of her universe sort of love. Mum and Dad kind of love.” Fred watches George for a moment, frowning when his brother refuses to meet his gaze. “Invite her to come with us if you’re so torn up about it, Georgie,” he suggests softly.

“What?” George asks, unable to believe what he’s hearing. Fred usually loves to tease George about how Y/N has him wrapped around her finger, and usually his remarks are accompanied by him pretending to crack a whip. George knows that it’s his way of showing his approval of their relationship, so it doesn’t bother him too much. But it doesn’t make it any less weird to hear Fred be so blatantly supportive of George and Y/N.

“Invite her along. Having an extra set of hands while we start everything up wouldn’t hurt, and Y/N is the perfect candidate. She’s way smarter than the two of us combined and she’s the perfect balance to all of our chaos. She’ll keep us grounded.” Fred rolls his eyes when George still doesn’t seem satisfied. “Okay, spill it. You clearly have been worrying about this for a while. What’s going on in that big ‘ol head of yours?”

George leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. His and Fred’s grand exit from school and how Y/N fits in to all of it has been weighing on his mind for weeks. The thought of bringing Y/N along crossed his mind ages ago, and as much as he wishes it was a viable option it’s not. For one, Y/N has always dreamed of being an Arithmancer. Arithmancy fascinates her to no end, and George has spent endless hours admiring her as she pours over different books, always making sure to listen to everything she tells him. He doesn’t want to take that away from her. She’ll need her NEWTS in order to work in the field, and if she comes to work at the joke shop now she’ll never be able to.

But mostly, he’s completely and utterly terrified of the joke shop failing. He and Fred have found success with their products within Hogwarts walls, but taking them out to the world at large is a huge risk. They’ve put every ounce of energy and what little money they have into it, and if it fails they’ll have nothing to fall back on. And George can’t subject Y/N to that. She deserves to have the world handed to her on a platter and even though George’s love for her reaches the end of the universe, that’s not enough to give her the life she deserves. They’ve talked about what they hope their future holds, and George wants to give Y/N everything her heart desires. But he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to do that, and his worst nightmare is letting her down.

“There’s a lot going on,” he admits honestly, choosing to ignore Fred’s tease. “I think I know what I have to do about Y/N and I’ve just been trying to deny it. But it’s the only option.”

“What’s that, George?” Fred asks, but he fears he might already know the answer.

George looks at Fred, a sullen look on his face. “I have to break up with her.”

“Tell me what’s wrong, Georgie. Please,” Y/N asks quietly, looking up at George.

It’s Saturday afternoon, and they’re laying together on George’s bed. It’s a Hogsmeade day, so they’re completely alone, just enjoying being together. George is laying on his back with Y/N cuddled on top of him, one of his hands is under her shirt, pressed against the small of her back while the other is holding one of her hands in his. He and Fred are leaving Monday afternoon, and George is trying to enjoy his last fleeting moments with Y/N.

“It’s nothing, baby. Just thinking about stuff,” he responds, his eyes refusing to leave the ceiling and meet hers.

Y/N presses a kiss to George’s bare chest before nuzzling the soft skin. “Thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other?” Ever since the day George walked with her to Transfiguration Y/N has been able to tell that something is off with him. Usually she can read him like an open book, and the fact that she can’t tell what’s going on in his head scares her.

George digs his fingers into the skin of Y/N’s back. He can feel her heartbeat against his chest, and he’s sure she can hear how loudly his heart is pounding in his. “Baby,” George coos, finally looking down at her. “Look at me, please.” When Y/N finally looks up at him George can see tears pooling in her eyes and it breaks his heart. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in this world. You know that, right?”

“George,” Y/N breathes, squeezing his hand tightly. Normally George confessing his love for Y/N makes her feel dizzy, and makes her heart beat out of her chest. But this feels different to her. Like it’s the last time he’s ever going to say those things to her. “Don’t do this, George. Please.”

George swallow thickly. “I can’t be with you anymore, Y/N. I’m not. I’m not good enough for you. I don’t deserve you and I never have. You deserve the universe and try as I might I’m not the person who can give that to you. I’ve been telling myself I am, but I’m just not, Y/N.”

Tears stream down both of their faces and when Y/N surges forward to kiss George she can feel his tears mixing with hers on her cheeks. She kisses him hard, desperately trying to get him to return it. “Georgie please. I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything before.”

“I know you do,” George says sadly. “But I don’t deserve your love. I’m sorry, Y/N. But it’s over between us.” George watches as Y/N scrambles out of his bed before turning on his side so he doesn’t have to see the woman he loves walk out of his life for good. The sound of the door slamming shut behind Y/N punches a crater in George’s chest, and he finally lets himself sob into his pillow.

“Turn that frown upside down,” Y/N’s mother tuts as she enters Y/N’s bedroom. “Today is supposed to be a day to celebrate. You should be happy.”

Y/N is sitting in front of the vanity in her bedroom, and she locks eyes with her mother in the mirror. Today is her graduation party, a day Y/N had been looking forward to since her parents started planning it at the beginning of the school year. But then George Weasley shattered her heart to pieces two months ago and she’s failed to find the joy in anything since. Y/N is surprised that she even managed to make it through the rest of the school year. The last thing she wants to do is pretend to be hopeful about her future in front of a room full of people when the future she’s spent the last 3 years dreaming about no longer has any possibility of becoming a reality.

“I don’t want to be happy,” Y/N responds lamely. “And I don’t want to pretend to be happy either.”

Y/N’s mother’s expression turns cold. “Your father and I have put up with your dramatics long enough, Y/N and we will not tolerate you embarrassing us today. So get yourself together, get dressed and put a damn smile on your face. This party is happening whether you want it or not.”

“Ugh!” Y/N huffs once her mother is gone, knocking her brush off of her vanity. Of course, today isn’t about her. It’s about her parents showing her off to all of their pureblood friends. Not only had George been the love of Y/N’s life, but he’d been her salvation, her savior from the horrid life her parents had been grooming her for. Y/N’s parents had raised her traditionally, and from a young age it was clear to her that she was going to marry a pureblood boy whether she loved him or not. And even though the Weasley family doesn’t prescribe to many of the pureblood traditions Y/N’s family does, their blood is as pure as can be and her parents reluctantly approved of their relationship.

Y/N and George had talked about what their future would look like, and they both easily came to the conclusion that it would include getting as far away from Y/N’s family as possible. Y/N sparred George from the more intimate details of her childhood but told him enough to make it clear she didn’t want anything to do with her parents once she was an adult. They decided on a large house on a hill in the country, near where George grew up. So their kids could run around barefoot and free, causing all the chaos they want. As graduation had neared, Y/N figured along with it would come a ring on her finger. George had promised to whisk her away from her family as soon as he could, he promised that he would be her new family and it was all they would need. But George had also promised to love Y/N forever. And now all she has left of him are his broken promises to match her broken heart.

Of course, Y/N’s parents had been thrilled when she returned home from Hogwarts with the news that she and George had broken up. All they’ve ever wanted was for Y/N to marry a pureblood boy that would take care of her and give them perfect pureblood grandchildren to spoil. Y/N is their only child, and therefore the only hope of their family legacy continuing on. They had been okay with Y/N marrying George not because they wanted her to be happy, but because they thought giving her what she wanted would give them the opportunity to instill their values in her children, so their traditions could carry on. But now that Y/N and George are no longer together, her possible mates are endless, and they’ve spent much of the past week discussing which son of their friends is best suited to marry her.

Not wanting to face her mother’s wrath, Y/N complies with her wishes. She fixes her hair just right, and puts on enough makeup to accentuate her features, before she changes out of her pajamas and into the expensive silk ballgown her mother had custom made. Y/N is sure it costs more than what most wizards make in a month, and the feeling of the smooth fabric against her skin makes Y/N want to throw up.

“There’s my princess,” Y/N’s father greets as she comes down the stairs.

Every click of her heels against the marble floor makes her stomach lurch, and Y/N can see her hand shake as she reaches out to take the arm her father has offered her. Guests have started to arrive, so she plasters her best fake smile onto her face. “Hi Daddy,” she greets, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Y/N lets her father guide her around the room, shaking the hand of every person they meet and pretending to be interested in what they have to say to her. Y/N is great at pretending, she’s spent her whole life watching her parents pretend to love each other. They had been paired together in an arranged marriage and while they love to put on a show as the perfect couple for their friends, Y/N knows that they sleep in separate bedrooms and her father has had a string of mistress’ her whole life. Everything they do is for the sake of appearances. They don’t care about genuine happiness or pure love, as long as they give off the illusion that they hold those things. George had made Y/N feel both of those things, and now she’s not sure if she’ll ever get to experience them again.

After taking Y/N around the room to greet everyone, her father gets distracted in a conversation with Lucius Malfoy and Y/N takes the opportunity to get away. Her mother has strategically placed a few of their house elves near the staircase so Y/N can’t sneak back up to her room. Instead she finds an empty table as far away from everyone as possible and sulks over to it, sinking down in one of the chairs.

“Why the long face?” a familiar voice asks as they approach Y/N.

Y/N looks up, mustering up the best fake smile she can. “Oh, Adrian! How nice to see you!”

Adrian rolls his eyes as he takes a seat next to Y/N. “You don’t have to pull that crap with me. You know that, Y/N.”

Y/N sighs in relief, and lets her sullen expression take over again. Adrian grew up in the estate next door to Y/N, so Y/N spent a lot of time with him growing up. She spent time with the children of her parent’s other friends as well, but Adrian is the only one she truly considered a friend. He found many of the things his parents taught him utterly ridiculous as well, and it allowed them to grow closer. Their friendship had ultimately faded when they arrived at Hogwarts and Adrian was sorted into Slytherin and Y/N was sorted into Gryffindor, but Y/N still considers him a friend.

“Thanks. I think if I have to pretend to smile one more time my face will actually freeze that way,” she jokes.

“Yeah, I heard about that. About George. I’m sorry.” Adrian reaches out to give Y/N a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure the whole fucking world has heard about it at this point. You should have seen how happy my parents were when they found out. Pretty sure it was the only time either of them has felt genuine joy.”

“Yeah, I heard your dad talking about it with mine the night after we got back from school,” Adrian says. “I see he went out and bought you that diamond bracelet,” he comments, gesturing towards the piece of jewelry on her wrist.

Y/N snorts in laughter. “Graduation present my fucking ass. Only my parents would give me a present to celebrate my heart getting stomped on. Fucking pricks.”

Adrian reaches out and puts his hand on top of Y/N’s, giving it a sympathetic squeeze. “I really am sorry, you know. I could tell how much you loved him.”

“He was my everything,” Y/N admits sadly. As weird as it sounds, it feels good to be talking about this with Adrian. Her parents clearly think one week is a sufficient amount of time to get over a three-year long relationship and she’s been dying to talk about her feelings with someone. “We had plans, you know? Turns out he had plans of his own.”

Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes has been the front-page story of the Daily Prophet since it’s opening last month. The store has been breaking records left and right and people can’t seem to get enough of it. The store was packed with people when Y/N went to Diagon Alley with her mother for a dress fitting earlier in the week and the sight of the store alone made her want to cry.

“You didn’t know? About the store?”

Y/N shakes her head. “I knew he and Fred wanted to start one. He had talked about it loads, it always made him so excited. I just didn’t know how close they were to making it a reality. Though I suppose that was on purpose, since he dumped me right before opening. I guess the future we talked about starting wasn’t good enough for him.”

“He’s a dick, Y/N. You’re amazing. He should have been on his knees praising you everywhere you went. Any guy would be tripping over themselves to give you anything and everything you could ever want,” Adrian comforts, squeezing her hand again.

Y/N smiles her first genuine smile in months, completely unaware that her mother is watching her intensely, a plan forming in her head.

Y/N wakes up the next morning to a soft knock at her door. She lets out a yawn and stretches before muttering a soft ‘come in.’ She figures it’s one of the house elves, so when Y/N’s mother enters her room with her father trailing behind her stomach lurches and she sits up. “What’s going on? Did Nan die?”

“Oh of course not, it’s nothing like that Y/N,” her mother assures with a laugh, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“We just have something to talk to you about,” her father says from his spot in the doorway.

Y/N sighs a breath of relief. Ever since her grandfather passed away Y/N’s Nan has become much more vocal about her distaste for some pureblood traditions and she’s the only family member Y/N can even remotely tolerate. “Thank God. What do we need to talk about then?”

“Your father and I have been talking a lot since your graduation about the next steps in your life,” her mother starts. “Marriage, children, things like that.”

“And we know that you thought that Weasley boy was going to marry you but it’s time to be realistic about things,” her father says firmly.

Y/N rolls her eyes to keep from crying. “Do we really need to talk about this right now? I just woke up.”

“Yes, we do. Because I saw the way you were talking with Adrian Pucey yesterday, and told your father all about it so he could have a conversation with his father.”

Y/N’s stomach drops, and her chest starts to tighten. “No. No you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.” The tears she’d tried to avoid a moment ago start to form in her eyes.

“I did,” her father confirms. “He agrees that you and Adrian would be a perfect match. Adrian already has a job in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry making good money, and his father has agreed to pay for your estate if your mother and I pay for the wedding.”

“No,” Y/N cries softly, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. Adrian isn’t a bad person, but Y/N always hoped she’d marry for love, not for connections.

“Oh quit the dramatics, Y/N. Adrian comes from a good family, you should be happy,” Y/N’s mother squeezes her leg a little too tightly to be comforting as she stands up. “Now get out of bed and get yourself ready. Adrian will be by with his family this afternoon to formally propose so that the announcement can be printed in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet.”

Once her parents have disappeared Y/N collapses back into bed and sobs.

“Will you at least act like you’ve touched a woman before, Adrian!” Adrian’s mother scolds from somewhere behind the camera.

Adrian sighs and gives Y/N an apologetic look before placing his hand on the small of her back. They’ve been trying to get the perfect photo to include with their engagement announcement for the past 20 minutes, and Y/N feels like a doll being played with. Her and Adrian are standing facing each other, and per her mother’s demands Y/N has her left hand on his bicep to show off the fat diamond sitting on her finger while her right hand rests on Adrian’s shoulder. One of Adrian’s hands is cupping her cheek, while the other rests on the small of her back. At least now it does, Adrian has spent the last five photos with it just hovering over her body.

“Okay, now look at each other like you’re in love,” Y/N’s mother demands. Y/N looks into Adrian’s eyes and plasters her best fake smile onto her face and she can hear her mother make a satisfied noise. “Now as the picture is taken Adrian I want you to lean in and kiss Y/N’s forehead.”

Adrian opens his mouth to protest, but Y/N gives him a look. “Just do it,” she murmurs between gritted teeth as she continues to smile. “I just wanna get this shit over with.”

When the photographer tells them to move they do, and the flash of the camera nearly blinds Y/N as Adrian kisses her on the forehead to complete the photo. Thankfully the photo seems to satisfy both their mothers, and Adrian and Y/N can finally break apart as they head into the other room with the photographer to write the announcement.

“I’m really sorry about all of this,” Adrian apologizes.

Y/N collapses onto the couch with a sigh. “It’s not your fault our parents are the way they are.”

“I know,” Adrian responds, sitting down next to her. “But you’re very obviously still in love with George. This can’t be easy.”

“It really fucking sucks,” Y/N admits with a sad laugh. “I always thought we’d skip all of this bullshit stuff and just get married in his parent’s backyard or something. I don’t care about all of this traditional crap. I mean who even reads those stupid engagement announcements? Why do people care who’s getting married?”

Adrian laughs. “I’m sure no one we know does. It’s just for them to show off to all of their friends. Your mum can show the picture off and brag about how big that stupid diamond is, and my dad can show it off and brag about how hot of a wife he found me.”

“Ew,” Y/N grimaces, a shiver running down her spine. “I really hope no one we know sees it. Not because you’re a bad person or anything, but just because of how embarrassing that photo is gonna be.” In reality, Y/N hopes that no one in George’s family ever sees that picture.

“Nice of you to finally join the living,” Fred comments as he watches George shuffle out of his bedroom. It’s Saturday, so the shop opens a bit later than usual and George has decided to take full advantage and sleep in. Fred puts the Daily Prophet down and pours his brother a cup of coffee as George sits across from him.

“Very funny,” he groans, grabbing the cup and taking a large gulp.

George should feel like he’s on top of the world. Their shop is a huge success, he and Fred are living on their own and they’re finally making some real money. But in reality he feels like shit. He hasn’t felt the same since he broke up with Y/N. His chest feels empty and hollow without her in his life, and he spends all day at the store pretending to be his usual jovial self only to lock himself in his room with a bottle of firewhiskey every night. He knows drinking is not the way to solve his problems, but the firewhiskey burns his throat as it goes down, and it’s the only time of day where he truly feels alive.

“You reek, George. How much did you drink last night?” Fred asks, his voice full of concern. Over the past two months Fred has watched George slowly become a shell of the person he once was. He fakes it quite well for everyone else, but Fred can see through all the bullshit. He feels absolutely helpless as he watches George destroy himself, and Fred’s starting to get desperate.

George shrugs, taking another sip. “I don’t know. Half a bottle, maybe more. Who cares?”

“I do,” Fred insists. “You can’t keep living like this George. I’m worried about you.” Fred pauses. “I know you still care about Y/N-“

“Don’t,“ George says harshly, cutting Fred off. “Don’t talk about her, don’t even say her name. She’s all I can fucking think about and it hurts too much to hear you say it.”

“Okay,” Fred says softly, picking the paper back up. He starts to flick through the pages mindlessly, just trying to seem occupied to give George some space. Fred wants to help him, but he also doesn’t want to push him deeper into his depression. He’s just turned the page to the engagement announcements when George clears his throat.

“You get to the engagement announcements yet?” George asks. When Fred looks up at him confused George rolls his eyes. “Lee and I have a bet going, to see how long it takes for someone from our class to show up in them. You know how those traditionalists are, they pair their kids off before the ink on their diplomas starts to dry.”

Fred laughs, and let’s his eyes scan the page for a moment. He’s about to hand the paper to George when his eye catches a rather large photo. He gasps and immediately crushes the paper up. “Nope. No one from our class yet.”

“You’re full of shit,” George chides, narrowing his eyes. “Come on, give it here. If there’s an announcement in there I win 10 galleons.”

Fred holds the paper just out of George’s reach. “I told you there’s nothing in there. No Galleons for you. Now drink your coffee and get ready so we can head down into the shop.”

George gets up as if he’s going to head towards the bathroom, but he ends up charging at Fred and grabbing the paper from him. “I don’t know what your problem is, did Lee promise you part of his winnings or something?” George opens the paper, letting his eyes scan the announcements. He’s not really paying attention to the photos, just trying to find a name that sounds familiar. “Ha! There it is! Adrian Pucey, who would have thought.” But as George continues to read the announcement bile comes up his throat and he throws the paper down so he can run to the bathroom and heave into the toilet.

Y/N strolls through Diagon Alley slowly, basking in the freedom. Ever since the engagement announcement appeared in the Daily Prophet her house has become wedding central. Gifts and cards from distant family members and acquaintances arrive in droves every day, and Y/N’s mother is driving her crazy with the plans. Every day from the moment she wakes up until the moment she goes to bed is filled with wedding decisions that she truly doesn’t give a shit about. She doesn’t care about the seating chart or the color scheme. The only thing she cares about is that she’s not marrying George Weasley, and no matter how many plans they make that fact will never change.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Y/N apologizes. She’d been so lost in thought she ran right into someone. She looks up at the man she bumped into and her heart stops beating when she looks into a pair of familiar brown eyes and spots a shock of fiery red hair. But a moment later she realizes it’s not who she thinks it is. “Oh. Fred.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Fred sneers, suddenly filling with rage. He knows what happened between Y/N and George is not her fault, but his resentment towards her has started to grow since the engagement announcement. George has stopped leaving his room at all, and the sound of his drunken sobs keep Fred up at night. It kills Fred to see his brother hurting, and he can’t help but blame Y/N for all of it.

“You saw it then?” Y/N asks, hanging her head in shame.

“Even if I didn’t that god-awful gaudy diamond on your hand is a dead giveaway.” Fred clears his throat. “George did too.”

Y/N’s head snaps up and she can feel tears forming in her eyes. “No, no, no. He wasn’t supposed to see that. Is he okay? How’s he doing?” Y/N watches as Fred’s jaw clenches. “Please, Fred. I need to know.”

“Why do you care?” he practically shouts. “So you can go and laugh about it with Adrian? I can’t believe you, Y/N. George gave you his all. You were his entire world. You were apart what? Two months? And now you’re about to get married to some other fuck head. Why? Because he has money? Because his family has a better status?”

Y/N wipes away some of the tears that have started to fall down her cheeks. “Fuck you, Fred. I don’t care about any of that, you know that. And do I need to remind you that George is the one who broke up with me? I trusted him with my heart, and he crushed it. All I ever wanted was George, all I still want is George.”

Fred takes a deep breath, needing to calm himself down. “Then why the hell are you marrying Adrian? George is beside himself. He doesn’t even come out of his room anymore.”

“You think I have a choice?” Y/N asks, her voice cracking under the weight of the emotions she’s feeling. “I’m not marrying Adrian because I love him, I’m marrying Adrian because my parents arranged it to be that way. My parents are vile, Fred. They don’t see me as their daughter, I’m a pawn for them to play with. It’s either submit or be punished and I’m not going to stand here and let you make me feel even worse than I already do.”

Fred grabs Y/N’s wrist as she turns to walk away, and he pulls her into a tight hug. “Y/N, I had no idea. George said your parents were traditionalists, but he never mentioned anything like that.”

“Because I never told him,” Y/N admits as she pulls away from Fred. She wipes away a few of the lingering tears as she looks up at him. “George is too innocent, too pure to know about the shit they put me through growing up. George is the only person who ever truly made me feel loved and without him I feel like I’m in a horrible nightmare that I can never wake up from.”

“You can’t marry Adrian, Y/N. You and George, you guys are soulmates,” Fred says quietly. “You have to be together.”

Y/N scoffs. “Tell your brother that, he’s the one who dumped me out of nowhere. Clearly he doesn’t feel the same away about me as I do him.”

“You can’t seriously believe that, Y/N. George is going crazy without you. He barely eats, he barely sleeps.” Fred swallows thickly. “He’s been drinking. A lot. Way more than anyone should. It’s scary. Every time I try and talk to him he shuts me out. He’s lost without you.”

The ache Y/N has felt in her chest since the day George ended things intensifies with Fred’s every word. It kills her to know that George is hurting just as much as she is. “I still love him, Fred. With every fiber of my being. But I don’t know if that’s enough anymore. Everything’s gotten so complicated.”

“Just promise me one thing. Promise me that you won’t walk down that aisle and marry Adrian until you talk to George.” Y/N opens her mouth to say something, but Fred puts his hand up to stop her. “I’ll take care of George. I’ll Stupefy him and drag him to you if I have to. Just promise me you won’t marry him until you see George.”

“I promise, Fred. The wedding is next week on Friday. I’ll wait for George until the moment I have to walk down the aisle. But if he doesn’t make it.” Y/N shakes her head. “It’ll be too late.”

When Fred gets back to their flat after his conversation with Y/N he’s filled with determination. George is the person he cares most about in the world and he’ll be damned if he lets him ruin is life. He goes straight to George’s bedroom door, using his wand to unlock it. He throws it open, flipping on the light switch.

“What do you want you fucking prick?” George groans, rolling over in his bed.

Fred carefully moves around the firewhiskey bottles strewn about on the floor and heads over to the window. He throws the curtains open, letting the sunlight shine on George for the first time in weeks. “Get your ass out of bed. You’re done wallowing in self-pity.”

“Fuck you,” George grumbles, opening his eyes to glare at Fred. “What’s the point in doing anything anymore? I ruined my chance with the only girl I’ve ever wanted. She’s supposed to marry me, Fred. Not that fucking moron Adrian. He doesn’t love her like I do, and he never will. But she doesn’t deserve me. Not anymore anyway.”

Fred sighs and sits down on the edge of George’s bed. “You’re right, he doesn’t love her like you do. And she doesn’t love him either.”

“Nice try, Fred. But I’m not getting out of this bed no matter how many lies you tell me,” George sighs, before turning over in bed.

“Her parents are making her marry Adrian, George,” Fred says firmly.

George turns back to face Fred and sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’m sorry what did you say?”

“I ran into Y/N, when I was down in Diagon Alley. I really let her have it, Georgie. I told her off for getting with Adrian so soon after you ended it with her, and she just broke down crying.” Fred reaches out and puts a comforting hand on George’s knee. “She’s in love with you, George. Not him. Her parents arranged their marriage, she doesn’t have a choice.”

George puts his head in his hands, letting Fred’s words sink in. Of course, it all makes sense to him now. Y/N had once briefly mentioned that her parents never loved each other, George had brushed it off at the time, but it’s all becoming clear. Arranged marriages between pureblood families is pretty commonplace, and he feels like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

“I’m such a fucking idiot, Freddie,” George groans, looking up at his brother. “I never should have even dumped her in the first place. What the fuck was I thinking? I was scared of disappointing her when in reality I was being a big fat idiot.”

“Big fat idiot is right,” Fred teases, trying to get George to smile. “But the important part is that it’s not too late. I made her promise not to marry him until she talks to you again.”

“Why didn’t you start with that?” George asks, finally cracking a smile. “So what’s the plan then?”

Fred grins at George, his eyes alight with mischief. “We’ve got a wedding to crash.”

Y/N fidgets as she stands in the middle of her room, unable to keep herself from glancing at the clock. She’s standing there in her wedding dress, thirty minutes away from walking down the aisle and she’s yet to see George or hear from Fred. The possibility that George doesn’t want to see her ever again makes her want to throw up, but she has to hold out hope that he’s going to show up. She knows now more than ever that George is the person she’s supposed to end up with, and she prays that Fred made him realize that too.

“There’s my girl.”

At the sound of George’s voice Y/N turns around a smile spreading on her face. “George,” she greets. In the blink of an eye George is across the room and wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling Y/N into his chest. Y/N wraps her arms around George’s neck and presses their lips together in a desperate kiss.

“I love you,” George murmurs as they pull apart. “I have always loved you Y/N. Breaking up with you was the worst decision I made in my entire life.”

Y/N can feel the tears falling down her face, and she presses their foreheads together. “Why did you do it, George? You mean everything to me. I would walk to the ends of the earth to be with you. You have to know that.”

“I do baby, I do,” George whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I was scared of letting you down. You are a Goddess, Y/N. You deserve to have the world handed to you on a silver platter and I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to give that to you. You deserve the future we dreamed of having, and it killed me to think you’d never get that with me.”

“I don’t care about having any of that. All I care about is having you,” Y/N admits, kissing George briefly. “You made me feel safe, and happy and loved, and that’s all I need, George.”

George kisses Y/N again, needing to feel her lips on his. “I know that now. And I really hope it’s not too late to give that all to you, Y/N. You are the only person who has ever made me feel special, the only person who’s ever bothered to look at me. And if you let me I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you feel special too.”

“I love you, George. It’s always been you. It will always be you.” Y/N breathes in deeply as George kisses her again, finally feeling like she’s home.

“I love you so much and as much as I would love to stand here and kiss you forever we gotta go. Fred should be almost done setting things up by now. Get changed and grab some stuff, okay?”

Y/N nods and gets undressed, throwing on whatever clothes her hands reach first. She throws a few of her favorite things into her school trunk, which is still packed with her things from the end of the school year. “Good riddance,” Y/N mumbles as she yanks off her engagement ring and throws it onto her dresser.

“Ready to go?” George asks, grabbing Y/N’s trunk.

Just as her hand closes around her wand explosions start to go off and people downstairs start screaming. “What the hell is that?” she asks, hooking an arm around George’s.

George grins down at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “A new line of whizbangs we’re testing out. A little goodbye present for your parents and Adrian.”

“Well would you look at that,” George chuckles as he reads the paper.

Y/N presses a kiss to the side of his head as she sets his coffee down on the table, letting George pull her into his lap. “What’s that, love?”

George puts the paper down so he can rest one of his hands on Y/N’s ever-growing baby bump and the other can cup her cheek and pull their lips together. No matter how many years they’ve been together, kissing Y/N makes him just as giddy as the first time. “Adrian’s getting married.”

Y/N laughs and rests her hand on top of the one George has on her belly, intertwining their fingers. “Think we’ll get invited?”

“Considering the way we ruined his first wedding? Not a chance in hell.” George teases with a smile, pulling Y/N in for another kiss.

They might not have as much money as Adrian, or a big rolling estate to show off. But Y/N and George have each other and their growing family – and that’s enough for them.

#George weasley #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley x reader #gw #golden

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imagine-that · 4 years ago

Text

Gone

Pairing: Alex Karev x reader

Warnings: ANGST! Mentions of abandonment, spoilers for season 16 episode 16

Your heart pounded against your chest as you opened the crisply folded letter with shaking fingers.

You could still remember the last time you spoke to him, the last words you shared. You were so scared he was hurt or dead or something in the past week. The letter was a relief but the idea of getting that instead of his typical lengths of communication like a text or phone call was unnerving.

“Dr y/l/n?” You heard Owen calling to you but your ears were ringing too strongly to focus on his words.

You were on his service for the day but this was immediately trumping any form of work you were supposed to be getting to.

“Y/n,

I’m not good with words. I never have been, as I know you know. So I’m just going to start out with it. I’m not beating around the bush on this one. I am in Kansas with Izzie. I know it may come as a shock or betrayal or something like that but it’s the truth. When I was reaching out to people for Mer’s hearing, I called her. A little girl answered and I had no idea why. It didn’t register at first. But then she gave Izzie the phone. Izzie was shocked to hear from me but she quickly told me about our kids. Ours. I’m a father. I never realized how much I wanted that until it was a reality. I went out here to meet them and I just can’t bring myself to leave them or to come back. The minute I looked at those big brown eyes of my little boy, I was a goner. I will always love you, more than you could possibly ever know. You’re the greatest love of my life and for that I will always thank you. I wish it didn’t have to go like this. It shouldn’t go like this. You’ve been there for me since the Dr Evil Spawn days and I’m a shit guy for not being able to say the same. I’ve left my share of the hospital and my seat on the board in your name. I know that can’t make up for this but it’s the best I’ve got. I love you. But I’m still in love with Izzie. I hope someday you’ll forgive me. I hope someday you’ll be happier than I ever could’ve possibly made you.

Alex.”

You drop the letter on the table, your eyes glistening with unshed tears, your hand covering your open mouth as a small sob escapes.

You felt more naive than ever, thinking he was just visiting his mom. Thinking he was coming back for you, coming back TO you. Your mind swirled with random things you might’ve missed, that he might’ve done or said that could tip you off.

“Y/l/n!” Hunt repeated louder, bringing you back to your senses.

“What?!” You snap, turning your tearful gaze to him.

“Are you ready to prep for our surgery or not goddamnit?” He demands. You jump out of your chair, no longer feeling like you can stay sitting down.

“No I’m not.” You mutter, running your hands through your hair.

“Did you just say you’re unprepared for a surgery we’ve had on the board since yesterday y/l/n?!” He asks, bewildered by your response.

“Yes, yes I did! And before you say anything more on the subject, it isn’t because I didn’t study long and hard or because I got drunk last night and am hungover because I’m not! It’s because I just found out my boyfriend, the absolute love of my fucking life is gone! He left me for his ex and her secret kids! I am officially alone and I can’t bear it, I can’t even breathe! The one person who matters to me is gone, without so much as a proper goodbye! So ask someone else to scrub in just this one time, for the patients sake and my own Hunt.” You cry out, your eyes stinging with tears.

He reaches over to comfort you, unsure what else to do but you hold out your hands to stop him.

“Focus on the patient Hunt. She needs you more than I do.” You instruct, blinking away the tears to try and lower his concern.

He takes a moment but finally he leaves, making sure the door shuts behind him for you.

As you hear the hinges settle, you fall the the floor in an emotional fit. Your hands rest on your head, running through your hair. The room is silent, all except for your loud sobbing.

You hiccup, trying to catch your breath, trying to find the will to get up and get back to anything.

Soon, the door opens and you gasp for air, trying to regain calmness for whoever it was.

“Save the acting job y/l/n, I just read a letter from Alex Karev handing in his resignation and came right down here. Get over here.” Bailey orders, holding her arms wide open.

You scramble to your feet, not wasting any time in getting into her hug. She holds you, rubbing your back soothingly as you cry into her shoulder.

“He-he said he’d never- never leave me.” You stammer between hiccups. “He- he promised me!” You sob, letting all your unsaid words fall out of your mouth for Bailey to hear.

“I know y/n, I know.” She says, patting down your hair.

You start to catch your breath a bit, pulling away from her and crossing your arms over your chest.

“I kind of made a mess of your sweater, I’m so sorry chief Bailey.” You mutter, staring down at your simple white shoes in shame.

“Oh please, it can be washed. You feel free to let it all out if you need to.” She dismisses, smiling sadly at you.

Suddenly your pager buzzed. With a sniffle, you checked it quickly and pulled your hair back, quickly blowing your nose and wiping your eyes afterwards.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Bailey asks, eyeing you.

“That was Dr Hunt, he needs me down in the pit while he’s in surgery.” You explain, sniffling a little more.

“Oh no. Nuh uh. You’ll send an intern for that. I’m calling Wilson up here and she’s going to take you home.” She orders.

“Bailey, I’m fine. Really.” You promise her but you both know you’re lying.

“No.” She says sternly. “Stay here!” She orders, walking out into the hallway.

It doesn’t take her long to spot Jo walking down the hall. She brings her in to the room and shuts the door.

“I trust you’ll be very, VERY discreet with this Wilson.” She warns, walking off to order someone else around.

“What’s happening?” Jo asks, obviously very confused.

Too tired and emotionally distraught to explain, you simply point at the letter laying on the table.

She skims it over and without a word, envelopes you in a strong hug.

“Wilson, I can’t breathe.” You sigh quietly.

“Sorry. It’s just- you two were perfect together. You were the perfect example of a healthy, happy couple. I thought- everyone thought you two were soulmates.” She rambles.

“Well everyone thought wrong, he loves someone else. Would you please drive me ho- to Avery’s? I just- I can’t be at home right now. I can hardly call that place home without him...” You plead, getting teary eyes all over again.

“Of course! Let’s go, I just have to change out of my scrubs. You probably should too.” She suggests but you shake your head.

The clothes you’d worn to work that day held memories. Alex had given you the shirt for your Christmas present a few years ago when he’d been too stupid to think of something meaningful. The shoes were ones you’d worn on your first official date. The jeans were the ones you’d worn the first day of intern year, the first day you’d met him.

There was no possible way you could put any of them on without your entire body aching and longing for his touch.

“Ok, ok. I’ll meet you in the lobby. Just one second.” She orders, leaving the room.

You stand there for a moment, hugging your arms around yourself.

When Jo returns, Avery’s with her.

“What is it y/n, I was about to head into a surgery.” He says impatiently.

You give Jo a tired warning look, to which she responds with a sympathetic, sad smile.

“Alex left. He isn’t coming back.” You sigh hoarsely.

He looks completely shocked, blinking at you for a second.

“Are- are you ok? What do you need?” He asks, rushing to your side.

“I’m fine just- is it ok if I stay at yours?” You ask, biting down on your thumbnail absentmindedly.

“Of course! Stay as long as you need, you have a key right?” He says, looking even more concerned than before. You simply nod.

“I’m gonna give y/n a ride over there then but could you go down to the lobby with him/her/them and just stay there while I change? No one should have to be alone if something like this happens.” Jo explains.

You numbly grab your pager off the table along with the letter and follow Avery down to the lockers where you quickly grab your things, barely glancing at them as you do so.

He leads the way to the lobby wearily, acting far over protective of you.

You stand in silence staring at your shoes, practically enough to burn holes into them. Few people try to stop and ask questions but when they do, Jackson puts a stop to it with a simple look.

Soon Jo rejoins you and takes your arm, leading you to her car in the parking lot. Avery says goodbye but you don’t respond, too scared to speak.

You sit in the passenger seat and stare out the window at the Seattle night scene, feeling more empty than you ever had in your entire life.

——————————————————

6 months later...

You wearily let your knuckle tap the door a few times, fidgeting with your bare right ring finger. Not long ago, a silver ring had a place there. Not long ago, the person who presented you with that ring had his arms around you, smiling softly at you. That smile continued to haunt your dreams, your mind, your everything.

Maybe what you were doing was a bad idea. You knew that. But you needed it. It was like an itch, you couldn’t not scratch it.

A perky looking blonde opened the door and you didn’t even have to look at her to know who it was. Her long hair was in a perfect ponytail, she wore an apron covered in flour and had a little girl attached to her leg.

“Hi, how can I help you?” She asked with a friendly smile.

“Izzie I presume?” You say, gritting your teeth and cursing yourself for your idiotic decision to come out here.

“Yes? Do I know you?” She asks, clearly puzzled.

“No I guess not. I uh... I started at Grey-Sloan the same year as you. As an intern.” You explain vaguely, feeling too cowardly to go any deeper into detail.

The little girl peers up at you, clearly very curious. It’s enough to make you want to run away, never look back.

“Alexis honey, go find daddy and tell him he has a visitor.” She tells the small girl. She nods up to her, running off with a big smile.

The blonde eyes you up and down and you nervously rub your hand up and down your arm, trying to figure out what to do with your hands.

“Izzie who’s at the do-.” A painfully familiar voice starts, his mouth agape as your eyes meet.

“Hi.” You say sheepishly.

“Y/n...” He says, more like a statement than anything else.

“Daddy who’s your friend? She’s/he’s/they’re real pretty.” The little girl says with a shy grin.

You smile at her a bit, trying to keep from crying again.

“Thank you. So are you.” You reply with a forced smile.

“Kids go with your mom and help her with the cookies. Daddy and his friend need to talk.” Alex says, his eyes never leaving your face.

Izzie watches you both for a moment, hesitant to leave you alone until Alex gives her a pleading look and she takes each kid into their extravagant kitchen.

“Let’s um... let’s go and talk outside.” He suggests, rubbing the back of his neck. You don’t say another word and you follow him out to the yard, sitting down with him.

“How did you even find out where I live?” He asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“Well, I first considered paying a PI to track you down. I wanted to make you feel even a fraction of what I felt.” You admit honestly.

He nods but completely avoids all eye contact.

“But then Meredith told me you gave her the address in your letter to her. That you invited her to meet your kids.” You add, kicking your feet around to distract yourself.

“Those letters must’ve arrived pretty late, I sent them over 6 months ago.” He mutters, biting at his index finger.

“No... they got there then. I just- I couldn’t bring myself to come out here and make a damn fool of myself.” You respond, biting your bottom lip. “Kind of like I’m doing now.” You add under your breath.

“Y/n, why are you here?” He asks, finally meeting your eyes with his own.

“Well evil spawn,” you start off and he does the half grin that makes your head spin every time, even now. “I had to see you. I had to see what it was you- you left me for.” You admit with a gulp.

“Y/n-“ he says but you shake your head.

“No. Let me finish. Please.” You whisper, your eyes watering again. He nods for you to proceed. “When I met you, that first day of intern year, you were a complete ass. Charming, funny but a complete ass. I got to know you and I fell for you, fell hard. My heart practically beat just for you. When you left... I was devastated. I didn’t know how I could live. I didn’t know how I could do what I love and work with all these kids, some of which you treated their entire lives.” You explain.

“Y/n I never meant to hurt you.” He promises, gulping down a lump in his throat.

“Don’t you think I know that?” You ask with a sad laugh. “God, I know you would never mean to. But I just- we have this... this story. I loved you. I loved you with everything I had and I just- your shares and your seat don’t make up for those years of love and memories I have. That WE have.” You say, tears streaming down your face.

“I remember the first time we were in the on call room together and you were already asleep and I came in and turned on the lights and you were so angry until you looked up and saw it was me. You started flirting, suggesting we share a bed to keep room for other Doctors. You actually fell off that bunk and said ‘guess I really fell for you huh’. That was the first day you made me smile the way you always did. It was the first time I took any kind of liking to you whatsoever.” You go on, smiling sadly at the past.

“I remember that. I had a bump on my damn head for weeks but it was worth the headache to see you smile like that at me. Because of me.” He chuckles.

“Yeah. I know, you kept trying to tell people it was because I was a freak in bed.” You roll your eyes at the thought that the man in front of you would ever say something like that.

“Anyway, my point is that I have all these great memories and experiences. But they’re all tainted with this one thing.” You sigh, staring at the gravel road.

“I’m not in love with Izzie.” He blurts, making your head shoot up to face him. “I don’t... I don’t know why I said I was in that letter. I think it was just to make it hurt so you wouldn’t hunt me down.” He continues.

“You always have liked keeping people at arms length.” You murmur.

“That’s not fair, you know it isn’t.” He exclaims in defence.

“I don’t even know what fair is anymore Alex! You took that from me too when you left!” You cry back. “You left me! You took off, taking everything of me with you. My dignity included. I cried, no I sobbed in front of Miranda Bailey, my boss! I cried in front of her and all over her scrubs! I can’t even enter my own home! It’s been 6 whole months but I can’t bring myself to go back in that loft because it will drown me and I won’t be able to come up for air Alex!” You shout.

He looks to the ground, keeping his distance and not speaking.

“And Alex? That feeling? It hurts. It hurts so damn much, I ache all over trying to control it, trying to stop it. My body, my heart, everything aches for you even now and I can’t do a thing about it.” You continue, too worked up to stop.

“You left me stranded with not so much as a proper goodbye. THAT is why I am here. I need at least some fraction of myself back.” You say quietly.

“I love you y/n. Like I said in the letter, I always will.” He says sheepishly, pursing his lips as he stares down the ground.

“What, you think that letter of all things helps me or even helps you? It doesn’t.” You mumble.

“What else do I say exactly. That I miss you? Because I do. I miss you like crazy. But I can’t- I cannot leave my kids.” He sighs.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m not asking you to come back either. I’m not asking for anything. I just needed to say SOMETHING to you. I needed this for myself. It might be selfish or stupid considering you didn’t give me permission to come here like you did for Mer but I honestly don’t care.” You rant.

“Y/n, you’re kidding me right? I’m the selfish one here! I’m the one who made an idiot of myself, leaving the people I know, the people I love for this.” He exclaims, hand running down his head. “I mean I love those kids with everything I’ve got but I don’t belong here. I’ve tried to make it work with her but it’s become even more abundantly clear that she and I never have and never will work.” He admits.

You look at him, wide eyes, taking in everything he just said. You could feel yourself trying to resist him, trying to ignore the way he still looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

“I should’ve never left.” He mutters, head in his hands.

“Alex-.” You start, not wanting to hear the words you knew he would say, that you know would make you weak in the knees.

“No y/n, for real. It was stupid of me to think I could just abandon everything I cared about to move here.” He mutters, running his hand down his jawline.

You sit in silence for a moment, trying to process.

“You’re right. It was stupid.” You agree, avoiding his eyes. “But it’s a little late now. You have kids Alex. They... they depend on you. You can’t just leave that.” You say with a sad smile his way.

“I wouldn’t have to! The kids, they would love Seattle. And everyone there would love them! Not to mention, they would absolutely adore you y/n. Just like I do.” He says excitedly.

“Alex... Something tells me that Izzie would never be ok with that. And we both know with your situation she would win a custody battle. Not to mention the fact that you shouldn’t put them through that in the first place.” You argue.

“God, you’re right. You’re always right y/n. It’s annoying how much you’re right about things.” He groans.

You laugh a bit, getting to your feet.

“And it’s funny how wrong but cocky you always are.” You counter, giving him a goofy smile.

“I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed seeing that smile until you were already thoroughly pissed at me.” He laughs.

“I was not THOROUGHLY pissed at you...” You say and he raises an eyebrow.

“That’s not what Mer told me.” He teases and you blush pink.

“Fine I was practically throwing darts at your picture. But I got over it. Eventually.” You grumble

He nods, clearly understanding why you would have been angry. You already knew him well enough to know he would be just as angry at himself as you were.

“You know the reason I didn’t give you the address right?” He asks suddenly, his head bolting up out of his hands. You shake your head no and he starts to chuckle a bit, the half grin spread across his face. “I uh... I already knew that if I did, you would storm your way down here to yell at me and I would’ve taken one look into those big, beautiful y/e/c eyes of yours, I would never be able to stay here. I should’ve known this was a bad idea from just that alone. I’m in love with YOU. Izzie may be the mother of my children but you are the love of my life. I wish I’d never left you.” He reveals.

“I really mean that much to you Karev?” You ask, biting at your lip unsurely.

He looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind. “Of course you do y/n. You always have and I already know you always will. You’re my world, even now. Just the idea of you moving on drives me insane, no matter how selfish it is for me to say.” He rants.

This time, you can’t control your emotions or your movements. You go up to him and grab him gently by the back of his neck, pulling him in and smashing your lips on his. He immediately gives in, grabbing at your back and pulling you even closer, as though he was scared to let go.

You pull away, stopping yourself and him from going any further.

“I’d say that was the most proper our kind of goodbye could get.” You say quietly, touching a finger to your lips as you slowly step backwards, moving away from Alex.

“Y/n!” He tries to stop you but you’re already on a sprint down the driveway, not wanting to mess things up for his family anymore than you felt you already had.

And with that, you ran from the love of your life, not even looking back to see if he was chasing you this time or not.

#imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #grey’s anatomy fic #greys anatomy fanfic #greys anatomy imagines #greys anatomy #greys anatomy imagine #grey’s anatomy imagine #meredith grey #alex karev imagine #alex karev #Alex karev fanfic #angst #fanfic angst #alex karev angst #greys anatomy fandom

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vampiregirl1797 · 4 years ago

Text

Hoodies & Lacrosse

Peter Kavinsky x Reader

GIF Not Mine

For my Masterlist, Click Here.

Word Count: 1,566

A/N: This one was requested by the awesome @mychemicalimagines. I hope this is everything you imagined it to be, lovely! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get this done for you, but I’ve been so swamped with uni work and placement that I’ve just had no motivation for writing. But inspiration struck tonight and I decided to put it to good use.

A/N/Pt2: If you’re in to Friends and Twilight check out their imagines! The series’ are so good and addictive, I cannot recommend them enough! Leaving a link to the Masterlist HERE.

I blinked owlishly, trying to make my eyes feel less exhausted, but it was to no avail—I’d been unable to sleep last night and I was unwilling to admit that it was because Peter had asked for his hoodie back. I’d taken it months ago, well not purposefully, he’d just left it behind one day after we’d been hanging out. I’d been chilly that night, and I figured I’d throw it on, only to discover it was the comfiest thing ever—it was huge on me and it smelled of him, and so I’d grown accustomed to how content and safe it made me feel. Obviously I hadn’t realised how much I’d grown to rely on it to sleep until last night at around three in the morning, when I realised it was the first time in months I’d gone to bed not wearing it.

I yawned, pulled my cardigan tighter around me, and took a large gulp of the coffee I’d poured myself before leaving the house to head to school. I’d managed to drop off around five in the morning, which led to me sleeping through my first four alarms. By some grace of god, I’d made it to first period as the bell rang. I finished off my coffee, and threw the disposable cup into the recycling bin on my way out of the room—thank god I’d had the beverage as my first period had been math; I’d have definitely dozed off without it.

‘Hey, Y/N! Wait up!’ I paused at the sound of my best friend’s voice, mixed feelings erupting through me. Tiredness made me clingy, which Pete was used to, but I was also a little pissed being as in my mind it was his fault I was tired to begin with.

‘Hey, asshat’ I grumbled, wrapping my arm around his waist and melting into his comforting warmth.

He chuckled, ‘such wonderful greetings from you, Y/N. It’s a wonder my head fits through the halls with how much you boost my ego.’

I rolled my eyes, an involuntary smile forming on my face, ‘I’m tired, I think I got thirty minutes of sleep last night. I can’t to go home and sleep until Sunday.’

‘Why didn’t you sleep? Is there something on your mind?’ I felt my irrational irritation with him soften at the concern in his voice; he knew me well enough to know if I had trouble sleeping, it usually meant there was something on my mind causing my insomnia.

‘No, I just didn’t realise how much I’d come to rely on your hoodie until you took it away.’ I felt my lips form into a slight pout, and had I not been exhausted and as a result, needy, I would have been embarrassed.

My head was tucked into his side, my face against his chest, and so I missed the soft, fond look that overtook his expression. I did notice the new girl giving us a look of longing and jealousy, but I ignored her. The other students would clue her in soon enough—we were friends, best, best friends. It may look like we were more due to how touchy we both were with each other, but our relationship didn’t extend beyond a deep, meaningful friendship. It had taken a while for everyone to understand it, and to stop giving us the same look the new girl was giving us now, but they learned eventually.

‘How about this…’ Peter’s voice bought me back to the conversation, ‘you come to my game tonight, and I’ll give you my hoodie to keep forever.’

I bit my lip to hide my smile; it was typical Peter Kavinsky. He knew I wouldn’t miss one of his games—I was always there, rain or shine, wearing his jersey and cheering him on. But he was sweet enough to make it sound like I was doing him a favour when in reality, it was him who was doing something nice for me, by making sure I got his hoodie doing something I was planning on anyway.

I looked up to him, ignoring how my heart fluttered when he tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear when it fell in front of my eyes, ‘you’d give up your favourite hoodie, for me to come to your game?’

I felt my heart melt at the bashful expression that overtook his features, ‘of course I would. I mean it took me months to realise you had it anyway. Clearly it means more to you than it does to me.’

‘You make a good point.’ I teased, biting my lip as I thought and missing the way his eyes followed the movement, ‘okay, if you’re really okay with it, you have a deal.’

‘Awesome.’ He grinned, and I found myself subconsciously beaming back at him, powerless to not return his happiness.

‘Come on, Peter!’ I mumbled under my breath, the tension in the air palpable and affecting everyone, it was as if we were all holding our breath in anticipation, ‘you’ve got this!’

Peter ran forward, passed the defence and took his shot at the goalie. It was so quiet I could hear the puck hitting the back of the net and I was unable to hold back my cheer of happiness, which seemed to snap everyone else out of their shock and they joined me. Brown eyes found mine and I felt my heart skip a beat as he unclipped his helmet, tucked it under his arm and made his way over to me, easily bypassing the rest of the audience who’d flooded the pitch. I felt my heart beat pick up and by the time my best friend reached me, my heart was pounding against my ribs. He was watching me with such intensity, that it made my knees feel weak. His beautiful brown eyes were soft with an emotion that I couldn’t identify, as well as fondness, happiness and determination. I had no idea what to expect when he finally joined me on the stands, but when he tossed his helmet aside, and placed both of his hands on my cheeks, I knew that everything was about to change. And when his lips met mine in a tender, tentative kiss, I threw my arms around his neck and succumbed to it. It was meant to be, and I was powerless to fight the passion, and the intensity that moved between us. But more importantly, I didn’t want to.

Third Person POV

Daisy Hank didn’t know what to think when she attended her second day of school. It seemed that there was a buzz in the air from the moment she walked through the doors, as if something had happened and everyone was talking about it. She felt a nervous knot form in her stomach, worried that it was somehow about her, but after a few deep breaths and reassurances it dissipated. There was no way it could be about her; she’d only started yesterday and she hadn’t spoken to anyone for long enough for her to accidentally reveal anything embarrassing.

She frowned and walked to her locker, trying to focus her hearing to pick up what was going on from the group of girls that were gossiping next to her locker. She opened it up and pretended to search for something as she managed to get close enough to listen in.

‘Is it true? Peter and Y/N are actually together?’ one of the girls murmured, Daisy didn’t know any of their names, but she could easily hear the disappointment in her voice.

‘Yup, apparently it happened last night at the lacrosse game. He scored the winning game and ran on the stands to kiss her.’ This girl sounded dreamy, and Daisy felt herself instinctively relax a little at the absence of aggression in her tone.

‘It was like a Cinderella Story. So romantic.’ The third girl mirrored the second’s tone and even sighed.

‘So unfair. Kavinsky is the most attractive guy at this school, now what—‘ the first girls bitterness was cut off by an elbow to her abdomen.

Daisy frowned, until she followed their gaze and saw the aforementioned couple walking down the hall. They were in the same position as yesterday; her arm around his waist, his over her shoulders and her face tucked against his chest. And yet, there was a definite change between them, Daisy noticed. Maybe it was because Y/N was wearing a hoodie that was obviously his, or because he now had her backpack slung over his shoulder along with his own, or maybe it was the soft, fond and loving way they looked at each other. But either way, a change was definitely there, and Daisy once again found herself wishing that she had someone who looked at her the way they were observing each other, just like she had yesterday when she’d first laid eyes on them. Except now, she only wanted it more, because unlike yesterday the love and affection they had for each other was radiating from them without restriction. It was as beautiful as it was mesmerising and Daisy released a dreamy sigh of her own as she slammed her locker shut at the sound of the school bell. As she made her way to English, she hoped one day, she would find someone who loved her like that.

#peter kavinsky #peter kavinsky x reader #peter kavinsky x you #to all the boys I've loved before #to all the boys I've loved 2 #noah centenio

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travellingarmy · 4 years ago

Text

║Kaeya║Diluc's Cousin 2

Continuation.

Part one!

Word count: 2.7k

---

"Master, your parents sent a letter demanding that you return to Fontaine," Ronan says, hand over his heart and bowing slightly as he gives you the news. You ignored him and stare out the window, sipping coffee that was freshly brewed and delivered directly to your room. It was pouring thus couldn't go to meet Kaeya.

You were in deep thought. It truly has been a long time since you departed in secret to Mondstadt and you knew that if you don't go home, your parents will send a person or two to bring you home. They weren't overbearing parents, no- they are just worried about your safety since you have been out of their sight for about two months now.

Setting the cup down, you turned to look at Ronan, who was urging you to follow the order with his eyes. "Alright," you sighed, "Send word to my parents that I'll return within a week. No more, no less. You know that I keep my words." Ronan nods, and seeing as you had a serious look, he trusts that you'll do as you had just said and excuses himself to go write the letter.

You turn away from the door to the wet landscape outside. You only had a week left with Kaeya and you were determined to spend every second of it with him.

"Kaeya!" You waved eagerly at the Cavalry Captain, gaining his attention by the loud yet enthusiastic call of his name. "(Y/N), good morning. It was a shame that yesterday was pouring," he said, a smile on his face. "Give me a moment and I'll be with you." You nod and see him walk to a knight and talked to them in a serious and ordering tone before going back to you. "Alright, I'm all yours for today."

You smiled at his words. It was just the two of you today, without your butler, Ronan, as you had ordered him to stay at Diluc's mansion. You wanted to spend the remaining days with Kaeya alone before returning home. "You know, I haven't met your cousin yet; I'm starting to think you don't have a cousin in Mondstadt," Kaeya said, strolling beside you.

"You don't believe me? Well, that's understandable since he is busy- both during the day and night," you said, "But, believe me, I do have a cousin and he is working at a tavern."

"Oh? At a tavern? That's interesting," Kaeya said. The day was fill with fun- eating, strolling both inside and outside of the city, hearing bards sing, and more eating. Kaeya is surprised that you could take so much food in and had asked if you were from Liyue instead, considering their iron stomachs.

The blue sky started to change to a mix of orange, yellow, and red as the sun started to set behind the cathedral of Mondstadt. That's when you realized that you had forgotten to tell Kaeya something important. "Um, Kaeya, thank you for guiding me around Mondstadt through my time here," you started off, getting the blue-haired male a quizzical stare at you. When he didn't say anything, you took it as to continue. "I'm returning to Fontaine by the end of this week."

There was silence on the receiving end of the conversation as darkness cast over at Kaeya's eyes. He had known that you won't be staying forever, but he didn't think it would be this month that you were leaving. I mean, there was probably still chaos that you wanted to get away from as he had calculated that the traveller- who is always causing something- had probably not yet reached the hydro region to fix it.

"I see."

You started to worry if he was unhappy but when he turned his head to the to stare at you, he was smiling. "Well, then, we should spend this week together as much, no?" He half-heartedly and forcibly laughs. You forced yourself to lightly chuckles as well, feeling already sad that you had to depart from your friend.

When you returned to Diluc's place, you find him sitting on a sofa in the living room, reading a book as he drinks his grape juice. "Diluc!" You came from behind and leaned over the sofa, wrapping your arms lazily around his neck. "I heard that you're leaving this week from your butler," he said, setting down his drink. "Mhm, so, will you spend at least a day with me?" You stare at his side profile.

"I'll set aside time in the morning tomorrow," he said. A smile appeared on your lips and you were beaming with excitement. You did spend time with Diluc throughout the month and something weeks but it wasn't as often which made you a bit sad. But, when he says he is free, you would take the opportunity to hang out with him. "You better keep your word," you said. Diluc knows how serious you are about keeping promises and so was he. He nods slightly before telling you to rest up otherwise you two won't have time to hang out tomorrow morning.

When the sun's light started to peek through the little gaps between the curtains, you were already up and ready to go. Diluc, on the other hand, was still asleep and you had to pull him out of bed. "(Y/N), it's barely six in the morning.."

"Hey, you said that we're going to hang out all morning and I'm not wasting a single second!" You tug on your cousin's arm. After a few more minutes, the fiery-haired male finally got up, telling you to leave the room as he changes his clothes.

You two skipped breakfast at home to eat breakfast outside, on your wishes, of course. You two strolled around and bought some things that caught your eyes for you to take home to Fontaine. "(Y/N), you don't need that," Diluc said for the nth time at another souvenir you had found that was sitting perfectly in the middle of Marjorie's store. "But, Diluc, I want to remember all the things in Mondstadt!" you said.

"You can always come back to visit Mondstadt," he states. "Yeah, in a couple of years.." you mumbled, pouting as he drags you away from the window. "As long as you can visit again and not be locked up inside some tower, you'll be fine with just a couple of souvenirs," Diluc said. You were a bit careless with mora and that's something Diluc caught up on when reading your letters sent from Fontaine and wanted you to stop spending so much of your father's money.

You didn't hide your sulking expression that Diluc would take time to figure it out. In the distance, to the direction you two were walking, Flora was at her usual spot, selling flowers to those who passed by. He thought it would be better to buy something meaningful like a flower bloomed only in Mondstadt rather than souvenirs of artifacts that can be found across Teyvat. He drags you by the hand to Flora's stall. "Hello there, mister. Do you care to buy a flower for the lovely person beside you?" the little girl asks with her usual, happy smile.

"Yes. Do you have a flower especially from Mondstadt?" he asks. Flora nods. "I have cecilia flowers which can only be found in Mondstadt's Starsnatch Cliff; a perfect flower to represent Mondstadt for travellers that comes from another part of Teyvat," she answers enthusiastically. Diluc agrees to buy a flower and hands it to you, who was busy looking at food from a far away stall.

"(Y/N)." You turn your attention to Diluc who held a single cecilia flower. "Instead of artifacts, why not have a flower?" A small smile appears on his face, a genuine one at that. You stare at the flower in his hands and returned him a smile of your own. "Aw, you should smile more often," you said and pulled on his face, stretching it to make his smile bigger, although at this point he's smile is that of a forced one and he looked annoyed more than anything.

You giggled and let go of his now reddened cheeks before accepting the flower. "I should be going now," Diluc suddenly says, "I'll see you at home; you better be home by then, understand?" You chuckled but nodded at his commanding voice before shoeing him away.

The morning was enjoyable on your part, but what about the Cavalry Captain who stood just a few feet behind you? A shadow loomed over him as he had just seen the intimate gestures you and Diluc had with a smile on your face he had never thought to see for another person. When did you two ever meet up, he asked himself. It was probably when he wasn't around.

He was about to greet you when a familiar red-head entered his line of sight with cecilia in hand, giving it to you with a smile that he had thought that was long gone.

Kaeya had to find out so he put on a perfected, fake smile that was scarier than any other smiles a person could see in a lifetime. "(Y/N)!" He calls out, getting your attention away from Diluc's disappearing figure and to him.

A smile tugged on your face when you see who had just called you. "Kaeya, I was about to go look for you!" you said as he walks closer to you. "Oh, really?" he asks, knowing that you had just parted away from someone else not too long ago. You nodded, not knowing the hidden venom in his tone. Kaeya was most ticked off when you nodded but then see the cecilia. "Oh? Did someone buy you that?" he asked innocently as if he hadn't just seen Diluc give you the flower.

"Yeah, how did you know?" you ask in pure surprise and awe. "Lucky guess," he lied, "So, care to tell me who bought you this?" His eyes were cold and you were completely unaware.

Your eyes softened and smile gently when you thought of who everyone thought of as cold giving you a flower. "Someone dear to me," you answered. Kaeya felt something foreign well up in his chest. It felt as if it was squeezing his heart to pieces. How could Diluc be someone already so dear to you when you had just arrived in Mondstadt. He wanted to ask, believe me, but he had to hold himself from asking since your love life wasn't something he should be concerned with and reminded himself that you'll leave the city soon enough so there couldn't possibly be something between you and himself.

You pulled him along and enjoyed the rest of the day. When the sky was dark enough to see the stars and moon, it was time to part for the day. You part ways with him at the fountain in the center of the city, but instead of going back home, Kaeya followed you in secret.

He had followed you to Angel's Share- where Diluc was at- and watched as you entered the busy tavern. It was clear to him that something was up between the two of you so he stayed, hidden around the corner of a building that had a perfect view of the door to the tavern. It took hours of just standing there until you had left the tavern with Diluc, chatting something amongst you two and laughing about it. Then, Kaeya notices that you had your arm wrapped around his as you both headed out of the city's walls.

The next day, Kaeya had watched you intensely, waiting for something to happen. You caught on but didn't want to say anything about it to only feel awkward later. Slowly, you reached your arms out to an item that the stall you two were at had to offer. "(Y/N), mind if I ask you something?" he asked in a tone that made your skin jump. "A-ah, sure. What is it?" You were honestly afraid and worried about what he was going to ask since he was practically emitting his cryo vision around him.

"I had been wondering, do you perhaps stay somewhere outside of the city? I always see you leaving the gate when we part," he said, lying about the part that he always sees you leaving; he just found out yesterday when he saw you with Diluc.

"Ah, yes, I am. Is there something wrong about it?" you answered honestly. It was about it that Kaeya could stop himself from asking as he part his lips to utter the words he'd been dying to say. "(Y/N)?" A voice that both knew all too perfectly well caught the attention of both of them. Diluc.

"Diluc!" you eagerly call. Diluc looks to Kaeya who stood behind you, his eyes narrowed at the sight of Kaeya. "Kaeya, what are you doing here?" he asks in a dark, almost growling, tone. "You know Kaeya, Diluc?" you asked, surprised that neither told you of the other.

"You could say that," Kaeya asks, a smirk growing on his lips. It was time for his answer to be revealed. "So, (Y/N), who--.." You caught Kaeya off with full of excitement. "Wow, this is perfect then!" you say. "Kaeya, this is my cousin, Diluc! See, I didn't lie when I said I have a cousin in Mondstadt."

Kaeya's shadowy gaze lighten up as he heard the words leave from your very own mouth. "Cousins..?" he repeats, processing the familiar word in his mind. "Mhm, that's right."

Kaeya's heart lightened up and felt kind of ashamed that he didn't think of another possibility to your relationship with Diluc even though you said that the only other person you knew here was your cousin thus wouldn't be out with anybody else.

"Safe travels, (Y/N)," Diluc says warmly. "Thank you for your hospitality," you thanked with a smile. Then, you realized you had forgotten to do one last thing. "Oh, right! I still need to say goodbye to Kaeya!" you said out loud. "Well, I'll be going to the city before I go back. Make sure to read the letters I send and to write back, okay?" Diluc nods and see you out.

"Ronan, let me visit Kaeya before going to Fontaine," you said. Ronan complies to your wishes since it was the day of the departure after all.

When you entered within the city's wall, your eyes immediately started to look for Kaeya. After a while, you still couldn't find him and thought that he was out on a mission. It saddens you but you decided to wait until he comes back since you'd hate it if the person you know leaves without a goodbye.

A few more hours passes by and you lit up when you see Kaeya entering the city. "Kaeya!" Kaeya turns to you, surprised that you were still loitering around when you should be leaving.

"(Y/N), what are you still doing in Mondstadt? I thought you left.." his words trailing to a whisper on the second half. He was happy that you were still around and knew why you haven't departed yet.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him closer, leaning your head against his chest. Kaeya's face reddened at the sudden action. "(Y-Y/N), you.." The Cavalry Captain couldn't think of anything to say as he was still busy being flustered at the hug. You smiled and took this chance to kiss his cheeks and moved away from him to take a better look.

"I- Why did you kiss me?" He was getting redder by the second as he placed his hand on the cheek you had kissed. "It's the way the people of Fontaine bids farewell," you said with a cheeky smile. Kaeya regains his calm exterior, but his heart was still pounding rapidly in his chest. "I'll be writing to you when I arrive at Fontaine so you better write back, okay?" He smiles and nods, bidding you farewell.

It was the first visit in a while and the first encounter with him. But, you both clearly could tell that something could be developed between the two of you and maybe in your next visit, either will take action for it.

---

#kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin impact #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya oneshots #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin x gender neutral reader #gender neutral

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soulmate-game · 5 years ago

Text

Part 1

After the Discovery, things didn’t change as much as everyone thought they might. “Everyone” being just Marinette, of course.

She got a lecture from Lois about worrying her, and then a joke from the older woman about no longer having another non-hero in the house to team up with.

“Wait, Dad,” Jon spoke up after that comment from his mom, bobbing up and down on his heels. Both him and Clark had long since changed out of their costumes, which didn’t take long considering both of them having super speed. “Does this mean Mari can meet Damian? And is she going to join a hero team—“

“I already have a team, Jon,” Marinette interrupted, soft but firm at the same time. Two months was more than long enough to know that Jon could talk forever if he was allowed to. “Chat Noir, Viperion, Bunnyx, and Ryuuko are all Miraculous users like me,” she had already sat down and explained the bare basics of her abilities and the Paris situation. Lois had known better than to scold her, no matter how gentle the scolding was, before Marinette had a chance to say anything.

Clark blinked, looking between both of his kids. And yes, Marinette was well and truly one of his kids already. He couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. “She can meet Damian when school starts back up again, Jon. We don’t want to rush anything,” he started out by telling his son. Marinette was still very jittery. Two months was nowhere near enough time to recover from the trauma of watching your parents die, after all.

(In fact, Clark thought, for some people not even a lifetime was long enough. Batman briefly came to mind as an example.)

The girl still had nightmares almost daily, and panic attacks that resulted in brief spans of mutism at least once a week. Those, at least, had severely decreased in frequency, but it was clear that she was far from ready to meet very many new people. Especially people like Damian Wayne, who was hard enough for someone in perfect mental health to handle even on a good day.

“And Marinette,” Clark switched over to his pseudo-daughter. “If you have that many teammates, surely they would understand that you need a break,” when Marinette didn’t meet his eyes, Clark felt dread build up in his stomach. “Marinette, they know about your parents, right?”

The girl fidgeted. Clark closed his eyes.

“Nobody knows my identity,” She admitted after a tense silence. “I know everyone else’s, even though I only found out Chat’s by accident. But they don’t know mine, and I can’t ask them to give me time off anyway.”

“Why not, honey?” Lois asked as gently as she could, picking up on the beginning signs of Marinette closing herself off. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything any of them could do to stop it. Marinette refused to meet any of their eyes, and even before she spoke her new family knew that they wouldn’t get anything else meaningful out of her about the Paris situation, at least for the day.

“They need me.”

Clark and Jon traded a look. That statement felt a bit too familiar for them. It was something they heard from a lot of heroes who tried to justify overworking themselves. It was something both of them had said before.

But they let the topic rest for the night. Pushing Marinette wouldn’t do any good for anybody.

—*—*—*—*—*

A week passed. Lois and Clark were sitting on the couch watching TV when Lois caught her husband’s eyes darting up to the ceiling. Sighing, she turned the volume down a few notches.

“Did she leave for Paris again?” She asked even though she already knew the answer. Clark nodded grimly.

“Yesterday she didn’t get back in until almost four in the morning,” he admitted, running a hand over his face. “And now, it’s already eleven and she’s just now heading out. I know she doesn’t want me or Jon going to Paris because of Hawkmoth’s magic, but…” he trailed off with his mouth set in a deep frown. Lois could only sigh and lean against his arm comfortingly.

“I know,” she breathed quietly.

“She can’t keep working herself to the bone like this, Lois. Sometimes she’ll head right over to Paris after a nightmare, like she needs to remind herself of something, but she always comes back in less than an hour in that case. But this— when she leaves to fight HawkMoth or patrol Paris before ever going to sleep in the first place— it’s like she’s trying to avoid the nightmares by overworking herself too much to even dream.”

“I know,” Lois rubbed a hand on Clark’s back in gentle circles.

“It reminds me of Batman sometimes,” Clark said, his voice filled with uncharacteristic defeat. “Marinette doesn’t get violent like Bruce, but… never sleeping, throwing herself into heroism, she even refers to Ladybug as if they are different people, Lois. I can’t always help Bruce since he’s a grown adult and more than capable of shutting me out when he wants to, but Marinette is our kid now. I’m just not sure how to help her.”

Lois took a deep breath. “Well, she’s not Bruce so you can’t just bait her into a spar to sort out her feelings,” she mused with faint humor. “But how about we start with sending Jon to Paris the next time you guys hear her leave? The sooner we figure out exactly what the situation and her relationship with her team is like, then maybe the sooner we can find some answers.”

Clark nodded, and looked back up to the ceiling. “I know you heard that, Jon. Don’t get in the way, and come back if Marinette finds you and tells you to. We don’t want her to think we don’t trust her.”

A beat passed, and Clark rolled his eyes fondly.

“Don’t forget to go to bed as soon as she gets back, Jon. I don’t want to deal with two overly exhausted children.”

A thump.

“I’m sixteen!” Jon yelled back, clearly for Lois’s benefit as his mom let out a short burst of laughter.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Ladybug!”

“Look, it’s Ladybug!” “Woo! Go ladybug!” “Could you beat this guy extra fast, Ladybug? I’m late for a meeting!”

People in the streets were shouting in French happily, pointing up at their resident spotted heroine. Some people groused at her in mild or fond annoyance, asking her to beat the Akuma-of-the-day a bit faster for various reasons or jokingly calling her a slow poke. Most people just got pictures or videos on their phones of her as best as they could, watching her swing by in awe and admiration.

It was familiar. Too, too familiar, and Jon made sure to get it all on camera. His parents would want to see this. The pair of contacts he was wearing, a gift from Red Robin, translated everything that was being said for him into helpful little English subtitles.

And there was his sister. Marinette had been tough to pin down, and this was Jon’s third time trying to follow her in Paris. The first time, the day after that late night discussion between his parents, ended in less than five minutes. Marinette caught him and sent him home firmly, which was followed by a heart-to-heart with all four of them when she got home.

She still refused to tell them anything more than the basics about Paris’s situation. For some reason, she seemed extremely reluctant to talk about it. She had no problem comparing experiences and hero jokes with him and his dad, but the moment they tried to talk about Paris-specifics, Marinette clammed up.

It was the second of Jon’s attempts to follow Marinette, just a week after the first, that brought up a possible reason. Because Jon had watched a civilian that he hadn’t been able to get to in time get pinned under a thrown car and killed—only for Ladybug’s powers to reverse all the damage and bring the man back to life.

Jon had raced back home right after that, not even giving Marinette the chance to see him. After relaying what had happened to his parents, they all agreed to one last tail. The pieces were already falling together, and none of them liked the picture they were painting. They wanted to confront Marinette as soon as possible. So here he was, another week later.

Jon kept recording throughout the fight, watching as Marinette clearly led her team. There was no mistaking that all her teammates respected her and treated her word as law. Even Chat Noir, who was Ladybug’s deputy, always referred to Ladybug’s opinion before issuing any orders. Civilians didn’t always flee the scene, taking their time as they tried to record the fight. And when the Akuma was beaten and only Ladybug made a move to catch the corrupted butterfly, the final pieces clicked into place. Jon managed to stay still long enough to catch the crowd of fans running forward, trying to mob Ladybug with pleas for autographs or statements or interviews, before he left. Ladybug’s team had acted as a buffer between her and the crowd anyway, so Jon was able to leave with a clear conscience.

When he walked into his house, already changed back into normal clothes, he waved his phone with a serious look on his face as both his parents waited anxiously.

“Yeah. This is pretty bad,” Jon warned them as he hooked his phone up to his laptop, and played the footage for them.

—*—*—*—*—*

When Marinette got home, it was to a clear intervention. Nervously detransforming, she looked to Tikki and back to her new family. The Kwami, who had previously just been explained away as the source of her powers, gently nudged the girl forward. She knew her holder needed this.

Clark and Lois gently explained why they asked Jon to follow her, explaining that they were all concerned about how badly she was overworking herself.

“You’re getting only three hours of sleep, and that’s on the days that you wake up with nightmares,” Clark’s

voice was quiet, begging her to listen. “Every other day, you teleport to what I can only hope is Paris every time, and you don’t come back for hours. Even if you spend that whole time fighting Akumas, you still only get an hour’s worth of sleep maximum when you get back. Sometimes you don’t even sleep at all until you collapse of exhaustion,” he leaned forward over the table, worry etched in every line on his face. “Marinette, we’re worried. We wanted Jon to see what the situation in Paris was like, because we thought that maybe it would explain why you seem to care about it more than your health. We didn’t know if it was just you needing to keep busy, or something else.”

“And you’re gone during the day too,” Lois added. “And we get that. HawkMoth attacks whenever he feels like, and we all understand if you have to disappear at odd times to fight his Akumas. But this is more than that, isn’t it?”

Marinette’s hands were clenched into fists, and tears were starting to bubble up in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. Jon slowly approached her, waiting for her small nod before laying one of his larger hands over her fists and gently prying them open before she hurt herself. He kept his hands there, holding hers for both of their comfort.

“I took a video, today,” he admitted gently. “Dad already erased it from the laptop and my phone, don’t worry. But they— we all— needed to see it. The way Paris treats you, Marinette—“

“It’s like how Metropolis used to treat Superman. How they sometimes still do,” Lois interrupted, trying to get Marinette to meet her eyes. “We all thought that Superman showing up was the end of our problems. That as soon as he showed up, the villain or criminal or whatever that was causing us problems was done for. That he could save everyone,” Lois’s eyes grew melancholy. “But we had to learn the hard way that he’s not invincible, no matter how much he might seem like he is. We had to learn the hard way that nobody, no matter how strong or how many powers they have, can save everyone. The kind of trust we had in him before is toxic, Marinette. It’s toxic to us, because we stop being as careful as we should be if we think he’s always going to catch us. And it’s toxic to him, too.”

“How?” Marinette asked, her voice impossibly tiny and her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she darted her eyes between them. “They need someone to believe in. They— I make them feel safe. I— isn’t that good?”

“You feel like it’s your job to be there no matter what, right?” Clark asked, meeting her gaze with a warm, but firm one of his own. “That you have to do whatever it takes to win every battle, no matter what it costs you, because they believe you will. You start feeling like everyone you don’t save is your fault. And that’s not okay,” he stood up and Jon slowly backed away, allowing their father to kneel by Marinette and clasp one of her shoulders. “It always hurts. You might never forget the faces of the people you can’t save, but it isn’t your fault. You told me and Jon that you don’t blame us for what happened to your parents, that it’s stupid to blame the hero for something that wouldn’t have happened if the villain didn’t attack in the first place,” his grip tightened slightly, trying to offer comfort when Marinette tended at the mention of her parents. “If you don’t blame us, even though we were the ones in costume and fighting that day, then you need to stop blaming yourself too.”

The tears finally overflowed, salty water trickling down Marinette’s cheeks and sloppy sobs ripping themselves from her throat even as she threw herself into Clark’s chest. He hugged her tightly, letting her cry.

“B-b-But,” Marinette stuttered in between hiccuping sobs. “My powers reverse damage, m-my powers bring people back,” she sniffed, burying her face deeper into Clark’s chest. “I wanted t-to help. I-I was. S-s-So close to tr-transforming and fighting with y-you, but I didn’t. I d-didn’t, so I c-couldn’t bring them b-back. I should have been tr-transformed, th-that way they would be—“

“Shh,” Clark whispered gently, rocking her in his arms. “It’s not your fault. Metropolis wasn’t your city. You were protecting your identity, and that was the right choice.”

“But—!”

“No, Marinette,” Clark interrupted, holding her just a little tighter as she continued to tremble and sob. “If you had transformed, someone would have figured it out. A French class comes to Metropolis, and one of their students mysteriously disappears at the same time that a French hero shows up in America for the first time? Maybe you could have brought them back, but none of you would have been safe. Our villains, the villains of Metropolis, of the League, they would have suddenly known about you and might have researched Paris. Maybe HawkMoth would have gained a new ally, or maybe a villain would attack you just because you’re a new hero to target,” Clark sighed, rubbing his hand gently over Marinette’s back as her sobs quieted into a few hiccups and sniffles. She was listening. That was a good sign. “So yes, maybe you would have been able to save them that once, but you could also have opened up a new can of worms that you might not have been able to handle. Things could have gotten worse, and Jon and I wouldn’t have even known to help you. You would have continued to shoulder everything on your own, but you don’t have to. You did your best, and your parent’s deaths aren’t your fault. And you have Jon and I now, and your team even if they don’t know who you are. You can rely on us a little. If you keep going on like this, though, you’re going to kill yourself Marinette,” this time his grip tightened for a whole different reason and Clark buried his face in Marinette’s loose hair. Even after only almost three months, the thought of losing her made him breathless. She was his daughter, even if not by blood, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting herself like this.

“Please, Mari,” That was Jon, who had knelt down by their side and joined the hug. “Let us help you. I promise we’re not incompetent heroes.”

Marinette’s laugh was watery, and hysteric. She accepted a tissue from Lois, who was suddenly sitting down only a foot away from the three’s group hug. After a good nose-blow, Marinette took a deep breath.

“Maybe now’s a good time to give them a proper explanation, Marinette,” Tikki said as she floated down to land on her wielder’s head, giving her the best hug she could. Marinette gave another wet chuckle.

“Yeah, I agree,” she took a deep breath. “But it’s a long story.”

“Not a problem,” Lois assured the girl as she forced herself up and stretched her arms out. “I’ll get the extra pillows and blankets. We can relax on the floor and have story time, and then binge watch movies and have a sleepover in the living room. Clark, could you be a dear and move the couch out of the way?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You have a rule against killing, dear,” Lois whispered groggily from where she was laying against Clark’s side. Marinette was sprawled in between him and Jon, safely in their cuddle-cocoon. Both of their kids were deep asleep. Clark grunted.

“Yeah, but he put so much responsibility on kids, Lo. Kids,” he whispered back, turning his head to try and lessen the chance of waking up Jon. “And he didn’t offer them any support for almost a year, made them figure out the whole hero thing and their powers on their own,” the clearing of a tiny throat made Clark stifle a snort. “With their Kwami,” he whispered, quietly appeasing the eavesdropping Tikki who was laying on Marinette’s chest pretending to sleep. “But a god isn’t exactly a replacement for an actual hero mentor, you know,” he shot at her, making the tiny goddess shrug in acquiescence. “And making her Guardian— he basically threw all his responsibilities onto kids, and ran away. And now Marinette has to heal from all the unrealistic expectations she gave herself. So forgive me if I’m entertaining a few more violent daydreams than usual.”

Lois patted his arm and kissed his cheek. “I’m sure they will be just as violent and gratifying to imagine in the morning. Go to sleep, Smallville.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was another two and a half weeks before Marinette met Damian Wayne for the first time. She looked from the fellow teenager in a perfectly-pressed uniform and then over to her brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Does he fly in on a helicopter every day?” She asked him incredulously, making Jon grin and nod. She looked back over at Damian, who was clearly annoyed at her for speaking about him when he was right there. “I will never understand rich people.”

Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And I will never understand simpletons. Kent, who is your friend?” He practically spat the last word, making the inner bully-detector in Marinette go off. Her interactions with Chloe and Lila kicked in, and sparked her old habits. Marinette flashed a bright smile, stepping in front of Jon before he could say a word and holding out her hand to Damian. Clark, who was talking to Bruce nearby, out his hand over his mouth to hide a snort. Bruce raised his eyebrows, paying close attention to the interaction now.

“Hi! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Clark and Lois took me in a few months ago, and they said I’m already family. That means that I’m Jon’s sister now, which means that it’s my job to keep him away from bad influences. My hobbies include annoying bullies and not being a welcome mat. How are you?”

Damian blinked once. Twice, and then took her hand and shook it firmly even as a smirk spread itself over his lips.

“Damian Wayne,” he replied easily. “And I apologize for assuming you were a simpleton. I think we can tolerate each other just fine.”

As Marinette and Damian kept trading sarcastic quips with one another that got steadily less passive-aggressive as time went on (with Jon watching in dismay as somehow Marinette seemed to get along? With Damian? And they were scheming? This couldn’t end well.), Clark and Bruce watched the kids walk into their school building.

A moment of silence stretched, before Bruce finally caved and asked; “Took her in?”

Clark grinned slightly, knowing Bruce never would have been able to resist sating his curiosity over the new girl in his care.

“Lois and I practically adopted her. Technically her paternal grandmother has custody and only gave her to us to take care of while she recovers from her grief in a different country, but that’s only because trying to adopt her without being French citizens would have been almost impossible.”

“Grief?” Bruce’s eyebrows pulled down, and Clark’s smile grew somber.

“Remember the attack in late May, back in Metropolis? The one that actually had the first fatalities in months?” Bruce’s face went slack in realization, followed closely by his eyes snapping to the school’s doors. Clark nodded. “Looks like your penchant for adopting black-haired, blue-eyed orphans is contagious. She was scraping the skin off her hands and giving herself burns trying to dig them out of the rubble. When Jon and I realized that they were both of her parents, I had Lois look into her to make sure she had family to take care of her,” Clark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The options were a grandmother who never stops traveling or a great uncle she barely knows who only speaks Mandarin when she doesn’t. So we pulled a few strings, and now she’s a Kent in all but name.”

“I hope Damian can avoid saying the wrong thing for at least a day before I talk to him later,” Bruce said with a sigh as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “At least she seems to have won his respect pretty quickly.”

Clark laughed. “Oh yeah, she tends to do that. No offense or anything Bruce, but I think it’s a good thing we were the ones that adopted her before you got the chance,” he turned and smiled at his old friend. “You wouldn’t be able to handle Marinette. She’s closer to a Super than a Bat.”

—*—*—*—*—*

@fantasiame @thestressmademedoit @amayakans @resignedcatservant @too0bsessedformyowngood @chocolatecatstheron

Part 3

This. Was. Supposed. To be. Fluffy. Damn it. But oh well, natural story progression calls for more hurt and comfort I guess? Maybe one part left in this story I think.

#marinette joins the kent family #jon kent and marinette #mlb x dc #ml x dc #platonic jonette #daminette #if you squint #pre daminette #Marinette Kent

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taramaclaywasaterf · 3 years ago

Text

Hey guys, I know I said I was taking a break. And I am. I’m not actually, like, back back. I just need to vent, I guess.

For those who don’t know, my grandfather committed suicide. He’d been battling lung and stomach cancer for years, and the pain had gotten so unbearable that I guess he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d been in and out of the hospital for years, and the whole month leading up to his death, he was home maybe 4 nights total, the rest spent in the hospital. My dad found him. We’ve been grieving together. It’s been hard.

My family doesn’t really get along that well. Basically just me and one of my cousins are really close, but that's it. My grandfather was kinda the glue that was keeping everyone together. His death was kind of like the final string that was tying us all together being severed.

I don’t know. The police had to come. It was really really bad. They had to make sure he wasn’t murdered.

I just hope it was quick. I hope he’s with my grandmother now. That she was waiting for him on the other side, wherever that may be. That he’s not in any pain anymore. That he knows I love him so fucking much.

As for me, I just feel…I just feel fucking numb. This happened two days after the anniversary of the death of my best friend, and less than a month after the death of Trevor Moore, a comedian whose sketches made me laugh during the worst times of my childhood and whose sudden death really fucked me up.

I kinda just shut down. I didn’t really cry at all the first day. The second day all I did was cry. After that, its like my body physically stopped letting me feel anything at all. I’m just numb. And tired. And my fucking head hasn’t stopped hurting.

I walked around his house and got some things I wanted. Some old photos. Cards I made him when I was little that he kept all these years. Some love notes my grandmother wrote him when they were young. His favorite hat. I found a photo from his wedding to my grandmother, and its now hanging above my bed. Its crazy how much I look like her. How happy he looked to have her in his arms.

I also brought home his cat. I was terrified he wouldn’t fit in with my two cats and dog. But after a bit of a shaky start, and a lot of hours spent sitting with him trying to get him to trust me, he’s settled in. My grandpa rescued him from a shelter when he was a few years old. He loved my grandfather more than anything. I can tell he’s still mourning him, like we all are. But I like to think we’ve been helping each other get through it. I hope my grandfather knows I have him. That he’s not going anywhere. That he’s safe with me, and he’s happy and warm and loved. He’s curled up on my lap right now as I write this. He’s purring quietly.

I miss him. I wish I told him more that I love him. I wish I spent more time with him. I wish I could’ve at least said goodbye. I’ve been through a lot of grief in my life, and it never fucking gets easier. I wish I could take this feeling out of me leave it somewhere for a while. I wish I could fix things. I wish my dad didn’t have to see what he saw. I wish I could make it better for him. I wish this wasn’t how things were.

As for how I am right now, well, I’m laughing. Hysterically. And crying. A lot. I took a break writing this post because it was getting too hard, so I distracted myself by watching dumb videos on my phone. Until this video of Trevor Moore popped up in my Youtube recommended:

youtube

And now I genuinely can’t fucking stop laughing. Like, holy fucking shit, Trevor. You really had a way of making jokes that are flat out prophetic, huh? Here I’ve been, on the verge of relapse for the past month over how bad your death fucked ME up, and here you are, years ago, calling me out for how completely and utterly ridiculous I am. And the fact that I’m even writing THIS right NOW makes it even worse! Look at me, acting as if you fucking died to make me learn a fucking lesson! As if my own fucking grandfather died to make me appreciate life more! As if my best friend wrapped her goddamn car around a tree just to make me realize how precious fucking friendships are! As if the entire fucking universe revolves around deliberately fucking my life up! Its pathetic! Its fucking tragic and fucked up and absolutely mind-blowingly fucking pathetic! And yet here I am, writing on the fucking internet to you, Trevor, still doing the same fucking thing! And I can't fucking stop laughing, because this is the most Trevor fucking thing I can possibly think of!

Like. I don’t even know what to do anymore, guys. I know I said I’d be taking a break, and I still am. I just needed to get this out. I don’t want to bother my friends with it, they’re worried enough about me as it is right now. They're kinda treating me as if I'm made of glass right now, which I understand, but its still frustrating. I know they just want me to be ok, and just want to keep me from doing anything stupid and fucking up my life again, but still. Being treated like a paper doll at a waterpark is getting tiring. I guess it just speaks to how entirely not-great I'm doing- that even my closest friends aren't making jokes about this shit- they're acting like I'm some fragile fucking child. But yeah.

Again, I know they mean well, and they just really don't want to see me get sucked down into that fucking void again, but I want to be distracted from all the fucked up things in my life. I want to laugh about it, and not be constantly fucking reminded of how bad things are every time I catch them looking at me like I'm some sad little puppy dog they found on the side of the road.

Oh! to top it all off, I got a letter in the mail yesterday. From my mother. Who I haven't spoken to in around a decade, because she was an abusive addict who made my childhood hell. She wants to have fucking coffee and "catch up." Jesus fucking christ, why now. Seriously. Why fucking now? Nothings been released publicly about my grandfather yet- the only people who know about it is immediate family, and everyone on my dad's side of the family fucking hates my mom almost as much as I do, so there is no way in hell anyone told her about it. So this is just a total coincidence. A giant fucking cosmic "fuck you." (Oh, look, there I go again thinking my existence is meaningful enough to the entire enormity of the universe that it would target me specifically to fuck with! Jesus fucking christ!) Like, I swear to god this fucking woman has some sort of alarm in her brain that says "oh hey, my daughter is at one of the the lowest points in her life?? Time to drop on by and say hello!!!!"

Just...I don't even know. Fuck. I don't know how the fuck I'm gonna get through all this shit, yall.

Well. Anyway. Thats it for now.

Find Kony 2012, I guess.

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 4 years ago

Photo

A lovely person prompted me with not much more than the word “cooking”. You know how it is, it can get spicy in the kitchen... (2897 words, rating somewhere between M and E, I guess, see for yourself...)

Read “Take hold of the flame” (yes, BG lyrics, again) under the cut or on AO3.

The bed was significantly smaller than what he was used to. So it was hardly surprising that when Emhyr awoke, he found himself lying half on top of Geralt. A whole bundle of white hair tickled his nose. Oddly enough, it smelled faintly of hay. Horse stable, he thought, amused. Apart from that, it just smelled like Geralt, an indefinable, somehow spicy (irresistible) scent. Not quite tangible, not quite real. Like the whole man, actually, which was exactly why he loved him.

Emhyr noticed that his right leg was resting rather uncomfortably on Geralt's hip, somehow entangled with him. Still, although he had pinned him somewhat down with his body in sleep and he was buried in his pillows, Geralt just slept on peacefully. Amazing, how this man could sleep in the most inconvenient positions. As if it was precisely Emhyrs weight that he needed to be comfortable. That wasn't true; he knew that – Geralt was just used to taking advantage of any sleep he could get, even if he had to do so sitting up. Still, Emhyr liked the thought that his husband would sleep better beside him. He did, that was for sure.

That wasn't why he found himself in this ridiculously narrow bed (which Geralt claimed was a perfectly standard size for two people). At least it wasn't the only reason. The fact that they were now married did not mean that they were free of their obligations, and they both seemed to cling to them with unusual stubbornness. So it happened that they didn't see much of each other, especially when Geralt was away on a contract for almost two weeks, as he had been recently, and eventually stopped off at Corvo Bianco to check up on things. But for this case, they had an agreement, as silly as it was touching at the same time. They called it a kind of hiatus, and there was only one person in the palace who was in on it – the court sorceress, and she was necessary to make it work at all.

In this way, Emhyr occasionally spent a night in Touissaint (without his troublesome cousin knowing). Although they usually didn't stray far from the house (the bed), starry nights under Touissaint's sky were always the closest thing to a honeymoon. Now it was morning, and in a few hours, he would be picked up again just as discreetly as he had come here. Carefully, Emhyr tried to untie their entwined legs. Getting out of the tangled hair was much harder; he liked the smell and how savage Geralt looked when the unkempt mane fell over his shoulders. With that hair and all the scars on his body, he was a unique, wonderful sight that Emhyr could never get enough of. Even when he realized, as he did now, that the only reason he saw so much of it was that he had snatched the entire blanket during the night. However, he had warmed Geralt for it with his body, which was probably somehow a compensation.

The golden eyes opened just as Emhyr lifted his head.

"Fuck," was the first thing Geralt said, his voice still hinting sleep.

If there was a way to show amusement only by lifting the eyebrows, Emhyr had mastered it.

"If that is really the first thing you want to do?"

"Not funny," returned his witcher, growling. "You filled me up with your wine last night. I'm having a hangover. Who brings wine to Touissaint anyway?"

"One fine day, maybe this dead vineyard of yours will bear fruit, and then you can retaliate. Besides, you can't actually get a hangover."

"I can get a headache."

"That's gone in a couple of minutes."

"You're heartless," Geralt muttered from somewhere under his tangle of hair. "What time is it? Are you leaving already?"

"No, we still have some time."

Emhyr bent down, wiped some stubborn hair from Geralt's face, and kissed him gently. He still tasted of wine, and they both had to rinse their mouths, but he couldn't help touching those lips with his first thing in the morning. He always earned a smile, as if the sun rose twice. Geralt just lay there, looking at him, regarding him with that mixture of wonder and admiration that hadn't left him in a long time. The wedding hadn't changed that; perhaps it had only intensified the amazement in particular.

"We could still have breakfast together," he suggested. "Although... I told Marlene not to drop by until around noon."

"I suppose you had a slightly different breakfast in mind?"

Geralt grinned, but his traitorous stomach decided to use that very moment to growl.

"That can wait if you want to satisfy another hunger first," he said at Emhyr's skeptical look, grabbing his neck to get another kiss.

But to his surprise, Emhyr replied, "You know, we could actually have breakfast together. We're usually never alone when we do that. I could cook something. It would be peaceful."

Geralt gave him an incredulous look.

"You want to do what?"

Emhyr's lips curled into one of those little cocky smiles.

"You don't believe it? Well, my dear, until my childhood dissolved so rudely into a curse, I did indeed enjoy an excellent upbringing. Strict, but effective. I can in fact do a few small dishes."

Geralt narrowed his eyes, unsure if this was another of Emhyr's strange jokes.

"You want to cook me something," he repeated, without it sounding like a question – more like a not-quite-serious statement.

He should have known better than to challenge Emhyr, of all people.

There was a flash in the latter's eyes. Not only did he love being right, but he also loved each and every one of his little victories over his spouse – each war of words, each stare that he held out longer. So he got up with grace, dressed in no time, and was already halfway out the door when Geralt untangled his hair with his fingers and said in confusion, "You're serious."

Emhyr turned around, the doorknob already in his hand, and replied without any irony, "I'm basically serious about everything. You should know that by now."

Sometime later, Geralt stood in the doorway to the kitchen, wrapped only in the bedspread, still tousled. It was a rare sight: he was completely relaxed, and not just because he was in his own home. Moreover, it was also quite a stimulating sight, but Emhyr was not easily distracted. He had quickly gained an overview of the kitchen, and now he was slicing apples with extreme precision while heating a pan over the fire.

Geralt watched him skeptically as if he still couldn't believe what he was seeing. In fact, he had never seen him like this before: barefoot in a kitchen, modestly dressed in the same black pants and black shirt he had appeared in yesterday. Yes, the shirt was elaborately embroidered with not very modest gold threads, but by Emhyr's standards, he made a very casual impression. He also hadn't combed his hair yet, which was why some of his little black curls were still visible. Emhyr indeed appeared utterly relaxed as well. And that was even rarer than with Geralt, who stood in the door frame and gave him a look that now trulyindicated a completely different hunger.

However, neither the look nor the sight could distract Emhyr. There was a small bowl in front of him, and he cracked some eggs in it. Then he added flour, grabbed a jug, poured milk into the bowl, and stirred the dough carefully. Checking, he opened a couple of jars on a shelf by the wall, smelled them, stuck his finger in one, and licked it. He gave Geralt a quick glance. He was still standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, and his smile had something moonstruck about it. Finally, Emhyr found what he was looking for and added a pinch of salt to the bowl.

"It looks like you know what you're doing," Geralt said, his voice slightly hoarse.

Emhyr shook his head.

"If I had known how stimulating you would find this, I would have done it sooner," he replied, slightly amused, as he added some lard to the pan.

A slight sizzling sounded, and a pleasant smell filled the room. Something was satisfying about this: an immediate, visible result. An actual change for someone who often had to plan his strategies months in advance. Now he added some apple slices to the pan and sprinkled sugar on top. The smell became sweeter, more intense. Emhyr rummaged in some drawers and sniffed at several small jars until he triumphantly held up one of them.

"Cinnamon," he said, sprinkling a tiny amount into the pan before adding some batter.

Geralt didn't care what he poured into it; he simply liked the sight of his husband, who seemed to be wholly absorbed in his current activity. Who would have ever expected the Emperor of Nilfgaard to be able to make pancakes? There was something satisfyingly meditative about how he baked out one after another and lifted them onto a plate.

"You'll have to eat these quickly; there's no oven here," Emhyr remarked.

Geralt didn't answer; he continued to look at him. The warmth of the fire had reddened Emhyr's cheeks. Eventually, the bowl was empty, the plate filled, and Emhyr said, "Make yourself useful and set the table."

Geralt, who seemed to have been waiting only for this announcement, stepped forward, grabbed Emhyr's hand, and replied roughly, "Oh, I'll set the table," and pulled him along, pushing him against the small sideboard. Almost unexpectedly – for himself – Emhyr did not resist; he allowed himself to be pulled, uttering only a feeble, "I thought you wanted to eat."

"I'll eat, don't worry."

"Obscene."

"Maybe, but you'll still like it."

Emhyr did not doubt that, even more so when Geralt began to capture his mouth with a tempestuous kiss that betrayed his passion almost as clearly as his sight – for now, he dropped the blanket he still had wrapped around him, presenting his hard-on.

Emhyr raised a brow in one of his meaningful, typical gestures.

"This is what you get for watching me cook?"

"You have no idea. But don't worry, no one goes hungry in this kitchen."

"No more kitchen jokes," Emhyr groaned while Geralt was already in the process of relieving him of his clothes.

The room was neatly heated up, and the old house with its few windows was rarely cool anyway. However, the fire's proximity was not the only reason why beads of sweat stood on Emhyr's forehead after a short time.

By now, the whole place was a mess - there lay his shirt and trousers, the blanket, and some stuff Geralt had unintentionally thrown off the sideboard, as he had pushed his husband against it. Emhyr couldn't care less, for now, Geralt had gone to his knees, and he did his utmost to make Emhyr raise his arousal to the same level. This was not difficult – as usual, the sight of the witcher was nearly enough. The golden eyes, half-hidden under all the tangled hair, which he could hardly stop himself from reaching into, sparkled when they looked up at him. And his lips were shiny too, moistened by his tongue, which was now already so close. It was part of the game to hold back a little longer, and he put his hands on Emhyr's hips, also to savor the feeling for another moment. But everything about this made it hard to resist – the warmth of the kitchen, Emhyr's very own smell, now mixed with apparent arousal, that surprisingly soft down of pubic hair for such a large and imposing man, now right before Geralt's eyes. He didn't try any longer.

The heat grew stronger, but now it came from within, rising directly from Emhyr's abdomen, moving upward, spiraling up in lustful waves. The feeling enclosed him, like Geralt's mouth, and his fingers clawed into the wood of the furniture behind him, knuckles almost as white as the hair below. The tongue was a pure provocation, just like the looks. A challenge, the attempt to break through Emhyr's composure prematurely, always in vain. After all, he'd been playing this game much longer than Geralt, at least in this way.

It was time to turn the tables. He leaned forward and placed his hand on the back of Geralt's neck, neither gentle nor firm, his fingers performing a sole impression of possessiveness. It was a power that had nothing at all to do with his status, and it was the only one Geralt had followed – ever since he had first decided that there were situations in which he would deliberately kneel before him. He did not do it for the Emperor; he did it solely for the man Emhyr was besides.

With gentle pressure from his fingertips only, this man now ordered him to stand up. He wrapped his arms around that amazingly slender waist, pulling him closer, while at the same time, his eyes were locked on Geralt's, just as it was the other way around. Both locked onto, both lost in each other. Could it get any warmer in the kitchen? Slowly, very slowly, he bent over, seeking the wet lips, but his own taste on them was nearly too much for him.

Almost roughly, he whirled around, his arms still around Geralt, and with amazing strength (and perhaps some encouragement), he lifted him very briefly until Geralt was sitting on the sideboard. More things fell, kitchen utensils, garlic bulbs, a strangely deformed golden spoon.

"We need some...," Geralt began, a little out of breath from both the kiss and the arousal.

"It's a kitchen," Emhyr interrupted him as his hands roamed over Geralt's body.

He gave his fingers just as much time as his lips, for that was his part of their game, and as expected, his spouse responded with impatient little sounds. But Emhyr had already found what he was looking for. A narrow little clay jug contained oil that smelled very slightly of the olives grown in Touissaint. It was not an unusual tool for what he had in mind, though considerably simpler than anything they usually used.

"Someone's gonna need to clean this place up," Geralt commented as Emhyr yanked a bundle of herbs off a hook on the wall while trying to reach for the jar.

"If you want to make sure your housekeeper doesn't find out what happened in her kitchen, you better do that," he countered.

But then, the time for banter was over. A glance without words, a silent agreement they gave each other over and over again, despite all the passion. They smiled at each other in their inimitable way: a broad expression on one side, a mere sparkle in the eyes on the other. The time had come to stop holding back, and all passion channeled into a powerful first thrust, so hard that the back of Geralt's head hit a wall shelf. His suppressed scream might have expressed pain or pleasure at the same time; it didn't matter.

The kitchen was a furnace now, but most of the heat emanated from their bodies, less from the fire behind them. Emhyr's hands, still slippery from the oil, clawed at Geralt's ass, holding him steady while he kept a ruthless pace. All playfulness had fallen from them, and they pursued their lust with a kind of sacred seriousness.

The sweet whiff of the pancakes had long since been covered by a tangy scent of sweat and passion. Unfamiliar sounds filled the place, usually accustomed only to the hissing of frying food or the clinking of dishes. Now, there was the slapping of skin against skin. Lips, that met each other in the middle of a moan. A word, an invitation, a demand for more. Desire, increasing the more it was indulged, became sounds, became touch, until they indeed became one.

The release was like a fire that never loses its spark. And when it came, it came with a sigh and a groan, with laughter silenced by a kiss. After that, they just held each other until their hearts calmed down. When he had regained his speech - even if his voice still sounded a little flat - Emhyr said, "Your food is cold."

Geralt looked at him, a sheepish expression crossing his features.

"I hate apple pancakes," he blurted out.

A raised eyebrow was the maximum amount of astonishment Emhyr allowed himself.

"You eat them all the time. We have them for breakfast several times a week."

"I eat them because you eat them. You seem to like them; you're the one who keeps ordering them. And you seem to like it when I eat them. That's the only reason I keep doing it."

Emhyr hid a small smile that wanted to steal onto his mouth in Geralt's tangled hair and whispered close to his ear, "That' s idiotic."

"I know," Geralt returned.

"I like it," Emhyr said, and only a very, very careful observer would have noticed that his shoulders moved slightly. As if in a tiny laugh, perhaps.

"I know," Geralt repeated.

He did not hide his smile, and the sun rose for the second time that morning. It was going to be a beautiful day.

#fanfiction #Emhyr x Geralt #Geralt x Emhyr #Emhyr/Geralt #Emralt #domestic bliss #somebody's cooking #but nobody's eating

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fandom-blackhole · 4 years ago

Text

Hayloft- Ezra x Reader

AN: hahahahahahah hello.....So I know that have have shit I was supposed to write but life has taken every bit of creativity from me so I’m not sure if I’ll ever actually write those. So I am sorry if you have been waiting forever for me to post a story. I’ve also made the decision to close my requests indefinitely unless I change my mind because I just don’t do well with them, sorry. BUT, I struck gold and got the idea for this fic and before I lost the inspo I wrote like a mad man all yesterday! So I do hope you enjoy! And yes, I did get the idea while listening to Hayloft by Mother Mother

Also this is going to be a two part story, I am currently working on the second part and it should be posted tomorrow morning most likely. And I made a playlist, if you’d like to listen to it (I am open to song suggestions to be added!)

Ao3 Link

Masterlist

Words: 3.1k (this a beast for me lol)

Warnings?: not really, AFAB reader, mentions of a stroke, Ezra’s charm (that needs a warning), bad poetry formatting (sorry tumblr destroyed how I had it in my Doc)

The itchy scratchy feeling of the hay digging through my nightwear was worth every uncomfortable second if it meant I could continue to sit here and listen to the man across from me, with his eyes that held galaxies and voice the carried the lilt of the most wonderful song, with that unplaceable accent. He was worth being tired in the morning from staying up all night up here in the loft of my family’s small barn. He was worth all the sneaking around and small meaningful glances sent each other’s way when no one else was paying attention, the brushing of hands when handing something to the other. I wouldn’t change anything about this unless it meant the small glances or the gentle brushing against each other didn’t have to be hidden from the others, if it meant that I could just be with the hypnotic man across from me with his hair as dark as the freshly tilled ground at the being of a harvest minus that one soft looking patch as white as a newly hatched chick’s down and a smile so crooked and white that it felt almost as if he was casting a spell over my very heart and soul. He was worth the pain of picking hay from my hair and clothes in the morning when I have to sneak back into the farmhouse, while already missing the touch of his rough and calloused but gentle hand. It was all worth every bit as long as he helped me forget everything just for the time being.

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Living on K-5 was rather simple. The planet was neither big nor small and it was known for its fertile soil that could grow just about any plant whether it was native to the world or not and once one harvest season had finished the other started as the weather always was spring-like with perfect growing conditions. Not many came to stay and those who did worked their entire life in planets many fields of harvest. To the few that actually knew the name of the forgettable planet called it the bread box of the known universe. Though the planet was known to very few people throughout space, the planet’s harvests could be found on just about any other planet or moon feeding just about everyone.

The farmers of K-5 were known to have bigger families on the premise of needing hands to work the land for food of their own and for money. The farmers also knew that most of their children would leave the planet and look for better elsewhere, and would hope beyond hope that at least one of their children would settle on the sad planet and continue working their farm. Though if luck would have it there might come a ship every so often with people willing to lend hands and work the land if they were compensated well enough. Most that came were floaters looking for something to do in between prospecting jobs, others were looking for a quiet place to finally settle after a long life.

My father had been one of 12 brothers and he was the only one to stay and take over the meager farmer his father and his father’s father had set up on a small corner of the planet. My father never really talked about his siblings, only ever calling them stupid for leaving the haven that was K-5 for a world they had no place to be in. My mother had been brought here by her mother, who had been a floater. They had made acquaintances with a farmer a town or so over and had lived there as farmhands as that family’s children started dwindling as they left. I have been told that my mother had a fire to her that no other on the planet had, that she was a woman of grace and humility, which is rare in space these days, something I was told I inherited though I’m not so sure I believe. We were a small family, I had two older brothers, twins identical in only their looks. Joshua, a dreamer as my father put it spitefully saying he inherited that from our mother, while his brother Anthony took after our father with his pessimistic view of everything including the world outside of our farm and K-5. I always counted Joshua lucky, he was able to sneak out of our small farmhouse late one night only leaving a note on my bedside table saying goodbye as he left one of the few ships to land on our soil. Father always resented me much like he did Joshua for multiple reasons, one of them being that it was the reason mother had passed, as Anthony informed me one night when asked, another reason being that I supposedly looked like a carbon copy of her, as I was told by the few farmers that remembered her, and lastly and most importantly was my fascination with the outside world. He hated that “Joshua did nothing but fill your head with fantasies.” He hated that because of our small family we needed all the farmhands we could get and that I would always sit with them listening to anything they would tell me, though few would say much as the floaters tended to be a quiet breed, preferring to keep to themselves.

In our town, the floaters and drifters were usually pointed to our farm when looking for work and usually met with my father before I ever had a chance to meet them, most ignoring me throughout their short stay, anyway. If we were lucky we would get one or two by the time harvesting or planting time had come around and they were always roomed in Joshua’s old room, now cramped from shoving multiple cots into the room rather than one small bed. The room was furthest from mine, which made it hard to sneak into to and talk with those who were willing to feed my curiosities. Having been caught and reprimanded enough times by both father and Anthony I had to learn how to be light-footed and sneak around unseen, though I believe that after awhile Anthony has given up on trying to ‘knock some sense’ into me and just doesn’t try anymore.

Life was the same for me day in and day out nothing much changing other than the faces and names of the floaters staying on our humble farm. Excitement in our corner of space was far and few between, leading me to seek it out through any means possible, and more often than not it was the few books I was able to get my hands on them being rare as they were, were exceptionally hard to find new stories. Though luck would have it, I was able to get my hands on three battered books whose covers were so worn and dirtied over the years that any image or words depicted were hardly seen. Of everything on my solemn planet, these were what kept me sane, even if I had read and reread each dozens of times. Though their covers were faded, the titles were imprinted in my mind. I treasured my well-loved copies of Pride and Prejudice, The Hobbit, and Frankenstein and kept them close to my heart while also hiding them from my father for fear of how he’d react to them. Though I love every book I owned, it was the newest in my collection that meant the most to me, for it was the first thing that brought the man I long for and I together, a rather small but thick copy of a collection of poems and stories written by Edgar Allen Poe.

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Waking up on Saturdays were the only time when I didn’t mind having to roll out of bed and deal with the early hour chill. Saturdays were the days that I got sent to town to collect groceries and odds and ends for the farm from the weekend markets. Father learned early on that I had the same touch as my mother when I came to finding the best bargains and deals, so he began sending me in his stead while he and Anthony ran other errands or helped the current farmhands do morning chores.

This Saturday wasn’t much different, upon waking and changing into the day’s clothes, I pulled my hair out of my face before stepping out of my room to head to the kitchen to find the list of what was needed on the counter along with the money needed. As usual, I went through my Saturday routine of making a thermos of coffee before pocketing the money and grabbing my bag. I slip my thermos into the side pocket of the bag as I slip the strap over my shoulder, before grabbing the list and scanning the contents as I walked to where my boots were stored next to the door. While glancing through the list, I started to slide my boots on before stopping. In a small section at the bottom were a few items that were reserved only for the few saturdays that the supply ship stopped in our area of the planet, which was very rare if ever. The supply ships were sent to the planet every couple of months with limited supplies and it landed in certain areas to sell what ever cargo it had brought, only to leave when empty. Only the ships usually were emptied after the first two or three stops and this area was usually one of the last stops, making the ships rare and highly sought after in the area. So the fact that our area was finally getting a ship after almost a year and a half without one was a huge deal. A rather large part of me hoped that there would be floaters on the ship willing to be hired out for farm work, especially since the lack of a ship has made my small family have to tend our meager fame with only the three of us because of the lack of farmhands.

Upon arrival, the town was already bustling with life. Quickening my pace, I went to the center of the town where the new supplies always were held, and upon arriving I made quick work of crossing off everything on the list in hopes of having time to browse for myself. Luck seemed to have shown mercy down on me today as everyone I talked to was fair in prices and after crossing the last item off the long list I still had enough money to buy something for myself and give father change without him being any wiser. Smiling I chatted with a few townspeople and other farmers as I browsed the market, and as I came to the last stall I had yet to look in the market. Having near given up and about to turn from the stall, my eye caught something that had fallen from the makeshift table. Upon picking it up I nearly cried with joy having found what I could only hope to be the next tattered book to add to my collection. Flipping the book over in my hands and flipping through the pages my smile grew as I called the seller over. We haggled the price for a couple of minutes before he accepted my offer with a murmur and taking the money and while turning to begin my journey back to the farm I heard my name being called a couple of stalls over. Looking up, I smiled politely when I noticed it was Mrs.Robertson, taking a deep breath and sighing it back out before making my way slowly over to where she stood.

Mrs.Robertson was a stout woman that had a smile that never seemed to leave her face. She was a lovely woman whose lemon pound cake was well-known amongst the area’s farmers and always had a warm cup of tea and an open ear for whoever walked through her kitchen door, even after her stroke that took all mobility in her left arm. While I have always enjoyed her company, especially as a child when I was longing for a mother figure, recently talking with her always ended with her trying to push her oldest son and I together. Her oldest and youngest sons were the only two of her five children to stay on the planet, and while her youngest had already married and had a couple of children, her oldest didn’t seem to have interest in doing the same, even if she swears that he infatuated with me. Father continuously tells me that he thinks the marriage would be a good idea, even as I tell him it wouldn’t work between the two of us.

So as I walk over to her and give her a hug in greeting I prepare myself for another attempt at matchmaking. Instead after parting from the one-handed hug, she had given me she motioned over her shoulder to a man who was standing there with a crooked smile that seemed to hold every last bit of charm left in the universe, and Mrs. Robertson, without missing a beat spoke up, “I was just explaining to this lovely newcomer that your father is always looking for new people to help with the farm and was just about to point him in your farm’s direction when I noticed you,” as Mrs.Robertson continued to rattle on I took the chance to glance back to the man behind her, only to find that his woefully dark eyes were still watching me with more mirth than I had seen in years. Looking back to Mrs.Robertson quickly hoping that no redness would grace my cheeks, though I knew it was there anyway. She quickly stepped aside and motioned to me introducing me before the man, if at all possible, smiled wider and stuck out his hand introducing himself as Ezra. As I stuck out my hand to shake his I opened my mouth to give him a polite reply only to be shocked into silence when instead of shaking my offered hand he raised it to his shining smile and graced the back of my hand with a kiss. Now I was absolutely certain that there was red dancing across my cheeks, if not my ears as well. Not able to take returning the gaze the man, I know knew to be Ezra, seemed to be piercing my very soul with I turned to Mrs.Robertson, thanking her and wishing her well before turning to Ezra who was still watching me and giving him a shy smile and tilting my head in a motion as to say ‘follow me’.

Ezra seemed to be quiet as we walked throughout the town head back towards the farm, though that might have been because the small talk and greetings that were being thrown my way from those from the area that I was friendly with. When we finally broke from the town and the only sound was the dwindling chatter of the market and buzzing of the local wildlife. Though I was startled to a stop from the previous silence by the man as he spoke melodically and seemingly wit purpose,

“In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed; But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted.

Ah! what is not a dream by day To him whose eyes are cast On things around him, with a ray Turned back upon the past?

That holy dream, that holy dream, While all the world was chiding, Hath cheered me as a lovely beam A lonely spirit guiding.

What though that light, thro’ storm and night, So trembled from afar― What could there be more purely bright In Truth’s day-star?”

Having turned to face the man confused, but noticing he was looking towards the sky with a smile, though one smaller than the one he was sporting when you both had made your introductions with each other, this one seeming more blissful rather than purposefully charming. It was only now though that I noticed the absence of his right arm as his left was moved to his face to shield his eyes from the ever glowing sun. Turning his head back to look at me, his smiled widened again before noticing my slight confusion.

“Sorry flower but I couldn’t help but to notice the collection of stories and poems in your hand there, and thought to quote a poem by our dear morose friend Poe. I find his works to be a tad too depressing for my likes but somethings just stick with your very person,” Ezra drawled before sticking his hand out, “May I?”

Unable to really respond as I was still in slight shock I was only able to nod and pass the book over. Where upon gracing his fingers Ezra was able to skillfully thrumb through the book, mumbling quietly to himself with a smile, “It has been quite sometime since I have been able to visit our friend Poe here or any of my other long dead friends I’m afraid,” he paused for only a moment sticking the tip of his tongue between his lips before giving a small quiet winning cry, “ Ah hah! Here you go, ‘A Dream’ by the one and only Edgar Allan Poe.”

Handing the book back with it open on a specific page and there it was, the poem in which he had just quoted in full. Smiling down at the page, before looking back at him with a somewhat astonished look I dog eared the page before sliding it into the bottom of my bag, “No one else around here really reads anymore. At this point I thought I was the last one in the universe to do so. It….it would be nice to actually talk about reading with someone, though regretfully I just met Poe today so we are not quite as well acquainted as you two seem to be,” looking back up with a smirk and remembering my thermos I grab it out of my bag before lifting it up in offering. “Coffee? Its not quite hot anymore but it is probably still warm.”

With his ever wide smile, Ezra stepped up next to me as I slid my bag back into place and gave a small polite nod, “I would love to do nothing more than share what I am sure is the perfect brew with you, darling flower.”

(If you want to be tagged in part two, let me know in my inbox! Also if enough people are interested I am thinking about opening my inbox to talk and expand on this world I’ve created? Anyways I hope you enjoyed! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are always appreciated!! Much love and Happy 2021!)

(Also if you figured out what I based the planet I created off of please tell me, I’d like to see obvious I made it lol. And if you’d like a hint it’s in the USA)

#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #ezra prospect x you #ezra (prospect) x you #Pedro Pascal #Prospect #ezra x female reader #the second part may have a little spice #considering the song i based this off of #but not alot bc i have found I suck at smut #but it might be hinted at or briefly described?#anyway i am kinda happy to be back writing wise #ive missed this

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imaginethathaikyuu · 5 years ago

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another dono request for @karlitabi-rrito! thank you for donating and letting me write this for you in return! it was super fun and i really hope you enjoy it :)

if you would like a personal scenario, headcanon or a match up, please visit this post for information on charity donation requests

daichi sawamura x fem reader (who is asahi’s sister) (characters are aged up to be in college cuz thats the age range i prefer writing abt but it hardly matters) word count: 2845

When you had something to hide, it was always easy to keep it hidden.

Well, until it wasn’t.

You remembered the day your brother introduced you to his best friends like it was yesterday - which, let’s be clear, it was not. It was two years ago when you were surrounded by a group of boys, most of them looming over you in stature, while your brother guarded you like he was your watch dog.

To be fair, Asahi Azumane was a great brother and an even better friend, and you were the only one who got to see both of those sides of him. When it came to you, his prized sister, he was observant and protective. He saw the look you gave to one of his greatest friends - the one with the number one on his chest and the kindest eyes you had ever seen. And that was when he had to set some guidelines.

Tanaka and Nishinoya were already frothing at the mouth over you, so Asahi had every right to stand between you and the group of college boys and give all of them their own personal glare.

“Off limits. She’s my sister, and she’s off limits. Respect that.”

But maybe that was a bit too harsh. He saw their scared faces - especially on the first years - and he automatically felt bad.

“...Please.”

Your giggle could be heard by the entire team, and the only one you could see from behind Asahi - Number One - smiled at you. It was kind and knowing and pretty, and for some reason, you couldn’t look away from it.

“Well,” the boy said, finally breaking your staring contest to look at Asahi instead. “Could you at least let us introduce ourselves? It would be rude not to.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” He was feeling nervous, you could tell. He definitely wasn’t one for public speaking - and speaking to his entire volleyball team was classified as public to him. “I forgot to mention this, but the whole reason she’s here is to give us some management help. She’s basically going to be a team manager, I guess, since the upperclassmen are now finished. Uh… so, yeah, this is Y/N.”

He stepped to the side and tried to stop feeling awkward, and you only laughed at how awkward he looked. And the team was far too nervous to greet you, which only made it worse.

Well, most of the team. Just like you suspected, Number One was the first to step forward.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N - I’m Sawamura Daichi, the team’s new Captain.”

He said it with a genuine smile and he held his hand out to shake yours; when you took it, his other hand clasped over yours for the warmest handshake you’d ever had.

“It’s nice to meet you, Captain,” you said with a light laugh - you didn’t miss when his brow raised.

“Please - call me Daichi.”

You figure the exchange should have been awkward - what, with your brother watching over you - but it wasn’t. Daichi was as friendly as his eyes looked and as warm as the handshake he had given you. It made it hard to feel awkward around him.

You learned that more and more the months that followed. Daichi was warm in every sense of the word, and he was far too easy to get close to for there to be any preset boundaries between you. He made it easy to overlook them. He made it too simple to step over the line.

Being a manager for the team he was the captain of meant the two of you got to spend a lot of time together, and it was normal for a captain and a team manager to be close. He often met with you after practice so you could communicate things from the coach or anything you noticed about how they were playing, and both of you were always early so you could plan out the needs of the day. But that time was spent with blushing cheeks and lingering touches, knowing looks and bated breath, blurring lines and growing feelings.

It started when Daichi began asking you about your day before asking about practice. It started when you offered him your number “for emergencies.” It started when he walked you to your dorm, meaning for it to be a one time thing but making it a habit.

Goodnight messages turned into good morning texts. Accidental touches turned purposeful. Secret glances turned into meaningful looks.

All without your brother’s knowledge.

A quiet evening in the gym would be the setting for the night that set the standard for what your future relationship with Daichi would look like.

You had wandered to the middle of the room and sat down in the center, just for fun, and Daichi joined you. He was freshly showered and rightfully exhausted from practice, but he’d rather stay with you than turn in early.

You sat across from each other, sitting close enough to send your brother into a panic attack. That thought was always in the back of your mind during moments like this.

Daichi’s hand slid into yours, and you immediately felt warm. He was always so warm.

“...Asahi would kill me if he saw this. If he knew…”

You hung onto his every word. “If he knew what?”

He shook his head and squeezed your hand, trying to find a way to speak through the lump in his throat. “About my feelings for you.” He avoided looking at you until he got the words out, and when his eyes found yours he couldn’t look away. “This… is probably wrong. I shouldn’t -”

“He’s only my brother,” you argued. “He doesn’t own me. What he doesn’t know… won’t hurt him.”

Daichi nodded, speechless. Nervous.

You moved even closer to him. Your faces were inches apart. “This isn’t wrong,” you said. “My feelings for you… aren’t wrong.”

“So it wouldn’t be wrong to kiss you?”

Instead of answering, you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was as special as most first kisses are, but when it ended, a condition was to be made.

“He can’t find out,” Daichi said without thinking, and you agreed just the same.

That was two years ago. Back then, two of you weren’t even in your fourth year, though you were just about to be.

Now, you had graduated from university. Daichi and Asahi’s college volleyball careers were over. You shared an apartment with your brother. And your relationship with his best friend was still a secret to him.

Even worse, the relationship was blossoming right under his nose. Every time Daichi came to visit Asahi, the two of you snuck kisses when he went to the other room. You had even snuck Daichi in from the fire escape more than once.

And you weren’t just hiding from Asahi - you were keeping it from everyone. For your brother to not find out, it meant no one could find out. No friends. No family. No one.

It was hard to only be in a relationship when others weren’t looking. It didn’t do a good job at making the two of you feel valid in your endeavors, and while sneaking around was fun and exciting at night, the awkward guilt ridden mornings weren’t worth it. Having to pretend you don’t know everything about Daichi for the sake of keeping up the act wasn’t worth it. Having to watch him pretend to be interested in other girls when the guys were around and asking him about his love life wasn’t worth it.

Keeping the love of your life a secret wasn’t worth it.

But, like most bad things, you ignored it because it was easier that way. You’d rather have a secret relationship with Daichi than none at all; you’d rather your brother keep his best friend than find out he’d been betrayed by him for two years; you’d rather keep it behind closed doors for his sake, because you couldn’t handle hurting your own brother.

Except, you were starting to slip up. Small mistakes, like making comments about Daichi you shouldn’t be making; letting Asahi see the photo of you and Daichi that was your phone’s wallpaper; accidentally calling him babe while your brother was in earshot.

They were rookie mistakes. You knew better than to slip like that. And you and Daichi had multiple conversations about it - you were going to be more careful.

Well, you would have been more careful. If you had the chance to.

Your brother was away on a business trip for work and wouldn’t be home for the weekend - that gave you and Daichi the chance to play house for a few days. Being lovers of cliches, you were currently laying on his chest on the couch while a cheesy movie played in the background. It was peaceful and loving and warm, just like every moment spent with Daichi. He was safe and secure and yours; he was your happy place embodied.

You were savoring it, because moments like these didn’t come often.

Until the apartment door opened.

You knew only one person would be walking into your apartment. Hell, you hoped it was someone trying to rob you and not the person you actually knew it was - surely Daichi could scare a thief off, but there was no way in hell he’d scare away your equally scary-when-mad brother.

You sat up fast, shaking Daichi to wake him up, but it was too late. The moment the door opened it was too late. There was only a short hallway separating the living room from the foyer, and you had to cross that hallway to get to your bedroom, so hiding Daichi there was out of the question.

There was nowhere to hide when your brother walked into the living room to see you straddling his best friend on the couch. You didn’t even have the chance to tell Daichi what happened, but Asahi’s booming voice cleared things up for him.

“What… in the world… are the two of you doing?”

He didn’t even sound mad - he was nothing but shocked. At first.

“That better be someone who looks like Daichi,” he said to you, “because if it isn’t a look alike, I’m going to freak out.”

“Asahi,” you tried, stumbling to your feet and approaching him like you’d approach an angry bear - which your brother was resembling at the moment. “Don’t get mad.”

And he completely ignored you, walking around you to face Daichi, who had stood up with you.

“Sawamura. What part of off limits don’t you get?!”

Daichi said nothing, and you said nothing, and Asahi was looking back and forth between you two waiting for something.

“I’m sorry,” you said, but it was no use. You knew what was coming.

“You know, I expected it from Nishinoya or Tanaka - hell, maybe even Sugawara! But you? Daichi - you?”

You saw Daichi break then. You watched any resolve he had crumble to nothing. He still had nothing to say. That wasn’t like him.

Instead, he just let Asahi ramble. He took the brunt of it trying his best to look Asahi in the eye out of respect, but at some point his eyes were cast to the floor and he looked as if he couldn’t keep listening.

“And you!” Asahi exclaimed, turning to give you a piece of his mind. “My best friend?! You went after my best friend? Out of all the guys in this city, you choose the one I don’t want you to date?!”

His words hit you like a slap to the face, and you were about to argue when Daichi spoke.

“Don’t - it’s not her fault, don’t blame her. This was all my fault, I knew better but I still pursued her and I’m sorry, Asahi, I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”

“How long?” Asahi asked, and when he got no answer he asked again. “How long has this been going on?”

Both of you stuttered out, “two years,” making Asahi groan loud.

“Dammit. Goddammit.”

He didn’t curse often, especially in front of you, so you were expecting something awful to come after that.

“What?” you asked, pressing him to just get it over with.

“Now I have to let you stay together!”

Daichi pressed him this time. “...What?”

“If this was just some stupid fling I could make you stop,” Asahi replied, now pacing back and forth and seeming to be talking to himself. “But no - two years?! What the hell?!”

“We’re sorry -”

“Save it,” he snapped, and though his tone was harsh the look he gave to you wasn’t. “Two years. You’ve been sneaking around for two whole years?”

“...Yeah.”

“Yep.”

“God. I should have known when I saw you guys together so much in university. I swear I saw this coming. Dammit.”

The room fell to silence, with you watching Daichi and Daichi staring at the floor and Asahi pacing back and forth like he had gone mad. Neither you nor Daichi knew what to do, but Daichi had a feeling he’d be forced to leave if he didn’t go himself.

“Okay, well… I - I apologize again, Asahi, but I understand if you don’t forgive me for this. I’ll see myself out -”

“Don’t you dare - you’re not just going to leave my sister, are you?!”

Daichi was completely taken aback and froze in place - Asahi was being far too brave and it was nothing short of abnormal and scary.

“I - I just thought -”

“So now that I find out about this relationship you’ve got going on, you’re just going to leave her? Do you want me to be pissed off?!”

“I - no, I don’t -”

And you had to step in and save your boyfriend. “Asahi.”

“If you think I’m going to force you guys to break up, you’re wrong. Honestly, I’m offended you think that. Is that why you hid it from me?”

No answer.

“What do you guys think of me, anyway? I would never force you apart. Well, maybe I would, but… not after two years of a relationship.”

Though his words were reassuring, he was still looking at Daichi with a hard stare, and Daichi was still on edge.

“We can talk about this more tomorrow. I need to go to bed.”

Obviously, Asahi just wanted to escape the situation. He’d probably just realized the weight of it all, and now a pit of anxiety was forming in his stomach. But you were glad to see him leave to his bedroom - he needed to calm down, and you needed to make sure your boyfriend was okay.

Even after your brother left, Daichi didn’t speak. He didn’t even look at you. You had to approach him yourself.

“Are you okay?” you whispered, hardly confident in your voice.

Daichi shook his head. “I’m a terrible friend,” he replied.

“Yeah, and I’m a terrible sister. We’re in the same boat, babe.”

He didn’t reply and it worried you, and you were sure this was the end. Daichi obviously felt bad for betraying his friend’s trust - was he going to break up with you as a way to attempt to make it all better?

You stood there waiting, but he didn’t make the wait long. His hand soon slid into yours, and it was as nervously as the first time he held your hand. But it was just as warm, too.

“We’re okay,” he stated - he sounded as if he’d just decided it. “Everything… is okay. Right?”

“Seems like it,” you mumbled. “We’re still standing. He didn’t do what we thought he’d do…”

“I don’t even know why we thought that…” Daichi sighed. “We’ll have to make it up to him.”

Making it up to Asahi consisted of breakfast the next morning, as well as a lengthy conversation explaining your reasoning for sneaking around. And Asahi listened. He understood. He even told you that he thought you were a cute couple.

It made you realize you had been taking your brother for granted all this time; instead of seeing his caring, understanding nature, you only saw your own fear and anxiety. You’d spent so long skirting around him and trying to present something that wasn’t real to him that you hardly knew how to be honest with him.

And that did hurt him. He did feel betrayed by Daichi and lied to by you - even so, it was okay. You were both family. You both love him, and you two loving each other was only a plus. And he would be okay as long as the two of you were, too.

While a part of you would always miss the thrill of sneaking around, there was nothing better than proudly being with Daichi, and now that your relationship wasn’t so weighed down, you could finally grow together.

But it wasn’t all great, because you had found a new weight on your shoulders no sooner than you had lost the previous one.

Asahi had just finished his breakfast when he looked up at the two of you. “Well, since it’s been two years,” he said, “when’s the wedding?”

Daichi looked more afraid than when Asahi caught the two of you together.

“We’ll talk about it.”

#dono req #sawamura daichi x reader #daichi x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #scenario #fluff

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greensword101 · 4 years ago

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My secret santa was @freedom-barricades-bighero16! I am so sorry for the late gift, I tried to finish yesterday, but I had a sudden case of vertigo. But I am pleased with the final product and I hope you are as well. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

“No…” Hiro murmured again, balled up the paper and tossed it over his shoulder. He barely heard the thud of paper hitting paper; no doubt wondering that the wastebasket would need to be emptied again. He combed a hand through his tousled, jet-black hair and slipped another sheet of paper in front of him. The pencil scratched for a few minutes as he worked out what he wanted to draw before discouragement overcame him again and he crumbled the paper and threw it away without a second glance. He dared a glance at the clock and wanted to bang his head against the desk ad nauseum.

Wow. Washed up at fourteen. So sad. He almost heard the rustle of paper from behind before he remembered and scrunched up his eyes to keep the tears from forming. Tadashi wasn’t here to help him now, and he never would ever again. But it helped at times to think of what he would say were they living in a better world. It was effective when thinking of an idea, but every time he tried to imagine Tadashi’s voice now, it would not come to him. He tried to think of what he would say now, what sort of wisdom he would try to impart on Hiro, but he wasn’t sure if Tadashi had ever given him advice on a girl before.

Aunt Cass would be after his hide again if he didn’t put himself into bed, Hiro knew. Bitterness filled his mouth, and it was all he could do to not throw something. Instead, he pushed himself away from his desk and collapsed onto his bed in a dead heap, not bothering to change into pajamas. He just laid there, prone and tired. Seven days until Christmas, he told himself, another year without you, Big Brother.

He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he knew that he hadn’t been underneath his blankets earlier. Now, Mochi was resting, curled up on Hiro’s stomach and a glance at his alarm told him it was just before eight o’clock in the morning. He managed to trudge his way downstairs for breakfast, still groggy with sleep as the hustle and clamor of the café washed over him. Aunt Cass had a plate of eggs and bacon set up for him at a single table with a tall glass of orange juice, which he began to wolf down fervently.

“How’s your little project going?” Aunt Cass asked. His mouth full of food, Hiro took a large swig of juice before he could respond.

“It’s…it’s going bad,” he said bluntly, “I got nothing that might work, and Christmas is in a few days.”

“You could always buy your Secret Santa a gift,” Aunt Cass suggested.

That would work…but I don’t it would be good enough. If it was anyone else he had to get a present for, Hiro would have leapt at the chance to go shopping. But he knew that it had to special, it had to be meaningful since it was coming from him. Tadashi still managed to get him one last Christmas gift even after passing on and it was a meaningful gift that he hoped to cherish for years. For Karmi, it had to be meaningful too.

But what could he get for her that wouldn’t come off as saying Hey, here’s a nice present for you? What’s that? Why does it have your initials engraved into it? It’s because I wanted to show off how much I like you now. Would she like jewelry? He never saw her wearing anything flashy, even during parties. Would she be alright with a stuffed toy? Hiro wasn’t certain if Karmi kept anything plushy around at her age. And what if she didn’t like the gift? Would that mean she would make fun of his efforts?

Suddenly, his appetite left him all at once. He pushed his plate away and looked down into his lap. What was he supposed to come up with in a few days as a gift? Bells jingled as the entrance was opened and a jangle of voices came in with it. He could pick out a few of them, but the noise swallowed up the words too fast for him to follow. Thankfully, Fred was never capable of keeping his voice ‘room appropriate’ and that was the one Hiro was able to focus on.

“Come on, Wasabi! You gotta admit this was my best idea ever!”

“Fred,” Wasabi drawled, “All you did was tape mistletoe to a hat and wear it all day.”

“That didn’t stop you from kissing me!”

Wasabi chuckled deeply, “I guess it didn’t. Hey, little man. Feeling the reason for the season, yet?”

Hiro turned around and had to hold back a snort of laughter. Fred had decided that a fishing hat was most appropriate for his idea. The mistletoe dangled dangerously close to the edge and had a little strip of scotch tape keeping it there. Wasabi decided to wear a dark green, short-sleeved shirt with a Christmas tree embroidered into it instead of his usual sweater.

“Not really,” he admitted and noticed the two of them flushed, “Are you two feeling okay?”

“Yeah,” Wasabi’s voice went up a pitch as he replied, “We’re…we’re good. Really good –”

“Wasabi finally kissed me!” Fred shoved his face close to Hiro’s. He pointed to his hat, “I wish I knew sooner! I’m gonna wear this every year, now!”

“Huh?” It took a moment for Hiro to register what Fred had said, “Oh! Congrats, guys. Maybe you can double date with Honey Lemon and Go Go…”

“Or, we could triple date!” Fred smiled broadly. Hiro looked at him oddly and Fred rolled his eyes, “You know…us, them, you and…”

“It’s not a thing, alright?” Hiro grimaced, “It is certainly not a thing and I don’t think it will be a thing, ever. Forget I asked.” He made to stand up, thinking that Fred would take the hint and drop the matter.

“You’re her Secret Santa, aren’t you?” Hiro stared at him incredulously and Fred just smiled, “Just because I love comic books doesn’t mean I can’t notice these things, little dude.”

Hiro looked around quickly in case he caught sight of someone who shouldn’t have been listening. He looked at Fred, feeling exhausted just looking at his friend now, “You got me. Luckiest guy on Earth. Just a few days till Christmas and I got nothing to show for it.”

Wasabi looked sympathetically at him, “Is there anything we could do to help, Hiro?”

“Not unless you could pull a time machine out of Fred’s hat so I could get back to the start of the month and have more time to get something made for her.”

“I’m serious,” Wasabi grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it over to Hiro’s table. Hiro reluctantly took his place back at his own seat while Fred leaned over Wasabi’s shoulders like a monkey. “So, you still don’t have a gift yet. You can go simple.”

“Simple? For Karmi?” Hiro was incredulous, “Like, what? Show up at her house dressed as…” He did a quick scan around the café before leaning in and whispering, “You know…”

Both men looked at each other and grinned. Hiro gulped nervously; he was used to seeing Fred smile with impish delight, he just didn’t have any idea how scary Wasabi looked with the same kind of intent on his face. Before he could begin to protest, Fred took hold of his arms while Wasabi seized his legs and hoisted the boy into the air. He tried to kick and squirm in their grip, but it was iron clad. They carried him upstairs and into the first floor.

“What are you doing?!” Hiro felt Fred release his grip on his arms and found himself dangling upside down.

“We’re doing this in Tadashi’s stead,” Wasabi was supposed to be the one convincing Fred not to pull crazy stunts, not encouraging them! That was their dynamic. “Just do your thing, little man, and look for a new angle.”

Hiro stopped struggling and allowed himself to dangle, hoping that an idea would come before all the blood went to his head. He trusted that Wasabi wouldn’t let him fall to the hard floor, and he had to trust that he and Fred were on the right track. Baymax couldn’t do something like this for him; lifting a ton in weight didn’t mean that his body was able to do “looking for a new angle” safely without letting Hiro get hurt. It would have gone against his protocol altogether to let someone in his care get hurt.

Protocol…help…Hiro’s eyes lit up with inspiration and he let out a loud whoop of delight that almost had Wasabi dropping Hiro.

“I got it!” He cheered as Wasabi righted him and barreled into the larger man’s chest, hugging him as tightly as he could, “Thanks, Wasabi! I needed that!”

“Hey, what about me!” Fred pouted. Hiro turned to him and threw his arms around Fred’s neck, threatening to choke him. He made a dash for upstairs, “Gotta go, guys! Feel free to bum around!”

The moment he got into his bedroom, Hiro swept away the mess off his desk with one arm and laid down a large sheet of paper, taking careful measurements for the designs and hoping that Karmi would like it…

(0-0)

Karmi felt the beginnings of an agonizing headache coming upon her. It always happened when she was stressed or failed to get enough sleep. This was one of those times and no drink or medicine would prevent it from overcoming her at any rate. The best remedy was to usually fall asleep, but Christmas was almost here, and her gift still wasn’t ready yet! In any case, sleep was for the weak and weary. Karmi wasn’t weak or weary and she had faced more dangers than any sixteen-year-old ought to. It had taken much pleading with her parents and the crime rate in San Fransokyo to go down before they decided to move back. Now that she was home, she wasn’t going to waste a gift like that.

She looked down at her work and frowned. Half-finished patterns, torn pieces of fabric, and loose string caked her worktable. It was always in such an orderly state that Karmi wanted to tear her hair out in frustration. Part of her missed the days where she would recline on the couch and watch Christmas specials as a kid, free of worry or care for serious work while she cherished the sparce days away from school. School was never a happy place for her, truthfully. And it had taken three years of pleading with her parents before they conceded and hired tutors to come to the house. But all she did was exchange bullies for loneliness and Karmi had taken to writing and sewing to dull the ache.

It hadn’t come easy at first; her fingers bled from needlepoints and her hands struggled to create what she would imagine in her mind. The struggle still persisted to this day, but Karmi had learned simple tricks and techniques that made her projects easier. She just prayed that it would help her now as she struggled a few days before her gift needed to be made. Why couldn’t she find an idea that would stick?

Karmi wasn’t always nice to Hiro when they met. In fact, she had been overtly hostile, reeling back from the new threat that had made itself known in SFIT. He was the parasite to her ambitions as he took the honor of youngest student to ever enroll away from her. But, like swimming for a long period in cold water, she had grown used to the boy. In fact, she began to see him as a friend before the crisis with Sycorax forced her to move away. Returning briefly for the summer made her realize how much she missed Hiro. It had been like an early Christmas present when her parents told her that they’d be moving back to the city.

Part of her wished she got a chance to know Hiro more personally. She couldn’t think of anything she knew of the boy regarding personal interests. All she knew was that he was intelligent, cheeky, headstrong, stubborn, liked hanging out with talking robots and that he was the younger brother to the Legend of SFIT. How was she supposed to make a gift based on that alone?

Her head felt like someone had crammed a large bell inside of her head now and was ringing it endlessly. She tried pinching the edge of her palm to delay it, but all she rewarded herself with was more pain. Some part of her wanted to go to find Hiro and ask to see Baymax for help. There must be some protocol in his databanks that could help her deal with her headache…

Her eyes widened with realization and the dull agony in her head was briefly forgotten. A smile crept up on her face as she cleared off her table of waste and debris before laying down a fresh sheet of paper. The measurements had to be precise, she knew it. She wasn’t used to making anything from scratch before, there was usually a reference for her to go by. That thought brought cold prickles to her toes, but she brushed it aside.

As the process continued, her movements became less halted and smoother, like grooving into a fresh block of wood. Her hesitations had lessened, and new thoughts came to mind as she created the patterns for the plushie. And she knew that when Hiro caught sight of her gift to him, it would be a Merry Christmas indeed.

(0-0)

The music was pleasantly mellow and quiet a few days later in the large Exposition Hall of SFIT. Hiro had a fierce battle with his hair earlier that evening, fighting to untangle the gnarls and knots that had been developing overtime unattended. It had taken over an hour before it was decidedly flat and malleable for a comb to attend to. He decided to dress in a red dress shirt with a dark green tie and a pair of black slacks. Fred had suggested he wear a mistletoe on his head, but Hiro had dismissed the idea. He wasn’t going to willingly invite the mockery and teasing of others.

Fred and Wasabi were already there, arms linked together and laughing at something Honey Lemon was saying. She was with Go Go, who had decided to wear a formal suit like Hiro’s, but with a green shirt instead of a red one. Honey Lemon was dressed in a lemon-yellow dress that ended just below her knees. Fred and Wasabi were dressed as alike as a cat was a dog; Wasabi had a black bowtie while Fred had a white tie. Wasabi had a white dress shir Fred wore a black sweater.

Somehow, a pang of jealousy hit Hiro and he tried not to show it. He looked at Baymax warningly in case the robot decided to announce his emotional readings to the rest of world.

“Hiro!” Honey was the first to see him and glomped him, planting a peck on each cheek as they embraced. Once, that would have had his cheeks flaming, but now he just smiled and chuckled. Honey Lemon saw the roll of paper he held under one arm, “Is that your Secret Santa gift, Hiro?”

“Maybe,” Hiro chuckled nervously and tried finding Karmi’s face in the crowd, “I actually need to go find them right now. Catch you later!” And with that, he ran off into the crowd, muttering apologies and pardons to each person he accidentally rammed himself into.

Karmi slowly entered the hall just a moment later, holding a sloppily wrapped bundle in her arms. She was dressed in silvery and gold with long sleeves that ended just below her knees with a blue scarf draped around her shoulder. She had been hoping to see Hiro at the entrance when she came in, but only found his group of friends instead. She looked to Honey Lemon, the one she was most familiar with, “Hey, have you seen Hiro? …not that I’m interested in seeing him or anything, just wanted to know where he was so I could um…not be near him…?” Her smile in the end would have frightened children if they dared to look at her.

Go Go half smiled, “Try the crowd he just bodysurfed into. You might catch him there.”

Karmi looked at the audience of people with trepidation before her eyes hardened with resolve, “Wish me luck, everyone. I’m going fishing!”

“When you come back with Hiro, be sure to bring some sushi!” Fred called out to her as she entered the mob, cradling her present protectively. Wasabi looked at him funnily and Fred shrugged, “What? I’m hungry!”

“How about my lips? You hungry for them?” Wasabi pressed his lips lightly against Fred’s.

Fred’s face burned as he took a hold of the front of Wasabi’s shirt and began to drag his boyfriend away, “Um…excuse me, we need some privacy.” Wasabi’s eyes widened with surprise for a moment before he shrugged and let Fred carry him away without protest.

“Pardon me. Excuse me. Coming through. Really sorry! Nice dress. Love your shoes, wear them more often!” Hiro danced through the crowd, hopping on one foot to the next as he tried to catch a glimpse of Karmi. Hindsight told him that he should have just waited by the entrance or had Baymax scan the room for any sign of her. Stubbornness told him that determination rewarded the daring. His stomach told him that the food at the snack table must be worth skipping out earlier at home.

Meanwhile, Karmi was on the verge of screaming that she had a dangerous bacterium in her hands at the top of her lungs. If it didn’t get her thrown out of the party, quarantined or crushed under a frenzied mob, then it would allow some breathing room for her to move around with ease. She clutched her present tightly, horrified of dropping it to the floor and having some careless foot smash it underneath. After all of those hours of sewing, stitching, and nursing pricks on her finger, Karmi was not going to let it be demolished so easily. Someone bumped into her from behind and Karmi tightened her grip on her gift as she hit the floor.

Someone else tumbled to the floor next to her with a grunt and the crinkling of paper. Karmi got to her feet, reaching down to help the stranger to their feet when she saw that it was Hiro.

“Hiro?”

“Karmi!”

Hiro looked at her outstretched hand for a moment and hastily pulled himself to his feet. They sheepishly tried to avoid looking directly at one another. A moment of courage came to them at the same time and they both noticed how red their faces were. Hiro tried telling himself that it was pretty warm inside. Karmi dismissed what she saw as a trick of the light.

“Nice dress,” Hiro muttered weakly.

“Good color coordination,” Karmi mumbled in reply.

They stared at each other for a few more moments, trying to find the right words to say. They both tried desperately not to let the other see what they were holding in their hands.

“It’s kind of cramped,” Hiro observed, “Snack bar should have some more room.”

“Yeah!” Karmi eagerly leapt at the invitation, “Snacks! I’m hungry!”

They managed their way to the snack bar without difficulty before they both realized that their hands were linked together. Neither of them pushed away from the touch.

Give her the gift, Hiro thought to himself as he eagerly snacked on a plate of pigs in a blanket. This is the best chance you have, just give it to her already.

Shove it into his face and have him open it already! Karmi slowly nibbled on some cheese and crackers, barely tasting them at all. Just do it now.

“Hiro…”

“Karmi…”

They both looked at each other.

“You first,” Hiro smiled nervously.

Karmi flushed and fiddled with the gift in her hands, “I…some party, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t gone to a lot, to be honest,” Hiro rubbed the back of his neck, “Last time I went, the dance got cut off because of High Voltage. I thought Megan was going to get hurt…”

“Megan?” Karmi tried to keep the terror out of her voice.

Hiro looked at her with wide eyes and hastily added, “She’s just a friend! A friend with a really crazy cop for a dad…who wanted to hook up with Aunt Cass.”

Karmi winced, “Are they still seeing each other?”

Hiro’s smile grew mischievous, “They haven’t been on a date since Aunt Cass learned he was being a…”

“Jerk?” Karmi suggested.

“Yeah. A jerk.”

Karmi looked at her present and grew determined, “Hiro, I wanted to…”

“Karmi, I…”

“Merry Christmas,” they both said at once, shoving their gifts forward, eyes wide shut and braced for impact. When they both braved a look, however, they each stared in silence at what was being offered to one another.

“You first,” Hiro held out his gift to her, looking more fourteen than Karmi had ever seen him. She took the roll of paper from him and hastily gave him her poorly wrapped gift in exchange. She undid the wrapping and unrolled it. When she looked inside, Karmi saw a small Chibi design of herself looking back at her on blueprint. Measurements were inscribed as well as features that would be included in it. Her own personal aid in the lab, meant to be programmed with features to help keep her projects safe and monitored.

“It’s not finished yet,” Hiro murmured apologetically, “This is the final draft I made and it’s going to take a few weeks, and I figured…” He chuckled weakly before continuing, “Who else could you trust with your lab than yourself?”

You. She wanted to say it. I would trust you, Hiro.

“I love it already,” Karmi said instead, “Thank you…you should open your gift too. I didn’t think I could make a robot like you, but…this was the next best thing.”

Hiro ripped the present open and felt his mouth widen. He knew it was made with minky. He couldn’t help but think of Mochi as he caressed the fabric in his hands and sorely wanted to press it against his face. Two black button eyes stared back at him and Hiro was certain that it would sound just like Baymax if it could talk.

“Karmi…” He began, but words failed him.

“I like to sew in my freetime too,” Karmi blushed, “I didn’t know if this was your thing or not, but I know how much you love Baymax. Its like having a piece of your brother with you. You could have that in your room and it’d be like…having a piece of me with…”

The rest of her words were cut off as Hiro slammed into her and wound his arms tightly around her chest.

“Thank you, Karmi,” he whispered in his ear, “I love it.”

Karmi reached around with her arms and hugged him back fiercely. They stayed like this for a few minutes before pulling apart. Hiro reached out and grabbed her hand into his own and guided her through the crowd again without another word.

When they reached the entrance again, they saw Honey Lemon and Go Go waiting for them with knowing smiles on their faces. Wasabi was walking back to them, straightening out his mussed shirt and tie, hastily covering his neck with one large hand when he caught sight of the others. Fred came following afterwards with a blissful look on his face that came right off when he noticed Karmi and Hiro and said, “Hey! Where’s my sushi?!”

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theatresweetheart · 5 years ago

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71. A Gentle “I Love You” Whispered After A Soft Kiss, Followed Immediately By A Stronger Kiss with Prinxiety!

Fountains and Lavender

Warnings: Kissing.

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety, Familial Analogical

Characters: Roman, Virgil, Logan, Emile.

Word Count: 1878 words.

Continuation/AU: Of Stars and Royal Gardens, Raging River

——————————

The sound of bells chiming and people erupting into boisterous cheers were the only things that Virgil could coherently focus on.

There were petals tossed about and an overwhelming amount of flowers and their sweet-smelling scent.

He pulled back, his face flushed red to the tips of his ears and mouth tingling. Roman stood in front of him, looking down at a slight incline and meeting his newlywed’s eyes.

The prince felt lightheaded at the fact that he was now a married man. Just yesterday he’d met his betrothed for the first time, and now, here they stood, hand in hand, inches apart from each other, legally declared husbands by the church and the royal priest.

Virgil almost felt like fainting.

Everything was happening so fast.

Heart slamming in his chest, Roman released only one of his hands, before turning to face the crowd standing in the venue. Virgil, once he turned, immediately found his father standing at the side of Emile. The only real reaction he got from Logan was a slight nod of the head, which Virgil responded to with a nod of his own and a near grimace– he saved the unsure expression by masking it with a smile.

With years of practice under his belt when it came to hiding his true emotions from his people, the worried look was easily wiped away.

“I‌ present to you the first time as a wedded couple, your princes,” the priest said, calming the crowd just long enough to speak over them in a booming voice. “Prince Roman and Virgil‌ Sanders.”

Emile had fervently insisted that they take Logan and Virgil’s name. To honour the sacrifice being made and to not only show the bonds of their kingdoms by their princes being married, but by joining them by name.

Roman’s hand tightened on his own, the only sign that showed Virgil he was just as nervous as he was himself. Outwardly, Roman was beaming, bright eyed, wide smile, puffed chest. But the slight shaking of his hand was telling the prince otherwise.

Virgil’s look was softer, but that was something his people already knew to expect from him.

Soon enough, they were making their way through the opening where the crowd was parted, guarded slightly by a few sharply dressed knights with swords, but nothing that was threatening. People threw eucalyptus and lavender.

And before they knew it, everything was over.

Everything included the coronation, the day afterward. Those past few days had felt like a blur and Virgil hadn’t ingested any alcohol in any of the three days he’d been there—so perhaps the uneasy feeling just rested in the fact that he was not only a married man, but a king.

Weeks had passed. It was deepening into autumn in the kingdom, turning the trees orange, red and gold.

Virgil had gone through a stroke of homesickness, but it had faded rather quickly; it was the first time he’d been so far from home, after all.

Which brought him back to where he was presently; seated outside in the royal garden just in front of a white arch covered in fading green vines, the flowering buds had long since come to fruition and their petals were beginning to drop and colour the ground instead.

The fountain to his slight right was still gushing water from its spout. The pristine marble almost looked untouched.

He let out a soft sigh, watching his breath puff out in front of him in the swiftly cooling air. Autumn was certainly here, and slowly coming to a head. He tugged the dark knitted-shawl closer to himself. He hadn’t worn anything too overbearing, as he hadn’t wanted to overheat while getting here and then sit miserably trying to cool off.

Virgil’s eyes turned up toward the dwindling daylight, watching the sky turn into a mixture of blacks, blues, purples and pinks. He could see stars dotting the heavens in the darker parts of the sky. It was a sight that relieved him of any homesickness when it bloomed in his chest. Escaping to the garden was his safe place, he’d found comfort here many times over the few months he’d been married.

The sound of soft steps behind him made Virgil turn his head slightly, to show that he knew they were there. He already knew who it was.

“Come to drag me back inside and out of the cold?” He said, turning back to face the garden.

He heard Roman chuckle, deep and warm. “No,” his husband said, instead coming to sit beside him on the marble bench. He sat close enough that their shoulders touched, even though there was plenty of space. “I‌ came to join you, if you’ll have me.”

Virgil shook his head with a quiet laugh. “Not much I can do against it now.” A core of warmth bloomed from where Roman’s shoulder brushed his own—the man was a living fireplace, he swore it. That warmth filtered through his shoulder and eventually into the rest of his body, never-mind the chill of the wind biting at his nose. “Anything special bring you out here?”

“Other than you?” Virgil rolled his eyes at that, Roman only grinned. He sobered slightly after a moment, but the ghost of a smile still remained. “No, not particularly. Just wanted out of the castle for a little while. I‌ heard in passing that you were out here. What have you been doing?”

Virgil sat in the peaceful quiet for a moment, debating the question. He’d been doing a lot of reminiscing. “Thinking,” he allowed after a heartbeat.

Roman quirked a brow. “About?”

“Our wedding,” Virgil finally turned to face him, watching Roman’s expression carefully. “And the coronation. How it all happened so fast and it almost doesn’t feel– real, in a way.”

“No, I get that.”

“You do?”

Roman shook his head, with a soft noise. He dropped his gaze for a moment, before turning his attention to the fountain to their right. “One moment, I’m just a prince fulfilling princely duties. The next thing I‌ know, I’m married to a man I‌ hardly knew and then thrust into the position of king.”

Virgil leaned forward, trying to gauge the expression. Roman was keeping his face carefully neutral. “It’s nice to know we felt the same.”

Roman’s brows rose at his wording. “‘Felt’ the same?”

Virgil shrugged his shoulders, taking his turn to look anywhere other than the other man. “Sure,” he said, feeling his cheeks warming even in the cold, “feelings change over the course of few months, you know. They’re fickle things.”

He felt warmth encompass his hand suddenly. He glanced down to see Roman interlacing their fingers, before looking up to meet the other’s eyes, glittering in the moonlight and flickering lamplight from hanging posts.

“I’m curious to ask,” Roman said, his eyes following every dip and ridge of Virgil’s features, as if trying to cement them into his memory. “Are these good feeling changes?”

“I‌ wouldn’t say they’re necessarily bad,” Virgil said a moment later. He took in an unsteady breath, turning just the tiniest bit more toward him. His head almost felt like it was swimming.

Roman reached over, gently accepting Virgil’s other free hand into his own. They were turned to each other, eyes locked on one another’s. Roman’s eyes kept dipping every once in a while, and Virgil felt his heart rate spike. If this was going where he thought it was, they hadn’t kissed since their wedding day. Both had been either too busy, or too reluctant to initiate it just in case they were stepping over unsaid boundaries.

But here, there was something different between them. It was unspoken, but there was the reassurance that this was a mutual want. Though, when Roman leaned impossibly closer and the two of them were just a breath away from each other, he spoke, low and resonating; “If this is something you don’t want, just..”

Virgil hadn’t let him finish and he moved forward, meeting his husband’s mouth in what would be their second kiss since their wedding. It was soft, softer than what he had been expecting admittedly.

Roman’s hands let go of his own, but only for a moment before he found himself being tugged closer. Virgil’s own found the front of Roman’s tunic, twisting into it.

The broke apart for a second, taking a moment to breathe but staying close enough that their noses touched. It was odd, in a way, being this close to Roman. The closest they got to anything intimate was laying in bed together.

The world around them was almost silenced. The soft rushing of water was a constant, but Virgil’s senses were alight with Roman. What he felt like, what he smelt like, what he tasted like.

Impatience lingered in the back of his mind, but just before he could act on it, Roman was speaking to him. In a voice that was barely there. It was quiet as a whisper, softer than the gentle breeze carrying autumn air in its wake.

“I love you.”

There was no time for a verbal response as Virgil wasn’t capable of such a thing right now. He tugged on the front of Roman’s shirt and brought him in again. This time the kiss wasn’t as soft. It was meaningful all the same, but it was rougher, slightly more passionate than before.

Virgil’s hands moved to lock into his partner’s hair, smoothing through it while one of Roman’s rested on the back of his neck and the other stayed stationary on his hip, but digging into it just enough.

When they pulled back this time, they were more breathless. This time with good reason to be.

Virgil’s eyes found Roman’s once they fluttered open and he laughed before he could help it. It wasn’t nervous or ashamed or revolted, it was genuine. Probably one of the first genuine laughs Virgil had allowed himself.

It confused the other for just a moment, but he broke into a grin himself. His shoulders trembled with mirth, eyes alight with warmth.

They settled down not a few minutes later and Virgil had pulled back a bit more, giving them both a bit of space to breathe. Their hands were once again interlaced. Though, something remained in the back of his head. What Roman had said, that had prompted such a primal response from himself.

He needed to know. So, sitting in the quiet of each other, Virgil squeezed Roman’s hands. “Did you mean it?”

A heartbeat passed between them and before Virgil could allow himself to worry, Roman squeezed his hands back. “Yes.” He then paused, licking his lips in a nervous habit. “Do you.. feel the same?”

The question sounded forward, but coming from someone he was married to, Virgil found himself softening. He could see the insecurity in Roman’s gaze, showing that he wasn’t all boisterous king.

“I do.”

Those words almost seemed to hold more meaning now then they did on their wedding day, as then they hadn’t known each other.

But now, as they sat in the silence of each other, listening to the world moving around them, creating a place of safety and serenity, he’d never felt more inclined to say that he loved someone.

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press-x-tojason · 4 years ago

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Giant Bomb is dead, and I care way less than I thought I would. Probably because 83% of the people who I ever cared about had already left or died, or were already relegated to reduced content roles.

Honestly, though, the writing’s been on the wall for a bit. They haven’t had anything worthy of paying for premium in several years, and, even though they’ve had well over a year to figure out a plan for the COVID era, they maybe made it a month with their plans to have a series of streams daily. I actually managed to forget I followed them on Twitch at all, for about 4 months, because they only streamed the podcasts and the occasional former Harmonix employee (who was literally paid to make content with their games while employed at Giant Bomb, which was funny because he blocked me on Twitter for making a post, addressing no one, back in 2014, which was asking about the legitimacy of the leaked list of “games “””””journalists”””””” who had taken money from publishers for positive reviews, a list which included him and multiple then-coworkers. I didn’t follow him, he didn’t follow me. He was manually searching the keywords, because he was, and is, a prick.) solo Rock Band stream in the last 8 months or so. Even when Jeff would manage to do one of his 20 streams from home a year, it would be on his own channel. There was just no content. And they’re surprised their “pay for our unique premium content!” model failed. They always “feigned” anger at Dan for “making” them do the Mario Party Parties, and literally never promoted his and Drew’s Metal Gear series after the first game... but I bet that, when only those, UPF, and the ad-free versions of the podcasts were premium features, those two series were keeping them afloat. Well, that and the remaining goodwill they miraculously managed to hold onto for a few years after Ryan died. Shit, I follow several people who are GB staff-adjacent, and... I can’t think of the last time they mentioned anything that happened on-site. Even the people who’ve been directly supporting them for over 10 years were out.

But yeah, the site is super dead. They pretended in the announcements like they’re going to make a go of it still, but... you’ve got like 4 content people left, and the only one people give a shit about is Jeff. You just saw 3/4 of the side of the site that was still trying these past several months jump ship in a 3 month span. One of those was, by nearly any definition, a founding member. Of which you had already lost one, and are losing another from the main side. Jeff’s been way less active until the last week or two, probably because he heard they were leaving and was like “oops, should probably check on the ship that’s been sinking for years!” Then you have Jason “The Human Mumble” Oestricher, the charisma vacuum, whose legitimate public-facing reaction to first hearing that all but one of his GB predecessors were going to be gone. was, and I quote, “Hoo Boy.” Ben and Jan are the definition of “fine”. They would have been great, as they are today, as secondary members 8-10 years ago. But carry the site, they cannot. They’re down to, what, 5 named members now? It hasn’t been that dire since the beginning of 2009, before they hired Drew, when they hadn’t even started the P4 endurance run. You know, that surprise massive, internet-changing thing that essentially popularized the Let’s Play concept, loosening its definition and making it something that could be as personality-driven as game-driven, made simply to give them something to put on the website, beyond the rare review and, slightly later, quick look. This kinda illustrates the problem with modern Giant Bomb. When they were figuring shit out, flying by the seats of their pants, they came up with great shit, and they gave enough of a shit to make it happen. 0.000% chance they do a 10 hour Thanksgiving Kinect stream if the Kinect was new today. 0.000% chance the core members would have done an endurance run in the last 10 years if CT and Shenmue (which I haven’t watched) weren’t driven by the younger members. And you could see it in the fact that they never made a real, true mobile app. The number one thing that would have made them indispensable this past decade, an app to integrate premium features, the podcast, their video player, etc. all in one place in a mobile-friendly package, that could sync with the website... and they never even raised the idea publicly. I wonder how much of the innovation was the group think-tank of the first 5 years. Beyond Dan’s couple major contributions, I don’t think they added a single new type of content after 2012, which... still means the last 6.5 years lacked any semblance of innovation. I guess that’s a big part of why I fell off tremendously quickly after late 2014. There was just nothing new, and believe me, I was looking. I wanted reasons to stay watching. I supported them with my dollar. I believed in those brave early days. And I went back yesterday to watch the DP endurance run from VJ again. I still miss that rapport. And really, that hurt, too. Vinny moving back east, less than a year after Ryan passed... short term, it was fine. You had more people than ever to cover the gaps. But the spark was gone. The chemistry made the site. When I think of Giant Bomb, I still think of Jeff, Vinny, and Ryan, first and foremost. Those early podcasts, the NintenDownloads, the crazy tangents that everyone could seamlessly follow up on(well, except Brad, because he essentially slept through most of the podcasts, unless he was talking about the thing he did that week), the weird high-concept GOTY stuff... it wasn’t perfect, but you were entertained. You laughed. You were engaged. It never felt like you were watching them working, even though you could see the work they put in. It felt like, when they released something, you were experiencing a group of legitimate friends doing what they wanted to do anyways.(And boy have I seen enough groups do everything they can to NOT be enjoying doing that, and break up as a result due to hating the jobs that they chose to do).

Part of me would love to make it as simple as “Ryan died, and so did the original spirit”, and... to a degree, it’s true. If you go back to any retrospective they’ve done about the founding of the site, or the podcast they recorded after Ryan passed, you can’t help but recognize that Giant Bomb never happens if these core members don’t all quit their jobs, led by Ryan, because they respect their boss/manager, Jeff, and know he’s doing the right things(for them, for the reader/viewer, etc.) ahead of what GameSpot management wants him to do. Jeff could have been left in the wilderness, trying find a spot elsewhere, with the rumor going around between executives that Jeff wasn’t going to help them promote anything, essentially killing their revenue. He would have been done in terms of getting employed by a major site. But Ryan first, and soon after, Vinny and Brad, gave up their jobs to make this fledgling little project go. As much as the ERs brought me in and gave the impression that Jeff and Vinny were the long-standing duo, no, it was Ryan who was Jeff’s partner in crime. And, 8 years later, I can comfortably say... Giant Bomb never recovered from losing him.

But it was so much more. Everything that set them apart slowly went away, in time. I don’t think they’ve posted reviews for games in consecutive MONTHS since 2017; 2018 at the latest. They have done one Endurance Run in 9 years. They have not had a meaningful live event in 6 years. Unprofessional Fridays were more formulaic and lesser in volume and frequency after the major players started moving east. The lack of coordination between coasts killed the camaraderie, to the point that I think one of the last 5 true gameplay crossovers was their series of 2016-2017 PUBG shitfests. I remember when Vinny starting GBEast was supposed to be the start of a new era of content, and... it was, but not in a positive way, like it sounded. When half of each side seemed to constantly have no interest in making anything, nothing got made. But I guess that’s what happens when your second in command in one of your headquarters is just a former marketing grunt with an attitude problem, and the guy with the biggest ego on the team is the one who refuses to move to join either side, and just pushes out the most self-important drivel as a header to what were literally just copy-pasted articles from other sites every week while sitting at his desk, dreaming of the days Gawker would pay him to plagiarize political drivel instead, because that’s what really gets the soulless clicks. One of your founding members becomes depressed due to losing his two closest work friends, one for real, one to a 3000 mile separation, within a year, while the other one who is left virtually stopped playing anything but DOTA 2 for 2 years. Suddenly your most prominent personalities are the 2 new guys(one the aforementioned charisma vacuum, the other a walking mark) and your previously-mostly-off-camera producer who is best known to the wider Internet for... blinking. So, yeah, lifeless. And NOW, all you’ve got is old melancholy dad, charisma vacuum dad, and the two ADHD kids whose defining trait is that they choose to exclusively refer to their partners as “my partner” in voices that make it sound like they are embarrassed to have partners, while also talking more about what their partners are doing than what they do. It’s confounding.

But yeah, TL:DR: RIP zombie Giant Bomb. Glad you’re finally getting taken behind the shed. It took 3 years too long, minimum.

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