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stilemawillow · 2 years ago

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MTIJ | Ch.27 Not to Depress, But Listen Here

|mtij masterlist|

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

word count: 12.1k

summary: a girl with a variety of hidden complexes has to live with a french asshole for nine months. easy? on the surface. problematic? definitely. romantic? not too much, or at least they’d make it a point to say so everytime when asked. the end? please, their dynamic isn’t as simple as that.

Work, work, work.

It sounded like dripping water, except it was the sound my brain cells made as they died one by one ever so slowly the more I had to deal with Melinda’s bullshit. Melinda Carter, a brief overview would be – my superior and monitor at work and the biggest walking headache I’d encountered in my life. A longer physical overview would be – long blonde hair with dark roots, bright red lipstick that reminded of Hitch, harpy-like acrylic nails, wide hips swaying with each step she took in the clothes that were not dress-code appropriate, forty years of age, heavy cougar energy accompanied constantly by a sweet condescending “darling” concluding each sentence she spoke and, of course, a second-hand Gucci bag with what most people would call a rat in it.

Here was a comparison that would make you understand a bit better my disposition – I felt, undeserved as it was, I hated her an iota more than Hitch. You feel me yet? Either way. The point here wasn’t to focus on the bad, but to give a better grasp of how the good in between was greatly enunciated and appreciated against the background of it. The good in this case came in even intervals – those, in the practical sense, would be called breaks, and they broke the constant chant the scene opened with. Breaks were leisure, away from Melinda Carter, most often spent tucked against the back of the supermarket. This one did not come with as much relaxation as I’d expected.

“Annie, for the last time, I don’t want to third-wheel on your date with Erwin tomorrow,” I grumbled into the speaker as Adam handed me my coffee with a smirk, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. It was a bad habit – with that I meant both my growing friendship with him and the way he thought nicotine-stuffed tobacco would rid him of his stress.

“We can always make it a double date,” he supplied ever so kindly after inhaling from the aforementioned nicotine source. I stuck my tongue out at him with a half-hearted glare and took a sip from my coffee, patiently listening to my best friend complain over the phone about how she had important things to share with me and Saturday was obviously one of the very few days I had no work on.

“(Y/N), I sincerely hope you realise that ever since you got this job two weeks ago, I’ve seen you only once. That says a lot considering the usual schedule we’ve maintained for the past fifteen years. This won’t be third-wheeling. It’s my chance to see you – and your chance to ask Hanji more about Petra since she’ll be coming along,” the blonde argued wisely – the only voice of reason I seemed to have both in and out of my head. A snort left my nose as Adam pushed my shoulder jokingly and almost made me choke on my coffee. I glared at him and pushed back, making him laugh.

“First, I’m sorry our schedule got ruined because I want to see you too, Ann. Second, I told you the Petra thing doesn’t matter anymore. If Mr I’ve-Got-A-Stick-Up-My-Ass doesn’t want to share, Hanji won’t either. Plus, I haven’t talked to him normally once in the past two weeks and now you expect me to interrogate his friend about his past? Say yes after letting it sit for a bit,” I warned with a knowing look, realising Annie truly was the only voice of reason I had and she would actually ponder it. Levi and Petra were taboo right now, moreover when mentioned in the same sentence, and I didn’t want to go back on my promise of keeping my pride safe after my last argument with Levi. Buckling in front of Hanji under the impression it would finally clear my conscience and mind of all doubts was plain stupid and rather humiliating, if I were to admit so myself.

“I won’t say yes because you won’t be interrogating her. We won’t ask anything at all if that’s what you want. But at least come and try to help me. I still feel uneasy around Erwin’s friends and Hanji’s the one who spends the most time teasing us about our… thing. If you learn anything about Ackerman it’ll be just a bonus.” I could almost feel the pouty face she was making on the other end of the line. Annie had a tendency to pout – much like me – when things didn’t go her way. I could bet she was doing it now, so I only took another sip of coffee before speaking.

“Fine, I’ll come and help you survive in the hard conditions,” I groaned in defeat, making the blonde snort like she’d been expecting this breaking point of mine. Of course, she had. Like I expected hers whenever I asked something of her. It was just the way things between best friends went – a bit of push and pull, but, in the end, a happy ending. Adam smirked at me and I pushed at his shoulder when he was exhaling, making the smoke slipping past his curled lips dance in the air when he chuckled. I’d sincerely hoped for him to choke and entertain me further but this much would do for now.

“Finally. Thank you,” the blonde mused tiredly, making me huff as I threw the raven next to me a warning look. At the thought of going out tomorrow, my heart sank a bit. Levi would, as per usual these past few days, not care one bit about that – I’d go in and out of the house and he’d ignore me, forcing my mind deeper into a state of repressed spite and despair.

“No problem, girl friend. I’ll see you tomorrow, so text me the details,” I sang before hanging up and putting the phone in the pocket of my uniform. It was the plainest thing I’d ever worn, but it wasn’t orange, which was a good start. “No double date,” I blurted out the moment Adam’s twinkling blue hues told me he’d open his mouth and ask what time he should pick me up. Rejected, he pouted and used what I’d learned was supposedly his best method with the girls – namely, the puppy dog eyes.

“Why not?” He whined innocently, big blue eyes attempting to pierce my steel resolve. Then he lifted the cigarette to his mouth for another drag and I rolled my eyes at the bad boy attitude he displayed. He came to work dressed in leather jackets and combat boots, knowing the evenings when we got off would be chillier than the relatively cool mornings. He smoked and used that fuckboy sup nod only to get laughed at by my unaffected highness. His charms were yet to impress me but his loyalty and persistence were truly astounding. And without Levi’s definite presence in the picture, I’d let myself realise that.

“Because you don’t know anybody there and I haven’t agreed to a date with you,” I explained, making him pout as he stepped on the smouldering butt of the cigarette after dropping it to the ground with a smirk. I had to admit he was charming but in that delinquent manner I wasn’t exactly used to. Eren had always been good to a fault – good grades, good manners, good thoughts. He was smiles and cuddles, big hands, forehead kisses, pillow fights, video game competitions turned to nap dates and purposely sloppy hot-chocolate kisses that left behind a sweet moustache.

“Yet.” The blue eyes shone brightly, confidently, and I snorted in spite of the way I liked it when they did that. Adam Rivers was crooked smirks and bad sex jokes, tickle fights when I was in a bad mood, constant nudges and distractions, strong cologne sticking to my clothes, cigarette smoke being purposefully blown into my face to pester me and an excessive amount of French kisses if given the change – or so I guessed. For me, he was the stranger tides I wasn’t accustomed to.

“Whatever floats your boat, Rivers.” I took another sip from my coffee when my headache waltzed onto the scene, greeting us with its sickeningly sweet voice.

“Adam, Raven!” Another thing about Melinda Carter that further helped create a character profile – her preferences showed in the way she addressed people. First names for whoever she was fond of and surnames for little pests like me. “Break ends in a minute, go back inside!” And there she was, turning the corner so she could look at us while scolding us. Her lips were stretched in a smile as she stared at Adam and I quickly drowned the rest of my coffee before she could “confiscate” it. She really loved doing that to every drink Adam bought me during breaks and no, I wasn’t being conceited because she never took and threw the drink away when I’d been the one to buy it. Her childish jealousy, however, was the least of my problems.

“Coming, Miss Carter.” Adam winked at me before pushing himself off the wall and heading in the direction of our superior. I scowled at her next words as she put a manicured hand on his shoulder in passing. I was honestly surprised she could reach it since she was shorter than me and the most I could do was slap him straight in the nose if I reached up really hard.

“Just Melinda’s fine, darling,” she cooed lovingly and, much like I’d caught up with Natalie’s man-eater tendencies after leading two short conversations with her, here I managed to catch the cougar vibes Melinda’s smile towards Adam oozed on my very first day on the job. The next two I’d spent confirming it. And now, before I could continue briefly cussing at her internally, her radar came to life and her brown hues bore into mine. “Raven, are you coming, darling?” The darling she attached to sentences aimed at me always had a slimy quality to it.

“Yes, Miss Carter.” I pushed myself off the wall as well and renewed my mental cussing session once we’d all entered the building. Adam and I had three more hours till the end of our shift and I scowled at the shelves I had to stack with packs of chips and chocolate under the sharp gaze of Melinda Carter. It was a wonder why she was yet to get fired when she only looked at me work when she was supposed to occupy a position of physical labour as well. Last week, however, Adam had let me in on the secret of her success, which was getting into our boss’s tight pants and visiting weekly. Climbing the social ladder wasn’t limited to just one way, after all. I’d almost puked at the mental image and Adam had gotten a good laugh from the green tint of my face.

Work, work, work.

The next three hours were a ruthless purge of my brain cells because of every comment the blonde superior behind me made during the working process. I turned around once with the intention to sass her harder than I sassed myself in the mirror when I saw her filing her nails and humming a very off-tune version of an old Britney Spears song. Maybe Toxic. Either way, her humming had made the tone unrecognisable. And the minute she opened her mouth to announce the end of our shifts, I ran for the changing rooms as fast as I did back in the day when Hitch was “it” during a game of tag.

I walked out of the supermarket and Melinda stayed behind to commit to her weekly deal with our boss – outside, I saw Adam waiting for me. He was checking the time on his phone when I asked what he was still doing here, to which he replied he was going to walk me home. I reluctantly let him, mostly because I was in the mood for company. The journey to my house was spent in shoulder pushing and lots of dirty jokes while asshole-me endeavoured to compare Adam to Levi and Eren inside my head, giving me the intense urge to hit myself across the face. And once we were standing before the Raven household’s doorstep, the blue-eyed male smirked crookedly.

“So, I guess this is goodbye,” he said shortly, but didn’t move at all. My brows furrowed in mild confusion and I didn’t know what was going through his head but then he stepped closer to me and his lips parted. “Can I kiss you?” My mouth almost gaped at the question when his hand softly touched mine. I was set on saying “no” but a whole other sentence went out instead.

“I think it’s a bit early for that,” I reasoned, making him chuckle before his lips pouted in the slightest. I would’ve been lying if I said he didn’t look cute like that. The blue of his hues shone at me sadly and I didn’t have the heart to yank my hand from his loose hold. His fingers made me feel a bit better – not safe, but better in a way.

“So you don’t want to,” he concluded softly, making my brows furrow as I glared at him half-heartedly. I felt my fingers relax in his grasp when his face leaned closer to mine curiously. I didn’t shy away at the proximity but the crease on my forehead didn’t fade either. It was rather vexing that I couldn’t get Levi out of my head right now, along with the words (“That’s not the wisest choice, princess. Kissing him when I’m still here, I mean.”) he could potentially say in a world neither of us had their brain-to-mouth filter. Still, why should his stupid face disrupt private moments such as this when he wasn’t even present? It was annoying.

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” I argued with a scowl, getting the honour to listen to the ring of Adam’s amused chuckle a second later. His eyes glistened a bit brighter and he was smiling. I found myself liking the sound of his chuckle in this setting. I hadn’t heard Eren laugh in months and Levi rarely did as much as snort in amusement. Adam’s chuckle was a blessing.

“You’re cute when you get annoyed, you know that?” His fingers gave mine a light squeeze. I saw his face inching towards mine but it wasn’t out of curiosity this time. I took a small breath and braced myself. I had the right to kiss boys if I wanted to. I was single and I didn’t have to be faithful to anybody – (Levi’s face surfaced once more) anybody at all. Adam was kind and funny and he’d been flirting with me for the past few weeks with respectable endurance – so this could be a reward for his patience. His grip on my hand was gentle and I could smell his cologne, and his lips were about to touch mine when the front door opened. Too taken aback by the action, I stood frozen when I should’ve jumped back and put some distance between us. The only thing Adam did was open his eyes and stand straight, any hints of embarrassment on his face adroitly hid from all people present. I looked at the door only to be met with the horrific sight of the grey hues I’d been thinking about.

My throat went dry and my windpipe was tied in a knot, eyebrows drawn together in an indecisive scowl while a feeling of panic closely mirroring fear nestled deep into my chest. An excuse, an excuse, an excuse, quick, I had to think of an excuse. Levi’s jaw was tense and his eyes were glaring but he looked perfectly normal otherwise, which (was oddly unpleasant) wasn’t disappointing in the least. Adam coughed into his fist after letting go of my hand and met my gaze with a small reassuring smile. There was unease clinging to the corner. Yes, before you got to know him better, Levi was quite intimidating.

“I’ll be going. See you on Monday,” he said before turning around and making his way down the street. I soon lost sight of his lean figure round the corner. My mind was full of panic and excuses but none of them were exiting my mouth. Levi moved before I could say anything – it was then I saw the tight gloved hold he had on a pair of trash bags. He didn’t look at me in passing, but he left the door open so I could get inside. So I did, taking off my shoes and skipping into the kitchen to make myself a peppermint tea in hopes it would help with my anxiety. In my mechanical performance, I made an Earl Grey for Levi. I could bribe him into keeping quiet in front of my parents with it. Or maybe I could use it to apologise. My hand froze as it stirred a spoonful of honey into his tea and my eyes narrowed.

Why would I apologise? Because I found somebody I considered a potential boyfriend? A snorted spitefully when asshole-me answered: No, dumbass, because Levi saw you almost kissing Adam when he was the one kissing you some weeks ago and you feel guilty about it. I grumbled under my breath and before I could settle on a reason, the raven had closed the door behind himself and was currently in the process of removing his gloves. His nose scrunched up as he stuffed them into a drawer under the sink and I held back a huff – such a clean-freak. He took a seat next to me at the counter and I put the steaming cup of black tea in front of him. His fingers cautiously wrapped around it and he relished the aroma prior to taking a small sip.

“I see you finally moved on from Jaeger.” Was the first thing he said as I sat by him, blowing on my tea in order not to burn my tongue. The fingers on my left hand – previously tapping along the marble counter – halted and I stared at the stream coming off my beverage in hopes it would respond in my stead. A small “not exactly” floated about in my head, but my vocal cords dared not let it out. Having moved on would be incorrect and admitting it would leave my pride with a dint in it.

“Only technically,” I returned slowly, aware of the fact the intern traced every movement I made in wait for my insecurities to slip past the collected mask. I thought I had begun to move on from Eren because he hadn’t occupied my thoughts as incessantly around my birthday, but then Levi reverted to his ignorant ways and left me spiralling, rethinking the improvement I might or might have not made during our little vacation. Two weeks later, I didn’t know what to think anymore. I wouldn’t like confessing I felt too proud to fix my relationship with the ebony-haired intern because we hadn’t had a proper conversation in so long I couldn’t remember the last time he’d said more than five words to me in a row.

“I think you and whatever-his-name-is looked pretty comfortable.” And here, of course, came the sentence containing more than five words. His nonchalant behaviour made me wary of everything I said and did, to the point I wasn’t even angry that he’d pretended not to remember Adam’s name after I’d happened to mention it a few times last week. All my coherent thoughts included Levi’s opinion on the almost-kiss, so, as the genius I was, I rushed into explaining the situation and how I had absolutely nothing to do with the supposedly romantic atmosphere that had lingered in front of the house.

“We didn’t look comfortable because we were just saying goodbye and he decided to lean in and I went along with it,” I blabbered in a steady voice as the raven next to me snorted mockingly, drinking from his black tea without looking at me. I noticed the flex of his jaw when he gulped and the mild fidgeting of his fingers but pinned it to whatever topic was occupying his thoughts – most likely Petra because he acted similarly when she came up and he tried to repress things – before brushing it off altogether.

“There’s no need to give me excuses, princess. Kissing is normal when you like somebody.” He sounded bored but his eyes kept flickering in my direction as though seeking something – a particular little thing he wished to see. The first time he’d called me “princess” in the past three weeks and it had to be during this conversation – I wanted to use the marble beneath my cup to face-palm when I felt my own jaw clenching in mild annoyance. No, scratch that – mild anger sounded a lot better and more appropriate.

“So then we must really love each other, huh?” I returned with mocking spite, eyes meeting his only to observe how he refrained from spitting out a rude retort. His lips were pursed in obstination, as if to say that he wouldn’t humour this stupid comeback of mine, but I wasn’t exactly eager to hear his reply anyway. This was a mean joke but I could see it made both of us uncomfortable. We’d been acting almost like a couple before this whole Petra ordeal, safe for the kissing and… well, maybe we’d actually been acting exactly like a fucking couple and I saw a big problem in that.

“Very funny,” he droned flatly, sarcasm dripping from his lips as I licked my own before taking a sip from my tea and crossing my legs. Levi’s fingers were still fidgety but he seemed a tad bit calmer. “I told you it was duty.” The cold statement made my face pale in dread and spite all at once. Yes. He’d said that when I’d asked the truth of him. He wasn’t lying. He said he’d never lied to me – but that meant he hadn’t lied when he claimed he cared and yet he could’ve used several other methods to calm me down. So which was it? Duty or care? Both? Neither?

“It was duty, but you could’ve refused the last time,” I returned with a scowl, fingers wrapping around my cup as our eyes locked. Some months back, I would’ve considered his glare intimidating, but now I was just used to his limited supply of ways of expression. His thin eyebrow twitched in annoyance but he had no way of pretending my argument wasn’t truthful. Duty wasn’t strong enough to cover the benevolent fee of favours.

“You asked for it,” he countered coldly, eyes digging holes into my skull as my teeth gritted so hard I thought I might crack a few. I knew we’d come onto this kind of territory – the one I could only strive to avoid because I could under no circumstances explain to myself, much less him. I couldn’t side with my own actions – the only measly excuse I dared conjure up for myself was that my hormones had never been under my control around him and that was normal for a teenager coming face to face with an attractive individual, right? Supposedly. This natural attraction, however, I decided not to include in my defence.

“I gave you a choice and I don’t remember requesting a beaten-up from an MMA fighter makeover.” My voice was harsh and my glare was condescending as I shrugged my leather jacket off, letting the faded barely-there imprints of his teeth show in the light. The bruises had gone away relatively quickly – but these would stay for a few more days. Astounding how long they persisted. Levi’s eyes reluctantly traced the diminutive marks as I stared at him pointedly.

“Princess, you’ve been a real pain in the ass lately,” he grumbled tiredly but his hues were yet to leave the tiny red crescents on my shoulders – they kept prodding at my skin as I snorted spitefully and took a big gulp from my tea. It didn’t help me calm down and it certainly didn’t help the tension disperse. Actually, if it weren’t for this stupid tea, we wouldn’t be leading this conversation right now – all it had filled me with was unrefined discomfort and strident inward fits of anger.

“Stealing the words from my mouth as per usual, asshole.” I glared at him and my lips pursed to the point they turned into a straight line. My mind was going into overdrive because I was trying really hard to keep my mushy thoughts all to myself. No, I didn’t miss him and I didn’t miss his voice or his mockery or the way in which his gaze would sometimes dip lower than my eyes. I stared at his lips and the word “no” repeated in my mind as he eyed my shoulders thoughtfully. The most I could say was that he didn’t look displeased with his work.

“You’re looking at me like that,” he stated after a few silent seconds – my focus left the lower half of his face to meet his eyes. I licked my lips in nervousness, suddenly feeling very vulnerable, very bare and very impulsive. I wasn’t over Eren. I didn’t want to use him to achieve it. He had Petra. I had Adam. It seemed fair. It seemed fair but (kissing anybody else felt nearly impossible) it wasn’t. My head was full of popcorn. So much fucking popcorn it was ridiculous I could picture nothing else at all. Popcorn had never been bad. But each had their own bowl so why would I ask him to make a new batch for us to share? Fucking ridiculous.

“Like what?” I inquired cockily, making the most of my acting skills in this discouraging situation. As pissed off as I should’ve been (just a little bit, just a brush, just a taste) I felt deprived of the raven’s attention, thus desperately craving some sort of compromise. But a compromise would be like an overdose – which sounded good. Embarrassing in terms of future and consequences but good nonetheless. Popcorn sounded too good right now, even if he’d be giving it to me reluctantly. And I wouldn’t ask for it – so he would let his robotic duty decide for him.

“Like you want me to kiss you.” His brow twitched in something I recognised as annoyance. I gulped, struggling to keep my hands on the counter at this point of things. Every fibre of my being was screaming at me to lean over and punch his mouth with my own – and while that wasn’t a romantic way of expression, it described perfectly how I felt and how that would translate into actions. “You have whatever-his-name-is, remember?” The raven propped his elbows on the counter, eyes not leaving mine. The blue specks were smirking at me in the stead of his mouth.

“You’re reading into my expression way too much, asshole.” I reclined in my chair with a careless shrug. This wasn’t the time for (popcorn, for fuck’s sake, I want popcorn) my hormones to take over. The further apart our mouths were, the better. I had no idea what had possessed me but I doubted I’d enjoy the aftermath of acting like a reckless fucking idiot. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair – I could cope with doing it to my own. I wanted to see if I’d nailed the amount of honey I put in his tea – I could cope with making one for myself and checking. Simple as that. My hormones could back down freely now – or so I liked to think.

“Does that mean you don’t want me to kiss you?” He tilted his head curiously, leaning a bit closer as I bit back a sigh. A giant sign in neon purple shone inside my head, reading in capital letters a definitive “NO”. I uncrossed my legs and decided to participate in this little game of his – who’d get tired of playing seductive first. Surely him, since he was the one who was less likely to be actually considering kissing the person who annoyed them oh, so much on the daily.

“Does that mean you will if I say no?” My voice went from being calm to being smooth and sweet like honey, and my expression was the equivalent of mocking innocence. I didn’t know what he’d say but I knew he’d back off any second now. He wasn’t all too hard to predict when it came to practical matters. Losing would be practical right now – logical, too. And he was Mr Logic, after all. However, if somebody had warned me of what would happen, I would’ve laughed in their face and dismissed it as a lie.

“I’m tired of talking.” His growl was followed by the screech of his chair. His hands were on both sides of my face and I had no time to take a breath when his lips crashed against mine – soft and tea-flavoured as per usual. I sighed into the kiss as my body raised from its seat and my fingers clawed at his back for support. Then I was pinned against the counter and Levi’s tongue was doing wonders to my forgetful mind. I gripped the back of his shirt in my fists and pulled him closer, biting into his lip hard enough for it to hurt a bit. He, on the contrary, was rubbing circles over the leftover bite marks on my shoulders with his thumbs, as though to preserve them. I groaned when his hips pressed against mine and my nails were scratching at his undercut. I was struggling to breathe, but he acted like he had all the time in the world.

“I’m so mad at you right now,” I huffed amid sloppy kisses as we pressed our bodies so close there was no space for air between them. He was warm and his lips were soft, and the way in which he huffed when I tugged on his hair drove me crazy.

“I can feel it,” he returned flatly, casually reminding me of the aggression with which I’d reciprocated. I could’ve glared but this felt like I’d been in the middle of a heavy withdrawal and I’d finally gotten a taste of my addiction. My reserve had long run out and my manners had joined. Levi was leaving pecks all over my face, partly mocking my eagerness to respond to his earlier kiss. I couldn’t care less – my cheeks were red and every spot his lips touched was warm and tingly. Except I wanted that sensation on my mouth, not my forehead right now. So I cupped his face and pulled him down, making him hum against my lips as my body curved into his in want. His fingers were on my waist, gripping and creasing my shirt, and keeping me painfully close.

“You’re acting like an asshole,” I muttered weakly after his mouth had left mine and then I could sense him biting back a chuckle when his lips brushed against mine, once, twice, three, then four times. I was getting dizzy and my heart was beating out of my ribcage. I needed to remind myself this was just physical attraction, just hormones – and I was too proud to showcase them often but that didn’t mean I’d renounced their existence altogether, which meant I was naturally inclined to respond to each and every kiss he was willing to initiate.

“I know,” he breathed before I tugged him down again, fingers burying in his locks in a desperate attempt to keep him close. I was, quite literally, euphoric. Finally, something that made me feel better and safe. I sighed as his lips kept brushing against mine gently, just barely, in such a frustrating manner my hands twitched in his hair. I wanted a longer kiss, I wanted him to bite me, suck on my neck, fucking prevent me from wearing a top with cleavage for the rest of my life if he so wished. This was completely and utterly intoxicating and I could feel it implacably shake my resolve to stray from such heat-of-the-moment impulses come to life. The fact he’d been the one to initiate it was astounding. And that thought made me hum against his mouth when I felt his fingers tighten their grip on my waist possessively.

Then, there were footsteps on the second floor. My blood froze and Levi stilled against me.

“(Y/N), are you home?” I heard my mother’s voice, closely followed by the closing of the bedroom door upstairs. I pushed at Levi’s shoulders and hastened to put my jacket on. I was red and struggling to catch my breath as the raven sat back in his chair, putting a hand to his mouth and gripping his cup of tea with the other. I grabbed my own and hastily fixed my hair as my feet rushed towards the staircase.

“Yes, mom,” I replied in a squeak, rushing past her in the direction of my room. “I just made myself tea. I’ll be going out with Annie tomorrow. Good night.” I slammed the door behind my back before she could respond. I sincerely hoped she hadn’t seen my face glowed as bright as a red traffic light in the middle of the night. I leaned against the door and my feet slid across the parquet floor until I was sitting on it, slumped limply with wide eyes and a conviction that my heartbeat was loud enough for all occupants of the house to detect.

A few seconds passed like that before I went to my bed in a haze, leaving my cup on my nightstand, kneeling on the floor, grabbing my pillow and burrowing my hot face in it. Then, well, then you could guess what happened. Or maybe not. I myself was not quite aware the high-pitched ecstatic scream had left the restriction of my mind and slipped past my lips until complete silence reigned once more. I didn’t know what made me so ecstatic – I only knew it felt good to let it out and relish it for a bit.

A bit was all I allowed myself, since my thoughts for the next fifteen hours were occupied only with circumstances and consequences. Annie cocked a thin blonde brow at me the next day, but I didn’t notice it, too indulged in my inner monologue on the topic of Levi and Petra. There was something fishy going on there. If they loved each other as much as Hanji made it appear, why had he kissed me? Was it possible he was trying to distract himself, too? That he still thought me a replacement and all that duty talk was bullshit?

The inquiries seemed to affect my otherwise good mood, but I’d known from the start I was fucked up emotionally and any Levi interjection would make things even worse. All in all, I was aware of what I was getting myself into. It would come to bite me in the ass, of course. Despite that awareness, my rational side had been told by selfish little me to fuck off for some time and let me enjoy my youth. I was smiling and humming to myself, not to mention being selfish for wishing to keep being that way at the price of not acting like my usual self. Annie seemed to notice that, despite her own relatively good mood which should’ve made her a bit less observant.

“You’re literally glowing. Something good happen?” She checked our surroundings and asked that only after making sure Erwin and Hanji were still busy in the store behind us. I shrugged but hid the lingering presence of yesterday’s ecstasy while saying “not much”. My arms were draped over both sides of the bench my friend and I occupied when she raised an eyebrow at me and the smallest of creases settled in the middle of her pale forehead. “That translates as a shit ton when it comes out of your mouth.” It certainly seemed to as of recent. “So?” She prompted, curious and suspicious at the same time.

“Adam walked me home and wanted to kiss me yesterday, but Levi ruined the moment and we had our first conversation in a while,” I explained casually, feeling a disturbing itch under the ring on my left hand. Annie was positive this wasn’t all that had happened and as to not keep her waiting, I resumed without her encouragement. “We started bickering as per usual and then… he kissed me.” I glanced down and the smile was tugging on the corners of my mouth. Annie gaped at me in shock. The realisation that yes, Levi had kissed me, yes, he’d made the first move and yes, I hadn’t done as much as ask for it, stirred something inside my chest in a weird way. Not to mention the fact he’d gone back to normal – three raps at my door to wake me in the morning, a coffee waiting for me on the counter and a flat comment that put my groggy mental abilities to the test.

“Excuse me?” My best friend was looking at me like I’d told her about an alien invasion – crop circles in my backyard, not having enough time to cut off the transmission by wrapping my head in foil wrap and all that jazz – not a kiss between me and my father’s intern. And in spite of that, I couldn’t bite back the wondrous smile anymore – because the “princess” he’d dropped during breakfast consisting of pancakes he’d gotten up extra early to make made me somewhat happier than the kiss itself.

“Yeah. My mom almost caught us and this morning we were back to normal. I can’t believe it.” I met Annie’s processing gaze and played with my fingers with a small hopeful gleam in my eye. I was like a five-year-old having met the Tooth Fairy in a dream. I didn’t want this fragile fantasy ruined for me.

“So he suddenly went back to joking and calling you ‘princess’ just because you kissed?” Annie’s slow inquiry made me believe the careful enunciation of each word was due to the fact she was not yet used to pronouncing everything in that exact order. I was on my way to answer positively when a voice called from over my right shoulder.

“Who kissed who?” Hanji piped from next to us, having exited the store unnoticed with Erwin trailing behind her. The tips of my ears flushed in embarrassment and I saw Annie’s colour drain from her face.

“Nobody kissed nobody,” I said with a steady voice, finding the idea of telling Levi’s friend about our kiss entirely unfathomable at the moment. Things between us were complicated, to put it mildly, and some exchange of saliva surely wouldn’t make that change. We weren’t exactly prone to sitting down and discussing matters calmly and straightforwardly. And I was quite sure we were both inept at being in tune with our feelings – even less willing to admit them if god graced us with the miracle of figuring out what was going on. Moreover, we looked light years away from thinking about becoming anything, which Hanji might hastily conclude in her shock. We weren’t compatible enough to be anything.

“I could swear you were talking about that,” she hummed thoughtfully, making my shoulders tense while Annie sighed. “Anyways, I’m so glad you’re with us today, (Y/N). We can use this time to get to know each other.” Hanji sat next to me when Erwin’s phone rang. Fearful of it being Levi, I observed my former teacher over my shoulder and my best friend, unfazed as could be, asked the brunette a question.

“Can you tell us embarrassing stories about shorty?” Her request made my lips purse as Hanji’s brown eyes gleamed while she clasped her hands together in evident glee. I was forced to turn around and ignore Annie’s knowing look – she thought she was doing me a favour. Well, if blackmail material was all this would be, I would sit through it. But if any mention of last time’s despondency showed in Hanji, I’d interject and change the topic instead of her. I wanted to know about that, yes. Just not from her.

“Oh, I have a ton of those! Okay, so one time during high school, you know I’m one year his senior, so I only heard the story from Farlan and Petra, but shorty was studying for some big exams and pulled four all-nighters, then overslept on the day of the exam. Petra told me he’d shown up thirty minutes late, still in his pyjamas, completely barefoot and almost taking the door off its hinges. They let him take it and he nailed it, sure, but we made fun of him for months and the high school hobbyist newspaper had a picture of him in it. I have it framed at home and Farlan brought him a pair of slippers because poor Levi cut his foot while running across town.” Hanji was chuckling in remembrance, Annie was biting back a snicker and I only huffed when Erwin cut in with a remark.

“Hanji, you know it’s not nice to embarrass Levi behind his back like this,” he reminded wisely from behind the bench, big hand over his phone’s speaker as the brunette pouted childishly.

“Come on, Erwin, don’t be a drag now, they’re friends.” She gestured in our direction while defending and we only exchanged a look of mutual complacency, knowing we’d officially won ourselves the “friend” pass. “Anyways,” Hanji hunched over like she was relating to us top-secret government secrets and we humoured the secretive behaviour by leaning forward and listening to her excited whispers, “this other time we got together during summer and I was buying the alcohol. Not discussing the process since that one’s blurry, but we ended up going to bed at sunrise. Levi had lost a bet earlier that day so he was wearing high heels the whole time and Petra had to hold him up whenever we walked. And when we woke up in the afternoon---“

“I should be going.” Erwin put a hand on the brunette’s shoulder, cutting the story short. All three of us looked up at the blond teacher and the reprimand shining in his blue eyes. “Hanji, you got what you needed from the store, so you can go home, too. (Y/N), Annie, I believe you can find your own way home?” The questioning rise of his thick brows stirred something within me – the old fighting spirit I’d forgotten during the past few months.

“We’re not five,” I sassed confidently while getting up from the bench and meeting the blond’s stern gaze. He seemed to notice what was about to go down – yet another quarrel, a classic that would obviously not cease, unlike the end of our career as high school students. To my biggest disappointment, the nostalgic tinge of the behaviour brought back memories of Eren. I pushed them down.

“You’re yet to become twenty-five either, Miss Raven,” the male reasoned calmly, with the authority of my teacher, which he no longer was. I realised it was one of the few things I missed about high school besides getting to see my friends on the daily. And so the old mental scoreboard was dusted off and rose from the ashes, waiting for an update.

“Thank you for the reminder, Mr Smith. Your mother often tell you that when you were our age?” I put my hands to my hips as the blond’s lips pursed in slight defeat at the comeback. His brown-haired friend put a hand to her mouth to muffle her laughter and my best friend only shook her head at the antics she was so used to. My victory was irrefutable and gratifying as I imagined the changing numbers on the scoreboard.

Mr. No-PDA-In-School-Miss-Raven: 389 My Highness: 340 Out Of A Total: 729

“Anyways.” Annie dispersed the defeat perched along her unofficial boyfriend’s shoulders by getting up and rounding it to get to him. Hanji and I, detecting the intentions of the action, exchanged looks of mutual “that’s some good romance shit” whilst acknowledging how much it had taken for our friends to get here. “I’m glad we spent some time together,” she muttered when he grasped her hand, making me squeal with delight internally. Oh, only if I had a snack to enjoy during the sweet display.

“And I’m sorry my job has to lessen it,” he added with disappointment while she gave him the smallest of smiles and stared into his eyes in that way we often see in movies. Thinking of it, there had been a time (not too far back) when I’d looked at Eren like that, too. Every second of each day, for months and years on end. The sight was nostalgic but not upsetting. Something in the middle – bittersweet in a good way, closer to familiar than to unpleasantly foreign. It was strange how the most insignificant of happy memories could make my eyes narrow sadly with their lost triviality.

“There’s always a next time,” Annie reassured wisely before the blond leaned down to plant a soft kiss to her forehead. She reddened a bit and seemed to be glowing, too, when she walked back to me and I stared at her with a wolfish grin. She was experiencing her first romance properly. The pining period was done – now she could relish in the joy I’d experienced for years and taken for granted. Just having somebody peck your forehead was a blessing when it came from the right person. Judging by their dynamic, he was the right person for her.

“You’re adorable,” I teased with a nudge to her shoulder before she straight-up punctured my ribcage with her elbow. I had time to groan prior to Hanji getting up and bidding us an enthusiastic goodbye with one of the biggest and most genuine grins I’d ever seen. We waved, but I was the only one smiling. Then Annie and I were heading to where I’d parked the Audi when she decided to return to the point we’d left behind.

“So, kiss?” I snorted at the inquiry and decided to disregard the fact I knew exactly what she meant for the sake of seeing her annoyed expression.

“No thank you, Ann. You’re not Levi.” I pouted weakly, making her elbow me again. I doubted my body would be able to take more of her violent behaviour, but it had held out for over a decade so far, so I hoped it would keep going for another one at least. Maybe, instead of wearing out, each harsh act would strengthen its immunity.

“Hilarious. I was talking about his sudden change of heart.” Annie rolled her eyes and I shrugged, unlocking the Audi. My best friend got in the front seat and I started the engine before resuming our conversation with a clueless hum. It felt good to have retrieved control of my facial muscles, otherwise I would’ve spent our discussion grinning like the love-sick high school girl I was far from becoming.

“And I was on my way of telling you I have no idea what triggered it. It’s not like the kiss acts as a switch that tells us how to act towards each… other…” I trailed off and the trail of words ended there while my eyes observed the front blankly like I’d been hit by the biggest epiphany of my life. My friend rolled her eyes and shook her head, an obtrusive feeling of annoyance overwhelming her mind at my dumbassery.

“Don’t you dare even think that it does,” she threatened, pinching the bridge of her nose as I slowly came to realise it did – because each kiss flipped the switch from cold to normal and I didn’t know what to do with that ridiculous piece of information.

“But it does,” I argued in flat wonder, driving down the main street and heading towards Annie’s home. The blonde looked tired of both me and life at that moment. Maybe a little more of me since this was the first time she’d had to deal with so much ever since William – but even then it hadn’t been like this. My relationship with Eren had never included the awkward “what are we feeling?” emotional crap because we’d been kids who’d thrown headfirst into something that had turned out manageable, but now that he was (over four thousand miles away – yes, I spent three hours calculating the distance) in Germany, there was no way for me or Annie to escape from these prosaic problems of mine if I wanted to move on. Still, she set out to argue I couldn’t possibly be serious, to which I only snorted. It had a warped logic of its own and I’d listen to it even if that meant my friend’s opinion on the topic of my intelligence would take a sudden leap off a very high imaginary cliff. “It makes sense, though. That means the next time we kiss, he’ll go back to being cold to me and---“

“(Y/N), kissing Ackerman doesn’t work as a switch for his behaviour,” Annie cut off curtly, making my mouth clamp shut in silent protest as I glared at the road ahead. We stopped at a red light and Annie’s glare was on my right temple, attempting to burn the words into my brain. “Say it.” Came the stern command.

“Kissing Levi doesn’t work as a switch for his behaviour,” I muttered weakly, making the blonde snort in satisfaction. My hesitation on the matter wasn’t so much a result of me being naïve but rather a result of me being very desperate to finally receive a plausible explanation regarding his emotions. Anything that made even the slightest bit of sense would work. “It adds up, though,” I whined helplessly while stepping on the accelerator once the traffic light turned green. Annie scowled and rolled her eyes, not daring to push my shoulder because I was driving. One of the perks of it, if I could say so myself.

“It’s just a coincidence,” she grumbled with a glare, tired of my dumbassery and how much I let it affect my words and actions. Truthfully, I wished I could be that dumb. I knew Levi was no lamp and there was no switch – like nothing was ever simply black or white. There were at least fifty thousand shades of grey before that, which, by the way, was nowhere near being properly portrayed in that borderline pornographic movie a year or two back in time.

“Then if I kiss him today and he goes back to being cold it’ll be another coincidence?” I challenged doubtfully, pursing my lips in defiance while Annie snorted in exasperation and crossed her arms. Her voice was gruff when she spat he wouldn’t turn cold, making me hum mockingly as I parked in front of her apartment complex. I didn’t believe it either but, of course, I needed some kind of proof and I was torn on the matter of obtaining it – kiss Levi and risk another Cold War or let myself be dumb and naïve, unlike what my parents had raised me to be. “And if he does?” I asked stubbornly, making Annie groan in utter defeat while getting out of the car and, holding a hand to the hood, leaned down with one last loving sentence.

“You’re really making me want to kill myself right now, (Y/N).” Her gaze met mine and I grinned, sensing somewhere behind the cold tone my dear Annie’s caring voice. She was worried – the sentence told me, and the voice she used agreed. Things were complicated enough as it was and she probably wished for me to keep out of any trouble that might ensue just when everything had begun gradually fading into that shade of “fine” she’d reassured me would at one point come back. But, then again, I was sure I could handle this one.

“I love you, too, Ann.” I chuckled as the blonde closed the car door with an abrupt click – another proof she wasn’t mad, just concerned and overreacting a bit. We both were. I watched her get into the building before driving off and spending the five-minute ride home in profound thoughts regarding our conversation. I’d mechanically got through the process of parking the Audi in the garage and entering the house through the kitchen door with a loud declaration of my presence: “I’m home!”

“Stop screaming,” Levi grumbled from the couch in the living room as my brows raised in slight wonder and I went to leave my shoes by the door. I stayed silent, to which the intern decided to give me a report of my parents’ locations. “Your father’s at the office and your mother’s out with friends.” Predictable enough. And he was here, dealing with papers at the coffee table. For a second, I pitied him – burdened with work my father was supposed to be handling – but knowing it was the one thing he hated most, I purposefully distanced myself from the emotion.

“And you?” I piped, bare feet padding over the parquet floor before smoothly sliding over the kitchen tiles. I opened the fridge with disinterest, feeling, strange as it might sound, more and more at home with the passing of each second. My mother and father absent on a weekend, leaving me all alone to deal with the house and whatever else I might think of. A silent living room, a quiet office, a dark art room and a bunch of dust waiting to be wiped – everything was so normal I didn’t even consider Levi’s presence a discrepancy. Not at all. It added a sense of company I’d come to enjoy to the space.

“Doing paperwork,” he answered shortly as I closed the fridge and leaned my back against its door. I’d done a considerable amount of thinking in the car on my way here and concluded a small experiment wouldn’t hurt – or, at least, not me. Seeing as Levi was currently benign and calm, I could test that and see if he’d go back to being cold without the help of a kiss. It was a risk because he could do just that, which would once and for all prove he was a human being I had no right to toy with. Still, everything in the name of science. Or, in this case, in the name of trying to unravel the intricate ball of string my father’s intern’s character was.

“I’m giving you a deal,” I began confidently, making him glance at me from his place on the couch as I rummaged in the cupboards for a cup and the black tea he liked. And while my hands busied with preparing his drink, my mouth explained the deal I had in mind with as much nonchalance as I could muster. “I’ll make you tea and – promise not to react drastically – you’ll tell me about Petra.” Having my back turned to him at that moment helped both of us in its own way – I didn’t get to see the kind of expression he wore and he didn’t get to see the hesitant furrow of my brows.

“I thought we agreed---“

“No, asshole,” I cut off with a pointed look, slamming closed the cupboard where the honey was, “we just argued a lot and didn’t talk for a long while afterwards. I can count the times we’ve agreed on something on my left hand – and this wasn’t one of them.” My tone had grown a bit colder but Levi couldn’t argue because I was right – there had been no agreement because agreement required discussion and discussion required calm statements supported by legitimate arguments. None of those had taken place. The raven’s defeated sigh was the only thing I needed to hear to understand his benevolent mood was yet to be shaken.

“On one condition – don’t say I didn’t warn you wouldn’t like it.” A minute-long pause had preceded the statement. Just in time for his tea to be done. I put a hand to my heart to reassure Levi I took full responsibility – in a joking manner nonetheless – for what I was about to hear and how it would affect me.

“Promise. My fault if I get scarred for life.” A small smirk pulled at the corner of my lips as I fixed his tea according to his taste and waited for it to cool down a bit before sauntering towards the coffee table with the steaming beverage in hand. I pushed aside the stacks of papers sitting on the glass surface and took their place, he took the cup from my hold and wrapped his fingers around it with a sigh while I made myself comfortable in my spot, knees bumping into his during the process. Neither seemed to react but I did sense the way in which he stood a tad bit straighter afterwards. And when my expectant gaze dug into his eyes, he sighed once more.

“Petra Ral was the prettiest girl I’d seen in my life. She was kind and her smile shone. She was my girlfriend for three years and my fiancé for one.” The three flat sentences he started with sounded almost painful to pronounce. His brows were furrowed and his lips were pursed, grey eyes pinned to the steam coming off his cup. I, on the other hand, found myself in a deep state of shock.

None of this makes sense, asshole-me protested heatedly inside my head, why did he kiss you if he’s engaged? Why did he kiss you at all if it was like that from the start? I had to pretend it didn’t affect me, but it did. Was this infidelity? Had both of us been unfaithful to our respective significant others? There was a woman out there whose man I’d kissed – that was the furthest thing from fine this whole situation could’ve provided me with, for fuck’s sake.

“You’re getting married?” I sounded like a toy running out of batteries and my throat felt like it was stuffed to the brim with sandpaper. My eyes were wide and my jaw was slack but something was gripping my heart. It hurt a bit. The raven inhaled deeply, gaze not daring to leave the safe haven of the beverage in his cup for fear he might see something he wouldn’t like. Or so I thought – because he surely wouldn’t want to face the girl he’d been kissing behind his fiancé’s back. I hadn’t thought Levi a cheater – ever – and something, in spite of the connected dots here, still prevented me from thinking it.

“Was,” he underlined with a heavy voice. He almost sounded guilty. My brows furrowed in confusion and I watched him take a sip from the tea I’d made before starting to – astoundingly enough – babble. I hadn’t heard him babble before. Not once. “She wanted a spring wedding. She said the cake would be giant despite the fact we wouldn’t have many guests. We had decided on a humble ceremony, mostly because neither had the expenses for a grand one. My mother wanted a grand one. We had no time to clear the details but I know she would’ve wanted a chocolate cake.” The sentence came to an abrupt end as his grey hues stared at the rim of his cup blankly. It was that lost look again – appearing for the first time in what felt like ages. I felt the temperature drop and my chest hurt for some reason.

“What happened? You obviously love each other. I mean, planning a wedding and all. Did you---“

“I didn’t do anything to make her stop loving me,” his brief glare cut off my bewildered interrogation, “but we aren’t getting married because of me. Because I was a fucking idiot and I didn’t---“ He cut himself off and I saw him choke on (guilt, pain, panic, regret) something as the words died at the back of his throat. He took a second to swallow it before continuing in a much calmer but shaky manner. He didn’t look at me once even when his hand reached to leave the tea on the table next to me. “I didn’t fucking think about it. I didn’t know. Things like that don’t happen every day,” he defended weakly, as though talking to himself, answering questions of his own – and it made my face contort in immense puzzlement.

“I don’t get it,” I said weakly, hands clutching the edge of the table in helplessness. I couldn’t understand this if he didn’t explain it to me and every sentence out of his mouth was a set of new questions pushing at the back of my throat. Levi got a hand through his hair with a sigh and I noticed the spiteful clench of his jaw. He was forming the proper sentence or so I thought – then he blurted out the small piece of information that made everything fall into place in less than a second.

“When you met shitty-glasses and she mentioned Petra, she did it in the past tense for a reason.” It was then he met my eyes for the first time since the beginning of this conversation – except I wasn’t looking at him. I was looking past him, at all the mistakes I’d made, everything I’d said, and reflecting on how it had affected him every single fucking time. “Petra’s dead, princess. She’s been dead for nine months now.” The final statement was a sledgehammer digging a nail deeper when the plank had already cracked under the pressure. Now it split in two and I split with it.

Maybe I’d hoped for him to say something else. Say I hadn’t been bringing up his dead fiancé and talking about her without the respect she deserved, say I hadn’t screamed at him for protecting his privacy, say I hadn’t treated her death as an article in a newspaper, say I hadn’t reprimanded him for holding onto somebody dear to him he’d lost, say I hadn’t kissed him without his consent without caring at all what he felt, say I hadn’t urged him to have sex with me when, in fact, he was still in love with a person whose death he was learning to cope with. He didn’t say it. Any of it. Because I’d done all those stuff and I was a selfish person who held no regard for what others felt even when I treasured them. Two words – that much was enough to make me the villain.

“Oh, fuck, I’m so sorry.” My brows furrowed and my voice was pleading, begging him to forgive me. Forgive me for all the misplaced prejudice and all the disrespect, forgive me for being a spoiled child who cared not for his emotions, forgive me for taking advantage of his kindness to this extent, forgive me for being terrible and selfish, and the slightest bit of jealous. Hate me, curse me, slap me, ignore me – just please forgive me. Forgive me for being me, please.

“Save it,” he cut off with a nonchalant whisk of his hand. “I knew you’d react like this.” I couldn’t look at him – it would hurt to look at him. I was brought to my knees, eyes brimming with regret. Fearful of touching him, my hand gripped the edge of the couch instead. My fingers racked through my hair in exasperation. I was frustrated with myself – angry with myself, entirely livid. I needed him to make us even – using anything at all – and the fact he treated this with such triviality made my throat constrict.

“No, you don’t get it, I had no idea and… and I was acting like a complete bitch, oh God, and all the shit I did… I’m so sorry. I---“ Pauses and pathetic half-assed whimpering – such a decadence. I was a pitiful sight and the ring on my finger was the most disgusting thing I’d laid my eyes on. Hastily tearing it from my sweaty finger, I put it on the ground and my forehead hit the couch’s cushions. Incoherent regretful muttering was all that left my lips, constantly, incessantly, ruthlessly.

“Calm down,” the raven advised softly and I felt his warm palm rest on top of my head gently, like I would break if he made one wrong move. The incoherent chanting ceased and he snorted as I repetitively bit on my bottom lip for fear it might tremble. His fingers gingerly urged me to face him. When I did, I felt like I would cry. I couldn’t breathe. “I shouldn’t have told you,” he reproached himself boredly, grey hues locked with my (e/c) gaze. The crease between my brows was deep and I shook my head, opening my mouth to protest.

“I can’t believe I’ve said and done so much stuff when you’re still…”

Still in love with every bit of her.

“Not in love with her, no,” he finished for me softly, reading my thoughts to the point it made my gaze avert. His head shook in defiance and I uncertainly stared up at him like a loyal dog attempting to understand its owner’s foreign language. “Just with the memory, I guess. Everything is fine. And it’s getting better, as shitty-glasses told you,” he finished thoughtfully, a small spark going off in his hues. Unfortunately, I was too distraught to pay attention to its candid brightness – or to the warmth of his palm, cupping the side of my face. Then the switch played its part – I grabbed his wrist and tried to distance myself from his touch.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be---“

“Shouldn’t be what?” He grabbed my shoulders and cut me off coldly, eyes prodding at my resolve. I was frantic and hasty, maybe unreasonable and incoherent – the only missing thing were the tears. Agitation, frustration and dejection stood perched on my shoulders – I didn’t want to burden him with any more worries than he already had. The oblivious way in which he questioned me just aided in fueling my self-deprecation, but it didn’t take away from my menacing haste.

“Comforting me, kissing me, hugging me – anything at all, duty or not. Shit, this makes me feel terrible.” I tried to push his hands away once more but his fingers held my shoulders tightly, not inclined to buckle. I couldn’t think properly. I was sure in a world where I wasn’t raised by Rolland Raven, I would’ve cried like a newborn out of humiliation. I was too proud to do that now – too proud to burden Levi with it yet again and too proud to be vulnerable right now. But I was terrible, too. I was terrible again when I told myself I never wanted to be.

“I’m not comforting you, princess.” His slow pointed argument made me gulp as I gnawed on the inside of my cheek in hesitation. It presupposed he was comforting himself using me – that much would’ve been fine if it hadn’t been a lie. This was that duty coming in again – to reassure me when I was unstable. “So…” He trailed off expectantly, slowly letting go of my shoulders and opening his arms instead. I watched his eyes for a moment, thinking at least the blue specks wouldn’t lie to me – the guilt was great but even greater was the instinct to accept the embrace with an apology muttered into his chest. I’d been terrible to him all this time. “Stop apologising,” he reproached flatly, soothingly running his fingers through my hair.

“You were right,” I chuckled weakly, clutching the back of his shirt, “I don’t like this. It makes me really selfish,” I concluded gravely, biting back yet another “sorry” as he hummed and attempted to calm my erratic emotions. I could smell his lavender shampoo and his cologne and, for some reason, rain. Like the day on which we’d met.

“Look up,” he instructed lowly, fingers gently prying my visage away from his calming scent and positioning it so I could meet his gaze. Another wave of guilt hit me before he spoke. “Not your fault, whatever you’re thinking about. Everything’s fine. Just don’t let Hanji know I told you,” he warned half-heartedly, making my lips purse as a small snort escaped my nose.

“You won’t get angry at me now then?” I inquired hopefully, though, as a punishment, I inwardly wished to receive a very curt denial. I wanted him to do something to fight fire with fire – not be this kind and dutiful after everything I’d done. My thoughts drifted away as I watched his pale countenance and the odd conclusion they drew (a wedding) was that he could’ve been married by now. Or maybe not now. Maybe next spring. Maybe next spring he would’ve worn a nicer ring and it would’ve meant something. Next spring, somebody could’ve made him happy.

“No,” he denied flatly, making my shoulders slouch in something I could call neither relief nor disappointment. A bit of both maybe. But my mind was lost. A wedding – the imaginary ride continued as I pondered my next move – and Petra would’ve been dressed in a beautiful white dress (the prettiest girl he’d ever seen) and he would’ve been in an ironed tuxedo, standing at a church altar and watching her walk down the aisle. Watching her and seeing nothing else, and the blue specks would’ve glimmered brightly – no lost looks whatsoever. Levi would’ve been dashing, maybe smiling. A happy, smiling Levi. Would he have smiled at his wedding? Surely. Surely he would’ve hidden it as well. A happy, smiling, married Levi.

“Even if...” Air ended then. The rest of this I shouldn’t speak. Because the notion of kissing hurt and this wasn’t about the switch – it hadn’t been about the switch, it had been about his emotions and I’d gotten an estimated account of those, so I needn’t fuck this up. Another mistake was forbidden, so my mouth clamped shut before the end of the sentence arrived. And still, almost like he’d read my thoughts, his fingers twitched over my cheek. And when I didn’t finish, he didn’t urge me to. I thought he wouldn’t figure it out – that we’d draw this topic to a close. But he wasn’t letting go and I wasn’t standing up.

“Yes, I won’t get angry at you even if.” And just like that, he knew what the end of my inquiry would’ve been like. The gentle nimbleness with which he held my neck craned up so I could face him properly made my lips purse. And then he was leaning in. His locks tickled my forehead and my temples and his mouth rested on mine – barely any pressure, like I would break otherwise. I defended I wasn’t a porcelain doll on the inside, but hadn’t the heart to protest aloud. It was a soft kiss and despite his composure, I could feel both of us couldn’t quite stop our hands from trembling in the slightest.

After we parted, I could feel his nose brush against mine. I buried my face in his chest in shame and went on to apologise for the entirety of a whole minute afterwards. Levi huffed in amusement, lips resting against my scalp when I heard a weak muffled chuckle escape them. It took me five minutes to let go of him and when I did, I felt his fingers seize my wrist. I watched him lean down and take my ring from the floor, then he slipped it back on my finger with an expression I couldn’t read at all. Not lost, that I knew for sure. I spent the rest of the afternoon leaning against his side, helping him with paperwork. Neither uttered a word but I could tell what we were thinking. Everything was fine. Yes, but the version in my head had a small “not” before the end.

tag list: @unloved-cadillac ; @donaldthrts

#mtij #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman fanfiction #reader insert #snk x reader #welp here we go #the big secret is out #honestly idk if i put enough foreshadowing for it to work or not #either way now most of the cards are on the table #but don't worry there's still like... 13 chapters to go because our girl is real good at miscommunication and jumping to conclusions #levi is a king when it comes to being good and kind FIGHT ME YOU WON'T WIN #and annie is equally precious in every chapter so yeah

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dreamcatcherrs · 4 years ago

Note

a high school prom au where the reader and Dream are like childhood best friends and the readers date shows up with someone else then when the reader feels all lonely, Dream is like “what if we danced🥺” ??? anyways love you and your fanfics you’re like my favorite writer on tumblr💖💘

+ this is such a cute concept! I’ve never written anything like this, but I hope it was what you wanted<3

++ also this is such an old request, I’m so sorry

prom night - dream

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: high school au! dream x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after being abandoned by your prom date, the person you expected the least to spend the night with asks you for a dance.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1.501

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, fluff, swearing, slight mention of alcohol use.

song recommendation: love on the brain - rihanna

you couldn’t believe your eyes.

there your date stood, arm wrapped around a person that you for sure knew wasn't you. the excitement disappeared from every corner and edge of your body, hands falling to your sides in complete disappointment.

proudly, your so-called date stepped forward in line with a smile on their face, waiting to be the next for the photo shoot the had been set up. your smile was gone. and so was your passion for continuing this prom.

looking down, you turned on your heels, walking away from the great asshole of a date, and finding an empty seat by one of the available tables.

you’d wondered why it took so long for your date to arrive - you should’ve known, really. but no - now you were just left sitting alone by an empty table. what was the point of even being there anymore when all you could feel was loneliness?

everyone else was having fun, partying and smiling about the night ahead of them - just like you should’ve been. but now, you were just left with feeling disappointed in yourself. how could you make yourself believe that someone actually wanted to bring a date like you to the prom? what were you thinking?

you sighed deeply as you rested your head in the palm of your hand, other hand busy with tracing the cutouts on the table.

“just go over there, man!”

“yeah, they’re just sitting there all alone… this is your perfect chance!”

clay scratched the back of his head, staring down at the drink in his hand.

“I don't know… what if they say no?”

george and nick both rolled their eyes. the only one who really believed that was gonna happen would be clay. it was crystal clear to literally everyone else that the two of you had developed feelings for each other over the many years of knowing one another. clay would always brush it off with a “we’re just friends”, but really, he knew they were right.

he’d known you since he was 8 and you 7 - having been best friends since that day and until last year. you'd kinda… broken off since then. as you grew older, more important things had distracted you from keeping the connection, and eventually, you just slipped away.

he knew he liked you as more than a friend. but he was certain you didn't.

after all, you wanted to go with a complete dickhead, who ditched you anyway. and now look where you were.

“hey guys~ why are you wasting the night just standing here? let’s party!” karl slurred as he came crashing into george and nick, swinging both arms around their shoulder from behind.

as george was busy pushing karls’ arm off of him, and nick pulling him closer, clay’s eyes were only focused on you. you looked so… sad. no one should be sad on their prom night, and frankly, maybe his friends were right.

before he knew it, his feet dragged him across the dance floor, towards your place on the chair. george’s eyes widened, a big smile spreading across his face, showing off his braces.

“would you two stop flirting with each other and watch what is happening right now?”

nick and karl giggled.

“why, are you jealous gogy?” nick teased, causing a light shade of pink to brush across george’s cheeks.

“shut up-”

“hey.”

the second you broke away from your melancholy stare at the table, your heart started racing and a wave of sweat danced across your skin. he hadn't talked to you since… you couldn’t even remember the last time.

lifting your head off your hand, you sat up straight, watching as clay scratched the back of his neck nervously.

“hi,” you responded, voice quiet and unsure.

why was he talking to you all of a sudden? after all these months with absolutely no contact with each other, now he wants to talk to you? on the other hand, it’s not like you'd been very communicative with him either…

clay hesitated slightly, shifting on his feet. “why are you sitting here all alone? I thought you had a date?”

you sighed, corner of your lips turning down slightly. “yeah… they ditched me.” you looked away from him, feeling somewhat embarrassed that you'd let yourself get into a situation like that.

clay felt bad. how could someone let go so easily of someone as perfect as you? on the other hand, this meant that no one else could have you - and that made him kind of relieved.

he hesitated a little before speaking up again; “what a dickhead.”

that made you laugh a little. “yeah.”

silence approached after that, and a tension started building up. the both of you could feel the unspoken words you'd been keeping from each other rise up - yet you remained quiet.

after all, there wasn’t really anyone you could blame your fading friendship on - apart from yourselves.

clay cleared his throat, as a new, slower song came on, hand reaching out in front of him, hovering right before you. your eyes trailed along his tux-clad arm and up to his eyes, noticing the withheld love in them.

“do you wanna dance with me?”

you blinked at him, thankful that the fluorescent lights made it hard for him to see the blush on your cheeks. your heart felt as if it was pounding out of your chest.

“I-,” you stuttered, recollecting yourself quickly before placing your hand into his, fitting perfectly right into his palm. you smiled up at him softly. “I’d love to.” he smiled back to you, gripping onto your hand and lead you through the large crowd of people onto the dance floor.

he turned to you, taking in how absolutely breathtaking you looked right then. it was hard for him not to blurt out compliments at you at any given chance.

his hands found their place on your waist, and you let your hand snake around his neck, resting right where his haircut ended. it tickled him in a way that made him realise just how much he had missed your touch - hell, even talking to you reminded him of how lonely he’d felt without you.

slowly, the two of you swayed from side to side along to the song, just staring into each others eyes. clay sneaked a glance down at your lips, quickly averting his eyes again once you parted them.

“I’m really sorry we haven’t talked for so long,” you spoke, twirling a finger around one of his locks. “I miss it a lot. I missed you, clay.”

you stared at him with a look of guilt, biting down on your bottom lips once you'd finished your sentence. you looked down again, feeling sorry that you hadn't reached out to him before.

clay moved a hand to your cheek, tilting your head upwards so you'd look at him again. your eyes widened at the touch of his fingers, and you melted into his hand once his thumb bushed across the soft skin of your cheek.

“I missed you too, y/n. don't be sorry about that - I could’ve reached out too, y’know? we’re both guilty on that note. but, now that I can finally talk to you again, I don't wanna worry about the past, okay? I just want you to have a good night.”

you smiled softly at his words, feeling a wave of forgiveness wash over you. it felt good to know that you had your friend back again.

“I don't think my night can be ruined at this point,” you smiled, moving your hands from his nape to his shoulders instead.

“well, can I still make it a little bit better?” you raised an eyebrow at him, cocking your head to the side slightly.

his eyes fell down to look at your lips again, this time not being able to hold back from the temptation.

your lips attached to his.

and everything around you just stopped.

your eyes fluttered closed, leaning into the kiss once you realised what was happening, only making him pull you closer to him. his lips moved so gently, slowly against yours, a withheld desire finally being released.

who cared about the things that’d gotten in the way of your friendship? all that mattered right now was this very moment - that’s all that ever mattered.

“yes clay!”

“finally he fucking did it.”

the yelling coming from karl and nick from a distance away made the two of you break away from each other, turning your heads to the direction of them. george elbowed nick in the stomach to stop him from jumping into the air, revealing their spying spot.

you chuckled lightly at them, slowly turning your head back to clay with a lick of your lips. clay sent them a nice “fuck off” with his middle fingers, before also returning to the current situation and smiling at you widely.

“better now?”

you smiled wider at that. if only he knew.

______________________________________

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crushed-like-an-ant · 3 years ago

Text

how to calm down an angry billionaire

Step 1. Deflect.

Peter was good at deflection. Always had been. It was a skill he'd picked up after people constantly tried to ask him about his feelings after his parents died, then again when Ben died. Any questions he didn't want to answer quickly turned into an animated conversation about whatever his mind thought of first (there had been that awkward time he'd asked a fellow orphan how their parents were), an apology and fast excuse to get the hell out of there (mostly worked except when he was panicking and the best he could come up with was a cheese making competition, that had caused a lot of questions Peter would rather never deal with again), or just flat out running away (sometimes he ran into poles or walls which was always a bit embarrassing given he was literally Spider-man). Sometimes Peter had to use all three options. So Peter knew when Tony finally decided to have the dreaded conversation about the whole not-my-first-time-holding-up-a-building thing, he would be able to deflect it. Or so he thought. Turns out, Peter had drastically underestimated the sheer stubbornness of Tony Stark.

It was a lab day, around three weeks after the incident where Peter and Tony had been stuck under a building and Peter stupidly let slip that he’d held up a building before. Peter had thought Tony had forgotten about his words. He was comfortable, tentatively confident and optimistic that it wouldn't be brought up again. He had no idea how wrong he was.

"Hey kid?" Tony said, cutting the comfortable silence between them as they worked, tone slightly hesitant. Peter should've picked up on it. He should've realised. But he'd grown complacent. So Peter ignored the dread pooling in his stomach and lifted his head from the mess of wires in front of him to look at Tony.

"Mr Stark?" he replied with a smile that Tony didn't return. Nor did he try to tell Peter to call him Tony. And that was how Peter knew something was wrong. Nerves skittered down his spine, clod fingers of dread snaking around his neck as nervous energy filled him and he began to tap on the desk. Anything to distract himself from the sorrow and worry shining in his mentor's brown eyes.

"Look kid, uh, I," Tony fumbled for words. Shit. This was bad. If Tony Stark was struggling to say something, you knew it was serious. Peter just stared at him in silence,unsure of what to say, anxiety coursing through his veins at the grimace that clouded Tony's features. What could possibly have gotten him into this mood? Had Peter done something wrong? Was he gonna, oh god, was he gonna take the suit? "Pete, I need to know what you meant when we were under the building," Tony finally managed to say, Peter relaxing. Oh. That was all?

"I just meant that I'd lifted a lot of heavy things," Peter half-lied, looking Tony straight in the eyes and lying to his face, mindful to make sure his tells were carefully under control. Training with Daredevil - despite Tony's misgivings about Double D - had been one of the best decisions Peter had ever made. He felt a twinge of guilt as he lied to Tony but it's not like he could tell the truth. And he wasn't really lying. Just withholding the entire truth. He shrugged nonchalantly, "Anyways, you reckon you can help me with this? I'm stuck. My mind kinda decided to go and die on me." Peter chuckled quietly. Tony wasn't laughing.

"I want to believe you, kid," Tony told him, "I really do. But I can't. You had a panic attack under there. What aren't you telling me Peter? Whatever it is, I'm here for you. You can tell me anything. And I don't want to pressure you into telling me anything until you're ready but I-I just-I need to know what happened. I need to know what you meant." Peter's resolve almost broke as Tony's voice broke. No. He couldn't tell Tony. Not only would Tony think he was weak, but Peter knew that Mr Stark would blame himself because he took the suit. Peter couldn't let him do that. Option one had failed him, so it was onto option 2. Make a quick exit without raising any suspicions. Yeah, he didn't think that was gonna work. Worth a shot though.

"Hey, Mr Stark," Peter said after checking his watch and pretending to look shocked at the time, "I'm really sorry but I have to go. I promised Ned we'd work on our Bio project tonight and I'm already seven minutes late." Mr Stark raised an eyebrow and pulled up a picture of Ned on his holiday in California.

"Nice try kid," Tony replied drily. Peter sighed, shoulders slumping. Time for option three then.

"I-I don't really know how to tell you, uh," Peter deliberately stuttered, guilt eating him up inside as he put on an act for Tony. For option three to work, Peter had to catch Tony off guard otherwise he'd react too quickly and lock the tower down. His act work, Tony's features softening and body relaxing.

"It's okay, bambino, take your time." And if that didn't make him feel like a horrible person, nothing would. Peter stood and padded over to some machinery near the exit, pretending to be trying to busy himself as he worked himself up to answering Tony when he was actually getting closer to the door.

"I, uh," Peter stumbled. Tony was now far away enough that Peter could easily run without being grabbed and stopped. The door was right there. Peter took his opportunity. He ran. Out the door, down the hallway, flying to the elevator. Pressing the button frantically, Peter groaned when nothing happened. Great. Tony had stopped the elevators. Sighing, Peter pulled the mask from his pocket and pulled it over his head, sprinting at the window. Peter burst through the window in a shower of glass, activating his web shooters as he fell, quickly shooting a web and catching himself. And he was swinging, swinging, swinging. Allowing himself to smile at his escape, Peter was unprepared when he was grabbed from behind by two cold metal hands. Thanks for nothing spidey sense. Tony flew a sulking Peter back through the broken window and into one of the meeting rooms, setting him down firmly in a seat. Peter crossed his arms, pouting as he pulled off his mask, Tony's Iron Man suit unfolding around him and the man stepping out, an unimpressed look painted across his features.

"You done deflecting yet?" Tony asked, a single eyebrow raised. Damn. Peter wished he could do that. Alas, no amount of practising in front of a mirror had ever given him the talent to lift one eyebrow and not look like a demented monkey. Time for a different strategy. Deflection had failed him. But Peter would not go down easy.

~~~

Step 2. Deny.

The unfortunate thing about this step was that Peter would always over-deny. He would deny everything or nothing. There was no in between. For example, he was once denying eating the last bit of chocolate and ended up accidentally telling May his name wasn't Peter and that he was an alien from outer space with a severe lettuce allergy. Don't ask. Peter really didn't want to relive that trauma. So although Peter always tried his best with denial, it never really worked out in his favour. Honestly, it was through sheer dumb luck that he managed to keep Spider-Man a secret from his friends and family for so long. It was probably some good karma that had been waiting for the perfect moment to help him out. It was a little late but hey, better late than never right?

"No," Peter blurted in a panic. Shock splashed across Tony's face as he folded his arms.

"Kid, you know you can tell me anything, right?" Tony told him gently.

"No," Peter exclaimed again, hurt painting the billionaire's face. "I mean, yes." Shitshitshitshitshit. Peter was an idiot. He had to deny everything - but not everything, Peter, remember the lettuce incident - so Mr Stark wouldn't find out. But Peter had always been shit at denial.

"Look, I know this is probably hard for you to talk about," Tony continued on, oblivious to Peter's internal panic, "but I won't judge you. I love you, bambino. You know that right? And I'll support you no matter what but I can't help you if you don't let me."

"No," Peter said. It was the only word he knew. Any more and he would have another lettuce incident or he'd end up rambling the truth. He couldn't do that. So his current vocabulary was limited to 'no', 'no', 'no' with a side of 'no'. Which wasn't suspicious at all. Totally.

"What the hell, kid?" Tony asked, mostly confused, slight irritation colouring his tone. Peter was hyper-aware of the thundering beat his heart was drumming to, the way Tony's slightly picked up when he said 'no', the sweat covering his body like a second skin. Tony's sigh sounded like a bomb to his sensitive ears, the sharp intake of breath before he spoke like a blaring alarm. "What did you mean when you said it wasn't your first time?"

"I didn't," Peter responded, brain not quite computing, "nothing happened." Tony's gaze narrowed. Shit. Was Tony going to take the suit if he didn't tell him? But Peter just couldn't tell him. He couldn't.

"Fucking hell Peter, just tell me dammit!" Tony exclaimed, running a hand through his messy brown hair in frustration. Peter knew - with the certainty that he knew his own name or the colour of his eyes - that denial had failed him. Time for Peter's next strategy.

~~~

Step 3. Stretch the truth.

When Peter's other strategies failed him, he turned to stretching the truth. It was simple really, just take the truth and dial it down from boiling hot to freezing cold and give it to the person on a silver platter with a charmingly innocent - and only slightly nervous - smile. Half-truths were easy to fool people with. Someone had said that the best lies were the ones based on truth. Peter couldn't remember who exactly had said that. He had never been very good with that sort of stuff, unlike MJ. So although stretching the truth was Peter's third option, he'd always been surprisingly good at it. People seemed to believe he was too innocent to be able to lie. Which was absurd because he'd spent ten years living with his Aunt and her terrible cooking and she still didn't know he hated her walnut date loaf.

"Okay," Peter conceded quietly and the rage slowly left Tony as he deflated like a balloon, looking smaller without all the fury. Peter sat down in front of Tony. "It was back in the fight with The Vulture and he threw a wall at me. I caught it and threw it back at him but he dodged it with his super awesome flying skills." Tony looked him straight in the eyes for a few seconds, Peter holding his gaze before Tony leaned forward.

"Cut the bullshit," Tony whispered, dangerously quiet, tightly compressed anger stemming from worry swimming in his brown eyes. "A wall wouldn't stay together if it was thrown, caught and thrown back. Even then, you wouldn't say it wasn't your first time while holding a building up unless you'd held up a fucking building already. And you wouldn't have a panic attack from holding up a building about something thrown at you. So stop lying to me, Peter Benjamin Parker." Damn. The full name. Peter released a heavy exhale, knowing he was beaten. He had to tell Mr Stark the truth.

"It actually was in the fight with the Vulture," Peter began, "so I wasn't lying about that. And I did have to catch a few walls." Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter's weak attempts at defending himself. "I went to his warehouse and he sent his flying suit at me. It wasn't particularly good at attacking 'cause it hadn't even touched me. I said that and Toomes told me it wasn't trying to." Tony inhaled sharply, clasping his hands together to stop them from shaking, Peter trying not to listen to how Tony's hands still hit each other gently. Enhanced hearing sucked sometimes. "He had directed the suit to take out all the supports in the building." Tony gasped, expression contorted into one of such extreme guilt and sorrow that Peter wanted to shelter Tony from the world for the rest of his days because goddammit he's seen too much and been through enough and couldn't the world just give him a fucking break for once? No one deserved one more than Mr Stark did.

"I took the suit," Tony whispered, voice thick with emotion, "I took the suit. It was your only protection, damn it, and I took the fucking suit!" Tony was yelling now, self-hatred and rage dancing in his wild brown eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, Mr Stark," Peter tried to tell him.

"How?" Tony scoffed, laughing bitterly, "How was this not my fault. I took the suit and you got hurt because of my mistake."

"It's okay, Mr Stark, you didn't know," Peter said.

"But I should've," Tony replied, "I should've known." Peter's features hardened, spine turning to steel. He wouldn't let Mr Stark blame himself for this. The blame was on Toomes and only on Toomes.

"Did you pilot the Vulture suit?" Peter asked firmly.

"What?"

"Did. You. Pilot. The. Vulture. Suit." Peter repeated, staring defiantly at Tony.

"No, of course not," Tony replied, slight confusion clinging to his features.

"And did you cause the building to fall?" he continued.

"No."

"Then it's not your fault," Peter told him simply.

"Kid, I shouldn't have taken the suit," Tony began, dropping his head into his hands. He opened his mouth to continue but Peter cut him off before he could say anything equally self-deprecating.

"Maybe," Peter allowed, "but then I wouldn't found out I was strong enough to get back up again. 'If you're nothing without the suit then you shouldn't have it'. You told me that. I thought the suit made Spider-man and I lost sight of what Spider-man really meant. God, I started out in a fricking onesie. That's what Spider-man represents. Not a hero with a multi-million dollar suit, but someone with nothing but their will to save others. Without you taking the suit, I never would've remembered everything Spider-man stood for.; With great power comes great responsibility. You gave me that tough love moment and I needed it. Now it's my turn to dish out some tough love for you." Peter took a deep breath. "You, Tony Stark, are being a fucking idiot. The blame of what happened in the past lies with Adrian Toomes, and Adrian Toomes alone. So stop this self-deprecating bullshit and use your fucking brain for once in your life. It. Was. Not. Your. Fault." Tony looked up at him, the self-hatred drained from his features, a slight smile adorning his lips which Peter returned.

"You're right, kid," Tony said, "when did you get this wise?"

"I've always been this wise, Mr Stark, I just wanted you to feel better about your lack of common sense," Peter joked, Tony chuckling.

"It wasn't my fault," Tony repeated. Peter tilted his head, confused at the strange undertone in Tony's voice only to see a fire lit in his caramel eyes. "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

And it was then that he knew he fucked up.

~~~

Step 4. Try some breathing exercises.

Peter had always been shit at breathing exercise. He just didn't have the patience for them. While he was breathing, someone could be getting raped in an alley, a shop could be getting robbed, or a kid could be getting beat up. So - despite the constant reminders to just try the damn breathing exercises for the love of god - Peter had never done anything of the sort. How could he? With his enhanced senses, it was impossible to relax. Would you be able to sit there and breathe while screams rang in your ears and sobbing pounded in your mind? Naturally, this meant that Peter wasn't the most experienced when it came to said breathing exercises. Maybe he should've practised. Life always had a funny way of throwing Peter in the deep end headfirst and tied to a ten ton weight and expecting him to swim. However, he had once read in a self-help book that breathing exercises were good for calming people down, so he decided to hit fuck it for the sixth time in the last 48 hours and try it out. I mean, it was that or release an angry billionaire in a metal suit decked out with the most advanced weapons in the world (except for maybe what HYDRA had because honestly Peter knew better than to underestimate them and he mildly respected their cockroach-like survival skills) who was hell-bent on revenge and gave zero fucks into the world. The second option was beginning to sound quite tempting, Peter would be honest.

"Mr Stark, you need to calm down," Peter told the man gently, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony tilted his head up to look at Peter - rage splashed across his face, tension lining his body - before he shrugged off Peter's hand and jerked into a standing position. And the room was suffocating, suffocating, suffocating, because damn had Tony always been that scary. A cloud of darkness surrounded Tony, filling the lab up and winding itself slowly around Peter's neck, stealing the breath from his lungs. Tony stormed through the lab, footsteps like thunder, anger crackling like lightning. Desperately, Peter followed the billionaire. "Mr Stark, Mr Stark, please calm down," Peter pleaded with him.

"No," Tony spoke, voice cold and flat, tone totally devoid of emotion, so totally opposite to the fury painting his entire body like a second skin. "No I will not calm down, Peter. He dropped a fucking building on you. He deserves to die."

"But you don't deserve to live with the guilt of killing him," Peter begged, tugging at Tony's sleeve in a desperate attempt to stop the man from his warpath. Peter knew he could easily overpower Tony. But he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. "Trust me, I know how it feels to want revenge, I really do, but you have to let it go. Please, Mr Stark."

"Dammit Peter, he hurt you!" Tony shouted, whirling around to face Peter, features twisted and manically furious. "He hurt you a-and I wasn't there and you had to deal with being crushed by a fucking building and then you got up and kept fighting because of that sick son of a bitch so I swear to fucking god I will murder him." Tony's eyes held a frenzied wildness in them, chest heaving up and down, Peter could hear his heart racing.

"Mr Stark, try some breathing," Peter said out of desperation, completely and utterly out of ideas. "Just breath. In and out, in and out." Tony's momentary surprise shocked him out of his anger, confusion flickering across his face momentarily before the anger was back, stronger than ever. Tony pivoted on his heel and walked away from Peter, heading towards where he kept his suits and leaving a heavy sense of dread pooling in Peter's stomach and twisting his insides in knots. So breathing hadn't worked. Thanks for nothing self-help books.

~~~

Step 5. Hack the most advanced AI in the world.

When in doubt, do something potentially illegal. A mugger had once told Peter that after Peter caught her trying to rob a young man. That lady had been fucking badass. It was honestly a shame she's gone to prison but a criminal is a criminal. Turns out the lady had been responsible for a string of high-end bank and jewellery robberies. Peter wondered how she was doing. Probably not well, considering how shit the American jail system is. Peter always tried to find alternative ways to stop criminals, only really sending in the pedophiles, rapists, murderers and the more professional robbers. Sometimes people had no choice in the shitty hand life had dealt them and goddamn if Peter didn't get that. People were just pushed and pushed until they were left with nothing but desperation. Maybe if the government or any of the fucking American systems were better or did their jobs properly then people wouldn't have to steal just to keep themselves and their families from starvation. Maybe Toomes wouldn't have started his alien tech business and then none of this would have even happened. Peter wouldn't be in this situation right now. And Peter was now out of options. He had an angry billionaire on his hands and absolutely no idea what to do. So, he took the lady's advice and decided to do something potentially illegal. He hacked the most advance AI in the world. (What, like it's hard?)

"Hey FRI?" Peter called with a wince.

"Yes, Peter," the AI replied.

"I'm really sorry," Peter told her before bringing up FRIDAY's code. (A/N - I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT COMPUTERS SO THIS IS GONNA BE SOME VAGUE, QUESTIONABLE AF HACKING) Fingers flying across the keys of the laptop, Peter bit his lip in concentration, brows furrowed. He had to hurry and shut down Mr Stark's suits before he reached them and left to murder Toomes. Adrenaline coursed through his body, brain whirring to life like the computer before him as he deleted lines of code, rewriting and altering the code that created FRIDAY as he tore down the firewalls Mr Stark had built. Peter vaguely registered that this was probably illegal and that Mr Stark would most definitely be mad about this later but he quickly waved the thoughts away. He didn't have time for them, he didn't have time, he didn't have time. Barely registering what he was doing, Peter submerged himself into the world of numbers, immersing himself completely in the ocean of lines of code, fingers instinctively knowing what t do as though he'd been born to hack. Again, probably not a great thing that this was so easy. But computers had always made sense to Peter. After what felt like hours but was really only a few minutes, Peter was into FRIDAY's system. And with a few taps, Peter shut down the suits. Quickly exiting the browser, Peter dropped his head into his hands. He'd done it. With a long exhale, Peter relaxed, leaning back into his chair and running his shaking hands through his hair. An enraged roar broke the peaceful quiet surrounding Peter and he squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe if he ignored it, Mr Stark's anger would go away. He couldn't deal with this shit. Peter was too young to die.

"Peter Benjamin Parker I swear to fucking god-"

"You probably shouldn't fuck god, Mr Stark," Peter couldn't resist remarking with a shit-eating grin. "People might get a bit mad. And who knows, you may even end up pregnant which I can't imagine will be very fun."

"What the fuck?" Tony whispered into the silence that followed Peter's statement. "I don't even want to know what goes on in your brain." Peter hummed in agreement. To be honest, he had no idea what was going on up there half the time. He was just along for the ride. And hey, if it distracted Mr Stark from his anger then it was a win win situation right? (How Peter won in this scenario he didn't know but he didn't question it).

"It's the trauma," Peter replied flippantly, as casual as one would be if they were discussing the weather.

"The-" Tony broke off into angry, confused gibberish that Peter didn't even try to decipher. Crisis averted. Now to deal with the aftermath.

~~~

Step 6. Watch a movie.

Peter Parker wasn't good with emotions. Being a socially awkward sixteen-year-old genius had that effect on a person. Not to mention the fact that he had a crime-fighting, sarcastic alter ego. Yeah, he wasn't great with feelings. Especially not his own. And now he was attempting to help Mr Stark clam down after the whole Toomes-dropping-a-building-on-him-reveal thing. And the only way an emotionally stunted teenage genius superhero knew how to help an emotionally stunted adult genius superhero was something most people would not class as a healthy coping mechanism. Distraction. Preferably with a movie.

"Hey Mr Stark, wanna watch Empire Strikes Back?" Peter asked. Tony fell into a confused silence which Peter took as an agreement. "Yes? Perfect, let's go." Grabbing Tony's arm, Peter tugged him out of the lab and into the elevator, confusion splashed across Tony's features as they entered the movie room. Peter dropped onto the expensive yet incredibly comfortable couch in the centre of the room, pulling Tony down beside him. "Hey FRI? Can you please play The Empire Strikes Back."

"Certainly, Peter," FRIDAY replied, a hint of warmth in her robotic voice. The Star Wars theme filled the room, Peter lips kicking up into a smile at the familiar sound. And as the movie played, Peter reciting every single line with the characters, he felt the rage and tension slowly drain out of his mentor as he relaxed.

"Hey, kid," Tony whispered, interrupting Luke and Darth Vader's showdown. "I sorry for getting angry. I just... I just didn't know what to do. Instead of asking if you were okay I blamed myself and wanted to frigging murder a guy who's already suffering in prison."

"It's okay, Mr Stark," Peter responded with a smile, sincerity gracing his tone. "I get it. After Ben died, I found his murderer. I almost killed the guy," Peter chuckled without humour, Tony watching him with sad eyes, the movie forgotten. "Point is, I know how it feels to want revenge. Don't apologise for being human."

"You really are the best of us all, kid," Tony remarked, a smile adoring his face, features relaxed as he looked at Peter.

"I learned from the best," Peter replied with a shrug.

"Thanks, kid," Tony said, throat tight with emotion.

"I meant May," Peter joked lightly, the heavy emotion clouding the room vanishing as Tony laughed.

"Are you okay, kid?" Tony asked, seriousness settling over them again.

"Honestly?" Peter responded, "no. But that's alright. Because I will be." Peter held Tony's gaze, warmth blossoming in his chest at his mentor's caring eyes, as Darth Vader's voice filled the room.

"No, I am your father," Darth Vader spoke. Peter turned back to the movie, watching as Luke jumped and fell.

"You're gonna be okay, kid," Tony whispered, "we're both gonna be okay."

Because Peter would be okay. So Tony was okay too.

And if Pepper walked in three hours later to find them curled up against each other, fast asleep she never said anything. (She got FRIDAY to take a photo and saved it to Irondad and Spiderson - an unsurprisingly large file. She should probably get Peter to do a DNA test. They did look rather similar)

#fanfic #peter parker #spider-man #iron man #irondad #father-son #pepper potts #unhealed trauma #marvel #the avengers #spider son #bamf peter parker #tired dad Tony #tony stark #aunt may

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beccascribbles · 4 years ago

Text

hcs series detailing what it is like to be a manager for the various haikyuu teams

karasuno | seijoh |

warnings - swearing

word count - 2.1k

you weren't immune to oikawa's charms, but being friends with him since middle school meant you were the least likely in the school to fall for him (you were also the least likely person he would mess with in that way, especially as iwaizumi would happily punch him for the trouble)

this meant you were a perfect candidate for manager of the team

when you all been first years, the team had come up to you and begged

ultimately, it had been iwaizumi who had finally convinced you (the sight of him almost begging you would be forever ingrained in your mind. boy did not want to be the only one responsible for oikawa)

by the time you reached your third year, you were immensely glad that you had agreed to manage the team

at times, it had been tough. dealing with oikawa's jealous fangirls often felt like a full time job. the amount of times you had sprinted into the club room to the shock of the team was ridiculous

one day, you had dived through the door, yelling for then to shut and lock the door as you crashed to the floor

iwaizumi had been by your side in an instant, worried gaze assessing you for injuries. when you let out a wince, rubbing at you arm, he was automatically assessing it for damage

"it's not broken," he assured you, giving your head an affection pat before his gaze turned to oikawa, eyes narrowing. "call your fucking fangirls off, shittykawa"

"i've tried," he whined, giving you an apologetic look. "clearly their love for me is too strong"

"maybe if they actually spoke to you, they'd realise what a crap personality you have," sighed matsukawa, slapping oikawa on the back affectionately and then holding the hand up to receive a high five from hanamaki

slowly, hesitantly, you moved over to the door, pressing your ear to the surface. through the wood, you could the girls, their high-pitched voices grating at your nerves

“i really fucking hate them,” you grumbled, moving away to sit on the floor beside hanamaki, who wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you leaned against his shoulder. “why did i let you convince me to join this club?”

this was directed to iwaizumi, who had the good idea to look sheepish. oikawa, on the other hand, collapsed down on the floor in front of you and spread out his arms. “because you love us, y/n-chan”

“not you,” you scoffed, poking him in the chest. he pouted

“that’s no way to talk to your childhood friend”

“it is when they have a swarm of jealous fangirls after you”

oikawa looked like he was about to reply, but a clip to the ear by iwaizumi was enough to distract him. he turned to his friend with a cry of outrage, beginning to bicker with the ace

while you would usually tell them to shut up, pull them apart, you couldn’t really be bothered. breaking up fights was for when you were on duty. training hadn’t started yet so you figured you could let them bicker

the second years clashed less than the third years but sometimes you were needed to break up the fights, particularly when kyoutani made a return to the team

while he was away, you had been one of the only ones who checked up on him, always telling him that if he needed to talk, if he was struggling with anything, you would be there

therefore, he had a lot of respect for you, placing you on a similar level to iwaizumi (the only member of the team who could get away with telling him what to do or scolding him angrily)

this meant that, when you appeared in front of him, placing a placating hand on his chest, his hackles would lower and he would back away, though the glare would remain on his face

truth be told, kyoutani was a little bit scared of you suddenly exploding on him, especially after the way you had snapped at him when he had first pulled off a risky play in practice

you had seen red when he had pushed kindaichi out of the way to spike the ball, marching over and grabbing him by the top to drag him away. it was the first time they had ever seen him apologise

while kyoutani respected you, the relationship you had with him was very different with the one you had with the other second years. kyoutani would never invite you to lunch. watari and yahaba on the other hand...

your week is not complete without a lunch with them. you aren’t even sure when you managed to form such a strong friendship with them, but it was likely when you agreed to help them in maths (it’s not yahaba’s strong point and he begged watari to join him)

you are the one responsible for stopping yahaba showing off, particularly when the gym floods with fangirls, most of them there to watch oikawa

he will flip his hair and affect an air very similar to oikawa which will frustrate you to no end. you will drag him off court by the ear, telling him to stop, threatening him with extra conditioning

matsukawa and hanamaki will definitely start snickering at the way his face reddens, focused more on this than the fact that they are meant to be improving their serves

you can always trust watari to help you out, no matter how much you insist that you don’t need it. he is the first to volunteer to help you set up the court, to help you carry the equipment for away games

now, the first years. if iwaizumi is the team dad, you are the mum

you dote on kindaichi and kunimi, trying to keep them away from matsukawa’s and hanamaki’s influence. you don’t want them to be corrupted by the pair. iwaizumi will help you but even he sees little point in stopping the inevitable

kindaichi was very awkward around you at the start. his brain couldn’t comprehend that a pretty girl was talking to him, let alone asking if he was okay, if he needed a drink

eventually, kindaichi relaxes. you are the one he turns to when he has a problem, explaining it all to you. if it involves another team member, you will encourage him to tell them, not wanting there to be fractures in the team. after all, aoba johsai thrives because of their great teamwork

kunimi is, as usual, very relaxed around you

most of the time, he barely acknowledges your fussing, simply waving you away and heading back onto the court to resume practice

however, if he wants to slack off (which he does often), it will be you he makes eye contact with. you know you shouldn’t condone this behaviour but, occasionally, you allow it. he promises he will pull through for the game and you believe him, though you do explain that if he slacks off too much it could mean risking his sport in the starting rotation

your quiet understanding is often what motivates him to keep going. he doesn’t want to disappoint you. plus, he has seen you angry and would rather not be the reason for that

oikawa is intimately familiar with your anger. the boy just seems to do everything possible to piss you off. what angers you most is the apparent disregard for his own health, but you don't take this out on him physically

you and iwaizumi team up to handle him, with both of you favouring a more violent approach (sometimes that's the only way to knock some sense into oikawa's brain)

while iwaizumi will throw either oikawa or various items such as volleyballs at him, you tend to favour a good old-fashioned slap to the back of the head

he always knows you're coming, his whole body tensing at the sound of your footsteps drawing closer to him. oikawa is almost more scared of you than iwaizumi, probably because you are more cold fury than fiery anger

that first night iwaizumi had asked you to stay behind after practice with him, your heart almost broke at the sight of oikawa pushing himself

you saw the sweat, watched him stumble, clutch at his damaged knee... but despite the pain, he kept pushing

as you watched, you grasped iwaizumi's hand, who was tense beside you, needing the physical anchor as much as you

"why does he do this to himself?" you questioned, watching as oikawa pushed up from the floor, landing awkwardly on his feet. still, he kept pushing

iwaizumi didn't bother to answer. the answer was obvious, and you both knew what it was. he needed to get better, for the team, for himself, for revenge

"if he keeps going like that, his knee will be permanently damaged and he can say goodbye to a volleyball career," said iwaizumi, jaw tight. hand still in yours, he marched onto the court

he finally released your hand to grab oikawa by the shirt and yank him away. his voice was a low growl as he spoke, "don't fucking complain. we've been here long enough and you're going home before you regret it"

"you're so... urgh, do you want to make me lose my mind with worry, tooru?" you sigh, wrapping an arm around his waist, more to reassure yourself that he was fine than to other support. he slung an arm over your shoulder, leaning on you slightly with iwaizumi at his other side

"didn't think you cared, y/n-chan," he teased, giving you an affectionate squeeze. you caught eyes with iwaizumi, rolling your own at oikawa's words

"of course i care. we both do"

from that night on, you and iwaizumi took turns watching oikawa, stopping him when it became clear that he was doing too much

on the nights when you had to watch him, you would sit in the corner of the gym on a video chat with matsukawa and hanamaki as you tried to do some homework (to be honest, you spent most of your time joking around and chatting, but the thought was there)

oikawa, though he never showed it, was grateful for you and iwaizumi's worry. it put a check on him which he would never admit to wanting, but needed desperately

on weekends, you and the third years will always meet up, be it to do homework or just watch a movie at someone's house

movie nights tend to be quite messy (it's not uncommon to be picking popcorn out of your hair at the end)

one time, you had fallen asleep on iwaizumi's shoulder only to wake up to his head flopped against yours and a snickering oikawa and hanamaki. the pair had taken great joy in drawing a moustache and beard on your faces, while matsukawa took photos (he's usually the one who takes your group photos and sends them to everyone at the end)

managing the team is mainly fun, though it does have its cursed moments

you weren't ashamed to admit that you cried, along with the rest of the third years, when you left

however, the tears did not stop you from giving your kouhais some strongly-worded advice

yahaba was warned to not think with his dick and to try his very best to not intimidate oikawa in his quest for some fangirls

kyoutani was told that you were only a phone call away and would not hesitate to scold him if he let his anger take control over his playing style

honestly, the only thing you wished watari was luck. he'd need it, especially as there was no manager to support them next year

kunimi you told to slack off less, though you wouldn't hold it against him if he did sneak off for a little nap during the school day so long as he was energised for volleyball

with kindaichi, you simply gave him a hug and told him to keep trying his best, to not beat himself up over every mistake he made

it was oikawa who insisted on a big group hug, pulling you and a rather disgruntled iwaizumi into his arms, the rest of the team happily bundling in

and, as you hugged each other, you were thankful iwaizumi had convinced you to join the team because you knew you had made friends for life

#haikyuu x manager reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hq hcs #hq headcanons #hq manager hcs #seijoh x manager #seijoh third years x reader #seijoh x reader #oikawa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hanamaki x reader #matsukawa x reader #yahaba x reader #watari x reader #kyoutani x reader #kunimi x reader #kindaichi x reader

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marauders-venting · 3 years ago

Text

Worth The Wait (Part 2)

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff & angst

warnings: implied panic attack

words: 3116

a/n: i decided to write a second part because people asked and i was feeling nice. Also i didn’t want sirius to be sad cause that makes me sad :(

Remus’ head was spinning. He didn’t understand what had just happened. Sirius had tried to kiss him. Sirius had tried to kiss him. But it was his own reaction that concerned and confused Remus even more. Because when Sirius had tried to kiss him he had felt something. There had been a part of him that wanted to kiss Sirius back. Wanted it desperately. A part of him that wanted to let his lips meet Sirius’ and put his hands in Sirius’ hair, brush his jaw, touch his waist. That was the part of himself that frightened Remus. Alarms had gone off in his head telling him to turn away, not to listen to that part of him because god knows what road that would lead him down.

Fuck. How long had that part of him been there? Was it new? Was it something that had appeared just now? No, it can’t be, Remus thought. It felt like this part of him has been there for a while, in constant battle with the other part of him. A battle over Sirius. Over what he wants with Sirius, over what Sirius means to him. But if these thoughts had been there for a while, how was Remus only now becoming aware of them? And if they had been there for a while, what the fuck does this mean?

All these questions come flowing into Remus’ brain within a matter of seconds and they all feel unanswerable and Remus doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t know what to do or what to think because his brain is being so so loud and there’s screaming and he can’t tell if it’s in his head and everything’s going to implode and—

BREATHE, screams something in his head. BREATHE. Remus lies down in the grass and a stab of pain in his chest from a lack of oxygen. He gasps for breath and opens his eyes although he doesn’t remember closing them. He feels disoriented. Everything feels fake.

Remus sits back up and he buries his head in his arms. If Sirius were here, he’d be sitting next to Remus, comforting him. He could practically hear Sirius asking, “what’s going on in that big brain of yours?” There are lots of things going through his brain right now. But mostly it’s just the word ‘FUCK’ exactly like that, in all-caps flashing in his mind a million times over.

That’s wrong actually, says a voice in his head. Not about the word ‘FUCK’ being repeated in his head over and over again but about what Sirius would be doing if he was here. If Sirius were here he’d probably be sitting or maybe standing awkwardly away from Remus, that look of hurt and heartbreak on his face. The look that broke Remus’ insides. It broke him more to know that he was the reason Sirius was hurt. He never wanted to hurt Sirius. He was supposed to help Sirius when was hurt. He wasn’t supposed to be the one hurting him. He’d do anything for Sirius. But this was something else. This was different. But I want this too, said that part of him. I want Sirius. Remus tries to push the thought out of his mind but he can’t. So now instead of a constant loop of ‘fuck’ he’s stuck in a constant loop of ‘I want Sirius’. Great. Fucking fantastic.

Remus tries to organise his thoughts. Okay, so let’s say for a moment, just for argument’s sake, that he does want Sirius. That he likes Sirius in the same way Sirius apparently likes him. What does that mean? Does that make him gay? Am I gay? he thinks. Maybe. It’s possible. Remus had never considered it before. He doesn’t think he’s gay. Not that he’s ever had a particularly memorable romantic or sexual experience with a girl. But he’s never had one with a boy either. He’s never wanted to. Until now. Or until whenever he started imagining the way that Sirius’ hands would feel on his hips because this couldn’t be the first time. Definitely not. Okay, so maybe I am a little gay, then, he thinks. Fuck, this is hard.

Remus doesn’t want to go back to the dorm now. He’s sure that Sirius doesn’t want to see him. But he can’t stay out here so he goes back anyway. When he gets back to the dorm James, Sirius and Peter are all asleep and Remus wonders how long he’s been outside. He checks the clock. It’s past midnight. He showers as quietly as possible and goes to bed but it’s hours before he finally falls asleep. Questions keep swirling through his head, keeping him awake. And in the middle of it all, his almost-kiss with Sirius. Every time Remus thinks about it he feels his pulse rise. He turns away from his wall and sees Sirius in the bed across from him. He’s fast asleep, one hand hanging out of his bed, his lips slightly parted. Remus takes in the curve of his lips, the edge of his jaw, the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed and his dark eyelashes visible against his pale cheek. Remus wonders why he can’t turn away and then he realises what he’s thinking about. He’s thinking about how much he’d like to kiss Sirius right now and he can’t believe he let the chance pass by. He can’t believe he rejected Sirius. He turned down the most attractive person in this whole goddamn castle. Why? Remus can’t think of any reason right now.

When Remus wakes up the next morning the dorm is empty. He almost forgets about everything that happened last night. Until he rolls over and sees Sirius’ empty bed. His first thought is that it was a dream. Maybe it was just a dream. But when he goes down to the Great Hall for breakfast and sees the way Sirius is pointedly avoiding his eye, he knows it was real. So instead of going to sit with Sirius, James and Peter, he goes to sit with Lily, Marlene and Dorcas.

“Hey,” he says, sitting down beside Lily. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” she says. “Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion and I was fine within an hour. How was doing the rounds alone? Boring right?”

“Yeah,” Remus nods. He feels his stomach twist. Remus has no reservations about lying but he hates lying to Lily. It’s pointless anyway; she can usually see right through him. “Really boring.”

Remus spends the rest of the day avoiding Sirius. James and Peter stuck with Sirius and Remus pretended it didn’t bother him. Classes the next day gave Remus more excuses not to talk to Sirius. He sat next to Lily in every class and she seemed pleasantly surprised. She asked Remus that night if anything had happened with his friends but Remus said he didn’t want to talk about it so she dropped it.

“If you change your mind, I’m here,” she had said.

“Thanks, Lily, really,” he replied. He appreciated her support but he didn’t want to talk about what had happened. Not yet anyway.

---------

“Remus.” It’s James. Remus turns to him.

“Yeah?” Remus says. Five days had passed since the incident with Sirius. Remus had barely exchanged a sentence with James, Sirius or Peter. He’s sure James and Peter must have noticed something was going on but he had been hoping that Sirius hadn’t mentioned it.

“Look, I know things might be weird with Sirius right now but that doesn’t mean you have to avoid me and Peter as well,” he says.

“Why would things be weird with Sirius?” Remus tries to say casually. He fails.

“Remus…” James starts but Remus realises before he says anything.

“He told you, didn’t he?” Remus says. “Of course, he did. Fucking tells you everything, doesn’t he? Well, what are you doing, talking to me then? Isn’t it considered betrayal to talk to the person who rejected your best friend? It’s like fraternising with the enemy.”

“Remus, what are you talking about? You’re not ‘the enemy’,” James says. “Not to me. Certainly not to Sirius.”

“Did you know?” Remus asks, ignoring what James said. Because how was he supposed to respond to that? “When he said he’d come with me that night, did you know he was going to do it?”

“I knew he was thinking about it,” James says. “He’d been thinking about it for ages.”

“And you didn’t tell him it was a bad idea?” Remus asked, arms crossed.

“Well, no,” James says. “I… I assumed you would…”

“Like him back?”

“Well… yeah,” James says, sounding rather sheepish and apologetic.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why did you think I liked him back?”

“I don’t know,” James sighs. “You guys would spend all your time together. You had all these inside jokes. You’d stay up for hours talking to each other. Loads of reasons.”

“But you do that too!” Remus says. “You and Sirius do all those things you just said too and it’s not…”

“Yeah but that’s different,” James says. “Sirius has always been like my brother. Have you ever seen him as a brother?”

“I… I might have,” Remus says, arms crossed.

“Did you?”

“No,” Remus sighs. “I knew it was different, I just didn’t know that ‘different’ meant… this.”

“Does that… Remus, what do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Remus answers hurriedly, his face heating.

“Remus,” James starts, “I’m going to ask you this one time and whatever you say I’ll believe you, okay? Do you like Sirius?”

“Of course, I like Sirius, idiot, he’s my best friend,” Remus replies.

“Come on, you know what I mean,” James says. Remus remains silent. “You wanna know why I thought you liked him? Because of the way you look at him. Like you’re constantly in complete awe of him. It’s the same way he looks at you.”

“Fine,” Remus says. He’s not looking at James. “I… I think I do. I had never considered it before… before this but I started thinking about it and… and I think maybe I do actually like him.”

“Remus, that’s okay,” James says, hugging him. “It’s okay not to know or not to recognise an emotion when you’re feeling it in the moment.” Remus feels himself relax a little. Something about being told that it’s okay, that what he’s feeling is okay, something about it being put into words is comforting to him even if he can’t explain why.

“You should talk to him,” James says gently. “And you know that whatever happens, I’ll be here for you. For both of you.”

“More for Sirius than for me,” Remus says before he can stop himself. He means it as a joke, kind of, but James takes him by both shoulders and looks him dead in the eye.

“Hey,” he says. “Absolutely not. Our friendship is just as important to me as my friendship with Sirius. Remus, I promise you no matter what happens, I will always be your best friend. You assume that Peter and I would choose Sirius over you. We wouldn’t. We kept trying to talk to you these last few days but you avoided us and shut us out. Don’t do that, Rem. We miss you. We want you in our lives just as much as Sirius. I promise you that. You believe me, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” Remus says. And he does. Somehow. He’s not quite sure how but he does. He’s silent for a moment but gives in eventually and says it. Says the thing that’s been worrying him since the moment Sirius’ lips brushed his own for that split second. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“You can’t,” James says without hesitation. “You can’t because I know you, Remus, and I know you won’t let that happen. And Sirius won’t let it happen either.”

---------

Remus couldn’t sleep again. He couldn’t think about anything other than Sirius, lying two beds away from him. What the hell was happening to him? Sirius had been sleeping two beds away from him since they were eleven but now suddenly it was keeping him up at night? He didn’t understand himself. He rolled over.

“Sirius?” he whispered. Sirius turned around.

“Yeah?” he whispered back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… woke up,” Remus lied. “I don't know if I’ll be able to fall asleep now though.” He glances over to where James and Peter are still fast asleep, both snoring like logs. Sirius isn’t saying anything. “You wanna go downstairs?” Remus asked hopefully. He needs to talk to Sirius. If he figured out anything from a week of avoiding Sirius it was that he hated life without him. Unfortunately, Sirius had continued to avoid Remus even after Remus had resolved to stop. Remus could hardly blame him but he really wished Sirius wouldn’t. It made things harder.

“Yeah, okay,” Sirius nodded, getting up. Remus stands up as well, pulls a sweater on and quietly slips out the door after Sirius. They walked down the stairs in silence and sat down on the couches in the empty common room. The fire had nearly died out but it provided enough light for the two of them. Remus had, evidently, not thought this through. What the fuck was he supposed to say now?

“I can’t believe you put on a sweater when it’s nearly summer,” Sirius said, saving Remus the trouble.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Remus asked, trying to keep it casual. “I do it all the time.”

“I know,” Sirius said. “It’s weird.”

“Weirder than wearing a leather jacket every day of the year?”

“That’s called style.”

“Well, sweaters are my style.”

“Fine, if you say so.”

“What, would you rather I wore leather jackets?”

“You can wear whatever you like, Moony.” Silence. That was the most they’d spoken all week.

“What do you want to do?” Sirius asked. Remus shrugged. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss Sirius. Like, now. It was all he had been able to think about all week. But getting to the point where he’d be able to do that was what Remus seemed to be struggling with. “Why did you suggest we come downstairs, then?”

“Better than listening to James and Peter snore, isn’t it?” Remus said.

“I guess,” Sirius said. Remus hesitated. This felt like an opening. He was determined to take it.

“Sirius,” he started.

“Yeah?”

“You know… uhm the other night, when you came with me to do the rounds—”

“Remus, I’m sorry, okay?” Sirius said, his face falling. He was back away from Remus. “I get it, you don’t… you don’t like me like that—”

“No but that’s just it,” Remus said. He didn’t want Sirius to leave. Instinctively, he reached out a hand and took Sirius’. “I do.”

“What?” Sirius looked from Remus to their joined hands and back again.

“I do like you… like that,” Remus said, blushing.

“But when I…” Sirius started. “You said we should just be friends.”

“I… I was scared,” Remus admitted. “I had never thought about it before. And when you tried to… it made me think about what that would mean. About me and about our friendship. And I got scared. I’m sorry, Sirius, I’m so sorry if I hurt you. But I’ve been thinking about it since then. And… I think I may have actually liked you for a long time.”

“Remus…” Sirius started, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do this. It’s okay that you don’t like me in that way. I love being your friend and if that’s what you want then I’m happy with that. You don’t have to do this.”

“Sirius, I’m not doing anything. I’m telling you the truth, I swear.”

“R–Really?”

“Yeah,” Remus said. Sirius’ lips were parted in surprise. Remus couldn’t stop staring at them. A sudden overwhelming feeling came over him and he had to refrain from brushing Sirius’ bottom lip with his thumb. But then he realised that he doesn’t have to refrain from it. Remus hesitated for a moment. He scooted closer to Sirius on the couch, one leg crossed in front of him and the other dangling off the edge of the couch. He reached out a hand and caressed Sirius’ cheek, his thumb brushing Sirius’ bottom lip. Sirius closed his eyes. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sirius said. It came out like a whisper, his eyes still closed. Remus leaned in and slowly closed the gap between his mouth and Sirius’. His heart was thrumming so loud in his ears, he felt like the sound was echoing in his brain. His hand was still cupping Sirius’ face. He wrapped it around Sirius’ neck, kissing him harder. And as Sirius’ hands find Remus’ waist, pulling him closer, as Remus becomes acutely aware of the fact that his leg is pressed against Sirius’ thigh, Remus wonders how the fuck it took him so long to realise that this was what he’s been wanting the whole time.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Remus said when they broke apart.

“What?” Sirius asked, looking at him incredulously.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t figure this out sooner,” he said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sirius said. “You could’ve taken another year and I wouldn’t care. You’re worth the wait.”

“Still,” Remus said. “I would’ve liked more time to do this.” And he kisses Sirius again. Slowly first and then more passionately, pulling Sirius towards him like he wants every inch of him and more. And Sirius lets him have it. Yep, Remus thought, I’m definitely gay. To some degree, at least. He knew there was a whole spectrum of sexualities but he’d never really bothered to think about it much until now. But figuring out his sexuality was something that Remus wasn’t particularly fussed about at this moment in time. Right now, he just wanted to stay here in Sirius’ arms, curled up on a couch, watching the fire die out, pressing tiny kisses to Sirius’ lips, the tip of his nose, the curve of his jaw.

He thinks about what Sirius said and smiles. You’re worth the wait.

---------

Sirius meant what he had said. He would’ve waited for Remus forever if he’d had to. He’d have waited until the concept of time ceased to exist. But he didn’t have to. Because Remus was his now. And all it took was one look into Remus’ amber eyes, glowing in the dying embers of the fire, for Sirius to know that this was real: he was falling in love with Remus Lupin. And he couldn’t be happier about it.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #wolfstar #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fanfic #Wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar oneshot #james potter #james potter fluff #Marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders oneshot

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sunflowerdarlingx · 4 years ago

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Fred Weasley - “Fred doesn’t date” 3

H everyone, I hope you’re all okay!

PART ONE

PART TWO

Thank you all for the kind comments on the previous parts of this imaine. I post these chapters before I go to sleep and waking up to all your lovely comments and messages really give me the best start to the day.

This is the final part to this series. I’ve had a lot more interaction with people from this story so if anyone would like to request a piece please let me know :)

I hope you all liked the ending, it’s a bit longer than I thought but hopefully its what you all wanted x

Female Reader.

Warnings: None

--------------------

Fred felt his chest get tight, the sound of her voice alone made his heart ache. He felt the overwhelming need to cry again, tears threatening to spill whilst a lump formed in his throat. Fuck she can’t see me like this.

His body urged him to look at her, he sucked a deep breath in and turned his head to look at her, shit she looks so fucking cute. She was stood in a pair of shorts and one of Fred’s hoodies with a blanket wrapped around her loosely. Her hair was messy, and her glasses were resting a little low on her nose before she pushed them up.

His eyes trailed down her body, he felt a small sense of pride seeing her in his hoodie, like he had some sort of claim on her when she wore it. Take that perfect Diggory, she likes my clothes better. I wonder if she wears it when she’s with him?

Fred hadn’t realised how long he’d been staring for, “I..if not I’ll just go, sorry Freddie, for interrupting” Y/N turned on her heels, tears blurring her vision before he made a noise. A sort of squeak left his mouth before he cleared his throat “it’s okay, you can join me”, his hand patted the spot next to him.

She patted her hand on the grass to make sure it wasn’t wet before sitting beside Fred. The sat in silence for a bit before Y/N decide to speak, “I’m sorry Freddie, I’m not really sure what I’ve done but I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I don’t like seeing you upset… especially if I’m the one who caused it” her voice broke and Fred looked down at her, even sitting down he still towered over her slightly.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder “don’t worry about it” a fake smile took over his face. He wanted to tell her how much he wanted her, he really did but she was with Diggory now.

“W..what did I do Freddie?” Her voice was a hushed whisper as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Fred looked down at her, internally battling himself about what he should say. He wanted to tell her, he hoped she would change her mind, but if he told her, would she leave him? She had become one of his closest friends, the thought of not having her in his life at all was a thought he wanted to have.

Fuck it.

“I em…I saw you and Diggory, outside the kitchens”, that statement alone filled his body with anger as it replayed in his head, Diggory making her laugh, touching her, kissing her. His body tensed beside her, he removed his arm from her shoulders, his jaw clenched and he averted his gaze back up to the sky, sending the moon a deadly glare.

“Oh…that was nothing” Y/N noticed the shift in Fred, she couldn’t help but admire him in that moment, the way the moon reflected on his skin, the way his jaw tensed and honestly she thought he looked sexy.

Fred averted his gaze back to her and watched her closely, the way her eyes skimmed his body, “didn’t look like nothing to me” his voice was cold.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, shocked at his tone, “it didn’t mean anything Freddie” she placed her and on his shoulder, “it just sort of happened”.

“Well I heard you were very cosy behind me at dinner so it must have meant something” he shrugged her hand off his shoulder. He usually loved having her touch him but he was angry, so fucking angry.

He wondered what had happened once he left, for all he knows the exact same hands that were touching him had been all over Diggory. That then lead to him thinking about Diggory having his hands all over Y/N, touching her and holding her all the ways that Fred wished he could have done.

Y/N was close to getting up and leaving, she was hurt by Fred’s words, why did he hate Cedric so much? So what if they kissed? Then realisation hit, “Freddie, are you jealous?”, his head shot down to face her.

“No, I don’t get jealous” he stated. Shifting slightly, his eyes were dark as they stared into hers, his jaw still tense.

“Yes you are” she chuckled lightly “you’re jealous because Cedric kissed me”.

Fred groaned, his chest heaved slightly whilst the moment replayed in his head again “ugh don’t remind me, you shouldn’t have kissed him”

“Why?” her perfect doe eye looked up at him through her glasses, batting her eyelashes as innocence filled her eyes.

“Don’t act like you don’t know” he grunted and looked back up to the sky.

“Well Freddie I don’t know, why shouldn’t I kiss Cedric?”

“Cause you should be kissing me Y/N, not Cedric! For the last god knows how many weeks we’ve spend so much time together, a lot more than you and perfect Diggory have and you still chose him! We’ve been on dates down to Hogsmeade, spent nights cuddled up sleeping in the common room and even talked about spending Christmas together! Like what on earth went through that pretty little head of yours when you decided to kiss him? Is he really that much better than me?” Fred’s whole body had turned to Y/N, his eyes pleading with her for some sort of explanation as to why she chose Diggory.

She smiled slightly “Freddie, did you ever actually state that those were dates or ever ask me to go on a date with you?”

His eyes widened “no, I thought it was fairly obvious what they were” he huffed.

She turned to the side and sat up on her knees, “how many girls have you taken on dates from school?”.

The question shocked Fred, why was she asking about other girls?

“None, I don’t date girls”

“So, why did you think I would just assume they were dates?”, Y/N was confused, she never really thought Fred would like her like that, obviously what she was told today gave her a hint but she never knew what to think about the dates, she could only hope they meant as much to Fred as they did her.

Fred couldn’t come up with an answer, he sat with his mouth open and closing like a fish out of water for a minute and a half, “it wasn’t obvious?”.Y/N shook her head no. “Well what did you thunk they were?” he was so curious as to how she never figured out they were dates.

“Well I… I mean I thought we were just hanging out. I kinda hoped they were dates but you don’t exactly have the reputation for dating do you Freddie? I kinda just always thought I was like Angelina or Katie or Alicia. I always wanted to ask but I was scared, I didn’t want to lose you as a friend”

Fred couldn’t believe what he was hearing, was his reputation really that bad? I mean just because everyone knew he didn’t date didn’t mean he never dated anyone. “Oh” was all that left his mouth.

“Yeah, oh” Y/N chuckled as she watched Fred’s brows knit together as his thoughts took over.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Fred decided to speak “so, say if you knew they were like… official dates, would you have kissed Diggory?”

“Of course I wouldn’t have” she shook her head quickly.

“Would you have kissed me instead?” A cheeky grin took over Fred’s face.

“If I knew they were dates I would have kissed you the first night we came out here” she giggled and Fred couldn’t help but grin.

“So what’s going on with you and Diggory then?” Even saying his name pissed Fred off.

“Nothing, he kissed me and then sat with me at dinner out of the blue, I’d hardly call that dating”.

“What about me and you? Are we…you know…dating? Just since we’ve agreed that we have been on plenty of dates” he emphasised plenty as he chuckled at her.

“Well that’s up to you Freddie, I thought you didn’t date” she teased, poking his chest.

“I don’t date, unless I know the girl is right for me and someone I can see a future with so…”

“You see a future with me?” She interrupted him mid sentence.

“Of course I do, the second I laid my eyes on you, I knew you were special. You literally took my breath away that day on the train, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as beautiful as you. And these last few weeks…months, have only shown me how well we work together. Seeing you every morning in the hall just makes me feel so.. so good, and then when we are alone it’s like no one else exists. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, I’ve had my guard up for so long, sticking with people I know and am comfortable around and then you came along and the walls I’d built up crumbled. I’ve told you things that not even George knows. I just can’t explain it, I think that if I lost you now I’d be lost.”

A few tears slipped down Y/N’s cheek whilst Fred spoke. He looked back up at the stars and wrapped his arm around her waist beside him.

“Of course I can see a future with you, I picture it all the time. We’d have our own little house out in the country and a massive garden where the kids could play quidditch or some muggle sport that you’d get them into and we’d have a good space for outside summer parties like what we have at the burrow. Our kids would each have their own room so they didn’t have to share like George and I and they’d be little pranksters like me but just as smart and talented as you. oh and we’d have a dog, mum never let me have one …”

“We’d have kids?” Y/N’s soft voice brought Fred back to reality.

He looked down at her “of course we would” he smiled “and we’d have a big wedding, like what Bill and Fleur are planning but we’d have to wait a bit after school before all that started”

“Wow…you’ve really thought all this through Freddie” she giggled “so now that I know all about the future that you have planned for us, what do we do now?”

Fred gave her a puzzled look raising his eyebrows whilst he raked his brain for an answer. “Uh….”

Y/N laughed “shouldn’t you ask me something?”

“Oh yeah right, I forgot. Would you like to go on a a date with me?”.

Y/N frowned slightly, Fred’s eyes widened “what did I do something wrong?”

“No..it’s just… never mind. I’d love to go on a date with you” She smiled up to him, cuddling into his side. As much as she would have loved the official title of being his she would wait as long as it took.

He pulled her blanket away from her and wrapped it around him. “Oi Freddie that’s mine, give it back” she giggled as she tried to pull the blanket back from him. Fred stretched his arm and held the blanket away from her, she got on her knees and leaned over Fred trying to get it. She placed her knees at either side of his thighs as she tried to reach over.

She finally gave up and rested in his lap, “Freddie it’s cold” she pouted. Fred’s breath caught in his throat as he looked down at the position they were in. His eyes looked at her lips, then her eyes and then her lips again. God he wanted to kiss her, he wanted to see how it felt.

Y/N leaned forward and placed her lips on Fred, he was surprised that she initiated the kiss but quickly responded, his hands dropped her blanket and went to her hips and pulled her closer to him, making sure his hands didn’t sit to low. His tongue glided across her bottom lip asking for entrance which she gladly excepted, their lips moving in perfect harmony.

Y/N couldn’t help but think about how right this felt, Cedric was nothing compared to Fred, as cliché as it sounds she saw fireworks and butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

Fred had never had a kiss this good, in all honesty he never really kissed the girls he had sex with, it just made the encounter far to intimate for him. But kissing Y/N felt amazing, he loved being so close to her. He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers “I hope you know you’re mine now”, Y/N nodded eagerly before pulling him close for another kiss.

They spent the rest of the night cuddled up under the stars watching as the sun came out. They walked hand in hand to the castle and sat at the Gryffindor table for breakfast. George was the first to come down and see them sat together “ah no more tears over Y/N then Freddie, did you finally convince her to give you a chance?” he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

“Yes Georgie he did” George choked on his juice slightly before grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“Finally! It’s taken you both long enough, sorry for the glares yesterday Y/N, they were mainly at Diggory, I just don’t like seeing Fred upset”.

Y/N just shrugged before smiling at George “It’s okay Georgie, I don’t like seeing him upset either” she laughed and took a bite of the strawberry she was eating.

The rest of Fred’s friends came down, congratulating the two for finally getting together. Ginny came and sat with them, a big grin on her face. “All worked out in the end then ay Freddie” she teased as she ruffled his hair, “you made the right choice Y/N, perfect diggory is nothing compared to our Freddie”.

Fred rolled his eyes as Y/N chuckled “you’re right about that”. They ate their breakfast in peace, Fred noticed Cedric come in and pulled Y/N close for a passionate kiss, all of his friends whooping and cheering making sure everyone’s eyes were drawn to them. They both pulled away, Y/N blushing and burying her head in Fred’s chest.

Ron came over just as they were leaving “here’s the letter to mum gin, just Fred and George left to say if they’re taking anyone home for Christmas” he handed the parchment to George who lazily scribbled Lee’s name down with a little message before handing it to Fred.

“Do you still want to come?” he looked down to Y/N whilst everyone else engaged in conversation, “If you want me to come I’m there” she smiled up at him and watched him scribble on the parchment.

Hi mum,

I hope you and dad are good, I miss you both.

I’m going to take my girlfriend home for Christmas, her name is Y/N Y/L/N, give her a sweater that would fit me please – she keeps stealing mine!

See you soon.

Love, Freddie x

He handed the letter back to Ginny before pulling Y/N away from the table, “time for our first date as official boyfriend and Girlfriend” he smirked before leading her to one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade.

Having his girlfriend at the burrow for Christmas was everything Fred wanted and more. He never realised how much he had missed out on. They spent their days cuddled up on the couch watching old films whilst drinking hot chocolate, or out in the snow sledding or building snowmen. Every night was filled with more movies, games and of course Y/N reading muggle tales to Fred as they cuddled in front of the fire (although some of those tales were interrupted by mr Weasley who was so fascinated by the things muggles came up with in their stories).

It was Christmas Eve and all of the family were heading up to their rooms, Fred tugged Y/N over to the front door and slid her jacket over her shoulders before securing her hat to her head and tying her scarf loosely around her neck. “Get on your boots cutie, I’ve got a surprise”. As Y/N got on her wellies, Mrs Weasley came over with a basket in hand.

“Everything you asked for Freddie” she popped it on the floor, “good night dearie, Freddie is so lucky to have found you” she wrapped her arms around Y/N, she did the same to Fred after he was ready. Walking over to the stairs she stopped and turned on her heels “remember when you get back to go to your separate rooms, I’m not ready to be a grandmother just yet” with a wink she made her way up the stairs.

“She’s honestly something else” Fred chuckled taking Y/N’s hand in his and leading her out to the garden.

“I think she’s great”

Fred used his wand to conjure up a seating area for the two of them and a little fire in front of them. In the basket was blankets, two mugs, a flask of hot chocolate and some marshmallows.

“Freddie this looks great” Y/N couldn’t help but smile at Fred, she was so lucky to have him.

He grabbed her wrist and looked at her watch, “five minutes to go” he wrapped a blanket around them both before getting the hot chocolate for them.

He wrapped an arm around them as they watched the stars “they look so much prettier here than they do at school” Y/N looked up at Fred who was already watching her.

“You look just as pretty here as you do at school” he kissed her forehead. The clock struck midnight and suddenly fireworks started going off.

Red ones, green ones, white ones, ones in the shape of Santa, ones in the shape of snowmen, Y/N couldn’t look away from them, they were beautiful. Suddenly the fireworks made two figures, they showed two people that Y/N recognised very clearly, it was her and Fred sat in two chairs, the scene sort of reminded her of the times they spent in the library. Next showed the two of them near a circle of blue, this reminded her of all the times they’d spent at the black lake.

Finally the fireworks showed them kissing and “merry Christmas Y/N” was spelt above them, with “I love you” underneath.

Y/N gasped as she looked over at Fred, a few tears had escaped her eyes and Fred softly wiped his thumb across her cheek, smiling down at her. “Do you really?” She asked in disbelief.

“I love you” he placed a kiss to her lips, slow and gentle before pulling back. Y/N was practically grinning from ear to ear “I love you too Freddie”. They sat outside a little longer continuously saying those three special words to each other. They made their way back inside, sitting on the couch for a cuddle before bed. “Merry Christmas Freddie” Y/N yawned and cuddled into his chest.

“Merry Christmas cutie” he kissed her forehead, his eyes shut.

They woke up the next morning to Mrs Weasley standing above them “I said separate rooms” she said sternly before breaking out into a smile “merry Christmas you two” she kissed both of their foreheads before going into the kitchen.

Fred and Y/N were the first ones up, when they joined her in the kitchen they both apologies only to be waved off my Molly.

Soon it was time for presents, everyone received a jumper from Mrs Weasley and she followed Fred’s instructions, ensuring the jumper with Y/N’s initial was the same size as Fred’s.

Fred and Y/N left opening each other’s presents until last. Y/N got Fred a new beater for quidditch, some sweeties from honeydukes and a big teddy in the shape of a dog, “I know how much you’ve always wanted one” she winked. Fred grinned from ear to ear as he showed off his new bat to George.

It was now Y/N’s turn, there was a small box on the floor with her name on it, she carefully took off the wrapping paper and opened the box to reveal the most beautiful bracelet she had ever seen, there was a W charm attached with a broom and a star either side. “Oh Freddie I love it, thank you so much!” she practically flew into Fred’s arms giving him a big cuddle and a kiss.

“I love you” he whispered into her ear.

“I love you too”

Tagged

@jenniweaslee @britishspidey @parkeroffline @westyywifee @gloryekaterina @pineapplesandpinas @manuosorioh @itsbebeyyy @nojamsonmytoast @blackqueens01 @mahvelous @supermassiveblackhope @justmesadgirl @fandomlovver

#Fred weasley imagine #Fred weasley smut #Fred weasley x reader

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shyvioletcat · 4 years ago

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Yeah... I'm the worst...

*Redid the tags, got told some weren’t working. Sorry*

~ Masterlist ~

~~~~~

There was an ugly silence in the room, no one quite knowing how to break it. A small sob had Rowan looking back at Lyria, her hand cradling her stomach. The gesture caused a pain so sharp in Rowan’s chest that he choked on it because of the lies that rested beneath her hand. He had no real sense of reality as he stood there looking between his wife and the man she had been unfaithful to him with. His brain was still processing what he had overheard.

“You never gave me a chance.”

“Have you told him that the baby may not even be his?”

Rowan’s knees went weak and he thought he may start vomiting. This was a joke. Some sick cruel joke his friends had decided to play on him, Aelin always liked to pull a good prank. But the longer he looked at Lyria and from the look on her face the way she was trembling… this was no joke.

“Rowan. We–”

“No,” Rowan said, not bothering to look at the other man in the room. “This is not coming from you.”

Rowan’s brain was finally catching up with him and he had so many questions. The first and foremost was how exactly Sam rutting Cortland got to be standing in his kitchen as a possible father of the baby his wife was carrying.

“I want you to leave,” Rowan said to Sam. “I’m leaving this room and I want you gone.”

He didn’t bother to address Lyria as he left the kitchen and started down the hallway. She had two options here, she could come and find once showing her guest out or she could leave. Rowan hoped that for the sake of his sanity she chose the former. A dilemma struck Rowan as he stood in the hallway, only overhearing hushed sounds of conversation through his home. Where was he going to go? He didn’t want to have this conversation in the bedroom, it felt too intimate as the ravine between him and Lyria was gaping wider by the second. He wasn’t going to go back out to any of the rooms beyond the hallway and risk running into Sam again. That really only left him one option.

Rowan turned the door handle of the baby’s room and stepped inside.

The walls were painted a soft yellow, bits and pieces of baby paraphernalia were stacked in piles around the room that they hadn’t got around to sorting through. Seems they had a few more things they needed to sort through.

The fact that Sam was possibly the father of the baby had him reeling. Aelin and Sam had been broken up for a while now. Rowan had liked the guy, but he could tell that the two of them weren't meant to be. Sam and him were close to friends by the time the relationship fell apart, not enough that once Aelin had let him go Rowan had kept in contact. There's was a lot of missing information between then and now. Gods, had Aelin known and not told him? Is that why she had been getting progressively more distant over these past months?

Rowan waited, the feeling of wanting to empty the contents of his stomach returning in full force. His ears were straining for any indication that Lyria was still house. The front door closed and then he heard soft footsteps. She went to the bedroom first, saying his name softly–her voice wavering. She obviously didn’t find him there so she finally came to him. The door squeaked as she pushed it open and Rowan made a mental note to fix that before the baby came, he didn’t want them waking up because of the noise. That thought had him closing his eyes and leaning on the box that held the pieces of the cot, not even knowing where his future was heading.

Lyria was silent, waiting for Rowan to say something. So he did.

“Why?” he asked simply.

“I don’t know,” Lyria said quietly.

“Yes you do,” Rowan said coldly. “Stop trying to spare my feelings. Just tell me.”

Lyria walked over to the rocking chair in the corner, the only real piece of furniture in the room and eased herself down. At any other time Rowan would be over there, helping and hovering. But right now he was rooted to the spot.

“It was just after we had that big fight, the one about my car,” Lyria explained. That had been well over a year ago, this wasn’t the cause of the current problem. “I went out and I randomly ran into Sam. We got talking, he’d just had that messy breakup with Aelin so we were commiserating together. We exchanged numbers.”

“And then what? Swapping numbers doesn’t get you pregnant,” Rowan said as he finally turned around.

He saw Lyria in the chair, head tipped back as tears ran down her cheeks. “It was another fight, over something stupid I can’t remember now, and I told Sam and we went out and we got drunk. We’d been texting for a while, we had become friends and talking almost every day. Then suddenly that line blurred and we were more than that and that night he asked me to come back to his place, you’d headed out of town so I said yes. We had sex back at his place, and it was the worst mistake of my life.”

Rowan remembered that, he had the same blip in his memory over what exactly the fight was over, but he remembered leaving town overnight for work. He had tried to call Lyria so many times but eventually giving her the space he interpreted her silence to be asking for. And the truth of it was worse than he could have ever imagined.

“He loves you,” Rowan said, even though they broke his own heart.

“Yes.” Lyria’s reply came out with a sob.

“And do you love him?” At this point Rowan felt as though he was digging his own grave, each question and answer taking him deeper.

Another sob tore from Lyria and Rowan’s heart betrayed him, forgetting about his own pain and anger. All he wanted to do was hold his wife, kiss her and dry her tears, tell her none of it mattered. But still, he held back. He wanted to hear the answer first.

“No,” Lyria said but it lacked conviction. “I don’t know. But I know that I love you more.”

“That’s no consolation prize there, Ria,” Rowan said bitterly.

Lyria didn’t say anything, she just continued to cry and now was rubbing her stomach. Rowan had done that countless times, he had felt that baby move, talked to them, assured them that no matter what as their father he would always be there. But now…

That final question loomed in front of him, ready to drag him over the precipice of no return. Despite it all, Rowan couldn’t explain how the smile appeared on his face as he readied to say the words that could potentially haunt him for the rest of his life. He wouldn’t ask directly, he couldn't. Instead he’d delay the swing of the axe.

“Do you know?” He was a coward for delaying. “Do you know who the father is?”

Lyria nodded tears cascading over her cheeks, he watched them fall one after the other as she nodded, and he could tell her lies had reached their end. Hoping, more than believing that she was resolute in giving him an answer.

Rowan’s voice was so hollow he barely recognised it in his own ears as he said, “Tell me.”

~~~~~

There was a sturdy knock at the door and Aelin pushed Fleetfoot off her lap as she went to answer it. The food had arrived much quicker than she thought, she was always far too impatient to watch the actual delivery process on her phone. She tended to just get angry at the route her driver made or yelled when the wait time would randomly fluctuate. So instead she would place her order and just wait for the text. Aelin smiled at the prospect at take-out arriving, though on her way she realised that she hadn’t actually received the text indicating it was in fact here. Shrugging to herself as she swung the door open, assuming that the delivery guy had just forgotten. However, that smile fell when she saw who stood in her doorway.

It was Rowan.

~~~~~

Yeah, I'm definitely the worst. This one seems short but I promise the next one will make up for it.

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel-ig // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @queen-of-glass // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @mynewdreamwasyou // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @firestarsandseneschals // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @hellasblessed // @booknerdproblems // @rowaelin-cressworth // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starbornvalkyrie // @loudphantomdragon // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @rowaelinismyotp // @pullnpeeltwizzlers // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction // @gracie-rosee // @elriel4life // @miserablesmusings // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @littleboxofthunder // @empress-ofbloodshed // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen // @alyx801 // @amandaswallowtail // @louiseleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @danibutterr // @thegreyj // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis // @swankii-art-teacher // @grandma-noob-lord // @vanzetanze // @lizzyfirebringer // // @endlessdaydream // @magnifique1807 // @sis-it-dont-add-up // @thenerdfandoms // @post-it-notes33 // @ae-lingalathynius // @whythefuckdoiexist // @highlady-brittney // @story-scribbler //

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littleoddwriter · 4 years ago

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Replaceable | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

Another vent fic. Two in a day, wow.

summary; You’re spiralling because you feel as though Roman will leave (kill) you soon, since it seems inevitable to you.

notes; TW // Fear of abandonment; Spiralling; Suicidal and Homicidal thoughts (quite brief, tho). Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Soft Kisses; Roman being assuring and sweet in a rare moment of him being a decent person.

Being all alone in the loft, it felt huge to you. It always did. More often than not, you felt as though you didn’t belong here, like you were just an intruder, waiting to be spotted and put back on the streets, where you’d be lost and looking for another place to stay all over again.

It’s been about half a year since you and Roman have started dating. You had moved in a month ago. Roman had insisted on it, since you’ve spent most of your time here anyway. Part of you still had trouble believing that he really wanted you to live with him. That same part was just waiting for the other shoe to drop eventually.

All your life, people have very suddenly replaced you, so effortlessly, as if you have never mattered in the first place. In a way, you were used to it, expecting it even. It didn’t make it hurt any less, though. Nor did it calm your anxiety over it.

You knew how easily replaceable you were, and you really couldn’t fathom just why anyone kept you around in the first place, only to toss you aside the second they found someone better. It was always the same. You never learnt from it either, and instead you kept trusting blindly, loving passionately – platonically and not – and you always believed unconditionally. It made you sick to think just how naïve you still were after everything.

Even more so, you just couldn’t comprehend why Roman Sionis of all people would date you at all, and ask you to move in with him on top of it. It had made you spiral and you had no way of stopping it. Doubts kept eating away at you, the feelings of inadequacy dug their claws inside of you, and your anxiety slowly but surely tore you apart.

Sometime soon, he’d leave you, kick you out – no, he’d probably just have Zsasz kill you. Or would he do it himself and grant you that honour, too?

Sighing deeply, you squeezed the fuzzy orange pillow, which you’ve been holding and kneading, tightly against your chest. It just didn’t make sense to you at all and it terrified you.

You loved him so much, more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and you couldn’t bear to ever lose him. Fuck, you almost wished he really would kill you when he’s had enough, lest you’d do it yourself when he’s left you eventually. It was a frightening thought process, but not an unusual one.

Tears pricked your eyes and your chest felt so tight, it got difficult to breathe. Past relationships of any kind and how they’ve ended by replacing you, kept replaying in your mind. Roman would end up doing the same – finding someone better than you and getting rid of you. You knew he would, and frankly, you couldn’t blame him one bit. Not him or any of the others before him.

Perhaps that was your purpose in life – being a fill-in for people to find the person they were actually meant to be with, be that as friends or more. Although, it didn’t make sense in this context because you knew for a fact that Zsasz was this person for Roman already. Maybe you were there to make Roman realise his feelings for Victor? You didn’t know, couldn’t possibly. Your mind was nothing but a jumbled mess of questions, possibilities, and cries of agony. Spiralling like this had you in immense emotional pain, hence why your chest felt as tight as it did.

In the end, you didn’t know how long it’s been, but Roman was suddenly in front of you. You looked up at him from where you’ve been sitting on the chaise longue. His head was tilted to the side, a curious expression on his face.

“What’s going on, baby?” he asked.

“My brain’s being a dick,” you replied honestly. It was no use lying to him, ever, it’d only upset him and you didn’t want to be cause for that.

“Aw, how so?” Roman caressed your forehead with one of his gloved hands, brushing your hair back, oh, so gently.

It made the tears come back, burning your eyes, which had you lower your head, not wanting him to see it. Fuck, you were so weak, so stupid. You were nothing but a burden.

“Because I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered brokenly. You hadn’t planned on giving him that response, but now it was out and you couldn’t take it back. Your anxiety spiked, making your heart beat rapidly, your breaths becoming quicker.

“I can’t quite follow you, my little prince. Why would you lose me?” Roman sat down next to you, putting one arm around you and pulling you against him. Automatically, your head rested on his chest, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat. It was always so calming to you to feel his warmth against your skin, to hear the life thrum through his body so steadily.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you explained to him what had been going through your mind in the past while. He just listened, brushing his hand through your hair, while his other hand stroked your arm soothingly, rubbing circles into it.

When you were done talking, you buried your face in his chest, smothering yourself for a moment. You were so afraid of his reaction. You couldn’t bear the beats of silence between what you’ve said and his eventual reply. It was a deafening kind of silence, one that rang in your ears and through your head, inflicting pain on you.

“Will you look at me, baby?” Roman asked to your surprise.

Cautiously, you lifted your head off of his chest and looked at him. Gently, he cupped your face in both of his hands, focusing his gaze on you, which had you feel exposed.

“I promise you, I won’t be able to find someone better than you. The only possibility would have ever been Zsasz and I’ve already got him. And then I found you. Baby, I- You know I’m not good at these things, but you are that better person already, ‘kay? I’m not leaving you, or killing you, I can assure you. Got it?”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded as best as you could with his hands holding your head up. “Okay, yeah. I’m sorry for- you know,” you spoke softly.

Roman leaned forward and captured your lips in a chaste, yet searing kiss, which you reciprocated as soon as you had caught yourself. For a few minutes, the two of you just shared soft kisses like that. Your heart soared with it, beating in your throat, it seemed, making you light-headed.

When you finally broke the kiss, you felt such intense feelings wash over you, choking you for a minute. They weren’t bad emotions either, but relief, happiness, excitement, and most notably hope.

You believed him and you could only hope he was right about what he’s said.

Only time could tell.

#x male reader #male reader #male reader insert #reader insert #reader fic #roman sionis #roman sionis x male reader #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis fanfiction #mlm fiction #mlm fanfic #vent fic #sorry for the amount of vent fics again lol #i wish this helped anymore but it doesnt #whatever #needed to put it out there anyway

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dr-addieramsey · 3 years ago

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Broken Without You : Chapter 3

Book : Open Heart

Pairing : Ethan Ramsey X F!MC(Adelaide Nicholson)

Rating : Teen+

Category : Angst, WIP, Series

Warnings : Mentions of Illness, a few swear words

Summary : She receives a shocking news and wants to tell him but he leaves her alone.

A/N : This is set between the first and second books and then later during the second book. Also I'm not a medical professional so if anything I have written inaccurate I'm sorry for that.....

Again I'm sorry for any mistakes. English is not my first language.

"I'm most probably dying, Ethan. I have Hepatocellular Carcinoma Stage II."

His blood ran cold. No. No this can't be happening.

"W-What? When? When did you find out?" he finally managed to say.

"Two months ago. The day when you......."she said. There was a lump in her throat. She didn't realise that she was crying.

"You- you came there to......."he couldn't bring himself to finish the thought because if she had come there to say that she had cancer then he'd screwed everything up big time with everything he'd said. For heaven's sake, she'd told him she loved him. He couldn't get that picture of her out of his brain. That was the worst day of his life up until today. But he needed to know. I mean there is still a possibility that she found out after I left, right? "........tell me?" his voice betrayed him as he completed the sentence.

"Yes, Ethan and you said you didn't care."

He shut his eyes tight in hopes of getting the memories of that day out of his head.

"Addie, you should have told me. I would have never left." he blurred out.

He's still an arrogant asshole. How dare he blame me for not telling him?! It's not like I wanted to hide that from him. He was the one who left. He was the one who said he didn't care.

"You don't get to do that, Ethan." she whispered.

"What?" it seemed like Ethan was lost in his own thoughts.

Her voice raised a few octaves"You don't get to show me your fake concern. You don't get to blame me for not telling you when you were the one who didn't hear me out. I begged you, Ethan. I begged you to stay . I told you that I needed you. I told you I couldn't do it alone. But you didn't hear me out. You left. I needed you to say that it was going to be ok. I needed you to hold me. I needed your support. And what did you do? You said you didn't love me and that would've been ok. But you saying that you didn't even care, that it meant nothing to you, that I meant nothing you. That hurt, it fucking hurt."

She paused to take a breath. By now tears were freely rolling down both their eyes. And then she scoffed.

"And I'm such a goddamn idiot. That was the day I received the news that I have liver cancer, that I might be dying in a few years, if not months and even that's not most hurtful memory I have of that day. It's you leaving. You leaving me alone."

All this time Ethan looked down at the floor.

"When I looked at those biopsy reports my first thought, my first instinct was that I needed to tell you. However, on the other hand, things get a little bit difficult and what's your first instinct? To run away. To leave everything. To leave everyone who cares about you........ You're a coward Ethan Jonah Ramsey!" She stabbed her finger in his chest.

"Adelaide, I'm truly sorry. If I could turn back time, then I would. I hate myself right now. I do care, Addie. Trust me I -"

"Trust you? Trust you?! Where does that ever get me, Ethan? I always end up getting hurt. And this time? This time I was not merely hurt Ethan, I was shattered. I broke into a million pieces. I had so much going on and you left me in no state to think about what to do!"

"Addie. Tell me. Tell me how I can make it all right? I'd move heaven and Earth if that's what it takes." Ethan said.

"I can't beleive you. I just can't fucking beleive you. I don't need your help Ethan. I don't need anything from you......." She paused and thought for a moment. "Just don't tell anyone. I'm not ready face a pity party yet. Just for this last time actually listen to what I have to say. I think you're dignified enough to respect a dying person's last wish to you, aren't you?"

"Don't say that.....You'll - you'll not die." he whispered

"Don't Ethan, please. I'm not up for another debate or false hope. You know better than anyone that this type of cancer has a 11 percent rate of 5 years of survival, and when you're a person like me who is not even taking treatment...."

".......You're not taking Chemotherapy?!!!!!!" he immediately cut her off.

She cursed herself for the slip up of her tongue. She didn't mean to tell him that.

"No..."

"Why? Are you insane? You know it'll kill you faster. It'll spread to your other organs. You're a doctor. You know better than anyone......"

"........I know better than anyone that it has a very low chance of being cured. And anyways I don't want to die like that, Ethan. I don't want to be a burden on anyone, on my family and friends. I can't do that. I'm not strong enough." She paused for a moment. Just when he was about to say something, she said, "I think we are done having this conversation.......or atleast I am. Sienna has been waiting for me for too long. I'll see you at work tomorrow, Dr. Ramsey. Have a......" she trailed off ".......good night." she finally finished the sentence.

With that she turned on her heel and left. His head was reeling. He froze their for another minute before he ran after her.

He finally saw her near the parking lot. He saw that Sienna was standing near a waiting cab but he didn't care. He couldn't just let her drop a bombshell and go.

"Adelaide, wait!" he shouted.

Without turning back she started walking faster and said, "Dr. Ramsey, I said....." before she could finished that thought she felt everything blur before her vision blacked out.

A/N 2 : I took way too long finish this chapter and since I caught a cold and took a day off I finally time to finish it. It's short and not that great and I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this but I hope you like it. Also I didn't proofread so if see mistakes pretend they're not there.

@openheartfanfics

Tags : @quixoticdreamer16 @schnitzelbutterfingers @wanderingamongthewildflowers @jerzwriter @rookiemartin

#ethan ramsey #open heart #open heart fanfiction #ethan jonah ramsey #ethan x mc

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nctsjiho · 4 years ago

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Human Shield

warnings: none

era: Some time in April 2019 (this is not an April Fools post, I tried to come up with something for April Fools but my brain lacks creativity so here we are)

❀ What happens when a giant maknae uses his tiny noona to protect him from his few months older friend?

“Ah!” JiHo twisted around in her spot to face the door from which a load shriek could be heard. The door swung open with a panicked Jisung running in. “JiHo hyung- Noona!” He yelled earning a glare from the smaller girl. “Did you just call me hyung again? AH-” The boy had launched himself at her. The impact almost knocked JiHo to the ground but Jisung had steadied her just in time. He held the older, by only 2 years, girl by her shoulders while standing behind her, his eyes focused on the door which opened again after another second.

“Park Jisung!” Chenle had yelled before coming to a halt just a few steps into the room. He slouched forward, his hands resting on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Just a few beats later Yangyang had joined the group almost equally as out of breath as Chenle. “What the hell is going on?” JiHo was confused by the situation, but without any explanation the situation progressed. “Look at you. You can’t even fend for yourself.” Chenle pointed a finger towards Jisung making the maknae shiver a little. “I have no clue what’s happening, but yeah. You’re seriously using me as your human shield right now?” JiHo turned her head to face Jisung as she spoke, her body still held in place by the young boy’s shaky hands. “I don’t know how much someone of JiHo’s size is going to be able to protect you.” Yangyang laughed. JiHo squinted her eyes at him, not appreciating the jab at her height one bit. “You know I’m not that small-” “Jisung hand me your phone.” Chenle interrupted JiHo.

“Chenle please, it was an accident!” The young boy whimpered behind her. “Okay what’s going on?” She raised her voice just enough to get the boy’s attention. JiHo also pushed herself away from Jisung now looking at him, instead of being used as his human shield. “Jisung broke Chenle’s phone.” Yangyang explained and JiHo sighed. “Jisung, you have to start being more careful.” She was slightly disappointed but not surprised. It wasn’t the first time Jisung had broken something that wasn’t his, that’s the reason she always kept her belongings packed away safely when she was around him. “I know-” “But do you know how he did it noona?! I told him to stay away from my phone, and then he took it to the bathroom with him because I let him play ONE game on it and he dropped it in the sink!” “Why would you take it with you to the-? Actually never mind.” JiHo stopped herself not wanting to know the answer to that question. “I said I’m sorry Chenle!” Jisung backed up sensing how Chenle had slowly started inching closer to him. “Chenle calm down a bit first-”

A few gasps filled the room at what happened. JiHo went silent not even being able to complete her sentence. “Noona...” Chenle started, his eyes filling with fear. JiHo’s hunched over figure emitted a dark scary aura, which had the 3 boys fearing for what was coming next. “Did you just throw a completely filled water bottle at me?” She asked in a hushed tone, her eyes slowly came up to meet Chenle’s. “I didn’t mean to throw it at you. I swear I was aiming to hit next to Jisung. Not to actually hit him, or hit you! I’m sorry!” Chenle was panicking, trying to explain himself to the best of his abilities. Even after knowing JiHo for a couple of years already, seeing her like this scared the living hell out of him. Not that it happened enough to get used to it already. More so, it was such a rare sight which was why it was so scary.

Luckily the bottle had not hit JiHo because she ducked just in time. JiHo wasn’t even planning to get this serious about a dumb water bottle, it was just the fact that it was filled to the brim and coming directly to hit her in the face. She couldn’t help but feel a little shocked which caused her to come of as angry - well she was a bit mad but not as mad as she unintentionally made it seem.

“Chenle.” She stopped the boy who was rambling. “It’s okay, just don’t do that again. Like ever.” Though her words were meant to calm down the boy, he didn’t feel relieved at all, too caught up in his own thoughts to realise what JiHo had just said. “Chenle!” JiHo yelled out this time, hoping the boy would look her in the eyes.

Chenle looked up at JiHo with wide eyes and flinched as she walked a step closer which caused the girl to let out a chuckle. “Dude I’m not going to kill you or anything. You literally have 10 centimetres on me you could easily just kick me or something if I were to do anything.” She laughed but noticed Chenle hadn’t quite relaxed yet. “Hey, I said it’s okay, I’m not mad. Just be more mindful next time. Go ahead and yell at Jisung for breaking your phone again or something. I’m gonna head out.” She waved at the three boys and left the room with Jisung quietly calling out to her that she was supposed to protect him.

Just as she was about to step into the elevator JiHo heard someone call her name. She looked up to see Chenle running up to her. He stopped in front of her with a sheepish grin and a hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “JiHo noona, I’m really sorry. I just was a bit upset about my phone. I only got it last week and... Yeah, I’m just really sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you.” JiHo smiled brightly which had Chenle thinking - how could he ever be scared of someone who looked so nice and was so forgiving? “Don’t worry about it.” She patted his left shoulder. “You have practise with Dream in a bit right? Good luck.” She sent him a thumbs up before walking into the elevator which just opened up. Chenle watched her as the doors closed in front of her while she waved at him with two hands and her head slightly tilted to the side, her eyes crinkled into a genuine eye smile. His cheeks flushed a little at the cute gesture and he mindlessly brought his left hand up to wave back at her.

“Chenle!” Someone called out to him and he turned to see Jaemin and Jeno standing behind him - they had probably come from the other elevator. “What are you staring at? Are the elevator doors that interesting?” Jeno chuckled pulling the flustered boy by the shoulders and pulled him towards the practise room. How long had he been staring at the doors for after JiHo left? Chenle shook his head deciding to let it go and he walked with his friends to the practise room while catching up with how their days had gone so far.

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #chenle imagines #nct chenle imagines #nct female member #nct extra member #nct additional member #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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supremeinlilac · 4 years ago

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Greiving for something not lost

Sally Mckenna x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Canon death, mentions of suicide, grief, slight mention of nsfw activities but it’s literally nothing.

A/n: Here’s the exchange gift for @cissa-calls , and I hope it’s not too dark for you :/ I researched a lot of Greek Mythology because you said you enjoyed it so it’s based around a myth, although as always I got carried away so it ended up only being a small portion. I hope you like it :))

Instead of taking the direct route to the Cortez, you idled down the backstreets of LA, one hand stuffed deeply into your pocket as you scuffed feet against stones on the path. It did little to clear the fog in your brain after yet another argument with Sally, it was always too loud in the city and you seemed to never be able to silence it enough to think.

Sally had promised you, time and time again that the next job would be the last, and you clutch at the hopes that each time she’d be telling the truth. Each time you’d fumble with fingers against the hem of her jacket and beg her to stay, and she’d pry them off and tell you not to follow her.

“The Hotel Cortez is not a place for you babe,” she’d say, and then she’d be gone.

Usually, you’d accept that, and would wait by the window for glimpses of her silhouette along the street when she’d returned. Your heart would thrum in protest against your ribs almost painfully until you’d see her safe again. This time, you’d both cried and fumed. Neither understood the other, neither wanting to admit that they feared what that meant.

Your other hand held a small spray of white anemones, and an apology scribbled on paper. You had to rehearse it before you met with her again, she seemed to be able to sense when you weren’t genuine. You’d wanted flowers of a darker colour, they were more Sally, but had had to settle with that of purity and innocence. Not Sally at all, but you were still too proud and stubborn to stalk around more shops to find the perfect gift for her when you’d both been in the wrong.

The detour meant you’d probably find your girlfriend already high, stumbling aimlessly around rooms with that grin on her face that always made you want to kiss it off her. No doubt that tonight would end as it always did. Possessive and passionate in your shared bed. Sometimes you wouldn’t even reach it. Sorry with Sally was always spoken through sex.

The thought of apologising through kisses and softly idle fingertips had your pace quickening, and the guilt heating up within you. You didn’t like fighting with Sally, and you sure as hell didn’t like what you fought about, but you loved to bribe her back to you this way. But as you turned the corner to the hotel, the guilt in your stomach dropped into that of dread, and a lump formed so quickly in your throat that you felt you would choke on it with what you saw.

Aphrodite had warned Adonis about the dangers, just like you had Sally, and yet, here they both lay. It was as if her body blurred into two with your tears, two lovers, separated by the cruel twist of deaths knife in a hollow chest.

You seemed to be able to do nothing but stagger towards her, vision smoky and you prayed it was a dream. That you may stir in the sheets beside Sally, and she’d reach to still your tremors like the silent hand of a god against the rumble of an earthquake. Be still my love, do not fear what can not hurt you. I’m here, reach for me.

Now, you wished for something as merciful as a dream.

Her face paled to grey as you neared, and the world seemed to fall away. Passers by seemed unaffected as hurried feet carried them home, anxious to block out the city with thick blinds and gentle music. Your despair willowed to nothing, a commotion simply on the other side of the road wasn’t a rarity. The city had seen it all before.

It turns out the Hotel Cortez wasn’t a place for her either.

You felt like throwing yourself to the ground beside her, bare knees scraping against the harsh pavement, yet you’d welcome the pain beside your lover. White noise filled your ears, and only the blaring of car horns could cut through its insistent ringing. You couldn’t even hear yourself crying for help to anyone who might listen.

Her eyes were wide, glassy and pleading, but you saw no life in them. The glass gave way to murky water and it was clear you’d reached her too late. Defeated, you crumpled beside her, flowers forgotten in leu of pressing lips to her temple and whispering the apology as if it may be heard by her soul and it might return to her body. To you.

You wanted to close her eyes with gentle fingertips but feared that if she stopped seeing you then it would be the end. That it would mean she was gone.

A flower sprang where he lay, hours after Adonis’ death, a deep crimson anemone that bore the shade of his blood. Born from the sweet nectar from Aphrodite’s hand, the wildflower bloomed. Beautiful trauma.

The flowers on the ground by your side seemed to wilt, sensing the sour odour of deaths passing, they hung their heads in mourning and shrank into their petals. Heavy with grief. White anemones turned red under the suns dying love, its light bowing behind the buildings so it may pretend to have not bared silent witness to souls divided.

Aphrodite pleaded for her lover’s life in the underworld, so he could be with her once again in life. You would have plead as she did, knelt and sold your soul for Sally to be returned. You would have done as Aphrodite did, if you thought it would help. If you thought that someone could see your pain and render it pure enough to grant the impossible.

In the real world, there are no gracious second chances for such a fickle thing as love.

And now, it seemed that the Hotel Cortez would be her place, tied to her always in death.

You stayed by her side until the coroner arrived to take her away. You couldn’t cry, instead just watched through eyes of steel as the back doors of the van were slammed obnoxiously, ringing in your ears long after it had pulled away and been lost to the traffic. You vaguely registered someone’s hand on your shoulder, a soothing motion, talking as if underwater, muffled and unintelligible. You felt like you were barely clinging to driftwood on an unsettled sea, each swell of a wave bigger than the last.

In shock- you heard someone say. Suicide. That broke your haze.

When you’d got home that night, the silence had screamed at you. It had been too quiet to sleep, and you ached for the way she’d blast music loud enough to warrant the neighbours complaints the next day, so you’d have to bake horrendously in the kitchen cookies as apologies. Or when she’d strum against her guitar and the gentle tones would pull you from your work and into her lap to watch her fingers manipulate the instrument into art.

You craved the shrill laughter of Sally when she’d prank you childishly, how she’d pull you towards her and you’d see how joy creased her face beautifully. You’d always want to make her laugh and brush the pads of curious fingers over the dimples formed and make her shy away.

You’d never hear her song again, you realised, blinking away tears when the guitar propped in the corner caught your eye. Chest heaving painfully, you half wanted to grasp it by the neck and slam it against the ground over and over until anger diffused and you could cry into its shards. The other half, the winning half, wanted to pick it up and set it against you, ghost fingers over its strings so the thrum was barely audible. She’d played this tune, taught you this tune, and you vowed you’d never forget it. Fingers in her shadow, you ran them over the smooth wood, eyes closed and head back on the sofa.

She was everywhere in the apartment, and it only served to remind you that she was also nowhere.

The suffocating hands of her absence pressed against you, a ribbon of blackened ash around your ribs, until they threatened to crack under its pressure. Was it possible to miss how she hurt? Your lover, with her wild hair and glassy eyes, you could see her as she was, you would drunk in how she would move. Dancing slowly in an empty room, as if the world were watching her.

Wild hair was born to writhing snakes, and you feared to look directly into her eyes now. Death had claimed her as its own, and you refused to accept her insistent fate. She’d return. You’d look into her eyes and see that of your lover, and not of Medusa. Lungs of stone, how could they swell to receive the gift of a breath without her beside you?

Now you drowned the guilt, drunk in its depths instead of in her eyes.

Stuck in endless loops of questioning what if. What if you hadn’t taken the detour, what if you hadn’t argued, or if you had made her stay instead of letting her leave the apartment? Would she still be alive?

It wasn’t your fault but oh, how that option seemed so sweet in this moment. To be swarmed with an actual reason to hate, how it would be easier than the reality. You’d rather have yourself to blame than have no one. Responsibility for actions you weren’t even sure of. Questions unanswered by police, that would remain unanswered because the only person with the solution was gone. What had happened?

The pressure seemed to build up in your head, an unbearable thickness of thoughts that had nowhere to go but to force themselves down your throat so you’d choke on them, and the feeling of sickness would resurface. They’d swim in your gut like parasite and never still.

It was worse at night.

Distractions were less and your emotions ran so far above you on blackened clouds, so out of reach that you doubted you’d ever be able to wrestle them back into submission. Would they eternally be dancing in mockery and pulling at marionette strings in your limbs? A shell of your former self, only held up by unpredictable emotions that could burn you with their ice just as much as their fire.

After your first day back at work after the incident, you’d returned home exhausted, wanting nothing more than to collapse into yourself on the sofa and cradle one of her jackets. You forgot the lock the door on your way in, and remembered hours later, after the sun had drooped once more that you needed to lock yourself with your thoughts again for the night.

You reached into your handbag, searching for something that seemed menial now, and instead your fingers curled around her packet of cigarettes. You stopped, hand still in the bag, and your breath caught painfully in your throat.

It had been the first since that night, raw and salty tears that burned your eyes red and blurred your vision. The kind of crying that wore you to nothing within minutes and had you clutching bony fingers to your chest as if to pry open ribs and reach your lungs. You couldn’t breathe.

Everything caught up with you, and you felt as if you were falling alongside her, scrabbling to find purchase against nothing. The rational side of your brain knew that you wouldn’t crash to the ground, but you couldn’t help but be brought back to her side in that moment, a whirlwind of emotions that you couldn’t control, circling your head in a way that made you dizzy with your grief.

Her pale face, mottled with the tears of her death invaded your mind, the blood staining the pavement. Suddenly you felt hot with it, as if the sticky blood was covering you, pulling you to drown. You could smell its invasive metallic scent, almost taste its musk in your throat with every breath. It was thick, and you were clawing at your arms to try and wipe it away. It was everywhere, and then it was nowhere, and you wondered why you’d been tricked by grief in the first place.

Shaking, your fingers had flipped open the packet and picked one out. You didn’t smoke, yet trembling hands found the lighter and lips found the filter which already had a smudge of red on it. Almost as if Sally had gone to light it but changed her mind, discarding it back for later use. She never used it again, now it was you that drew in an unsteady breath, drawing the panel door to the side as you took the rest of the cigarettes onto the small apartment balcony you both shared to smoke them, alone.

There was really only room for one person out there at a time, yet you and Sally would huddle together on the nights when the city would keep you awake, and she’d wrap pale arms around your waist and nuzzle her chin into the crook of your neck. Passing her cigarette back and forth you’d overlook the streets below and watch the living.

You’d both used to wonder what it would be like to lead the lives of those people below, those on their way to work before the sun even surfaced over the horizon and set its path for the day. Working before the pair of you had even been asleep. The banality of their routine, oh, how you both pitied them. They’d work boring jobs to pay the rent for the whitewashed walls they’d come home to each night, eat the same meals at the same time, prepared by wives wearing lines of age, deeply set in valleys on their faces. These people always looked older than their years, tired and worn from work and children born to save a marriage already lost.

You’d used to pity them, yet now, you craved the intimacy of a boring life with someone you loved. You’d rather the predictability of this life than the one you had now. Nothing.

On the balcony, you smoked all the remaining cigarettes in the pack. Usually, you didn’t smoke, but you did, just to feel close to her again. Curling your fingers around the butt the way that she used to, and blowing the smoke out, watching it furl and twist into the cold night. You craved the warm roughness of her hands.

She’d kiss you with the lingering taste of those cigarettes, and you’d grown addicted to it. Still, once you’d finished the packet, you’d found yourself unable to rebuy them.

Slowly, you forgot its essence. You felt like you were forgetting her.

In the news, you waited for them to show a photo of Sally, one detached from everything she’d grown to be, beside a headline of death. The low hum of the city news was background noise to your grief, and you ached for someone to care enough to tell about her passing. For weeks, there was nothing. There was nothing and then there was everything, all at once, and in that moment, you knew that you would’ve preferred the nothing.

They said she’d jumped.

They hadn’t known her, and they said she’d jumped.

How dare they when you’d screamed at them until hoarse that she would never, that she promised she would never? The quick solution, one that wouldn’t raise questions, or demand the precious funds of the very system she’d been cheated by, to fork out for justice. She was an addict, they’d said. Painting the sky above her head an angry black, with clouds that swirled with viscous intent. She was a junkie, and therefore the answer was simple.

Death had been an inevitability with a life like that, habits like that. A person such as that.

You wasted grief on your anger, long nights where you’d clutch the phone to your mottled cheek with whitening knuckles, cursing everyone who’d rendered your love unimportant. You’d fall asleep on hold to police that had no more answers for you, no more pitied excuses and apologies for a loss they knew nothing about.

And it was on one of those long nights, when you sought for comfort that could be not offered by the living, that you reach for the memory of the dead. Running fingers deliberately slowly over the clothes that hung in the wardrobe, fingering through her dresses on the railing before slowly closing the door again, leaning against it and sinking to the floor.

You’d opened all her drawers that night, some for the first time. Spritzed her dresses with her perfume that still stood on the mantle, revitalised Sally in the apartment with her smell. It was as if you were back to then, when she’d return from work, stroppy and tired, yet still reach for her perfume and generously sprayed the air that she’d then dance into.

Picking one of her band shirts out of the drawer, you slipped your shirt off and replaced it with hers. It was soft cotton, the one she’d most frequently sleep in, and it brought you warmth like her hugs used to, arms enclosing you and grounding you in moments of fear.

You slept in it that night. Telling yourself that that would be it and then it would return to the drawer. But one night stretched painfully into three, and you found yourself unable to sever the small mercy you’d given yourself in wearing her clothes, the attachment to her that only you would know when you walked the street. No one else knew the chain you wore were hers, the boots, the dress. No one knew sally because there was no one left to know.

It had been a year since that day.

You’d woken with a headache and turned over in bed, wanting to shelter yourself from the day with blankets, sleep until the moon shone and the day turned into the next. You knew you could do that, but guilt had you pulling on the covers and groaning as the sunlight poured like liquid through the slit in the curtains.

It was going to be a long day. You already felt tired.

Pulling one of Sally’s band shirts over your head, you traipsed sluggishly through the apartment, purposefully ignoring the mess, like she would after a night of drinking. Not that it mattered today. You unhooked Sally’s oversized jacket from the peg and slumped it over your shoulder. Today was the day, you’d decided. You were going to visit her grave.

In the past year, you’d planned to visit her grave on several occasions, but avoided it at the last second. You couldn’t stand the thought of Sally trapped there, tied to the soil when she should be dancing upon it with you.

Sally couldn’t be tied down to a single place, she moved freely, without reign. It was how she liked it, and how you’d learned to love her. Labels had never been her thing. And now she was labelled on stone, with a corny phrase that she’d hate, with a date too early, a life too short. Sally deserved to be free.

She was the wind, unpredictable and changing and wild, she would go where she pleased and return on the breeze. Sally would’ve hated being buried, and yet through the selfish need to have a real place to visit her, she had been. You can’t capture the wind in bare hands, can’t collar it or tame it and make it beg. It controls you and you have no choice but to concede to it.

That was Sally.

Even now, a year later, you found yourself faltering. The gates of the cemetery loomed ahead of you, and your hands bunched at the material of your pants nervously. You could feel it calling, begging almost, for you to simply reach out and push the gate open with a metallic creak of protest. To visit the place you’d always avoided.

But just as you always did, you lost your nerve, sighing and peering down the road for a reason to be drawn away. For a distraction, even just for a moment. An excuse to gather your thoughts just enough to face your lover.

A corner shop caught your eye, with the newspapers in the windows just begging for customers. How convenient. Stuffing hands into pockets, you strode over the road with new purpose.

Dragging yourself down the claustrophobic aisles in the store, you distracted yourself with exited colours on packaging, picking items of shelves and replacing them further down the aisle. You didn’t care for tidiness today.

When a shop attendant asked you if you needed any help, you gave him a sad smile in appreciation and picked up a small bunch of white anemone flowers, her flowers. Last year, they’d been a peace offering, this year, an apology. The employee shuffled along again, and you set your eyes down to the floor.

Flowers in hand, you made your way to the till, placing them delicately onto the counter and fiddling for coins in your coat. You hadn’t planned on buying anything, so neglected to bring your wallet. Luckily, this was a coat you’d not worn since Sally’s death, and she was a fan of keeping loose change in the deep pockets.

“Is that everything for today?” the woman behind the till chirped with the voice of someone with long experience in public services. It cried out in tired falsity, in ‘how long have I left on my shift?’ It was a line well-rehearsed and overused.

Just as you were about to nod in answer, your eyes caught the tobacco cabinet behind the bored check out assistant. “What brand?” She asked pointedly, and you stared dumbly past her. Had Sally ever bought cigarettes from this store? Shaking out the thought from your mind, you answered her, asking for Sally’s brand and quickly paying and leaving.

Outside the shop, you held the package tentatively in your palm, fingering at the packaging as she used to when she was nervous. She’d wrap a tune with her chipped nails against the boxes edge, and you’d coax it from her, and dip her under the moonlight in your arms. Now, holding the cigarettes held no comfort for you, feeling both foreign and familiar, it left you aching for her.

Still, you found yourself unable to visit her grave. It was all too real to see where she lay. You needed something tying Sally to you that wasn’t so physical. You laughed to yourself. How ironic it was, to force her into a grave for something so trivial as to have a place to call her resting place, only to find yourself too weak to face your choice.

Instead, you took a left, and then another, and then a right, and continued until you could no longer smell your own fear in the air with the concept of her grave. Deeper into the city, where the pollution stained white houses grey, you could breathe clearly again. Guilt will consume a person, clog their lungs with it until their breathing is laborious and the weight drags them down into their thoughts.

You’d walked this route before, one year before, with white anemones and an apology in hand. You’d never gotten to tell Sally what you’d wanted, but perhaps you’d take her the flowers, and smoke her cigarettes in the window where she’d fell. You’d tell her what you didn’t get the chance to.

The hotel was just as you remembered it, flickering neon 34w`lights that read ‘Hotel Cortez’, and the eery alleys and parked cars that seemed to be in the same position as the year prior. It was as if time had paused, hotel residents left their cars and had never returned to them.

You weren’t really aware of yourself in that moment, feet leading a silent path as you found yourself stuck in a memory. When you reached the place you found her, your feet faltered, and you couldn’t tear your eyes from the paving.

The pavement was clear, physically untainted, and any normal pedestrian would question your loitering. But although it appeared to be clean, you know because you’ve seen, you’ve remembered. The pain that would still remain, deep in the cracks of the paving stone, no matter how much scrubbing the clean up team undoubtably did after Sally’s body was removed, they couldn’t remove. They couldn’t fade the scarring, or the feeling of death that overcame you when you stared at the place she’d laid.

Someone bumped your shoulder as they passed on the street, muttered remarks about people standing in the middle of the street, and you raised your eyes to watch them walk away. When you looked back at the stone, the connection to it had been lost, and you found yourself unable to re-enter the trance you’d been in.

Pressing through the hotel doors, you left the light of the sun behind, left the living, and joined the death of the dusky lobby. Wondering through its room, you imagined Sally doing the same, with confident strides and a purpose. It was a nice place for downtown LA, you had to admit, but you couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that came with it, of being watched by invisible eyes in the walls. The feeling one gets when you visit a place where death rules over occupants.

You looked up to the next floor, and swore you saw a flash of an animal print coat moving behind the barriers. No. Must’ve been the lighting change from coming inside.

A woman pointed you towards the bar, and you nodded towards her. Did all visitors come for the hotels bar? She seemed to know exactly what you needed, tired eyes searching for something not quite there.

In the bar, you drank and you smoked and spoke with the woman behind the bar who must’ve noticed the void behind your eyes. She didn’t question you, why you were alone, just slid extra drinks across the table with a wink and a smile. You didn’t return it, opting for a grateful grimace instead.

All of a sudden, the smell of Sally’s perfume seemed to melt into your senses, overpowering that of the cigarette, and the liquor, until your head swam with memories linked with its scent. You didn’t remember spraying it this morning, and it confused you. It was so strong, and real. It didn’t seem like your brain was tricking you with its musk, like it so often would with a silhouette against the apartment window.

Suffocated by Sally. You drowned in its poetry.

Searching for its origin, your eyes roamed the bar. It was real, you figured. Turning on the bar stool, your eyes met those that you thought you’d forgotten, and you found they were exactly like you remembered. Sally stood, leant against the wall opposite you, arms folded at her chest yet wearing cheeks stained with tears and widened eyes. You scrambled out of your chair, and the world fell away from you. You didn’t even try and catch it when she was next to you.

You palmed at your eyes, begging yourself to wake up from what must be a dream. Despite knowing she wasn’t real, you ached for your mind to stay in this fantasy so at least you wouldn’t be alone. Removing your hands, you felt yourself lighten. Sally remained still, unmoving yet she was closer that ever. You could reach and brush against her cheek if only your arms would cooperate.

“Y/n?” she breathed, in that choked up voice, and you were falling again.

As if trapped in a dream, you startled awake with the feeling of cool fingers massaging against your scalp. The room was foreign, and it smelled like her. Foreign, yet startingly familiar as if you’d been there before.

Sally was curled into your side, and your breathing laboured again. You didn’t understand how she was here, you- you buried her. Sniffling broke your doubts, and Sally adjusted her head atop your chest. When you wiggled beneath her, her sniffs turned to coos, and her fingers in your hair and clutching your top were soothing at your cheeks.

“I love you, I’m here,” she flustered, worrying her lip between teeth, and you could see the moon in between buildings outside the window. It watched you with bated breath and shone onto her pale skin until her tears seemed to shine. “Say I love you Sally.”

Sitting up against the pillows, you caught her face in your hands, cupping it so she couldn’t move away as you remembered the outlines of her eyes, lips, the curve of her jaw and cheekbones. “I love you,” you found yourself admitting, tears welling in eyes that couldn’t believe what they were witnessing, “are you real?”

“I’m-” Sally started, faltering as if she didn’t quite know the answer either. “I’m here.”

You wanted to apologise anew, whisper the memorised speech that you’d spoken to her that night, but the words seemed to catch in your throat, sharp like the barbs from barbed wire were caught against the delicate skin. Instead, you pulled her in to brush lips against hers, testing slowly if they actually would meet and not melt through what your mind was making up.

They did meet, and you muffled a wail against hers, all the pent-up grief for the woman you were now kissing resurfacing. Fingers clung to her coat, which was still soft beneath your touch, and you pulled her closer to you. She cried, and you cried, and hands met to brush them away.

“I missed you baby.”

You didn’t stop to think about what it meant that she was here. Focusing only on her hands linked firmly in yours, and how she deserved to feel the taut string of a guitar again. You’d bring it to her, and she’d play her song. You’d hear her voice and feel the vibrations of her throat against your lips as she sang.

You’d do it all again.

Time you thought was lost was now frozen, suspended in a single heartbeat. She hadn’t aged a single day, and yet her eyes showed more trouble than you’d ever seen. You couldn’t wait to return and kiss away her worries, reintroduce yourself and love her and be loved like you both deserved. But for now, you were content to simply exist in her presence again.

You wouldn’t take her for granted.

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