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tobesolonely · 4 years ago

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house hunting

A/n: hello!! I’ve been having a mad case of writers block, so @goldenbluesuit‘s list of prompts was posted just in time! Thank you and i hope you all enjoy!! thank u @harryysstyless and @nationalharryleague for looking this over also :) Love u guyssss!

summary: newly engaged y/n and harry realize they have very different tastes in homes when they begin house hunting!!!

warnings: smut

word count: ~3.3k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

With all the joys that came with being engaged, there was a good deal of logistics that you hadn’t even thought of when you excitedly told Harry, “Duh, of course, I’ll marry you!” just four short months ago. Should you wed in the fall or wait until the spring? Outdoors or indoors? These were things that you and Harry went back and forth about most nights, cuddled in bed next to each other before drifting off to sleep.

Something you were most excited about, though, was finally owning a home with Harry. You practically lived together as it was, seeing that you were at his place most nights. Still, his home wasn’t yours—you were reminded every time you had to grab something forgotten from your apartment. Or when he was away for work and you couldn’t bear to be in his large, empty house by yourself.

So while you already knew each other’s grossest habits, (Harry loved asking you to pop his back pimples) you didn’t yet own a home together. Sadly, house hunting was turning out to be a less-than-joyous task when you and Harry were looking for completely different things.

“I jus’ think we’re cottage-style people… that’s all,'' your fiancé’s hand rests on your thigh while you wait in his car for the real estate agent to arrive. “This one’s nice, yeah, but is it who we are?”

You refrain from rolling your eyes at him. “You’re only saying that because they remind you of home.”

“So? They’re lovely,” he sounds a little defensive, but not mad. Your response to Harry is interrupted as the real estate agent pulls into the driveway.

“Be nice,” you remind him as you open your door to let yourself out. “I understand the Craftsman isn’t your first choice, but she worked hard to find this place for us. At least go into it with an open mind.”

Your fiancé mutters something under his breath, but you know he’ll behave himself––he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. Harry’s demeanor immediately changes once the real estate agent is within earshot, turning on his signature English charm. “Thank you for meeting my fiancée and me today. We’re both very excited to check out this lovely home.”

Since you’re privy to the reality of the situation, you can tell he’s laying it on a bit thick, but your agent is loving it. “You’ll both fall in love, I know it,” she begins her ascent up the long driveway and you and Harry follow behind hand-in-hand. “Six bedrooms, eleven bathrooms, and nearly twenty thousand square feet. You can’t beat it.”

Harry seems unphased by the enormous size of the house, but your breath hitches in your throat. Did the two of you actually need this much room? The house appeared to be even bigger than the one Harry owned now––you knew you would hate staying here when he was away for work except this time, you wouldn’t have a quaint apartment and a roommate to go back to when you were feeling lonely.

“H, ‘s kinda big…” you’re trying to speak quietly enough so the real estate agent doesn’t hear you. “I don’t know if I like it.”

“What’s tha’? We haven’t even gotten inside, love,” Harry stops walking to give you his full attention. “You don’t like it?”

“Just the driveway by itself is enormous,” you feel your cheeks growing warm. “I would be too scared to stay here by myself.”

Harry hums in agreement. “Can we have just a moment, please?” He sweetly turns to face the real estate agent who insists you take your time, walking farther up the driveway to give the two of you privacy.

“We’ve not seen the inside, doll. Gotta at least do that,” Harry’s hands run along your bare arms. “‘Member what you jus’ told me? Let’s go into it with an open mind. Don’t have to place an offer on it or anything.”

“Okay…” you’re reluctant and Harry can tell, but neither one of you want to be rude to the real estate agent. “You’re right. I guess it doesn’t hurt to just check it out.”

Harry gives you a dimpled grin. “Y’never know. Might fall in love with it, puppy,” Harry leans in so close that you can feel his breath on your nose. “Besides, think of all the rooms we’d get to have a shag in if we moved in here.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“I hate it.”

“What’s there to hate? Look at how cozy it is.”

“Don’t like the color.”

“It’s nothing to slap a fresh coat of paint on the outside.”

You open your mouth and then close it in defeat. He wasn’t wrong. You let Harry lead you around the perimeter of the house while you wait for your real estate agent to arrive to let you in—Harry’s animatedly talking about all the renovations that can be done to upgrade the house (even stating he could do some of them himself) and deep down you know this is the house you will end up living in.

“So sorry I’m late,” the agent’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “There was an accident on the 405–made traffic a nightmare.”

“No worries at all,” Harry says cheerily. “We’re just excited to get inside and take a look at this place. It’s gorgeous.”

The lady doesn’t even try to hide her surprise. “Really? I agree that it’s a beautiful home, but I thought it would be your last choice given it’s on the smaller side.”

“How many bedrooms?” You change the subject, gazing at the house in front of you. You thought it was rather large, but to each their own.

“Five bedrooms, four and a half bathrooms.”

You glance over at your fiancé, who appeared to be deep in thought—he was most likely calculating if five bedrooms would be enough to host friends and family who came to visit.

“That’s perfect,” he says after a moment, squeezing your hand in excitement. “We’d love to get inside.”

The real estate agent mutters a quiet, “please, follow me” to which you and Harry oblige. She leads you up a gorgeous cobblestone pathway that ends at weathered brick stairs. Harry lightly placed his hands on your waist as you ascended the three steps, knowing you tended to be on the clumsy side.

“Porch is nice, innit?” Harry says to you, lowering his gaze so he’s looking square in your eyes. “I can see us ‘avin a cup of coffee in the mornin’ while lookin’ out at the street.”

Your husband-to-be was trying to sell you on the home more than your real estate agent was––you weren’t mad at it. You simply hum in agreement, not wanting to fully give into Harry just yet.

The real estate agent unlocks the door and ushers the both of you ahead of her, wiping her feet on the mat before entering the home. It was beautiful. The floor plan was open, the living room flowing easily into the kitchen which led into the dining room. Large windows let in plenty of natural sunlight, which you know Harry appreciated.

You listen attentively as the real estate agent gives her typical spiel, informing you about the history of the house (and how all the wood fixtures were original). Harry is long gone, tucked away in some other part of the house, most likely examining the crown molding or something of the sort.

“...because the floor plan is so open, it’s the perfect space for entertaining.”

“So true,” you respond politely, looking around the space. “I was just thinking that. I’m sure Harry would agree... wherever he ran off to.”

“He’s a fan of this one, I take it?” She’s walking again, leading you to the back of the house.

“Oh, definitely. He’s been telling me we’re “cottage people” to warm me up to the idea of moving in here.”

“Is it working?”

You let out a quiet giggle. “Surprisingly, yes.”

“Babe, come look at this bedroom. S’gonna be ours!” Harry calls out to you from deeper in the house and you furrow your brows as you try to determine what room he ducked into.

“Where are you, love?”

“‘M in here!”

You roll your eyes at how Harry did nothing to clarify his exact location for you, but you quickly figure it out, anyway. While the house was large, it was nowhere as big as some places you’ve already looked at which you appreciated.

Once reunited with Harry, he immediately reaches for your hand and pulls you into him. The bedroom you’re now standing in has floor-to-ceiling windows, an adjoining bathroom, and even a fireplace. It was stunning.

“This room is nice,” you say quietly, leaning into his touch. Harry nods.

“S’our room. Can’t you just picture us sleepin’ in here? Relaxin’?” He leans in close to your ear. “Fuckin’?”

A shiver immediately runs through your body at your fiancé’s vulgarity, but you try your best to play off your reaction as you turn to face the real estate agent. “Let’s see the rest of the place, yeah?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

No one warned you about how much work went into actually closing on a home.

It was a long process. You were glad you had Harry, who had financial advisors, to help you close on the deal. You and Harry ended up going with the cottage home, of course, which ultimately was the best choice for what the two of you needed at the moment.

Waiting to move in seemed like it took a lifetime, even though it was only a couple weeks. Your apartment was a mess of boxes and packing tape, and you were glad you had your roommate to help you gather the things you still had left there (since you had basically already moved in with Harry as it was).

When the day finally came to move all your boxes into your new home, you were more than ready to get it over with. You weren’t sure how Harry could remain in such high spirits engaging in such an arduous task (you were honestly feeling quite crabby), so you let Harry deal with the movers lest you accidentally lose your cool and snap at someone. He kept offering to help them move things, feeling guilty for just standing around while they heaved your extensive amount of belongings around, but they kept insisting they were fine. Your fiancé opted to contribute by going to the kitchen and making them lemonade and little sandwiches, instead.

“We have a lot of stuff, don’t we?” Harry glances up at you as you walk into the kitchen, a mischievous look on his face.

“What’s this we? Pretty sure they’re struggling to carry your things around, not mine,” you snake your arms around Harry’s waist. “Maybe we can have a garage sale? Get to know some neighbors too, hmm?”

“Weird to sell Gucci at a garage sale, innit?” Harry cuts a sandwich into four perfect triangles and sets them beside him on a platter he must’ve dug out of some box. You shrug.

“I’m sure you’re not the only person in this neighborhood who can afford Gucci.”

Harry hums in response, continuing to slather spread onto the sandwiches he was making. “Can you go offer these to the movers? Ask ‘em if they want lemonade or water, too.” He tilts his head toward the tray on the other side of the counter and you reach around him to grab it.

“Look at you makin’ everyone snacks and whatnot. So domestic,” you tease, grabbing Harry’s cheek and pinching firmly. “It’s getting me all hot.”

“Yeah?” He questions, going along with your playful pestering. “Y’like it?”

“Fuckin’ love it,” you coo, giving him bedroom eyes. Harry throws his head back, letting out a loud guffaw. You exit the kitchen and go from person to person, kindly offering them sandwiches which they are more than happy to accept.

The movers finish a couple of hours later, your beautiful home still just as beautiful, but now a myriad of boxes and trash bags. The two of you had absolutely no furniture yet, seeing as Harry wanted to buy everything new instead of bringing the furniture from his old home for reasons you were still unsure of.

Harry settled on making the two of you sandwiches for supper, seeing as that was the only food you had in the entire house, and neither one of you felt like running to the store to buy anything else. He pours two tall glasses of lemonade before carefully walking to where you sat cross-legged on the floor of the living room.

“Our new home...,” Harry trails off, looking around the cluttered space. “The first thing that’s ours.”

“I could cry,” you reply, voice slightly shaky. “Like, it’s just so surreal. We can really decorate however we want and celebrate holidays–”

“Gonna fight wif’ each other ‘n love on each other,” he adds. “Grow old with each other... so happy you’re all mine and ‘m all yours.”

Your heart swells at Harry’s words. He can always tell when you’re growing emotional––he knows you better than anyone else, after all––and he quickly moves closer to you, pulling you into his side. Neither one of you says anything, there’s nothing that needs to be said. You opt to bask in each other’s company and the comfortable silence that fills the dim living room. Out of the corner of your eye you notice Harry scoot the food and drinks out of the way before he pulls you fully into his lap.

“I can’t wait for all of it,” you wrap your arms around his neck, sucking lightly on the area where the skin of his jaw trails into his neck. “Can’t wait to have it all with you.”

“Know what ‘m lookin’ forward to the most?” You hum. “Lookin’ forward to the baby makin’.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at Harry’s admission. Sure, you’ve discussed children before––you were getting married! Still, he catches you off-guard.

“Yeah?”

“Mmm,” his hand slowly makes its way underneath your shirt, loving how he already had you squirming under him.

“I’ve got it,” you mumble quietly, moving away from him. You expertly unclasp your bra and fling it out of the way, letting it join the rest of the mess that litters the floor of your home.

“This is really the first place we’re gonna shag in, then?” Harry asks breathlessly, sucking roughly against your collarbone.

You shrug your shoulders before moving to tangle your hands in Harry’s hair. “The entire house is a mess, this is as good a spot as any.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he mutters, trailing his hands down your body until he gets to your bottom. He easily shimmies your tight leggings down your legs, having done this many, many times before. “Gonna help me christen every room in this house, angel?”

“Yeah,” you’re quick to respond. You wish there was more kissing and less talking going on, but your arrogant fiancé loved two things: teasing you, and the sound of his own voice. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Where do ya want that kiss?”

“Get your mind outta the gutter,” you plead, tilting your head to the side so Harry can access your neck easier. “My lips.”

You know what Harry’s going to say before he says it. “Which ones?”

“H, come on,” you whine, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. “Gimmie one.”

Harry finally gives into your requests and presses his lips delicately against yours, humming in pleasure as he feels you sink deeper into the kiss. “I’m messin’ with ya, Y/N. I could never pass on givin’ ya a kiss.”

“I’m glad,” you answer triumphantly, shamelessly stealing another kiss from him.

“Gonna go all the way with me on our living room floor? Dirty girl, you are,” Harry says quietly, gently removing you from his lap. He helps you lay back on the floor, but not before bunching up your leggings for you to use as a pillow.

“All good?”

“Mmm,” you reach up for him, wanting to feel his lips against yours once again. He doesn’t give in so easily—not this time. Harry allows you to take his plump upper lip into your mouth before pulling away just out of your reach. You let out a pitiful whimper which causes Harry to puff out his chest, his ego getting the best of him.

“Gonna make ya feel so good,” he says quietly, rubbing his palm against your core. Your underwear was still on and you knew he was approximately four seconds away from ripping them off.

“I know,” you answer quickly. “I know, H.”

“You sound impatient.”

“I just wanna get on with it.”

Harry sits back on his heels. “What’s tha’ rush? Jus’ us, yeah? Jus’ me?”

“I need it,” you say under your breath. You were usually quite vocal in bed with Harry, but something about the way his gaze fixed on you had butterflies fluttering all-around your stomach.

“What do you need?” Harry taps your bum while he’s saying this, signaling for you to lift yourself slightly off the ground so he can get them around your ankles.

“I need you in me,” you whisper. You knew he knew exactly where you needed him, but you’d stroke his ego a bit if it meant he’d fuck you just how you wanted him to. “Hard. F-fast.”

“I can manage that,” he cheekily replies, giving his hard cock three tugs before pressing himself to your entrance. “Don’t want me to eat ya out or summat?”

“No,” you answer entirely too quickly. “Please just fuck me, H-”

He understands just how needy and desperate you are now and wastes no more time, swiftly entering your tight cunt like he was made just for you. Your body always molded together so perfectly––no one knew you better than he did. When you were really pressed for time, he could get you off in less than five minutes. Although his pace is relentless tonight though, there is no rush.

You felt full in such a way that only Harry could make happen. You let out a loud moan as he moves your leg ever so slightly to angle you in such a way that he knew would hit your spongy walls deep inside of you.

“Y’like it? Like me fuckin’ into ya like this?”

“Love it,” you moan breathlessly, reaching to cradle your tits. Harry raises his eyebrows, pace faltering slightly.

“What are you bein’ so quiet for? S’no one here except us,” he reaches in between your sweaty bodies to flick your clit. “Can feel you clenchin’ ‘round me–are you gonna come, puppy? Come around my cock?”

His teasing is all it takes for you to cum around him, clenching down so tightly that it takes a surprising deal of strength for him to keep moving. Harry follows shortly behind you, letting out an animalistic groan that sounds downright filthy. In that moment, you were glad that there was no one else in the house because if there was, they definitely would’ve heard you and Harry coming down from your respective highs together. He speaks after a moment, chest still heaving.

“One room down, the rest of the house to go.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

as always, please let me know what you thought here!

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic

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toomanyrobins2 · 4 years ago

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Those Four Words Pt. 1

Summary: an escalating fight between Jason and his girlfriend leads to a tense two weeks in Wayne Manor

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: language, mentions of sex and excessive drinking, mentions of character death

masterlist // next part

Jason Todd was in a terrible mood, having just got into an argument with Bruce. He decided to go up to his girlfriend’s studio to get away. She had been hard at work the past couple of days and he was getting needy. He came up behind her on the floor and pulled her into his lap. She tried to wiggle out of his arms. “Jay, I'm trying to do something right now.

He tried to snuggle closer to his girlfriend, “I deserve some of your time too.

“Deserve? You’re especially demanding today. What did you do?” Jason scoffed and pulled away. “What has crawled up your ass?”

“You did.”

She managed to escape and turned to look at her boyfriend, “I did? Huh, I think I would’ve remembered such a disgusting journey into your body.

“Dammit, Y/N! Enough with the sarcasm! You know what I’m saying.”

She sighed at Jason’s attitude, “I don’t understand what you’re doing right now, but you are starting a fight just for the sake of an argument. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you what you want right now.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Jason was standing over his girlfriend, his whole body tense, “From any of you.”

“Why are you being like this? What happened?”

“What? You thought the minute we started dating all of our problems would magically disappear? Are you really that naive?”

Y/N put her brushes down and stood. She tried to walk closer, but he matched each step, moving away from her. “Jason, where the hell is this coming from? I thought we had got past this. Even you and Bruce are in a better place.”

“You think I'll ever forget you abandoned me. You all did!”

“Abandon you! What have you been smoking? We thought you died!”

“You replaced me!”

Now, Y/N was angry too and it was rare that anyone saw her this way. She was deadly calm, but the fire was roaring in her eyes, “I did not replace you.”

“That’s right, you were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham to even think about me.”

“That is not fair and you know it. I mourned you. We all mourned your arrogant ass. I never stopped missing you.”

“I saw the articles, Y/N! Don’t pretend you were mourning me. You were too busy whoring yourself around Gotham.”

Her mind went back to three years ago. Jason had died in an explosion set up by the Joker. She was sixteen and her best friend had died, and she hadn’t handled it well. What started as a way to get out of the house with friends, had led to this wild, secret life. Y/N had snuck out at night and used Bruce’s name to get into clubs. She drank anything she could get her hands on and had gone home with multiple men, trying to forget her pain. Once, Bruce had found out, her world had imploded. He sent her away and finally got her the help she should have received when her parents had passed. The only reason Y/N had moved back to the manor was that Jason had been found. She couldn’t believe that he was trying to use her moments of weakness against her, “How dare you throw that back on me. I was just trying to numb the pain. It wasn’t like I was celebrating the fact that you were gone.”

“Yeah, it really looked like you missed me.”

“God Dammit, Jay!” she stamped her foot, knowing it was childish, “If you would just listen to me!”

“Oh fuck off, Y/N! If I had known I was ever going to be stuck with you and your nagging, I wouldn’t have come back.”

“I wish you hadn’t!” The minute the words left Y/N’s mouth, she gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Jason’s emotionless mask slammed into place, and suddenly he was as blank as the day Bruce had found him. He turned to walk out and Y/N chased after him, “Jay, wait! I’m sorry!” He jumped onto his motorcycle and was out the door before she could stop him. She slammed her fist into the wall and cursed in frustration and pain. No one would see either of them for the rest of the day. Y/N stayed in her studio, wondering how they got to the point of shouting such hurtful things at each other.

The next day, they had both shown up for Friday night dinner, as was expected of them. Neither spoke, and the tension was too thick to be cut with a knife. Y/N had tried to pull him aside and apologize after dinner, but he had shot her with a cutting glare and stalked away. The other could tell that something had happened, but no one had the details. Tim wandered into the library after patrol that night, to find her in a chair tucked into the corner. “What are you doing here (Y/N/N)? Isn’t it a movie night with Todd?” He noted the tear tracks down her face but knew she hated showing weakness, so he said nothing about them.

“I wasn’t feeling up to it, so I canceled. I think I’ll head to bed now. Night, Timmy.” Y/N went to her room and cried herself to sleep, the guilt overwhelming her as she played the argument over in her head. If only she had just taken a break, maybe the whole situation could have been avoided. She woke up multiple times in the night, crying out Jason’s name after seeing him and the Joker over and over again. Finally, around 3 in the morning, she gave up on sleep and went to the kitchen to pour herself coffee. She decided to keep busy and started making breakfast for the family.

Alfred was the first to appear in the morning, as usual. Y/N tried to pretend that everything was normal, but nothing could be hidden from the family’s butler. He noted the dark circles under her eyes and the tremors in her hands from over-caffeination. The boys slowly started to emerge, and Alfred started to bring out all the food she had made. She made two plates out of habit and headed for the dining room. Y/N started to hand Jason his breakfast as she had every morning for a year, but suddenly she remembered and pulled her hand away. Jason didn’t even bother to look at her, and her heart clenched. She placed the plate on the table and walked back into the kitchen. “Sorry, Alfred, I’m not hungry. I think I’ll go paint.” She placed the plate she had made for herself on the counter and left.

Y/N’s studio had been a safe space since she had first moved into the manor. She had hidden away when she first arrived at Wayne Manor, unused to such an active family. Bruce had called workers to the manor and redid the room when she had told him she liked art. Now, after years of work, canvasses filled the room on all sides. Some paintings, others photos, she had accumulated in the three years. They hung on the walls and were laid across the floor. She flooded the room with Swan Lake, her sad music, and started to mix her colors. The music she played had become an easy way for the others to discern her moods since she hadn’t spoken to anyone except Fallon, Bruce’s wife, when she first came. Bruce and Dick had installed a speaker system in her studio to drown out the noise when she was overwhelmed, and everyone in the Manor could hear it if she turned it on loud enough. When the first notes hit their ears, all eyes in the dining room turned to Jason. He refused to look up and make eye contact, instead, he stared at the breakfast that had been abandoned on the table. Once everyone had averted their gaze, he pushed away from the table and disappeared.

This led to one of the most uncomfortable weeks in the Manor ever. Y/N barely left her studio and no one saw Jason for three days before he returned. When he did, he started to act as if nothing had happened. The music had eventually stopped playing altogether, so they had no idea what kind of mood she was in. Finally, Damian was the one to gather everyone else together, “Y/N/N has not come out of her studio in a week. Since Buckethead has just decided to pretend nothing has happened. We need to fix this.”

Bruce spoke up first, “Jason and Y/N are both adults. They are both being immature, and it will eventually work itself out.

“How can we fix this when we don’t even know what happened?” Tim looked up from his laptop, “I’ve been checking in on Y/N on the cameras. All she does is paint, and the most she’s slept in days is when she falls asleep accidentally. That never lasts long, and she cries. A lot.”

“Why did Fallon have to leave! We need to fix this, or the family vacation is going to be the worst!” Dick collapsed on the couch. Fallon had finally convinced Bruce that the family needed a vacation, but two weeks before they were supposed to leave, her sister had had a baby. She decided to go help her out and just meet them at the resort. They now had a week left, and it was not looking good. No one wanted to bother their mother since she very rarely took time for herself and was enjoying time with her family. They decided Alfred would be the one to try and convince Y/N to leave the studio at least and eat something.

He appeared in the doorway and watched silently as Y/N worked on a large canvas. He walked over and saw that it was a portrait of the family. “This is beautiful, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her voice was hoarse from disuse.

“What is the plan for this one?” Alfred sat down next to her on the floor.

“Everyone hates photos, but Fallon wanted a family portrait for the sitting room. Since no one can sit still long enough I decided to paint one and give it to her for her birthday,” she slowly sucked in a breath, “Plus they only have the old one, and J--some people-- are missing from it.” Tears started to well up again in her eyes. Alfred wrapped an arm around Y/N and just sat with her for a moment.

“I’ve kicked the boys out of the kitchen. Do you think you could come down and eat something? For me?” She only nodded and they both stood. Y/N sat on a stool and silently ate the soup Alfred had laid out for her. She barely tasted anything, and she was starting to feel dizzy. Her vision started to blur, and the next thing she knew, she was waking up on the floor and had five heads floating above her.

“Hi, guys. Thought the floor looked lonely.” She tried to sit up but was cut off.

“That is it,” Bruce spoke firmly, “You are going to bed, and you are sleeping. I thought you were mature enough to deal with this but I see I was wrong.” He picked Y/N up and noticed she had lost weight. He carried her up the stairs and before he had reached her bedroom, she was already asleep again. Bruce turned to the boys. “At least one of you is staying in here with her and making sure she sleeps.”

Tim volunteered for the first shift and settled into her desk with his laptop. Y/N had barely been asleep an hour before she woke up from a nightmare of Jason dying. She shot up and shouted out his name, before bursting into tears. Tim -- being the awkward person he is -- was ill-prepared to deal with the crying Y/N. The only solution he could think of was to climb into bed with her and pull up a movie. She slowly fell asleep again and clung to Tim like a starfish. When Dick came to relieve Tim and saw that he was unable to leave, he climbed into bed with the duo. Anytime Y/N would start to become distressed, they would calm her down. Eventually, Damian and Titus joined the cuddle pile, the former somewhat reluctantly, grumbling about how he was only doing this for Y/N. Little did the Bat-Family know, Alfred had called Fallon and told her about the situation and she had rushed home.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #batfam #batfam imagine #batfam x reader #tim drake imagine #dick grayson imagine #bruce wayne imagine #damian wayne imagine #batfamily #toomanyrobins #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader

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sunmoonandeddie · 4 years ago

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feelings are fatal (23/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 3,018

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, funeral

masterlist

a/n: this little chapter drop!!!

The funeral was three days later.

You’d taken it upon yourself to stay in the Stark cabin, licking your wounds and mourning the loss of the man you’d spent almost a decade of your life with. You’d mourned losing him before, but this was different.

This was permanent.

There’d be no more chances to go see him in Buffalo. There’d be no more watching him paint in his home studio, seeing the life he built for himself.

You hadn’t seen Bucky since you left the hospital.

You had walked out of Steve’s room, tears rolling down your cheeks. It felt like a death march as you had to face his family, had to face Peggy, the daughter that was named after you. “He’s gone,” you’d said, hands trembling. “I…”

“Oh, honey,” Peggy had whispered, moving to hug you as her own pain welled up in her eyes.

“I have to go,” you had insisted as you quickly slipped out of her grasp, speeding down the hall. You’d left the members of your little family in the waiting room, knowing that they’d gotten to talk to him before he’d passed but still feeling so guilty because you were the last one he’d seen. The last one he’d talked to.

You hadn’t even stopped when Bucky and Wanda had called out your name. You had the car keys in your hand, since he’d given them to you at some point in the blur of the day.

You’d left him there.

The pain was unbearable.

You’d spent the past three days at the bottom of a bottle, blasting all the playlists that Tony had saved. At some point, it had switched to a playlist full of old jazz music from the forties.

You’d thrown the bottle against the wall and watched it shatter.

Sweeping it up while absolutely plastered had been… an adventure. You had the bandages on your feet to prove it.

But you’d gotten it all swept up and into the trash before moving onto the next bottle.

You’d turned off your phone after the fourth phone call and the eighteenth text.

But Bucky didn’t show up. He didn’t come banging on your door like you hoped he would, swooping in and kissing you like the prince in a fairytale.

It was monumentally disappointing.

When you arrived at the funeral, you’d thrown the car into park and then sat in the lot outside for at least forty-five minutes. You’d shown up early entirely because you knew that you’d need time to gather the courage to go inside.

You’d had to order a black dress and heels with express shipping, since you hadn’t exactly thought to pack them when you and Bucky had gone on your little vacation and you didn’t really feel like going out to go shopping.

Your mistake.

It had taken a lot of effort to actually shower and do your hair and makeup. Your ankles felt like they’d give out any moment as you slammed the car door shut and headed inside.

“Hello.”

You almost tripped over your own feet as you heard a feminine voice call out to you. “H-Hi,” you said as you finally came face to face with the woman who had your name. “I’m—”

“I know,” she said, before getting a weak laugh. “Me, too. I’ve heard so much about you. My dad… uh… He really, really loved you.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice a little stiff. You hadn’t done much talking the past few days, unless screaming out lyrics counted.

Yeah, it counted.

Sorta.

“Um… H-How is Peggy—I mean, your mom—doing?”

“She’s handling it about as can be expected,” she said with a smile as she glanced to where the Brit in question was. It was strange, seeing the woman that was named after you. She was older than you by a few years, and had a few gray hairs. But she looked so much like the perfect mix of Steve and Peggy… “But dad was getting up there… more so than any other man. They both knew it was coming. I just don’t know if mom will be able to hold on without him much longer.”

Great. Because that’s exactly what you wanted to hear.

“Here, let me introduce my siblings!” She said, calling them over before you could say no.

By the time the actual service started, you’d met far more Rogerses than you had ever wanted to.

It was exhausting. They were all so… kind. Despite everything, despite the fact that you were literally their father’s ex girlfriend, despite the fact that you were the last person their father spoke to before he died, and not his wife.

“My husband, Steve, has always been what his best friend called him. A punk,” Peggy said as she stood up before everyone, letting out a weak laugh as she glanced back at the open casket. “But he was so many things. Brave. Outspoken. Generous. Stubborn…”

Your eyes stayed on her, even though you stopped hearing what she was saying. You didn’t have the energy to listen to a eulogy.

That is, until she said your name.

“Huh?” You said, suddenly on high alert. Some part of you was aware that your team was sitting in the front row, including Bucky. You’d been too busy speaking with Steve’s children to talk to them, not that you minded that. You weren’t sure if you were ready to face them.

“Would you please come up and say a few words?” Peggy asked gently, getting down and holding out her hand to you.

“I…” Fuck. You couldn’t say no. It was a god damn funeral. “Okay,” you said after a long moment, placing your hand in Peggy’s and letting her lead you up to the podium. The sea of people staring at you made your blood run cold, your hands trembling as you gripped the wood. “Um… H-Hi…” You introduced yourself, you voice cracking. “I’ve known Steve… since I was eighteen years old. And we were together for almost a decade.” You snorted, shaking your head as you glanced back at the casket, your heart stopping for a moment when your eyes rested on his face. “I know… most of you are probably wondering why the hell I’m up here. Why the hell anyone would want their husband’s ex girlfriend speaking at their funeral, but uh… Steve helped make me the person I am today.” Your heart was hammering inside of your chest, threatening to break your ribs. “He taught me when to push myself, how to trust my instincts.” Also all things that Bucky taught you. You could feel his seafoam blue gaze on you, pinning you in place. “I know it’s cheesy… But he taught me what it means to do the right thing, even when it means standing up to someone you love and telling them so. He taught me how to keep going even when my world was crumbling.” Your heart was shattering as your eyes met Bucky’s. “He taught me to chase after what I want the most in the world, and to accept nothing but the best.” Tears were starting to roll down your cheeks. “Steve was a bright light in the world, even when he was in his darkest moments.” You gave a watery smile, your hands clammy. “Steve was not the shield, and those of us who knew him personally know that. The shield was Steve. He made it into the symbol that it is. A symbol of what every person can be, what they should be. What we should all aspire to be.” Your throat was starting to close up. “But he was showing us that even before the serum, wasn’t he? Because it doesn’t matter how small you are, or where you come from. You can make the choice everyday to make the world a little better.” Sniffling, you swallowed around the lump in his throat. “And I know I’m rambling, but I really didn’t expect to be speaking here today, so please forgive me, but I just… I never thought he’d die like this. There were hundreds of missions where I thought… this is it. This is where I lose him. I always knew he’d fight until he couldn’t anymore. The fact that he got the honor of passing like he did… what feels like a million years old and surrounded by his loved ones in a hospital… just like any other man… I can’t think of a better happy ending for him.” You took a deep breath. “But there’s someone who should be up here more than me. Someone who knew him from the beginning. From playground to battlefield and beyond, right?”

Bucky’s entire body was trembling as he slowly got to his feet and walked up to the podium. But before you could leave, his hand slipped into yours and squeezed, a silent question being asked.

Stay?

And how could he ever think you’d leave him?

You squeezed his hand back, staying by his side as he slowly started to speak. He spoke about the first time they met, all the fights he broke up.

Until the end of the line.

You guessed it really was the end. The grand finale of a life that wasn’t always easy, but was always worth it.

Watching Steve’s casket being lowered into the ground felt like a hallucination. How could it possibly be real?

The feeling that you’d gotten in the hospital was washing back over you like a tsunami. The overwhelming feeling of despair, of disbelief.

Of anger.

You wanted more time. There wasn’t ever enough time and now he was gone.

You slipped away after the funeral ended, getting into your car and just… driving. You knew you’d eventually make it back to the cabin, but you needed to roll the windows down and just feel the icy cold wind in your hair, on your skin.

Making you feel alive.

When you got back to the cabin, the sun had set, stars twinkling overhead in a brilliance you’d never see in the city.

You held your heels in your hand as you stumbled into the house, tossing them to the side as you headed for the kitchen. “FRIDAY, put on some music,” you said quietly.

“What playlist would you like?”

“Read the room, Fri,” you said simply, sighing as you grabbed a bottle of wine from the kitchen. She started to play music throughout the house, and you bit your lip as she started to play a blend of your favorites. Mostly Black Pumas and The Teskey Brothers. “Fri, can you turn on the fireplace?”

Warm light filled the living room and kitchen, flickering softly.

You didn’t bother changing as you collapsed onto the fur rug with just your wine and your bottle opener. “Dumb… cork…,” you huffed as you worked to get it open.

You were about halfway through the bottle when you heard a car pull up, followed by the slam of the door. Your mind was fuzzy as you watched the front door open and Bucky walk in. “Hi.”

He stopped in the entryway, still wearing the all black suit he’d donned at the funeral. “Hey,” he breathed out. He couldn’t help but snort as he saw the bottle of wine in your hands. “Yeah… It has been that kind of day, huh?”

When you held it out to him, you couldn’t tear your eyes away as you watched his pink lips wrap around the bottle and he took a swig.

Fuck, you had it so bad.

“How are you feeling?” You asked as you watched him stand by the end of the sofa. “It’s been… a rough day.”

“I’ve been better,” he said simply as he took another drink. “But I know I’ll feel better once you and I are speaking again.”

Your heart squeezed inside your chest as your eyes met, your cheeks flushing. “Right… I… I think we were both… frazzled… But I’m so sorry.”

Pain and Misery by The Teskey Brothers started to play over the stereo, filling the house with soothing R&B. It was one of your favorite songs in the whole entire world.

“I've been in love, honey, you know it's true… Was since that day I first laid my eyes on you…”

“Malen’kaya,” he said as he set the bottle on the coffee table, holding out his hand to you. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Could you forgive me for how I acted?”

“Love is a crazy game, baby… It's how I feel… It makes you oh, so high, but it takes so long to heal…”

You nodded after a long moment, slipping your hand into his and squeezing as he tugged you to your feet. “I can. I do,” you said, the wine making your head fill with bubbles.

“So, please, yeah, yeah… Won't you stay with me? 'Cause since you gone, it's all pain and misery. Honey, please, yeah, yeah… Won't you stay with me? 'Cause since you gone it's pain and misery…”

Something inside of you clicked back into place as he pulled you close to his chest, the two of you immediately starting to sway. Falling back into step with him was as easy as breathing, you were finding.

Perhaps even easier.

“Sometimes I curse that day of when you came along… I was happy but it's been pain now for so very long… Oh, I'm begging you, honey… Please, won't you stay? 'Cause I been so lonely since you gone away…”

“I don’t like not talking to you,” he said quietly, his lips pressing to your forehead. “Feels so wrong… Like I can’t breathe.”

Funny how you’d just had almost the same thought.

“Everyday is pain… In the end, it's hard to see… Every fateful day is oh, so sad, now that I've lost the best friend that I ever had…”

He was so warm, so comforting. Like a teddy bear.

“I don’t like not talking to you either,” you admitted as you nuzzled closer to him, breathing in the musky scent of his cologne. It was intoxicating. “Can we please never do it again?”

“Honey, please, won't you stay with me? 'Cause since you gone it's all pain and misery…”

He grinned against your forehead, his hand moving from your hip as he slid his arm around your waist to pull you even closer. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Honey, please, whoa please, won't you stay with me? 'Cause since you gone it's pain and misery…”

“Jamie…,” you whispered, your voice cracking as you tried to gather the words you wanted to say.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” He asked, resting his head against yours.

“Hey, I'm begging you, honey… Whoa… I want you to love me… Yeah, I want you to love me… I need you so bad…”

“What does this mean?” You asked as the song ended and it shifted to another. “For us, I mean?” You were starting to panic, anxiety welling up in your chest and causing you to word vomit. “Because I can’t do this back and forth, I can’t. I won’t. I won’t survive it. I can’t keep pretending like we’re just friends and that the way you make me feel doesn’t make me… doesn’t make me…”

“Doesn’t make you what?” He asked quietly, not letting you move away from his secure embrace. “Please… Because I can’t keep acting as though you’re not my everything.” He held the back of your head, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. “Please… Please, tell me you love me. Because I…” He rested his forehead against yours, a tear rolling down his cheek. “The love I have for you has rewritten every piece of DNA in my body,” he said. “It’s in my blood, my bones… You are written in my heart, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. And…” He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “And if you don’t love me the way I love you, that’s just fine. As long as I have you in my life… I’ll be whatever you need.”

“Jamie…,” you said with a weak laugh. You were openly crying, though you weren’t sure when you had started. “Oh, Jamie… Do you really think I could ever not love you?” Your nose nudged against his as you wrapped both of your arms around his neck. “If you don’t kiss me, we’re gonna have a fight.”

The smile that split open his face was blinding. The kiss he planted upon your lips was absolutely filthy. A mess of teeth and tongue and grins and giggles, a tangle of feelings pent up for so long that you were sure you’d never get them all out. You’d spend the rest of your life unraveling all the ways he made you feel, and you’d do it with a smile.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much,” you said as you pressed yourself against him. “I never wanna be without you ever again.”

“You never have to,” he breathed out as he nipped at your lower lip. Without further ado, he reached down and slipped his arm under your thighs. You let out a squeak as he scooped you up, carrying you bridal style up the stairs. “I’m gonna love you so good,” he said with a growl.

You almost hit your head on the door frame as he carried you into the guest bedroom you two were occupying, squealing as he tossed you onto the bed. “Jamie!”

“Yes, malen’kaya?” He asked as he shoved off his suit jacket, toeing off his dress shoes at the same time.

“Nothing,” you said, giggling as you started to strip down, too. “Nothing at all.”

When you two finally finished hours later, the wine had worn off, and he was asleep. You’d curled up on top of his chest, his cool vibranium hand resting on the small of your back, helping you cool off.

“Jamie?” You murmured, testing if he was asleep. When he grunted, you smiled, intertwining your fingers with his flesh hand. “I love you…”

“I love you more, baby.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n

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vivianweasley · 4 years ago

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Let Her Go (F.W. x Reader)

Summary: “Only know you love her when you let her go.” childhood friends to lovers, unrequited love

Prompt: This is for @vogueweasley‘s 1K writing challenge and the prompt is #44 “What am I in your life? Because as of lately I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.” Congrats again lovely!!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst to a bit of fluff, unrequited love, mention of alcohol (Fred being drunk), language (one curse word), Fred being stupid

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Did I write another friends to lovers with unrequited love? Yes, but I love this idea and I’m just writing to cope. The inspiration is Let Her Go by Passenger! Hope you guys would like it! (Also, let’s pretend they used telephone)

Special thanks to @valwritesx for the support<3

Disclaimer: all the pictures used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on another site without explicit permission! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

In your memories, you were always following Fred Weasley around.

You followed him around when he and George were throwing dungbombs in their neighbor’s garden. You were six, and he was seven.

You followed him around when it was your first year at Hogwarts. You were an awkward first year, but he has already established quite a reputation.

You followed him everywhere. Whether it was a quidditch game or detention, you were always there with him. Some people called you his sidekick, but you never really minded because you were absolutely head over heels for him.

You knew he knew about your stupid little crush; you weren’t trying to hide your feelings anyway. And you knew that your feelings weren’t reciprocated, but that didn’t matter. Loving him was your own business. Plus, you knew that at least you meant something to him, so you’ve still got a chance.

You loved him with all your heart and without a doubt. It was one-sided and lonely, but you never cared. Well, at least not until now.

It was your party to celebrate receiving a brilliant job offer from America. All of your friends were there.

“I’m so happy for you! But I’m also gonna miss you a lot!” George exclaimed for like the twentieth time today.

You chuckled, “I know, Georgie, I’ll miss you too! And I’m not leaving until the end of the next month. I’ve still got a lot to take care of before I go.” Now that you were actually talking about leaving, the whole concept of living in another country so far away finally began to feel more realistic. “There are just so many things and people I’ll miss.”

“By people, you mean Fred, right?” Ginny teased, “Speaking of which, where is he?”

“I don’t know. He promised he would come,” you replied, couldn’t control the blush that was climbing up your cheeks.

Ginny was right. Of course you were going to miss all of your friends dearly, but you were also going to miss Fred just a little more than the others. And that’s why you were a bit disappointed that he was so late to your party. You couldn’t stop yourself from checking the clock and the door every now and then. The butterflies in your stomach started dancing whenever you heard something outside, but they always die down when you realized it wasn’t him.

The clock soon struck 12, and when you were saying goodbye to the last of the guests, you finally accepted the fact that Fred was not going to show up tonight.

You were helping at the joke shop the next day, and it was already noon when you heard Fred walking down the stairs.

“Morning,” you could still hear the sleepiness in his voice, and you could tell from his messy hair and puffy eyes that it was a hangover. You frowned a little but you tried not to overthink. Surely he had a good reason, right?

“It’s already noon, brother,” George asked the question for you, “where were you last night?”

“I ran into Lee after work, and we went to the pub. Why?”

“Why? It was Y/N’s party last night, you forgot?”

“Wait, it was last night? Ah shit, I forgot. I’m sorry Y/N,” he turned to look at you. You could see the sorry on his face, but you couldn’t hear it in his voice. You knew that expression all too well. It was the same reaction whenever he got caught playing pranks on someone. He was saying that he’s sorry, but you knew he didn’t mean it.

“Fred, you do realize that she’s leaving soon, right?” George was finding this unbelievable too.

“Oh c’mon, last time I checked, we still have something called a portkey. And I’m sure Y/N will be visiting us pretty often, right Y/N?” The carelessness in his voice stung you.

Hurt, mixed with anger, was rushing to your brain. It was the moment that struck you, a moment that should have happened a long time ago.

You always thought that even though Fred didn’t love you back, at least you were still a very important friend to him. But now you’ve finally realized that maybe this was just another self-comforting lie. It was not the first time he forgot something about you, and it seemed like he never cared anyway.

“What am I in your life?” You asked quietly, “Because as of lately, I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.”

“What are you saying? Y/N, you’re not making any sense.”

“I always thought it’s alright that my feelings aren’t reciprocated because it’s just my own business. But I’m not just that stupid girl who has a crush on you; I’m also your friend! And friends shouldn’t treat friends like nothing.” Your voice sounded calm, but tears were streaming down your face, “It was always me who’s looking for you and thinking about you, but friendship takes two, Fred. Maybe you should start trying too.”

Then you just stormed out of the joke shop, before George could try to talk you round and before Fred could probably tell a joke to laugh it off.

One week later, you left for your new job in a hurry. You said goodbye to every one of your friends, except for Fred.

Fred was feeling guilty but also confused. Why did you snap like that? What he did was surely just a small mistake, right? And he wasn’t too worried. He was sure that you would forgive him and come back to him. You always do. In fact, he was convinced that he could see you again the next holiday.

Halloween night, George had plans, so Fred was in charge of closing up tonight. Looking at the empty bowl of sweets on the counter, Fred thought about you. You always remembered to fill it up, especially around Halloween.

The autumn wind was getting cold, and he pulled his coat tighter as he walked outside. The kids on the street were all dressed up, going from door to door trick-or-treating. Fred remembered how you two and George would always go trick-or-treating together on Halloween since you were kids. Even after you all grew up, you would still drag him to go with you. But now he was walking alone in his business suit, on his way home. This moment he felt as if the kid inside him has left with you.

When he got home, he turned on the TV and started switching channels absentmindedly. You should be there, suggesting to watch a horror movie, but then deciding on something family-friendly. You would always try to have a Halloween movie marathon but end up falling asleep, lying on his shoulder. He found it adorable, but he never told you that.

Fred sighed as he laid back on the couch. This was the first Halloween without you.

Christmas morning, Fred walked downstairs, noticing something was different in the air. The Burrow was quieter. Sure, most of his family were already up and were gathered around the Christmas tree, chatting and laughing. But you weren’t there.

You weren’t there, showing up at the Burrow way too early in the morning. You weren’t there knocking on his door and waking him up using a cheerful, sing-song voice. He would always groan and tell you to give him five more minutes. But this year, when he woke up to the mechanical sound of the alarm clock, he really missed your cheerful voice.

Fred walked downstairs with everyone wishing him a Merry Christmas, but his eyes were searching the crowd for a glimpse of you that was just impossible to be found. This was the first Christmas without you.

New Year’s Eve, Fred and George were at the local pub’s New Year countdown party, along with the other boys. Just like usual, the boys had too much drink and passed out in the pub.

When Fred was only half-awake, he heard your voice calling him, “Freddie! C’mon, let’s get you home!” A soft smile appeared on his lips. You were back! He knew you would be back for the new year. He knew you wouldn’t leave him for too long.

You were always there to pick him up and carry him home after New Year’s party. He was always amazed at how you managed to carry him as he was taller than you, but you were always there for him. He just felt so lucky now to have you in his life, and seeing you in front of him made him smile like an idiot.

You were frowning seeing him lying on the floor, but you soon gave in when you saw that smile. You chuckled and whispered, “Happy New Year, Freddie.”

The soft smile stayed on Fred’s lips. He felt at home.

When Fred woke up again, he found himself lying on the floor of the pub. The pub was already empty. The boys were already gone. Someone must have picked them up, but there was no one for him. He finally began to realize that it was just a dream. You were still in America, and he was still a loser who’s lying alone on the cold floor on the first day of the new year.

Fred managed to walk out of the pub. The freezing wind was slapping on his face, trying to sober him up. He walked past a coffee shop. That was your favorite.

You were all he could think of now. Fred knew that you had a crush on him, but he always believed that it was just a stupid little childhood crush and it would fade as soon as you all grow up. He was just too familiar with you, and familiarity wasn’t what he thought he was looking for in romance.

But you were already in every part of his life. No matter where he goes or what he does, you were always there. But now you weren’t.

There was the first time Fred told a joke, and you weren’t the first to laugh. He loved the way you laugh, for it could always brighten up his whole day, but he never admitted it.

There was the first time he was humming a song, and you weren’t there to sing along. He loved your voice, for it could always calm him down, but he wouldn’t tell you that.

There was the first time when he realized that he needed you in his life.

The first time when he realized that he loved you more than he thought he did.

It was like muscle memory for him to remember everything about you, but he wasn’t even aware of that, and you obviously didn’t know too. Instead of showing you how much he loved and appreciated you, he just took you for granted because he thought you would never leave.

Fred dialed your number that night. He thought he might go crazy if he couldn’t hear your voice tonight. As he waited for you to pick up, he felt the inside of his stomach were all twisted together, but it was soon replaced by butterflies when he heard your voice.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Y/N, it’s me, Fred,” he didn’t know why he stuttered, “S-so, I was wondering...do you know where is the photo of us at the station? It was your first year of school. Did you take it with you?”

“No, I gave it to George. Why?” He couldn’t tell your emotion through the phone. Were you annoyed? Or were you happy to hear his voice too?

“Oh, umm, nothing, just missing the old days.”

“Oh, okay...Anything else?”

There were so many things that he wanted to say. He wanted to tell you that he’s sorry and he missed you so much, but you sounded impatient. So all he managed to say was, “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

There was a few seconds of silence; then he heard you reply, “Happy New Year, Fred.”

Hanging up the phone, Fred felt his heart sank. He hated how emotionless you sounded, and he knew he had to do something. Maybe he couldn’t convince you to come back to him, but at least he owed you an apology.

Valentine’s Day. Evening, you walked out of the building you worked in. It was on a wizarding street just like Diagon Alley, so it didn’t take you too long to adjust to the new environment.

The shops on this street were all having Valentine’s specials, and it reminded you of the Valentine’s specials of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Fred always had the most interesting and romantic ideas-you shook your head. You promised yourself not to think about him anymore.

A shop at the corner captured your attention. You’ve never seen this shop before. You looked for the name of the shop and the sign above read “WWW’.

Just when you thought you were losing your mind and associating everything with Fred again, the shop owner walked out.

Fred smiled when he saw you. The same beaming smile that had you head over heels for him for as long as you could remember. “Hi, I'm new here. Would you mind showing me around?”

A/N: Sorry if the ending feels a bit rushed! I felt like it made sense to end here so the reader could decide if she wants to forgive him or not.

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bokunosimpfiction · 3 years ago

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Yandere!Heisenberg x Reader Pt 3

A/N: Since y’all demanded a plot that’s what you’ll get. Will it be good? No. I’ve never written anything with a plot in my entire life. Ever. Not even when I did Nanowrimo or whatever. I just bullshitted the whole thing. Like I’ll do with this fic. Y’all are going to have to remind me to update because I have the attention span of a goat. I’ll try to update this on Saturdays??? IDK at this point. ALSO, WHY THE FUCK IS THIS SO POPULAR?????????? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY NOTES THIS HAS ON AO3???? 69????SIXITY FUCKING NINE??? I HATE EVERYTHING MY LEGACY WILL BE READER CALLING HEISENBERG DOOFSCHMIRTZ I HATE EVRYTHING DSHFUGSADFJ

Synopsis: You have totally, %100, given up on escaping. Totally. You haven't been gathering supplies for one, final last hurray. Nope. Totally not. All you have to do is persuade Heisenberg of that so you can change your mind at the last minute. Y’all know the trigger warning for this series but if you don’t tw:kidnapping (implied)

Taglist: it’s exclusivly @localdepressedvampire so if you want to be on it for just this story or for all my pieces fill out the google doc in my pinned post or dm me and I’ll put you on it. :)

You’ve made a breakthrough in your long-term plan of escapism. Even with the mini escape attempts that were really about exploring the factory and less about actually trying to get out, you hadn’t made a lot of progress: until now.

Well, two, really… Okay, maybe 1 ½. Firstly, you found a sawed-off two-barrel shotgun. With ammo. In fact, there was a various amount of ammo around the factory, but no actual gun. Until now. The second discovery, which is nowhere near as useful, was a window. Which was probably 50 or more feet up from the ground. You didn’t get a chance to inspect it that much, considering as soon as you saw it and got a glimpse at the far-off ground, you had to run again from Lycans.

Which gives you a basic idea of a way to escape. You knew where the ammo was, you knew where the gun was and had a route to the edge of the building, and hopefully could find stairs at the end of the hallway. Now all you had to do was find a time where you could be gone long enough to get a decent head start before, he notices you’re even gone. Even when he was in the workshop, he kept a close eye on you, keeping you in arms-length to the point where it taxed on both of your mental health.

And even then, in that chair in the small room, you watch him work in the finer details on something the size of your head and torso. You try not to look at the phone in your lap, he doesn’t even know you have it, much less how great the reception is in the building. How did he not know about his old phone that was still working fine? Oh well, he doesn’t need to know you’re looking at memes and reading feel-good wolf-star fanfic on ao3.

The best idea you had was to leave him while he was asleep, but there were two some issues with that: he clung to you like his life depended on it, your back to his chest and arms around you almost tight enough to keep you awake; it was dark as hell in the hallways of the factory as is, but it would be impossible to navigate safely with the lights; and the Lycans were most active outside at night, which was where you were trying to go. They’ve tried to eat you before as they show no discrimination on food.

The only way to get a good enough head start would be to leave while he didn’t notice you were gone, and wouldn’t notice for a long, long time. And that when it hit you. The only time he ever left you by yourself was when he had to deal with the other three lords. And while he left you in that basement that you originally woke up in, you had memorized your way out and found that going up five flights of stairs took you to that faithful widow.

Would you have enough time to explore and look for an actual exit/entrance, or should you play it safe and find a way to go out that window. You wanted to laugh to yourself, you’d never think that going down a 50ft plus drop would be considered safe, but here you were, kidnapped and held hostage by one of the people your late grandmother warned you not to associate with, or even go near. The letter you received directly quoted “the four lords and their mother, Mother Miranda, are not to be approached or associated with at any costs. You’ll know them when you see them, they smell like death and money. See them and run.”

You can’t help but find that ironic, considering that you did try to run, heeded her warning, and still faced the consequences that were far worse than she had warned you about. You regretted coming here, to this small village, when you first arrived: no friends, and even those you tried to approach held you to her standard and expected them to be just like her. You were far from her kind and optimistic nature (at least that’s what you heard of her; you hadn’t even known of her whereabouts until she was dead).

Even the duke, who had helped smuggle you into the village, didn’t seem fond of you. It was a shame, you tried so hard to impress him. But he saw you to a point where you could easily reach her old cottage without having too many issues, turned his cart around, and left without a good-bye. It bothered you to no end that your only companion for about a year or so was an elderly outside cat and the creaking noises the walls made at night.

And then the cat died and not even a week later you got kidnapped. You never considered yourself lucky, but damn if that wasn’t the worst streak of luck you’ve had in a long time.

You pretend to turn a page in your book and scroll through your Instagram feed, seeing friends having fun at the beach, or studying at the library, or your old best friend taking selfies in provocative clothing to your ex-boyfriend. Did she forget he cheated on you? She wasn’t always the smartest, but she brought that heartbreak upon herself. You see a photo of your mom, she had posted a picture of a black and white photo of her with her mom, you’re guessing, you have no idea who that old woman is.

This is the last photo I had with my mom before she died. We lost contact after I moved out. I wish we parted on better terms, Nana.

She’s in a prairie dress, holding an ancient-looking key in one hand, and the other wrapped around her mom, a middle-aged woman with long hair in two braids and a face that had too many stress wrinkles. You guess your mom was as bad as you were in college. The background looks dreary. You would have guessed it to be the quality of the photo if you hadn’t recognized the house behind them as the house you lived in used to live in.

The loops on the handle of the key look familiar. You spread your fingers apart to zoom in and see the blurry engravings on the side. It was the payment you gave to sneak into the village. You thought it was a worthless family heirloom at most and found it strange that he had even found interest in the key, or even valued it deeper than money in general. Maybe this photo or other photos of you and your family would help out.

Why is that key suddenly piquing your interest? Were you that bored, as to sit there and think about a key that was at least twice your age? A key that you didn’t even have. You needed a hobby besides escapism and rejecting your captor’s sexual advances. You look up at him again, only to find him leaning against the desk, hat off and sunglass placed on his forehead, his gaze on you. It wasn’t his normal piercing one, that studied you and calculated your every move, but soft and lazy. His current gaze was dreamy; he was daydreaming about you. You found that equally undaring s it was unnerving.

“Karl.”

“Yes, Sweetiepea?” Honestly, what the fuck.

“Firstly, why are you staring at me like that? Secondly, that is the most disgusting way to use that pet name. I need to take a shower after you called me that.”

He chuckles light-heartedly. Even his softer more genuine, happy chuckles are booming and loud. “Okay… Sugarplum!” And he busts out laughing.

Clearly dodging the first question and focusing on the second. You can’t believe you gave him ammo for his annoying-you-gun. And you thought you’d grown immune to most of his… less-savory traits. Were you growing used to him? Next thing you know you’re going to like him and develop Stockholm syndrome!

“You’re a shit head, hobo magneto…” You turn your head away and let your hair cover half your face so he can’t see you smile. You’ll miss him when you escape and get the duke to smuggle you back to your home in Bucharest. But only a little. Just because calling Heisenberg these names are funny.

“Why don’t you call me by my name, I know you know it.”

“You sure about that?” You quip back.

“You’ve lived with me for at least two months now!”

“Hm…. I think I know your name! It’s uh…” You are totally faking not knowing his name. “It’s… Heidi Carlson? Yeah, that sounds about right!”

“It’s Karl Heisenberg!”

“Quit being so silly, Heidi! Maybe it’s nap-time!” This was a little too fun.

He looks back at his project for a moment and genuinely considers it. “I know you’re being antagonistic but you’re probably right.” And with that, he walks towards you and goes to scoop you up. You have to shut your book quickly in order for him not to notice the phone in between its pages before you let him pick you up.

He immediately notices that. “Are… Are you sick?”

“No! Of course not!” Because you genuinely aren’t sick, and he’s already up in your business as-is, you don’t need him dotting on you because he thinks you’re sick or something. You’ll go fucking crazy.

“You’ve put in zero effort into anything remotely physical since your last little failed escape attempt.” He gave it a little bit of thought. “You’ve given up, haven’t you, and you’re just depressed about it aren’t you?”

You want to say no, you really do, but if Heisenberg thinks you’ve given up on escaping, perhaps it’ll give you enough space to plan the big one. The reverse heist so to speak. “No- I… okay maybe I have but I still don’t like you.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good girl. Now let’s get us that well-deserved nap.”

You plug your nose and turn away as a joke. “You’ve gotta take a bath first, you smell like oil and sweat.” You don’t fight it, because you have to play the part, but you still have to act a little bit like yourself.

“Okay, fine doll, but don’t think you’ve escaped my barrage of affection, because as soon as I get out of the shower-“

You bonk him. And he looks at you so confused before he smiles and leans down to nuzzle his nose against yours. You try to hold the bile back in your mouth and lean forward and peck his lips before leaning back. You failed at trying to not visibly gag.

“Ew… I can’t believe I just kissed you.”

“Well, I guess someone caught feelings… Didn’t they?”

#Karl Heisenberg #yandere Heisenberg #yandere resident evil #resident evil x reader #yandere heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x reader #tw: kidnapping #fluff #well it's as fluffy as it gets with sarcastic reader-chan and yandere heisenberg #he thinks this is fluffy #because he's fucking delusional

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fridayfirefly · 4 years ago

Text

Virtual Sleepover

Read Virtual Sleepover on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 4 - Internet Friends

Quarantine had been rough at Wayne Manor, but for Tim Drake, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was a bright light through it all. Tim was getting ahead of himself, though. The story of Marinette Dupain-Cheng started on March 20th, 2020. Panic over coronavirus was sweeping the nation. Bruce had gathered all of the members of the Wayne family into the dining room to explain the new rules of the house. No one was to go in or out. Groceries would be delivered to the house. There would be no superhero outings for at least two weeks. Tim didn't think his family would be able to survive, trapped in a house together.

So to preserve his sanity, Tim turned to the internet. There were hundreds of cold cases that he had put on the backburner and hundreds of forums and websites dedicated to solving cold cases. Tim turned to the most popular website and started dumping information, hoping for someone to show up and work through it with him. That's how Tim met Marinette. @MarinetteDC showed up on his page with a friend request, a wide range of technical knowledge about textiles and designs, and about seven different theories on a murder case Tim considered all but unsolvable. Her sleep schedule was just as chaotic as Tim's and she also drank a near-inhuman amount of coffee. Marinette Dupain-Cheng enthralled Tim. And when the chaos of his house threatened to make Tim lose his mind, Marinette became his lifeline.

"Can you hear me?"

Tim nodded. "Yep!"

"Nice!" cheered Marinette. Tim relished the opportunity to see her face, even if it was through a zoom call. "So what do we want to do first? I don't have class until Monday, so we have the whole weekend ahead of us."

"I think we should start with the iconic sleepover classic: truth or dare," suggested Tim.

"Alright. Truth or dare, Tim?"

"Dare." Tim was confident in his abilities to pull off any stunt she might come up with. However, his confidence started to fade as he watched a devious look grow on her face.

"I dare you to bake a batch of cookies - any kind of cookies you want - without using a recipe."

Tim blinked, trying to recall the last time he had baked. Besides a few times helping Alfred out in the kitchen, Tim wasn't certain that he had ever used the Wayne Manor kitchen for anything other than brewing coffee and heating frozen pizzas. "Could I have a new dare?"

Marinette shook her head, the grin on her face demonstrating exactly how much fun she was having, watching the panic in Tim's eyes. "I'll give you one hint on how to make them, but only one, so use it wisely."

Tim groaned, unplugging his laptop from its charger so he could move it to the kitchen. "I'm not actually certain I know all of the ingredients in cookies. Or how long you bake them for. I feel like an hour is probably too long, but I feel like half an hour might not be enough time."

On the other side of the screen, Marinette tried to stifle her giggles but was unable to keep them all in. "No offense Tim, but this is going to be a disaster. I can't wait."

Tim let out another groan. "Must you torture me?"

"How about you keep the laptop camera pointed towards the oven, that way I can tell you once something starts to burn?" Marinette joked.

Tim knew that she was teasing, but honestly, he knew he could use all the help he could get. Still, he wanted to preserve at least a little of his dignity. "Very funny," Tim said sarcastically, setting the laptop down on the kitchen counter.

"Start with ingredients," Marinette advised.

"What all goes into a chocolate chip cookie..?" mused Tim. He got out the flour, white and brown sugar, eggs, butter, vanilla extract, and three different types of chocolate chips that Alfred kept stocked.

Marinette raised an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

Tim cast a wary gaze upon his ingredients. It didn't seem like enough, but at the same time he couldn't figure out what he was missing. Tim sighed. "I'm ready to use my hint. Tell me what I forgot."

"You forgot to get out the salt, and more importantly, the baking soda," advised Marinette.

"Can I have a second hint?" asked Tim as he gathered his two missing ingredients.

"That depends on what you're asking," teased Marinette.

"I'm going to start listing measurements, and you tell me if it's too much or not enough."

Marinette pretended to think it over before replying, "I'll do it, but only because I want the cookies to come out edible, not because we're friends or anything like that. There are no friends in the Dupain-Cheng kitchen," said Marinette, her voice filled with faux seriousness.

"Lucky for me, these cookies are being made in the Wayne kitchen, and we're all very nice here, and we don't let Tim burn his cookies."

Marinette giggled. "You have a point there," she acquiesced. "Start listing your measurements."

Tim grabbed the measuring cup and starting approximating. "Two cups flour?"

"That will make about five dozen cookies."

"One cup of each type of sugar?"

Marinette shook her head. "You'll want a 3/4 cup of each."

The rest of the measuring process proceeded smoothly, with Tim guessing measurements of fluctuating accuracy (he correctly guessed that he would need two eggs, but his guess of a half-cup of baking soda led to Marinette questioning whether he had ever been in a kitchen before). Once Tim got the cookie dough mixed, spooned out onto a tray, and put in the oven, they resumed their game of truth-or-dare.

"Your turn, Marinette. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

Tim tried to think of a good question to ask. "Since you've now seen how abysmal I am in the kitchen, I want to know one thing that you're terrible at."

Marinette scrunched up her brow. "It's nowhere near as bad as you're inability to crack an egg-"

Tim winced a little, remembering the painstaking process of digging out fragments of eggshell after he completely shattered it in his attempts to crack it.

"-But I have really bad depth perception. I trip over every little crack in the sidewalk. I'm probably the clumsiest person you'll ever meet."

Tim chuckled. "And here I thought you were perfect."

Marinette grinned. "Almost perfect. Truth or dare?"

"I'll pick truth this time, and hopefully avoid being humiliated again."

"I'll go easy on you this round. When was the last time you lied, and what was it about?"

Tim combed back through his memory of the past week, trying to pick out the last time he lied. "I think it was yesterday morning. Dick asked me if the coffee I was drinking was my first coffee of the day. I said yes, but really I hadn't slept that night so I just decided to arbitrarily count my start of the day at the time I would have woken up had I actually gone to sleep."

"So how many coffee's had you had yesterday?"

Tim shrugged. "Since midnight? Probably three or four. I've gotten away with a lot more coffee since I modified the Keurig in my room to stop making so much noise."

"I'm lucky," said Marinette. "My parents sleep so far away from me that they can't hear my Keurig."

"Truth or dare?" asked Tim, continuing the game.

"Truth."

"What's the most embarrassing thing you've ever done because you had a crush on someone?"

Marinette flushed red, and Tim immediately knew that this was going to be a good story. "Once I accidentally sent a text to my crush so I stolehisphoneanddeletedthetext." Marinette rushed the last few words, so fast that Tim couldn't quite make them out.

"What was that?"

"I stole his phone and deleted the text before he could read it. In my defense, I made a lot of questionable decisions at that age."

Tim burst out laughing. "How old were you?"

"I was thirteen," admitted Marinette.

Tim couldn't stop laughing at the absurdity of her claims. "You couldn't have asked him to borrow his phone and deleted it then?"

"I was in panic mode. It was between steal his phone or destroy his phone."

"Those were your two options?!" exclaimed Tim.

Marinette blushed even more furiously. "It's your turn. Don't expect me to go easy on you this round. Truth or dare?"

Tim kept up the trend. "Truth."

"What was the worst thing you did at thirteen?"

Tim thought back to his days as Robin, and the many, many stories he could tell. In the end, he settled on one that Jason still brought up when he needed leverage over Tim. "It's not as bad as phone thievery, but it's still a pretty funny story, looking back on it. You know how I have two older brothers, right?"

"Dick and Jason," Marinette confirmed.

"Well, one night I managed to convince Dick to let me drive Bruce's favorite car. Now, keep in mind, I had never actually driven a car before. Surprisingly, I wasn't that bad at driving. I made it home without incident - that is, until I tried to park the car back in the garage and accidentally crashed into Jason's motorcycle. For years after that, Jason used the threat of telling Bruce about my little car crash to keep me in line."

Marinette snorted. "You think that borrowing a phone to delete a text message is worse than borrowing and crashing a car?"

Tim shrugged. "It's a matter of opinion. Truth or dare?"

With a roll of her eyes, Marinette said, "Truth."

"What's one thing you would never tell me?" It was the sort of question that could only be asked during a game of truth or dare. In Tim's opinion, it was this sort of question that made the game worth playing.

Marinette pouted. "I don't like that question."

"Too bad. The rules of truth or dare state that you have to answer it."

"Fine." Marinette looked up at the ceiling, deep in thought. Just as she turned back to face her laptop, her face lit up. It was evident that she had an answer. "Usually I let people learn from their mistakes in the kitchen. However, I will now tell you - because I have to - that your cookies have been in the oven for too long. They're going to start burning if you don't take them out soon."

Tim jumped up to get his cookies out of the oven. They looked a little burnt, brown rather than the golden-brown that Alfred would make, but they still looked edible. "I'll accept your answer, but only because you saved my cookies."

"Now that your cookies are done, do you want to finish up our game of truth or dare?"

"One last question," decided Tim. "And I'll pick truth, to make it easy for you."

"What's the biggest secret that you've currently keeping from your family?"

After Tim's last question, he had expected Marinette to follow it up with an invasive question. Luckily, her question had a very simple answer.

"Easy question - my friendship with you."

Marinette looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Most of my friendships begin through the connections they have to my family. Because of that, I've never really had serious friendships that my family wasn't actively involved in."

"It's not because you're ashamed of me, right?" Marinette sounded unsure of herself. Insecurity was a side of her that Tim had never seen before.

"Of course not," Tim assured her. "You're the best friend I could have ever asked for, Marinette."

"Good, because you're not getting rid of me that easy. I still have a lot to teach you about baking. I think we might try cupcakes at our next sleepover."

Tim laughed. "We'll see about that." He had no doubts that there would be sleepovers to come, and shenanigans involving baked goods to go along with them.

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #MaribatMarch2021 #timari #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Tim Drake #miraculous ladybug fic #my work

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lorelylantana · 3 years ago

Text

A Blindsided Engagement Chapter 2: Engagement

Chapter 1

Chapter Rating: G Overall Rating: G

Ava Vanguard was surprised to see Link return to Hateno a full month ahead of schedule. She was a bit disappointed when she read that her husband and son would assist in clearing the damage of Calamity and it would be some time before she could see her family again, but the relief that they survived was enough to keep her content. News that her family still stood was all she could ask for as a military wife and mother. She was just sitting down to lunch when none other than her son walked through the door.

Link seemed well, better than she’d ever seen him, in fact. He was dressed smartly in boots she recognized as standard issue for the Royal Guard and the Champion’s tunic he was so fond of. Ava was a bit perplexed at the circlet gleaming on his forehead, but shrugged it off. After slaying Calamity, her son no doubt received gifts of all kinds. Link carried a garment bag in his hands, which he hung on the hook by the door before hugging her tight.

“Hi, Ma.”

“Let me look at you,” she said, taking his face in her hands. She was glad to see a quiet joy in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since he drew the sword that hung over his shoulder. It made her happy to see bits of the son return to her after he walled himself off. “Tell me everything.”

Link managed to explain the story of Calamity’s downfall between bites of their split lunch, which is how Ava knew he was nervous. Now that Calamity was soundly defeated, there were very few things that Ava could think of that would cause such reticence.

Did her son find a significant other? Had he come to ask for permission to bring someone home?

“You're earlier than expected,” she prompted, gauging her son’s reaction, “Is there anything you wanted to tell me?”

Link cleared his throat, hand coming up to the back of his head.

“I’m engaged.”

Well, she wasn’t that far off.

Ava gasped, “I had no idea you found someone special! You should have written!”

“It was really sudden,” he admitted, “Honestly, I’m still shocked she said yes.”

Ava laughed, made euphoric by relief. She was aware of and lost countless night’s sleep over the walls her boy had put around himself. Her heart broke to see that forced apathy in his eyes. Yet here he stood, joy written in every line of his face, no sign of restraint in sight.

It was a shame she couldn’t stop to admire it, as not a moment later her son straightened.

“I have to go, the wedding planning’s been keeping me busy. I thought I would invite you to the engagement feast personally, but I have to be getting back,” he nodded toward the garment bag, “I thought you could wear that to the banquet. A tailor in the castle can alter it if it doesn’t fit.”

With a hug and a kiss to his forehead, Link was gone. Vanished out the door, and once again she was alone.

For a moment, a bittersweet moment, she was still. Her little boy had grown up, and she didn’t get to see it. Still, the melancholy thought was drowned out with the elation that came with the knowledge that her son, amid the chaos, found a safe harbor to bare his soul to.

Ava shook her head and moved to the garment bag. She had a nice dress, so she didn’t know why he gave her a new one.

At least, that’s what she thought before she opened the bag.

She had never touched a fabric so fine. Her fingers glided over deep velvet and silk, gazing in awe at the gold detailing along the sleeves. A dress fit for royalty.

Ava smiled to herself. Her son was always such a sweet boy, though perhaps she should scold him. There was no need to spend so much money on her.

It’s not like she could wear such nice clothes very often.

Captain James Vanguard wasn’t really surprised when he received an invitation to a banquet and instructions to wear his dress uniform. He’d been expecting it. His son was the Hero of Hyrule, of course he’d be invited to the victory celebration. He was taken a bit off guard when the footman informed him that said celebration would be held that very evening, but James Vanguard was a soldier through and through. It took him a quick thirty minutes to change out of his armor, scrub the day’s grime from his body, and slip into the red and blue suit that had been issued upon his knighthood and he was ready for the grand occasion.

Despite his quick response time, the party was already in full swing when James entered the Sanctum, lit up by blue flame, giving the ancient hall an ethereal glow that was at once new and old. For a moment he was silent, letting the fact that they were at peace sink in at long last. Perhaps now he could retire without the guilt of letting his country down. Spend his days holding his wife instead of just thinking of her.

The King’s approach snapped him out of his reverie. James bowed, “Your Majesty.”

“Good evening, Captain! Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate the occasion. More than I expected, to be frank.”

The King threw his head back and laughed, “I can imagine. You must be proud of your boy, hm?”

“Of course. He’s exceeded every hope I had for him. That said, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried for him.”

James had lost many nights’ sleep thinking of how his little boy seemed to curl under the weight of his destiny. In his more fanciful thoughts, he’d believe that the burden would be lifted, but his years as a soldier had taught him that it wouldn’t be so simple.

He knew that the physical scars were the easiest to overcome.

King Rhoam hummed, “I can imagine, but I’m sure our children will pull through. We’ll be there to advise them after all.”

And with that, the King was gone, off to speak with the other guests. James shook his head. This was a happy time, and he was told Ava was here. His energy should be spent towards finding his wife.

Ava looked around, completely unprepared for the grand scale of the celebration before her. She was told her husband would be in attendance as well, so she searched for him, feeling like a fish out of water.

“Mrs. Vanguard, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!”

Ava turned to see none other than Princess Zelda herself, walking towards her in a fluttering violet gown the exact same shade of the coat her son now wore. The Champions likely coordinated their attire. Ava hurried to curtsy the best she could, but the Princess merely waved a hand.

“Oh there’s no need for that, please. I’ve been eager to finally speak with you. You must be so proud of Link, I certainly am.

Ava blinked, pleasantly surprised that the Princess held her son in such high regard. Eager as she was to finally discover who her son’s bride was, Ava wasn’t about to refuse a request from the Golden Princess, so she talked for hours about her favorite moments of Link’s childhood.

“You must tell me what Link was like as a child, and spare no details!”

Ava wasn’t about to deny a chance to relay some of her fondest memories, especially at the princess’ request. They talked for what seemed like hours. She wasted no time telling the Princess about Link’s childhood escapades. She was just about to explain how five year old Link rode a bear through the village street in nothing but shorts when Princess Zelda was called away for a speech.

Ava sighed, alone once again. Perhaps she could spot her son in the crowd?

“Ava!”

She turned, a smile growing on her face and her husband’s arms wrapped around her. She kissed him, alight with affection and relief at seeing James and feeling his beating heart against her chest.

The war really was over.

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too.”

As blissful as the moment was, it was cut short by the King addressing the crowd.

“I hope all of you are enjoying the evening. I can’t think of a better way to mark the end of the Calamity’s reign than with an engagement, and so we gather to-”

Confused, James leaned into his wife’s ear.

“Who’s getting married? Anyone we know?”

Ava turned to look at him with that expression she wore whenever he said something stupid, which he thought was unwarranted for once given the situation.

“It’s Link, James.”

“What?”

“What did you think this party was for? It’s to celebrate Link’s engagement!”

“His what?”

“Our son is getting married,” Ava said, “Since he’s one of the Champions, the royal family was kind enough to celebrate with him.”

Vanguard was reeling, “Who’s he getting married to?”

Ava tutted, “He didn’t mention her name, I was going to ask him tonight, but Princess Zelda wanted to talk and I’ve been sidetracked all evening. She really is such a lovely girl.”

Before he could ponder this revelation further, King Rhoam commanded the room’s attention.

“I would like to thank you all for celebrating this wonderful occasion with us. After such dark times, it gives me great joy to hold this feast in anticipation of a union I have no doubt has the support of all Hyrule-”

As the king spoke, the Captain scanned the Sanctum, trying to spot his son’s mystery bride. Could it be Mipha, they had spent some time together as children, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it grew to something more. James thought better of it as soon as he spotted the Zora in question. She was beautiful, dressed in her Champion blue, but there was an air of melancholy about her that was impossible to ignore. Captain Vanguard hoped his future daughter in law wouldn’t look so forlorn at the engagement party.

“-and now, without further ado, I ask that you all join in as we celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my dear daughter, Zelda Lana Hyrule, and her loyal Champion, Link Vanguard!”

Wait a minute.

His son’s name was Link Vanguard.

Captain Vanguard blinked as the room erupted with applause, looking up to the man standing beside the Princess and king.

Well, there he was, standing where the Princess’ fiance was supposed to be with his arm linked with. Before he could process the implications of these observations, a butler came by to guide James and his wife to a private banquet hall. They sat down next to each other and were told to wait. It was strange, to be sitting at a table he’d spent countless hours guarding. James shifted in his seat.

“To clarify,” James began, “Our son’s going to marry Princess Zelda?”

Ava nodded, “I think so,”

Link and Zelda walked smiling through the door, and the room descended into chaos.

#Zelink #zelda #botw zelda #aoc zelink #botw link #botw zelink #fanfic #A Blindsided Engagement #LantanaLore

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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

As per our convo, Newt getting set up with Hermann via Hermann’s father’s binder full of pre-approved suitors for his son...

(from @k-sci-janitor 👀) easily one of our funniest concepts yet. I was going to end on newt coming over for dinner scenario but I like the ominous open ending. I'm not actually sure when kaiju attacks fall in the PR timeline so excuse my handwaveyness, LOL

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Hermann’s relationship with his father is what one would call strenuous at best, but—Hermann must admit, to the man’s credit, and in spite of his many flaws—he took the news of Hermann’s sexual orientation as unflinchingly as if Hermann had told him the day’s weather. It was a bit annoying, in fact. Hermann had agonized over the proper way to breach the subject for months, certain it spoke to some sort of personal ruin (whether ostracization from the Gottliebs or being forbade following through on any attraction he may feel whilst still living under the family roof, he wasn't sure), before finally simply announcing it one day at the breakfast table on a whim.

It had been a long-standing tradition that Hermann’s parents compile a binder—effectively of dossiers—on all the most eligible bachelors (for their daughter) and bachelorettes (for their sons) to aid in the choice of the latest Gottlieb mate. It was easiest this way, or so Hermann and his siblings were told. Parental approval was already secured. The histories of each were already secured, which bypassed any nasty shocks that might emerge in the courtship stage. Most of them were children of his father's colleagues or bright minds in their own rights: surgeons, and dentists, and mathematicians. Poets were strictly forbidden.

The occasion of Hermann’s breakfast table announcement had also been the day Hermann’s father presented him with his very first binder of prospective mates—a few days after his eighteenth birthday, and shortly before he was to go off to begin work on his PhD. His father had slid him a hand-written binder of names, no more than a dozen, and all with accompanying photographs. “All are accomplished young women,” he assured Hermann. “We can arrange any meetings of your choice over your winter holidays.”

Hermann glared down at the row of frozen smiles. He stabbed his fork into his cooked tomato wedge. “I don’t want to marry any of these women,” he said, and turned his glare on his father. He still had a rebellious streak in him at that point, something nurtured by a charismatic young man he used to trail after in boarding school, who pierced Hermann’s ear with a sewing needle in the boys’ toilets and listened to songs about setting things on fire. In late this streak had manifested itself in Hermann in nicking packets of cigarettes from his father’s study, one of which was in his pocket now. The weight of it made Hermann feel bolder. “I don’t want to marry any woman,” he continued. “I like men.”

The binder was drawn away in silence, and Hermann was free to eat his toast and tomatoes. The next morning a binder of young men was in its place.

(In a way the acceptance infuriated Hermann. It meant he could not blame his father’s obvious dislike for him on an unfounded, homophobic prejudice; rather, it was a result of Hermann’s own personal failings.)

The binder was placed at Hermann’s breakfast plate every day until he left for his studies. It was placed at his plate when he returned from them five years later. Not even the emergence of the kaiju from the bottom of the ocean shortly after Hermann turned twenty-four dampened his father’s hopes, nor turning all their scientific efforts towards the new jaeger program: some names were removed from the binder (the reasoning Hermann shudders to think at), more still were added, though Hermann is expected only to consider it once a week now on account of his busy schedule. This was one of such days.

“Your brother is very happy with his wife,” Hermann’s father reminds him. “She was one of my first suggestions for him, in fact.”

Hermann is not fond of his sister-in-law. Too rude—too cold. Though perhaps that makes her perfect for Hermann’s brother. “Haven’t we got bigger things to worry about these days than whether or not I’m going to marry?” Hermann says. He adds milk to his tea. “I’m sure they’re all, er, marvelous selections, only—”

“Your sister, too, with her husband,” father says.

Hermann sighs. He hasn’t got much of the rebellious streak he used to in him anymore—too stressed. Not fancying a fight before they’ve even begun today’s coding work, he picks up the binder and begins flipping through it. Sons of engineers working on the jaeger program with them, prominent young chemists, many of whom Hermann has been presented with since he was eighteen. Plenty of them are even handsome. Half of Hermann wonders if he should just pick the least-unappealing one of the bunch and be done with it already. He turns the page over and freezes. “Oh,” he says. “This one is—new.”

“Hm?” father says.

Hermann holds up the binder, tapping at a new entry. “Newton Geiszler.”

“Dr. Geiszler,” father says, nodding. “A child prodigy from Berlin—he’s made tremendous strides in kaiju science in such little time. And,” he adds, “three PhDs. Two of them before he even turned twenty.” The unspoken implication was that Dr. Geiszler far surpassed Hermann in intelligence and Hermann should feel ashamed for not skipping as many grades as Dr. Geiszler.

Hermann feels he ought to resent Dr. Geiszler for it, but he's finding it difficult to summon up any animosity towards him. It's likely because Hermann finds Dr. Geiszler to be strikingly handsome in his photograph: cheeks which haven’t quite lost their baby fat (giving him the appearance of being a scruffy hamster), large, thick glasses, tousled hair, an easy grin. Three PhDs, and German at that. And a child prodigy? “I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned him to me before,” Hermann says. He seems precisely the sort father would. Geiszler’s photograph is black-and-white and a bit grainy, but Hermann swears he could make out the lightest bit of freckles across his cheeks.

“I’d not heard of him until he published an article last week on kaiju biology,” father says. “Besides—he’s moved to America.”

Geiszler has three piercings up the side of his left ear. “I am going to write to him,” Hermann declares.

Father nods, and picks up his newspaper, clearly already disinterested. They speak no more of it that day.

It is not hard to find Dr. Geiszler online (his name is not the most common, and his field of study certainly isn’t), nor is it hard to match his photograph to his faculty page on MIT’s website. From there, Hermann retrieves Dr. Geiszler’s email address. He takes the evening to read over Geiszler’s publications spanning back to 2003 before he gathers up the courage to type out an actual email.

Dear Dr. Geiszler,

You do not know me, but I have recently been made acquaintance with your work and find it—Hermann pauses—scintillating. My father and I are—Hermann backspaces this—I am currently working on the development of the jaeger program…

There’s a response waiting for him the next morning. It’s as enthusiastic as it is brief. Dr. Gottlieb- That’s so awesome!! Believe it or not I’ve been following your work too. I have a million questions for you about the jaegers. If it’s classified info I promise I won’t tell. -Newt

It makes Hermann smile like nothing ever has before.

Hermann’s correspondence with Dr. Geiszler does not transgress beyond the professional until the following January. By that time, Hermann and his father have successfully completed the coding for their first jaeger prototype, and Hermann has been offered his fair share of tenured university positions to pick from as he likes. He finds himself oddly disappointed that none of them are in America with Dr. Geiezler. This, which leads to the realization that he’s grown rather fond of Dr. Geiszler, is perhaps what drives Hermann to uncharacteristic sentimental extremes on January 19th: he orders Dr. Geiszler a birthday present. The first email Dr. Geiszler sends him after that addresses him as Hermann. The first email Hermann sends Dr. Geiszler after that addresses him as Newton. Things move rapidly after that.

“Are you still writing to that young biologist?” Hermann’s father asks him in March. Hermann has spent the last two months devouring every bit of information Newton has seen fit to divulge about his personal life: his dexterity with no less than three different instruments, his favorite loud monster movies, how he’d love to get a kaiju tattooed on him one day. Hermann suspects he might be falling in love with Newton. In hardly five months! These are war times, Hermann supposes, so it would make sense. People are meant to do such extreme things.

“I am,” Hermann says.

“I’ve asked around about him,” Hermann’s father says. His expression is stern—unimpressed. “About his character. I’m not sure it’s wise to continue your correspondence.”

The reasons are this. Dr. Geiszler’s methods are unorthodox. Dr. Geiszler is loud and uncouth, and has little respect for his intellectual superiors. Dr. Geiszler was thrown out of a convention once for storming up on stage and stealing a microphone from an engineer to shout about the destruction coral reefs. Dr. Geiszler was in a distasteful band for several years. Dr. Geiszler was once arrested for egging a politician’s house. Dr. Geiszler has gone on record as describing the kaiju as “kinda cool”. Almost none of this is news to Hermann; in fact, that which is only causes Hermann’s affection for Newton to grow. “I will consider your advice,” Hermann says, knowing he won’t. Besides, it's not as if his father really has Hermann's interests at heart—Hermann knows he merely wishes to preempt any scandal Newton Geiszler could possibly bring upon the Gottlieb name.

In April Newton goes on television and declares that he’s sure the kaiju are extraterrestrial in origin, on account of their great size and his brief examination of a sample from the second kaiju to make landfall. He’s laughed off by his older peers before he can get another word out. The email he writes to Hermann afterwards is furious, capslock-heavy, and expresses that Hermann is the only one who takes him seriously in the whole world. It leaves Hermann certain that he is in love with Newton.

“Dr. Geiszler was interviewed on some American television program,” Hermann’s father says a few days later.

“I know,” Hermann says, proudly. Newton was on television. “I watched it.”

“He made some extraordinary claims,” Hermann’s father says.

But Hermann is thinking only of the outfit Newton wore (skinny jeans and an oversized leather jacket, so out of place compared to the suited other scientists sitting around him), the shade of his eyes (hazel), his short stature (hardly taller than Hermann), and the cadence of his voice (high, but not unappealing). He’d been so confident, and carried himself with a self-assurance that was foreign to Hermann. It was marvelously attractive. “I’m sure they're correct,” Hermann says. "Every single one. Newton is a terribly brilliant scientist." All bold claims are met with derision at first, are they not?

Newton’s theory is proven correct after the next kaiju attack, when experts other than him get their hands on kaiju samples and validate his claims. The general consensus after that is that the kaiju are not of this world. And Newton was the first to propose the theory! Hermann sends Newton an email full of congratulations, and Newton responds with a heart emoticon in his sign-off. Newton isn't just a brilliant scientist. “Newton is a genius,” Hermann tells his father, dreamily.

The binder reappears on Hermann’s work desk a few months later, Newton’s page torn conspicuously from it. Hermann tips the whole thing straight into his trash can. He has more important things to worry about—arranging a meeting with Newton, perhaps. Hermann ought to have him over for dinner.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous #the new post editor is weird but I like that I can make things pink

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soulmate-game · 4 years ago

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Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 5: Overprotection

Disclaimer: Dick was adopted when he was 12 in this fic. Just for math’s sake.

—*—*—*—*—*

“What.”

Damian stared at his father, face carefully blank. Bruce grimaced, shifting.

“I said, you have a half sister. Biological.”

Four sets of eyes bored into him, from all of his sons. They were gathered not in the Batcave for once, but just one of the sitting rooms in the Manor.

“... and what, Father, does that have to do with the French class visiting Gotham?” Damian asked again, posture steadily growing stiffer and more and more stone like. He was trying hard to suppress emotions, but not even he was quite sure what those emotions were yet. Anger? Fear? Resentment? Probably. He might have detected some excitement there too, deep, deep down. Bruce took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for this.

“Well. I’ve kept up with her life, but last time I checked she had no idea that she was adopted. When her birth mother died, it was right around the time I adopted Dick. She was still an infant, and I knew I was not equipped to handle taking care of a baby—“

“Father,” Damian interrupted again. “You sent her off. Have her up for adoption,” he said slowly, as if realizing that that would have been his fate had his father known about his existence earlier, as well. It was almost ironic, considering how Bruce seemed to have a problem with adopting other children nowadays. Bruce nodded.

“She was adopted by a couple in France. Paris, to be exact. I’ve kept up to date, asking them to just send me a letter or email once or twice a year about the general stuff she’s been up to. Nothing too invasive. A few pictures. And last time I asked them, they said that she had no idea about being adopted or that I was her father,” Bruce sighed again, running a hand over his face. “But I think she does.”

“Why?” Jason asked, confused as everyone else to the change in subject. Except Tim and Damian, who seemed to be quickly connecting the dots.

“Oh boy,” Tim breathed. Bruce just nodded.

“Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She is the one who organized the trip for her class to come here, to Gotham. She is the one who entered and won our international internship competition, and turned that into an excuse to get her entire class to come here for two weeks. To get to know the place she will be living for her internship next year, after she graduates Lycee, France’s version of highschool essentially.”

Tim winced. He had been in charge of the internship competition, and Bruce had given him free reign. He had chosen the winner without even thinking to run it by his adoptive father.

“Bruce—“ Tim tried, but the man just held up a hand.

“I don’t blame you. I haven’t been paying too much attention to her life, and I didn’t expect her to do something like this. But we know now that, if she does know and this isn’t a giant coincidence,”

“Unlikely,” Dick agreed, wincing. “Possible, but unlikely.”

Bruce huffed in agreement. “Then, we know she is very resourceful, determined, and has skills that impressed Tim enough to choose her out of tens of thousands of contest participants worldwide.”

“The minimum requirement for a Wayne,” Damian finally managed to bite out, still coping with this proverbial slap in the face but doing his best to handle it. He was seventeen damn it, and had come a long way from who he used to be. He could handle this. He could. He would.

Bruce rolled his eyes, and then leaned forward with his hands braced on the table. “Okay. So now we need to make plans.”

“Plans?” Jason asked, frowning. “For how you’re gonna tell her without getting your faces plastered over every tabloid in the city right?”

“No,” the older man shook his head. “Plans to keep her alive, unharmed, and unaffiliated with us until she leaves. I will not be making any public appearances unless absolutely necessary, so trips to the Tower are out of the question—“

“Are you…” Jason’s eyes were wide. “Trying to keep her out of our Shitshow? Because yeah, kudos to you even if it took you way too long to learn, but if she went through all this trouble to come here then it's probably too late.”

Dick nodded. “If she’s anything like you and Damian, there’s no way she’ll back off easy. Avoiding her will only make it worse on you, and probably the rest of us too.”

Damian stared straight into his father's eyes, glare sharp and searching. “What is this about, Father? You have not worried this much about any of us—“

“Because none of you were as naive!” He barked, quickly catching himself and taking a breath. “You all had a way you could benefit from this life. A way I could help you. But Marinette has both of the parents she has known her whole life, they treat her wonderfully. They care. She’s never had to worry about constantly moving, or fighting, or going hungry. The only deaths she has ever experienced have been from afar and due to natural causes. She designs as a hobby and has no problem with socializing or handling emotions in a healthy way— introducing her to our life holds no benefit for her. The only thing it can give her is unnecessary danger and risk and secrets.”

“Yeah, well. I guess Batman doesn’t know everything, does he?” A new voice startled them all from the doorway, making everyone's head whip over to see who had managed the near-impossible and snuck up on all of them.

Standing there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, was a short part-Asian woman in her late teens. Her midnight black hair was cascading down her back in one thick braid, tied off at the end with an indigo ribbon. Her eyes were a piercing cobalt blue, matching those of Bruce perfectly. Her jaw was clenched, and the infamous Bat-glare coming from her was directed right at the person who made the expression infamous in the first place.

“Marinette,” Bruce breathed, shoulders squaring. “Your plane isn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.”

“It won’t,” she agreed. “I took a portal here. You see, my extensive research into Batman’s known habits and tactics, which I started after I figured out about your alter ego last year, informed me that you tend to go to the extremes to protect people you deem incapable of protecting themselves, and are also prone to idiotic self-sacrificing behavior in the form of purposely making yourself look like an ass.”

Jason chuckled. “She’s got you down to a T, B,” he quipped with a grin despite the caution still in his eyes. “But let’s back up a bit, little Spitfire. What’s this about a portal?”

Marinette pushed off the doorframe, walking closer to the scattered group. Tim and Jason were spread across one sofa, Damian on the other with Dick, and Bruce was occupying an armchair. Marinette just walked until she stood where she could easily be seen by everyone, but also had nobody at her back.

“The portal is part of a bigger story. Like, the fact that father dearest wanted to protect me so badly that he placed the JLE in Paris, but didn’t realize that relations with that branch were so bad that the JLE never informed him or the JLA about getting kicked out of France and reassigning themselves to Italy. Bruce never kept a close enough eye on the city, because he wanted to keep emotional distance, and therefore was completely blind to when a supervillain showed up and terrorized Paris for almost five years,” she continued, her glare never leaving Bruce’s face.

“I found out about being adopted when I was eight. I found out who my biological father was when I was thirteen. Last year, I finally put in the work to connect Bruce Wayne to Batman. And yeah, I never told Maman and Papan, because they have never completely understood me. They wouldn’t have understood that I was fine with having no contact with you, back then. That my snooping had nothing to do with being unhappy with them as my parents. They would have immediately assumed they were inadequate when I am merely curious by nature. But then I ended up being chosen to be one of the child heroes that fought said domestic terrorist that showed up five years ago. And I sure as hell couldn't tell them that a magical artifact showed up on my desk one day and that the god inhabiting it told me to fight the monsters the villain made and just, just go with it. I couldn’t tell them when I went from being one of two Parisian heroes to being the leader of a team. I couldn’t tell them when my elderly mentor, unable to fight by our side but who had at least provided emotional support and knowledge, passed away and gave me his title and responsibilities. I’m sick and tired of being protected, Monsieur Wayne,” Marinette didn’t seem to notice the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m sick of it. I know you were trying to keep me safe, but I fought a war I wasn’t prepared for. I died, thousands of times. But my own powers and the powers I have my partners brought me back to life. Over and over. I don’t need protection, damn it. I don’t need you to distance yourself, because you're the only fucking person I can call a parent who might understand,” she held out a hand, her scowl turning into a gentle smile. “I have so much I need to talk about. Before I drown under all these secrets. Please. I’ll go back through another portal before my parents notice I’m gone, but I’ll be back in town tomorrow when my plane lands. Just. Please, don’t push me away. That’s all I ask. I want to get to know you, all of you. I… I need family who understands.”

“Thousands.” Bruce repeated, all of them still recovering from Marinette’s very sudden, info-dumping speech. “You died… thousands of times?”

Marinette laughed, but it was a sad sound. No mirth there. “I gave my friend a magical artifact that reverses time, and the artifact that gives me my own powers can reverse any damage from a fight I use it in. Even death. Sending untrained teenagers to fight a villain three times their age makes some kind of failsafe like that kind of necessary.”

“Fuck,” Jason cursed under his breath. “Well. You’re welcome to join the living Zombie club,” he offered. The girl snorted, giving him a watery grin in thanks.

“I’m sure you know about my stance on powers and metas,” Bruce decided to say, wincing immediately after. That wasn’t what he meant to say. At all. He earned another brief glare for it.

“I’m not a meta, and I only have powers when I use the artifact to transform, thereby borrowing powers from the miniature god that the artifact houses. Think of it like doctor fate, but my gods are actually not parasites and my powers are much more… specialized. I had to learn combat on my own, and I was able to train in my sleep with the past users of this artifact. That includes people like Fa Mulan, Joan of Arc, and someone you actually know— Hippolyta. I’ve mastered more fighting styles by now than I care to remember, and I’ve done gymnastics since I was three. I don’t know if my parents told you that in their letters. I even won the gold in the nationwide France gymnastics competition two years ago. I assure you, I don’t rely on my powers nearly as much as you might think.”

Bruce swallowed. “I can… greet you when your class arrives.”

Marinette grinned. “Well, that’s a start.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Idk what happened, I don’t know if I like this at all but oh well. I’m posting it anyway. Maybe one of you will like it. I… couldn’t really find any other way to do this so oh well. Also, I think Mulan was a past Dragon..? But I put her as a Ladybug because I Can.

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl @iamablinkmarvelarmy @meme991001

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #platonic daminette #platonic brucinette #day 5 #not my fave at all

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atlasdoe · 2 years ago

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Only Survivors - Chapter One

Emmeline centered fic set after the war

1981 - 1983

I should've known

I'd leave alone

Just goes to show

That the blood you bleed

Is just the blood you owe

/ /

Emmeline Vance had spent the past five years wondering what the first year without the war would look like. She imagined fireworks and parties. She imagined summer evenings getting drunk with her friends and family gatherings every holiday. She looked forwards to all of the weddings that she would attend, and the children she would meet now that everyone's fear of attacks was gone. Sometimes her mind went so far into the perfect war-free world that tears would form in her eyes at the mere thought of having all her loved ones safe and happy. She was so close to happily ever after, all she had to do was hold on for a little while longer and it would come to her.

At least that’s what she thought before Marlene died. Then Caradoc went missing. Then her father and brothers were killed, right before Fabian and Gideon. After them it was Edgar. Then Dorcas. Then Benjy. And finally, James and Lily.

Never, did Emmeline think that she would be celebrating the end of the war alone.

But she did. She went to the Leaky Cauldron when she heard the news. Already upon her arrival was the pub packed. She ordered a drink and kept to the bar mostly. Every now and then someone would see her alone and start up a conversation. They'd ask what her plans for life were, how please she was now, and if she wanted to join them for drinks. Her replies were always the same. Just finished my Mediwitch training. I’m delighted. No thank you but have a great night.

She waited to see if anyone else from the Order would turn up, but none of them did. Tom started kicking people out by 3 in the morning and by 3:15 she had found another pub in central London that still had its doors open. She stayed there until 5.

She took the train back home to Birmingham, rather than use wizarding transport. She liked long journeys and appreciated the time to think. She wondered if it was selfish to have celebrated with everyone else that night. Kingsley would’ve been at the Ministry going through the reports of Voldermorts demise and possibly Sirius’ trial if he was even getting one. She thought of Frank and Alice and how they must’ve spent their night together with baby Neville, thanking their lucky stars that it wasn’t them. And Remus, Gods Remus, she couldn't even imagine how he must've been feeling at that moment. She considered going to visit him but decided against it when she remembered that last she had heard Remus was all but missing. For all, she knew he could've been dead. Another loved one that Sirius Black had murdered.

Oh well, she thought numbly. Another one to add to the list I guess.

The next two months were a blur. She didn’t talk to anyone, nobody reached out except for Kingsley. He had sent her a letter a week after the war ended.

My dearest Emmeline,

I’ve been debating about reaching out to you since I heard the news of the end of the war, I’m sorry it took so long but as you can imagine things have been heretic here at the Ministry. Either way, I hope this letter finds you well.

I’ve been thinking that it might do us all a bit of good to remain in touch with as many people as we can. Isolation is a deadly killer and I do not wish for you or anyone else to fall victim to it. I was thinking of planning a night out maybe. Nothing big just a few drinks between you, Gilderoy, Hestia, and I. Get the only gang back together you could say. Raise a glass for the others.

Please write back if you’re interested. If not, take care.

I wish you the very best, you deserve it,

Kingsley.

She didn’t reply. But she wanted to, she wish she could. But she didn’t. She just held the letter close to her heart and let the silent tears fall down her face.

Still, she hoped that Hestia and Gilderoy had got back to Kingsley. Her heart tugged at the thought of Kingsley all alone after being brave enough to take the first step. But to have a Ravenclaw reunion without half of them just felt wrong.

Emmeline bumped into Pandora in mid-December. She was in Diagon Alley for the first time since the war ended.

It was exactly like it was before. There were no shops closed because the roof had been blown off, nobody lurking near Knockturn Alley in hopes of hearing something that they shouldn’t, everything was as if there had never been a war at all. She didn’t like that.

Oh, how she wish she could. Emmeline would've done absolutely anything to act as if nothing had ever been wrong. She wished so dearly that she was here with her little brothers, looking for a gift for their father. If they had, they’d stop by Fortescue's where, if she was working, Alice would give them discounted ice cream with her usual beaming smile. Despite the cold, they’d eat it outside and people watch as they decided on a plan of action to which shops they’d visit in which order. As the day went on they’d run into their friends. If Marlene was there then she’d tag along. Marlene would’ve probably had her own younger siblings with her, they’d all accuse Marlene and Emmeline of planning this but they hadn’t. Though they’d act as they had. Jude and Thomas would at some point wander off on their own once they grew tired of all the teasing every time their hands intertwined. Then Marlene and Emmeline would also separate from the group, lying about how they would look for them (as they were in charge, of course, being the eldest and all.)

If The Marauders had chosen this particular day to do their own shopping (and knowing their luck they would’ve) then they’d surely make their way over to the girls purely to annoy them. Remus would offer them chocolate and Peter would ask them how their holidays had been going so far as they all watch James and Sirius complete a series of dares set by the others.

They might’ve even seen Edgar, who would’ve definitely been there with Amelia, Fabian, and Gideon, and maybe Benjy and Caradoc. Edgar would smile and hug Marlene before greeting Emmelie like he always did. Wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek three times as he slightly lifted her off the ground. She would laugh and he would put her down before bringing their lips together, neither of them caring enough to react to the gagging noises that Marlene, Amelia, Fabian, and Gideon would make.

In every interaction Emmeline would have, her heart would fill just a little bit more. And when she would get home, she’d kiss her father goodnight and fall asleep with a smile on her face; her mind replaying all the moments when she and her friends would thrive in the familiarity of their own. A comfort that Emmeline now feared she would never have again.

If she closed her eyes and really focused, maybe she’d be able to pretend.

Maybe, if she was alone, she would’ve. But there were far too many people around for Emmeline to be having mental breakdowns in the middle of the street.

Pandora had found her just as she was leaving Gringotts. She was not only with Xenophilius but also a baby girl who Pandora had introduced as their daughter, Luna Rose Lovegood, named after Pandora’s younger sister; another victim of the war.

They hadn't had much time to chat, but in the time they did have, they reminded Emmeline of the traditional Ravenclaw Christmas Eve Eve drinks that were held every year. Emmeline was about to decline when a memory of her and Marlene entered her head.

The Christmas Eve Eve drinks were a tradition for former members of Ravenclaw. A way for old classmates to catch up with each other before the holidays. Marlene and Emmeline had both always wanted to go but only managed to attend one until they were temporarily canceled until the war ended.

“Please come,” Pandora pleaded when she saw Emmeline hesitate to answer. “Everyone has been asking about you Em, you’ve got people worried y’know?”

“I just don’t think I’ll be all that fun to be around right now,” she said, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “I’m a lightweight and when I drink I vent. Trust me nobody wants that.”

Pandora gave her a sad smile and pulled her in for a tight hug, the first hug that Emmeline had had since the end of the war. It took all her willpower to not completely melt in Pandora's grasp and burst into tears. How Pandora still had the power to make her want to spill her guts without saying a single word was beyond her.

“You’re always welcome. Not only to the drinks but where ever I am. We still live in the same house as before, just pop in at any time,” she pulled away, still holding her by the shoulders, and locked their eyes. She had that motherly look on her face as she said firmly, “I care about you very much Emmeline. I’m always here - Always.”

Emmeline’s lips shook as she nodded. Pandora hugged her again and wished her well.

She did, in the end, go to the drinks. Pandora had welcomed her with open arms the moment she saw her enter the small pub.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” she beamed holding her close. “I already got you a drink. C’mon, we’re sat over in that corner,” she pointed to a table in the back where Kingsley, Xenophilius, and Hestia were already sat. They waved when they saw her, she tried her best to smile back.

Hestia Jones was always someone Emmeline was unsure about. She was her and Marlene's roommate in school, but she spent much more time outside of the dorm than inside. Mostly because she and Marlene didn't get along.

Emmeline couldn't remember when their rivalry began but over their years at Hogwarts Marlene and Hestia had probably said more horrid things to each other than they did nice.

Emmeline had always been the middle man. It was clear to everyone involved that she was Marlene's friend first and foremost but she never took anything out on Hestia. She never had anything against her, in fact, Emmeline was usually the one pleading Hestia's case most of the time. If it wasn't for Emmeline then Marlene would've never put Hestia on the Quidditch team in ‘76. But Hestia didn't know that, and they had never really been friends.

Despite this, Hestia's smile was still wide as Emmeline approached them. She acted as if there was never any conflict between the two of them ever, and Emmeline guessed she was right, it didn't make it any less weird though.

The first hour or so was spent talking about anything other than the war. Multiple people came to their table to catch up and take pictures but none of the five ever went looking for anyone themselves. However, Emmeline quickly learned that with her and Kingsley as members of the Order of the Pheonix most people found themselves putting them on some sort of podium for actively fighting in the war. After that, it was easy to figure out who exactly needed to be at the bar to get drinks brought for them.

In total Emmeline had fifteen drinks brought for her that night (Kinglsye twenty.) She was on her fourth when the war was finally brought up.

“Did you ever find out what happened to Caradoc?” Was the question that brought the conversation of war up, asked by Pandora who Emmeline was sure wouldn’t be asking so casually if she was sober.

(When Emmeline thought about it when she got home that night she remembered how close Pandora had been with Caradoc and figured it was a question she had been dying to ask all night.)

“No, we never found out,’ Kingsley answered. “He’s presumed dead, but there was no body to bury.”

“There was also no family to bury it,” Emmeline added in a mumble. “Parents were killed weren't they?”

Kingsley nodded while Pandora sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It would’ve been nice for Benjy to have the closure though.”

Emmeline shook her head, “Would’ve done him no good. He didn’t die long after that.”

“A month,” Kingsley supplied. “A week after Dorcas.”

“Still,” Pandora continued. “Maybe things would’ve been different if he knew.”

They were silent for a second and Emmeline thought that the subject would be changed. But after quickly drinking all of what was her fifth drink she realized that this would probably be the only opportunity she got to properly discuss everything that had happened, and get any answers that she needed. So she asked the question that had been on her mind for months.

“Is Remus dead?” she asked bluntly.

Hestia, Pandora, and Xenophilius all turned to look at Kinglsey who shook his head but kept his eyes on his glass. “No, he isn’t dead.”

“I thought Black had killed him,” Xenophilius commented.

Kingsley finally looked up and finished his drink. “You and everyone else in the fucking wizarding world - Nah, Black didn’t kill him… Not physically anyway.”

“Have you seen him?”

He nodded, “Briefly… We had him come into the ministry for questioning. Y’know with Black and all it could’ve been possible that he knew something that we didn’t.”

Emmeline nodded along as he spoke, her chin now resting in her hand as she held onto his every word. “People in the Order thought he was a spy,” she said, remembering the arguments that had gone on during some of the Order's last days. Nobody trusted anyone, and with Remus constantly going in and out it seemed like the only person to trust him was Dorcas. Even the Marauders were keeping their distance.

Kingsey nodded again, “Apparently we worried for nothing,” he told them, anger filling up his voice slightly. “Dumbledore knew what he was doing the entire time. He just never told anyone.”

Hestia’s face scrunched up when he said that. “Why wouldn’t he tell anyone?” she questioned. “If Dumbledore had been honest about Remus then maybe someone would’ve been able to spot the differences in Black.”

Kingsley only shrugged before getting up. “I need another drink,” he announced. “What’s everyone getting?”

They all gave him their orders and he left to the already crowded bar.

Once he had left Emmeline wasted no time with her next question. “Do you reckon Mary knows? Do you know if she’s come back yet?”

Mary MacDonald, a Gryffindor in the year below Emmeline, was a dear friend to most of the Order. She was a muggleborn and after she was attacked in her fourth year at Hogwarts became very active in muggle's rights. In 1979 she was set to join the Order with the rest of them but sadly didn't make it past her first mission.

Emmeline was on the mission with her. The two of them, along with Lily, Alice, Marlene, and Dorcas, were sent to Lestrange manor to save a family of muggles who was being held captive there. This family of muggles in particular were relatives of the current Minister of Magic and freeing them was anything but a walk in the park.

They had failed the mission and the family had been killed right in front of them. If it wasn’t for Dorcas’ quick thinking the witches would’ve never made it out alive themselves. They had gotten too cocky and because of it, four innocent lives were lost. They all took it to heart, but none like Mary.

Emmeline had never seen anyone truly break down before that night. She hadn’t known what to do when Mary fell to the floor of the Orders headquarters screaming and sobbing as she clung to Marlene like she was some sort of life jacket.

It was possibly one of the most heartbreaking sights she had ever witnessed, and the stuttered gasps that left Mary's mouth were more warning of how hard this war was going to be than Dumbeldore had ever given them.

Marlene and Lily took her into the other room for privacy and when they came out they told the others that Mary had decided to not officially join the Order. The news left everyone on edge. Mary was the best of them, she was confident and proud and fearless. Mary was braver than any one of them, she was Gryffindor's lioness, to see her cower away was something that nobody was ever expecting and her departure caused more members to question how far they were really willing to go for the war.

Emmeline wasn’t surprised when Marlene told her that she was one of those people. Marlene was a lot of things, protective, clever, and the strongest person Emmeline knew. But a fighter she was not. If Marlene was seeking justice she was making signs, having important conversations, and preaching rights. She wasn’t dueling strangers and she definitely wasn’t putting everything she held dear on the line because an old guy told her that it was the only way. Marlene wanted to find another way, and she could’ve - if Mary had never sent out those goddamn letters.

She had sent out five. One to James, one to Lily, one to Dirk, one to Remus, and one to Marlene. Emmeline didn’t get to read any of them in full but from what she gathered they all said around the same thing.

I’m leaving the wizarding world. I refuse to put my family in danger. I love you. I will be back once Voldermort is gone.

Upon hearing the news Emmeline had been fearful that Marlene would follow, but instead, she had done the opposite and decided that the sooner the war was over the sooner Mary would come back.

Marlene had pledged her allegiance to the Order the next day.

And now it had been almost two months since the end of the war, and Mary still hadn't come back.

“She must’ve heard,” Hestia said. “It wasn’t like anyone was trying to hide it. There were reports on the muggle news about shooting stars and owls, only an idiot wouldn’t have figured it out.”

“But maybe Mary didn’t see the news,” Xenophilius added. “Did she say where she went?”

All three girls shook their heads. Xenophilius nodded and took another swig of his drink.

“I don’t think she would’ve stayed in England,” Pandora said. “Or anywhere in the UK for that fact. There's no point in running away when the death eaters were attacking up and down the country.”

“Could she have gone to Ireland?”

“No,” Emmeline responded quickly. “No, Ireland wouldn’t be safe. Marlene was from Ireland and she was killed in her childhood home.”

“Who did kill Marlene?” Hestia asked suddenly.

Emmeline looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. “I don’t know,” she told her in a small voice. “I was never told. I didn’t want to know in all honesty… Didn’t want to do something stupid.”

Hestia let out a small chuckle, “Well that didn’t stop Dorcas did it? From what I heard at least.”

Emmeline’s eyes hardened as Pandora's hand reached out to hold her knee. She was asking her to bite her tongue, to let it go, and maybe if Marlene and Dorcas were alive she would’ve. But neither of them had given their lives to the war for a prat like Hestia Jones to make jokes about it.

“Bold of you to laugh about a war you didn’t fight in,” she said as calmly as she could muster. Emmeline had never liked conflict, she could feel her heart beating out of her chest already. Still, she went on. “Remind me again why you chose to just sit by and watch the world go up in flames.”

Hestia didn’t look phased; like she had been expecting it. “Because I’m not an idiot who will do anything Dumbledore will say,” she said simply.

Emmeline opened her mouth to respond, but Hestia wasn’t done there.

“I understand that some people are so scared of being irrelevant that they will join a war just to make their lives interesting, but unlike you, Vance, I don't need a thumbs up from the Ministry to make me feel good about myself. Because later on tonight while you’re still here finishing off all those drinks you got brought for you I will be home with my very much alive family and friends thanking all the gods above that we didn’t let our egos get us killed.”

Neither girl hesitated when they saw the other move. They both stood up, pushing the table slightly towards each other. Emmeline didn't know if she wanted to hex or hit Hestia, but unfortunately, she didn't get a chance to do either as the moment they stood, Kingsley came back with the drinks.

“You two better not be leaving,” he joked. “These drinks just coast that gentlemen at the bar 15 galleons.”

“No,” Hestia said confidently before sitting back down. “I’m not leaving.”

“Neither am I,” Emmeline added, also sitting down but much more slowly.

“...Okay then,” Kingsley drew out clearly sensing the tension. He put the drinks on the table and also sat down, keeping his usual smile stitched onto his face. “What are we talking about?”

Pandora didn't miss a beat, “Barty Crouch,” she said, quickly adding, “Jr. Have you heard anything on him?”

Emmeline took note of how Pandora’s voice lifted slightly, her eyes were wide as Kingsley shook his head. “No. Why? Should we?”

“Yeah, wasn’t he friends with a bunch of death eaters?” Hestia butted in.

Hex her. Emmeline wanted to hex her. With a really good one too.

Pandora shook her head vigorously as Xenophilius took her hand from beneath the table. “I was friends with him during school, wasn’t I? Was just checking that he was okay, he’s been… quiet.”

“Probably to do with his father,” Kingsley replied and a cheerful tone. “He’s starting up at the Ministry for the new year.”

“But he was friends with a bunch of death eaters,” Hestia repeated. “Shouldn’t you look into that?”

Kingsley shrugged, “I don’t see why. He was a Slytherin he was bound to make friends with death eaters. That doesn’t mean that he’s one, just look at Dorcas and Benjy.”

“Yeah, but Dorcas and Benjy had friends outside of their house, from what I know Barty didn’t.”

“Barty did,” Pandora snapped, her face going bright red. “Barty had me.”

Hestia rolled her eyes but backed off.

They had changed the subject after that, never even mentioning the war again until Hestia, Pandora and Xenophilius had left. Kingsley and Emmeline had attempted to leave at least twice each but every time they went to standup yet another person would come up to them offering to buy them a drink.

It was one in the morning when they finally managed to get out, and despite them heading separate ways, Kingsley insisted on walking her home.

They walked in silence for the most part, until Emmeline spoke up.

“Do you regret it?” She asked as they entered her street. “Joining the Order.”

Kingsley shook his head without hesitation, “I helped take down one of the darkest wizards the world has ever seen. I prevented so many deaths that it would be selfish of me to want to take any of it back.”

Emmeline took his answer to heart.

Maybe that was why she didn't tell Dumbledore to fuck off when he called her into his office on New Year's eve.

CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#Harry Potter #the marauders #the marauders era #emmeline vance #pandora lovegood #Remus Lupin #wolfstar #Edgar Bones #Mary MacDonald #emmary #barty crouch jr #jily #alice longbottom #Frank Longbottom #James Potter #Lily Evans #regulus black

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illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

Text

Out of Context

Request: First of all, congratulations on 1,000!!!! Could you do a a sequel to Interloper where maybe an interviewer is giving her shit for having once been a groupie and Bri Rog and Deaky defend her and have amazing sex after at like their hotel 😂-foursome anon (I’m back)

Interloper / Snapshots From Before (Prequel)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Brian May x John Deacon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), gangbang/foursome, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, tit fucking, light choking, slightly dom reader, cheer up sex, some spanking, double and triple penetration

Words: 6,145

A/N: This was another request from back at my 1000 follower celebration last year. It’s been sitting half written in my drafts since then and I finally felt inspired to finish it lmao. Foursome anon I hope you’re still around and you see this!!

Blurb Advent: Day 10

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies

Doing press wasn’t easy, especially when interviewers insisted on questioning you all separately. You preferred having at least one of the boys to back you up. They’d been dealing with the whole interview process for so long now they knew how to avoid answering things they didn’t want to, knew how to deal with rude reporters. But it was all new to you. Perhaps that was why this particular interview had gone so badly. There was no Freddie to make the right snide comment, no Roger to get pissed off on your behalf, no Brian or John to squeeze your knee comfortingly or take over when you go tongue tied.

Things between you and the rest of the band had been going much better since Freddie had locked you in that room together. It didn’t happen overnight, there were still lingering tensions. But any badmouthing they did of you was out of your hearing which you much preferred. Gradually, as the tour wore on, there were less tensions. They got used to having you around, began including you in their games of scrabble and their not-quite-awake conversations over hotel breakfasts. Until one day, in the final leg of the tour, when Freddie admitted to you quietly that he hadn’t overheard any whispered comments for nearly a week. “And here I was thinking we’d never get there.” “Oh hush, darling, I told you from the beginning they wouldn’t hate you forever. Sure they took a little longer to come around than I had anticipated but it all worked out in the end. And now when you tell them the execs have asked for another full album featuring you, they probably won’t kill you.” They hadn’t, of course, though you’d worried for the safety of everyone involved in making the decision. Roger looked as if he were a second away from punching the first person to talk to him.

They took less time to calm down though, especially after they saw how nervous you got before the first interview. Your agent had decided some preliminary press would help build excitement for the album before the songs were even written. Calls were made, journalists were found, and before you knew it you were facing a crowd of people vying to ask you their questions, cameras flashing the whole time. It was a lot. More than pushing you into the deep end, you’d be thrown to the bloody sharks. Any lingering ill will the boys had for you vanished after that. They’d all thankfully been there too, had drawn the attention to themselves rather than let you struggle to answer everything on your own. After that they’d kept an eye on you during the smaller interviews. Mostly the reporters were happy to talk to you all together and, as long as you said one or two things about how excited you were to be working with Queen again, and how much fun touring with them was, you could get away with letting them take lead. But every now and then you got stuck with some jackass who wanted to quiz you solo. And this interview, this horrid interview, had been one of them.

Roger pushed the magazine away from himself, letting it slide as far down your kitchen table as it would go. “She’s a fucking bitch that reporter.” You looked down at the magazine, still open to your interview, the headline alone making your stomach turn. “No, sorry, that’s an insult to dogs. She’s a fucking cunt.” “Rog,” “No, that’s an insult to vaginas. There is no word strong enough for that poor excuse for a journalist.” “Roger, sit down.” Roger shot Freddie a dirty look but sat down anyway, his knee bouncing with restless energy, “Sorry. I’m just pissed off.” “Yes, we gathered that, thanks Rog,” “She took everything I said out of context, you have to believe me.” “We do, Y/N, we do,” John said softly from beside you, rubbing circles on your back. “It started well, I swear. Just the usual questions y’know, what’s it like working with Queen? How does it feel to be singing next to Freddie Mercury? Were you nervous about touring with them? Can you give us any hints about the new album? All the things that usually come up that Freddie coached me on how to answer, and I was doing fine. I had my prepared answers and there was no stumbling over words or anything like that. I thought I’d finally got the hang of it all and then she asked me to elaborate on what it was like working with you. I’d already told her the usual thing – it was fun and y’know blew my mind and all that. But then she asked how it compare to being your groupie.” “You didn’t answer her did you?” “Christ no, Brian! Jesus what do you take me for?” Brian held his hands up in apology. “I told her that it wasn’t relevant, but she kept asking, one question after another thrown at me and no matter what I said she didn’t stop. All sorts of stuff, like which of you was the best shag, and if I’d only wanted to be your groupie because I hoped it would lead to my own album, and if I was still offering my services,” you made air quotes around the words, “accused me of using you for my own gain and asked if you were the first band I’d tried it with or if you were just the only ones gullible enough to let me. I tried to tell her no and that I wasn’t going to answer those questions but she just kept going and then she told me to get used to the attention and left. I guess she didn’t need my answers to write a whole article about it.” “Which of us is the best shag?” Brian repeated the question though you suspected he wasn’t just checking he’d heard you correctly. The others all fell quiet, waiting to see if you’d answer. “Really Bri? That’s what you got from that?” “Right, right, sorry, not the important part. Look, it’s not as bad as you think it is.” “Bri’s right, love,” Roger said, much calmer than he had been before, “there’s nothing of substance in here. Like this quote, as for the fun Ms Y/L/N mentioned was had on tour, one can’t help but wonder just what she meant. Could the stories about nights spent playing boardgames be covers for debauched, drug-fuelled, orgies the likes of which would make a pornstar blush, I mean, there’s nothing there. It’s all conjecture and anyone worth a damn will see right through it.” “But some people will believe it,” “Maybe, yes,” Freddie said, “but it’ll blow over. We’ve all been in the same place you are at one time or another. If anything this officially makes you one of the band.” “Yeah, Y/N, it’s all just spiteful rubbish.” “Thanks guys, but I think I might just call it a day, go back to bed. Stay if you want, I don’t mind. But if you leave lock the door behind you.” You stood and headed to your bedroom.

The four boys stayed quiet until you were out of your room but you heard their hushed voices and hissed comments through your bedroom door as you pulled off your jeans and unclasped your bra from under the baggy jumper you wore. It took about five minutes before there was a soft knock on your bedroom door. “Y/N, can I come in?” You contemplated feigning sleep. “I know you’re not asleep.” You sighed and sat up, hugging your knees to your chest, “Fine, Roger, come in.” “Freddie’s gone to make some calls,” he said, standing just inside your doorway, hands in his pockets. “Calls about what? It’s out there now, there’s no getting it back.” “No but we need to make it clear to other journalists that those kinds of questions won’t be answered in any future interviews, and hopefully we can make sure that parasite never gets to come anywhere near us again.” “Isn’t that mean to parasites?” Roger chuckled, “getting over it already, see,” he sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on your covered knee, “I know this sucks, and I get that you’re ashamed, but I promise it’s not as bad as it feels right now.” “I’m not ashamed.” “What?” “You said I’m ashamed of it but I’m not.” “Oh. I thought-” “I’m a bit embarrassed because obviously I’ve never told my family what it is I got up to when I went to all those concerts and now they’re all going to know, lord knows some of them will believe the worst of it. And I’m pissed off that I didn’t stand up for myself more. I just let her keep cutting me off and talking over me when I should have told her to fuck off or at least called her out for being a prudish arsehole who probably only attacked me because she’s jealous I’ve fucked three quarters of Queen. And I’m annoyed that you’ve all been brought up in the article, and she’s questioning whether your good people just because you sept with me. I mean does she expect you all to be virginal saints or something? It’s just frustrating and yes, upsetting. But I’m definitely not ashamed.” “Huh, okay then.” “What?” “Nothing, just, we assumed you regretted sleeping with us.” “Lord no. It wasn’t planned, like she was insinuating, but seeping with you definitely helped me get my foot in the door with this whole music thing. And even if it hadn’t done that, it was still fun as hell and made me feel good. If I wasn’t fucking you I would have been out having mediocre sex with guys I met in pubs and I don’t care how much of a slut it makes me seem, but I’d rather fuck a whole band every single night and actually get off than have a disappointing drunk lay with a guy who’s never heard of the clitoris. Fuck, I’d still be doing the whole groupie thing now, and be perfectly happy with it, if Freddie hadn’t heard me singing that day. That night at the after party, that was heaps of fun.” “Give me a second would you,” Roger stood and walked to the door, giving you another glance before he turned the corner. You watched the doorway, not quite sure what to make of his behaviour but your questions were answered soon enough when he reappeared with Brian and John following. “So apparently we misread the situation,” Brian said, taking the seat Roger had just vacated. John sat cross legged at the end of your bed while Roger flopped onto the mattress beside you. “I can’t believe you’d think I regretted being your groupie. Have you met me?” “In our defence you seemed very upset, what were we meant to think?” “I had a shitty interview and got called a whore in a very public way, of course I’m upset. Doesn’t mean I regret anything.” “Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry, we should have realised. But we have a proposition for you. We actually thought of a way to cheer you up when we first saw the magazine this morning but then when we got here you seemed so sad and we didn’t want to make you more upset or uncomfortable,” “What Brian is trying to say is that we have an idea we think you might like.” “Jesus will you two stop beating around the bush?” “Shut up Rog, I’m getting there.” “Y/N,” Roger said cutting off the others before they could waffle any longer, “Would you like to fuck us again?” You almost choked. “Zero tact. What he means is, we thought we could cheer you up. All three of us, entirely focused on making you forget that magazine.” “Wait, I’m confused,” you massaged the bridge of your nose as you tried to catch up to them, “you saw an article that called me a whore and thought it would cheer me up to, what, be your shared fucktoy again? Yeah it was fun but-” “No, no, no, that’s not what we mean,” John said, “you’d be in control of how it all happens. It wouldn’t be like last time.” “So, you’d be my whores?” “I guess?” “The point is,” Roger chimed in, “we want to make you feel better. If that means making you cups of tea and buying you a box of chocolates that’s fine. But it could also mean you having three cocks and all the orgasms you can handle.” You looked from Roger to John to Brian and then back again, trying to work out if they were joking or not. But they all seemed sincere enough for you to actually think about their proposition. It wasn’t what you were expecting to hear from them, and it hadn’t crossed your mind until they mentioned it. But now that they had, you had to admit it sounded fun. Last time had been fun and that was when you’d been passed around and used mercilessly, so having them all again, but with a bit more say in how it happened, could only be better. Plus, part of you wanted to prove how unashamed of your groupie history you were and what better way than this? “Okay, I’m in.”

“Do we need to set any ground rules?” Brian asked. “You all know my safeword,” “Saxophone,” You laughed at the chorus of eager voices, “Yes, exactly. Other than that I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Not like this is new exactly, is it?” “Well, no, I s’pose not.” “Exactly. And if there’s anything I don’t want I’ll tell you. So you’re,” you pointed at Roger, “going to kiss me now, while you two undress,” “Getting right to it, excellent,” Roger laughed, as he pushed himself closer to you. He didn’t waste any time, leaning in to kiss you right away. It started off a little too soft for your liking but as soon as soon as you made it clear how into it you were, kissing him back harder and pressing yourself closer, Roger reciprocated. His hands wandered down to your chest as you felt Brian and John get up, following your orders, their clothes left where they landed on the floor. Roger’s hands were soon replaced by Brian’s as he knelt behind you, and you found your head being pulled around so he could kiss you too. Roger took the opportunity to undress as Brian and John caught you between them. You couldn’t tell who was removing your clothes, only that once your jumper had been pulled over your head John was kissing you. He leaned back, tugging you along so Brian could pull your underwear off, his hands caressing your bare bum. “How do you want us?” John asked, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “Um,” you looked around at the three very naked bandmates waiting for your word, “One of you is going to eat me out. Don’t care who but I am going to cum.” “Yes Ma’am,” John laughed, lazily saluting you before rolling you onto your back and shuffling down between your thighs. You were taken by surprise when you felt his tongue run between your lips, expecting nips on your thighs and the teasing puff of his breath as he hovered just out of your reach. But he was clearly taking the job of cheering you up seriously. Brian and Roger weren’t any different, settling into the spaces on either side of you, their light touches only enhancing the feeling John had set off. You felt their fingertips on your breasts and in the ends of your hair, tugging just enough to send a shiver down your spine but not enough to make you gasp in pain. “So what would you like from us, love? What dirty little fantasies are going through your head right now?” Roger tapped his finger on the middle of your forehead. You opened your mouth but a small oh as John latched onto your clit replaced the words you’d been intending to say. “Think we’re going to need a little more than that, Y/N. C’mon, tell us what you want. Do you want us to just take turns fucking you, filling you up over and over and over.” “Or are you thinking more along the lines of last time? Taking two at a time because one cock isn’t quite enough for you now?” “Try three,” you managed to get out as you slid a hand into John’s hair to hold him in place, “want you all at once.” “Jesus,” Brian swore, dropping his lips to your neck. “I’ve been a piss-poor groupie considering the stories that reporter’s peddling. Everyone’s going to think I’ve been taking all three of you at once constantly, but we’ve never actually done that, have we? Might as well embrace my slut title and change that,” “Let us work up to it, Love” Roger said softly, recapturing your lips as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. You whined, partly from Roger and Brian’s attention and partly because John raised his head, your hips rising slightly at the loss. “Guess I should start stretching you out then,” he said offhandedly as he licked his fingers, the same way you’d seen him do a hundred times before while playing. You couldn’t stop the moan that rose up in your throat, the sound only making John chuckle against you as he lowered his head and resumed his focus on your clit.

It only took a few more minutes to have you swearing through your first orgasm. The two fingers John had inside you enough to send you over the edge as they brushed against every sensitive spot they could reach. Your neck tingled where Brian had marked it and your nipples were stiff peaks, extra sensitive to cool air after he and Roger had delighted in torturing them with teeth and tongue and fingertips. “How was that?” John asked, slowly withdrawing his fingers when he was satisfied you’d finished. “Fuck,” was all you could say, the three boys laughing, John dropping a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Think you can handle more?” “Actually Bri I think I might be done,” “Oh. Really?” “I’m kidding.” “Thank Christ. I’m so fucking hard there’s no way I could get my pants back on anyway.” You laughed and pushed yourself to sit up, “Poor thing. I suppose you can use my cunt for a bit.” “Classic guitarists always getting first go,” “Shut it drum boy, I was about to offer to blow you but if you’re going to be like that,” “No, no, I didn’t say anything.” “He did Y/N, I heard him, blow me instead,” “Ignore Deaks, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” “Like a couple of – oh!” you were cut off as Brian grabbed you round the middle and wrenched you onto your hands and knees, “children. A little warning next time please,” “Sorry,” Brian leaned forward to kiss your back as his fingers trailed up the inside of your thigh, “but if I didn’t move this along we’d be stuck arguing about who gets to blow who forever.” “N-no we wouldn’t,” you stumbled over your words as Brian’s long, talented fingers pressed into you, “I made up my mind, Rog in my throat.” “What about me?” “Don’t worry Deaks, you’ll get your turn. If you want you can spank me though, or bite me or pull my hair or whatever else you can think of. You know my limits. Also we’ll need lube so if you want to go digging through my bathroom draws and find some you can. Might be a reward in it if you do.” “Spankher, please,” Brian nearly whined, “always makes her cunt so tight.” “Think I’d rather claim that reward thanks” “Alright then I’ll spank her,” “Guys! Can you stop arguing. I have holes enough for all of you, that’s kind of the point of this. And, Brian and Roger, if I don’t get both of your cocks deep, deep inside me within the next thirty seconds I will kick you both out and let John have his way with me on repeat.” A moment of silence accompanied your statement. You saw Roger, eyes wide, look over at John and then to Brian, and could only assume they were returning his dumbfounded look. “Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven,” Roger blinked as if waking from a daydream and hurried to kneel in front of you, one hand gliding over the length of his cock as the other reached for your hair. Your mouth fell open in a gasp as Brian suddenly filled you, holding your hips tight as he bottomed out, which gave Roger enough opportunity to push himself towards the back of your throat. There was a shift in the mattress as John got up but you were a little too preoccupied to hear the door open and shut or the sound of him rummaging through your bathroom. You only realised he’d returned when a sudden, loud spank hit you and you knew Brian’s hands were still occupied with your hips. For their parts, Roger and Brian were keeping you busy, skewered between them, not sure whether the noises coming from your own throat were moans or gags or wordless begging. Brian breathlessly laughed as John spanked you again, “So fucking tight. Bit harder?” “Y/N?” You made an assenting humming noise and nodded as much as Roger’s cock would allow which John rightly took as permission and so hit you again, harder than the last.

It was an intoxicating feeling, taking two cocks at once, all the while wanting more and knowing you’d have it before long. Brian fucked you hard and precise, as if his goal was to split you open from the inside out. Had it just been him and you alone you would have found yourself creeping further up the bed. It had happened a few times before, leaving you either hanging off the edge of the bed, or with your hands over your head and pressed against a wall in an effort to keep from banging your head. But all he managed to do was push you further onto Roger’s cock, making you gag and choke more often. Roger didn’t seem to mind that though, giving as good as Brian, firmly gripping your hair so that you couldn’t even attempt to move off him. The added impact from John’s hand just made you shiver and moan. He was the one who sensed you were getting close though, reaching under you to rub your clit and give you the extra push you needed to get over the edge. Brian wasn’t too far behind you, groaning as he tried to keep fucking you, his hips faltering as he twitched inside you and spilled his seed. You felt his hands on your backside as he spread your cheeks, leaning down to spit on your arsehole before he pulled out of you. Once Brian was finished with you, you tapped Roger’s thigh and he pulled back. “You okay?” he asked, stroking your cheek with a knuckle. “Brilliant, just thought that since I can move a bit easier, I’d take over. You look like you were close.” “Fucking yes I was close,” You giggled as you readjusted your position to be more comfortable, once again taking Roger’s cock between your lips. This time you pushed yourself lower, taking him deeper, making Roger swear above you. You pulled back again, hollowing your cheeks until you sank down once more. A strangled moan seemed to catch in Roger’s throat and it spurred you on. You reached out to cups his balls, massaging them in your hand as you took him as deep as you could and hummed. The hum turned into something akin to a squeal (though slightly muffled and choked off at the end) as the sticky cool of John’s lube covered finger teased your arsehole, tracing circles around it before slowly sinking into you. The sight seemed to be enough to finish Roger off, one hand on the back of your head to steady himself as he shot his load down your throat, pulling out towards the end so the last of it dribbled down your chin. “Now me?” John asked, pushing a second finger in with the first as Roger let you go. “Stretch me out a little more and then yes,” “Oh, no, I’m not ready for that yet. I want your tits.” “What?” “Your tits, Y/N. Turn around,” His fingers left you and you were free to move, shuffling on your knees to face him. John pressed down on your shoulder pushing you to sit back on your knees and adjusting your angle so he could slide his lubed up shaft between your breasts. He pushed them together with his palms and slid them up and down his dick as he rutted against you, spreading the sticky lube over your chest. With a slight smile at John, you dipped your head a little and kissed the tip of his cock as it moved towards your lips. “Fuck, been waiting so long for this,” he groaned, “gon-na make a mmm-ess all over you.” He gave up on speech as he neared his released, communicating exclusively in grunts and increased speed until he finished, covering your chest and sternum in ropes of cum that dripped down your skin.

You laughed as John fell back. The hardest you could remember laughing in a while. “What’s so funny?” Brian asked, reaching out to rub your shoulder. “Just thought what that reporter would say if she could see me now, naked and dripping in spunk,” you managed to get out between giggles, “her face would be fucking priceless.” The boys laughed along with you, glad you could see the funny side of the situation with the article. “Does that mean you’re feeling better?” “Yes Rog, but I’m still not done with you.” “What did you have in mind?” “Well,” you crawled over to where Roger was sitting, leant back on his hands, and placed your hand on his throat, tilting his face away from you a little so you could lick a long stripe from his jaw to his temple, “I meant it when I said I wanted all of you.” “Never doubted it, love,” he sounded a little breathless. “Just let me know when you’re all ready to go again. Not you Rog, I can see you’re ready.” “I’m good too Y/N,” “Yeah, same,” “In that case,” you shifted your position, lining yourself up with Roger and sinking down on him, squeezing his throat a little harder as you adjusted. “John, you still got that lube?” “Yes, uh, yeah here,” there was the sound of a cap flipping open and you leaned forward encouraging Roger to lay back so you could give John better access. “Hey, Rog, can you spread your legs a little wider,” “S’pose so, just don’t kneel on my bollocks or anything,” “God give me a second, the thought of that just made mine try and jump up inside me,” You giggled as John shuffled closer, using his fingers to spread some more of the lube over you and to keep stretching you out. “What about me, Y/N?” “I haven’t forgotten you Bri. I want every inch of your cock shoved so far down my throat I can feel you for a week. Just let me get used to the others first, yeah? Still feels kinda odd having two of you at once since we’ve not done it much.” Brian nodded, contenting himself with running his fingers through your hair as he waited. John, having pulled his fingers from you and slicked up his dick with more lube, sank into you slowly, his hand on your back to keep you bent forward. It suddenly felt hard for you to pull in a new breath as you tried to adjust to the feeling of both of them, especially when John gave an experimental thrust, fucking you slowly to make sure it felt okay for everyone. Brian talked softly, reminding you to breathe and telling you how well you were doing, until you were better in control of your lungs and ready for more. “Are you sure you want me as well?” “Yes. Lets show that parasite just how far I’ll go, huh?” Roger laughed, “that’s the spirit.”

Brian didn’t need more convincing than that, though it did take a little trial and error to find the best way to accommodate all three of them. Brian tried perching his arse on the headboard but Roger whinged about “seeing nothing but Bri’s ballsack flopping about. And I know you see things when you’re gangbanging but that is too much.” In the end Brian stood next to the bed by Roger’s head, enough to the side that Roger’s view wasn’t impeded but still close enough so that the angle wouldn’t strain your neck. He gathered your hair into a messy ponytail as he pulled your mouth onto his cock, letting you work yourself further down his shaft as slowly as you needed, checking in with you every now and again to make sure you could take more. The other two were mostly still as you adjusted to Brian, though once or twice they’d given a small thrust or shifted slightly and made you whine. Once you had Brian buried as deep in your throat as he could go you paused for a few seconds and then pulled back again, strings of saliva breaking on your lips. “How was that?” “Good,” you gasped, “New. Kinda weird but very fucking good.” That didn’t really explain anything but you weren’t sure how to describe the nearly overwhelming fullness, the sudden heat, the tension in your belly which you couldn’t pinpoint as either anticipation or nerves or just because you were stretched open on three cocks. “And that’s without us doing anything,” “I know,” you grinned, “I’m excited. Why didn’t we try this sooner? But now you guys can cut loose. I’m not sure I’ll be much use in like riding you properly or whatever. Just don’t know my brain can focus on keeping both of you in my holes while I’m thinking about blowing Bri well. So, just fuck me however you can and we’ll see how it goes.” “Don’t worry, we’ll make you feel good,” John said, rubbing your back softly. “Yeah, course we will, love. And if ends up being shit then we can just take turns instead,” You nodded and took a deep breath before leaning forward to take Brian again. You controlled the pace once more, bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking on his tip, as the other two figured out their rhythm. It was a strange sensation to start. It felt clumsy and more than a little awkward, especially when John mentioned how he could feel Roger inside you. But that eased as they adjusted and worked out how best to fuck you. John held your hips as he plunged into you, each thrust harder than the last as his confidence rose and he found out what you liked most. Roger’s hands moved over your skin rather than staying in once place, palming your breasts and teasing your nipples between his fingertips before sliding down your side to grasp your waist and then back up to your breasts. You were rocked on his cock with each of John’s pounding thrusts, which only made you moan around Brian’s. You let instinct take over there, one hand stroking from his base up to meet your lips as you swallowed him deeper. His hips jolted when you whined or moaned and before long you dropped your hand away from his shaft, instead grabbing his arse to keep yourself steady. He pulled you off him again and you could feel the spit on your chin. “Forgot what a fucking incredible cocksucker you are.” Brian groaned, “But can I take over? Fuck your throat?” “Yeah, okay,” You had time for another breath and then you were pushed down again, right to the base. “There we go,” he groaned, pulling on your hair, “Gonna make you feel so fucking good.” Your hum was choked off and ended in a gag as Brian ground his hips into your face. That seemed to be the tipping point though. The moment all three of them forgot about awkward views or who was positioned where and became entirely consumed with fucking you deep and hard. You were glad to let them lead, grabbing you, pinching and pulling and squeezing every inch of you they could reach. And all the while spearing you on their dicks, keeping you in a cycle of mounting pleasure as they found all your most responsive spots inside and out. You felt your orgasm building again, the heat rising, getting more urgent as you got closer and closer. The sounds you made were muffled by Brian but that didn’t stop you making them, moaning with every pounding thrust. As you neared the edge Brian pulled you off his cock so they could all hear you properly, their encouragement mixing in your lust addled brain and creating a wall of noise that pushed you over the edge with a loud cry. And yet they didn’t stop. Brian waited until your orgasm was reduced to aftershocks that made you wince and whine and then cut off your air as he entered your throat again, resuming the long, deep strokes that made you gag until he came, holding you down as he emptied himself completely.

As soon as the other two didn’t have to worry about giving Brian access to your mouth they adjusted your position, John pushing on your back until you were bent over. Roger attached his lips to your throat as they simultaneously fucked into you, the change of angle pushing Roger’s cock against you in a way that had you seeing spots. You cried out again as Brian lay a slap on your arse. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” John grunted as he came too, unable to hold out any longer though he didn’t withdraw from you either. His hips slowed a bit and he whined softly but he kept fucking you. “Rog,” you panted, trying to get him to finish too. “You’ve got another one in you, c’mon love,” You whined but nodded, the familiar sensation already tightening in the pit of your stomach. Again the three of them encouraged you, John wrapping his hand around your waist to find your clit, Brian reaching under you to squeeze your breast as his other hand came down on your arse again. They gave you no option but to cum, shivering between them. Finally Roger let go too, moaning into your ear as he filled you up.

It took a moment to disentangle everyone, John being careful not to go too fast and hurt you, but finally you were able to collapse together, sweaty and panting, spread out over the room. “So, cheered up now?” Brian asked from where he’d lain down on the carpet You peered over the edge of the bed at him, “Think so. Thanks for that, it was fun.” “Any time, love,” Roger chuckled from the end of the bed, patting your knee, “and I mean that.” “I’m not you groupie anymore,” “Never said you were,” “Then what?” “What Rog means,” John cut in from where he’d spread out on you window seat, “is that if you ever need cheering up or to let out some frustrations, we’re here. We’re happy to help,” “Does your help always involve a gangbang?” “Not always,” Brian laughed. “Well, a lot of the time,” Roger added with a wink. “I’ll keep it in mind,” you chuckled, “I’ll have to face my family at some point and there’s a high chance I’ll leave upset and frustrated so, we’ll see. Wonder how Freddie’s getting on with those calls.” “I’ll go give him a ring and find out,” Roger said, half groaning as he stood and stretched. He didn’t bother grabbing any of his discarded clothes before he left. “I’ll take Rog his pants,” John sighed as he got up and replaced his own underwear, exiting the room with an eyeroll, Roger’s underwear pinched between his thumb and pointer. “And I’ll...stay here?” Brian said, “unless you need anything?” “Nah, I’m going to jump in the shower. Let the other two know that’s where I am, would you?” “If you’re doing that, can I have the bed?” “Sure Bri,” you laughed, “as long as you promise to change the sheets when you wake up.”

#my writing #my fics #queen fanfic #queen smut #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #brian may x reader #brian may smut #john deacon x reader #john deacon smut

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thegirlonpeetamellark · 4 years ago

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Christmas Break - Part 1

Surprise!! After a looong time away Court returns to Everlark fic world with a little holiday treat for everyone - enjoy! :)

Hi everyone. So 2020 has sucked. For me, the beginning of quarantine was actually a bit of a gift. Being home gave me the gift of time, something I haven’t had much of as my daughters (who were very little when I started writing in this fandom) have gotten older. While I never stopped writing, it was a struggle to find long enough chunks of time to get into a flow. I started writing again with earnest. Not all of it was my fanfiction; some of it was my original work. El keeps me posted on the humbling and kind asks she gets about my writing. I felt bad that despite my increased writing, I still wasn’t ready to update any WIPs. But I did remember a story I had started for the final holiday PiP that I was never able to get past the first page (due to lack of time that year) and to my surprise, it started flowing. I had every intention of finishing it and having El post it as a gift to this fandom. But once my school went “back” in October and hybrid learning started, that was it. My time was gone. And further, my family experienced the very sudden and non-Covid-related death of my aunt. So while I have nearly half of this story written, it’s not done. But it will be, very soon, since it is a one-shot. As with all my stories, it took on a life of its own and it needs more love. So what I have for the readers who have loyally followed me is the first part, the part that involves Christmas. It’s my hope to have a second part posted in a week or two, so that by the time that part posts, a final part is nearly done.

Thank you for your asks and your patience, and thank you to El, one of my favorite people in this world and the best thing my time in this fandom has given me. Thank you for your encouragement. Our friendship means the world to me.

Here’s to a better 2021. Love to you all. Court

Christmas Break

Fuck, not again, Peeta grouses as the opening notes of that insidious Mariah Carey song pipe through the loudspeaker. That’s the third time in the last two hours. He’s all for holiday spirit, but if he never hears this fucking song again it will be too soon.

Leaning his forehead against the cold pane of glass, he peers out of the fourth-story window into the darkened sky. When he had arrived at work a few hours ago, the snow had just been starting to fall; a slow, lazy tumble of flakes. Now it’s coming down in a tumultuous swirl. It figures Panem would finally see a white Christmas his first Christmas Eve on rotation in the emergency room. No doubt the weather is partially to blame for the crush of bodies crowding the waiting room tonight.

Peeta walks away from the window and opens the cabinet where he stashes his Clif bars. The economy-sized box looks suspiciously closer to empty than it did the other day. He’s heard complaints from other doctors and nurses that snacks are pilfered on a regular basis and was warned to label his own boxes. But he had forgone the warnings. If someone needed an energy bar badly enough to steal one, what was the $20 he had spent on them at Costco. He snags one and unwraps it.

He’s just raised it to his mouth when his Apple watch pings and his silenced cell phone pulses insistently against his thigh. Heaving a loud sigh, he sets down the energy bar and withdraws the phone from his pocket.

“Mom, you’ve got exactly 60 seconds,” he grits out. He doesn’t even need to look at the screen to confirm it’s her. She’s called twice already tonight, calls he’s ignored with good reason, but somehow his mother thinks a phone call from her trumps any actual emergencies her doctor son could be dealing with. Which, tonight, have been nonstop since his shift began at six.

“Please tell me you ate something,” she begins.

“I was just about to, when you called,” he replies. “I’ve only got a couple of minutes. It’s been utter chaos for the last four hours.”

“We missed you at dinner. I can’t remember the last Christmas Eve when I didn’t have all three of my boys together.” Peeta closes his eyes. All these years my mother has been gushing about having a doctor in the family, and yet she never stopped to consider the ramifications of actually having a doctor in the family, he thinks. Particularly its impact on holiday gatherings. She obviously hadn’t learned anything from this past Thanksgiving, as now, just a month later, she’s already dumping a fresh guilt trip on him for missing another family dinner.

She continues, “And Jackson and Maxwell were just devastated when they heard you weren’t coming, until I assured them they’d see you tomorrow. We will see you tomorrow, yes?”

Peeta suppresses another exasperated sigh and breaks off a chunk of the Clif bar. “Yes, Mom, I’ll be there.” And though it’s childish, he crams the bar into his mouth and mumbles around it, “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” His chewing masks the sarcasm that weighs down the words.

“Excellent. We need an updated family portrait before Everly and Rye have to leave for her parents’ house.” Placated, his mother moves to ends the call, but not before getting in a less-than-subtle comment about how much she adores his brother Rye’s fiancée and how happy she is Rye is settling down.

Staring at the disconnected call flashing on the screen, Peeta tries not to let the remark get to him. Mostly because he knows it’s a lie. His mother has complained more than once about Everly and how she’s not good enough for Rye. Peeta knows the dig was directed at him. He hasn’t truly had a serious girlfriend since junior year of college; just a few casual relationships that barely qualified as relationships. He doesn’t know how his mother expects him to meet someone with the hours he keeps. And his father, for as close as they are, never seems willing to jump to Peeta’s defense.

Taking a deep breath to let his irritation suffuse, he jams his phone back in his pocket and scarfs down the rest of his pathetic dinner. All three bites of it. Then he uses the restroom, dutifully washes his hand, and stalks out of the staff lounge, his short break over.

As he strides up the corridor, he hears loud shouting coming from the ER waiting room.

“…should be asleep in her bed, waiting for Santa Claus to come, but instead, we’re still here waiting for someone to take a look at her arm! It’s been over two hours! Don’t you people have any compassion? Or is Ebenezer Freaking Scrooge running this place tonight?”

Curious, Peeta veers towards the reception desk, where his eyes land on the ranting woman. She’s young, probably no older than her mid-twenties, and in spite of the fact that her dark hair is spilling out of a messy braid and she’s not wearing any makeup, Peeta is immediately struck by her beauty. The rosy flush to her cheeks from her tirade actually makes her even prettier. She’s cradling a toddler and protectively shielding the little girl’s right arm. The toddler’s blonde head rests on her mother’s shoulder, her thumb wedged into her tiny pink mouth. Her left arm clutches a stuffed orange cat. She looks tired. Actually, both mother and daughter do.

“Miss, I understand your frustration, I really do,” the receptionist says calmly, her eyes cutting to Peeta as he stops by her side. He reads the name on the file on top of the stack, the next patient scheduled to be seen: MCMURPHY, JOSEPH. Clearly not the little girl in front of him.

“I don’t think you do!” the young mother cries, her eyes flashing steel. “She’s three, she’s in pain, and she’s scared. And what’s more, I’ve seen at least five people go ahead of us who came in after us!”

“That’s not how the emergency room works, miss,” the receptionist replies. She drums her fingertips on the desk, offering the young mother a tight smile.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” the young mother adds, an edge of desperation creeping into her tone. Discreetly, Peeta moves around the receptionist’s chair, scanning the desktop until he spies the stack of files for the patients awaiting admission. While the receptionist continues to give the young mother the run-around, he thumbs through the stack, searching. His eyes land on what he’s looking for: a date of birth. His lips tip up. Bingo. This has to be it: HAWTHORNE, IVY ANN.

At the exact second his hand snatches Ivy’s file from the pile and slips the other one in amongst the stack, the young mother’s eyes lock on his. Her gaze narrows. He can see the exhaustion all over her beautiful face. Her full lips twitch, her countenance suspicious as they stare at one another.

“Ivy Hawthorne?” Peeta taps the file he had extricated. An immediate flicker of relief lights the young mother’s mercury eyes, and that lush mouth breaks into a grateful, relieved smile. The receptionist’s neck snaps up. “I’ve got this,” he adds, his tone leaving no room for her to argue with him. It’s not protocol for Peeta to take a patient directly, but it’s also not blatantly against the rules. Sure, it might mean a little more work for him, but if it means he can get this little girl home sooner on Christmas Eve, it’s worth it.

He smiles at the little girl. “Ivy, I’m Doctor Mellark. I’m going to help make you feel better, okay?” She nods once but doesn’t lift her head from her mother’s shoulder. Peeta’s arm sweeps to the side, ushering the young mother and Ivy past the desk. He scans the hallway and spies a partially drawn curtain halfway up the corridor. He leads them to the available partition and close the curtain behind them. As he turns to face them, he nearly slams into the woman. She hasn’t moved, and her luminous grey eyes fasten to his. She looks as if she’s going to say something, but several seconds pass and she’s still quiet, still watching him. The silence starts to become uncomfortable. Peeta clears his throat.

“If you’d have a seat, please, Mrs. Hawthorne. You can hold her while I get some more information from you.”

The young woman’s lips part slightly, again appearing as if she wants to say something, but instead she shuffles forward and Peeta waits while she settles on the edge of the hospital bed, gingerly adjusting Ivy so she’s sitting sideways across her mother’s lap.

Peeta sinks down onto the stool and scoots towards the edge of the bed. This close he has a much better look at Ivy’s mother. She really is a beautiful young woman, and given how adorable Ivy is Peeta assumes her husband is probably also very attractive. He feels a twinge of jealousy. Lucky bastard. Pretty wife, cute kid…probably has a nice little house and a golden retriever too. Living the dream. His dream, if he allows himself to admit it to anyone but his mother. If he was being perfectly honest, he had always envisioned himself married by now.

“How old are you, Ivy?” he ask, even though he knows from her chart and her mother’s declaration that she’s three years old. She hesitates, and still clutching the stuffed cat, manages to display three fingers. Peeta smiles at her again.

“I have a nephew who is the exact same age as you are. He told me just last week that he’s a big boy now. Are you a big girl, Ivy?” He keeps his tone gentle, hoping it will put her at ease with him. She nods, her big blue eyes lightening imperceptibly. “I thought so. Can you be a big girl and tell me what happened to your arm?”

Her mother answers automatically, “She fell. I was only gone—” Peeta holds up his palm. He has the triage nurse’s initial assessment, so he knows Ivy’s arm is likely broken. What he doesn’t know is how the arm got broken. And those details he needs to try to get from Ivy herself. Kids her age always tell the truth when it comes to how they were injured, and unfortunately it’s part of Peeta’s job to make sure there isn’t a more sinister reason she’s in the E.R. tonight, no matter how sweet and innocent her mother appears. He’s already had a few encounters with suspected child abuse, though his gut tells him that isn’t the case with Ivy Hawthorne.

“Please. I would like Ivy to tell me how it happened.”

Something dangerous flints in Ivy’s mother’s now stormy grey eyes.

“She. Fell.” The words are curt, enunciated coolly, but her voice is soft and Peeta can tell she’s keeping her temper in check for the benefit of her daughter. Eyes still pinned to his, she inhales deeply. A second later, her shoulders relax. “Go ahead and tell the nice doctor how you hurt your arm,” she whispers, stroking Ivy’s curls.

“I was trying to see Santa,” Ivy replies, her tongue tripping in a lisp on the “S’s.”

“What do you mean by that?” he prompts her.

Ivy scrunches up her button nose. “I was trying to see up the chimney. ‘Cause the chimney at Aunt Katniss’s house is so skinny and Santa Claus is real fat and I don’t know how he’s gonna fit down it to bring me my presents!” Her blue eyes brim with tears and her lower lip starts to tremble. Peeta reaches over and pats her knee.

“I wouldn’t worry about that, sweetheart. Santa Claus is magic. He’ll get you your presents, no matter what the chimney looks like.” He exchanges a look with her mother.

“It was all my fault,” she says quietly. “I went in the kitchen, to get the cookies and milk—”

“And the carrots! For Rudolph and the other reindeer!” Ivy chimes in, her eyes shiny wet.

“I never should have left her alone, not even for a second. This is my fault. It’s my fault. She wouldn’t have slipped and fallen off the hearth if I had been watching her.” Guilt chokes her words, and it sounds as if she’s close to tears.

“Accidents happen, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Peeta says empathetically, “that’s why there are emergency rooms.” She presses her lips together, her brows knitting.

“It’s Everdeen,” she says quietly. Peeta drops his eyes to Ivy’s chart, and furrows his brows, his gaze wandering to the young woman’s left hand. No ring. A brief thrill curls through him at the thought that she’s single. Asshole, he immediately chides himself. So not what you should be thinking about right now. He scans the chart more carefully and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, “but this lists Primrose Hawthorne as the mother, under the Parent/Guardian information, and a Rory Hawthorne as the father. I just assumed—”

She cuts him off. “Primrose Hawthorne was her mother. But I’m not Primrose Hawthorne. I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. I’m her aunt. I should be listed as her primary emergency contact.” She swallows and squeezes her eyes shut briefly. When she opens them, they plead with his. Peeta glances down at Ivy, and then raises his eyes to Katniss again. The guilt that was clouding those silver irises a moment ago has dissipated, replaced with anguish. He doesn’t know what the full story is here, but he didn’t miss Katniss’s usage of the past tense in referring to Ivy’s mother. So he honors her silent appeal not to ask questions.

“Okay, Ivy, you fell, and you landed on your arm? I bet that hurt,” Peeta says to the little girl, but his gaze stays fastens on Katniss. She gives him the faintest smile and mouths, “Thank you.”

~*~*~*~

An hour later, the orthopedist informs Peeta that Ivy Hawthorne is ready for his approval to be discharged. Not wanting to keep her and her aunt waiting any later than necessary, he sets down the X-ray he had been studying, and heads back to where Ivy is.

Standing outside the curtain, he hears quiet singing. He draws back the curtain and sees Katniss seated on the bed, with Ivy nestled in her lap. A bright pink cast safely cocoons the girl’s arm. Her blonde head rests on Katniss’s shoulder. Her eyes are closed, and her little body rises and falls with the deep breathing of sleep.

Katniss continues to sing, unaware of Peeta’s presence. He doesn’t recognize the tune she’s singing. It’s not a Christmas carol, at least not one he’s ever heard before, but he continues to listen, captivated by her voice. It’s soft and decidedly feminine, but there’s raspy undercurrent to it that gives him chills. It’s like the first sip of a rich, smoky bourbon.

Gingerly, he tiptoes towards the bed and stands before her for several more minutes, until Katniss finally lifts her eyes. She immediately stops singing. Peeta smiles and nods towards Ivy.

“Someone is worn out,” he whispers. Katniss’s lips twitch into a chagrinned smile.

“I’m sure the second we get home she’ll be wide awake and it’ll take forever to get her into bed. She was already amped up about Santa Claus before this.” She tips her head and gestures with her chin towards Ivy’s arm.

“Warm milk. With a little bit of cinnamon,” he suggests.

“Really?” Her eyes round. “Cinnamon? That really works?” Disbelief clouds her words. He shrugs sheepishly.

“I have no idea. No kids. And I’ve never had much trouble sleeping. I’m usually asleep the minute my head hits the pillow. But I’ve heard from a friend with a toddler that it does the trick.” He waits for her to say something—anything—in response, but she doesn’t. Her gaze is back on the sleeping toddler in her arms.

Watching her stare tenderly at her niece causes something unexpected to claw at Peeta’s chest and he’s overwhelmed by a fierce compulsion to want to keep her here, to get to know more about her. It’s been a long time since he felt this kind of instant attraction to a woman. Why couldn’t he have met her under different circumstances?

“Are we all done, doctor?”

Peeta startles from his thoughts and offers Katniss an apologetic smile.

“Yes, sorry. You are good to go as soon as you sign here—” He holds the clipboard at an angle, to allow her to sign without having to disturb Ivy, “and here.” He flips the sheet back to the second page and she scrawls her name across the line there, too. Normally a nurse would go over discharge papers and protocol with patients, but Peeta had taken it upon himself to grab Ivy’s. He needed to spend every possible minute in Katniss’s presence.

Once the release forms are complete, he review the plan for Ivy’s follow-up care, including how to manage any pain she has and when she’ll need to return to have the cast removed. Katniss listens attentively.

When he’s finished, she stands up slowly, her movements tentative so as not to jostle Ivy. A sigh parts the little girl’s lips and she stirs, but she remains asleep. God, she’s cute, Peeta thinks.

“Thank you, Dr. Mellark,” Katniss says softly. “For everything. I know what you did…” She falters. “I mean, I know we, ah, weren’t next, and ah…” Peeta waves a hand dismissively, sensing her discomfort with his hijacking of the queued patients.

“It was my pleasure,” he replies. “Little girls should be home on Christmas Eve. Waiting for Santa.” He echoes Katniss’s earlier words. “I hope he’s good to her.”

He doesn’t miss the forlorn expression that flits across Katniss’s face as she glances down at her sleeping niece.

“He can’t bring her what she wants most, but he’ll try,” she murmurs and moves towards the open curtain. Just before she steps out into the hall, she pauses and turns to face Peeta.

“Merry Christmas,” she adds.

“Merry Christmas,” he concurs. With a faint smile, she steps around the curtain. It rustles in her wake and resettles. Peeta exhales and slumps against the wall, regret washing through him, followed by a stronger wave of sadness at seeing Katniss go. If it hadn’t been for Ivy, he might have concocted some kind of delay to keep Katniss here longer, found some excuse to pry more information out of her. Like if she’s single. A surge of adrenaline spikes in his blood. He can’t let her go this easily.

He bolts out into the corridor, scanning the bustling hallway for any sign of Katniss and Ivy, but they’ve vanished. Disappointed, his shoulders slump as he trudges towards the nurses’ station to hand off Ivy’s file.

It’s probably best, a nagging little voice inside him taunts, and he reluctantly concedes that it probably is. As much as he’d love to finally shut his mother up and find a woman that he’d want to spend more than a night with, it’s not fair to subject one to the kind of schedule he has to keep. New doctors are low-man-on-the-totem-pole. He’s had mostly graveyard shifts and he’s often on call. It’s his dream to have a pediatric practice, but he’s well aware that he’ll have to toil for a couple of years to get on track to make that dream a reality.

A few minutes later, en route to his next examination, Peeta spies Johanna, one of the triage nurses, coming out of the room Ivy had occupied. His eyes immediately narrow when his gaze lands on her left arm.

“Was that in there?” He motions towards the vacated room and then nods towards the stuffed cat Johanna has wedged under her armpit.

“What, the cat? Yeah. It must have fallen under the bed. I’ll take it to the station, in case someone comes back to claim it.”

Ivy’s cherubic little face flashes in Peeta’s mind. He remember how fiercely she had been clutching that cat, and how she had reluctantly agreed to put it down when it had been time for Delly, another one of the triage nurses, to take her for X-rays.

Peeta’s pulse quickens and he immediately thrusts his hand towards Johanna. “I’ll take it,” he says impulsively. She wrinkles her nose and cocks her head, her hazel eyes intensely scrutinizing him. Though they have a casual friendship, Johanna is far too insightful for her own good. Peeta doesn’t really need her questioning his motives for taking possession of the toy.

“The little girl it belongs to goes to preschool with Max. I’ll make sure he takes it to her after the holiday break.” Fuck, that lie flew off his tongue so easily he almost believes it himself. Johanna shrugs and tosses Peeta the cat.

“Suit yourself. One less thing to overflow the Lost and Found.” She strides past him and disappears into Triage 6. He stares down at the stuffed animal. His heart skips another beat and a slow smile tugs at his mouth.

~*~*~*~

Stifling another yawn, Peeta squints at the numbers above the garage. He’s definitely in the right place. He kills the engine and sits for a moment, glancing at the clock on the navigation system. It’s quarter after nine. Early, but not obscenely so. When his shift had ended at six am, he had driven home and fought the urge to crawl into bed; instead, he grabbed a quick shower and freshened up. True, part of him hadn’t wanted to see Katniss Everdeen again looking like the bedraggled, exhausted mess he was at the end of a rotation, and also true, he was going to have to clean up before he’s due at his parents’ house at one. But he also knew he couldn’t really have shown up at Katniss’s house at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, even if he suspects Ivy likely had her up by then. He recalls, with a wistful smile, that Christmas morning was the one morning he and his brothers were always awake before his father. It was only a question of which Mellark brother was going to be the first to rouse the others. Him being the youngest, it was usually him, he admits with a wider grin.

He quietly exits his car, careful not to slam the door, and gingerly steps across the icy driveway. He pauses at the un-shoveled front walk, where a pristine blanket of snow blocks his path. “Shit,” he whispers, gritting his teeth as he takes the first step. His foot plunges into the deep drift, up to nearly his calf. He braces himself and takes a huge step, hoping to eat up the distance in a few long strides. Fortunately, it’s not a long front walk. He reaches the also un-shoveled front steps and carefully ascends them. He contemplates ringing the doorbell, but instead raps his knuckles against the door. His breath pipes out in white plumes and he rubs his palms together for warmth as he waits.

No one comes to the door, at least not immediately. Peeta lifts his fist again, but just before his knuckles can connect with the wood again, the front door opens a crack and he’s suddenly looking at Katniss. Those silver eyes round almost comically as recognition lights them.

“D-Doctor Mellark? Wh-what are you….”

“Hi. Merry Christmas,” he begins. “I thought Ivy would be missing this.” He smiles and holds up the stuffed cat.

Katniss stares at him, her lips parting faintly, and shock and confusion war on her pretty face. But then her grey eyes darken with what Peeta can only describe as restrained fury.

She opens the door fully and glares at him.

“You had Ivy’s cat?” she accuses.

“Uh…yeah…” he stammers, his own confusion welling. Why is she so angry? “My nephew…he has a bear. Otis. Can’t sleep without that thing. I thought if Ivy is anything like Max…well, she’d be missing this.” He holds the cat out to Katniss. She snatches it so violently that she stumbles backwards. Peeta is equally jarred, but his jolt is from the very brief brush of Katniss’s fingers against his when she had grabbed the toy.

But Katniss gives him no time to revel in the feeling.

“So this is why no one at the hospital had a goddamned clue what I was talking about when I called there looking for this cat an hour ago!” she spits.

Shit, Peeta thinks, an uneasy feeling clawing its way into his gut.

“Why the fuck—” He can’t help but notice her slight hesitation before she lobs the obscenity at him. “—would you take my niece’s cat? Is this something normal people do?” She’s shivering visibly as she rants, a clear consequence of stepping onto her front porch wearing nothing but green plaid pajama pants and a threadbare black Henley shirt.

“I….I…” He shakes his head. He’s not even sure how to defend his actions. He can’t very well tell her his ulterior motives in bringing the stuffed cat back to her niece. Not now. He definitely fucked this up.

“I was just trying to be nice. That I’d save you a trip on Christmas morning,” he finishes lamely.

Katniss’s nostrils flare and her jaw flexes. “Christmas morning,” she mutters, just barely audible over the clattering of her teeth. “Did it occur to you, Dr. Mellark, that I might be looking for Ivy’s cat and I might call the hospital looking for this cat?” She shakes the toy in his face. “And did it occur to you that, in spite of all the toys she had just opened, Ivy might be bawling and throwing a fit because Buttercup was missing?”

Buttercup, he has to assume, is the stuffed cat.

She pauses, as if waiting for him to defend himself, but all he can do is swallow against the lump crowding his throat.

So she continues, “They made me think I was crazy—but not until after they left me on hold for 20 minutes while I tried to calm a wailing toddler. And then they said there was no toy matching this description in the Lost and Found. And that’s because you had it!” Her eyes are a maelstrom now, but he notices that an edge of frustration has crept into her furious tone.

“And now Ivy doesn’t have it. So thank you. Thank you very much, Dr. Mellark. Merry Christmas.” And before Peeta can release the breath he’s been holding during her outburst and plead his case, she whirls around, her disheveled braid lancing through the air like a whip, and slams the door behind her. Stunned, Peeta can only stare at the wreath on the door as he processes what just happened.

What. The. Fuck.

Heart pounding, gut churning, Peeta retreats to his car. He takes a few minutes to absorb the shock of his encounter with Katniss, his mind reeling through the accusations she made. He never would have expected her to react like this. So much for any shot with Katniss Everdeen.

He finally gathers his composure and navigates out of her complex. As he drives, his mind continues replaying Katniss’s words over and over, and he finds one thing nags at him.

And now Ivy doesn’t have it.

Those words don’t make much sense to him. He just gave the stuffed animal back to Katniss. She can give it back to Ivy. She’ll have it now. In her wrath, Katniss just wasn’t being rational, he decides.

But her words continue to haunt him off and on for the rest of the day. Along with persistent images of Katniss that further torment him. She is never far from his conscious thoughts. As he sits down next to the fireplace in his parents’ house with a tumbler of scotch to exchange gifts with his brothers and his nephews, he finds himself wondering who Katniss is celebrating with. Ivy, obviously. But does she have other family?

By the time the Mellarks all settle around the table for dinner, he’s conjured up the notion that Katniss may not be married, but she surely has a devoted boyfriend who is showering her with gifts at this very moment. Her mood is infinitely better than what Peeta witnessed earlier. She’s probably dressed nice for him, and he’s sitting around her dining room table with Katniss and Ivy, like a makeshift family.

His mother’s irritation is palpable when she has to command his attention twice to try and draw him into the discussion centered on Rye’s upcoming wedding. Peeta murmurs the apology he knows she expects and feigns his dutiful brotherly interest for Rye’s benefit the remainder of the meal. But a dull ache has taken up residence in the center of his chest and he realizes just how badly he wants what his brothers have.

He just won’t be having it with Katniss Everdeen.

#everlark #the hunger games #everlark fanfiction #court81981

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purple-baby-d · 4 years ago

Text

overthinking over you.

Lee Donghyuck (Haechan — NCT) X female reader.

Genre: Fluff, smut.

Word count: 8,672.

Content: student!hyuck, student!reader, sportplayers!nct, kissing, first time sex (male), dry humping, foreplay, fingering, depictions of violence that may be upsetting for some readers, I kinda made Johnny a dick so sorry to y’all beforehand, just some lovely and probably cringey au to have a valentine’s day feast before valentine’s day because I realized I haven’t written an au for my best friend in a while and the 90′s Love era Haechan has been attacking me for long enough so I decided to do something about it.

Brief: Captain of the hockey team, Honor Roll student, an amazing friend and the pride and joy of his parents, Lee Donghyuck certainly has it all to other people’s eyes, but what about the girl he’s dreamed of? No, he’s pretty much a great overthinker for that. But now that she broke up with her boyfriend, will his head get on the way of him getting to her heart?

Dedicated to @theravengoddess, happy Valentine’s day, bestie! I love you and thank you for being with me through the ups and downs 💜

After some long hours of practice, the hockey team was finally sent to the lockers by the coach, the old man’s chest was filled with pride by his back-to-back champion, the Neo Cultural Tech All-Stars. But of course, he didn’t want his players to slack off, so he wouldn’t let them know that.

The man of the hour, Lee Donghyuck, got out of his warm shower to dress up and go home, finding his fellow team players in the lockers. “Hey, nice practice today, Hyuck”, Jeno complimented, patting his shoulder. “Thanks, man. You were quite impressive out there too”, he smiled at him. “You guys wanna crash at my place to study for the finals? My last brain cell died trying to figure out the Algebra study guide”, Mark sighed, pulling his red hoodie down as he slipped his arms into the sleeves. “I’m down, I seriously need divine help for that one”, Sungchan said, tying the laces of his sneakers. “Me too, the question is if our savior will be there to help us”, Yangyang teased, looking at his team captain.

The blonde looked at him with a little smile, shaking his head. “You guys are truly a pain in the ass”, he sighed. “Oh, come on, Hyuck! I’ll pay for the pizza”, Yangyang pleaded, truly concerned about his grades. “You know if I don’t get at least a B, I won’t be able to stay in the team, what are you gonna do without your heartthrob?” he asked while pouting and batting his eyes. “But WinWin has good grades”, Mark teased, making his fellows laugh and Hyuck sigh. “Fine, but if you start staring at your phone instead of studying, I will whoop your ass”, Donghyuck agreed, and the rest of them high-fived each other.

“Ayo, Ten!”, Mark called out, looking at the guy who had just gotten out of the shower. Donghyuck saw something weird in him, he looked as if he was in a rush. “We’re having a group study session at my place, Hyuck will help us with the Algebra study guide, you down?”, he asked. “I’ll have to pass, guys. Johnny is pissed, it seems like he and Y/N broke up”, he said, making Donghyuck stop in his tracks, shocked. “What? What for?”, Mark asked again, concerned for Ten’s stepbrother, the star of the school’s martial arts team. “You know Johnny, she probably found out he cheated on her or something, but I’m still his brother, so I gotta be there for him”, Ten sighed, getting dressed within five minutes with his hair still dripping wet. “Anyways, maybe the next time, take care, y’all!”, he said before rushing out of the lockers’ room.

Jeno looked at his blonde friend, knowing exactly what he was probably thinking. His seemingly hopeless love was finally available again, how exciting was that? However, he looked rather terrified, and it was because his overthinking head was working at full speed.

Oh God, is she okay? Did Johnny hurt her badly? Should I text her? What if she doesn’t wanna talk about it? What if she doesn’t wanna talk at all? What if she doesn’t like boys anymore after this? Irene started dating Seulgi after Junmyeon broke up with her, what if Y/N does that too? Should I go with her? But I already told the guys I would help them... Jesus, Lee Donghyuck, you’re such an idiot.

Lee Donghyuck had many virtues, sadly his biggest enemy was his head.

“Guys, I think we lost him”, Sungchan said, as he saw Donghyuck spacing out. “What?” he said, once he realized his surroundings. Mark patted his shoulder, “Lee Donghyuck, you’re truly one of a kind. If y’all ready, let’s go”, he said, and their group left the lockers and headed to the parking lot, where everyone got into Donghyuck’s black Jeep to head off to Mark’s place. However, the team captain was still thinking about his long-time friend, who he’s had a crush on for the longest time. He simply shook it off, he was a man of his word, so he would help his friends and once they’re done with studying, his head would be clear enough to know what to do.

Because there was nothing better for Lee Donghyuck to clear his mind than a good Algebra study guide.

“Oh, man, thank God it’s over!”, Sungchan yawned, stretching after finishing the last problem of the study guide and the last slice of pizza left on the third box, “I get it all now, how did you do that?”, Yangyang asked, looking at Donghyuck with utter confusion. “Well, it’s quite simple if you actually get your head in it”, the blonde replied, saving the study guide back in his backpack before grabbing his phone, still wandering between texting you or not. It wouldn’t be weird, you’ve known each other since kindergarten and been friends for years. However, your ex-boyfriend, the widely-known playboy Seo Johnny, had kept you from talking ever since you started dating last summer, and honestly, Donghyuck didn’t want you to have problems because of him.

He loved you a lot to do that.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, Jeno, do you want a ride?”, you asked the only one within your group you knew didn’t plan on staying over at Mark’s or lived close enough to walk home. Jeno logically nodded, picking up his bag and saying his respective goodbyes. Of course, something seemed to click in Jeno’s head when Donghyuck offered to give him a ride home: you lived in front of his house. Obviously, he wasn’t going to point that out, knowing Donghyuck, he would take back his offer, and he honestly didn’t want to walk the ten blocks that distanced Mark’s place to his.

“You think I should talk to her?”, Donghyuck asked halfway through, looking at Jeno briefly as they got to a red light. Jeno sighed, taking his sight away from the window to look at his friend. “Honestly, Hyuck? You’ve been in love with her since fifth grade, you should gather the balls to tell her once and for all, it’s so fucking frustrating to deal with your overthinking ass head”, he replied, taking a deep breath afterward. What hurt Hyuck the most was knowing that he was right and that even after all those years, he’d always see you run into another guy’s arms.

First, it was Lucas, your boyfriend from sixth to eighth grade. He had a wealthy family and was the school’s fencing champion. And then, it was Johnny, who you’d been with since barely months after you broke up with Lucas. Sadly, it has always been the same for Donghyuck: as soon as he gathers the courage to ask you out, you’d already started dating someone else. You have a long, toxic relationship with the new guy, he breaks your heart, you go to him. It was the routine he was used to, the routine his thoughts reserved for him every time. But after parking his car in front of Jeno’s house, he decided that was about to change.

“You sure you’re okay? I’m sorry if I said something-”, Jeno tried to apologize, but Donghyuck cut him off. “It’s alright, Jen. You said what was in your head and I respect that, mostly because you’re right”, he sighed, looking down for a while before taking a deep breath and reaching out his hand for a small handshake with his friend. “I’ll see you tomorrow”, he grinned, as Jeno got out of the car. “Thanks for the ride, drive home safely!”, the raven-haired boy exclaimed as he walked into his house. Donghyuck stayed outside for a while, and while he did, he sighed as he kept thinking what was the right thing to text you.

But decided to let all of that go, he just typed the first thing that came to his head and pressed sent, locking his phone so he wouldn’t keep looking at it on his way home.

“Johnny is a dick, and I think it’s time for me to say I told you”, Wendy laughed as you simply shook your head. Yeah, they all warned you, it’s true. But the truth also was you never really had super strong feelings for Johnny, nor Lucas, nor for any of the boys you’ve dated before. But then, why would you date them? Because you weren’t a fan of loneliness, and even though most of those guys were assholes —especially and at a ridiculous level, Johnny—, they wouldn’t miss the most stupid excuse to be with you when you were alone, which sadly because of your parents’ job was pretty often. “Yeah, I know I should’ve listened to you, Wen” you rolled your eyes as you threw one of your stuffed animals at your friend.

But as soon as she threw another one back, specifically the bear with the hockey team’s uniform, your eyes were about to bawl out. “Hey, be careful with this one!” you said, making sure it was still in perfect conditions. All of your friends looked at you, quite taken aback by your reaction. However, Demi, your neighbor, smiled a little before explaining your reaction. “All the other stuffed animals were from the idiots, but Lee Donghyuck gave her that one”, she sat next to you, as you both smiled while looking at each other. “Lee Donghyuck? As in the hockey team’s captain, Lee Donghyuck?”, Joy asked, quite excited. You nodded, letting out a small sigh as you thought of him.

“I’ve heard he’s gay, I mean, he hasn’t gone public about a relationship like... ever? And besides, he has rejected every girl that’s asked him out”, Irene said, quite as nicely as ever. “No offense, I mean, I’m obviously an ally... but, how come such a hot piece of cake like him has never dated someone?”. Seulgi looked at her girlfriend, quite shocked at her way to describe him. “Jeno told me he has a crush on someone since fifth grade, but he’s quite an overthinker, he needs to ask his left foot before moving the right one”, Demi chuckled, “But I think that’s cute, he’s been a good friend to Y/N as far as I’m concerned, and if he ever decides to step out of his shell, I bet he will be the exception to the all athletes are idiots rule”.

This last phrase stayed in your mind as Seulgi, Irene, Wendy and Joy left, as they had told Yeri they would go over to her house for a good spiriting session before the cheerleading championship you’d enroll into in a few weeks. You passed, you were scared as hell of those things, and honestly, you preferred to spend some quality time with your neighbor before she went overseas to a musical exchange program. “Ugh, I’m gonna miss you so much, bitch”, you said as you hugged her, making her chuckle. “Hey, I’ll be sending you as many pictures as you want, and I’ll buy you gifts while I’m there, I promise I’ll try every single street food dish London has to offer just for you”, she said, letting out a sigh as she watched through your bedroom’s window. “I’ll miss you and Jeno so much...”, she muttered. You playfully pushed her, “Hey, you’re with your wife right now! Stop thinking about your boyfriend, say you’ll miss me!”, you yelled at her as you both laughed.

Your phone vibrated as a message arrived, and you grabbed it from its previous spot in your bed. As you read who it was from, you simply smiled, something your friend didn’t miss out on. “Let me guess, it’s your gay best friend”, she mocked you, referring to Irene’s comment on the rumors about his private life. You simply looked at her for a second to return your attention to the text.

You typed the answer quickly, quite excited about the fact that he texted you first when it was usually the other way. Demi stared at you while you wrote the message, quite unsure as to why you looked so hyped up.

Hyuckie:

Hey, I heard about you and Seo, I’m sorry.

You felt a pillow being thrown your way, and you looked up only to find your friend looking at you, pretending to be pissed. “Hey, you’re with your wife right now! Stop texting your crush, let’s watch a movie!”, you laughed again at your silly “jealous” attitudes, and ended up turning on your laptop to watch a movie before going to bed.

You:

Hey... it’s fine, I was warned but I still did it.

How are you? I kinda missed you.

Of course, you’d chosen strategically to play the one movie Demi falls asleep watching so you could read Donghyuck’s answer to your texts, and you were a little too excited over it.

Hyuckie:

I missed you too, you should start cheering for the hockey team too!

Would you like to grab a bite tomorrow after class and catch up?

My treat ;)

You:

Are you asking me out?

You asked teasingly, making Donghyuck’s head insane as he laid in his bed, reading your message over and over again thinking about his next move.

Was it too soon? Is it too little? Should I say no? What if she was joking? What if she doesn’t want a date? What if I screw up and she never wants to talk to me again? Reply quickly, idiot! She’ll think you’re ignoring her!

Leaving his thoughts aside, he typed what his heart told him to and sent it, quite to your shock as you read it.

Hyuckie:

If I was, would you say yes?

Biting on your lip as Donghyuck’s hands trembled, you couldn’t hold back a smile. If your friend was right, this would end with the bad streak of dating idiots you’ve had so far, and you’d finally be happy with someone who actually gave you your place. So without thinking it any further, you replied something that made your friend’s heart skip a beat.

You:

Meet me tomorrow after class.

“You asked her out?!”, Jeno exclaimed in shock as he read the small text conversation on Hyuck’s phone. He nodded, and Jeno showed a huge surprised face, “What? I thought that was what you wanted me to do”, the blonde said, quite not getting his friend’s reaction. “I’m just... shocked. I thought it would still take you weeks, days at least. Hyuck, I’m so fucking proud of you!”, he hugged Hyuck as he patted his back. “Damn, our little Hyuck is finally growing up, this and the fact that we slew those Algebra finals is a matter of celebration!” Mark said excitingly. “You just wanted an excuse to throw a party, didn’t you?” Sungchan rolled his eyes, smiling at his friend’s enthusiasm.

“I think I’ll catch up later, I promised Demi I’d be with her tonight”, Jeno sighed. It was a mystery to everyone why he looked so down lately, and it was merely because Jeno wasn’t the sharing type. He liked to keep his problems to himself, in his books it was alright because everyone had their own stuff to deal with. However, quite frequently, the exception to that rule was Donghyuck, but he kept things to himself whenever they were with the rest of the guys.

So once the guys headed off to the library to study a bit more for the rest of their final exams, Hyuck patted Jeno’s shoulder. “I know something’s off, Jeno”, he looked at his friend in the eye, which made Jeno sigh. “Demi is taking off to London for the summer break, and God knows how much longer”, he finally told him. “And I don’t mean to keep her here, because I know that’s her dream, and had it been mine, she’d support me until the very end, but...”, Jeno stared at the ground as they kept walking, not really wanting to say what sounded so selfish in his head, but was truly the only thing that he had in his mind. “You don’t want her to leave”, his friend completed, wrapping his arms around him.

“Jeno, if there’s something I know for sure it’s how much you and Demi love each other”, he chuckled, trying to cheer his friend up. “You’ve been together... God, for as long as I can remember. You’ll survive this, you just gotta let things flow”. Jeno looked up at him with a little smile, “How come you’ve never dated anyone and you still give great dating advice?”. They both chuckled, only for Jeno to look back at him and pat his back, “That’s some great advice, Hyuck, you should follow it too”.

As they reached the exit, both of them went separate ways. Jeno’s words kept ringing in the back of Donghyuck’s head as he walked towards the outdoor field’s bleachers, sitting down as he waited for you still thinking about how he would manage everything. He made an elaborate plan right after finishing the study guide last night, with his mind clear enough to let him make his choices without any further doubts. He took a deep breath and followed the little pre-game ritual he had ever since he started playing hockey: he looked straight ahead and emptied his mind from everything but what he had planned for the day: making sure you knew he’d treat you better than the rest of the idiots you’ve given your heart to.

That was his plan for the most important task he’s had to date.

“Party at Mark Lee’s place tonight, girls!”, you heard Yeri exclaim as you got changed from your PE class in the lockers. The girls looked quite excited and you texted Demi to know if she would come as well, figuring that it would be somewhere in Hyuck’s plans for the night. “Someone looks quite rushed, do you have somewhere else to be?”, Joy asked you, as she slipped her red cropped turtleneck over her head. “I’m going on a date”, you muttered as the other girls looked at you, quite mesmerized. “A date?! With who?” Wendy had the courage to ask, and you smiled as you pointed at Donghyuck’s picture from last year’s yearbook. “Lee Donghyuck?”, Irene gasped, looking at you quite amazed. “Girls, there will be six more weeks of summer this year”. Your friends giggled as you shook your head. “I mean, you’re the first girl he’s asked out like... ever?”. You sighed as you put on some lipstick, blending it with the tip of your fingers.

Seulgi looked at what you were wearing and threw a piece of clothing at you, nearly making you smudge your mascara. “Hey!”, you exclaimed, quite shocked. “You don’t plan on going to Mark’s party later with that, right? Let alone to date the hockey team’s captain”, you looked at your plain red shirt and your white mom jeans, quite confused as you straightened the clothing ball your friend threw your way. “That’s my beloved white furry jacket, it will look cute with that and your matching bucket hat. And it will help you look like you made at least a little effort to look different today”. You dedicated her a little grin as you slipped the jacket on, finding yourself looking like a 90′s teen movie star. “Thank you!”, you told her, walking out the locker room as she yelled one final, “You better take care of it!”.

You jogged your way to the fields as you realized the bell rang twenty minutes ago, afraid of making Donghyuck think you’d forgotten or played with him. A part of you even thought he probably wouldn’t be there. However, you found him sitting in the bleachers, staring at his phone. “Hey, sorry, did you wait too long?”, you asked concerned, only to be greeted by one of his beautiful smiles. He got up, fixing his hair as he rushed down to your encounter, smiling your way. “I was talking to Jeno, I just got here”, he shrugged, a little white lie he made to keep you from feeling bad.

Because that’s how much he loved you.

“Oh, thank God, I was so scared...” you sighed, looking at him with a little smile. “Wow, I’ve seen you every day, yet you look so different”, you grinned, looking at how much his physics had changed from the little kid you remembered: he gained muscles, he was also taller than you remembered him to be, not to mention his golden-tanned skin looked somewhat more tempting than it did before. “Well, you’re still as beautiful as I remembered you to be”, he muttered, picking a lock of your hair behind your ear. That little moment had you feeling those cliché butterflies in your stomach like you’ve never felt them before. “Shall we go now?”, he asked you, reaching his hand out for you to hold.

His hands, good lord. You thought. There was definitely something about them that made you even more excited about holding them. As soon as you held his hand, it felt as if two pieces of a puzzle had been joined. As if the event was long overdue.

You walked over to the parking lot, where your jaw dropped as soon as you saw his ride. “Since when can you drive?”, you asked quite shocked. “I got my driver's license before the last championship, my parents gifted me this after we won”, he replied, opening the passenger’s seat door for you to go inside. “Wow, what a gentleman”, you said, acting as if it was a joke. But the truth was it somewhat made you feel good. No one had ever opened a door for you, and there was Lee Donghyuck, holding your hand to help you get inside his car after he opened the door for you.

Different from other guys you’ve had the chance to ride along with, Hyuck didn’t seem to care about your shoes being dirty when they touched the car, nor about you intending to touch the car. He made you feel as if his car was yours too, and you liked that. He closed the door once you got in and surrounded the car to get in the driver’s seat. You had this stupid smile on your face, and Hyuck noticed that. “What is it?”, he asked you, quite confused but still smiling. You shook your head, “Don’t mind me, I’m just recovering from the algebra test”. He chuckled, as he started the engine, “How come everyone says that? It was a piece of cake compared to the study guide”. You looked at him while laughing, shaking your head lightly. Ever since you were kids, Donghyuck was a genius with numbers. When the teacher asked him, he said it was because he liked to have an answer to problems, and that was when you knew you needed someone like him in your life.

However, due to the situation making you realize things in a totally different way, you surely were questioning the real intentions of that wish.

You stared at him as he focused on the driveway after lending you the AUX cable so you could choose the music, his focus unbothered even with your sort of intense glare. He truly looked like a 90′s boyband heartthrob. His sportslike red and white outfit along with the chains you remember giving him for one of his birthdays a while ago... he looked good. You also smiled a little as you noticed the color coordination you had unwittingly pulled off, you truly looked like a couple... and you liked it.

Donghyuck wasn’t blind, he noticed each one of your smiles but pretended not to since he liked to see you smiling, and his head was certain in the fact that you would try to hide them if he said something about them. “Where are we going?”, you asked him, quite curious about his intention. He wasn’t using any sort of GPS, so he knew where he was going, but that only made you more anxious as to where he was taking you. “Do you remember that place where your parents threw your birthday party in fifth grade?”, he asked, making you look at him with disbelief. “The arcade where I beat you in every single game?”, you giggled. “Yup, that one. I thought it would be nice to go back there, you know... for the memories”, he explained, only to add at the end, “and they also serve some great cheeseburgers”.

The pure definition of the word “nostalgia” hit you as soon as Hyuck parked the car in the place’s parking lot. It was nearly empty, with just some employees going around to check on the games and some people eating in the cafeteria. “Wow, this place is exactly like I remember, they haven’t even changed the games!”, you exclaimed as Hyuck looked at your excitement with loving eyes. You looked at the guy beside you, taking your wallet out of your purse. “Well, the food’s your treat, then mine’s the games”, you said, you didn’t even let him say a word before you went over to the cashier to pay for the coins you’d play with.

The old lady sitting behind the desk looked at you with a kind smile, “That young man came in yesterday when we were nearly closing, he asked us to reconnect some of the old machines, now I get why”, she told you while looking for a few bags of coins, counting them in a machine that later poured them in a little cup. “He sure is in love with you, you’ve got quite a catch of a boyfriend”. You were about to tell her he wasn’t your boyfriend when you turned around, and your eyes found him focused on a crane game, not exactly knowing what he was so focused on getting but certainly going down the memory lane to a 12-year-old Donghyuck pulling an adorable teddy bear out of the game and giving it to you two days later with the hockey team’s jersey and his number in the back.

“I totally agree”, you muttered, smiling as you saw him pulling out the toy he’d gotten. He was so good at those games, at every game being honest. You still couldn’t believe you’d beaten him back in the day. Once the old lady handed you the coin-filled cups, you paid her and she handed you your change. As you counted the money, you realized something was off. “Excuse me, ma’am... you gave me extra change”. She shook her head, looking at you with that same smile. “Half of it is on the house, I let you pay the other half because the young man told me that you were quite stubborn”, she giggled, “Now, go and have fun! Live while you’re young”.

You smiled, thanking her as you walked back towards Donghyuck. He smiled back at your happiness, handing you an adorable stuffed animal. “How come you’re so good at those games?”, you asked him while giggling. “It’s just a matter of space measuring, calculating the probabilities of the toy slipping out or falling off the crane, choosing the most available toy out of the bunch... and I’m boring you”, he smiled nervously as he saw you looking at the toy, an adorable white bear with a red bow. You looked at him again only to find him scratching the back of his neck.

“You weren’t, I like that about you, Hyuck”, you answered honestly. “I hate it when people are overconfident while giving answers to those questions, like when they say ‘I just can’ or that sort of stuff”, he looked at you while you spoke, making you feel listened to. He was truly listening to every single word that came out of your lips as if it was the most interesting speech ever.

Because he loved listening to you.

You spent every single coin playing different games, just like you did when you were kids, breaking your own records in every single machine you played in. You laughed the whole evening, and yet again, you managed to beat Donghyuck in every single game. “Booyah! In your face, twentieth game in a row!”, you mocked him, making your old little victory dance as he smiled, sighing. “Damn, you haven’t lost your touch”, he said, pretending to feel defeated, “Are you hungry yet?”, he asked you kindly. You nodded, and both of you made your way to the cafeteria, as you jokingly bragged about your smashing victory.

The old lady was patiently waiting for you to show up, with two gorgeous bacon cheeseburgers, french fries, and two milkshakes, what Donghyuck had told her to serve you the night prior. You looked at him in shock, “You remember all of this?”, you smiled as you sat down, thanking the lady when she left you your food. “It’s the house’s special, how could I forget it?”, he replied, as if wasn’t anything special. However, you knew deep down his intentions were all the opposite. You started eating, nearly crying at the sensation of memories flooding your head as soon as you gave it a bite. “It’s been so long since I’ve last had a burger this good”, you admitted. It wasn’t pretty usual for you to hang around these places anymore. It was pretty far away from your reach, yet Lee Donghyuck made it his task to make you remember the good old days.

“Why did you bring me here? I want the truth, Hyuck”, you demanded once you were done eating. He looked at you while taking a sip of his strawberry milkshake, swallowing before giving you an answer. “Well, a few years ago, on your birthday, your mother hired an entire show from the old animatronics because your friends loved them”, he started the story, one you certainly remembered. “However, you were scared shitless of them, so you ran out of the room as soon as the lights turned off for them to start the show. You thought no one noticed, but I did. And I ran behind you, only to find you looking at the zombie videogame your friends wouldn’t want to play with you because they didn’t like it”.

He looked at his hands, playing with his fingers as he left out a small chuckle. “Back then, you had this silly nickname for me, because of a bear you saw at the zoo that was named that way”, he said, only for you to complete his sentence. “Haechan”, you smiled, and he nodded. “You looked at me and smiled, and you said ‘Why are you here, Haechan? You should be watching the show, mommy thought you’d like it’. And I took out the coins I had in my pocket and told you-”. “I bet killing zombies with you is more fun”, you muttered, making him smile as you remembered it too. “Mom was so pissed she didn’t find me when the animatronics started singing the birthday song”, you chuckled, making him laugh as well. “That night, as we played, I remember thinking ‘wow, her smile is so pretty’, and it wasn’t until you first made that victory dance of yours that I realized how much I liked you” he confessed finally, leaving you speechless for a second.

You were that girl, you really were the girl Lee Donghyuck was in love with.

“You like me?”, you asked, still shocked. He nodded, not really knowing what to do with his hands. “I’ve been wanting to let you know for the longest time, but whenever I gathered the guts to do it, you started dating someone else. So I decided to keep it to myself, to be there for you as a friend if you needed me. Because even if it hurt me to see your heart break, I wanted to be there to help you fix it”, he explained to you, as the tears started coming out of your eyes. “You mean... when I started dating Lucas... you were planning to confess to me?”, your voice cracked, making him stop everything and reach out to hug you. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, caressing your back. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, nor to feel guilty or bad for me. I was upset, I’m not gonna lie... but I also decided to set you free. If you came back to me, it was because it was meant to be. And you came back every single time, so I waited until the right time until I finally decided it was now”, he told you, as you pulled back slightly to look at him in the eyes.

“Hyuck...”, you couldn’t manage to get any words out of your mouth, but he made you feel as if it was okay to leave him hanging after such an adorable confession. You felt like the biggest trash bag on Earth, and the way he treated you made you feel worse and at ease at the same time. “You need to heal, and I get that. You went through a lot with Johnny, and I know that. I’ll wait until you’re ready if you want me to, and I’ll totally leave my feelings aside if you want me to. I’ll leave it up to you”, he told you, caressing your cheeks and adjusting your hat back in its place. “Mark has a party over at his place, do you want to go?”, he asked you softly, wiping your tears away.

You sighed, looking down for a minute. “Hyuck, I’ll give you an answer, I promise”, you told him, which he let out a little giggle. “It’s truly okay, Y/N. Come on, Jeno told me Mark’s already bragging about his b-boy moves”, he told you, reaching out his hand again after leaving a good tip for the old lady, thanking her again before the two of you left. He always found a way to make you feel better, even when he was probably the most upset.

Because he loved you.

“Yo, Hyuck! You came just in time for another round of beer pong!” Mark greeted his friend as he saw the two of you walking into the party, crowded as usual for one of Mark Lee’s parties. “You guys look fresh! Make yourselves at home, drinks at the kitchen, snacks at the table, dance floor by the pool, and the rooms upstairs are exclusively reserved for the hockey team, so you’re staying over tonight, I’m not asking”. Hyuck looked at him, “Sure, because you’ll get so drunk tonight we’ll have to babysit you again”. Mark stopped in front of him, patting his shoulder. “You know me so well, Hyuckie”, he said, messing up his hair before going back to the party. “Ayo, Winwin! Let’s go get more booze!”.

You looked at Hyuck. “Do you want anything to drink?”, he asked you, raising his voice slightly for you to listen to him despite the loud music playing in the back. “Just some Coke” you replied, and he nodded, walking over to the kitchen as you looked around for Demi, finding her sitting on a couch near the beer pong table. You hugged her, noticing she looked a little excited. “I want every last drop of the scoop, how did it go?!”, she asked you, her smile nearly going from ear to ear. “He likes me, Dem, I’m the girl Jeno was talking about. And I blanked as soon as he confessed to me”, you said, quite embarrassed. “He planned the most adorable evening ever, he did all of these adorable things for it to be perfect... and I couldn’t even say anything”. Demi looked at you concerned, only to change her expression as soon as her attention drifted to someone walking over towards you. “Girl, I don’t mean to be rude, but we really should-”, she started as she helped you get up, only to be cut off by a voice you knew pretty well.

“I see it didn’t take long for you to go over with someone new, huh?”, he told you, looking at you dead in the eye. “Well, the difference, Johnny, is that I at least waited until breaking up with you”, you replied, certainly not scared of him. “Lee Donghyuck? That shitball, seriously? So you’re messing up with my reputation for being some faggot’s cover?”, he asked you, chuckling at the idea, making Jeno and the rest of the hockey team walk over towards you as soon as they acquired awareness of the situation. “You ain’t not even a quarter of the man he is”, you replied and felt him grabbing onto your neck, freezing at the closeness. “Oh, yeah? That wasn’t what you said when I made you my bitch”.

“Hey, asshole!”, you felt released as someone pushed Johnny off of you. Demi held you protectively as Jeno walked over to the two of you, checking out to see if you were okay. “Oh, if it’s the man of the moment, I was looking for you to give you my congratulations, I guess some people settled with used things”, Johnny mocked, only to receive another push from Donghyuck. “You can say all you want about me, but leave her alone or else”. Johnny laughed in his face, “You? You will beat me? You would risk getting your ass kicked for some wasted-ass bitch? Face the facts, Lee! Lucas used her, I used her, God knows how many more have, she’s a fucking slut-!”, he was about to say something else when Donghyuck threw the first punch, with such strength it left Johnny bleeding. You gasped, knowing well enough Hyuck wasn’t the fighting type, let alone the type to start a fight, let’s not even mention starting a fight with the school’s martial arts champion.

As soon as he got punched, you felt your heart stuck in your throat. He tried throwing punches at Johnny, but the ladder returned them faster and harder. Jeno, Yangyang, Sungchan, and Ten rushed to break down the fight, looking at how Hyuck’s blood started to stain the floor. “Enough!”, Mark yelled walking into his house with Winwin and the booze they went for, with that authority voice that made him so respected and loved by everyone in his class. “Johnny, get the fuck out of my house! I give two shits, you have absolutely no right to disrespect my team captain, nor a friend of mine, nor a lady, not under my fucking roof! Get the fuck out before I call the cops!”, Ten walked him out before he looked for further trouble, mouthing a “sorry” your way. You rushed over to Donghyuck, looking at Mark once you realized how his face was bleeding.

“Do you have any first-aid kit?”, you asked him. “Upstairs, third door to the right”, he guided you. You held Hyuck’s hand and guided him over with you, quite concerned about the mess left. Jeno looked at you, knowing exactly what you were thinking. “We’ll clean this up and keep things going as if nothing happened, you go and make sure he’s alright”, he told you, “That idiot thinks everything so damn much, I can’t believe he didn’t think this through... just go with him, it’s gonna be alright” you nodded lightly. You would, you had to make sure he was alright because that fight made you realize just how different he was from every idiot you’ve dated.

Because it made you realize how much he loved you.

Having taken off Seulgi’s coat to keep it away of the blood, you found yourself tending to Hyuck’s wounds in one of the bedrooms bathroom. However, he looked more concerned about you than he was about anything related to his well-being. “Stop”, you ordered. “Stop what?”, he asked, authentically confused. “You know it’s not the first time anyone slut-shames me, right?”, you told him, passing a cotton bud over a slit in his lip. At least once the blood was off, it didn’t look that bad anymore. “It’s quite curious, due to how many campaigns women around the world hold against it, to think that the first ones to publicly degrade me were all girls”, you sighed, not wanting to look at him as you spoke. “Every girl that liked Lucas, every girl Johnny cheated on me with, every girl who wouldn’t make it past the cheerleading tryouts...”, you cleaned the mess you’d made, throwing every last piece of cotton you’d used into the trash bin.

“At this point, you could even say I’m used to it. I would even hear made-up stories about how I would be up for gangbangs with Johnny and his friends, how I sold some old man my nudes for him to pay my college tuition, how I was the one who made Seulgi and Irene bisexual...”, you finally sighed, letting out the tears you’ve held back so long it started hurting. Hyuck noticed that, and just like he did in the cafeteria, he held you close. “I’m tired, Hyuck”, you finally admitted, and he caressed your hair. “I know”, he muttered. “I’m so fucking broken I’m afraid to break the only guy who’s ever really loved me right”, you cried out, just wanting to let everything out as you pulled away from his hug, wanting to look at him as you confessed what has been going on in your heart. “Because I fucking love you, Hyuck... but I’m not even close to deserving-”.

You were cut off by his lips crashing onto yours, a sweet and delicate kiss was what you got as a response. Once he slowly pulled away, he looked at you in the eyes, his hands lightly resting on your cheeks. “You deserve the universe and more, nothing less”, he muttered. The tingling sensation that kiss left on your lips was something you’d never felt after kissing anyone before. And it was the final push for you to finally give in, for you to finally let yourself be loved.

You pulled him close again, your lips crashing on each other as your hands wrapped around his neck, his hands falling from your cheeks all the way to your waist, hugging you the way you did with him. The kiss felt so natural you just sunk into it, as well as he did. Even when his head was going insane with all kinds of questions, he decided to shut them off and follow his own advice.

He’d let things flow.

You broke apart only to guide Hyuck back to the bedroom, he looked at you as he read through your intentions. “Are you sure about this?”, he asked you, caressing your cheek. You nodded, looking at him with loving eyes. “This is the first time I’m a hundred percent sure I want to do this”, you told him. He took a deep breath and walked over to the door, locking it first than anything. He looked nervous, and what the girls had said earlier came to your mind.

“Is this your first time?”, you asked him, to which he nodded, an adorable blush tinting his cheeks. You smiled at him, he looked so adorable you wondered who was that intimidating hockey player everyone saw in the field. “It’s okay, just guide me wherever you feel like going, I’ll follow you”, you told him as you got close to him again. You learned to be cautious ever since you lost your virginity, you’d taken birth control very seriously since day one because your mother and your friends guided you to do so. So even now, when the moment came, you were calm knowing it would be alright, and you wanted Hyuck to feel that as well.

He held your waist, pulling you closer lightly and guiding you into a kiss that got more intense with time, he pulled away for a while only to sit down on the bed, pulling you into his lap to start kissing you again. Your hands grabbed his cheeks, caressing them as the kiss kept going. His hands ran down your back as the heat started rising between you, Hyuck’s kissing abilities were way beyond average, those lips of his felt like cotton candy against yours, and every time your tongue met his, you felt one step closer to heaven. He pulled you away briefly to strip down his torso, and your hands felt curious to wander around his strong build.

He played with the bottom of your t-shirt, looking at you before doing anything else. “Can I?”, he asked gently, his constant asking for consent made you even more sure you were doing the right thing. You nodded and helped him out pulling the red shirt off, revealing your black plain underwear. Once your tops were thrown somewhere on the bedroom floor, he went back to kissing you, his kisses slowly going down your neck as you reached your back to undo your bra, letting your chest fully naked for him to kiss. He took that as your consent, and his kisses went all the way down to your breasts as his hands caressed your back once more.

Little moans left your mouth as Hyuck started kissing sensitive spots of your skin, the fact that he used his mouth to roam around your skin was enough to make you feel like this was the best you’ve ever been treated in bed, and adding up the amount of love you could practically touch in him made you enjoy everything even more. You could feel something starting to press against your core as you started grinding over Donghyuck’s lap. “Fuck, you’re driving me insane, princess”, he groaned, in such a raspy voice it made you want more. You kept grinding against him, loving the small grunts that would come out of his mouth as he kept kissing you.

From one moment to another, you felt the bedsheets in your back, as Hyuck took off his pants, feeling the pressure of his throbbing erection painful enough to rush things up a little bit. Still, he managed to be somewhat delicate "throwing" you over the bed. Once there was nothing but his black boxers keeping him from complete nudity, he crawled on top of you, looking at the button of your jeans to ask "Can I?". You unbuttoned your pants while looking at the guy with a pretty smile, biting on your lower lip as he smiled at you, undoing the zip and taking the heavy fabric off your legs, then looking at your black lacey underwear to ask yet again: "Can I?". You giggled, sitting down only to reach for his lips.

He kissed back as your hand guided his to your dripping center. He looked at you, as his head made an effort to figure out what to do at this point, but remembering the shows he watched with the guys, he figured to start moving his fingers up and down, to his luck, on what turned to be your clit. Small moans made their way out of your lips, and due to your arousal, his fingers managed to slip inside you. He kissed you as he kept moving his hand at a medium pace until you pulled him away, only to leave him face up over the bed. You looked at him, playing with the elastic band of his Calvin Klein underwear.

"Can I?", you asked him softly, only for him to chuckle in embarrassment. He nodded lightly, making you smile as he watched your every move. Once his boxers were no longer a burden, you sat on his lap, making him curse as you started moving on top of him. "You'll set the pace", you told him, leaning down to kiss on his lips. And as soon as he aligned his throbbing erection to your entrance and slowly entered you, he swore he could see the stars. With his hands on your hips, he commanded you to go slowly, as you both moaned out how good it felt. Nice and slow, an expression you hadn't known before, certainly became your favorite after that night. And you kept kissing through the whole thing.

Because that's how much you loved each other.

After that steamy moment, you laid next to him after he helped you cleanse, your body holding his closely as he kept your hand in his heart and his arms surrounded you, one of his hands playing with your hair. He looked at you adoringly, unable to find fitting words to how beautiful you looked to his eyes in that moment. You closed your eyes for a few minutes, listening to his calm, steady breath and feeling his heart beating under your hand. For a moment, he even thought you'd fallen asleep, and that made everything ten times better to him. You slowly opened your eyes, finding that adorable smile you loved so much.

You smiled back, looking him in the eyes. "I thought you would be tired", you muttered, caressing his chest lightly. "I'm way too over the clouds to fall asleep right now, Y/N", he replied softly, making you lean over to kiss him lightly again. You looked at the hour in the digital clock that sat on the nightstand, it was 1:27 AM and the party seemed far from over. The music was still as loud as it was when you walked into the room to tend his wounds. You chuckled as you thought about the people you'd left downstairs, "Do you think Jeno and Demi are waiting for us?", you asked Hyuck, making him laugh a little. "Well, I hope they sorted things out if they are. Jeno was quite concerned earlier", he sighed, making you think the situation through.

Demi would leave in just a few days for that summer program, and Jeno would stay for the hockey team's summer camp, which was pretty much mandatory if he planned to keep his place as a headline player in the team. You knew how important he was to the team, but you also knew Jeno loved your best friend more than anything. And you knew for fact distance wasn't compatible with relationships.

"I think Jeno bought that plane ticket in the end", Hyuck shrugged, making you look at him in shock. "What do you mean?", you asked him. "Well, ever since Demi first applied for the program, he talked to the coach about it. Of course, the coach took a while to understand his issues, but as soon as we won the championship again, he gave Jeno the greenlight", he explained you, staring at the ceiling as he spoke. "Mark and I offered to help him with the expenses, and the coach even booked him in a good hockey camp in London", he smiled at the thought. "However, he's held back because he knows how much this means to Demi, and he didn't want her to lose focus because of him. If there's one thing the coach taught us well, was to get our head in the game as soon as we entered the field, and he didn't want to keep her from doing that. But I think Demi and him talked about it today, because he looked happy while talking to the guys before the fight".

You looked at him still in disbelief, making him giggle. "Is there something on my face?", he asked, and you jokingly punched him. "I thought he and Demi would break up! How could you know about all of this and not tell me?", he giggled and held you close again, as you "fought back", pretending to be angry. "Don't be mad at me, princess. Jeno had his reasons to keep my love for you a secret from Demi, I had mine not to tell you about this", he asked you softly. "They will be having fun in London, you and I will stay here. I think we should join them downstairs if neither one of us can sleep, just so you can have the tea spilled from them".

However, you shook your head. "No, the door is still locked and I still want some sort of compensation for keeping me from knowing my OTP found a way to make it through the challenges of life!", you asked as you grabbed his cheeks, making him smile and sigh. "Say no more", he said, turning the lamp off before kissing you again.

Happy Valentine’s season, everyone! If you love someone, let them know.

#haechan #nct haechan #nct dream #nct 127 #nct #lee donghyuck #nct lee haechan #nct lee donghyuck #nct haechan fluff #fluff #kpop valentines day #theravengoddess #I MISS YOU UNIVERSE

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ofbooksandaesthetics · 4 years ago

Text

Battle of the Bands

Attack on Titan/ Shingeki no Kyojin

Levi/Reader

Modern Band AU

Summary: As the guitarist of The 104th, you are invited to play with your favourite band The Scouts.

Warnings: slight profanity but not much

Author’s note: I listened to Queen of White Lies by Orion Experience 10 times in one bus journey and couldn’t help but imagine Jean singing it about Mikasa. And voila! This imagine was born :)

From a young age, you’d always been obsessed with music. From your dad playing jazz on a lazy Sunday afternoon to your mum playing R&B as she cleaned, you had always been surrounded by it. It followed you everywhere so it was no surprise when you were gifted a guitar for your 9th birthday.

You spent hours each day practising fingerpicking, then moving onto chords and then fully-fledged songs. As you grew so did tastes - and your guitar collection.

Before moving into the 6th grade, your family moved for a new job, leaving you without friends and having to start a new life in the city of Trost. The one thing that was ever consistent was the strings of your guitar and the beats from the speakers, which became your solace in the coming weeks. And said beats caught the attention of your new next-door neighbour.

Jean Kirstein was also massively into music, and when he walked past your house he could hear the amp blaring from your open window. He became enthralled and would often leave his window open to catch even just a few notes.

The Saturday before school started, Jean was forced by his mother to introduce himself to you (she said you had to have at least one friend before starting school) and by doing so Mrs Kirstein caused a life long friendship to bloom. He was forced into your house by your mother and lead upstairs to your room. He was greeted by band posters, from MCR to The Beatles, and an acoustic and electric guitar hanging on the wall side by side. But what caught his gaze was the massive “SCOUTS” poster above your bed.

“WOW! That’s so cool, you like The Scouts!” He exclaimed as he entered your room, causing you to jump from your magazine and stare at the brown-haired boy invading your space.

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” You shouted, giving your mum a quizzical glare as she smiled at the boy's excitement. Your voice seemed to pull the boy out of his oasis and he met your eyes with a blush and a shrug.

“I’m Jean. My mum sent me, we live next door.” Before you could introduce yourself, he had already started to speak again “I’ve heard you playing your guitar. You’re really good!”

At this your mum left the two of you two it, only returning 3 hours later to find you both on the floor, with you playing whilst Jean sang along. Noticing the time, Jean jumped up remembering his mum warning to be back by dinnertime.

“It’s been great meeting you! If you want I can meet you outside on Monday and I’ll introduce you to my friends. They’d love to hear you play too! Connie’s really into the drums and Marco has been learning bass.”

Hearing this your eyes lit up and your mum’s heart warmed at the idea of you finally enjoying your new life.

“That sounds great, I’ll see you then!” You called as your mum lead him out.

4 YEARS LATER

The years passed quickly and it didn’t take you long to forget the pain of your old life and become enamoured with your new friends. Jean did indeed introduce to his friends Connie, Sasha and Marco, and it didn’t take long for you to become the best of friends. The five of you would all meet Connie’s garage, sometimes just chatting but more often than not bringing along your instruments for a jam session. Four years went by of you playing lead guitar, Marco jamming on bass, Connie smashing on percussion and Jean accompanying with his gruff drawl, whilst Sasha sat atop of the counter, sadly not having any musical talents other than occasional tamborining. And the four years went by easily until Sasha let out a suggestion.

“You guys should start a band. Like a proper one, with gigs and shit” She declared, soon after stuffing her mouth with a cake Mrs Springer had brought in.

“See at least someone appreciates my musical talents” quipped Jean with a quirk of his eyebrows, causing you all to laugh.

“I’ve got to admit, I’m down! We’ve been playing for years, we even played at last years prom.” Seeing no reason against the idea, you voiced your opinion.

“Yeah but that was prom. We know all of them anyway, if we did gigs it would be to strangers and critics and stuff” Huffed Connie.

“Yeah, and potential talent scouts! Imagine if we got signed! What do you think Marco?” Jean turned to face he freckled boy awaiting his response.

“I guess it could be fun.” He said, tilting his head to the side and turning to Connie. “I think we should”

With a consensus of four out of five, all eyes were set on Connie, pleading him to agree. He spluttered, not expecting you all to be serious. After a moment of staring at you all incredulously, he finally gave in.

“Fine! But if we got told we’re shit it’s on you guys” He sighed, but was drowned out by all your cheers.

2 YEARS LATER

After that day, you had all put in the effort to perfecting your craft and coming up with your own songs. You and Jean would have weekly sleepovers, pulling all-nighters to get the perfect verses. And it wasn’t long until you booked your first gig, which was a success. Nearly the whole grade had turned up to support you, and you soon became a local legend. And in honour of them, you had named your band The 104th, due to being the 104th grade since your school was founded.

Your increased fame, got you gigs outside of Trost, on larger stages than the small bars you were used to. You had released your first album and we’re having a small jam session, when Sasha’s, who had taken up the role as manager, phone rang. You all carried on with your conversation until Sasha quickly stood up and ran across the room, her voice getting slightly louder, causing you all to stare at her.

“OMG! That sounds great, we can be there for the soundcheck in less than an hour. Thank you so much, for this opportunity. We appreciate it! Thank you, bye!” She exclaimed with wide eyes as her smile grew and grew. After ending the call she whipped around, before letting out a screech

“OI, OI! What’s going on?” Asked Connie, as he walked up to Sasha flicking her forehead as she squealed again.

“GUESS WHO’S OPENING FOR THE SCOUTS?!” She all but screamed whilst running to the front of the garage and throwing your jackets at you all. Realising what she meant you stood in a state of shock before opening your mouth.

“What do you mean? Opening for The Scouts. As in THE SCOUTS? They’re playing tonight, we can’t open for them.” You justified, meeting Jean’s stunned gaze.

You two had always imagined what it would be like to meet your legends, let alone open for them. After your initial meeting, the two of you had gone on for hours about your favourite songs by the band and sang along to them. You had even let him in on your crush on the lead guitarist, Levi Ackerman, for heaven’s sake. As good as an opportunity this was, you were a nervous wreck. It was one thing to play on the same stage that your favourite band had stepped on, but to play with them and meet them. That was a thing of its own.

You were knocked from your thoughts by a shoe to your head, and as you focused back in you watched Connie running around like a headless chicken. Attempting to back up his drum kit, he panicked until Sasha assured him there’d be one there for him. The rest of you seemed to kick into action and you ran about gathering your equipment before rushing home to grab gig-worthy clothes. You all met up back at Connie’s house before all piling into Jean’s minivan. Connie and Sasha were as loud as always but you, Jean and Marco seemed to still be too shocked to talk.

As you rolled up to the venue, you saw a queue of about 20 Scout super fans lined up three hours before the gig even started. You wondered how many were your fans, as Sasha had sent out announcements on every social media site possible after you guys left. You hauled your guitar case out of the van before following behind Sasha into the main doors of the venue. The crew were rushing about everywhere, and if you weren’t already used to the atmosphere you were sure you’d pass out. As you walked into the main hall, your eyes fell to the band on top of the stage. All five of you froze, in the realisation that you were in the same room as your childhood heroes. Putting your kit down, you watched as Hange Zoe lazily sat on her drum set, tapping out a quiet beat, as the lead singer Erwin, counted in the beat. Miche Zacharias swayed his hips as he set out the bassline, and Levi almost languidly strummed his electric guitar.

The five of you were pulled behind the stage before you could watch their practice start but you could still hear it as they performed their soundcheck. Experienced in the world of gigs, the four of you prepped your instruments, tuning them in case they had been messed up in the hurry of your departure. And by the time you’d finished the Scouts were walking towards you. Hange greeted you first.

“HI! OMG, we’ve heard so much about you guys. You guys are practically famous around here!” She blurted out, her excitement surprising you all. Connie seemed to be frozen as his inspiration complimented you guys. Miche let out a greeting and moved on to sit down. Leaving Erwin and Levi in front of you. Erwin stepped forward and placed out his hand, shaking and greeting you all individually. Now there was just Levi left.

Your eyes met his and you couldn’t help but blush, as he gave a small nod. Appreciative of the small gesture, you calmed slightly until Jean ruined it

“HI! We love you guys so much. Y/N even has a crush on Levi!” He blurted, his face turning bright red after realising what he had said. You gasped and without thinking smacked him across the head.

“WHAT THE HELL’S WRONG WITH YOU? WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?” But before you could apologise and defend yourself to Levi and Erwin, you were escorted to the stage for your own soundcheck. Glaring at Jean, you got in position, and were done in half an hour.

After the soundcheck, you were given time to rest, giving you all time to calm down, after the more than lively introduction. You eventually forgave Jean for his outburst but not without consequences. He would be carrying your gear for the next year’s worth of gigs.

You hadn't yet gained back the confidence to talk Levi but had spoken to the other members of The Scouts. Miche and Erwin told you about how their touring band had ditched them last minute and how they needed another opening band pronto. You were astonished to find out that Hange herself had requested you guys, but it filled your heart with warmth knowing someone as famous as her held your small-town band in high regards.

Everyone could sense your apprehension to talking to Levi but we’re all shocked when the quiet man joined you whilst getting a drink. You almost blushed when you noticed him next to you but pushed the feeling down and smiled at him. Although Jean had embarrassed you beyond belief, there was no reason to push away your childhood dream and miss the opportunity to talk to him.

“You know you we’re what inspired me to start learning the guitar?” You said. Levi didn’t reply but you decided his silence wasn’t in annoyance. “My parents were always super into music anyway but when I heard your guys' debut album it pushed me towards the guitar.” You watched him finish making his tea and leave but before he sat down, he turned his head over his shoulder.

“I’m glad to hear it” He replied, turning again and leaving. You smiled, happy that he didn’t think you were a complete freak.

2 HOURS LATER

The time had finally arrived. From the side of the stage, you could see a sea of people filling the venue and could hear the symphony of chatter. The boys were stood next to you, panting with nerves. You had never performed to such a large crowd before. You took a sharp breath before turning to them.

“Come on boys! We’ve done this before and we’ll do it again. This is just another small step before we get our own main stage like this!” Your small pep talk seemed to calm the boys and caught the attention of Erwin and Levi who were waiting to watch your performance from the side-lines. You smiled at the two but we’re now filled with dread as you realised they would be watching. You threw that fear away and gave Marco a side hug as you fixed your strap, and then followed Jean to the stage.

The lights blinded you but once your vision cleared you all but gasped at the sheer amount of sweaty bodies in front of you. You beamed brightly and gave a wink to a figure in the balcony. At least you could seem confident even if you were dying inside.

The beat of the drum surrounded you and Marco’s strumming blared out from the amps. You started plucking at your guitar and forgot about the crowd. Jean’s gravely word floated out into the dark room, and it was easy to forget you were on a stage and instead it felt like you were back in Connie’s house. As the song reached the chorus, you and Marco joined in, accompanying Jean. Eventually, you loosened up to a point where all three of you were able to dance slightly to the beat during the bridge. This seemed to get the crowd going even more and you let out a laugh, completely forgetting your inhibitions. [I imagined them performing Queen of White Lies]

Once the song finished, Jean introduced himself, and you prepared yourself for another half an hour of playing and dancing. But it passed quickly and before you knew it you we’re all sat on the sofa. Connie was still flushed chugging on his 3rd bottle of water whilst the rest of you leant back with smiles upon your faces. Your attention was piqued as The Scouts took the stage and you all shouted words of encouragement to them. This brought a smile to their faces, including a small smirk on Levi’s. You all rushed to the sidelines to watch and we’re in awe as you saw the four of them play as if they were reading each other's minds. It was as if they were symbiotic, each knowing what to do without even the slightest hesitation.

Even though you tried to focus on all of them, your focus always came back to Levi. You watched how his brow rested into a scowl as he neared a faster part of the song and how he threw his head back when lost in the moment. Your eyes widened when he took his shirt off after four songs, which Jean noticed, and started to nudge you for. Time seemed to go by so quickly that you barely noticed them finish their final song. They waved to the crowd as they left but stayed in the wings as the crowd screamed for an encore. Erwin still seemed to smile and nudged Levi towards the five of you.

“Do you guys want to join us for the encore?” He asked gruffly, his eyes set on you. You looked at the rest of the band and you all nodded before you verbally replied.

“Of course! What song are you thinking?”

“Nirvana - Love Buzz? You guys know it?” Miche asked, wiping some water from his chin. You all nodded in unison and before you know it you were all kitted up and back on stage.

The crowd went wild seeing both The Scouts and The 104th back on stage and you couldn’t help but smile as you found Levi stood next to you. You guys let loose on the song and you even attempted to have a little contest with Levi during the guitar solo for dominance. This gained a smile for the man, and you guys finished the song in no time.

Leaving the stage for the last time, you gave out a clumsy bow before running off stage. You guys went to get changed and pack up your gear but before you could get in the van the Scouts we’re back in front of you. Erwin took the lead yet again.

“We loved having you guys on stage with us! And after some thinking, we’d love it if you replaced our old band with us on the rest of the tour.”

At this Jean slammed the van door and stared at Erwin in shock. The five of you looked at each other in shock. The silence was eventually broken by Connie, who let out a scream as he ran around the van, followed by Sasha letting out profanities. The rest of you gushed and thanked the other band profusely not knowing how to appropriately respond. After formally Sasha accepted the other, Hange launched into giving out hugs, whilst Miche and Erwin gave out handshakes. Levi ignored the rest of your bandmates and made his way to you.

“I look forward to more guitar battles.” Levi remarked as dryly as ever but with a small smirk playing on his lips. Luckily this time, the others were too distracted and you were able to reply with some confidence.

“You mean to look forward to losing right?” you quipped, knowing this would be the start of something great.

#aot au #snk imagines #aot imagines #attack on titan imagine #shinegki no kyojin imagine #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi imagine #levi ackerman imagine #aot au imagine #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk #aot

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