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finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

What if a security guard wouldn’t let you back in the arena if you went out to get something. And they didn’t believe that you were harrys gf and just thought you were a crazy fan

oooh it’s been done before but here’s my version!! ;

You were running late.

It was already 7pm and you were only getting out of your car in the car park. Harry was due to be on stage in an hour and you hadn’t even seen him yet. The traffic around Dallas today has been awful. Chocker block. You’d been with Harry all day, up until 3 hours ago when he had to leave the hotel to come to the stadium for rehearsals. Normally you’d go with him, but you were so tired that you wanted a little nap before coming. The problem here was you overslept.

There were no Ubers available and a taxi would be far too expensive at this time, so you drive in Harrys car instead. You’d been following Harry on tour in his car, so when you get to different destinations you can go out on ball day trips if you want to without the obscenity of a huge tour bus or paying for Ubers everywhere. It was the main reason you were so tired though, travelling across country and into different time zones. It would be so much easier if this was the UK.

You grabbed your purse and your jacket, locking the car as you got out and started running for the backstage entrance. It was easy to make it there and you noticed security guards already standing there.

“Hi!” You smiled, slightly short of breathe. You were about to move past them when one of them shoved your shoulder back, making you stumble back unbalanced. “Wha—”

“ID and backstage pass to get through here.” One of them said, looking you up and down as if you were nothing.

If anything, you were quite shocked on how they just treated and continued to treat you. Normally, Harry would show a picture of you to these backstage security guards to make sure you’d be able to get in no problem, but it seemed like today Harry might’ve forgotten to show that photo. This was going to be a problem for you, because you’d forgotten to bring your backstage pass.

“I normally just go through? I’m Harry’s girlfriend.” You tried talking your way around the situation, not appreciating behind held up so close to show-time.

“Oh you’re Harry’s girlfriend? You must be the 7th one we’ve met tonight.” The security guy laughed and so did his friend, making your blood boil with how annoying they were being. Harry would be so pissed if he heard the way they were treating you.

“No but I actually am.”

“Then, ID and backstage passes.” One of then held out his hand whilst the other crossed his arms over his chest to make him look intimidating. Dickheads.

“I have ID just not the backstage passes.” You answered honestly, holding out your ID for them to check. They collected it and asked you questions on it, you answering them all perfectly.

“Well you definitely know you, but you have no proof you’re supposed to be where you claim to be.” They handed you back your ID and you huffed in stress.

“Well what can I show you? Photos of me and Harry together? Text messages?” You waved your arms around, getting really pissed off that this was actually happening. You’d probably miss Jenny’s whole set because of this and then 15 minutes before show-time Harry gets transported under the stage. So you only really would have half and hour with him, and that’s just not enough time. You wanted a safe and warm hug off him. You wanted a kiss. You just wanted him.

“Everyone knows they can be photoshopped.” One of the guys scoffs at your notion.

“Listen. You either show us your backstage pass or we’ll escort you off site.” The other one says a lot more firmer this time. It made you quite anxious for what you’d do if they did that - or maybe when they did that.

“Well I don’t have the backstage passes.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at the way this was going to end.

“Then let’s go.” One of them pointed to where you came from and to the car park, stepping forwards as he did so.

“I’m not leaving until you let me through those doors. My boyfriend is waiting for me.” You answered, taking a step back in stress of what they might do.

“Harry ain’t your boyfriend. Now let’s go!” They stepped forwards again and reached for you.

You swung your bag at one of them, hitting him in his side and he grunted because of the impact of your water bottle with his chest. The other one grabbed your arm and you couldn’t shake him, since you were not trained in any way for situations like this at all. His fingers dig into your skin and it made you scream out a cry, trying to kick him in any way to escape. The other one recovered ever ordered the guy holding you to escort you away whilst he stayed and guarded the door. The one holding you tugged your arms behind your body and held them tight there, it really fucking hurting. He didn’t care though and continued to walk you, asking you where your car was so he could get you out of here.

Once you reached your car he let you go and you wrapped your arms around you as he walked away again, not verbally saying anything but his eyes saying enough. Stay away. You shakily got your keys out of your bags and unlocked your door, climbing in and just sitting there. You could feel your hands really shaky and achy. Looking down with tear clouded eyes, you saw the red marks over your arms and slight bruising already. Your arms and shoulders hurt from being bent in an uncomfortable position.

You cared less about the pain though and how much of a disappointment of a girlfriend you were going to be to Harry. He was going to think either the worst for you or the worst of you. You reached in your bag on your lap for your phone, throwing your bag on the seat next to you afterwards. You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your t-shirt and unlocked your phone to text messages, sending Harry a quick text.

To Harry: Are you free to call? x

No response. You sat there for a few minutes in silence, still shook up and teary. That had been a really awful situation to be in and you hated that you were nowhere near Harry to fix it. Your phone vibrated 3 minutes later, finding a text message from Harry. You sighed and felt safe when you saw his icon light up your notifications, knowing he was in contact with you.

From Harry: Of course, you okay? xx

You didn’t open your phone because you didn’t know how to respond. How do you tell him you’re not okay, only 20 minutes before he’s meant to be ready to go on stage? You didn’t want to worry him, but you also didn’t want him thinking you were a terrible girlfriend either.

Another vibration.

From Harry: Lovie? xx

Your eyes watered at that simple word, meaning so much more to you than five letters. It made you feel so much comfort, you only wished you could get that hug and a kiss now.

Again.

From Harry: Love, you’re worrying me now.

From Harry: Let me face-time you, hang on.

His icon lit up the screen; Incoming…

You shakily accepted, wiping your eyes quickly before. When he answered you could tell he was still in his dressing room, sat on the sofa that you wish you were also sat on with him. He looked so beautiful. His hair was perfectly styled and he was wearing a pearl coloured silk shirt and you knew he was wearing white silk pants to co-ordinate. You thought he looked ethereal. A glowing beacon of hope and beauty.

He didn’t say anything to you at first and you nothing to him. He just looked at you and instantly knew something bad was up. He kept eye contact with you and it was as if he was having a telepathic conversation with you, understanding that you needed him and just him.

“Hey, Mitch man?” Harry asked, turning his head to somewhere else in the room. “Could y’just give me a minute. Please.”

“Sure, sure.” Mitch answered and all you could hear was the sound of shuffling and the door shut. As soon as he was gone you started crying all over again. You cupped your hand over your eyes and your body shook as you just cried. Harrys heart broke that you were alone and he couldn’t hug you close to his chest.

“Y/N, baby. Look at me.” He asked urgently and you just shook your head, embarrassed that this was happening to you. “You’ll be alright lovie, I promise. Just look at me, beautiful.” You moved your hand away from your face and wiped your eyes and nose to try and make you look slightly better - not that it helped. “There’s my pretty girl.”

You smiled. He smiled.

“I-i’m so-rry H.” You whispered, sniffling in between words because of how shaky you felt.

“Hey, no. None of that. It’ll be okay.” He reassured you, keeping eye contact with you to try and decipher what was wrong. “Where are you, lovie? You’re in the car, yeah?” Harry asked, recognising your surroundings but you could get anywhere. You could have been in an accident for all he knew, but he was remaining calm so he didn’t send you into a panic.

“Yeah. In the stadium car park.” You saw Harrys eyes momentarily light up at that, before he remembered that you weren’t okay.

“Okay. Tell me why you’re upset, love. Help me understand.” He sounded urgent, just wanting to know so he could help you out. He wanted you to be okay. He wanted you with him.

“The security guards wouldn’t let me in, backstage I mean. I didn’t have my backstage pass. But..” You choked on a sob and Harry told you to just breathe. You were okay. “One of them g-grabbed me and escorted m-me of sight.”

“Baby, are you hurt? Is that why you’re upset?” Harry asked, standing up now in panic. His face looked angry, but you could tell he was trying his best to be a comfort for you. “Y/N?”

“Y-yes. Yes Harry, yes.” You voice wobbled out and you let out an exasperated sob. “I’m s-sor—”

“No don’t you dare. Don’t apologise for this. Not ever. You understand me?” He made very clear he wasn’t messing around.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Alright. Now, you gotta be strong for me okay?” He asked, before asking, still checking that you were okay. He knew you would be though, because you were his bravest girl ever - stronger than you knew.

“Okay.”

“You’re going to make your way back to the backstage entrance, alright? I am going to be there, before you get there. Those security guards won’t be there I promise. You’ll be okay. Can you do that for me?” He asked, moving around the room and then out of the door. He was walking down the corridors, ignoring the people shouting his name. He was only focused on you.

“Yes. Okay.” You nodded, wiping under your nose again.

“I love you.” He kissed the camera of his phone, looking like he was kissing you instead.

You returned the gesture, kissing him virtually back. “I love you.”

He told you that it’d be alright and then ended the call, explaining how you didn’t need to hear him get angry when he found these security guards. They would be fired even if they weren’t on his tour crew, he’d make sure of it. You made your way back to the backstage entrance again, slowing down before you rounded the corner. Taking a deep breathe you walked around and were met with exactly what Harry promised; him.

You smiled and broke out into a run to get to him, your bag weighing on your shoulder. Once you reached him your bag was thrown on the floor in front of him and you jumped into his arms. He lifted you up to sit you around his waist, keeping his arms tight around your waist and squeezing the biggest hug out of you. Your arms tightened around your boyfriends neck and you buried your face into his neck, and god he smelt like everything homely and sweet. He felt just like home.

“See, you’re alright now lovie.” He assured you, kissing your cheek that wasn’t quite buried into his neck.

“Th-ank you.” You muttered, kissing his neck in appreciation which made him hum in delight. He tasted so hot and lush. He was insatiable. You then felt him start kissing your arms, where the harsh red and purple marks were.

“Sorry y’had to go through this.” He kept kissing your arms, until you moved your head up and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“If I can’t say sorry, then neither can you.” You shook your head, kissing his nose softly. You watched his eyes flutter close and felt so special that only you could do that to him.

“You’re so amazing Y/N. Truly.”

“You’re pretty special too, my love.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else from you, those words were enough, so he pressed his lips to yours softly, filling you with the love you’d been waiting to feel all day. You smiled into the kiss and he just felt so amazing. He was so soft and gentle with you - as smooth as the silk that dressed his body. He was so pretty to watch melt away under your spell and delicious tasting. Strawberries, was that?

He was everywhere. He was everything. He always would be.

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biggest-stupidhead · 4 years

Note

more modern au levi x reader!! is it okay where reader makes petra jealous???

Just a reminder: WE DO NOT CONDONE PETRA SLANDER IN THIS HOUSE!!!

with that said, I will write this heavily focused on Petra to make it a lil angsty, hope you enjoy!

Summary: Petra watches her ex fall for another

Word Count: 1.7K

It had been two long years since Petra and Levi ended things. It wasn’t messy but it was painful, she had seen it coming from a mile away. He had grown just as distant as he had been when they first met. Staying late at work, texting her dryly, and using terrible excuses. Although she had known it was coming, she still was a wreck when he actually ended things. She spent the months following the break up drinking wine and crashing at Oluo’s place regularly. After two years she was finally feeling better, dare she say, ready to get back into the dating scene? Or at least that’s what she thought, she was scrolling through her instagram feed when she stumbled across Hange’s page. It was someone’s birthday, someone she wasn’t familiar with.

A woman with bight eyes and an even brighter smile was in the center of the group photo. On her right was Levi, who had an arm thrown casually over her shoulder, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. Petra pinched the screen to zoom into Levi’s side, where she saw a feminine hand on his waist. She stared stupidly at the image. She shouldn’t feel jealous, she had no right. It had been two long years since the break up. But the picture only dredged up old memories of times when she would hold Levi that same way. When that smile was directed to her. She then turned her attention to the caption, which read:

Happy Birthday (Y/n)! 24 never looked so good!

She then scrolled through the comments, many of them consisted of birthday wishes and support. She lost interest when she didn’t see Levi’s username and instead went back to the collection of photos, three of them in all. The group one that she assumed had just been taken, the second one was a picture of Hange and you on the beach, Petra felt a involuntary wave of self consciousness wash over her at the site of you in a swim suite. The final picture was the one that hurt the most though, it seemed to be a very old picture of you, maybe from your early years in college? You were sitting on a couch with younger versions of Hange, Erwin, Levi, and Moblit. Levi’s arm was casually thrown over your shoulders. Why had he never mentioned you before? Were you the reason that they broke up? No Levi had assured her that it wasn’t like that, said he wasn’t seeing anyone else. She tried to stop herself from going down that rabbit hole, but she couldn’t seem to. Before she really knew what she was doing, she had clicked on your profile which she was almost disappointed to find as public. This meant that there was nothing stopping her from judging every perfect image that was posted, and to her pleasant surprise, there was only one photo of you and Levi. The photo was posted the week prior, the two of you were hiking in the mountains, the dusty trial behind you. Your face was flushed from the exertion of the climb, Levi seemed cool as a cucumber, his face blank and void of emotion. She scrolled through the post and found a video, the sound of your shoes crunching and Levi talking behind you were clear as day.

“I mean come on, who uses fucking Lipton? Have some god damn class.” Levi spat, as you snorted in amusement. Petra found herself chuckling along with you at Levi’s little rant. She felt a rogue tear slide down her cheek when you showed the phone to Levi, who’s face fell from being mildly animated to apathetic once more. You cackled as he swiped the phone and the video ended abruptly. It was so innocent, it was clear from the rest of your page that you were a private person, much like Levi. With little indication that you were dating him, it left her wanting to know more. More about the girl that had taken her place, had managed to worm her way into Levi’s heart of stone and make herself comfortable. As soon as these thoughts crowded into her head, she deleted instagram all together and powered her phone down, determined to wipe her memory of the images she had seen.

The music was a nice distraction from the awkwardness that hung in the air. You had arrived uncharacteristically early to Hange’s party, and consequently meeting a whole group of people that you had never met before. The new people were about your age, three young men and one stunning young woman. It was early fall and Hange’s annual bonfire bash as you all had dubbed the event. Basically you lit a massive fire, when you were younger it was your past assignments from your pervious school year, then it became just regular old wood. You tapped your finger against the cool beer bottle as you leaned up against the counter, the men were laughing obnoxiously as they dropped the alcohol that they’d brought into one of the many coolers. The woman was looking at you almost nervously, she seemed extremely on edge, shifting her weight back and forth, eyes wandering around the room in a jittery manner. You frowned, wondering what was bothering her, but ultimately deciding that it was not really your business. Erwin shimmied behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he slide past you into the kitchen. You caught his arm, clinging to his familiar presence.

“Erwin.” you hissed as he stooped to reach your level.

“Who are these people?” you asked as you held his bicep firmly in your grasp. He pulled away and looked at you with a confused expression.

“You mean Levi didn’t tell you?” He said slowly, clearly he was unsure if it was his place to speak on the relationship between Levi and these people.

“No....” You said carefully, not wanting to make Erwin uncomfortable.

“Oh well they used to work in the same department before Levi switched.” He said, he looked over to the men and motioned for them to come over, they ambled over with curious expressions.

“What’s up Erwin?” the dark haired man asked as he looked between the two of you.

“Just thought I’d ought to introduce you to (Y/n) here, she’s an old friend of ours from high school.” Erwin explained, his hand still comfortingly placed on your mid back. You waved shyly and smiled at all of them, including the girl.

“Pleasure to meet you.” The blonde with a ponytail said, outstretching his hand to shake yours.

“I’m Eld, this is Gunther, Oluo, and that fine young lady over there is Petra.” He said, pointing at all of them respectively.

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” you said sweetly as you struck up a conversation with Oluo about what they thought about the department that they worked in. It didn’t go unnoticed that Petra remained nearly silent, her amber eyes wide and a bit fearful. When the interns arrived, the men were quick to go help them carry in the alcohol that they brought, leaving you and Petra alone in the kitchen. You cocked your head at her as you poured some pretzels into a large bowl. The warm glow of the setting sun cast a halo over her head and you couldn’t help but voice your admiration for her.

“You’re really pretty.” you gushed as she blushed at your words and turned to look at you with wide eyes.

“So are you...” She returned the compliment and you smiled, feeling more at ease now that the two of you were alone.

“So how long have you known Hange?” You asked conversationally as you crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the trash.

“Hm let’s see...about four years now?” She responded with a bit of a wistful tone.

“Really? I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner!” you chuckled as the two of you opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two large glasses. The two of you strolled out into the bark yard, where Hange and Moblit were chucking large pallets of wood onto the fire pit. You and Petra sat down in two lawn chairs watching as Hange and Moblit bickered over if it was safe enough to light the fire with gasoline.

“I am too, you seem....like a really nice girl.” Petra said a bit downcast as she looked deeply into her wine.

“So do you! We should grab breakfast ooo or maybe even brunch sometime!” You said excitedly and Petra sat there in awe, wondering if there was even a mean bone in your body. Or if you had any clue that she had dated Levi.

“Yeah...this is kind of random but...are you dating Levi?” She blurted out, her face turning to look at you with a flushed expression. You nodded nonchalantly and took another sip of your wine.

“Yeah we just started dating about a year ago.” You said with a shrug, Petra inhaled, readying herself for the next words that would either make or break the future relationship between the two of you.

“Did...you know we dated?” she said, cringing when the words left her mouth. She sounded crazy and she knew it, but she felt obligated to clear the air between you before it got bad.

“Hm I think he mentioned it once or twice, and Hange told me about you when you first started dating.” You said looking up thoughtfully, your tone held no malice or any sign of ill will.

“You’re not...”

“Insecure? Nah, and don’t take that like I’m being cocky! I just mean that...”

“No, no let’s just not do this. I’m sorry for bringing it up. God I’m such a bitch.” Petra went to stand and you followed her, catching her wrist.

“It’s alright really, I don’t care about what happened between you and Levi. It’s frankly none of my business, I just...wanna be friends with you.” you smiled at her sheepishly as she looked at you with wide eyes.

“Oh” She managed to say dumbly.

“That is if you want to be friends.” You said, letting go of her hand and giving her some space.

“Yeah...I think that I’d like that very much.” Petra said with a bright smile.

In honor of Women’s History month, I couldn’t bare to write something that was a stereotypical jealous ex, so I did the next best thing and wrote this more geared towards the reader and Petra bringing each other up instead of tearing one another down. As someone who was apart of the fandom back in like 2014 I am way too familiar with writers turning Petra into a psycho bitch, and I don’t like that. SO I hope that this is good enough to fit the prompt!

#levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman #jealous petra ral #modern au #erwin smith #hange zoe #moblit #aot fanfiction #aot fandom #light angst #fluff #women supporting women #no petra slander allowed #womens history month

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disasterfandoms · 3 years

Text

Meet My Dad || A Brock Reynolds x Carter!Reader Imagine

A/N: SO we were brainstomring in one of my discord groups about what would it be like if Full Metal had a daughter, and now it’s a thing where if i write this for @theysayitscrazy then @bravo-four-seal-team has to behave for a week. Also, this contains the ship Trent/Metal.

Join the Taglist!

TW: a tiny bit of smut (no nudity or graphic depictions), protective parent, murder threats

Taglist: @milfdeacon @bravo-four-seal-team @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @velvetcardiganbucky @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @mrsmarvelous1995 @madhare0512 @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @iris-oaklee-carter-911oc @kobababy @i-love-scott-mccall @pinkrockstar19 @supervalcsi @itsonautopilot @abby-splace @innerpaperexpertcloud @softi92 @thelovelyleo23 @jasonbabymama @peaches-1999

“Dad!” You yelled, walking into his house uninvited as usual. Did you really need an invite to the place you called home for the longest time, though? He wasn’t there, that was evident by his cat, Whiskers, still needing to be fed for the morning. You filled his bowl with kibble, petting the old boy who used to keep you company on dark and stormy nights.

You walk further into his kitchen, seeing the note on the counter that said that he’d be back later. You write a note back, telling him that you’ll be at your boyfriends, and to call you later. You pet the cat once more, before leaving the home, suddenly nervous at the thought of your dad knowing about you and Brock, and your plan for them to meet.

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

Full Metal came home a couple hours later, petting Whiskers and putting the groceries away. You and him had a weekly gumbo night, where you all eat and either watch a movie or play some games, getting your time with each other you two needed in in one night.

He’s been a single dad for over twenty years, your mom having left him and you when you were just three years old. He bared no hard feelings, his life and job was complicated and she never truly wanted to be a mom. So, he took time to figure out how to parent you while being home all the time, and figured who’d watch you when he was away. You two made it work, and now you’re closer than ever.

He found the note, noticing your handwriting right away, and visibly paled as he read its contents. A boyfriend? Who? and when? He could have sworn you would have told him before now about any boy you were seeing. He needed to take a breath, calm down. You were a grown adult, with an apartment of your own and a stable job, it wasn’t the end of the world that his baby had a boyfriend.

He took a second, making sure his hands stopped shaking before he picked up the phone, dialing the oh-so-familiar number.

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

You were straddling Brock’s lap, your tongues colliding as you moved in sync. His lips had then attached to your neck, causing you to moan. Your hands were tangled into his hair, causing him to groan when you pulled it accidentally. His hands travelled down your back, resting just before the opening of your jeans. One hand slid up your shirt, his hands feeling rough against your soft skin, you giggling as he flipped you over, so he was on top.

He opened your legs, putting his knee right next to your covered core, letting you grind against it as he continued his trail of kisses down your chest. He almost took his shirt off when you heard your phone ring, interrupting the fun that was about to come. You quickly grabbed it, groaning as it was your dad. Brock nodded in understanding, moving to lay beside you on the bed as you answered, “Hi Dad!”

“Y/N, you left a note. Boyfriend? Who the fuck are you dating? Why haven’t you told me about this guy beforehand?” Metal shot off at an impressive pace, not impressed that she told him this through a note, for fucks sake.

“I’m great! How are you, are we on for gumbo tonight? I brought him up because I thought about bringing him.” You said sarcastically, moving to snuggle up to Brock, who happily wrapped his arms around you, his leg intertwining with yours.

Metal was pacing in his living room now, rolling his eyes at the sarcasm he heard at the beginning of your response. “You want to bring him? To our tradition?” He asked, shocked you’d even consider it.

“Well, yeah, Dad, it’s just one gumbo night for you to meet him and get to know him outside of work. Besides, you bring Trent sometimes!” You retorted, huffing at the hypocrisy. You could hear Brock chuckling beside you, causing you to stick your tongue out at him.

“That’s different, it’s Trent!” He shot back, stopping his pacing as he was worried he was going to step on Whiskers. He then continued, “Trent’s being invited if you bring him. Wait,” he spoke, his mind registering what all you said thirty seconds ago, “Outside of work? HE WORKS AT DEVGRU?!?!?” He yelled, feeling his face getting hot with anger. One of those idiots is dating his kid?

You put the phone away from your ear, he’s always deafening when he’s angry. Brock kissed your shoulder, one of his hands moving up to grab your breast, massaging it gently, causing you to roll your eyes. “Yes, he works at DEVGRU. He’s on Bravo, with Trent. Invite him! You know I love T,” you say easily, your breath hitching as Brock continues to tease you.

Metal doesn’t even know what to reply to that. He’s full on having a meltdown. His kid, his sweet, caring, loving child is dating someone in Bravo. Oh, Oh god, They’re dating that cocky ass kid. “I gotta go, see you two tonight.” He said quickly, before hanging up without you getting a word in. He rubbed his face with his free hand, before calling Trent to come over.

“He hung up,” you said simply, putting the phone back down on the nightstand, before focusing on the man beside you. You adored him, not just physically, but the kind soul he has, and the willingness to do whatever was necessary to keep you safe and happy. You knew your Dad was a bit... much, but you hoped once he saw you two together, he would calm a bit. “Now, where were we..” you trailed off, giggling as he turned over onto you, starting where you both had left off.

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Trent was a little worried when Full Metal called him, panicking at the apparent fact that Clay was dating his kid. Trent had been around you since you were a little kid, becoming very close to Metal as they started working together at DEVGRU.

He was incredibly amused at the fact that Metal was having a meltdown while simultaneously starting the gumbo for the night. He wouldn’t interrupt the man, he’s just here to listen and watch his friend chop and cook everything the gumbo needed ingredient wise, while yelling at how Clay was too arrogant foe his own good.

“Of course Y/N would go out with him. Why go for one of us, anyways?” he asked rhetorically, chopping up the andouille sausage, probably imagining it was Clay’s.. well... you know.

“Because they were raised by you? And surrounded by a Naval influence their entire life?” Trent shot back, chuckling as Metal glared at him. Man, if looks could kill...

“Scott, take a breath. You raised Y/N well, they must see something in Clay to not only go out with them, but to want to introduce him to you,” Trent tried to reassure the man, who this time took a deeply breath and nodded.

“I just don’t want them to get hurt,” he spoke quietly, shaking his head at the thought. You were his child, his only one at that, he hated seeing you cry, especially over some dumb ass kid.

Trent nodded, standing up to go over to him, rubbing his back. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t need to. He’s helped Scott raise you since you were a kid, he felt similarly about keeping you safe.

They were silent for a while, before Trent felt like he needed to reassure Scott one more time. “Tonight will be fine, you’ll meet the boyfriend, be polite tonight and then tomorrow you can threaten all you want,” he offered up, and it worked, as he saw Scott smile for the first time today.

“Come tonight?” Metal asked, he didn’t want to have to deal with this alone. Plus, he could just have it on his head that this is just the team hanging out and you just so happened to be there.

Trent nodded, smiling at the offer. He knew Scott needed someone here with them to keep him calm, and he was secretly hoping he’d ask him to stay anyways, the guy makes a mean gumbo.

——————————

It was three hours later, and Brock was suddenly incredibly nervous. He knew Metal was going to kill him, especially because it was his only kid that we’re talking about. He was in love with them, though, so he guessed he’d make it work.

“It’s going to be fine, Dad’s just a big teddy bear,” you reassure him, watching him chuckle nervously. You smiled, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. Your boyfriend may be a man of few words, but it was no secret he was worried about your dad’s reaction.

The silence was comfortable as he drove you both towards your childhood home. He was quiet, taking in the site of the place where Metal raised you, squeezing your hand when he heard you take a shaky breath.

“Hey,” he said quietly, catching your attention as you were getting lost in your worries. “I love you, Y/N/N.”

You smile brightly, saying “I love you too,” before he pulls you in for a kiss, all and full of adoration. He breaks away for a few moments, kissing your nose in the process, causing you to giggle.

You lead him up the steps to the front door, noting that Trent’s bike was in it’s usual spot. You smiled a little, happy your dad’s boyfriend was here to enjoy the chaos. You whispered to Brock, “I told you my dad and Trent were together, right?”

Brock’s eyes widened, shaking his head. Oh, this was going to be fun, he thought, before taking a deep breath. You smile at him, before opening the door, going into your family home, which was warm and the smell of the spices in the gumbo. You picked up Whiskers, who was hanging out in the cat tree by the entryway, and said to Brock, “This is Mr. Whiskers, he used to keep me safe when it was storming and Dad was on a mission.”

Brock saw the way your eyes lit up with you saw the cat, and his heart melted a little bit. He pet the furry creature, personally he wasn’t a fan of cats but he couldn’t help but pet him.

You put him down, taking his hand as you guide him further into the home, yelling, “T, Dad! We’re here!” You give his hand a squeeze, bringing him to the living room.

Trent came out from the living room, smiling as he saw you with... Brock. “Hey kid,” he hugged you tightly, before finally breaking, laughing hysterically at the fact that it was Brock you were with.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Metal left the kitchen, hearing his boyfriend of five years laughing hysterically. He walks in, seeing Trent doubled over in laughter, looking at you, smiling. “Hey baby,” He spoke softly, opening his arms for a hug, looking at who she brought with her, completely expect Clay, and not... Brock?

“Brock? Dog boy? Seriously?” He asked, causing Brock to laugh a little bit.

You backed away from your Dad, going to your boyfriend, who immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You shot back, “Well, yeah? Who else would I have gone for, Sonny?”

Oh, yeah, that broke Metal.

He just stared at you two, trying to form words, but his brain was short-circuiting. Trent was in tears, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. “Didn’t.... see that...coming,” he finally got out, grabbing onto Metal’s shoulder yo hold him up.

“I thought you were dating Clay,” your dad said slowly, shaking his head at the fact you brought the weird one home... typical.

You look at him confused, “No... Brock and I have been together for almost a year,” you tell him gently, smiling as your feel Brock kiss your forehead. You leaned into him for comfort, worried about what your dad will say.

“I... alright,” he sighed, smiling as Trent kissed him on the cheek. Trent was proud of him being calm, and not threatening your boyfriend. In reality, he was planning Brock’s death a very violent way, and where to hide the body.

The night went smoothly, a little too smoothly, if you were honest. Everyone ate and had a good time, the night ending with each Carter cuddled up to their significant other, watching a horror movie.

Brock had went to start the truck after the movie was over, letting you to hug your dads. “Thank you,” you whispered, smiling at Metal.

“what for?” he chuckled, letting go so you could hug Trent.

“For being nice to him, and not threatening to kill him,” you chcuckled as you hugged Trent, who went back to having his arms wrapped around Metal when you let go. Metal nodded, as you said goodbye, not knowing his plans for in the morning.

“You did good, babe,” Trent mumbled, kissing his cheek before making sure the food was away, getting ready to go to bed.

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

All was quiet on the base the next morning, the hustle and bustle of the military operation at it’s usual pace. All of Bravo trickled in one by one, no one understanding the scene in front of them as they entered the cage room.

In front of Brock’s locker, there was a hatchet, a bag of lye, and a shovel; along with a note which was written in, what looked like, blood.

“Brock,

You hurt my kid, these tools will be used in removing you from the situation. The hatchet will be used to cut you up into bite-sized pieces for Cerberus to enjoy. What is left of you will be dissolved by the lye, and you will be buried where no one can find the evidence.

They’re my child, I will do whatever it takes to make sure they are happy and safe.

I’m watching you.”

Bravo watched Brock visibly pale as he read the note, causing Trent to smile, shaking his head at his boyfriend’s antics. He should have known last night was too calm, that Metal was being polite because Y/N didn’t want their father to be overprotective.

Oh well, at least Brock understood now the consequences if he fucked up.

#brock reynolds x reader #brock reynolds x carter!reader #scott full metal carter #seal team #seal team imagine #Trent Sawyer #Trent Sawyer x Scott full metal carter

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whythinktoomuch · 4 years

Text

i. apocalypse now & then

Kara touched down, her boots meeting the earth with a metallic clunk that was promptly swallowed up in the dust and utter grayness of her surroundings. The warnings came immediately—insistent beeps, bright red numbers and figures flashing before her eyes.

“How’s it looking?” asked the tinny voice in her helmet, and Kara sighed.

“Yeah, you were right. Place is infested,” she said, studying the mess of debris and desolation that seemed to feed directly into the faint horizon in every direction. “Kryptonite readings are off the charts. There’s either a tower nearby, or mines just planted all over. Maybe even both, if i’m Iucky.”

Alex let out a harsh breath. “Look, I know you’re not going to leave until you find those people, but you better watch your fucking back out there, okay?”

“Hm… don’t I always though?”

“You ask that every single time, and every single goddamn time, I have to re-mind you of all—”

“All right, all right…” Kara said, rolling her eyes. “Just stop worrying so loudly already, jeez. I’ll keep you posted the entire time.”

“Like that was ever an option.”

“Love you too,” Kara said breezily, and she began her search.

She explored the area in proportioned sections, slipping periodically into x-ray vision, keeping her feet drifting an inch off the ground at all times. You just never knew these days. By now, Kara had stepped on enough lead-wrapped kryptonite mines for one lifetime, which coincidentally had been the same number of times it took to gray almost the entirety of Alex’s head. Or so Alex claimed anyway.

Apparently, over two decades of this sort of living could do that to a person: make them older, but also, steal away every last bit of their sense of humor.

Whenever Kara happened upon a particularly extensive blind spot—jagged slabs of lead piled on top of each other—she took her time. Carefully sifted her way through all that rubble, with a spare bit of rebar or her heat vision from a safe distance. Calling out to any potential survivors that could have been trapped underneath. But as she steadily neared hour two of her search, it was starting to look like a lost cause. That whoever had sent that distress signal must have since succumbed to the environment, like so many others already had done before them.

Then Kara heard it.

Whipping her head around, Kara strained her ears to their very limit, all the while silently cursing how muffled everything sounded in this godforsaken suit of hers. It took a minute or so to hone in on it, but she finally made out the distant voice.

Help us. Save us. We’re down here.

Kara snapped into action, already hurtling full-speed toward the source of the cry. “Alex, I found them.”

“About fuckin’ time,” Alex said, but the note of relief carried through the speakers loud and clear. It always did, of course, given the scarcity of such a feeling as of late. “All right, get them out of there, and hurry your ass up. You’ve already been out there for too long.”

The voice grew louder and more distinct as Kara approached it, and eventually, she could even distinguish other people in the mix—their whispers, the muted beats of their heart seemingly punctuating every word, and all the shallow breaths of air in between. She counted at least five separate individuals, five more lives that she could potentially save from this impossible landscape.

But by the time Kara reached the point where the voice was sounding from below rather than from the distance, her excitement had all but waned, receded back into the ever present anxiety hanging in the air.

“… Fuck,” she huffed out, staring at the large swathe of broken rock and dirt and twisted metal beneath her, the letter K spray-painted all over the surface in a faded green. “Alex. They’re in a mine-rigged shelter.”

“Forget it then. Just get out of there,” Alex said, all rather predictably. “We can send an extraction team with defusers in the morning.”

“But that’ll take too long,” Kara protested. “It would take days, just for a task force to cover all that distance, and these people need help now.”

“No. I want you to put down a marker and come right the fuck back home,” Alex said. “That’s your last kryptonite filtration suit! If anything happens, if you sustain even the slightest bit of damage out there, you could—”

Kara cut the feed and swiftly locked her comms from all available channels, employing one of the few tips Winn had passed onto her before he died. Because Alex didn’t understand. How could she, when she wasn’t the one who had to listen to these desperate cries for help from people just barely out of reach.

She floated outside the presumed blast radius, planted her feet firmly to the ground, and went to work. Uncovering the buried shelter bit by bit, one sizable mass of charred rubble dug up after the other. It wasn’t easy. The kryptonite in the area, though not exposed, was much too close for comfort even through her suit. And it made the sun hotter, everything heavier, and Kara’s progress as slow as it could possibly be.

But all that—the sweat gathering on her brow, the soreness burning up her lower back—was a very small price to pay when weighed against the lives of at least five people in need. So, Kara kept going. She kept burrowing deeper into the earth with her bare hands, until the sun was but a small twinkle above her head and her fingertips were brushing against a patch of warmed metal.

And she could hear them better now. They were so close.

Kara pressed her palm against what had to be the outer wall of their shelter. “Hey, can you hear me in there?”

“Please help us!” came the frantic response, only somewhat muffled now. “Please get us out! We can’t breathe in here!”

“Okay! Okay… I’m gonna get you out, okay?” Kara shouted back, heart thumping hard in her ears. “Just… hang on.”

A quick once-over was all it took to determine that the wall before her—like most other surfaces nowadays—was naught but a few inches of commercial steel, coated in a thin layer of lead. And as such, all it would to take, of course, to break into such a structure was—THUNK!—a single punch from the Girl of Steel herself.

Kara ripped a hole in the wall, using her heat vision to melt down the edges as she tugged the entire thing apart. Eventually satisfied with her efforts, she was just about to crawl through her rather crude but functional doorway when the speakers in her helmet abruptly flipped back on.

“—him back to life, and just… throttle him for showing you that trick!” Alex was practically hollering in her ear. “Why would you ever need to do that anyway? The whole frickin’ point of the—”

“Whoa, Alex, Alex, it’s fine! I’m fine! Just shh!” Kara hastily cut her off. “I’ve pretty much got my foot in the door already, okay? So, I’m helping these people whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, you fucking better,” Alex said with a scoff. “I want to look these people in the eye while you explain to me what was so goddamn special about them that you had to…”

And Kara barked out a laugh, shaking her head in wonder as Alex continued to chew her out in a way that only sisters could, apparently. “Hey, you can do whatever you want, okay? Just let me bring them home first.”

“Fine. Just don’t kill the comms this time.”

“Oh, I would never.”

“Kara, I fucking swear to—”

But the rest of all that swearing quickly faded into the backdrop, as Kara finally poked her head into what should have been just another underground refuge from everything their world now had to offer. Because ten feet below from where she had burrowed her way in, was not a handful of dehydrated people waiting to be rescued—only masses upon masses of thick coils and plates of smooth black metal shifting about.

That’s when Kara realized that it’d been quite some time since she’d heard a cry for help. And soon after that was when a muted click! sounded, then somewhere down there in the midst of all that darkness and mechanical movement, came another loop of voices calling out to her.

“Oh shit…” Kara whispered, and at least ten sets of glassy eyes flicked up to stare at her. The pre-recorded voices immediately cut out, and the entire room lit up in a vibrant green as the machines all powered up with a collective hum. “Shit, shit, shit, you were right!”

“Right about what?” Alex demanded, but Kara was too busy heeding her long overdue advice of getting the fuck out there to respond.

Kara burst from the ground in a flurry of dust and clattering scrap metal, already heading for the horizon at full-speed. She needed to put as much distance as possible between her and the decoy shelter. It was nothing short of an honest-to-Rao miracle that her sudden escape hadn’t tripped any of the mines on-site, but now, it was only a matter of time.

Still hurtling away, Kara threw a glance over her shoulder just in time to see the first three drones break through the surface, already mindlessly chasing after her. Then the third and the fourth crashed right on through after them, which abruptly led to a series of rapid beeping, which abruptly led to a violent disturbance in the air that stole away all the sound from the world and knocked Kara right out of the sky.

(next part here)

#sometimes it takes me 2 years to write one sentence #other times i bang out 3k words in one sitting #so here's the first half. the second half will be pt. ii... and will there be a third part? who's to say #my words.

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rainy-day-coffee · 3 years

Note

hi... how about head cannons about the dorm leaders with a magical girl mc from either the puella magi magica madoka, magical girl site, magical girl raising project or princess tutu universe please?

I'll be doing Magical Girl Raising Project for this one! I’ll be using the abilities found in the anime since I’m not creative enough to think of any myself. The personalities of the characters themselves have nothing to do with the abilities I chose, they’re their own person! This is written as platonic! I hope this is alright!

As an extra note, this was a really interesting topic to write about. I enjoyed it! I actually just binge watched this anime for this request! It was quite good, I might pick up the light novels!

Warning: Mild mentions of gore; spoilers for Magical Girl Raising Project(?)

Dorm leaders reacting to a Magical Girl Mc

A new game has been released! Customize your own Magical Girl and work hard to defeat monsters!

Granted a 1-in-10,000 chance to be a real-life Magical Girl, the unfortunate souls who agree to the contract are unknowingly pulled into a world of bloodshed. All Magical Girls are expected to collect Magical candies through acts of helpfulness. Whomever is at the bottom of the ranking list by the end of the week is greeted by death. That is, if they can even make it that far.

Magic: Swimming through objects as if they were water - the objects do not affect the user as they pass through them.

He’s never heard of an ability quite like yours! It isn’t teleportation--it’s literally going through objects, ignoring any kind of barrier. It sounds impossible. Understandably, he doesn’t believe you until you show him.

Please refrain from popping out of random places in an attempt to scare him. He doesn’t want to be on edge everyday, the stress he has now is more than enough.

He’s curious about the whole situation. Just how and why did these “people” wrap you (and others) into such a terrible contract? How is it possible to grant these special abilities onto otherwise magicless people? Unfortunately, you most likely don’t have answers for those questions.

Sadly, Riddle doesn’t know of a way to help you out of this. The library may have some information, but the chances are slim nonetheless. He can offer assistance in candy collecting instead!

Something always seems to be going on at his dorm, it would help him greatly if you were to keep an eye on everything and everyone. He knows it isn’t much, but every little bit counts. You have his full support.

Magic: Entering the dreams of others - the ability to pass through the Dream World, granting access to the dreams of those who are currently sleeping.

He’s extremely annoyed. He doesn’t understand what’s happening. He’s only seen you a couple times before, so why do you seem to plague all of his dreams?

In his dreams, you move so vividly and in-character, it baffles him. Dream versions of people can be accurate, but never to such an extent each time. He’ll confront you about it soon enough. He has no evidence of what you’re doing, however vivid memories of dream-you push him to demand answers anyways.

Highly uncomfortable to know his dreams, his usual safe place, can be invaded by a person. He demands that you stop. You can go bother someone else, he doesn’t need that kind of help. If he sees you in there one more time, he may have to resort to other methods to get you to stop.

In regards to earning candies, unless you ask him specifically for help, there isn’t much he can do. You can always help Ruggie out with chores around Savanaclaw and you’ll be set. It’s a good deal for both sides, you can earn some candies and Leona can finally sleep comfortably again.

He finds the system you’re stuck in deplorable. Unfortunately, he can’t get you out of it, but if you ever need extra help he can always have Ruggie find one or two ways to get you those extra candies you need.

Magic: Hearing the thoughts of those in need - with enough training, the user can pinpoint the location of a person. Additionally, they can hear thoughts apart from cries for help.

Your special magic interests him greatly. He already has a good pool of information of all the students, but being able to hear their most inner thoughts is something truly amazing. No amount of research could easily give him those kinds of details.

He has the twins watch over you for a bit, gathering as much information as they can about your situation and what you go about doing.

Given the circumstances, he doubts he can rob this ability of yours through a contract. This does however present an amazing opportunity.

This could blossom into a wonderful partnership. You need to collect candies, and he’s always willing to accept requests from those “poor” souls who need help. By helping him, you can meet your quota! The rules never did mention what kind of help you were limited to offer after all.

He pities you, nothing can be done about your situation at the moment. You can rest assured though, you’ll never be at the bottom of the leaderboard with him around!

When time allows it, Floyd and Jade will be busy poking their noses where they don’t belong. The mascot that appears when you’re around seems to come from that phone you use. If they can see it, then that means these beings have made a mistake somehow. Is it possible to find a way to free you from this through that?

Magic: Transforming into any biologically living being - the size and shape of the creature do not matter, anything is fair game.

When he first discovers your special magic, he’ll be amazed! Transformation magic isn’t exactly easy, so being able to turn into whatever creature you want sounds like a lot of fun!

He’ll be begging you to turn into a wide variety of animals. Can you please turn into a tiger? How about an elephant? Maybe an alpaca? This could go on for hours if you don’t stop him.

Upon learning the darker side of the Magical Girl world, he starts to cry. He knows the world isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but this is too cruel. You didn’t know you would suffer this way. They should have at least given you all the information beforehand. Better yet, they shouldn’t be doing something so awful in the first place.

Because he finds it hard to keep secrets from Jamil, he ends up telling him about you. He then needs to convince Jamil that you aren’t trying to get him killed.

He goes around asking if people need help. He wants to do everything he can to ensure you survive. Money can’t get you out of this game, he’s tried to use it but that mascot that follows you around always refuses it.

Kalim doesn’t want you to die. Just thinking about it makes his head spin and worry bubble. It wouldn’t be his fault if you died in the first place, but the guilt would consume him entirely.

Magic: Freely manipulating sound - the user can generate sound from anywhere and even recreate the voices of others. As an added result of this ability, the user has enhanced hearing.

Vil won’t forgive you if you decide to mimic Epel’s voice so he can escape. He may be evading his lessons for now, but Vil will find a way to drill them into him later on.

He never would have thought such a thing was possible. This terrible fate you’ve had forced onto you makes no sense. The beautiful power you’ve been given is nothing compared to the price. He doesn’t blame you, he blames whatever is doing this.

If such a game exists in the world of Twisted Wonderland, he’ll use his influence to dissuade people from playing. Vil will do this behind the scenes of course, his public image has to remain intact.

He actively requests your assistance. For example, helping his dorm improve their instrument playing--your impressive hearing can detect small mistakes they need to work on. Apart from this, he regrettably can’t offer more help.

Hone your abilities and work with what you have. He knows you can prevail. Please take care of yourself as you move forward.

Magic: Receiving one futuristic tool a day - the ability to randomly pick one useful tool out of 444,444,444. The tool breaks down and is no longer of use after a day passes.

He’s in awe. A real life Magical Girl! To think they could really exist outside of anime! Just what kind of world did you come from? Forget living in a world where magic is common, Magical Girls are on a different level entirely! Curiosity gnaws at him, but given how shy he is he won’t approach you with questions himself. Ortho is more than happy to ask any questions for him in his place though!

Once he finds out you’re one of those Magical Girls, he feels a tad sympathetic. You really got the short end of the stick in life didn’t you? He knew the possibility was there, that trope is not uncommon, but a small piece of him wished it wasn’t the case.

He supposes your special magic can be compared to gacha luck. You never really know what you’re going to get. Unfortunately, in your case you can’t even calculate rates for good rolls.

If you’re willing to let him, he’ll happily take apart the tools and gadgets you get from your daily pull. One of those future items should help him create even better machines than he can now! And even they can’t, disassembling and reassembling objects he’s never seen is a thrill in and of itself

If you happen to hear a small tip from Ortho or someone else about an issue occurring around campus, it may or may not have been Idia. He has eyes all around the school, spotting problems is quite easy.

He’ll be rooting for you from the sidelines. You’re a protagonist in this story, he hopes you can make it through to the end.

Magic: Extreme regeneration - being able to recover from any wound so long as a portion of the user’s body is left.

Mortified when he finds your body all mangled and bruised after a rough “accident.” Malleus is ready to destroy whoever or whatever did this to you. He cares about you greatly, the very thought of seeing you in such a state makes his stomach churn and pure rage wash over him.

Once you explain your situation, he can grasp enough to understand the major gist of it. He doesn’t quite know what a “Magical Girl” is but obviously it isn’t something good. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in such a terrible situation.

To know that you can take care of yourself in the face of danger, makes him relieved. Although he doesn’t like the idea of you getting hurt at all, a healing ability is always wonderful to possess.

While you earn candies, Malleus will be working on a way to free you.

Even if these beings who granted you this ability are “all-powerful,” his magical capabilities are among the top in all the world. Perhaps, he can start by politely asking for answers from the leader of this group. If that seems to fail, killing off that mascot seems like a good place to start instead.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #twst headcanons #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader

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theyoutubedork · 3 years

Text

“I’m always gonna worry about you, I love you too much not too,”

Masterlist

The one where you get the vaccine, and boyfriend!Harry comforts you when you get really bad side effects.

Trigger warning: COVID times, pain, mentions of needles, and LOTS AND LOTS OF FLUFF

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

A/N: ok, so I haven’t written anything for tumblr in a while, I’ve been writing on wattpad a little, but I’m lacking inspiration on that front, so I’ve been flocking to Tumblr once again. Instead of finding inspiration for the story I’m writing on wattpad, I’m gonna just completely procrastinate and write something entirely new instead. Obviously my brain has the best ideas so here we are.

WARNING: (PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING)

this is based off of my personal experience with getting the jenssen (Johnson and Johnson) vaccine, which is what inspired me to write this story. I had a very tough go with the side effects of the vaccine. I’m fine now and I am not saying that you shouldn’t get this vaccine. Obviously this is a slightly dramatized version so that it is easier for you guys to understand. These side effects only lasted for a few hours within the first 24 hour period of getting this vaccine, which is very common and likely to happen. It just knocked me for a bit of a loop, that’s all. The amount of pain I experienced was something that I was willing to go through so I can get vaccinated. It is was very much worth it. Please get vaccinated, and please be safe.

——————————————————————————

As soon as you walk through the door, you see Harry’s head spring up from behind the couch. His hair is slightly messy, evidence of one of his random, mid-day naps. His eyes immediately soften, looking at your face, which is twisted from the small discomfort you felt in your arm. You had to go alone because the vaccination site had told you so, and you didn’t want Harry to wait for you in the heat for god knows how long. Harry immediately gets up and gives you a tight embrace as soon as you put your belongings onto the kitchen counter. He lets out a quick sigh of content, being a bit more touch-starved lately, which he doesn’t really know the reason for. He finally brings his head from the crook of your neck, and melts at the sight of your adorable puppy-eyed stare.

“How did it go? I was so worried about you love, wish I could’ve been there to hold your hand,” he coos. His hand pets your head, trying to soothe you from any remaining nervousness, which admittedly, you still were. He knew that you severely disliked needles, especially when getting shots. Doesn’t matter whether it’s a flu shot or blood work, you always had to have your head turned away. Thankfully you aren’t nearly as bad as you used to be. When your were younger, you would scream and cry. There was even one time when you were super young, that an extra nurse had to hold you down like a stereotypical psycho-medical horror film. Screaming bloody murder just for protection against measles. Eventually you grew out of that phase, only having to have your mother rub her hand on your back to try and distract you.

Your mother did that a lot actually. Whenever you were upset, she would always give some sort of physical contact to remind you that she was there. Her most common ways of this type of affection was either rubbing your back or circling her thumb on the back of your palm. However, if you would get hysterical, she would even put her hand on your head and scratch your scalp or even run her finger along the bridge of your nose. She learned this from one of you day-care teachers, who used this tactic to make you finally fall sleep during nap time. Upon reflection, it definitely could seem strange to others, but for some reason your mother always calmed you down with these methods, even when you became an adult. Obviously she doesn’t do this nearly as often, given that you can control your emotions better than you could when you were a kid, and the fact you didn’t live with her anymore.

You are pulled out of your thoughts when Harry wraps his arm around your side to bring you closer. You immediately wince as his arm wrapped around your left arm, squeezing it tightly, making the arm already more sore.

“Harry, my arm,” you mutter, and he quickly lets go, scanning over your features quickly to make sure you weren’t in pain. After you give him a goofy smile, he chuckles and gives you a small peck on the lips.

“Sorry love, didn’t mean to hurt you.” He murmurs, pinching your cheek before grabbing your hand.

“Well now that you’re home, we can finally start that show you wanted to watch. I already went to the store and got you some stuff, just in case you get any side effects.” He rambles excitedly, plopping onto the couch before dragging you down towards him, your limbs already entangled with his. He adjusts slowly, making sure your left arm isn’t pressing up against anything too harshly. He pulls a blanket hanging on the backside of the couch over the two of you. You don’t let this distract you from giving him a narrow-eyed look due to his last statement. He sighs, noticing this,

“I know-“ he starts but you interrupt him,

“It’s very sweet that you went out and got stuff for me, but you know I don’t like if when you go out by yourself.” You say, tracing your fingers over his anchor tattoo as you continue, “But, you are an independent young man, who can do whatever he wants, so just text me before you go out and do that stuff ok? Don’t want anything bad happening to you,” you say softly, looking up at him with a worried look. He lets out a small “aww” as he grabs your hand, bringing it up to his lips, peppering small kisses on your knuckles before he looks at you with loving eyes.

“I know, you’re right, but you don’t have to worry about me love,” he says, wrapping his hand lightly around your neck, pulling your head closer so he could give you a small kiss on the forehead. You rest your head on his chest, facing towards the tv. You pick up the remote off the coffee table, turning on the TV to start scrolling though Netflix.

“I’m always gonna worry about you, I love you too much not to,” you say somewhat absentmindedly, since this was something you say to Harry all the time. He constantly begged you not to worry about him, and you always say there is no possible way you could not worry about him. Not just because he’s your celebrity boyfriend, but because obviously you will always worry about the people you love. People may see that as a bad thing, but it just means that you always want the best for the people you care about, and that you wouldn’t let anything bad happen to them.

You feel Harry’s ring-less hand, (he must’ve taken them off when he went out so he wouldn’t face any more risk of recognition; people are way too observant for their own good) find it’s way into your hair, lightly sifting through it.

‘Harry’s hands are surprisingly soft for someone who plays instruments as often as he does,’ you thought.

Ever since he found out about your mom playing with your hair, and other types of physical affection whenever you got upset, which he found adorable by the way, he had started to do the same, except at any given moment, not just when you got upset. You didn’t comment on it, but you secretly revel in it. He always was touchy-feely, but this was much more personal and intimate, and the way he pays extra attention to you makes you feel like nothing in the world could hurt you.

“You still shouldn’t worry about me so much,” he says, knowing full well that he will never be able to stop you. He knows that you worry about him for the obvious reasons, and that you would honestly be a bad girlfriend if you didn’t. He is one of the most famous people in the world, at least according to famousbirthdays.com.

After a few minutes of silence you hear Harry speak again,

“You know you’re the best girlfriend in the world right?” Harry says cutely, curling a strand of your hair around his fingers.

You let out a small laugh. He asked you this all the time, as if he never asked you the question before. You always brush off this comment, and this time is no different.

“No I am not,” you scoff, selecting play on the screen, the Netflix logo filling the screen. You feel Harry tug on your hair enough so he could make you look at him. This action makes your face heat up like the surface of the sun, making you try to look away from him.

“Look at me, love,” he whispers and you reluctantly comply. You see him with a tight lipped smile that rested below the apples in his cheeks. His eyes were slightly closed from how much he was smiling.

“I mean it, I know I tell you all the time, but you really are the best girlfriend in the world, you’re always so worried about me, making sure I’m ok,” he firmly states, scooping your stray baby hairs out of your face, “you’re like my bodyguard,” he chuckles. You raise a teasing eyebrow and he begins to laugh a little harder at your expression.

“Hey! You are like, the cutest bodyguard I’ve ever had,” you let out a small giggle at this, making Harry smile even wider.

“Damn right, I’ll kick everybody’s ass just for you babe,” you chuckle, air-punching the air aimlessly. Harry laughs loudly at this, giving you a peck on the head.

“I know you will, lovie,”

Later on in the evening, Harry had finished making dinner, and you were sprawled out on the couch. You usually would be in the kitchen with him, but for some reason you just didn’t want to move. Harry didn’t pay any mind, knowing that the vaccine you got was a single shot, meaning it was going to be a more potent dose. This also meant that you would probably be experiencing more severe symptoms than he did when he had gotten his two shot vaccine. He wanted you to get the same one as him, but he knew that the place you were setting up your appointment only had the single shot doses, and that you didn’t want to have to go through two rounds of needles.

He was only away for 25 minutes, so when he rounded the corner to enter the living room, to say that he was concerned was an understatement. He saw you, sprawled on the couch, your face scrunched together in pain as you tried to get comfortable. Your chest was heaving up and down at a not so steady pace. He set the plates in his hands on the coffee table before crouching down to make his face level with yours.

“You ok lovie? Dinner’s ready,” he said in a hushed tone, placing his hand on your forehead to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. However, when his hand reached your forehead, he noticed that the hair was glued to it, your forehead slightly slick with sweat. You let out a small groan of pain as your response. He immediately placed the back of his palm against your skin, not caring about your sweat. Not a fever, but not too far from one.

“Baby why didn’t you change into something a bit lighter?”

“I was going to but then I just didn’t want to get up. Or...move.” You whined. Harry’s face softened when he saw your cute little pout that you do whenever you get lazy or tired. Or both.

“Okay well do you wanna have dinner then get changed, or get changed and then have dinner?” He says.

“I wanna move as little as possible, so let’s eat dinner and then I’ll change.”

“Ok lovie...now eat before it gets cold.”

You were barely able to keep yourself up by the time you finished eating, and Harry immediately sprung into action. He quickly cleaned up the kitchen and put everything somewhat away before he rushed back to you. He had to catch you slightly since you were trying to make it to the bedroom before he came back.

He gingerly helped you out of your clothes and tucked you into your bed. Quickly shedding his clothes, and slowly getting into bed, trying not to dip the bed drastically. You immediately curled into his arms after he turn out the lights, and you let out small groans every once and a while.

“It’s alright angel, you probably won’t sleep super well tonight but I’ll be right next to you if you need anything. Okay lovie?” He murmurs, bringing his left arm around your waist to slowly trace circles at the bottom of your spine, soothing you greatly. You let out a small hum of understanding before nuzzling into his chest more, letting out a small sigh.

“You know you’re the best boyfriend in the world right?”

#harry #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #Harry styles x reader fluff #fluff #one direction #styles

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padawanlost · 3 years

Note

Something I've noticed recently over the past few months is this trend where people have been diagnosing Anakin with narcissistic personality disorder instead of C-PTSD or BPD, the more commonly seen diagnoses. I personally disagree, but I wanted to hear your "two sense" on the matter if you will, you're one of the best meta-writers on this site.

It’s because people don’t like Anakin as presented on screen. They want Anakin to be as selfish and arrogant as possible so they can blame him from everything that happened. If it’s ALL about Anakin than everyone else can be left off the hook.

Anakin ‘I don’t want to be a problem’ Skywalker is clearly narcissistic. I mean, he fits all the signs:

Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

“Ten years in this place, and still he was an object of interest. Of speculation. All their hopes and dreams hanging on him like decorations on a bantha skeleton at Boonta Eve. He hated it.” [Clone Wars: Wild space, Karen Miller]

Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

“You would forgo your destiny for Padmé?” Anakin’s brows beetled in anger. “I never claimed to be the Chosen One. That was Qui-Gon. Even the Council doesn’t believe it anymore, so why should you?” [ James Luceno. Labyrinth of Evil]

Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

Anakin bumped his hand against [Obi-wan]. “Wait. Just—wait.” Embarrassed, he took a deep breath. “Look. Don’t take this the wrong way. It’s just—it’s the mission, right? That’s what matters. So—” “Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s whisper sounded amused. “It’s fine. I was about to suggest it myself when the droids turned up.” “You were?” “Play to your strengths and minimize your weaknesses. That’s how a battle is won. That’s how we’ll win the war.” Anakin had to smile. I should’ve known he wouldn’t take it personally. “Yeah. So—once I’m up and over and nobody raises the alarm, give me a five-count then follow. I’ll give you the best Force boost I can. Not that you’ll need much. Your leap was only a meter and a half behind Master Windu’s. Remember?” Obi-Wan gave a breathy chuckle. “I remember I had nosebleeds for a week afterward. Don’t ever feel bad for being extraordinary, Anakin. Now off you go. We don’t have all night.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Take advantage of others to get what they want

“He thought of how unflinchingly loyal Anakin was to anyone he considered a friend.” [Matthew Stover’s Revenge of the Sith]

Exaggerate achievements and talents

He was the Chosen One, they told him. He was supposed to bring balance to the Force. Anakin thought that some little extra support might go with being the Chosen One, a helping hand or at least some understanding from the Jedi Council, but instead he was passed around like an unwelcome burden, ending up with Qui-Gon Jinn and then Kenobi because nobody else would have him. His chosen status meant less than nothing; it felt more like a stigma. And they wondered why he was difficult at times. Maybe they didn’t want balance, whatever that was. Maybe nobody liked a Jedi who was that different. He felt like an embarrassment to them. I do everything you ask of me. I try so hard. When is it going to be enough? When are you going to say, “Okay, Anakin Skywalker, you’re good enough”? Karen Traviss’s The Clone Wars

Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate

Impatience. Concern. Relief. Loneliness. Weariness. And grief, not yet healed. Such a muddle of emotions. Such a weight on [Anakin]’s shoulders. Months of brutal battle had left [Ahsoka] drained and nearly numb, but it was worse for Anakin. He was a Jedi general with countless lives entrusted to his care, and every life damaged or lost he counted as a personal failure. For other people he found forgiveness; for himself there was none. For himself there was only anger at not meeting his own exacting standards. [Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people

It’s not just Skywalker’s rank that makes us give him one hundred percent. It’s because he treats us with respect, and he puts himself on the line with us.” [The Clone Wars by Karen Traviss]

Monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior

Having worked their way around the village, finding nothing to wake their uneasily sleeping sense of alarm, Obi-Wan and Anakin returned to the beaten-dirt square and the charter house. Its doors were open now and a woman who had to be Teeba Brandeh stood on the broad step, hands on her narrow hips, watching the children scatter across the square to play a proper game of kickball. Grinning, without bothering to ask if he might, or if it were wise, or if they had the time to spare, so independent these days, Anakin jogged to join them. After a moment’s amazed hesitation the children welcomed him with squeals of delight, rough-and-tumbled him into their midst and made him one of their own. Obi-Wan shook his head. “He’s nice,” said the girl with the bracelet and the ragged hair, wandering over to stand beside him. “Don’t be cross with him, Teeb Yavid.” Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

“Oh, no,” said Anakin, grinning. “It was fun too.” May the Force give me strength. “And that business with the boy? Because when I said no heavy lifting I—” Anakin’s amusement vanished. “He wasn’t heavy. These younglings are skin and bone. I look at them and—” He clenched his jaw. ”Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege

Expect special favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations

[Anakin] did not like the fact that he had won. It seemed wrong that he had stepped so far out of line, and yet had been retained as a Padawan. He did not like the unease this victory, if victory it was, produced in him. Above all weaknesses, arrogance was the most costly. They keep me here because I have potential they’ve never seen before. They keep me in training because they’re curious to see what I can do. I feel like a rich man who never knows whether his friends are true-or whether they just want his money. This was a particularly galling thought, and certainly neither true nor fair. Why do they put up with me, then? Why do I keep testing them? [Greg Bear’s Rogue Planet]

Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others

“I’m sorry. I’m not normally this stupid. I just—” And then she felt her face crumple and heard herself sob. Her knees buckled and she began to sink toward the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she choked. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine.�� [Anakin] caught her before she tumbled completely. Lifted her without effort and carried her to the sofa. Boneless and unprotesting, she let him. Let her face turn to his roughly shirted, dirty chest and howled her rage and shame against him. Dimly, she felt his hand warm and comforting on her back and heard his soft voice saying, over and over, “It’s all right. It’s all right. You’re safe now. It’s all right.” The crazy thing was that she did feel safe. For the first time since those Separatist blaster bolts seared the air and sand of Niriktavi Bay, since she saw her friends and colleagues slaughtered, she felt safe. Then, abruptly, she felt mortified. What was she doing? Weeping like a child all over a man young enough to be her son? Where was her pride? She shifted away from him, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.” “Don’t apologize,” he said gently. “You’ve got a right to be upset. Now, where’s that medkit?”Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth

Be envious of others and believe others envy them

The Jedi Council didn’t want me, either. Being the Chosen One didn’t count for anything. Master Yoda wouldn’t train me, or Windu. Every member of the Jedi Council had had something more pressing to do than help him work out what this terrible, galaxy-changing power of his meant, and how he should live in its shadow. He still wasn’t sure. Anakin recalled standing there in that grand, polished Jedi Council Chamber, surrounded by what felt like fear, and disdain, and bewilderment—who were those Masters to feel bewildered, that the only person there who cared if he lived or died was Master Qui-Gon Jinn. [Karen Traviss. The Clone Wars]

[Anakin] had worried that Obi-Wan did not have room for him in his heart. But Shmi’s smile rose in Anakin’s mind. Hearts have infinite room, my son. JUDE WATSON’S THE TRAIL OF THE JEDI

Behave in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious

The fear and dread in her face eased, just a little. “You’re a very sweet young man, Anakin Skywalker.” [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

[Anakin] humbles me, sometimes. He makes me feel small. He can’t see a broken thing without wanting to fix it. [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

“I don’t know,” she said, floundering. “I can’t say I’ve ever given the Jedi much thought. I mean, not as individuals. I never expected to meet one—let alone two. I don’t tend to go places where your skills are needed. But—well—you’re gentle.” [Karen Miller’s Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

Insist on having the best of everything — for instance, the best car or office

“I’m not giving him to you,” [Anakin]’d told her. “He’s not even really mine to give; when I built him, I was a slave, and everything I did belonged to Watto. Cliegg Lars bought him along with my mother; Owen gave him back to me, but I’m a Jedi. I have renounced possessions. I guess that means he’s free now. What I’m really doing is asking you to look after him for me.” “Look after him?” “Yes. Maybe even give him a job. He’s a little fussy,” he’d admitted, “and maybe I shouldn’t have given him quite so much self-consciousness—he’s a worrier—but he’s very smart, and he might be a real help to a big-time diplomat … like, say, a Senator from Naboo?”Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith

#ask #anon #sw meta #meta: anakin #meta: fandom #txt

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charming-2d-boys · 4 years

Note

yayy! the ask box is open!!! may I have a request on how the adultrio would do if they wanted to kiss their female crush so bad and lovingly, but their crush secretly likes them so they kissed them back😚? Thank you❤️

Ohoho, anon 😏

Here come the emotional ice cubes melting from a kiss (can you imagine that happening? ><)

Thank you for the cute request and I hope you’ll like it! 🙇

A/N: hope it’s cute enough, I really tried to make it fluffy. One of them is loosely based on a personal experience, he he 😏

Chrollo

whipped to hell and back

now Chrollo suddenly understands all those books and poems about love and romance he’s been reading

he thought they were beautiful, but probably a little exaggerated

how could a human being feel so strongly about another one?

well, turns out, they can

while the Troupe says nothing

not that Chrollo’s expression or mannerisms change much in front of them

when it comes to you, he seems… softer

like he can just breathe a little better, see the brighter side of things

those who have known him for long, like Pakunoda or Feitan, can sense the change almost instantly

Chrollo might try to act like he usually does, but even they can see that he seems a little bit distracted

plus, he spends just a bit more time on his phone than usual and sometimes smiles when he looks at the screen

he’s always amused by what you tell him

or when you send him a photo of something you saw

or thought he might like or that reminded you of him

the Spiders think it’s cute

crush or not, they know that Chrollo seems happier and it always makes them happier as well

he isn’t even sure if you like him back

you’re always friendly and affectionate with him

so he’s happy with what he can get, even if he’d want more

but he’s happy to be able to spend time with you

so when you’re both free, he invites you to hangout

he’d like to call it a date, but he’s not sure if he should tell you how he actually feels just yet

if only he knew that you were in the same situation…

you two always go to pretty interesting places and always have fun, no matter where you are

Chrollo is so happy when you’re enjoying the street food he’s bought for the both of you

you remind him of a little chipmunk

and he’s even amused when he takes a bit of the food from your cheek

which he hopes flusters you at least a little bit because it’s cute how you try to look anywhere but at him

it works, but it makes him chuckle, which you love hearing

so win-win situation

Chrollo insists on taking you home because he’s a gentleman and wants you to be safe

if there was something you’d noticed throughout your entire hangout it’s that Chrollo’s been glancing at your lips quite often

you’d checked your face subtly in the restroom and in reflective surfaces, but there was nothing

if you thought it was what it was, then you were ready

when you reach your door and turn around, Chrollo’s smiling softly

he’s still trying to steel himself to just do something and hoping it won’t make you resent him: confess, kiss you, hold your hand, hug you, anything

he’s been dreaming and imagining kissing you for so long

always replacing the characters in books with the two of you

and imagining all the romance and clichés in poems as he does them with you

Chrollo just feels like his heart won’t be able to go on for long if he doesn’t get to bring his thoughts to life

his eyes automatically go to your lips and you feel yourself smiling

you’re counting in your head until you will hug him

you wouldn’t want to kiss Chrollo and make him uncomfortable, after all

but before you’re done counting, Chrollo’s hands are on your cheeks, thumbs caressing the skin softly

and his lips are softer than you thought they might be

and whether he expects you to be surprised or not, you don’t really wait before kissing him back

well, Chrollo is actually the surprised one

he definitely didn’t expect you to react so well and so quickly

but he can’t complain

it only makes him pull you closer and deepen the kiss

it’s so easy to feel each other smile into the kiss

Hisoka

Hisoka has been “confessing” for quite some time

okay, I’m sorry, but it always makes you laugh

he just says it in such a teasing and eccentric way that it’s hard to believe him

well, that was Hisoka’s intention since the beginning

but over time, it just started becoming a little frustrating

he had thought about whether he actually liked you or not

Hisoka had taken some time away from you

it was because of something personal, but he also saw it as an experiment

during the first few days, when he was significantly busier, he barely had time to think of you, though you were still somewhere there, in the back of his mind

but you were always the last thought before sleeping and the first one when he was waking up

he’d sometimes send you some filtered selfies – his own way of reassuring you that he was okay

he honestly can’t wait to be done and come back to you

maybe he might even take you to some of the places he’s seen one day

…

Hisoka just realises that he might have a BIG tiny crush on you

the rest of the days he’s gone are spent reflecting and thinking about you

do you like him back?

do you even consider him a friend?

well, those questions will have to wait

as soon as he’s back and taken a shower, Hisoka insists on hanging out at your place

you’d insisted on having movie nights at least once a month

junk food, comfortable clothes, laziness and a nice and invigorating skin-care routine

the two of you pretty much just melt into the cushions after you’ve stuffed yourselves full

despite the invigorating face masks, you’re both pretty tired

not enough to fall asleep, but not enough to clean up the mess around you

you’re laying down on the couch, your head almost touching the side of Hisoka’s thigh while he sits upright, but a little bit slumped to the side, close to you

one of his hands is absentmindedly playing with the fingers on one of your hands

the movie playing for you isn’t the most interesting

well, your tiredness makes it even less interesting

Hisoka looks down at you and smiles a little when he notices that your eyes are closed

his hand squeezes your own before it leaves for your cheek

the touch of his fingers is almost feather-light

Hisoka’s pretty sure that you’re tired enough to answer his questions without really thinking through

(Y/N), are we friends? ♠️

Mm, ‘course we are…

And what would you say if I told you I like you? ♥️

Very funny, ‘Soka…

his expression sours a little at that

What if I’m serious this time? ♣

Sure you are… you always are…

Hisoka is actually a little annoyed

how dense could you be?

he would tease you and always make it seem like you had a crush on him

but he was actually serious for once – no smile, no teasing

too bad he didn’t realise that this was your plan ever since he’d started playing with your fingers

Then can I show you? ♦

Mhm…

he’s a little nervous, but he smirks nevertheless and licks his lips before kissing you

he probably expected you to either be shocked and hit him

or kiss him back sleepily

but you pretty much just kissed him back, a lot harder than he did

your hand cupping his cheek

his eyes were wide as he saw you open yours

and you let go of his lips, grinning mischievously

it barely lasted for a second before he was pulling you upright and in his arms, lips diving in back to yours as he smirked happily

you’d tease him about his so-called confession later

Illumi

someone help this poor guy already

yeah, so, Illumi had no idea that he even felt anything for you

for quite a while

he was a bit too dense when it came to how affectionate you were

some of your gestures were on purpose

pretty much just testing the waters

but Illumi thought that that’s how you treated everyone

so he didn’t see himself as anyone special in your life

cue face-palm

but yeah, you decided that you’d leave it at that

if it happened and Illumi would ever like you romantically, great

if not, then you’d slowly move on and remain only friends

it’s not until Hisoka jokingly asks Illumi if you’re single that he sort of stops

his fingers twitch a little, almost ready to grab his needles

and his bloodlust increases

Hisoka smirks knowingly before telling him that he was only joking

Illumi can’t stop thinking about the moment though

he keeps theorising about what it’d be like if you told him that you found someone you liked

oh, he did not like that at all

he would’ve asked you, but since you were the subject of the new… feelings he was having, it didn’t seem like such a good idea

so, on to the internet

pretty much every site he checked said the same thing: a crush on its way to becoming actual love

next level: denial

Illumi is an assassin

he doesn’t need friends

he doesn’t need love

so how did he fall for you?

not even he knows

but he knows that, as much as he denies it, he likes being around you

spending time with you, hearing you talk, hearing you laugh, especially if he made you laugh

the thoughts of taking you out and actually getting to be the only one for you slowly make him accept the situation he’s in

and the more time he spends with you, the more Illumi starts thinking about wanting to confess

you’re as affectionate and friendly as ever

and Illumi actually glares at anyone who comes close to you with the intention of flirting

that hangout of yours means the two of you go to a little ice cream parlour

Illumi’s treat, as he always insists

he’s listening to you talk about what you’ve been doing while he was away for a mission for a few days

to others, it looks like he’s zoning out, words going in one ear and out the other

but you know better

Illumi is literally hanging on to your every word, watching the way your eyes crinkle in happiness

they way your cheeks almost seem to develop dimples from how hard you’re trying not to smile too much

the way your lips move and how they look so kissable

he absentmindedly takes a spoonful of his ice cream

attention snapping to your laughter as you’re looking at him with a fond smile

you lean forward and Illumi does it too without even thinking

your intention was to wipe the side of his mouth with your napkin since he didn’t seem to have noticed the ice cream there

while he thought that you wanted to kiss him

so he did it for you instead

you were stunned for a fraction of a second before smiling and pulling him closer, hands on his cheeks

Illumi could feel his heart beat loudly in his chest

he didn’t see the shock on the other customers’ faces

honestly, neither did you

you were both a little too busy enjoying the moment

but when you laughed happily because your crush was actually mutual and you even got your first kiss with him

Illumi’s lips quirked in a little smile before he fed you some of his remaining ice cream

holding onto your hand tightly as you continued talking and occasionally kissing here and there

no one said a thing, too afraid of Illumi

good thing you weren’t

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

Text

Welcome to Our Hell // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: Charlie asks the reader a simple question that leads the man to fall down a rabbit hole of reading. Despite the panic you felt along with your fellow writers you still introduced and helped him navigate the pool of fanfiction.

Warnings: None (it’s actually possible with me??)

Words: 1k

A/N: I couldn’t resist making a tiny blurb about the revelation that Charlie has read fanfiction, that he enjoyed reading it. I actually talked about how Owen and Charlie would react to jatp fanfiction so sorry for manifesting 😬

ALL FICS MENTIONED ARE TAGGED.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Your eyes slightly glanced up from your computer to where a certain someone was humming along to an Eagles song. His hips swayed as he slipped the egg in the pan, unaware of your eyes following him. He was entirely in his own world while he left you to finish up what he was led to believe was just school work.

The innate cheerful aura the male gave off regardless of the landscape had always been one of your favourite things about him. He saw the joy and good in things most people tended to overlook. It didn’t matter if he had his guitar in his hands or a cooking tool; he’d shoot that smile that melted your heart.

“Whatcha doin’?” Charlie questioned, peering over the island in the apartment you had rented in the city.

“Just doing some work.” You replied, beginning to type once more with a sudden burst of inspiration. You barely noticed he had slid the egg onto the plate before he was at your side.

“Are you writing for Tumblr?”

That one sentence froze you. Fingers stiffened above the well-loved keyboard of your computer you’d invested a fair amount of money on. Goosebumps swarmed every inch of your skin that suddenly lost a few shades.

Your skittish gaze found purchase in the warm ocean of hazel that bore no judgment, “Did you just say Tumblr? H-how do you know Tumblr Charlie?”

The Canadian hummed in response with a thoughtful expression, “I saw this really cool artwork, and it had a link. I followed it to Tumblr. It’s such a cool site.”

“It’s a hell site.” You deadpanned at the young actor who held no contempt for the different creativity methods unleashed in the fandom. Your e/c irises stayed stuck in a battle of colour with his own eyes.

“If it’s a hell site, why do you go on it?”

“It’s like a car crash or a burning building. It’s horrifying, but you stay to see which outcome ends up winning.” You had to carefully find the words to eloquently describe why you kept returning to a site that was frustrating at times.

“There’s so much diversity from songs, traditional art, poems, dances, covers and now writing. It’s insane.” Charlie chucked as he nudged the plate of breakfast he’d cooked for you, “I’m really digging the ‘90s Lalex books-”

“Fanfics. Fics for short.” You offered the man who held a slight expression of confusion that quickly cleared up, “And the writing has been going on since the series dropped. I’d be rich for every fic that referenced Luke’s aversion to sleeves.”

The boisterous laugh filled the room as Charlie hunched over. His arms wrapped around his midsection.

“Don’t you find it weird that there are fics about you?”

“Weird?” Charlie spoke, scrunching up his nose adorably. His hazel eyes lightened further, “Y/N, I’m not weirded out. I’m honoured that I made enough impact to have people writing about me.”

A small smile broke across your face, “You totally have a secret account, don’t you?”

“No. NO.” The whisper come in the dark of the bedroom where both sides of the couple should be sleeping. You had been before Charlie whined with his phone attached to his hand.

“Baby?” You groaned, turning to find him still invested in the world of fanfiction. His hazel eyes, tear-filled, raised to meet yours, “What are you doing up at-3am?”

“I just finished reading this adorable fic about Willex. The euphoria had me reading the next fic without reading the summary.” Charlie cried to the bedside light you’d turned when his sniffles woke you up. The near distraught man didn’t fight as you gently took his face out of his hand.

“Oh, Char.” You hummed, bringing the brunette into your arms as he mourned whatever was in the fic.

“Luke died with his girlfriend waiting in the Orpheum. She lived and began a life with Bobby..er Trevor.” Charlie whispered against the soft comforter you’d only recently bought, “They never got to say goodbye. As Luke’s portrayer, I just know the double betrayal took him to his knees.”

“Ah, you found @losttinwritings ‘See you Again’. That one is a doozy.” You winced, remembering the heartbreaker, “You, however, need sleep.”

Charlie’s eyes quickly met the phone sitting in between you two, “But-”

“Here.” You handed over your own phone after clicking your secondary account, “It’s one of my all-time comfort fics when I’m feeling sad. @dream-a-little-bigger-x always nails it out of the park but ‘Love Shack’? Immaculate.”

Charlie’s eyes flickered between the phone in his hand to your eyes twinkling in the albeit shitty lighting the cheap lamp offered. The vulnerability in your eyes at offering your blog took his breath away. This was a place where you were safe in your thoughts with no judgment.

“Oh! And @cherrymaybank created ‘A Romantic’. A beautiful story in the eyes of a hopeless romantic Luke and the stoic, independent reader.” You offered with a grin and sigh of happiness, “I’ll have to start tagging you in the ones I adore. Definitely gonna introduce you to @merceret’s work; it’s always amazing regardless of how long the fic is or the distance between work. I’d wait a thousand years for her.”

Charlie’s lips spread to reveal that smile that always had you falling back in love over and over again. It even eased the panic you felt viewing Charlie’s rather honest confession he put on his Insta story. He’d caused panic within the writing community as he boldly announced his pride, awe, joy and love for all the fandom provided creatively.

Next thing you knew, you’d started sending each other fics you’d think the other would enjoy; it often ended up with the same fic being sent. Charlie didn’t address the topic publicly to allow the buzz of panic to die down. He also never discovered your personal writing blog either, well, that you knew about.

Sometimes you’d find him sniffling over a story where Luke discovers his girlfriend was unknowingly pregnant and never got to see him child grow up. That one also tore your heart apart and you’d been the one to write it. Just a secret you’d be taking to your grave.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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#charlie gillespie imagines #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie x reader #jatp fanfic #jatp luke #luke patterson imagines #charlie gillespie #luke patterson #charlie gillespie imagine #caitsy and ash productions

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scpeen-l0l · 4 years

Note

Hi! I was wondering if your could do a scp-035 x scientist!reader fix where the they’re in the middle an interview, and a containment breach suddenly happens

ahhh, i’m not entirely sure if this is what you had in mind. but anyways, thank you so much for requesting!! you’re the first on this blog and while writing this i got another! man i’m so happy ahah

(i forgot to tag this when it was first posted lol)

---

1.5k words

‘easy prey’

You’ve always had mixed feelings on 035. Since the very first day you were assigned to them, you felt their infamous ‘lure’ that they were known to have. Despite that, you liked to think of yourself as resilient, so you were able to just bury yourself in work and deny any sort of weird attraction you had to the mask. Of course, 035 had picked up on the behavior that they had seen countless times in the past, much to your dismay.

Your supervisor told you that you would be interviewing 035 with the routine set of questions in a few days’ time. When you queried as politely as possible to why you were assigned to interview them this time over the usual interviewer, your supervisor handed you a page of the transcript of their most recent interview, with a section highlighted in yellow.

//PAGE 2//

08/08/██

SCP#: SCP-035

Class: Keter

Interviewer: Warren, [REDACTED] (Sr. Researcher)

SCP-035: Mhm… Hey, what are the odds of that new researcher coming into my cell anytime soon?

[Dr. Warren pauses for a moment, before looking at their host’s hands.]

Warren: Which one? Dr. L/n or Dr. Ahmad?

SCP-035: The younger one. Yes, I’d like to have a chat.

Warren: Why?

[SCP-035 throws its head back before resting its chin on its intertwined hands.]

SCP-035: Since when have you started recruiting people that young? I simply want to ask them about it.

Warren: Stop it, 035. Be more specific.

[SCP-035 lets out an exaggerated sigh]

SCP-035: Why can’t a mask just have a regular talk with a researcher? All I want is a friendly chat! Besides, you’d get some free time whilst we’re busy…

Warren: If we do allow you to converse, you will only be allowed 30 minutes maximum with routine questions.

[SCP-035 laughs]

SCP-035: That’d be grand. Well, what’s on your mind today?

Your heart was beating out of your chest, fear coursing through your body. Your supervisor coughed to get your attention, to which you could only nod your head slowly to, it wasn’t like you really had a choice. Still, what did it want from you?

You didn’t get much sleep that night, to say the least.

When the fabled day finally arrived, you were an absolute wreck. All of your confidence flew out the window and left you with sweaty palms and a looming feeling of dread. The walk to the mask’s cell was long and unnerving, the adrenaline was putting you on edge. You weren’t usually like this, but your fears got the best of you. What if they convinced you to wear them? What then? Regardless, you’d be dead either way. You cursed yourself for being a nervous wreck at the worst time, so you headed to the closest empty room you could find.

You found yourself in a break room after a few minutes of searching, the missioning around the facility already clearing out your mind. You rubbed your temples, psyching yourself up. If you did eventually become a host for the mask, you sure as hell weren’t going to make it easy. With a small pep in your step, you finally approached the area containing 035.

Warren was talking with your supervisor, just about to leave when he saw you walk in. A forced smile made its way to his face as he approached you.

“Pleasure formally meeting you, L/n.”

“Same here. Do you have a spare copy- “

Warren handed you a file, “here, make sure to stay on topic as much as possible. Oh, and the second you feel like putting him on or anything of the sort, press the panic button next to the microphone on the table.”

Him?

You nodded, reassured that you had a sure-fire way to get out. “Thanks. Do I… go in now?”

Warren turned to your supervisor, Dr. Patel, whom only nodded in response. Dry, as always. You sucked in a deep breath before checking your phone for the time, 9am on the dot. A good time to die, you thought, before a guard ushered you into 035’s cell. A male D-Class with 035 on his face looked to you and tilted his head.

You knew you didn’t look the most assertive, or dominant but you were resilient. That’s all you had going into that interview, you told yourself.

Sitting down and laying out the documents inside the file on the table, you looked back at the group of staff behind you. McAllistor, the technician, gave you a comforting smile; Warren was already out the door; Dr. Ahmad looked away awkwardly; Dr. Patel was typing away on his computer and you could see the side of a guard’s visor at the corner of the observation window. Huh, a little understaffed today. Were they the last people you’d ever see? Perhaps. Alas, you had a job to do, and you were going to do it damn well, if it was the last thing you ever did.

//RECORDING STARTED//

L/n: Hello, 035. Ready to start?

SCP-035: Of course.

Ooh, that voice- Did it always sound so… Smooth?

L/n: Well, let’s get through these questions quickly.

SCP-035: Aw, I was hoping to get to know you a little better first.

L/n: Maybe another time. How would you describe your emotions today?

Deflect, deflect.

SCP-035: Admittedly, a little upset that you’re being so stiff with me. I rarely speak to anyone else other than [REDACTED], who’s gone off who-knows-where. Ooh, probably with his assistant- You wanna hear about that?

L/n: Uh, so you feel upset that you can’t speak with me-

Shit. That threw you off.

SCP-035: Indeed, would you help me with that? Pretty please? You look like you need a break, you know. Look at those bags under your eyes!

No, you weren’t going to let him get under your skin that easily.

L/n: Apologies, 035, if my appearance is sub-par— However, I am incredibly committed to my job and I-

SCP-035: Blah, blah. Cut the canned crap. You can speak to me about it, you know, I’m a great listener.

L/n: I will be the one listening today, 035. Now-

SCP-035: You say-

L/n: 035! Stop speaking over me, unless you want this interview to be terminated?

Assertive, dominant.

SCP-035: Ah, of course not. I was out of line, I am sincerely sorry, dear.

L/n: It’s- It’s fine, where were we? Oh, here, I- Um…

Nevermind. How did he manage to make you feel bad? Stupid mask, getting in your head…

L/n: Uh, how would you describe your intentions as of late?

SCP-035: Nothing dangerous, I simply long for the stage, you know? I just miss the atmosphere! The joy! Oh, what I would do to even just watch another showing…

L/n: Thank you for not evading that question, 035. But, ah, I’m sure if you behave you’d get to-

//CONNECTION LOST//

The breach alarms went off, making you jump out of your seat. Looking back to the observation window, you saw all the scientists being escorted out of the room by the guards. You rushed to the door…

Locked.

Slowly turning back to 035, you gave him the dirtiest glare that you could muster.

“Unlock it. Now.”

“You know, I liked the more quiet, sweet, meek version of you-“

You mockingly mimicked his tone, “you know, I don’t give a shit. I’m not putting you on. You’ve already got a host, just leave me alone!”

“Oh, but you’re so intelligent, so innocent… Face it, you’re dead either way. There’s no way you’re making it out alive, I’ll be merciful and make it painless. Wear me, and I’ll ensure that your body gets some good mileage.”

A small part of you was tempted to take his offer, but the rest of you was only willing to admit he was right. What chance did you have without an armed guard? You slouched, fear settling in.

“Come on…”

You felt a weight on your right shoulder. You could see his hand in the corner of your vision, but, it was cold. Long dead. You didn’t want that for yourself.

Aggressively sliding your keycard in the scanner, you bolted out the cell and grabbed the handgun on the desk.

You let out a humourless laugh, “yeah, no. I think I’m fine.”

035 walked out his cell, scoffing as he looked at the gun in your hands, “what’s that gonna do? Is that peashooter gonna scare 106 away, huh? How many bullets are in that thing, if any?”

Biting your lip, you whined, “ahah, um, yeah… Look,” you debated internally whether you should try bargaining with this thing, “I’m not going to put you on, however, I’m willing to… cooperate in order for us to reach our separate goals. I have a level 3 keycard, which I can hand to you once I find the safety shelter. Try anything funny and I’m snapping the keycard in half.”

035 laughed, “ok, maybe I was wrong about tough and cold L/n. Sure, we can work together, but good luck trying to resist me. I can tell you’re already a bit enchanted already!”

You snorted, “yeah, yeah. Suuuuure… Alright, you promise to keep me safe whilst I navigate through the site?”

“I assure you.”

A part of you felt fuzzy. Damn, he was right about you already being charmed by him. Maybe… No, you weren’t going to give in. You’re using him as much as he’s using you. Right?

“Guess I was wrong about you being an easy host.” He mumbled.

“You what?”

#scp 035 #035 #scp 035 x reader #scp #scp x reader oneshot #scp x reader #anon

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like-a-bag-of-potatoes · 3 years

Text

Our Story - Prologue

theA/N: My first Chris Evans series. This is just a fluffy little series that has been floating around in my brain for a while, and because I've recently fallen head first into the Chris trashcan, I figured he’d be the perfect person for this little love story AU. I mean absolutely no disrespect with this, it's just a work of fiction. I also want to give a huge thank you to @percywinchester27 and @girl-next-door-writes for being my betas for this story. You are both amazing and I'm so grateful for your help on this.

Chapter: One

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader (unfortunately no Chris in this part)

Warnings: Absolutely none.

Wordcount: 1850

Four weeks after my twentieth birthday, I left my childhood home in Savannah, Georgia, and pointed my nose towards New York. It was hard to believe that eight years had passed already, but my twenty-eighth birthday approached in large strides to remind me of how much time had passed, and how much had changed. New York City was a stark contrast to Savannah, the city that never sleeps VS the most charming city in America. When I first moved here, it was my intention to stay for only a year, then I would be back in Savannah with my family and the man that I loved so deeply, Josh.

However, life never really turns out how you intend it to, no matter how much you plan for your future. Josh and I used to talk at length about our future together, and I honestly couldn't wait to get started on it all, house, careers, and then a family of our own at some point. Then, after eight or so months of long-distance we finally broke and admitted to ourselves that it was just too hard. I know you might think that since we had stuck it out for that long, we surely could manage a few more months, but by then I had been asked to stay on in what was supposed to be a temporary position, and I had fallen in love, not only with the city, but with my work. I asked Josh to come to me, told him we could find ourselves a little apartment in Queens, or the East Village, something we could afford, and we could spend a few years together here before moving back home to start a family. I guess you’ve already figured it didn't turn out that way, and it ended, as long-distance relationships often do, in heartbreak. It was my first real heartbreak- amicable, civil, and soul-crushing. It was also then I realized, as we all, unfortunately, do at some point in our lives, that love does not, in fact, conquer all.

If I'm being completely honest, I knew within my first month in this magical city that I would never want to leave, and after things ended with Josh, I felt as though I had deceived him in some cruel, unintentional way. Every conversation we had, had after that had been filled with lies and promises I never intended to keep. I had fooled myself as much as I had fooled him. After our break up, although completely heartbroken, I felt free and unburdened, which strangely made me feel even worse about the whole thing. Our love didn't end in some big blowout argument, or because we didn't want to be with one another. It ended because of the thousands of miles that separated us, and because in the months we spent apart, I changed in a way that could not have been foreseen. Never did I imagine myself in a big and busy city, but as I said, New York and me, it was love at first sight.

You might be wondering what job took me from my safe and comfortable life in Georgia, thinking that it must have been some grand, once in a lifetime thing. It was not. It was a temporary job as a personal assistant. I found it as I sat by my computer one night, daydreaming about what kind of life I would live if I had all the money in the world, what life Josh and I could create for ourselves. That's when I came across the ad. A woman, Mrs. Wallace, needed an assistant. She was a very wealthy woman in need of someone to keep track of her very busy social calendar, amongst other things. I knew she was wealthy because she lived on Fifth Avenue, not that I had ever been to New York and really knew what that entailed, but I had seen movies and read books placed in the city and knew very well that Fifth Avenue was a very expensive street. There was little to no description of the job or what Mrs. Wallace was looking for in an assistant, other than that they had to be organized and were able to juggle multiple things at once. Beyond that it really came down to compatibility. I was nothing if not organized, so before I knew it, I had compiled an application letter and sent to her email. I told no one about this, because it was ridiculous for me to think I'd even get a reply back. In all honesty, it had all been forgotten by the next morning, and I didn't think of it again until three days later when, at dinner with Josh I might add, I got an answer. She would like for us to meet. We sent a couple of emails back and forth where I tried to, as politely as possible, explain that I did not have the means to travel to New York just for an interview. I stated that I appreciated her interest, and apologized profusely for not being able to make it out there. It was then she asked for my details, and about fifteen minutes later I got a confirmation from American Airlines that my ticket had been booked and paid for. Two days later I was sitting opposite Mrs. Wallace at a restaurant that I would never be able to afford, listening to her talk about the job I had applied for and what she expected of me.

The very first thing that struck me about Mrs. Wallace was her age. For some reason, I had imagined someone in their fifties, full of botox, fillers, and whatever else middle-aged women put into their faces to look younger, but Mrs. Wallace was not that much older than me. At the time we met, she was twenty-seven, so younger than I am now, and strikingly beautiful. Thick, black hair that looked professionally blow-dried and sculpted so that not a single strand was out of place. It draped over her shoulders in loose Hollywood style waves and stood in sharp contrast to the white blazer she wore. Her skin was olive, her eyes deep brown, and her cheekbones could probably cut glass. When you put that together with her long, model-like legs, an hourglass waistline, and a very ample bosom, the woman looked like a greek goddess. To top it all off she had a warm and kind smile, and a kick-ass sense of humor. Kate, as she insisted I call her, was far from the stuck up, nose in the sky, botox filled woman that I had imagined in my head. We hit it off, and before dessert was served, I had a job offer.

It's hard to explain, but I felt as though I needed to take this opportunity, that this was an experience I was meant to have in some inexplicable way, and I accepted right then and there without a second thought, or even a conversation with my family or boyfriend. Josh was angry with me at first, but supportive, so two weeks later I stood in front of 1040 Fifth Avenue and looked up at the towering building with its limestone and intricate carvings here and there. Kate greeted me at the front door as I stepped out of the car that she had sent to pick me up from the airport. This place even had a porte-cochere to protect the residents from rain as they walked from the door to their private chauffeur-driven vehicles. I would be staying here with the Wallace family, in the staff quarters with the rest of the staff of course, so that I could be available to Kate at all times. And that's how my New York adventure started.

Eight years later, I am still working for Kate, still living in my little room in the staff quarters, but I love it. I have a little bathroom and everything I need. Food is prepared for us all by the cook, Rosalia. She is a little, plump woman in her mid-fifties, kind and compassionate, not to mention deeply passionate about the food she prepared for the whole household. Along with me and Rosalia, the other staff in our quarters are Magdalena, the housekeeper, and Mitch, who is Mr Wallace’s assistant. There was more staff, of course, like the private chauffeur’s, who didn't live on-site and throughout any given day, people would be in and out of the place like it was a busy office space as opposed to the home that it actually is.

Now, Mr Wallace was a very busy man, working non-stop whether it be at his office, or at his home office. It seemed as whenever I saw him, he was walking in fast strides, either on the phone, or confirming things with Mitch who half sprinted behind him with his I-pad, trying not to trip over anything as he tried to keep up and take down notes at the same time. Henry, that was Mr Wallace’s first name, was a little older than Kate, not so much that you could accuse her of being a gold digger, but he was approaching his fifties now. He didn't look it though, he was a very handsome man, and kind. Imagine George Clooney, a man that just seems to get more gorgeous with every passing year. Kate and Henry were busy, always had their hands full with whatever it was, but somehow they always found time to share a meal together every day. Even if it meant having Rosalia heat up some leftovers for them at midnight. They were very much in love, and it was clear in the way they looked at one another, and how they always made sure to have that little moment to themselves every day. A couple of years ago, Kate had confided in me that she could not have children of her own, it was something that had weighed on her since she was only sixteen years old, but with Henry, she said, ‘I have all I need with that man, all the love I could ever wish for.’ It was a shame really, because I knew that Kate would have made an amazing mother, and Henry a great dad. ‘I'm alright,’ she had assured me. ‘I've come to peace with it, and learned not to dwell on something that will never be.’

So, that's the short version of how I ended up here, doing a job I adored in a city I loved with all my heart, so I think it's about time we move forward. Jump to the part where my real story starts. Spoiler alert; it involves a warm summer day in Central Park, a ruined dress, and an extremely handsome man named Chris.

******

If you liked what you read, how about slamming that reblog button and help spread my work? If you leave a little comment on top of that, you’ll be in my heart forever.

Want a tag? I got you!! Just send me an ASK and I'll add you.

Tags: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss

#Chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #Chris Evans series #chris evans au #OS #chris evans fluff

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pixieungerstories · 3 years

Text

Quarantine - 2

There was no sign the house had any other occupants for days. I hadn’t been able to drag the mattress out of the room where he had put it. It was heavy and I couldn’t compress it enough to get it through the door.

I went back to working from home. The conference calls helped me feel sane. After a while it was easy to pretend the whole thing was some fever dream. I was pretending, though. I still hadn’t tried to open the closet. Grocery delivery was set on a rotation so that once a week they arrived at the gate. My neighbours had theirs brought right up to the house. Mine were always left at the gate of the picket fence that surrounded the front yard.

I used the hedge trimmers to shape the lilac bushes that the neighbours on each side had planted to obscure their view of my house. I weeded and mowed the lawn wishing for grass seed before just giving up and calling it a meadow. Some of the flowers were even pretty. I chuckled with my friends about how much drywall I was going to need when this was over. We laughed about how it was lucky I was alone instead of having a roommate watching me through the holes in the walls.

Well, they laughed. I sort of more chuckled nervously.

I kept an eye on my laptop battery and there weren’t any unexplained power outages. Everything seemed normal.

Until I was cleaning out the basement and found the wine room. I don’t know wine, but there was a lot of it and the newest bottle that I could find was pre world war two.

I wasn’t expecting it to still be good. It was. It felt ridiculous drinking a hundred year old bottle of red wine with a frozen dinner. I did it anyway.

“Are you still here?” I demanded as I was getting ready for bed.

There was no answer.

I found the box that had my vibrator in it and fell asleep in a sweaty puddle.

I woke up a little hung over and found my vibe squeaky clean on the bathroom sink when I went to brush my teeth. My stomach dropped.

“Were you watching me?” I hissed. I don’t know what sort of reply I was expecting, but I didn’t get one.

Once again, I tried to move the mattress to another room. Once again, I failed. I spent the night wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor in the other bedroom, with my laptop plugged in and netflix running to keep me company.

I screamed and stood up when he said from the doorway, “I get lonely too.”

“Jesus Christ!”

He chuckled, “Not even close.” There was a moment of silence as I strained my eyes to see something, anything, in the dark. “I can’t leave either,” he whispered. I stood there shaking in the light from my laptop screen. “Sleep in the bed. I will not bother you.”

I didn’t move. He had just sounded sad when he said it.

“Why can’t I ever see you?” I asked.

“I live in the shadows, you can only see me in darkness.”

I blinked at that. “But you are always here.”

“Yes.”

“And I can’t see in the dark,” I pointed out.

“I know.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I changed the subject. “What do you want from me?”

“When you first arrived, you slept in the garden. If you had started by sleeping in the house, I would have run you off. But you were fixing things, so I let you stay. I got used to you being around. Then you got sick and it would have been so easy to just let you die. I would have gone back to being on my own. I no longer want to be on my own but I hadn’t considered the weight of you being unable to leave. I do not like the idea of you being scared of me and trapped here.”

“But I am,” I mumbled.

“Yes. So take care of yourself. Sleep in the bed. Care for the house. I will stay out of your way.”

I licked my lips. I didn’t want to ask but I had to know. “What were you doing with my vibrator?”

There was no answer. I waited for what felt like an eternity before I continued. “Look, it isn’t a good idea to share sex toys, so depending on where it’s been, I might need to throw it out. I can’t exactly get a new one just now. Please just tell me.”

It was the barest whisper, “I wanted to taste you.”

I froze feeling like a deer in the headlights, completely unsure how to respond to that.

“I have not touched you since you asked me not to,” he argued.

Except for when I almost fell, I thought. You caught me then. And my laptop. I wouldn’t have been able to get a new one of those either. I wondered if soap and water would do it or if I was going to end up with some shadow monster disease. How do you even ask that?

“Ok,” I mumbled. I stood there in the dark and silence. The house was silent. I realized I hadn’t heard rattles or banging or hissing since I learned he was here. “Nyctophobia,” I blurted out.

“I don’t understand,” he replied.

I shifted awkwardly. “Can I call you Nick?”

The silence continued. Then, “Why?”

“Nameless things are more scary. It isn’t as bad having a roommate named Nick.”

He never did answer. Eventually, I sat back down on the floor and wrapped the blanket more tightly around myself. I wasn’t brave enough to walk through a pitch dark house, past a staircase, to get to the room where there was a monster in the closet.

----

There was coffee waiting for me when I got up, and the smell of cinnamon buns baking in the oven. The oven timer said there was 10 minutes left. I peeked inside to find the tiniest pan of monkey bread baking. I recognized the recipe and pulled out the cookbook it came from. Sure enough, in Nick’s careful handwriting was notations about scaling the recipe down to one sixth of how it had been published.

He had used pencil.

“Is this a peace offering?” I asked.

I didn’t get a response, but he did the dishes while I had my bath that morning.

When my groceries were delivered, popcorn had been added to my order.

I didn’t see him. Well, I mean, I never see him, but the only signs of him were things being done and left obviously done while I was bathing or getting dressed. Aside from how nice it was to not do the dishes I appreciated the signs that he was not watching me.

It came as a surprise when I went to put the popcorn in the microwave and the power went out.

“Nick? What are you doing?”

“This isn’t me,” he hissed.

I was lifted and carried squirming through the dark before being pushed into a space and having the door locked behind me. I panicked as I thought I might be in his closet before I realized I was in the wine cellar. Flashes of Edgar Allen Poe stories ran through my mind.

I have no idea how long I was in there, in the dark with my heart pounding as I tried to get the door to open. Eventually, it did.

“All better now,” he assured me, breathing down the back of my neck.

There were a lot of cop cars outside on the street.

“What happened?” I asked. There wasn’t any answer.

A uniformed officer rang my bell, then politely stepped back from my door the requisite six feet.

“Did you hear or see anything unusual last night, Ma’am?” he asked after identifying himself.

Yeah, all the time, I thought. There was still no way to say that and sound sane. I went with a modified version of the truth. “The power went out around 10pm and I ended up stuck in the basement since I couldn’t see the stairs.”

He frowned at me. “Have you noticed anything missing? Any signs of a break in?”

“No? Should I have?”

He appeared to consider this, then stepped further back to look at the state of my house. “There were break-ins all down this street last night. This place might not have been a target.”

“Is everyone OK?” I asked.

“It’s an ongoing investigation,” replied walking towards me again. “I can not disclose anything further, ma’am.”

I swallowed, “That sounds like a no.”

“Do you mind if I come in and have a look around?”

I considered this, “Do you generally advise that women living alone let strange men into their houses? If you are coming to search, I want my lawyer here as a witness.”

He was already peering in around me. The house isn’t that big and the walls were all gone. He could see the whole main floor whether he came in or not.

“Doing some renovations I see.”

No shit Sherlock. “My building permit is posted in my window. I haven’t been able to get trades people out in months but-”

“I'm sure everything is in order with that. Good day.” Then he left. Standing on the porch I could hear him telling the other officers what a shit hole my house was. He thought it should be condemned.

I mean, he was right, still you never like to hear that. And it didn’t need to be condemned. I had the structural engineer’s report to prove it.

I went to work while keeping an eye on the news sites.

It wasn’t break ins. It was looters. The house next to me and the four next to it, all the way to the corner, had been hit. The owners had been found tied up at best and dead at worst with a variety of options in between.

It has escalated all the way down the street.

Then stopped before my house.

“Nick? What did you do?”

He wasn’t talking to me yet.

----

I sat on my bed and waited for the sun to go down. My laptop was in the kitchen. My phone was next to me but set to do not disturb. I waited, straining my ears for any noise.

“Are you there?”

Nothing was said but I was sure I could feel him watching me.

“Please tell me what happened.”

“No one comes into my house,” he snarled.

I swallowed and fought down my fear. “I did.”

“You are different. You are helping.”

I considered that. He had walls before I got here, now he didn’t.

“Am I safe from you?”

“Yes.” It would have been more comforting if he hadn’t growled it.

That was the point where I started to cry. I had made it through everything life had thrown at me without turning into a weepy woman, but that did it. I’m going to blame it on a night of panicking in the wine cellar combined with news reports detailing what had happened to my neighbours.

“Please don’t,” he whispered.

I sniffled. “Fuck. Why don’t I have kleenex?”

A roll of toilet paper was pressed into my hands. I ripped off a length and blew my nose in a way that women in the movies never do, then I jumped as he stroked my cheek with a cool finger, catching my tears. His hand was gone an instant later.

“What if they come back tonight?”

“They won’t,” he said firmly. I don’t think he was talking about the ongoing police presence on the street.

“What did you do?” I sniffled.

“I defended my home. That includes you now.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. I wasn’t sure that I couldn’t catch glimpses of him as the lights on the street kept flashing. Red, blue, huge black shadow.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” I whispered.

The bed dipped but when I reached my arm out in that direction all I could find was a long fingered hand to hold mine. “You won’t be.”

I felt him tug at the blankets underneath me and I slid over so he could turn them back. Even in the dark I could find my sleep shirt under my pillow. I stood up next to the bed, stripped and pulled it over my head. Under the covers looking at the ceiling. Red, blue, shadow, red, blue shadow.

“Are you .. human shaped?”

“I can be.”

I snorted, “What kind of answer is that?”

“An honest one.”

I rolled on to my side so that my back was to him, or at least to where I thought he was.

“I can go.”

“Can you stay?”

The weight on the bed changed. “Don’t try to look at me, you will only give yourself nightmares.”

“You said you’ve read Blue Beard?”

“Yes.”

“Have you read Cupid and Psyche?”

He just snickered.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Does any of that apply here?”

“Are you going to try to burn me with an oil lamp?” he teased.

“Are you going to get me pregnant then cast me out into the wilds?” I countered.

He hissed at that, “Never.”

“Never get me pregnant or -”

“I’m not human. We can’t procreate. I can’t make you sick. You can’t make me sick. We can drive each other insane and you will be able to escape someday. I can not leave.”

“Why not?”

“You need to rest. Don’t ask questions with scary answers.”

“How am I supposed to know they are scary?”

“Because you are asking a monster. Now, go to sleep.”

That was the most ridiculous thing but I wasn’t up to arguing about it. Not while there was still an active crime scene next door.

I fell asleep to the feeling of him stroking my back.

----

The only furniture in the bed room was the bed and a few boxes of random stuff I had moved in. I woke to find one of them had been used as a table and was holding breakfast for me. Or at least a travel mug of coffee and a plate of toast. I sat in bed, drank my coffee, ate my toast and read the thirty seven emails from everyone I knew asking what the fuck happened next door.

I ended up posting a blanket statement on facebook that I was fine. I was still in my house. I had no idea what had happened other than what I had seen on the news. Then I posted a picture of the three squad cars I could still see out my bedroom window.

My boss emailed me to ask when he could expect the report I had been assigned, so that took up the rest of my day. It was getting dark when I realized I hadn’t eaten all day. Another freezer meal, some salad and I was raiding the wine cellar again, god damn it!

As I was pouring wine into a coffee mug, he asked me, “Are you drinking alone?”

I got up, took another mug out of the cupboard, poured a second drink and turned off the kitchen light. “Nope. I’m not alone. You’re here.”

He didn’t answer, as I ate my dinner by the light of the street lights outside. The porch light was outside the kitchen window, so I turned it on to wash the dishes then turned it off to go upstairs. It would have been better if I hadn’t stubbed my toe on the bottom step. I swore. Nick picked me up and carried me up the stairs.

“I didn’t have that much to drink!” I protested.

“No, but you can’t see in the dark.” He tucked me safely into bed.

“Did you change the sheets?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “You did, didn’t you?”

My laptop opened and his body blocked the screen for a few moments. Then Brooklyn 99 came on and it was set next to me.

“Why are you doing this?”

“We need a distraction. Call Penny.”

“We need a distraction? We?”

“Yes.”

I hesitated. “Do you need me to move out and camp in the backyard for a few days?”

His reply was a nonverbal roar that rattled the windows and set off a car alarm outside.

There was a commotion then the cops were knocking on my door. I sighed and turned on the lights. I decided to be proactive this time. I flung open the door and demanded “What the hell are you doing out here?”

The cops on my porch blinked.

“I’m trying to sleep! Can you keep the noise down? Please? I know whatever you are doing is important but can you just do it a little quieter?”

“That wasn’t us!” the youngest protested.

“Then can you find out who it was and make them stop?”

To my delight, they left.

I closed the door, smiled to myself and bounced off a wall of darkness that caught me before I rebounded against the door.

“I do not want you sleeping outside!” he growled in my ear.

There were one set of arms around my shoulders and another holding my hips and back. I tried to think of a ‘what big arms you have Mr Wolf’ quip but it died on my lips and the touch was gone in an instant.

“Nick? Can you help me not trip on things on my way to the stairs?”

Hands on my hips, pushing me gently forward and steering me around boxes. Another hand guiding mine to the banister. Then nothing. I carefully inched my way upstairs. I did that awkward thing at the top where you think there is still one more step but there isn’t so your leg falls through nothing and you stumble. To my right was the bedroom, still lit by the flickering screen of my computer.

I climbed into bed and closed it.

Then I opened it, stared at the browser for a moment, then closed it again.

“What’s wrong?”

I considered this. I really had no secrets from him anymore. “I’m anxious and keyed up. I need … some ‘alone time’ but it’s weird if you are watching.”

“Would it be better if I was helping?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t know what you are working with. But I feel lonely.”

Gentle fingers took my hand and raised it. The lips that kissed and the tongue that laved were not human. I turned my hand to stroke his face but he leaned away.

That stung. I let my hand fall to the bed. “It isn’t fair that you get to touch me but I can’t touch you.”

He didn’t say anything to that. A car drove past and the headlights lit the room for an instant. Long enough for me to see four glittering eyes watching me, two forward facing and two further to the sides. Not human, I reminded myself. In the darkness, a hand cupped my face, thick lips caught mine and as I kissed him a tentacle like tongue licked at my lips before darting briefly down my throat.

“I can do better than that toy,” he promised, “but you can not see me.”

I nodded. Four hands stroking me over my clothes. A mouth kissing and licking at my neck. I was expecting him to peel me out of my clothes, instead his touch was so feathery gentle. Hands cupped my face as he nuzzled my hair. I strained my eyes trying to see him, but I could catch only the faintest outline. Any time I reached out for him he pulled away. Finally, he got frustrated with that and pinned my hands over my head.

I panicked and pulled my hands away and just like that he was gone.

“Nick?”

I don’t know why I was expecting an answer. I groaned and pressed both palms to my face covering my eyes. I jumped when he caressed my calf, but I didn’t move my hands.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“Damned if I know,” I admitted. “It’s been … I don’t even know anymore… how long have I been stuck in this house? Weeks? Months? None of this seems real anymore. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m real anymore either. I just need … something.”

“Someone,” he whispered.

“Yeah. Someone to make me feel like I’m real. Just to make me feel.”

“Humans need other humans to be human,” he muttered. “You should have just called your friend.”

My eyes prickled again and tears splashed against my hands. “How long have you been here?”

“There was an accident shortly after the house was built. I came because of that.”

That raised a lot of questions, but my immediate one was, “How long have you been here alone?”

“On and off since then. Most people don’t last much more than a month or two. Normally, construction crews are the advance party before they move in. It’s easy enough to get rid of the new owners. You were just too stupid to leave.”

I snorted, “Were you really trying to make me go? Because living here was creepy but not anywhere close to the scariest place I’ve ever lived.”

“My heart wasn’t in it. I need you to finish fixing the place first. Sooner or later someone would have built one of those ridiculous houses on the lot.” He started to massage my calf as he spoke.

“The house is more than a hundred years old. That’s a long time to be alone,” I pointed out.

“Enough time to get good at it,” he countered.

I moved my hands then and sat up to look at him. I thought I could see a pool of shifting darkness. “What are you? Are you a ghost? Did someone die here and -”

“Many people have died here. I am not one of them.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I some dead woman who is all alone here making excuses for why I can’t leave?”

He laughed at me then, not a jolly laugh, an odd howling laugh. “How did you come up with that ridiculous idea?”

It stung a little, “It’s a popular plot point in a number of movies. And I can’t help but notice you didn’t answer the question.”

He stopped laughing when he realized I was serious and said flatly, “You aren’t dead.”

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined #monster boyfriend #shadow monster

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katnissmellarkkk · 3 years

Note

I *DEMAND* part 3 of shattered pearl. I repeat. I *DEMAND*.

Hahahahaha omg. Well, I decided to legitimately dig through the archives of my writing drafts and found chapter three of the Peeta-Wasn’t-Hijacked fic. It’s been given like 1,000 different names on different sites. I’ve never loved any of them. And I don’t really think this is my best writing ngl. But I also figure ... why be so stingy, ya know? If I have an incomplete draft, that I probably won’t finish, why not post a little bit? Especially since I literally left everyone and their brother who were reading this fic on a cliffy for over a year.

With that said.... I wrote this part like ... 15 months ago? 14 ? 13 ? Something like that. And I haven’t edited it since so ... yeah! Here’s a small chunk of chapter three! 🥳🥳🥳 Hope it’s better than I remember it being!

But it’s lacking something and it’s only then I realize, what I’m searching for inside Gale’s mouth, is the spark that only Peeta’s ever ignited in me. I keep waiting in vain for the warmth that started in my stomach and then rose up and exploded in my chest, for the craving that no matter what I couldn’t manage to satisfy, for the thrilling, almost hysterical, tingly feeling, to overcome me and leave me lightheaded in a completely foreign way. A way that couldn’t be attributed to lack of oxygen.

But it never does. I pull back and wipe my mouth carelessly on my arm and sigh, already sensing Gale’s demeanor taking a nose dive at my lackluster reaction.

I’m not disappointed when I look to see his expression. His eyes are frustrated, his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are pinched together. And I feel as bad as I knew I would. Because no matter what, I’m hurting someone I deeply care for.

But how I feel upon seeing Gale’s face isn’t even comparable to the amount of remorse that fills me, that overtakes my entire being, when I see Peeta standing in the doorway, having watched our entire exchange.

I yelled his name as he disappeared down the hall. I tried to rip out all the needles and wires connecting me to the machines and the stiff, sterilized bed but Gale used all his strength to push me down flat. I was overpowered and exhausted and my left side was screaming mercilessly, and I don’t even know what pain was the bruised lung and what pain was my hurt ribs and what pain was my heart violently smashing into the pit of my stomach.

All I know is that if I had been able to reach Peeta before he evaporated, I have no clue what I would have said to him.

What I could have said to make it alright.

Gale tried to talk to me again after that but I entirely tuned him out, no longer caring if I wounded his feelings, or anyone else's for that matter.

It seems like no matter what I do, no matter how careful or cautious or preemptive I try to be, someone still got hurt in the end.

I wish I could just shut out the world, like I did during those first few weeks in Thirteen. Hide inside closets when I had a flashback. Shove myself into a minuscule crawl space with every nightmare. Refuse to speak to anyone who wasn't Gale or my family. Only eat when my mother nearly forced me. Show no remorse for how rude or how clinically insane I came across.

But now there was an agreement in place, an agreement I made to protect the victors—namely the one who just disappeared down the hall on me—and the people who had no voice on their own. The people who’s only chance was a half-crazed, shell-shocked, battle worn seventeen year old girl, who was just gunned down on national television.

Even if I wanted to retreat to some safe haven inside my head—if such a thing even existed for me—like Annie Cresta, I knew it could never happen.

For me, that wasn’t an option. If I don’t fulfill my duties to Coin, Peeta, Johanna, Annie and probably countless more people will suffer. The districts would undoubtably suffer. Gale would suffer. My mother and Prim would suffer.

I was proven right when later that same night Plutarch came to visit me again. I'd been lying on my side to avoid having to see Gale, who was still soldered to my bedside. My good side was thankfully opposite his seat.

When the Gamemaker spoke I thought I would be forced back to work. Forced to head back to the rebels and engage in their plans.

And I was resigned to it, well aware all along that I wouldn't be given the luxury of time to grieve the hurt I just caused Peeta. Or even the pain I knew I was inflicting upon Gale. The constant seesaw my heart was bouncing up and down on.

I was endlessly thankful that I was still pumped with morphling when Plutarch said that I was needed in Coin's office, because it heavily suppressed any real emotion I had brewing deep inside.

Morphling can cause you to let down your guard sometimes, make you say or do things you wouldn't otherwise or allow things to happen you'd ordinarily have the sense to stop. But it also causes all your severe emotions, all your heightened feelings, to dull as well. And for that, in light of everything that had just transpired, I was eternally grateful for.

When the doctor had removed all the needles from my arm, and I had been given a robe to go over my hospital gown—which, shockingly, was even uglier and thinner and itchier than the gowns they gave in the Capitol hospitals—Gale escorts me down the halls, through the corridors and to President Coin’s office.

I don’t speak to him the entire time. Looking at him makes my stomach churn with remorse and regret, though I’m not even sure who those feelings are directed towards. I’m not even sure how to articulate the way I feel right now.

And, as much as I try to force him out of my mind—as much as I do my best to rip him out from wherever he crawled beneath my skin and flooded into my veins—I inexplicably miss Peeta.

In more ways than I even know how to decipher. Even inside my own head.

I thought that feeling of longing would have ebbed away once he was rescued from Snow and his twisted mansion, but even knowing he’s safe here in Thirteen, I still crave his presence next to me.

I still want him next to me almost all the time.

It’s at least partially attributable to the fact that for so long, it was me and Peeta against the world. He has been my partner in this whirlwind rollercoaster since the first games and, even when I feel like every single aspect that could potentially go wrong has, sometimes it seems like I couldn’t have gotten luckier with who was chosen that fateful reaping to stand by my side the entire horrific ride.

I wipe my eyes as inconspicuously as I can but Gale sees and almost instinctively puts his hand on my shoulder. And proves he knows me better than I give him credit for. “I’ll talk to him, Katniss.”

“Don’t,” I immediately hiss. “You’ll just make it worse, Gale. He-he,” I struggle with explaining what I want to say and I curse my best friend for even addressing my moment of weakness because now I have to go talk to Coin, looking like an unstable mess—with a near bullet wound—and I blurt out the very first thing I can think of. “He doesn’t even know you, okay? You’ll just-“

There’s no malice in Gale’s voice as he softly replies, “Well, he was fine when I went and saw him before you woke up.”

I stop now, dead in my tracks. “You saw him? After I was shot?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, I felt like should check on him. I know...” He pauses and looks upwards and I recognize, once again, this whole thing isn’t easy for him either. “I know he means a lot to you. And I heard what happened when he saw you go down. So I went and checked in on him...” He stops again before shrugging nonchalantly. “He was calmer by the time I saw him. He was nice. He’s always been nice.” At that Gale rolls his eyes. “Too nice. Probably why Snow wanted to hurt him.”

I start walking again, moving ahead of him a few paces. “You’re not helping,” I state, my voice a monotone.

“I’ll talk to him,” Gale offers again, running to catch up.

“Please don’t, okay? Just let it be. I don’t even know if he’ll speak to me, I don’t want to have to worry about what you’ll say to him.”

I vigorously shake off his hand on my shoulder when he tries to comfort me again, and feel him root into place as I make the rest of the way to Coin’s office.

And I wonder if I hurt him now too.

I wonder if I managed to completely annihilate them both from me in one night.

Much to my surprise and, to be completely honest, my utter disappointment, Coin doesn’t want me to head back out and fight for the rebellion. She doesn’t want me to even film more propos.

Plutarch does, but his ideas now are pretty frivolous and have more to do with him being still stuck in the fantasy of putting on a good show and less to do with fighting for the good of the country.

Coin simply says, “You did your job, Miss Everdeen. You united the districts,” in her calm, disingenuous—completely unsettling—tone.

And argument I put up is met with a simple shake of the head and a pursing of her lips. All indisputable rejections, her cold, blank eyes telling me wordlessly that in no way could I sway her once her mind was made up.

Still doesn’t stop me from trying though.

“I want to help the rebels,” I plead, looking to Boggs behind Coin’s chair, his face still stoic but his eyes giving me a look that isn’t altogether dismissive.

That was something. It was more than I was getting from either Coin or Plutarch.

Coin though brushes off my words and cuts me down infuriatingly quick with a single sentence. “Plutarch wanted to see Peeta earlier, talk about some propos. But when he sent for him, one of the doctors working with Peeta said he wasn’t having a good day.”

Her tone is smooth and pleasant enough but there was an undercurrent to her words that she knew I would hear. “Do you know how Peeta is? I would have thought with your waking up this morning, he’d be in better shape than he was but if you two aren’t getting-“

“Me and Peeta are fine,” I snap, not liking whatever she’s implying.

She nods, slowly at me, choosing her next sentiment carefully. “Well, let’s hope so. We need both of you now to remain the faces of this revolution. And I wouldn’t want you to do anything rash because of... problems between you and your... between you and Peeta.”

I’m shaking my head, feigning certainty, before she even finishes. “That’s not why I want to help the rebels,” I insist firmly.

“Irregardless, Miss Everdeen, we don’t have a job for you. You aren’t qualified to go into the fight and we no longer need your propos to unite the districts. Your job is done. Thank you for your help.”

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m being definitively dismissed now. Indefinitely.

I don’t make any effort to keep my cool, instead choosing to storm out of the room, slamming the door cacophonously behind me and wonder why I let that woman get to me so much. Why her words and implications slice me open like a knife.

Why no matter how much I try, I just can’t like her.

Something about her rubs me the wrong way and, once again, I wish Peeta was here with me in the room, because he of all people could understand what about Coin felt off and strange and so familiar.

I curse myself again, as I suddenly miss him even more than before.

Unable to force myself to put my focus elsewhere—especially now that Gale is surely angry too—I change directions and head towards the recovery room.

I don’t even knock before entering. I push the door open, only to find him sitting on top of his bed, a sketchbook in hand, a lot more tranquil than I pictured.

He looks up as I enter—and then, simultaneously freeze in the doorway, like the coward I truly am inside. Before he can speak though, I blurt out, “I know you’re mad about me kissing Gale and I don’t know how much you saw or heard, but it wasn’t... it wasn’t exactly...” I stop because once again, I’m unprepared and out of my element and have no rhyme or reason in what I’m trying to say. I don’t know the right thing to say. I never know the right thing to say.

Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t screw always everything up. “It wasn’t,” I finally force myself to continue, off his patient and somewhat bewildered glance. “It wasn’t what I wanted... I didn’t want it to happen. I don’t, I don’t even know what-“

He finally puts me out of my misery now. “Katniss,” he speaks my name along with a sigh. I watch carefully, feeling a lump build in my throat, as his blonde brows furrow over his baby blues.

He shakes his head, slow and calm. Far more reasonable than I ever anticipated. “I’m not mad at you, Katniss,” he promises, with all the genuineness in the world.

I bite my lip, befuddled by his words. “But... where have you been then?” Why did you leave me? A small voice in the back of my mind demands.

He shrugs, his gaze falling down to his bed now. His demeanor is almost embarrassed, I realize with a start.

“I wanted to give you and Gale space. I’ve been practically mauling you since you woke up so I thought-“

“But I didn’t want you to leave,” I abruptly burst out, unable to shove the words down any longer.

A pang of embarrassment shoots through me though, for the pathetic crack, evident in my tone. And I mentally berate myself.

Not for the embarrassment. For the pathetic crack itself.

And for the fact that somehow I’m the frenzied one here and Peeta is the voice of reason.

Which used to be our norm but after everything that’s transpired, I would have thought things would be reversed by now.

He just stares at me for a long moment, carefully considering his next words.

Finally, he opens his arms slowly and utters, “Come here,” in a tender murmur and I practically fly into his arms before I can second guess the offer.

I feel my injured side screaming as I curl up like a ribbon in his arms, but I surpress the wince to the best of my ability and instead bury my face in his shoulder, breathing in his sweet scent like a mad girl.

He softly presses his lips to my messy locks, carefully massaging the back of my head soothingly. “I’m sorry I ran away,” he whispers, barely loud enough for even me to hear. “I was just embarrassed. I know—I’ve always known deep down—that it’s not right for me to constantly hold you to the things you said in the games. Or to project my own feelings onto you.”

“You didn’t,” I refute venomously, my brows knitting together.

“Katniss, I know you and Gale have had something between you for a long time.”

“Gale was just a friend until me and you came back from our first games. Maybe he wanted to be more even before, I don’t know, but I never felt anything romantic for him. I swear.”

“You don’t have to defend your feelings to me,” he states softly.

“I know, it’s just...” I sigh, moving to sit upright across his thighs. “No matter what I do, it’s wrong. If I say I’m confused, you’re both hurting. If I say I want to kiss you or sleep with you or just be with you, I’m leading you on because I can’t-I can’t make any promises about my feelings right now, because I don’t even know up from down anymore. And if I say I do or don’t want to kiss Gale or be around him or hunt with him still, I’m hurting him or giving him the wrong idea or telling him the wrong things, and it all gets confused and there’s an entire rebellion that I’m the face of, and now I don’t even know if I’m a part of that, but Snow and his followers all hate me still so I know family still won’t be safe until this is all over. And you. You and Johanna and Annie went through the ringer over me. And Gale gets upset whenever he sees us together—it hurts him to see us—but I can’t always seperate you two from one another and I just-I don’t know what I can do. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Peeta lets me rant the whole entire spiel out, his hand slowly moving in circles to rub my back, from the top of my spine down to my backside. “Katniss,” he whispers once I’m done. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I get it. You’re under immense pressure. The last thing I want to do is make things harder on you.”

“You’re not,” I say, shaking my head insistently. “You’re not making anything worse, Peeta. It’s-it’s not you.”

“Okay,” he concedes and unconsciously wraps me up tighter in his arms. “Just relax, okay? Relax and breathe.”

I quiver and quake against him. “I don’t think I can.”

I barely realize I’m crying until Peeta leans down to kiss my tearstained cheek softly. “Katniss, it’s okay. I’m not mad. And Gale shouldn’t be. If he is, then that’s on him. The rebellion isn’t just your responsibility. Do not let them put all that weight on your shoulders. I know they already have but it’s not all your responsibility. And no one is going to let anything happen to your mom or sister.” He pushes my hair away from my forehead, pressing his lips there for a long moment. “Or you. I promise I will not let anything else happen to you.”

I swallow hard as he rests his forehead against my temple. I squeeze my eyes shut in hopes that it will make my head stop spinning somehow. Deep breaths to center myself fail miserably and in the end, I feel my bruised ribs and lung disagree with the movement and ache worse than before.

Peeta feels me cringing against him in pain and remains careful as he shifts, reaching for something off his bedside table.

I’m in too much pain to react as pushes off my robe and tugs my hospital gown down in order to slide against my skin, his hand holding it firmly to my side.

The icy temperature brings some sort of relief to me almost instantly, and I let out an audible sigh of relief, feeling my rigid body relax even a minuscule amount for the first time.

“I don’t blame you for having feelings for Gale,” Peeta murmurs, drawing my attention back to our conversation and away from my painful left side. “And if you want to be with him, I won’t hold it against you. I’m not going to lie, I’d be ... sad but... it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be your friend. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be at jere for you however you needed me. There’s no ultimatums here, Katniss. I’m still here for you, even if you’d rather be with Gale.”

I pause for a long moment, absorbing his words. He’d be willing to be my friend, even if I hurt him? Even if I chose someone else over him? Even after everything we went through, even after all the ways he’d been abused because Snow could see how much I care for him? How much I need him. He’s still willing to put it all aside and be there for me, no strings attached.

And I try not to compare but my brain draws the conclusion almost involuntarily, and I can’t stop myself from realizing that, in the same position, Gale would likely not be telling me the same thing.

I burrow my face deeper in his shoulder, shutting my eyes in exhaustion.

Peeta catches me off-guard, moving my hair aside to kiss my neck, eliciting a flare of heat in the place where his lips brush my skin, and I may not know exactly how I feel, but I know in that moment exactly what I want right now.

“The only person I want to be with tonight is you,” I whisper honestly, looking up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to somehow understand an emotion I don’t know how to admit. “The only person I want right now is you, Peeta.”

#everlark #thg #hunger games #my writing #asks 🦋#everlurked 🌸✨

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snitches-at-dawn · 4 years

Text

draco fucking malfoy pt 2 || d.m.

a/n: thank you all so much for the gorgeous reception you gave part one of this fic- it honestly means the world to me.

this fic is a fair bit longer than the first part, mainly because i didn’t really want to drag this onto 3 or 4 parts.

this is specifically for the wonderful nonnie who asked me for a part two and a happy ending, i am sorry this is bittersweet instead of happy like you had requested. to make up for that, i’ll be posting a small happy alternative ending in a reply to your comment just for you titled “Draco Fucking Malfoy Pt 2 - Alternative Ending”

i finished it a bit early so i thought i’d post it now and the alt ending later around 1pm pst.

i hope you all like this and are safe, wherever you are.

word count- 3.1k

part 1 to draco fucking malfoy

alternative ending

“nope. nope nope nope nope nope,” you said repeatedly to yourself as you continued pacing up and down your room, as if the combination of the words and actions could change the name on your left wrist. a soft knock on the door made you stop your pacing. you heard hermione’s excited voice float across, “(y/n), have you got a name yet?”

“fuck me,” you groaned and put your head in your hands wondering how harry would take this news. your best friend had a hard enough time adjusting to draco when you were dating, you had no idea how he’d take the news of having to deal with him for the rest of your lives. you remembered his reaction when you told him that draco had asked you out in your fourth year before the triwizard tournament.

~flashback~

“erm...harry?” you said nervously as you entered his dorm.

“i know, (y/n), i just need five minutes then we can go for dinner,” he replied as he rummaged through his trunk for something.

“not that,” you said, “can we talk?”

“sure,” he said distractedly, waving towards the foot of his bed indicating that you should take a seat, where you dutifully perched yourself.

“so erm, draco malfoy asked me out,” you rushed out, fiddling with the sleeve of your sweater.

“bit early for a hallowe’en prank isn’t it?” he laughed.

“harry. i’m not kidding. he asked me out,” you said more confidently this time.

harry stilled and then swivelled around to face you, “say that again.”

“draco asked me out.”

“are you having me on?” his voice was suspicious.

you shook your head, tucking your hair behind your ears so harry could look into your eyes and see that you weren’t joking and you repeated, “draco asked me out.”

“draco?” harry asked incredulously, “since when do we call malfoy ‘draco’? and what d’you mean he asked you out? why would he ask you out? you’ve never even spoken!”

“erm well actually, remember how last year you couldn’t come to hogsmeade,” you paused as he nodded, “well at some point it started snowing really hard i lost ron and hermione, so i went into madam puddifoot’s to find someone else to walk back with because the three broomsticks was empty, but draco was the only other student there. everyone else had left by then, i guess.

“well, we ended up walking back together and he told me he had been stood up by daphne greengrass. it was a bit awkward at first- i didn’t know how to comfort him really. he changed the topic soon enough to quidditch and he turned out to be nice and we got along well enough. then i started seeing him everywhere. he was talking to me at every party, sitting next to me in potions once in a while, walking down to care of magical creatures, that sort of thing. we sort of became... friends,” you trailed off as you saw harry wanted to speak.

“and how come neither of ron, hermione or i realised? i think we would have known if you were talking to someone we all hate- or hated in your case.”

“hermione did. she and i started spending alot of time together because of her fight with ron- that’s when we got close. she’s known about us since the first day we spoke actually- she’s been... surprisingly supportive. you were so preoccupied with the whole sirius situation you didn’t notice which was totally understandable of course and she agreed that telling you would only wind you up. ron... well- ron’s just always been a bit oblivious,” you answered.

harry grunted.

“right well, we just ended up spending alot of time together last year and wrote to each other a fair bit over the summer. at some point we started liking each other i guess,” you shrugged.

harry looked at you sharply, “you fancy him then?” to which you nodded.

“hang on- is that where you snuck off as soon as we got to the world cup campsite? when you showed up near the bulgarian’s site? the three of us reckoned you had got lost or something.”

“yeah, we had planned to meet up in front of his tent weeks before.” you said fondly, “that’s where he told me he fancies me and-”

“alright i don’t need to know if you snogged there,” he interrupted you hastily but your blush gave you away, “oh c’mon (y/n), you snogged him?”

“no,” you heatedly replied, “we just kissed.”

“you couldn’t have found any other boy, (y/n)? you have a line of boys who’d line up to date you. merlin’s sake you don’t even have to look outside my dorm- seamus and neville would kill for a shot at you.”

you scoffed, “they only like me because i play quidditch. draco,” you voice softened, “draco likes me for the music i listen to, my sarcasm, my horrid jokes and all the stuff that annoys most people.”

he sat down wearily next to you, “and you really like him?”

once again you nodded.

seeing he looked just as bewildered by your choice you said, “look it won’t be long. i’m a half blood. there’s no way his parents will let us date long once they find out.”

harry considered this for a moment. he sighed, “well, that’s true. go on then. he’d better treat you alright, (y/n). i’m not having him screwing with my best friend,” and he slung his arm around your shoulder.

“with any luck he’ll be screwing your best friend rather than screwing wit-”

“yeah just don’t tell me about your sex life alright?” he interrupted you again.

you hugged him hard, “thank you for understanding, harry. i know you can’t be too happy with your best friend crushing on someone you hate.”

he awkwardly patted your head in acknowledgment.

hermione walked in to see you laughing at the pathetic irony of your situation. looking at you confused, “(y/n)? who is it?”

“draco fucking malfoy,” you mumbled from between your hands which covered your face.

“come again?”

you sighed and put your hands on the bed on either side of you.

“it’s draco,” you exhaled

hermione laughed too, “no really, who is it?”

resignedly you showed her your wrist. her face fell, “no.”

“my thoughts exactly. it’s like some kind of cosmic joke.”

“what are you going to do?” she asked.

“commit murder possibly,” you said marching out of your dorm and to harry’s ignoring her calling your name, presumably trying to talk some sense into you.

“the map. give me the map,” you snapped at harry once you had barged into his dorm, ignoring the other boys crowding around you asking who your soulmate was.

“why? who’s your soulmate?” harry asked.

you shoved your wrist under his nose. he stared in shock, “i don’t know whether to feel bad for you or laugh at you.”

“you’ll give me the fucking map unless you want me to hex you into next year.”

he produced the marauders’ map from the depths of his trunk which you snatched and proceeded to exit the room once again to the sound of your name.

“oi! (y/n)!)” harry called again jogging after you.

“what?”

“why d’you want the map?”

“i need to talk to him,” you replied.

harry nodded, understandingly but called after you when you had turned around.

“what?” you asked more irately this time.

he hesitated, “(y/n) don’t- don’t do anything stupid. as much as i’d love for you to hex him till his mum couldn’t recognise him- he is your soulmate whether you like it or not. even though we all hate him, he’s who you’ll spend your life with. don’t say anything you’ll regret in the future.”

a small smile tugged at your lips, “i thought i was supposed to get wiser when i got older.”

turning you attention back to the map, you saw the little dot labelled ‘draco malfoy’ in the girl’s lavatory on the second floor and purposefully stalked out of the gryffindor tower to moaning myrtle’s bathroom, not even wondering why he was in the girl’s lavatory.

you didn’t even remember the walk down, just how blindingly angry you felt. angry at the universe. angry at harry for not stopping you from dating him two years ago. angry at draco for not telling you why he broke things off. angry at draco for being your soulmate. angry at... you weren’t angry at draco for being your soulmate.

you saw a flash of platinum blonde hair in the mirror you stood in front of, and whirled around.

he was leaning against the wall behind you, watching you with calculating eyes as he tried to predict your next move.

your rage re-surfaced as you walked across the bathroom to him, shoes squelching and robes dragging in the standing water until you stood so close to him your noses were almost touching.

“you,” you said with as much disgust as you could muster in your voice.

“yes?” draco asked pleasantly as though you had said his name to get his attention.

“fix it.”

“fix what, darling?”

you stabbed your wand into his chest, “don’t you call me darling you prick.”

“alright. what d’you want me to fix?”

you had started to walk away from him but spun around at that question, “what d’you mean ‘what d’you want me to fix’?” for the third time that hour, you shoved your wrist under someone’s nose.

“this,” you hissed, “fix this.”

“and how can i fix this?” he asked, baring his own wrist to you.

something about seeing your name on his wrist made your anger concentrate into a tiny ball in the center of your chest, rather than the disorganised feeling you had earlier, and you felt your head clear a bit.

“there’s some kind of mistake. we’ll go to mcgonagall tomorrow and have her arrange for us to get to the ministry so we can get this sorted out,” you said in that same low voice you had used that night on the astronomy tower. your mind was racing as you muttered under your breath, trying to think of ways to break the bond you had forced on you.

“(y/n).”

your attention shifted to draco who was standing right next to you.

“(y/n), do you really think this is a mistake? i mean really? we were amazing together. yeah our parents didn’t like it, yeah we had alot of people talking about us, but that didn’t affect us,” he said. when you didn’t respond he continued, “we were good for each other. i calmed you down when your temper flared up. you’d keep me in check if i started bullying someone. we worked together to get better in our classes and it worked well. we made each other better in every way.”

“yeah we did work well, until you dumped me for no reason. it’s been three months and i still have no idea why you up and left. if things were as peachy as you make them sound, then why the fuck would you get out of the relationship?”

you didn’t know how to address him. ‘draco’ was too familiar and ‘malfoy’ was too distant.

he shrugged and returned to the wall he had been leaning against.

with the moonlight bouncing off his white hair, the water just covering the soles of his shoes and the way his robes were draped around him, he looked like some kind of ethereal spirit floating an inch above the ground.

you hated that.

draco seemed lost in his own thoughts, so you jerked him back to focus on you by snapping your fingers, “well?”

he laughed lowly, “you wouldn’t believe me if i told you, my darling.”

“try me.”

as he looked at you, you could see the cogs turning in his brain, considering your words and the ramifications of telling you whatever the reason was.

the right cog must have clicked in place.

“promise me you won’t judge me.”

“no.”

“(y/n), i’m not kidding,” he said wearily.

“nor am i.”

in response to his silence you continued, “ i reserve the right to judge you after how you dumped me.”

his face contorted in anger. “fine,” he snapped, “fine.”

he moved towards you and wrenched up his left sleeve for you to see his arm. the dark mark. the dark mark ruining his alabaster skin.

“there. that’s why i broke up with you,” he spat.

his voice was deadly quiet and shaking.

“no,” you whispered, all the anger seeping out of your body. your hands grabbed his arm of your own volition and made as though they were trying to wipe off the mark as though it were drawn on.

it wasn’t.

“no, you’re just sixteen you aren’t even of age. there’s no way this is real,” the last sentence was posed more like a question which you looked at him to confirm.

he nodded, “it’s real.”

“did... were you forced?”

he extricated his arm from your grip and let his sleeve fall back down, silently watched you, gauging your reaction.

“draco...” your voice trailed off. you had no idea what to say. or what you wanted to say.

after a few moments of silence he said, “i have to kill dumbledore.” his voice was quivering again.

you looked at him in abject horror.

“what?”

he nodded and leaned over the sink, choking out through sobs, “with dad in azkaban... he would have killed mum if i hadn’t take the mark when i did. i did what i had to. now i have to finish off the job and he’ll... he might spare mum.”

your mouth was agape, your brain sluggish.

“that’s why i broke up with you. i knew i’d have to take it over the summer. it was easier to have you hate me than love me; it wouldn’t make you a target.”

everything made sense now- why he looked so sleep deprived the week leading up to your break up, why he was so evasive and jumpy after the article in the daily prophet publicising his dad’s arrest.

you tentatively turned him around and when he didn’t resist, you reached out to touch his face. he leaned into the touch and you pulled him into you. your arms around his neck with his face buried in the crook of yours, this situation felt comfortingly familiar- at least it would have been if his shoulders weren’t shaking with silent sobs.

you couldn’t seem to feel any of the resentment that you had felt towards him for the last three months anymore as you stroked the nape of his neck in an attempt to calm him down. you just wanted to protect him. hide him from the cruel world and to let him breathe.

you guided him to the corner of the bathroom, drying the floor with a murmured incantation before sitting the both of you down.

“there’s going to be a war, (y/n),” draco said into your neck with his arms wrapped around your waist as you held him protectively.

“i know,” you whispered back.

“your side will lose, darling, he’s too strong. if you’re it for me, you’re the one i’m to be with, i need you alive after this war. hell, even if you weren’t it for me, i’d still ask you to come to his side.”

“draco,” you exhaled softly looking at him, “you know that isn’t possible. harry-” your voice trailed off.

what would you tell harry? would you tell him about draco’s mission? you shook your head. harry was a problem for later. right now, draco needed you.

“leave him,” he said hoarsely, gripping your wrists, “i know he’s your best friend but (y/n), you can’t die on me. i refuse to let that happen.”

“oh darling,” your voice broke as your stroked his face.

the both of you sat there, intertwined for a few silent seconds before you pulled draco against your front as you leaned against the wall.

“doesn’t this feel familiar?”

draco laughed softly, “i couldn’t count the number of nights we spent like this on the astronomy tower if i tried.”

“let’s be there then. let’s forget all the prophecy bullshit and who’s going to win the war. let’s be a couple of fifteen year olds again, yeah? fill me in on the last few months, sweetheart.”

“i don’t want to be fifteen again.”

you smiled internally that he was playing along with your ploy to distract him.

“alright,” you stroked his hair, “we can be sixteen in an alternate universe. we’re still together and we haven’t got our soulmate marks yet. how’s that?”

his nose wrinkled, “is that from the crap muggle book you tried getting me to read last year?”

“so you were listening to me!” you laughed.

“i always listened to you.”

“i’ll listen to you now. let’s be sixteen in an alternate universe with no war. tell me about your last three months, love.”

draco filled you in on the time you had spent apart, all the light and happy things- not the significant and dark stuff.

you were only half listening. your mind was in overdrive as you thought about how to extricate him from the mess he had been thrust into by his father’s incompetence to keep himself from getting caught by the ministry.

maybe you’d convince draco to defect and to go to dumbledore for help. dumbledore wouldn’t turn him away.

if that didn’t work, you’d force him into hiding somewhere, somehow. if it meant using the imperius curse on him, so be it. he wasn’t having his soul ripped to pieces at sixteen.

how had this happened? an hour ago you would have jumped at a chance to ridicule him, harm him - anything to make him feel the hurt you felt for three months. you had marched to him with the intent of somehow getting your soulmate changed, consequences be damned. now all you could think about was how cruel the world had been to the boy in your arms, how unfair it had been. how you were hell bent on being his safe haven and hopefully the answer to his problems.

“let me in, (y/n),” he said knocking on your temporal bone lightly, calling on an old inside joke you had of letting each other into your thoughts when lost in them.

“it’s nothing important,” you dropped a kiss on his head, laughing at the irony of how a week ago in a conversation with harry, ‘nothing important’ referred to him.

you pulled him closer to you and asked, “so what did narcissa say after that?”

as he continued his narration of a painful dinner he had had to sit through, you pushed every thought to the back of your mind.

reality was a problem for tomorrow.

right now was about draco.

draco fucking malfoy.

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