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yslkook · 3 years

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BRIGHT (2)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: you and jungkook share a moment in a bookstore. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: cursing, excessive use of pet names…bc its me

“Oh, lighten up Jeon,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “You look like someone told you that your cat died.”

“The only kitty he wants won’t give him the time of day,” Mina grins, earning herself a glare from Jungkook.

“More like I can't get her time of day because her stupid best friend has a stick up her ass,” Jungkook mutters.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this,” Mei observes, “Our baby tattoo artist pining over a girl…”

“If looks could kill, you’d be dead by now, Mei,” Yoongi says pointedly, “Now stop wasting time meddling in Jungkook’s love life, Jin will have all of our heads-”

“Love life? I don’t have a love life,” Jungkook protests, eyes adorably round.

“And that’s why you’re so broody today, honey,” Mina teases, “More so than usual at least.”

“I am not broody,” Jungkook grumbles, turning his back on his laughing coworkers and friends. He can’t help but smile at their teasing.

“Oh, lighten up, Kookie,” Mei says lightly, clapping his shoulder, “If it makes you feel any better, that girl couldn’t stop staring at you at Hobi’s birthday. And she definitely wants a piece of this.”

Jungkook ignores the raucous laughter of his friends (which only increases when Jin comes out from the backroom to add on to his suffering) and the reddening of his cheeks as he gets ready for his full day of tattoo consultations and appointments.

Jungkook’s day ends about an hour earlier than he had anticipated- his last client for the day had to reschedule due to a last minute conflict. That’s fine by him. It gives him time to stop by the bookstore a few blocks away from the tattoo parlor before it closes.

Jungkook tries his best to read at least one new book a month. He’s known the older shop owner, Jia and her young son, Jae-sung, for years now, as he had basically grown up with Jia from childhood.

He loves the quiet of the store and the immediate scent of vanilla and cedar that surrounds him as soon as he walks in. The bookstore itself has a vintage sort of feel, with dimmed lights, old shelves of mahogany and candles placed throughout the store.

Jungkook always brings croissants from the bakery nearby for Jia and little Jae-sung. Usually when he comes by, the bookstore is empty (or close to it).

Jae-sung screeches when he sees Jungkook walk in the door and immediately runs up to him, hugging his legs. Jungkook crouches, ruffling his hair fondly and Jae-sung is nearly bouncing off of the heels of his feet.

“Mommy say she have new book for you, Kookie!” Jae-sung beams, eyeing the box of croissants in Jungkook’s free hand.

“Does she?” Jungkook muses, “Your mommy always knows what kind of books I like.”

“Me too! Me too!”

“Hey, Jungkook,” Jia’s voice filters through the store as she approaches, “It’s been a while.”

“It took me a while to finish the last book. But so worth it,” He says apologetically, “I also brought croissants. Enjoy.”

“You spoil us,” Jia rolls her eyes, “The new arrivals are in the back, third aisle from the left. You know the drill.”

Jia has known Jungkook since he was a baby in diapers- she’s been his aunt’s close friend for years and years now. Jungkook likes to joke that he likes Jia more than his own aunt, and Jia always reprimands him (without really meaning it).

He thought the bookstore was empty, save for Jia and Jae-sung. But he’s clearly mistaken, when he sees a figure in an olive green sweater and black jeans perusing through the new arrivals with their bottom lip tucked between their teeth in concentration.

He recognizes them immediately and when the person raises their head in curiosity, he sees your wide eyes and a shy smile starting to pull across your lips.

You’re here, in his favorite bookstore where he feels like he’s at home. If he was looking for a sign, then this was it.

“Hi,” You say softly, waving your fingers at him, “So you like reading, huh?”

You visibly cringe and Jungkook chuckles. Your cheeks feel warm when you take him in, swirls and dots of his tattoos peeking out of his black leather jacket and beckoning you closer to him. The three hoops in his left ear glint with the light and the dangling earring on his right ear dangles with the movement of his head. His hair is tied back into a ponytail, accentuating the curve of his jaw and his soft dimples.

Your breath is stolen away when you meet his eyes, deep brown and murky, popping against the peach eyeshadow on his eyelids.

You nearly swoon on the spot before you get your bearings. Maybe he’d catch you if your knees buckled, you think dryly. How embarrassing.

“I try reading something new once a month,” Jungkook replies, pulling you out of your reverie, “And I just like the bookstore in general. Sometimes I like to just come here and hang out with Jia and Jae-sung.”

“Oh! Jia makes my favorite lavender chamomile tea. There’s nothing like it,” You say a little dreamily, “Jae-sung is a cutie. That boy can just look at you and you’d be putty in his hands. Kinda like you.”

The last bit slips out of your mouth without you meaning for it to.

“Kinda like me, huh,” Jungkook smirks, eyes glittering, “It would be fun to see if you’d be putty in my hands, wouldn’t it?”

“The world may never know,” You mumble sheepishly and avoid his eyes again, “What kind of book are you looking for?”

“The one you’re holding, baby,” Jungkook murmurs, looking past your shoulder for another copy of the same book.

“Are you looking for this book just because I’m reading it or because you’ve been genuinely eyeing it?” You ask boldly, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

“Oh, you’re funny,” Jungkook snorts, walking past you to grab the book off of the shelf.

“So I’ve been told,” Your eyes flash, “We should do a boozy book club.”

“Is it a book club if it’s just the two of us?”

“It can be whatever we want it to be,” You shrug, “Besides, don’t you wanna hang out with me?” You tilt your head and Jungkook’s resolve weakens. His heart does something funny- is this how it’s supposed to be?

“Of course I wanna hang out with you, baby,” Jungkook murmurs smoothly, “C’mon, let’s go have some of Jia’s tea. And a croissant too, if Jae hasn’t eaten them already.”

Jungkook glares at Jia the entire time that she’s making tea for both of you. He knows her sly, curious eyes and was unable to keep the surprise off of her face when you had both walked down the stairs together.

She even had the audacity to wink at him. He hopes that the family groupchat doesn’t start blowing up when Jia inevitably informs his aunt and mother about this new development.

“Kookie,” Jae-sung whispers (loudly) when you step away to use the bathroom, “Is dat your girlfriend?”

“What?” Jungkook hisses, “Who told you that?”

“My mommy say I ask you! I not know!”

“No, Jae, that’s not my girlfriend,” Jungkook mumbles, shooting Jia another death glare. She only smiles smugly at him from her spot behind the counter.

Jia leaves him alone for the most part when you return and take your seat next to him. He can still feel her eyes on you both as she washes teacups, watching like a hawk.

“These croissants are so good,” You nearly moan, “Where’d you get them?”

“There’s a bakery near the tattoo parlor,” Jungkook says, “You should come by sometime.”

“The bakery or the parlor?”

“Both?”

“I’ve only been there a few times,” You muse, “I hear you’re the best tattoo artist there. From the mouth of Hobi and Jin themselves.”

“Don’t let Mina and Mei hear you say that,” Jungkook says weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks are a little pink and you resist chuckling to yourself.

“I’ve always wanted to get a second piercing,” You trail off, “But never really committed to it.”

“What would you want to get? We do piercings, too,” Jungkook says.

“Cartilage? Industrial? I don’t know,” You shrug, sipping your tea.

“Mina usually has a good eye for that,” Jungkook admits, “Now you have more of a reason to stop by.”

“Oh, I already had a reason to stop by the parlor,” You say brazenly with a sweet smile.

“Is that so?” Jungkook says, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You hum and continue to sip your tea, wondering if he can somehow hear the loud rattling of your eager heart in your ribcage.

Conversation with him comes so easily and you don’t know when the last time you had spent this long with him was. Something always seems to interrupt you both when you eventually do find yourselves alone with each other during outings with friends. But this time, it’s just you and him tucked away in this bookstore.

The sun has long gone down and Jia was about to close the bookstore for the day. In fact, the only reason she kept it open for this long was because of you both. You apologize profusely with worried eyes when you realize the time and see Jae-sung fast asleep in his mother’s arms.

She waves you off, giving Jungkook a lingering look that you don’t understand.

“I’ll be back soon,” You promise Jia in a soft voice, so as to not wake Jae-sung, “Be well, Jia.”

She bids you both goodnight, and unbeknownst to you, she shoots Jungkook a simple text. It states: “keep her close, i like her”.

Jungkook ignores it in favor of focusing on you.

“How you getting home, baby?” Jungkook asks as you both walk up the block shoulder to shoulder.

“Hmm… I’m supposed to meet Sora for dinner but she said she’s stuck at work,” You murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself as you scroll on your phone, “But I was just on social media and it looks like she’s getting drinks with her other friends…”

You look at him with a frown tugging at your lips and your eyes wide. “Maybe it was a last minute thing,” You mumble to yourself.

“Or maybe she lied to you,” Jungkook says sharply. You only look at him in silence for a few moments with furrowed brows.

“Maybe there was a reason,” You shrug, “Why would she lie about that?”

Because she’s Sora, and she just would. But Jungkook stays silent. You don’t need to hear about how he dislikes your best friend, at least not yet. Not when you’re not ready to hear it.

“Forget about her,” Jungkook says easily, “Lemme take you home, baby.”

“I’m not riding that metal death contraption,” You say flatly, “You just got it! Like two weeks ago! You don’t even have an extra helmet, and forget a helmet, I need elbow pads and knee pads-”

“Will you relax,” Jungkook says, putting your books in the small basket he built into the front of the motorcycle.

“No, I will not relax, Jeon Jungkook!” You nearly screech, “This is so dangerous, we could both fall in the road and then what? Become roadkill for the next soccer mom van to run us both over? Death by soccer mom, what a way to go-”

“Are you done?” Jungkook says dryly.

“No, actually, I’m not done-”

“You trust me, baby?” Jungkook asks, hand on your shoulder. You can’t even properly appreciate the warmth of his large hand over your jacket.

“Of course I trust you, I don’t trust that,” You point at the motorcycle accusingly and Jungkook rolls his eyes. You can already feel your resolve weakening. He wordlessly places his own helmet over your own head and you glare at him, about to start your tirade again.

“You take mine,” Jungkook murmurs, “And hold on to me.”

“You can’t just give me your helmet, what if you fall? Or worse, get pulled over?”

“Or worse, get pulled over, are you joking-”

“Jungkook! Be serious!”

“I am being serious! You said you only live ten minutes from here, just relax. I won’t let anything happen to either of us,” Jungkook says, tongue poking the inside of his cheek.

“If anything happens, it’s your head on a platter and I’m bringing it to the tattoo parlor.”

“How can you do that if we both die?”

“Shut the fuck up,” You say, but a laugh escapes your lips. Jungkook sits on his bike and looks at you expectantly.

“C’mon, baby,” Jungkook coaxes you and you awkwardly sit behind him, making sure that your legs don’t touch his and your arms are safely away from him.

“If you sit like that, you’ll definitely fall off,” Jungkook snorts, “Wrap your arms around me.”

You hesitate, afraid of touching him like this for whatever reason. He unnerves you and you feel completely exposed like this. You’ve never really been this close to anyone, at least anyone who made you feel the way Jungkook makes you feel.

Biting the bullet, you tensely wrap your arms around his narrow waist loosely. “Good girl,” Jungkook murmurs, “Tighter, baby. I don’t bite, unless you want me to.”

Your stomach flips at his words, subconsciously wrapping your arms around his narrow waist even more tightly. Your fingers graze the hard press of his tummy over his jacket and you almost moan at how warm and strong he feels. He smells nice, like Sunday morning laundry.

“Ugh, you’re annoying-” And then you shriek as he pulls away from the road and shoots off into the night with you plastered against his backside.

“See that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jungkook says, taking the helmet off of you. He’s met with a glare but you sigh in defeat.

“No, I guess it wasn’t. But I never want you driving this hunk of death without a helmet for yourself,” You say, poking his chest.

“You should be nicer to her,” Jungkook says, taking your finger in his large hand.

“You’re right, it’s you that I should be mean to,” You roll your eyes. You wonder if Jungkook could feel your heart slamming in your chest (in fear, adrenaline and excitement) as you hung tight to him. You had refused to look up, pressing your face into his back and squeezing your eyes shut the entire way. Jungkook had only chuckled.

The heat in your eyes melts away quickly once Jungkook helps you off of the motorcycle. “Thanks for taking me home, Jungkook,” You murmur, “I’m glad I ran into you at the bookstore.”

“Any time, baby,” Jungkook says. A strand of dark hair falls from his ponytail and into his face. You reach your fingers up to thread through his hair before pushing it back behind his ear for him.

“Get home safe,” You say, with stars in your eyes, “Can I hug you?” When he nods, and before you can change your mind or convince yourself out of it, you wrap your arms around him. And before he can properly return it, you dash into your apartment building while calling out “text me when you get home!”

Hours later, when he’s in the comfort of his home, he decides that he likes the way your spicy vanilla scented perfume clings to his leather jacket.

tags: @kookdbean @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fluff #badboy jk #badboy jungkook

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bakubub · 3 years

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In which racer!kuroo is your roommate, and seems to only like it when you treat his wounds... (word count: 1.9k)

Ngl quite proud of this one!!

Warnings: 18+, a whole lot of swearing, a whole lot of blood, innuendos and implied nsfw, reader almost vomits (NOT from pregnancy chill, I know we're all scarred but its going to be just fine) and if you're squeamish perhaps skip the scene where reader stitches his wound?

Also bit of a disclaimer: I am in NO WAY a med student and literally all of my knowledge is from movies and other fics... so if you acc know what to do in this situation this may be a torturous for you :D

All due credits go to @aikk00 for this AMAZING fanart!!!!

I watch as my roommate enters the penthouse, once again scratched up and bleeding, covered in so much blood there is no possible way that it was all his- if it was he would not be standing.

I launch myself off the couch- where I was sitting for the past hour nervously waiting for his return- and slip my arm under his, supporting him as we inched towards the bathroom.

"I can do this by myself you know," he grumbles, his grimace revealing just how much pain he was actually in.

"Mhm, I'm sure you can. Just like you boiled that poor egg by yourself last week, hmm?" I say sarcastically, trying to keep my mind calm and clear, because oh my god it looks really bad this time...

"Oi, its not my fault it fuckin' exploded," he mutters, voice laden with pain.

"You put it in the microwave because 'the shitty water wasn't doing its job.' Of course it would explode," I say, gently seating him on the closed toilet seat and taking out my supplies that I unfortunately have become rather accustomed to using. He's made it a habit to get himself injured.

"Where's the injury?" I ask, setting down my half-empty bottle of antiseptic and box of bandages. He peels off his shirt, cringing at the pain it brought him as the fabric was stuck to the gash that went from his left pectoral down to the middle of his chest.

"Pissed off a bidder after winning a race, fucker took out a knife once he realised he couldn't beat me up," he huffs out, arrogance still lacing his tone even with sweat dripping down his brow as he leans the back of his head onto the tile wall behind him. His Adam's apple bobs down his bloodstained neck as he speaks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the injury at hand.

Not his blood soaked, but nevertheless well defined pectoral muscles, nor the abs that my hands occasionally brush up against and know how hard they really are, and definitely not the trail of black hairs that lead down, down, down...

"What's wrong, the view too hot to focus on the work at hand?" He asks suggestively, raising his pierced brow, even in this state.

I'm quick to reply, having gotten used to his flirtatious remarks from the second I moved into his penthouse, "nope can't even see the view from that massive head of yours. Not to mention your permanent bed head."

He huffs out a laugh, then proceeds to flinch from the pain it must have caused.

"Stop moving, idiot. You're going to exacerbate the cut!" I say, quickly grabbing a damp towel and beginning to clean up his abdomen, whilst simultaneously pressing another rag to his wound to stop the bleeding.

“At least you admit that there is a hot view,” he says in his low voice, gazing at me from his position.

I simply roll my eyes.

No falling in love. That was the deal we had made on the day he offered me a place to stay in exchange for my services as a maid and apparently, a nurse. I cook, clean and basically keep the house running while this moron goes out and acts like the idiot he is. In my defense, dorms are expensive as hell, and his penthouse is nearby. Plus, I don't have to pay rent. It's a win-win situation.

But the feelings stirring up inside my heart might just ruin the dynamic we have going on and simultaneously take out a whole lot of cash out of my pocket.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Once his skin isn't completely saturated in blood, and the wound has (thankfully) stopped bleeding, I add some antiseptic onto a make-up pad and begin to dab at his wound, earning winces and slight grunts from the massive man.

"The cut looks deep, Kuroo. You need to go to the hospital," I say, worry lacing my tone as my eyebrows crease and earn yet another huffing laugh.

"Do you want me to rot in prison for the rest of my life?"

I roll my eyes at his response, deliberately dabbing just a little harder which earns me a yelp and an attempted glare in my direction.

"First off, illegal street racing won't send you to prison for your entire life, just for like, half a year. Second, this wound needs stitches, and believe it or not, I'm not a fucking licensed medic. In fact, the only experience I have is with you!" I say, immediately regretting my choice of words as I wait for his remark.

"That's what she said," He says, chuckling at his own innuendo.

I sigh in frustration, pouring more antiseptic to make sure there was no chance of infection from whatever grimy ass knife stabbed him, and beginning to gently scrub the wound with a soft towel, so as to make sure there was no debris left in there.

"You're gonna have ta do it," he mutters, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

"I- I can't Kuroo, you can't possibly think-"

"Fine. I'll do it. Go get me a needle and thread," he states, struggling but nevertheless, sitting upright on the red stained toilet.

I stare at Kuroo in disbelief as he utters these words. Was he dumber than I thought? Does he have some sort of head injury too?

I examine his face and all I come up with is unnerving determination. I exhale out of my nose sharply, "fine, dammit. I'll sew your fucking wound shut."

I am extremely handy with a sewing needle and thread, used to really be into embroidery back when I had the time so...it should be fine.

He just shrugs, leaning his head back against the tiles and closing his eyes.

"Fucking asshole. Can't believe I'm saving your damn life," I mutter, leaving the bathroom to dig through my wardrobe for my sewing box and taking out a gold silk thread that I was saving for a special project.

Well, I guess that will never happen.

"Hey, I found some silk thread. It's literally known for its strength and durability in high temperatures, so it should work like a charm!" I say, walking back into the blood stained bathroom and trying to psych myself up.

He grunts in response. I sigh as I begin with mopping up the excess blood and sanitising the needle and thread before chucking on gloves.

I wipe the antiseptic over the wound once more, and examine it carefully.

Well, if his condition worsens, I can always knock him out and call an ambulance...

I decide, screw it, and thread the needle, pretending it was just another embroidery project.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I chant as I puncture his skin with the thin needle.

Kuroo gasps in pain, and I place a hand on his knee, telling him to suck it up and deal with it, half talking to him but also to myself.

To my surprise, he listens, stretching his head back once more and gritting his teeth.

"Don't do that, here put this in-between your teeth," I say, grabbing yet another towel and shoving it into his mouth.

He obeys as I continue to stitch. I feel my gag reflex kicking in as I think about how stitching skin feels as though I am stitching leather, it feels hard and tough while pushing the thin needle through.

Must hurt like a bitch.

Once I've completed my neat stitches down the wound, without vomiting, I tie it off as I would with any embroidery, and clean the area free of any remaining blood. After rubbing some antibacterial ointment over the gold stitches, I stick on a particularly large bandage over the wound and start tidying up.

"Thank you," Kuroo mutters, still seated on the toilet seat and practically panting for breath.

"Ah, the criminal knows his damn manners!! Now get up and get in the damn shower. You ruined my pristine bathroom!" I complain, putting the last of the materials away before walking to the door.

"Wait, I- I can't get up." I turn around and look at him incredulously as he utters his next few words, "will you... shower me?"

My eyes just about pop out of their sockets at his request. "Are you insane?! I'm not your mother, nor your wife! Call your pudding haired friend and tell him to come shower you!"

He shakes his head, a rare pleading look taking the place of his usual arrogant smirk, "Kenma's too lazy to shower himself, Y/n, please!"

I contemplated it for a moment. Sure, I've seen him naked before, accidentally of course, and so what if I have to scrub him clean. God knows he can't do it himself with that damn injury.

Fuck this shit.

"Fine, get up right now." I bark at him, leaving to change out of my blood soaked pjs into a pair of shorts and a tank.

"...I just said I can't."

---

"Ow, y/n, you're scrubbing too hard!" He complains, his exfoliating glove around my hand as I rub his toned back clean of any dead skin-cells and blood remains.

"But look how much stuff is coming off!" I say gleefully, enjoying this a little too much.

Kuroo, seated on the built-in bench in the open shower with his red boxers on, looks back to see the satisfaction dripping from my features.

"Are you secretly a sadist?" he whispers. In response, I begin to rinse off his raw back with hot water, causing him to screech like a cat.

"It burns, it burns-”

“Shut the fuck up, moron! It's 4 in the morning, you’re going to annoy our neighbours. I tried very hard to get in their good graces, and Mrs. Suzuki still doesn’t like me! She definitely thinks I’m some kind of hooker…” Kuroo laughs at this, and I can’t help but watch as his whole face brightens up from his usual emotionless expression. I find myself smiling in response.

I grab his expensive shampoo and pour some into my hands, beginning to massage it into his scalp. With wet hair, his raven strands are for once flat on his head and reach down to his defined jawline. Kuroo groans under my touch, leaning into my fingers. I snatch my hands back and pour hot water over his head.

"ARGH! Y/N!" He screams, hastily getting up and wetting me in the process.

"Ah- what are you-" I don't get to finish my question as he grabs my arm and yanks me next to him under the hot water, soaking my clothes and my hair.

"You asshole!" I screech as I reach up to pull his hair in defiance, but he only grabs my arm and hooks it around his neck, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.

Our noses brushing against one another, he mutters, "You look pretty with your hair wet and your shirt see through."

It takes me a moment to get past the compliment and to hear the perverted comment that he just uttered.

He sees my look of confusion and laughs, bends over, clutches his stomach and laughs, before bellowing in pain because of his injury.

Smiling smugly down at him as he grimaces, I force him to sit back down and continue massaging the shampoo into his hair, warning him that if he so much as moaned I would leave him in here, dripping wet and in pain.

"That's what he said," is his reply.

I smack his head in response.

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu drabbles #racer!kuroo #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #haikyu fics #haikyuu!!#kuroo x y/n #kuroo x gender neutral reader #kuroo x gn!reader #kuroo x you

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

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one more night (g.w.)

prompt: after a bad breakup, george comes back to y/n’s flat to pick up some leftover things he missed. one of these missing things was a proper goodbye.

pairings: george weasley x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ sexual content MDI (break up sex, soft sex, unprotected sex), super angsty, language, emotional break up, crying

word count: 3.7k

author’s note: something about break up sex really does it for me. like...it’s so hot and for why? anyway, here’s wonderwall. flashbacks are conveyed through italics.

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdric @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart-blog @starlightweasley @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @vogueweasley

The small cardboard box that sat next to the door was completely pathetic, sitting there in shame. The cardboard could barely hold the boxes contents, wanting to burst at its seams as it held every shred of George Weasley that was in your flat. You wanted your flat to be a George Weasley free space, but a part of you wanted to keep the magic of your relationship alive. He couldn’t miss his quidditch jumper from Hogwarts, could he? It had been years since you graduated, he wouldn’t remember that you had it, right? So, his jumper hung proudly in your closet like the status of your relationship hadn’t changed.

As you leaned against your kitchen island, sipping quietly from your coffee mug, you stared at the cardboard box, hoping that the intensity of your gaze would make the box combust into flames. But it stayed still. Unaffected. George’s things teemed out of the box, miscellaneous shirts and jumpers and trinkets piled high. You caught yourself smiling as you shook it off, reminding yourself of the status of your relationship, cringing as you did so.

The night of your break up played on a constant loop, like a movie trailer. When you woke up, it was the first thing on your mind. When your head hit the pillow, it was the last thing you thought of when you closed your eyes. It was a sick cycle.

“I can’t change my work schedule to fit yours, George. I’ve done it in the past so often and I can’t anymore. I’m finally on my own two feet and I need to keep the ball rolling,” you explain to George as you sit at his kitchen table as George paces the living room, back and forth, pulling at his red roots, trying to formulate a response. “Admit it, George. We can’t m-”

“Don’t you say what you’re going to say, (Y/N). Don’t you bloody dare,” he speaks as you sigh, rubbing your face with your hands. You didn’t want to have this conversation with George, but it was unavoidable at this point. You had just gotten a job as a full-time Healer, working in St. Mungo’s, your dream job. But the busy work schedule that you had was failing to align with George’s schedule working the joke shoppe that just seemed to do better and better every day. “We can work this out. We can’t just give up at the first sign of hardship,” George laughs as you give him a knowing look. You had been trying to make it work for a month, but things simply weren’t working. When you did see him, it would be for two hours and the two of you would be so exhausted that you would talk for five minutes before going to bed. “(Y/N), I don’t want to be the one to suggest this, but I can support us. The both of us. The joke shoppe is doing so well and with the booming business, I have enough money for me to sell this flat and we can buy a home together. Start a family. What we’ve always wanted to do!”

You rise from your chair at the thought of quitting your job. Something you had worked years and years towards and George dared to bring up the suggestion of you quitting a month and a half in. “I am not quitting,” you say very sternly, making George sigh, knowing he shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. “I have worked my ass off to get where I am right now and I’m not going to sacrifice that for the sake of our relationship!” you exclaim.

But that was wrong of you to say; it just put wood on the fire. “So how far would you go for our relationship?” George challenges, folding his arms across his chest as you gulp. “Because Godric knows everything I have done for the sake of us.”

And he was right. George shifted employees and his own work schedule so he could have an extra hour with you some nights. He would close the shops on holiday weekends, which was prime for sales, so he could take you on romantic getaways. George told you to move in with him when you struggled to find a flat of your own. He helped get you through Healer school. George put you before him in the relationship and you knew that. You felt guilty now. You shouldn’t have said what you did.

“I didn’t mean it like that, George,” you sigh, admitting defeat as George scoffs. “I meant that I can’t give up my dream. Just when I finally got it. And I don’t want you to give up yours. It’s not fair for the both of us,” you try to tell him as he shakes his head, knowing the direction the conversation has turned and he doesn’t like it one bit. So much so that you can see his eyes become glassy as he turns his head away from you so you didn’t have to watch him break down. “George, I love you. The life you have given us has been nothing short of wonderful.”

“Stop it, please,” he manages to croak out, turning towards you, his chocolate brown eyes pooling with hot tears. The sight makes your heart shatter as you suck in a shaky breath, swallowing the lump in your throat. Tears were impending. “I don’t want to let you go. I can’t let you go. Not like this,” George holds your face in his hands, brushing your cheeks with his thumbs, gazing into your eyes with so much love he could burst. You let go of a shaky sigh as you lean into his touch and close your eyes, savoring the way his large hands held your face with such ease. “I’m not letting you go, (Y/N). I’m going to love you forever and ever and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

You open your eyes and give George a sad smile as he sniffles. You reach up and press your lips to his, your kiss mixing with both of your salty tears. This love that you possessed for each other was greater than anything you have ever known. But the universe was trying to tell you that this wasn’t working. For the both of you to live the lives you always dreamed out you had to let the other go. No matter how hard it was going to be.

The two of you pull away from your sweet kiss before you speak, “I’m never going to stop loving you, George. Nothing will change that. But for now, we need to let go. For both of our sake’s.”

The memory is interrupted by the buzzer going off in your flat. “Shit,” you huff as you scurry over to the intercom. You buzzed him in as you writhed your hands in anticipation, pacing your living room floor. Your eyes dart to the box. Should you move it? Keep it close to the door? If you keep it next to the door does it say you want him out for good? What if you put it on the table? Is that more of a welcome in? Should you let him come in?

Too many thoughts clouded your mind before a gentle knock sounded on the door. Your heart froze and you stopped in the living room. “Bloody hell,” you breathe out as you look at yourself in the mirror, checking your hair and smiling to see if anything was in your teeth. “It’s just goodbye, (Y/N). Just goodbye,” you tell yourself before you walk over to the door, undoing the latches and locks.

When you swing it open, George stands there, fresh from a shower it looks like. His hair is slightly damp, hanging on his head rather than spiked up and slicked back like it usually was. Like you loved it. A gray t-shirt hung on his body, clinging on his arms, the front tucked into dark wash jeans. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he huffs with a small smile. “Work was crazy and I had to take a shower before I came over. I hope you don’t mind,” he speaks.

You gulp, trying not to blurt out how good he looked right now, the scent of his cologne making your body tingle as if it was some sick love potion. “Not at all,” you manage to say instead, thankfully. “Uh,” you tremble before looking down on the other side of the door to the box that taunted you. Picking it up from the floor, you extend it out to him. “This should be everything.”

George takes it from your arms and huffs, “Great.” He holds it in one of his arms with ease, his biceps flexing under his gray shirt as you watch, eyes hungry. This was some kind of sick joke, wasn’t it? With his other hand, he rummages through the piles, making sure he had everything. “Uh, my quidditch jumper is not in here?” he asks, but it was more of a matter of fact.

Damn it. You had been caught. You had to come up with something, quickly. “Oh! Yeah! I forgot!” you try to act surprised. “It’s, uh, I washed it. Yeah, um, it’s in my room,” you close your eyes and shake your head. “One minute. You can come in if you want,” you open the door wider as George smiles and makes his way in your flat as if it were his first time here when in reality, he did have his own set of keys. You shut the door and watch him awkwardly stand into the living room, watching you. “Alright then.”

You scurry into your bedroom and push open your closet door, shuffling through the hangers, finding George’s quidditch jumper proudly hanging in the back in it’s crimson and gold glory. Plucking it from the hanger, you sigh in defeat. So much for that endeavor. You flip around to run back into the kitchen where George was waiting, but you were startled to see that he had followed you into your bedroom. “Oh,” you jump.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles. “I didn’t know if I should have followed you or...” he trails off, awkwardly as you gulp and nod your head. “Seems like you found it.”

“Yeah, here it is,” you hand it to him, trying to savor the feeling of the knit material in your fingertips. It would be the last time you felt that material for a while. “Sorry about this mix up,” you tuck your hands into your sweatpants pockets, rocking back and forth on your heels.

George smiles and shakes his head, “No need to apologize. Honest mistake,” he speaks as you nod your head with an awkward chuckle. Yeah, honest mistake... “I’ll, uh, I’ll head out then, yeah?” he asks with raised brows.

You nod, “Sure. Yeah. Yeah.”

The two of you start to make your way out of your room, but George stops in his tracks when something catches his eye. You stop and follow his line of sight that landed on a framed picture of the two of you from one of your first holidays together. In the photograph, George held up the camera at the two of you, his arm wrapped around you tightly as you leaned into his chest, cuddling into his tall figure. The both of you were mid-laughter, the beautiful beach behind you, the sun fading the back. George smiled softly at the photo as you watched his face shift, your heart fluttering at his reaction. “That was a good holiday, wasn’t it?” he chuckles, walking towards your dresser where the frame stood proudly. It had been two weeks since the break up, but you didn’t bother taking any photos out of the frames yet. You couldn’t bare it. That would mean George was gone for good.

You smile softly and walk next to him as he gazes at the photograph, all the memories resurfacing of the beautiful beach and the small cabana George had gotten for the two of you with the graduation money he had saved up. “It was,” you recall. “It was like a dream, honestly. We were so young back then,” you say in disbelief. It was true. You were both just eighteen in that picture and now here you were, twenty two, post-break up. The two of you had grown up so much since that holiday. You wish you could jump through the picture and tell your younger self to relish in every moment you had with George because each moment was beautiful.

George laughs, “We look so young. Merlin...” The two of you chuckle at the photo. “We were so happy,” he sighs before looking at you. You don’t dare peel your eyes from the photograph, knowing that if you look at him right now, you’d melt and give into him. “Look at me please,” he speaks just above a whisper.

Shaking your head, you speak, “I can’t, Georgie. I can’t bear it.”

His heart flutters at your nickname for him. “I want to take a look at your eyes. A good look. One last time and I promise I’ll go.” George reaches out and touches your hand gently, as if you were made of glass and the slightest touch would break you. “(Y/N).”

With a gulp and mustering up all your courage, you turn your gaze to his and your heart melts at the sight. If a look could speak. His eyes were so sad, but filled with so much longing and love and adoration. The face you loved so much, full of so much tenderness, staring down at you. He made you feel like you were the only person who mattered. Because to George, you were.

The two of you are just looking at each other, absorbing each other’s features as much as possible before one of you dares to speak up. Slowly, George reaches up and cups your face, like you were so used to. “George,” you sigh out breathlessly as you lean into his touch, tears welling up in your eyes. You can’t believe you had to let him go. “I just want to be happy again. With you.”

George gives you a sad smile, “I do too, angel. More than anything. It’s my only wish. Even if it’s just for another day.”

His words make the wheels start churning in your head as you lick your lips before saying, “Then let us have one more day. One more night together. I don’t care if it’s temporary. I just want one last memory with you, Georgie.”

George’s eyes search yours as you desperately hold onto him, needing him, wanting him, yearning for him. George brings your face to his, connecting your lips in a kiss that was unlike any other kiss you’ve ever had. It made the hair on your neck stand up. Your arms wrap around his neck as his wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The kiss is full of urgency and desire, as if you didn’t take each other right now, there wouldn’t be another opportunity for this.

You break apart from the kiss to pull George’s shirt over his head as he does the same to you only to reconnect your kiss. His lips move against yours, hungrily, passionately as you moan gently into his mouth. George grabs your thighs and hoists you up as you wrap your legs around his torso as he walks over to the bed, laying you down gently, kissing your lips, neck, and collarbones. His lips leave trails of wet kisses as you run your finger through his still damp hair, tugging on it gently. “Please, George, please,” you whine as he kisses the valley between your breasts.

He pulls himself away from your chest to kiss your lips again. “Anything you want, angel. Say the word and I’m all yours,” he tells you, brushing your hair gently. You grab his face and pull him down to connect your lips again, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you arch your back, pushing your chest into his. His tongue massages yours as his hands unclasp your bra, throwing it to the floor.

“I want you to make love to me,” you mumble against his mouth as George smiles softly, his heart fluttering. “I want you to make love to me, Georgie. I want to remember this night for the rest of my life.”

“Anything, angel. Anything you want,” he repeats himself as you both breathily laugh, reconnecting your lips, stripping the other of their remaining clothes. Soon enough, the two of you are naked and George breathes out, “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You connect your lips again before you place kisses along George’s jawline as he hovers over you, lining himself up to your entrance, pulling your legs farther open as you wrap them around his torso. George runs the tip of his hard dick up your wet pussy as you bite down on your lip with a sharp inhale. “Please, baby, please,” you beg him which only makes George obey you, pushing his whole length into your aching core as you both moan out in satisfaction. He fills you up in a way that is so familiar and delightful as you dig your nails into his biceps. “Shit,” you moan out as George starts to move, thrusting in and out of you slowly.

“Fucking hell,” George groans out. “You feel fucking incredible,” he breathes out, his hips moving smoothly against yours, pumping his hard cock in and out as your walls tighten around him. “You like that, baby?”

With a whimper, you moan out, “I love it, baby. Keep going, don’t stop. I love the way you fuck me. Fuck, George.” George continues to thrust in and out, picking up his pace, going in deeper as your eyes flutter shut. Your nails dig deeper into his shoulder as you groan, “Right there, baby, right there. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Your praise makes George push your legs open wider so he can push impossibly deeper into you, before hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder, making the both of you cry out in euphoria. “Shit, I love the way you feel wrapped around me. Say my name, baby,” George groans.

“Oh, George, fuck, baby,” you moan out louder, head tossed back against your sheets as George buries his face in your neck as you hold onto him. He pounds into you deeper as you are panting in a state of nirvana. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” you dig your nails into George’s flesh as he presses love bites into your neck.

He looks at you and speaks, “Look at me, angel. I want you to cum looking into my eyes, baby.” You peel your eyes open and look into his brown eyes, dark with a mixture of lust and love. “I love you, angel.”

As he continues to thrust, you feel the familiar knotting feeling in your stomach as your jaw drops. “I love you,” you breathe out, looking deep into George’s eyes. “I love you so much, baby. I love you, I love you.”

“I love you, I love you,” George repeats as you reach your climax, crying out his name in pleasure, head rolling back as you clutch the sheets, coming all over his dick. Shortly after, George finishes, moaning out your name, the both of you a symphony of moans and heavy breathing.

The two of you come down from your highs as he pulls out and lays on the bed next to you, chests heavy with the rise and fall of incoming and outgoing breaths. You run your fingers through your hair before rolling onto your side to face George who stares at the ceiling. A small smile is on your lips as you place a hand on George’s chest. He turn his gaze to you and a toothy grin is on your face as you giggle, George pulling you close to him with a breathy chuckle. He places a kiss to your temple. The two of you cuddle next to each other, naked underneath your sheets, happy to be resting in each other’s arms.

That is until George speaks, “You didn’t really wash my jumper did you? You were trying to keep it in hopes I didn’t notice, weren’t you?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you roll your eyes. “You were!”

You sit up, “I was not!”

George laughs, “You cheeky little thing! You were trying to steal my clothes from me after we broke up!”

The two of you are in a fit of laughs, laying next to each other, enjoying the feeling of skin on skin next to each other. You rest your head on George’s chest as he rubs your back. “I wish we could be this happy all the time,” you confess as George sighs, wishing the same thing. But the two of you knew that this wasn’t working anymore. The break up was for the best.

“I do too, my love,” he agrees. “But I don’t want to focus on what we wish could happen. Let’s just enjoy tonight while we have it, okay?” he speaks as you nod, cuddling further into his touch. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Minutes later, the two of you had fallen asleep, entangled in each others arms, the last words on your lips being confessions of love.

The morning comes as quickly as you fell asleep. You stretch your arms out and pat the area of the bed next to you, searching for George. But you quickly realize that your George wasn’t there.

In his place was a piece of parchment that had scribbled onto it, I didn’t want to leave before you woke up, but work calls sadly. Thank you for last night. It was the best night of my life. I love you, (Y/N). I always have and I always will. That will never change. You are my angel. Love always, Your George. P.S. You can keep the jumper. It looked better on you anyway.

A few feet away from the note was the jumper on the edge of the bed, laid out in it’s glory as a small smile made its way onto your face. You reach over and pull the jumper onto your naked body, inhaling the fabric that smelt so much of George, making your heart flutter. “Maybe someday,” you whisper. “Maybe someday, my love.”

#Fred and George #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader imagine #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george wealsey x fem #george weasley x fem #george weasley x fem! reader #george weasley x fem reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut #harry imagine #george weasley smut

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revenant-dumpster-fire · 3 years

Text

Warm (Revenant x Reader)

Theme: Reader comforts Revenant after a somewhat brutal loss in a duos match as Revenant becomes concerned with his image.

Warnings: Mentions of mania, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, threats of violence, graphically described violence, pain, sharp objects, borderline sexual fluff.

Reader's Notes: Revenant (Apex Legends) x Reader, reader is non-gendered in this chapter, this is getting romantic but hasn't crossed the line quite yet, reader will eventually have to be gendered (but I'll hold off as long as possible).

Writing Notes: Compliments give me fuel. Lot of development this chapter, more characters. I feel like this is increasingly revealing of who I am as a person, so I'm glad I'm anonymous.

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The Apex Games are brutal. It's a miracle these people can be suspended in death boxes and sewn or pieced back together after what happens to them. You've heard murmurs that some of the visual brutality is simulated by an AI for the cameras while the much less damaged person is imprisoned in a deathbox, but you are not so sure of that. It looks too real, and the Legends seem way too accustomed to pain and morbid destruction for it not to be. You are desensitized to a lot of gore and snuff yourself, but you've come to know the Legends just well enough to shudder when they are disemboweled in front of you. When you first started volunteering to help, you remembered being endlessly relieved the first time you saw them all return from the medical ward.

Even though you know they will likely be fine, you whimper as Bloodhound takes an apparently fatal blow from the favorites for this duos match: Loba and Bangalore. It isn't very often that random chance creates such an iconic duos pair, but it's happening today and the cameras are loving it. The cameras have been so fixated on these two that you haven't seen night or day out of Revenant. According to the trackers on the screen, Revenant is still in the game, but his teammate--Fuse--was knocked out of the match early on. Knowing those two, they likely agreed to drop hot--in an area with lots of combatants. While it's a good way to get kills, it's also an ideal way to get killed. From previous matches, you have the impression Revenant will drop hot if his teammate or teammates agree, but he won't do so otherwise. Fuse is absolutely the type to agree to dropping hot. You worry for Fuse even though you are certain he will be back tomorrow or soon thereafter, ready for more.

Loba and Bangalore have used their combined skills to gather long-range sniper weapons and considerable kills so far this match. Bangalore is able to use her abilities to create confusion and draw combatants out from cover, and Loba could create or close distances with her warp band while also gathering excessive amounts of high-level weaponry, mods, and armor to make them all the more terrifying. They pulled ahead early in the game, and now they feel unstoppable. The cameras watch as they run across Olympus' beautifully groomed grass towards the next team to victimize.

You feel like you're not doing what you should be doing. Did Revenant really just want you to watch the match today? Shouldn't you do something helpful?

You get yourself to the edge of the bed, hop up, and start to make it. It was so perfect when you hopped in yesterday, you want to try to make it equally as perfect. Your legs no longer hurt, and you feel well-rested despite Revenant's creepily watchful eyes. You take a deep breath, stretch backwards, and get to making the bed. You will have to go to your volunteer bunk and change soon. You wonder if you will have to move out of the volunteer area--even though it's small and cramped, it's been your home for a few years now. Your coworkers feel more like roommates, varying from cool but introverted to outgoing but overbearing. You like all of them, and you have the unusual standing as one of the longest-running volunteers, staying through off and on seasons to keep things functioning. You don't want to lose them, or the only home you've known for a few years.

Gunshots ring out on the television, Loba and Bangalore are taking shots at another team fight from afar. You see the symbol for Lifeline pop up as knocked, then eliminated. Caustic's name pops up next. Finally, Revenant came up as knocked, but not eliminated. You can't help but panic just a little, but Revenant apparently had a self-revive and is moving again, fleeing the area as Loba gives vicious chase trying to make up the distance from sniping. Revenant is in bad shape, he has been fighting solo for a while, and Loba knows he is practically a free kill at this point. You're afraid this is going to turn into another Loba versus Revenant fight, a favorite of the audience due to how ruthless they both are with each other. You don't like them fighting. You don't like seeing Loba be nearly beheaded or gutted, and you don't like seeing Revenant be slowly but surely tortured to death. There is no alternative ending with those two. It's always violent, and Revenant doesn't stand much of a chance at this rate. He clearly knows that.

You stare at the television breathlessly, trying to make the bed without looking away. Loba is hunting, and Revenant is unable to keep enough distance. In a last gambit, Revenant manages to break line of sight, launching his silencer into the doorway of a bunker and then intentionally running into the opposing bunker. Loba falls for it, as she makes an immediate path for the bunker with the silencer, opting to take the back door. It buys Revenant enough time to use a Pheonix Kit, a piece of equipment that restores his shields and health completely for a much fairer fight.

Hell is about to break loose.

You plop down on the bench having finished the bed, unable to look away. Loba and Revenant meet eyes from within each bunker through the small windows on each side. Loba looks infuriated at his newly rejuvenated state. Revenant's look is too intense to be smug, it truly is a mechanical malice undescribable by any other terminology. These two loathe each other. The spectators roar in excitement at another bloodbath between the lovely but deadly master thief and her mechanical antagonist, the commentators giving a short review of the last time these two met on the battlefield.

Revenant, now unafraid of the odds, immediately dashes to close the gap between their bunkers. Loba flings her warp band in his direction, landing behind him, and immediately getting two Mastiff slugs in his back. You cringe at the sight. Revenant turns to meet her fire with his Volt, but Bangalore's lobbed smokescreen fills the area before his shots meet. Bangalore had been lagging behind Loba, but she was close enough now to take shots again. You hear Loba's Mastiff take a number of more shots in the smokescreen, the Volt returning fire. Bangalore calls in her Rolling Thunder, cascading aerial bombardment all throughout the smokescreen. Revenant manages to break free of the now-fading smokescreen, trying to escape the explosives, but it was clearly Bangalore's intent for him to do so. With her well-equipped Longbow, she manages to snipe Revenant, knocking him to his knees.

Loba was soon looming over him, waiting for the camera to catch up. The crowd chants and screeches waiting for the gore. There are no microphones on the Legends themselves, but you can tell that Revenant is cursing her as she comes over to finish him. You wince, you don't want to watch this, but you feel you have to.

Loba kicks his head hard enough to knock out any human opponent, sending him to the ground. His mask is cracked open, revealing the copper lining underneath and the wiring for his optics. He stays grounded, glaring at her with an unspeakably vicious hatred. He faces his demise with just as much malice as he had moments earlier, perhaps even more. She goes in for a direct stomp, plunging the five-inch tall heel of her shoe into and through Revenant's left optic. You grimace at the horror of it, wanting to cover your face to escape the imagery. Revenant's body lurches backwards and writhes in pain, grabbing aimlessly at his face, screaming so loudly that the drone camera picks it up as his vocalizations crack and become inundated with static.

Revenant isn't eliminated. Revenant is treated differently than the human and more finite combatants. His deaths are of no consequence, so he isn't protected from them. He can just come back, over and over. So the cameras roll and he's left to suffer whenever it makes for better television. The most bloodthirsty fans have always loved this double-standard, but you are beginning to revile it more by the moment.

Loba spits on him, taking a moment to parade to the crowd her triumphant moment. Revenant's last remaining optic is dimming uncontrollably, but is still locked on her when she returns to finish the job. They lock eyes for a moment. You don't know the details--nobody does--but it's clear they have some kind of history where all the hatred stems from. Revenant looks away in acceptance of his defeat, and his neck is immediately clamped down on by her heels. With a single twist of her leg, the cracking noise of his head being forcibly freed from his torso rings out. You want to vomit.

Revenant is only now considered eliminated, his husk of a chassis lying nearly in two pieces, his head twisted perpendicular to his torso. The crowd is absolutely ablaze. Loba reaches down, tearing the scarf off his head and holding it triumphantly in the air, looking as if she just scalped her kill. Bangalore shies away from the cameras herself, she's clearly ready to move on. Loba revels in the violence, just like Revenant does, but there is something especially malicious between them.

You feel the nausea taking hold even stronger. Revenant is someone you know now. He's shown you kindness, and you've become very fond of him. You can't say you know him extremely well, granted, but well enough to feel empathy for his pain. Watching him essentially have his skull broken, eye gouged, and neck severed is a lot to take. You could literally see the excruciating pain in his body language when his eye was stomped out. They shouldn't allow it. The moment a human life is in danger they get deathboxed. Only now that Revenant's body is dead and vacated of all living code, as well as the audience thoroughly satiated, does Revenant's corpse get deathboxed. He managed to fight his team all the way to seventh place alone. Loba and Bangalore continue on, the cameras lovingly cataloging their sweep.

You get up and turn off the television, sheepishly use your new ID to leave the room, and head to the volunteer bunks. It's the middle of the day, so nobody is around. A note on your bunk reads "Worried about you! Let me know when you get back. -Sherry". You scribble back, "Sorry Sherry, had a special request I had to run, need to talk later. Text me." and place it on her bunk. Sherry is the de facto leader of the volunteers, here since day one of season one. You know each other well. She doesn't pry often, but disappearing for a night is really out of character for you, so you don't mind it this once. She will know if you're allowed to stay in the volunteer bunks or not. You gather your things, just in case, and haul them to Revenant's room. You only have a single duffel bag of clothes and toiletries to your name. It has been that way since you found yourself on the streets years ago. It's easy enough to carry, but some amount of sadness still lingers in you as you haul your only worldly possessions in a single bag. The Apex Games gives you year-round work in exchange for a place to live rent-free. The Legends who tip well basically keep you at a decent wage for the hours. So despite not having much to your name in terms of assets, you now have a bank account with enough value to move on if absolutely necessary.

You use the badge to open Revenant's door. It dings satisfactorily, and you dump your bag on the floor. You're not leaving the area until he's back. You already decided. You're in some stage of denial after watching him die, but simultaneously you cannot be in denial if he always comes back. You shake your head, the nausea fights for its throne in your gut. You grab a change of clothes out of the bag and head to the bathroom in the far left corner of the room.

As you enter, you see a mostly untouched bathroom, spare for a strangely out-of-place comb, shaving cream, an old-fashioned razor blade, and the mirror smeared opaque with dried suds--likely from the shaving cream. None of those items make sense. Not a single one. Why was the mirror so filthy? Why did a simulacrum have shaving or hair brushing tools? You consider that it might be a coping mechanism, but that doesn't explain the mirror. Whatever, you'll clean it in a second. No need to make a big deal out of it all.

Halfway through changing, you lose your battle with nausea. You don't have anything in your stomach, a fact you quickly realize as you lurch over the toilet. Just stomach acid. What a violent and terrible death. You know he feels just as a human does, it's not his fault he isn't as fragile. It's so unfair. You stand tall, having expelled the worst of it. You finish putting on your "I'm not feeling it" shirt, and make a quick orbit to the duffel and back, picking up your toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash. You clean out your mouth thoroughly, trying to fight off the taste of acid.

You finish up, leaving your oral care items behind to take your dirty clothes to the laundry room and grab some mirror cleaning supplies while there. Since you know how to fully clean down a room, you figure it is within your ability to completely clean Revenant's room. Maybe Fuse's too, these cleans tend to be quick and efficient when you perform them.

• • • •

"Hey, oh my gosh, where were you last night?" The text comes in as you're hauling the cleaning supplies to Fuse's room. It's early afternoon, you'll be done with this before it even begins to get dark.

"Hey, sorry, I had a special request. I didn't mean to worry anyone. I'm cleaning Fuse's room now." You text back, hoping Sherry will meet you here and help wrap up even faster.

"OMW" The text comes in only moments after.

After a few minutes, you hear Fuse's door open. Sherry is a petite blonde woman in her early twenties. Despite her longer, curly hair, she is otherwise not too dissimilar looking from Wattson, her favorite Legend. They have a good relationship apparently, Wattson regularly jokingly adding "request for mon Sherry" to her requests, a play on "mon cherie" in French.

"I didn't see a request for Fuse to have his room cleaned, did you delete it from the system?" Sherry was always on-task.

"Oh, sorry, no, I kinda needed something to do." You look up from changing the bed sheets, "Do you mind giving me a hand?"

"Sure, but there are tons of requests you could have taken, why make one up?" She walks to the opposite side of the bed, nabs the sheet, and looks up, locking sights on your ID.

Her shock is immediate and silent. You notice that she has noticed.

"How did you get that..." She trails off, her head clearly running at max capacity with various theories.

"Revenant gave it to me." You answer blankly. "I don't know what to do."

Sherry stares, her expression becoming increasingly appalled and concerned.

"What... what happened last night? You didn't like... "earn" that, right? I mean, you didn't trade for it, did you?" Her expression grimaces further. "Does he even have the parts for that...?"

You suddenly realize what she's saying, and wave your hands to snap her attention.

"No! Nothing like that! He sees me so often he wanted a personal lackey instead." You see her expression soften for a moment before it snaps back.

"Then where were you last night?"

"Wha--?"

"You heard me, where were you then?"

You stare at the floor, unsure if you can lie so blatantly to her. She stares at you for a moment.

"One moment you're depressed, then next thing I know you're manic, then you disappear for a day and a half. Is this some kind of new suicide plot you have? Seduce a murder robot?" She seems genuinely worried.

"I promise it's not like that! I was exhausted! I accidentally fell asleep when I brought him water--"

"Why did nobody call the paramedics? If you passed out, you should have been given a health check! Why didn't that robot call anyone?" She genuinely cared about you, she was a good friend, through and through.

"Uh, well, I kinda slept in his bed."

Her face went from worry to one of shock and morbid concern. Her knees buckled for a moment and rectified themselves as she cartoon-ishly tried to process her thoughts.

"You see, I guess he's taken a liking to me, and he saw how tired I was, so--"

"So you slept with him just so you could get a break? You should have just asked for time off! You never take it! I would have given it to you!" She was clearly upset.

"It didn't happen like that!" She had a tendency to catastrophically think, so her mind was already five steps ahead of you in the worst possible timeline. If you could stop it now, hopefully it wouldn't continue.

"Wait, why are we changing Fuse's sheets? How many robots and people have you slept with?!" she dropped the sheets at a complete loss. Too late to stop her mental train, it was already off the rails and burning in a ditch.

"Sherry! Pay attention! I didn't do anything with anybody. I just passed out in Revenant's bed, and he decided not to kill me but promote me instead because he's Revenant and he does what he wants, even when it makes no sense to anybody. I didn't even see Fuse yesterday, I just figured I'd clean his room since both him and Revenant took a heck of a loss today." You didn't often get loud, so when you did it tended to garner attention.

Sherry sighed.

"Yeah, that sounds more like the truth than my insane theory." She rests her face in her palms for a moment. "So, uh, I guess you and Revenant are friends now?"

"Subordinate or lackey is probably a better term, but he actually is nice to me! Aside from all the threats..." You trail off, wondering if he means it or if he simply is keeping up his persona.

"Well, congratulations on becoming the homicidal robot's plaything?" She wasn't wrong. Actually, her term was probably more accurate. "Please don't get murdered. I didn't get you out of that homeless shelter just to deliver you into the hands of a bloodthirsty robot with a fascination for evisceration. I'll feel so bad if you die..." She trails off, catastrophic thoughts ablaze. "Just quit!" She perks up with her solution.

"He's not going to kill me, and if he does, it's not your fault. I'm choosing to do this."

She sighs, and starts making the bed with clean sheets, unsure of how to argue, or if the argument is worthwhile.

Sherry was the one you reached out to when you heard that you could work for the Apex Games in return for a bed, bathroom, food, and basic healthcare. She picked you up at the homeless shelter, and helped forge some fake credentials on your resumé at the time. She cleared you herself, pretending as if she never met you before and calling your previous "boss" who was actually just a very confused telemarketer, resulting in getting you the place and position you have now. You've always thought she's an upstanding person; her maternal instincts sometimes getting in the way of her letting people make their own choices freely though. She felt like an older sister to you.

"Please tell me you're at least getting paid. Without the tips from the other Legends, how are you going to keep saving up?" She asked weakly, finishing up by fluffing the pillows.

"Uh, well, I haven't asked yet... I actually meant to ask if I have a room still." You answered, a bit dumbfounded you hadn't considered that before.

"What?! Did you think this through at all?" She burst, but quickly softened, "Of course you still have a room, there should be a door in the back of every Legend's room with the same kind of bunks as we have. Those are for you special folks. It has a bathroom and everything."

"Ah, good, I kinda wish I could stay with you guys, but..."

"...but your new robot-boyfriend is calling you?" She breaks her melancholy with ruthless teasing, just like an older sister. "Yeah, I'll need the space for a new volunteer, definitely."

"I figured as much. Always running on short-handed here." You're a little relieved the choice is made for you.

"So, I'm guessing you now have all Revenant requests, now and forever?" She chuckles a bit. "You somehow take the biggest demotion and consider it a promotion. I can't believe you like dealing with that guy."

You banter back and fourth, finishing up Fuse's room. It'll be nice for him to come back to a clean room, especially considering how his match went that morning. Sherry promises to come around this part of the building more to keep an eye on you, swearing she will kick Revenant's ass if he does "whatever murder-bots do". You go your separate ways, laughing at each other's stupid quips.

• • • •

There is a door at the back of the room. Sherry was right. It is intentionally made to camouflage into the wall, as well as the scanner that opens it. You hold your ID up to it, hear the positive chirp, and the door slides open to reveal a nice small room and bathroom. It's a private bedroom embedded within Revenant's. The door now freely slides like a pocket door to open and close, apparently you only need to activate it once to get access. A nice little bed, a nice little dresser, and a nice little bathroom! It reminds you of a super tiny hotel room, everything is compact but still a notable step up from shared bunks. You breathe deeply, inhaling the smell of a fresh new room. You haul your duffel bag in and toss it into a little cubby under the mattress, and boom, you're moved in! So easy!

Revenant still isn't back yet though. You wonder how long it will take for his new chassis to activate and return here. You wish so badly to know how he is doing, but it is impossible to know. You grabbed some snacks from the kitchen alongside dinner with Sherry, so you have food to stress-binge on if necessary. You figure laying down for the night can't hurt. So you hit the lights in Revenant's room, leaving it to only be lit by the rising moonlight overhead through the skylight. You sneak into your little cubby of a room, flipping the lights off as you slide the door shut behind you. You don't have any skylight, in fact, your ceiling was about 6 feet or so shorter than his, making it much more average. Granted, his room is massive, but you are happy with your tiny private closet. It is so cool.

You fall back in the bed. Soft as can be. Same as his.

Sleep takes you very quickly.

• • • •

You wake up to an inhuman screeching. You jolt up, making yourself panic further as you check your surroundings and recall where you are. You're alone in the little bedroom, the screaming is from the other side of the door, in Revenant's main room. It echoes in a uncanny valley between human despair and mechanical detune. You leap out of bed and rush to open the door to see what is wrong.

The door slides open and you see Revenant, his mask and jaw tilting in opposite directions to replicate an open mouth, revealing a disturbingly black void where his mouth would be, no headscarf, howling in some kind of agony under the moonlight. It sounds so sad, so sorrowful. The pocket door clicks as it reaches its full open position, and Revenant's eyes lock on as soon as the sound is registered. His instincts are instantaneous. His howl slowly fades as he uses up what's left in his artificial lungs, his eyes never breaking from yours. The sorrow leaves him, his jaw slowly closes, and his stature returns for a moment.

"Are you okay?!" You ask him.

He hides is face and his body motions like a person who is sobbing for a few moments, but he doesn't. He couldn't even if he wanted. He regains himself quickly, walking up to you blankly.

"Hey, uh, are you oka--?"

"Keep me warm, skinsuit." His voice shakes as he pulls you into him in an embrace.

He is extremely cold, but his metal parts start to sap your body heat immediately. He is alive. He is new, but alive. You wrap your arms around his small abdomen, slipping under the pistons that hold up his large torso. You squeeze harder than you mean to, giving away that you are genuinely worried about him.

"I thought you left." He admits shakily, still not wholly able to hide his emotions. "I didn't..." He trails off. He places his hand on your head, messing with your hair a bit, until you gaze up at him. He looks down at you in the eye and you see something familiar. Disbelief. "You stayed."

You don't have words. Words mean nothing anyway in moments like this. You squeeze him tighter and he winces a little. You realize his abdomen is probably the least protected area of his body, and even you might be able to hurt him with the wrong touch. You lean forward and bury your face into it anyway, you're pretty sure you can feel a pouch through the leather skin that acts as a stomach receptacle, but you're not sure.

Revenant's body shakes a little like he cannot hold back tears, but as a simulacrum, he has none. You hear a sorrowful moan instead that is quickly stifled. Despite his persona, he has a very human personality.

"Come, keep me warm." He pulls you away for a moment so he can move again, then grabs your wrist and pulls you to the bed. The bed he never used. "It's easier with insulation." He rips the blanket off of it, wrapping it around you both in one sweeping movement, and sitting on the edge, pulling you down with him.

Your face flushes hot red. This is unlike him. He notices, and you swear you see a little bit of a pink glow on him too. He definitely had been flush during his stunt on live TV before joining the games. Insane to think they built that functionality into a mask. He grunts and breaks eye contact.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm just cold." He pulls you into his lap before you can say anything in response. "I have an easier time cooling down with fans than I do heating up. I'd have to run really stressful code to do that and using you is so much easier."

He redirects you to face away from him, and as soon as you do he sucks you in as close to him as you can. You're practically inside of his giant, looming frame. His breath rattles a little in his artificial lung pumps. His hands grapple around your hands while holding the blanket taut, holding them in balled fists and trading his cold for your heat. His vocalizer sounds as if it's giving a deep growl, closer to a purr, almost too soft to be heard, but not quite.

His new chassis smells a little more like plastics, metal shavings, and leather than the previous one, which had been muddled with the scent of dirt, grass, and polish. It's so cold, he must have only just made it inside. You wonder how far he had to run to get back here.

His head lowers to rest his face into your shoulder. You rest your head back on his. For a moment, this creature is just the same as you. Human.

He stays there, humming and purring and enjoying the moment. His body is no longer cold at all, he is now reflecting your heat back at you and feels warm himself. You carefully turn your head and push your face into the side of his mask where his ears would be. His head perks up a little for a moment, just long enough to catch his dumbfounded expression and pinkening cheekbones before his face retreats into your shoulder again. He squeezes you close, grappling your fists as if to never let go.

You sit there for a while, until finally you feel his cooling fans click to life. He lifts his head off your shoulder.

"Thank you." He says as he releases you. He looks away, clearly trying to hide from your gaze. You don't get up. You keep staring in his direction, hoping he will give in and turn to you. But you are both stubborn.

After a long while, you stand up in surrender, but place your hand on his unclothed head, petting it once, just for good measure. His hand rises to cover his face.

"Please go back to bed, I'm sorry for scaring you." He says in an abnormally low baritone, trying to hide himself further.

You surrender. It isn't worth prying away his façade when he isn't ready. He had already shown different colors than he did most of the time. This was scary, but in an unexplored territory sort of way. You weren't giving this exploration up after a single expedition. So it is best to rest up and not overextend.

You retreat into your little closet of a room, sliding the door gently shut. The moment it shuts completely, you hear Revenant move around rapidly. He's normally so silent. You recline into your bed, happy to be as warm as you are. You fall asleep almost instantly.

• • • •

You wake up, no idea what time it is. The room doesn't have a clock, maybe a bit of an oversight on the decorator's part. You get up, lurk over to the bathroom, and start performing your daily routine. Brush the teeth immediately, get the gross overnight flavor out of it. Strip and shower, thankfully there are already towels in the bathroom. Brush your hair while still damp after trying to get it as dry as possible with your towel. Deodorant. Grab your clothes. You put on something a bit nicer than yesterday. Finally, you're ready for whatever.

You waltz over, and knock on the door to make sure he won't be startled.

Instead, you hear a surprised grunt, scraping metal, and hushed curses against the door. You quickly go to open it, thinking he may be hurt, but the door is locked. You hesitate, dumbfounded. The Legends can lock people in like prisoners if they want to. Your attention snaps back as you hear the lock disengage, and the door flies open before you can move it. Revenant faces you, somehow looking a little disheveled.

"Were you outside my door the entire night...?" You ask, still fairly shocked.

"Doesn't matter." He absolutely was. He spoke hurriedly, potentially a little embarrassed. But he recovers his slow speaking pace quickly. "I should have just let myself in, I feel like I missed a great episode. Do you know what you said last night? Some pretty exciting gibberish."

"So you were against the door all night."

"Dammit, skinsuit!" He throws his arms up and turns away from you, towering over the doorway too short for him to enter comfortably. "You should have just slept out here. You know I get bored."

"I didn't think you wanted me to, you acted like you didn't."

"Well, I didn't really care!" He cared immensely, apparently. "I just needed something entertaining to keep my mind off yesterday." He crossed his arms, and began to meander over to the computer desk.

"I'm sorry, I wish you had told me."

"I was in a bad mood, just forget about it. It's fine." He tapped away at the computer, letting out a depressed sigh. "That scene from yesterday has all of Loba's fans riled up. They're posting it everywhere." He covers his face with his hands for a moment, motioning in embarrassment. "I can't believe I let that happen. I would have been better off letting Caustic gas me earlier."

"You were outnumbered, you did the best--"

"I'm getting my damn scarf back." He refused your comforting words, flinging himself to his feet and trudging out the door in a huff. You go to follow, but he whirls around, pointing straight to you, locking you in a glare. "You stay away from Loba, understand?"

He pauses, waiting to hear your reply.

"Uh, okay, I'll try to stay away from her."

While not an entirely satisfactory answer, Revenant whips back and disappears from sight. You sigh aloud. If those two have some kind of long-running hatred for each other, it would probably be best if you didn't get in the middle of it.

You peer over to the computer. He's right, Loba standing over his dead chassis holding up the scarf is everywhere. Loba fans are absolutely enamored by the triumphant image. Revenant fans openly mourn, swearing revenge. Loba and Bangalore apparently took the win, finally fighting down the second place team of Wattson and Rampart. Sherry will be miffed that Wattson had the spotlight and win taken from her. Although, now knowing you're on team Revenant, she probably will spare you any of her rants.

You stare at the image. It makes you overwhelmingly sad. Right before that snapshot was taken, Revenant was in unspeakable pain. The scream you heard on the broadcast echos in your head. It was one born of pain: strong, violent, and sharp until the static began to overwhelm it. The screeches you woke up to last night were not the same. They were mournful: hollow, airy, and almost melodic in their melancholy. Revenant can feel great pain, but clearly has some kind of appreciation for warmth and a kindly embrace. Why didn't others see that? Why does he have to suffer so much more, just because he is a simulacrum?

You close the browser. It messes with you. The imagery makes you upset. You feel you might vomit again if you're not careful.

You're snap back to attention at a commotion outside in the hallway. You peer out in the general direction of the other Legends' rooms.

"Fuck. You." Revenant's voice is so low it could rattle someone's bones. Fuse is standing in front of him, but Revenant is speaking beyond him to Loba, holding the scarf.

"It's my trophy. I'm a master thief, I don't just give things back." Loba proudly holds it in front of her face.

Fuse tries to keep Revenant at a fair distance from her, but Loba is standing her ground, completely unafraid.

"Woah now, come on, we don't need to settle this here and now." Fuse is attempting to keep the peace.

Revenant's growls can be heard from down the hallway, a number of volunteers have stopped to avoid getting too close, and a couple Legends are peering out their doors. The extra attention is displeasing to Revenant.

"Fine, but you will regret this." He starts to back off, prepared to fight another day, but Loba is relentless.

"Not if you want anything from me. Including that source code." Only now is she content to click her heels and turn away, Revenant suddenly looking like he lost the fight.

"Geeze, mate, do you really have to be so aggressive all the time?" Fuse gasps in a sigh of relief, addressing Revenant. "And I think I come on strong--you're a whole 'nother level!" He is already beaming a smile from under his moustache again, chuckling at his own joke.

Revenant shoots him a scowl for a moment, then turns back to you and begins to come back to the room, scarfless.

Fuse keeps pace with him as you retreat back inside, not sure if you should stay out of their way or not. You instinctively dive in behind the bed, staying low as not to be seen. You hear them come around the corner.

"Wait a minute, mate, I wanted to apologize." Revenant is already in the room, turning around to face Fuse who is standing in the doorway. You stay hidden behind the bed, nearly on the floor, listening in on their conversation. "That wasn't my best work out there yesterday. I feel like if I had been there, maybe you wouldn't have, uh..." He trailed off, his point was clear. "Listen, I'll talk to her, see if I can get 'yer scarf back. I don't want there to be any hard feelings."

Revenant's breathing pattern and low growl sounds like he is about to explode, and Fuse knows it too.

"Oh hey! They cleaned your room too!" His diffuses can be surprisingly effective. "Heh, I didn't even ask and apparently they decided to be like mum and make sure it got done whether I liked it or not."

Revenant hadn't actually noticed until now. He turns to look into the room. He peers across the way, seeing the bathroom mirror is reflective again.

"You're right." He sounds surprised. You swear you can hear another sigh of relief from Fuse now that the anger is gone.

"I was told it was that runner who seems to have a bit of a thing for 'ya did it. Seen 'em around lately?" Fuse asked. "I like to tip everyone, they do such a great job and they're not getting paid."

Revenant ignores him, walking into the middle of the room, peering around. To your recollection, he had never asked for his room to be cleaned as long as you have been volunteering. His room was very dusty. Now light is shining through all the windows, the television is clear, the bed sheets fresh, the carpet vacuumed...

"Yeah, where are they?" Revenant finally asks aloud. Is that your invitation to reveal yourself?

"Um, hi, sorry." You slowly pull yourself up from the floor, revealing your truly mediocre hiding spot.

Fuse gives a surprised stare, clearly catching a glimpse of your red badge, then laughs it off.

"You picked a cute one, didn't 'cha Rev?"

Revenant turns to face him in an absolute fury.

"Listen, I'm just telling ya to play nice." Revenant gets in Fuse's face immediately, but Fuse doesn't budge and meets him eye-to-eye for his next words. "You seem pretty defensive of 'em. Keep it that way."

Those words take Revenant aback just long enough for Fuse to break away and waltz up to you.

"Cheers, thanks for bein' my mum for me." He hands you enough money for a month of groceries, so generous!

"Thank you! That's very kind of you!" You chirp back, very happy to have more for your savings. Revenant seems shocked by the genuine joy in your voice.

As Fuse walks by Revenant to leave, you hear a short exchange:

"I'll try to get the scarf. Don't go killing anybody, and I didn't see anything out of the ordinary." Fuse murmurs.

"...thanks." Revenant sounds genuine.

Fuse gives him a side-hug on the way out, Revenant leaning away to escape it, but failing. Fuse laughs at Revenant's bashfulness. Getting a thanks from Revenant is a miracle unto itself, worthy of such a small celebration. Fuse is a genuinely good person. He is universally loved by the volunteers for his generosity and positivity. A lot of people have crushes on him, and you can understand why. One swift set of finger guns at each of you and Fuse is gone out the door, closing it behind himself.

"He's nice!" You say very matter-of-factly to Revenant.

"Sure, whatever you say, little skinsuit." He mumbles, seeming a bit exhausted by all the exchanges this morning. "What did he give you?"

"Money!" You hold out quite the wad of cash. Revenant chuckles a little under his breath at your happiness.

"What are you saving up for, anyway?"

"Well, for when this gig ends, I guess." You think aloud. "I just never want to be homeless again."

"Homeless?" Revenant looks at you with concern, "You were homeless before the Games?"

"Yeah, it's terrible out there..." You trail off your own words a bit sadly, but in seeing his concern for you, you decide to end on a high note. "With everything I save, I'll make sure I always have enough to live off of, and with the experience I'll have an easier time finding a job."

"Would it help if I paid you?" Revenant asks, plainly.

"Well, yes, but you don't need to."

"You should have told me." He almost whispers. He sounds a little sorrowful again.

You walk up and give him a quick hug.

"Sorry, I didn't know you would want to."

"If you keep getting too close to me, one of these days you're going to end up in a body bag." He sneers, trying to regain his vicious demeanor.

"Sorry, just keeping you warm, boss!" You play along, for now. You release him. "I have to actually get some food, go by the medical ward for some medicine, and then I need to leave the facility to pick up some new clothes. Do you need anything?"

Revenant stares for a moment.

"I'll be here when you return, bring me something alcoholic though." He answers, studying your eyes.

"Yes sir!" You rush out the door.

• • • •

When you return in the evening, you find Revenant's chassis laying like a corpse on the bed, his headscarf back on his head. His eyes are glowing dimly, staring at the ceiling with little interest.

"Oh hey." You address him.

"Oh, hey." He addresses you back, but slower. He keeps his eyes on the ceiling.

"You okay? You got your scarf back." You acknowledge, hoping he will perk up.

"Yeah." He sounds... depressed?

You put the bag of medicine on his computer desk, along with your bag of new clothes. You walk over with the remaining bag, which has the largest bottles of rum, whisky, and vodka the store sells. It is heavy and expensive, so you carefully place it on the end table next to his bed.

"I got you a ton of alcohol. It was kinda expensive, I'll probably need to be paid back." You carefully request, unsure how he will react. He gives you a thumbs up before his arm collapses onto the bed again. "What happened while I was gone?"

"Nothing much, I just got my scarf back." He sighs.

"Well, how did you get it?"

He moans audibly.

"Fuse got Mirage and Caustic to help him. Apparently it was an absolute mess. Mirage had to make tons of fakes to play keep away with my scarf, and Caustic gassed Loba's room with... zinc chlorides...? Something like that. It set off the fire alarms, everyone had to evacuate--"

"You didn't evacuate, did you?"

"Absolutely not. Anyways, in the chaos my scarf somehow ended up with Artur and Bloodhound."

"Oh geeze, what happened then?"

"They cleaned it, brought it to me, and gave it to me folded up neatly."

"Oh. Well... that last part isn't so bad."

"They were kind." His eyes tightened with discomfort, "And they left me with this." He holds up a single crow feather, perfectly dainty and undamaged.

"Aw, Artur!" You chirped; Artur was the sweetest bird you have met, not that you have met many.

Revenant sat up suddenly, his eyes getting bright again.

"Why would they do that?" He studied the feather in his hands, like he is completely bewildered with the concept of kindness. "They didn't owe me anything." He puts the feather down in front of him on the bed, pulling his hands up to hold his scarf in his grip on the two sides of his head. "They don't owe me this."

"Are you alright? You seem to not want to accept that Bloodhound is a nice person." You wanted to feed him the answer inside the question.

He stays silent for a while, taking the feather and handing it to you.

"Artur said this was for you, specifically."

"Wait, what do you me--"

"It's Bloodhound. It's in their name." He sighs, as you recognize concern in his tone, "They know who you are, they know you're here, and they recognized your scent on me." He lays down on his back, exasperated. "I can't let more people know." You hold Artur's feather, twirling it in your fingers. "They can't know. I am not like this." He seems genuinely upset.

"You seem cold." You prompted.

"I am very cold." He responds, overanalyzing each word for their deeper meaning.

"Do you want to be warm?" You put the feather down next to the bag of alcohol.

He pauses to sit back up before answering.

"Yes, but I can never let any of them know that." He answers plainly, but seriously.

You sit down next to him and are quickly grabbed and enveloped in his cold body, pulling you deeper onto the bed and directly under him. He almost instantly rests his head on your shoulder. His breath slows to a relaxed pace, rattling a little in his chest. His vocalizer hums at a low purr, and he moves his hands to feel your pulse, one at your chest and one to your jugular. He presses in, studying your inherent tick.

The television is on in front of you, but you haven't noticed it until now. The commentators are going over the edits of the "Loba the Scalper" image they found on social media, having nothing more important to talk about before the upcoming trios match. Revenant sighs a bit in your ear, still clearly bothered by his very public execution. You wrap your arms behind you to hug his waist. He holds you tighter for a moment, clearly understanding your intent is to comfort him.

You begin to massage the leather and the mechanisms underneath, unsure of how he will react; but he almost instantly squeezes you again, endorsing your idea. As you work into his back, his eyes dim and his breath quickens and deepens at strange intervals, relating to each long, deep stroke you perform. He slowly but surely relaxes his grip on you, potentially not realizing it. His mask digs into your shoulder, possibly trying to stifle his abnormal breathing. You keep at it for a few minutes, revelling in how sensitive his chassis is. Simulacrums were truly amazing.

Revenant's body melts under your touch, his chassis making odd movements clearly out of pure enjoyment. He's completely warm now, actually turning a bit hot as his code runs trying to keep up with your inputs. You worry that perhaps his circuits are being stressed too hard, but he also seems to be enjoying it so much.

He suddenly seems to shut down. His eyes go black, his weight falls on your shoulders, and his arms dislocate and slump out of his shoulder armor. You struggle to hold up his weight, his torso must be nearly two hundred pounds alone. No wonder he needs pistons to hold it up with his skinny waist.

He roars back to life, literally growling like a beast. His hands open and stretch like talons, the tips sharpening into claws. His legs cross in front of you, and his arms cross in front of you, and they pull you up against him in a nearly-crushing manner. His talons press into your flesh where they land, causing you a minor amount of pain. More concerningly, his jaw pulls open and he immediately goes as if to bite you, pushing your neck into the void of his mouth. He doesn't bite down though. His eyes are needle-thin, and brightened to a nearly red color. You gasp for breath in complete shock.

"You're mine!-Mine!-Mine!" His vocals are skipping as his hoarse, aggressive voice practically screams. "You belong to me!" He falls silent for a few moments. His shoulders refit themselves into their sockets as he slowly relaxes and retracts his claws from you. His softer voice returns. "Mine..." he calmly finishes. His jaw removes itself from your neck and closes. "I'm sorry. Emotions load faster than logic. It's hard to control myself after a reboot."

You had been holding your breath, and finally exhale and inhale, feeling faint with fear and deoxygenated blood. You slump back in his grip, putting your hands on your diaphragm to steady your breathing. You let yourself completely melt onto the bed, allowing yourself to look up at his face, gazing down at you.

"So, that's how you really feel then?" You pant, still catching your breath.

"Only a bit." He tries to comfort you, taking your hands in his. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to scare you. Being a simulacrum is complicated. Even more complicated if you don't learn humanity while you're still human." He looks away, apparently not necessarily sure what he is missing in himself. "But I cannot deny there is truth in that emotion."

"It sounds like 'if I can't have you, nobody can' isn't off the table yet." You are slowly catching your breath.

"I would be very upset. I don't handle being upset well." His words are foreboding, but you're unsure if he is uncertain himself or trying to hide the truth. You want to sleep; you feel like you're going to have a heart attack. He squeezes your hands, noticing your weariness. "Sleep out here tonight."

You give him a weak thumbs up, fully expecting to just sleep right where you are. Revenant releases your hands, throws a blanket over you, and pulls you by your torso into a better sleeping position, up against a pillow. You throw out another thumbs up in approval. He snickers in response.

"I'm getting drunk. So sick of today. I'm going to create a scene so gruesome next game that everyone forgets about this little fiasco." He grumbles. You hear him cork something as you drift to sleep. "Have a good night, little skinsuit." Sleep was taking you rapidly.

"Thank you for the warmth." is the last thing you hear.

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strawberrypiratenin · 3 years

Text

Halcyon

Part I: Wisdom of a Moss

Disclaimer: One Piece and it’s wonderful characters is owned by Eiichiro Oda. The following work of fiction is just my way of filling in some spaces in his work with my shameless imagination.

This and my other work is also available in ff.net.

Rating: K+

Word Count: 4k+

Genre: Friendship, Comfort, Humor, sprinkle of Fluff

Pairing: Zoro/Nami

Summary: Set after Ch. 955 in the manga. Nami reflects on their current journey and her worries are let known to a certain swordsman.

A/N: Being the ones to be beside Luffy since the very beginning, I figured if there is someone to reflect on how their journey has been it has to be these two. Seeing also how they have the dynamic of Nami being worrisome and Zoro comforting just telling her how things are (e.g. Davy back fight, Usopp leaving the crew), I thought if someone in the crew is going to feel this way, it would be Nami, with Zoro being there to talk it out.

This was supposed to be a one- shot but I ended up having a vision of a scene to wrap this up which I’m trying to get to. So looks like there would be more. Hopefully I somehow mostly stayed in character. Hope you enjoy.

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"What's a dango?" the Strawhat's doctor asked, eyes glinting, as Sanji helped unload the fragrant boxes of dango sent by one of the allies. They were gathered around a table in their small camp. The preparations for the raid in Onigashima nearing its completion.

" Hmm…dango? Ah yes, you see Chopper, it's a type of weapon, disguised as colorful treats that when eaten, causes one to be hypnotized and start walking backwards! An assassin once tried this weapon on me…" Usopp started explaining as the glint in the poor reindeer's eyes started to die out.

"…but you see the great and mighty Uso—"

"Wrong!" The blonde cook shouted, sandaled foot connecting on the sniper's head. "Stop disrespecting food like that!"

Nami cringed at the thought of a hypnotizing, backward walking individual they had once encountered.

"It's a sweet rice dumpling, Chopper. And no, it won't hypnotize you when you eat it." Nami said sweetly, to the relief of the horrified reindeer.

Nami's eyes narrowed to the now laying on the ground Usopp and huffed.

"I should go call the others."

"No Onami- swan! How about you stay here and let's have someone else call the others." Sanji said, glaring at Usopp, who's now nursing a bump on his head.

"It's okay Sanji- kun," she said, forcing a smile on her face. "I needed the walk anyway."

"If you say so mellorine~, shall I accompany you?" said the cook, with hearts on his eyes.

"Just stay here and guard the food Sanji- kun." Giving one last weak smile, the navigator turned to leave, feeling the need to be by herself with her thoughts.

"Alright you shits! Nobody eats until Nami swan gets back here!"

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It was easy to find the others as the Strawhat navigator was almost trampled on her way by their captain as he shouted "food! Where's the food?" and took off running excitedly to where she pointed without another word.

She found Robin with Franky, who just got back from the port, and Brook who excitedly claimed how great that would be with tea, the thought just warms his insides, although ah! He does not have any insides.

Only one more left to find. She's just hoping he did not get lost somewhere far.

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Bamboo leaves rustled as a breeze passed through the forest, orange tresses swayed along, its owner slowly getting lost in her thoughts as the very person she was looking for started to creep on her mind.

"...Zorojuro, I will be blunt with you, if it were me, I would not accept this blade", suggested Kinemon.

One clean strike. Rumble.

Nami wasn't able to stifle her gasp as she watched a huge chunk of the edge of the cliff splash into the waters below.

"Gyaah! Zorojuro's arm!"

Her eyes widened as she watched Zoro's sword wielding arm appear to emaciate after the swing of this new sword. Her mouth open, about to call out at him…

"You! Give it back to me!"

…and she watched as his arm returned to normal, the swordsman seemingly having tamed the sword.

She stood in shocked silence. 'what a scary weapon' she thought, hand on her mouth dropping to her chest as the heartbeat that has quickened its pace started to calm down.

"If you were just some normal swordsman, you would have had all you energy sucked out and collapsed immediately", Hitetsu commented.

The swordsman's face spread into a devilish grin. "So it means once I get used to this sword I'll be stronger? I'll take it, Enma."

A small frown started to form on the navigator's lips. She can't deny the fear that gripped her insides when she saw what happened to Zoro's arm. Such scary power, and he was very much willing to wield it to get stronger.

She let out a huff as she recalled everything they have been through since they reunited and sailed the New world. So much has happened in such a short amount of time. Compared to how it was when they first set sail on the Grandline as a crew, everything that has been going on now seems to be so… intense. And with it, it seems, out of all of them in the crew, it was the green haired swordsman who has been taking everything with so much intensity. Too intense if that demonstration on the cliff has anything to say.

She always knew the guy was intense, even from the very first time she met him, running around, carrying a cage with a profusely bleeding stab wound to his abdomen. She knows the guy would do everything in his power to get stronger. She also knows that much like everyone else in their crew, he would do everything to use that power to protect them and keep them moving towards their dreams.

The problem however, and what really worries her about all this, is that aside from this intensity, he also is an idiot. A big idiot who ends up disregarding himself and his safety for the sake of the crew and getting stronger. She slapped a hand to her forehead as she recalled that time he tried to fight Arlong despite being severely injured, or that time in Little garden when his initial instinct was to cut off his legs, his own damn legs to get free. Or his weird injuries in Thriller bark. She suspected he had something to do with why they all ended up unharmed and Kuma nowhere in sight when they all came to and he was the only one to end up like that. But he just brushed it off and said "who knows? maybe he got scared so he just left". Or how he got back from their two- year separation without his left eye?!

Now he's willing to risk getting his energy sucked by that sword? She knows he's strong, very much so but she really can't help but worry for him. She's already worried for all of them as it is but she can't seem to especially shrug of her worry for her green haired crewmate this time.

Another rustle of leaves, but this time followed by the creaking of falling bamboos snapped the redhead from her thoughts.

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The swordsman stood in solitude in the middle of the bamboo forest, three swords all unsheathed, trying to get the feel of them with his newly acquired one. There is still some strain on the arm wielding Enma but not as much. He is getting used to this sword quite well. Hitetsu mentioned earlier that he is confident by his hands, this sword will become a black blade. He grinned at that. Tightening his grip on Enma, he closed his eye, and breathed out.

Ever since they set sail on the New world, no, ever since he asked Mihawk to train him back in Kuraigana, he had renewed his resolve that by his swords he will fulfill his promise to Kuina, fulfill his dream, and see to it that his crewmates dreams be fulfilled as well. Defeat such as that at Thriller Bark and Saboady shall never happen again. No longer will he be powerless to protect his crew and their dreams.

He opened his eye and stared at the new sword on his hand. 'Suck its wielder's energy huh?' He grinned, 'try me', his arm moving to make a clean slash at the trees around him.

Too focused on his new sword, it was only after the slash that he sensed another presence nearby.

His one eye widened as he saw the woman at the direction the trees were falling to.

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Nami yelped as the top ends of a few falling bamboo trees narrowly missed her, causing her to fall on her behind at the ground.

"Baka! What are you doing there?!" Came the strained shout of the very man she was looking for. In an instant, he had closed the distance between them.

"Are you hurt?" Concern and a tinge of panic laced the voice of the swordsman.

She was shocked at first, just staring at the fallen bamboos in front of her then at the crewmate who was responsible for her distracted thoughts just a moment ago and is now crouching beside her.

She blinked, once, twice.

"…"

"Baka?" The word slipped from her mouth with a confused tone as she recovered from her shock.

"Who are you calling baka?!" She erupted, followed by a fist to the side of the swordsman's head.

"Oh great, you're okay. Dammit woman!" the now irritated swordsman said, nursing his head. Despite his reaction, his eyes still scanned her body, looking for any signs of injury.

"Okay?! You almost crushed me with those bamboos!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know you would be there?"

"I don't know, maybe scan the area first before going off slashing these poor unsuspecting trees?"

"I was training! What the hell are you doing, strolling around here anyway?" Zoro grumpily retorted as he held out his hand to help the navigator get up.

Nami stared at the outstretched hand towards her, remembering it's the very same limb that almost got sucked dry by Enma at the cliff. Her irritation dissipated and she let out a breath as she grasped the hand and stood up. Her hand stayed held in his for a brief moment as her eyes flitted to his face, unable to hide the worry in her features. She let go of his hand as she tried to brush off the dust on her yukata.

Zoro stared at her.

"What is it, witch?"

"What was what?"

"That look on your face."

"What? What's wrong with my face?" She tried to brush off.

"…"

"Hey, so you're training with Enma? How's it going? Your arm okay?" She asked, coolly.

He continued to stare at her, narrowing his single eye.

"Hmp." Came the only response from the swordsman.

Not a good answer.

"Ow! What the hell, Nami?!" Zoro growled, trying to fend off the redhead's fingers as she has resulted to poking him sharply on his side.

"I asked you a question!"

Yep, of course that kind of answer is no good to this woman. Zoro sighed and stood up straight, right hand flitting to his swords. "Of course it's okay, this is nothing."

Nami couldn't help but smile lightly at that. Of course that's going to be his answer, she didn't even know why she bothered to ask in the first place. When did she ever hear this man say something is too hard for him or he can't do it?

"Also, I asked a question first. What are you doing here?"

Nami's smile turned to a grimace. Poor Sanji is probably now having a hard time trying to stave off a hungry Luffy from getting his hands off the food.

"Right. Snack time. Sanji- kun sent me here to get you."

'Dartboard brow? Ordering his precious Nami- swan around? And the witch actually doing the task? That's weird.' Zoro thought with a frown, but decided against voicing this out.

"Yeah, I'm not hungry."

Nami's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, you don't quite have a choice at that. See I already walked all the way here. I'm not going back without you."

He glared back at her.

"Also, as a certain idiot decided it is a good day to crush me with bamboo trees... I also happen to be injured, so you'll have to carry me back." She added.

"Injured?!" Sputtered the swordsman. "Woman where? You're perfectly fine!"

"Ehhh, but my ass hurts Zoro- kun." Retorted the navigator as she placed an index finger on her lips, the other hand caressing the round of her butt, and putting on a pout.

'z-zZoro- kun?' The swordsman's eye twitched. 'Oh no. The scheming witch is at it again.

…and did she say her ASS??'

"Yeah I think it's bruised." For a second, pouty lips almost turned into a smirk, but the well-trained navigator held her innocent pout despite the unmistakable mischievous glint in her eyes. "Do you want to check, Zoro?"

Zoro's glare could bore holes.

Just a few minutes ago Enma was the one threatening to suck his energy. Now it's the woman in front of him. What's worse, holding himself against Enma is proving to be easier than doing it against Nami.

'Do I want to cheCK? Damn this woman,' he thought with a stifled gulp, as he tried to push down graphic thoughts he refuses to acknowledge.

Left palm hitting his forehead, sliding it down his face, a heavy sigh left the swordsman. "Fine, get on." And with that, turned to crouch and offer his back to the navigator, whose manipulative face dropped behind him at how that ended without more of a fight from said man.

Nami hesitated for a second. She really thought he would argue, even for little, even if she knew there's no way he's going to win, like how they always did. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed.

"Hey, I don't have all day."

Without a word, the navigator climbed the swordsman's back.

Zoro stood up and started walking. He tried to ignore how he noticed the subtle difference on how the woman felt pressed to his back, compared to that time in Alabasta when he carried her like this. Or how her yukata had to open-up a bit and shift higher for her to be able to adjust her legs around him. Yeah, there's a different air to his current situation now. But he refuses to pay more attention to these.

A few steps in and he found it weird how the normally noisy woman is now so silent. Trying to test the waters, he hopped over a fallen tree, one that he could have easily sidestepped, making sure to land roughly. This caused the navigator's nose to awkwardly collide on his head and his grip on her to ride higher.

"Hey! Watch it you brute!"

There it is.

"Ow! Nami!" That's the second bump the swordsman received today on his head.

"You're carrying precious cargo you know?! You should be more careful."

"Tsk." Yep. Shouldn't have bothered testing that.

Another stretch of silence.

"Ne Zoro, we're really off to face a Yonko huh?"

The navigator's voice broke the quiet. Which usually did not come as a surprise to Zoro, if not for the thoughtful tone to it and how it came as an almost whisper.

"Yeah, you guys faced one already didn't you?" replied Zoro, deciding to humour the navigator's suddenly serious mood lest he incur another bump on his head.

"Mmm, but this one's different, last time facing one was not the main mission, we tried our best to avoid her. Even so we barely got away with our lives." Nami gulped as she remembered Pedro. "This time we're actually facing one head on."

Zoro's head shifted to the side, his ear picking up the somber tone of the navigator.

"You're not thinking of backing out, are you?"

"Of course not! I mean, if we had a choice, why not? But we don't, don't we?" Nami came with a burst of spirit only to end with defeated frustration.

"Hm. Even if we do, you don't really believe we'd be choosing the alternative right?"

If there's one thing she has learned from all the time she had been in this crew, it's that they will always choose the dangerous option. Even if through some miracle they don't, it still ends up with them being dragged to the dangerous path either way. That's just how it is, even when it was just the three of them in Orange town and she's not official in the crew yet, at least to her belief. She'd hoped gaining more members would mean there'd be more rational voices in the crew. But no.

"No." She chuckled weakly.

"I just. Isn't all this happening too fast? I just thought we'd have some sort of a breather. Like how we were back then. After each island there's nothing to worry about other than to keep us floating until we get to the next where we don't know what awaits us. Now after Punk Hazard I can't really enjoy each island knowing what's waiting in the next would be some crazy strong enemy we'd have to defeat. Everything's just gotten so serious you know?" Nami ranted, feeling like a bratty child complaining but this has really been how things are.

Zoro took a moment to digest what the redhead behind him just released on him. Of course he knows. He knew this the moment he faced Kuma in Thriller bark. He definitely knew this is how the rest of their journey is going to have to be after what happened in Saboady. This is what he understood what Luffy realized too when he decided they shall meet in 2 years instead of right away after they got separated. They have come to a point in their journey where they have to pick a path and stick with it if they intend to get to the one piece. It's just unfortunate… or well, fortunate, depends on who in the crew you ask, that the best path is filled with 'crazy strong' enemies.

"Nami."

The navigator raised her head at that, confused at the sudden stern tone from the swordsman.

"Did you really expect anything less from us?"

"Huh?"

"You should've known this earlier."

Now she feels like a bratty child being scolded. She didn't like that.

"Our captain, he's all for fun mindless adventure, but what did he make sure everyone he meets know about him?"

Nami mulled at that. 'That he's stubborn? That he likes meat? No. Oh.'

"He's going to be the pirate king." She sighed. Of course. What did she expect from being a Strawhat anyway? Their captain is bound to be king of the pirates, of course there's no easy way to that. She knew this, it's just how crazy the way to get to it is something she's still reluctantly coming to terms with.

Zoro felt his message came across. "Our defeat in Saboady was our wake-up call. If we want to continue our journey towards our dreams then we have to be serious about it, because there are serious stuff out there bound to prevent us from doing so. So we'd have to fight for our way, no matter what or who the obstacle is. And we have to do it now, because these obstacles are not going to wait because we still want to have fun."

Nami can't help but stare at Zoro now. When did Zoro become so… wise?

"Besides, isn't this what we prepared for in those 2 years?"

"Well… yes, I prepared but mostly on navigating, maybe I added some tricks to my climatact but you can't really expect me to face the strength of a Yonko."

"Don't worry, I got you. I'll protect you."

Nami can't help but be taken aback by that. She knows this has been his role not just to her but to the entire crew. Despite this, she can't fight the warmth that started to creep on her cheeks. The intensity in the way he said it together with his grip tightening on her just caught her off guard.

Zoro noticed his passenger had suddenly become stiff on his back. Thinking back to what he just said, he realized how that must have sounded. Sappy.

Suddenly flustered, he blurted, "I meant I'll protect us!... The entire crew, I meant the entire crew! Not just you! Specifically!"

"Ow! Damn it Nami!"

The navigator decided the best way to diffuse the impending awkwardness was to do what they do best. Violence from her and the resulting banter that follows. She had just pulled the swordsman's ear.

"Of course I know that you baka." She chuckled, a smile blooming on her lips.

"Tsk." He pretended to be annoyed, but was thankful she didn't tease him for it. He remembered something then, causing a smirk on his lips.

"Hey, what are you worried about anyway? Luffy told me you landed a pretty solid attack on Big Mom. Seems like you got the whole facing the strength of a Yonko thing done."

Nami was once again taken aback, unable to help but smile at the thought of their captain proudly sharing what she did and be flattered at the hint of pride emanating from the swordsman.

"Well… yeah, but that was actually because of Zeus, and that didn't really do any damage to her."

She felt a squeeze from the hands supporting her thighs.

"Still, you did something and that counts. Keep doing what you do and you're fine, leave the rest to us."

Nami can't keep her stare off Zoro now, that warmth continuing to engulf her and she smiled. "Ah."

Zoro really didn't know where his words are coming from but he couldn't help what comes out of his mouth just to appease the woman.

Another stretch of silence. It was comfortable for a moment but after a while, the wringing of the hands that are crossed loosely in front of the swordsman's chest has given away the unresolved worries of the woman on his back.

He sighed. "What is it, Nami?"

"Huh?"

"There's still something on your mind."

The hand wringing stilled and he felt a puff of air on his nape.

"Ne, Zoro."

That was soft. Way too soft for Nami. And he can't describe it but that tone alone made his chest feel a bit tight. He held his breath as he turned his head slightly towards the navigator's voice, an indication that he heard her.

"You have to be careful as well you know."

He slowed down his steps, really not liking this somber tone on her.

"Heh. Is the witch worried about me now? Afraid you'll lose someone to hold debts to?" He tried to josh. He can handle an annoyed Nami, but this suddenly serious, melancholic Nami, he's not quite sure how to approach.

"Baka, of course I am!"

The sudden outburst together with the tightening of the arms around his shoulders stopped him in his tracks.

"I mean, sure I am worried about all of us, but I am most worried about you, you know?! You're so reckless, you're even worse than Luffy! That time in Thriller Bark? I don't know what you did but you sustaining those mysterious injuries and not waking up really scared me. Then we get separated and you come back after two years without your left eye? And now your new sword…" The navigator paused. "Look, I have no doubt you can handle that sword, you're Zoro after all but all I'm saying is just… just don't be too reckless."

The swordsman was silent for minute, taken aback by the tirade that just came from their navigator. There's no way he could try to tease her out of her mood right now, not with how heavy she's breathing now behind his back, like what she just said physically exerted her. He took some time to ruminate her words, he knows the woman worries. He didn't know she worries for him that much and he certainly didn't expect for her to voice them out. Although it's hard to see her this way, he'd be lying if he said knowing her concern for him didn't give a weird feeling on his stomach. Unfortunately, he couldn't bring himself to comfort his crewmate because what she's worried about is just the thing he does.

He released a deep breath. "What happens to me, the injuries I sustained in the past, I regret none of them."

"Of course you don't regret them, because you're still here! What if the next time what you lose is a limb so you can no longer wield a sword? Or worse…"

"Then that's what I deserved. If I'm not strong enough to protect myself, then that would mean that what I get as a result of my lack of strength is what I deserve."

"But-"

"Look, Nami. You are the navigator of our ship, you bring us to where we need to be, and not once have you failed us. Usopp is the sniper, Ero- kappa cooks, Chopper is our doctor, Robin is the one who reads the weird stones, Franky takes care of the ship, Brook brings the entertainment. Me, all I can offer is my strength to protect the crew. If I am unable to survive the injuries that I have sustained and will sustain in our journey, then I have no right taking the role of protecting you and I have no right to stand beside Luffy."

He stared off in the distance, he really has no intention of baring these thoughts to the woman on his back, not when they're sober and in the middle of nowhere, but it just flowed out of him. He has no choice after all, the woman is stubborn, brushing her worries off will not help. Even if her concern warms his insides in a way he can't describe making him want to comfort her in return, he can't really give her any assurance.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the long breath over his right neck and a warm palm tenderly placed over the scar on his left eye.

"Baka of course I know that. I've known you long enough to know that is how you think."

Goosebumps have started to arise on his arms and neck by her proximity and touch.

"Reckless brute who muscles his way out of everything."

Only to be halted by the insult that followed. He was about to retort when she continued.

"All I'm saying is, do you think we would be happy reaching our dreams if we get there at your expense? And no, I'm not saying you're not strong enough that we'd come to that point" He noticed her right hand tighten at this. "What I'm saying is, just maybe think of that too the next time you start thinking about doing something too reckless." He was about to retort again but Nami sensed this and the hand on his left eye left to pinch his cheek.

"Hey!-"

"I was there when you tried to saw off your legs in Little Garden, Zoro. That's what I mean when I say too reckless. Aaargh honestly! I know you're gonna be reckless anyway, but just don't be reckless and dumb at the same time! Also, worry about yourself too! Even us weak ones trained those past two years so we can somehow fend for ourselves and yes, I definitely need protecting still but you guys need to worry about yourselves too sometimes, and I know you guys will keep picking fights on-"

Before Nami can continue rambling, she was interrupted by Zoro taking the hand that just pinched his cheek. He enclosed it on his own, before resting both their hands on his chest, just above heart. The warmth of Zoro's hand on hers brought all her thoughts to a full stop as a she stiffened and a blush dusted her cheeks. Oh how grateful she is that he can't see her face now.

"I get it. I can't promise anything but I get it."

The navigator let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her body relaxing and her head unconsciously leaning unto his. Who knew this conversation would be tiring? But really, she's satisfied with that. This is Zoro after all and that coming from him is enough for her.

Sensing that his red headed companion has been satisfied with his answer, Zoro resumed to walk as they once again fell into comfortable silence. This time without Nami wringing her hands since one is preoccupied inside the swordsman's.

…

"Ano, Zoro…"

"What now, woman?"

"I was serious when I said you should be careful okay? We wouldn't want you losing another eye. You get lost even with both eyes intact, you're terrible now with just one. What would we do if you lose both?" She tried burying her concern with a joke, even if the thought of the possibility of that does frighten her.

"Woman I don't get lost! It's you guys who get lost!"

"Uh huh, sure, that's how it was all those times. Maybe that's also why we passed this fallen tree for the third time? It must be lost."

Zoro flinched. "Damn it!" He let go of Nami's hand to adjust his hold on her and stomped the other way. Nami tried to ignore how she missed the warmth of his hand on hers.

"Really though, you're beyond salvation 'mister I don't get lost', at this rate Luffy would've devoured all the dango by the time we got there." Which is not really a long amount of time, considering it's their captain. It just depends on how well Sanji holds the fort.

"Well it's your fault! You keep distracting me with your questions!"

Nami chuckled at that. "Sure, sure. Just head this way." She ordered, pointing towards a path. "Straight line Zoro, do you even know what that is?"

"Tsk. Damn it woman I'll drop you I swear!"

The navigator laughed harder at that.

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Part I End.

#zoronami #zona #zonami #zoro x nami #roronoa zoro #nami #one piece #zona fanfictions #zoro nami fanfiction

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harrypotter-imaginess · 3 years

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Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here!

A/N: I think two more parts and an epilogue :)

* If Draco’s being honest, he kind of saw it coming

* Honestly the fact that she had been so quiet when everything unfolded in Paris was very unlike her

* So he’s not at all surprised to see her in the mundane waiting area at his department

* A very frazzled receptionist who’s frantically telling an old war hero that even though she saved the world, she can’t see Mr.Malfoy without an appointment

* “It’s alright Saoirse, I’ll take it from here,” he tells the receptionist with a soft pat on the shoulder before turning his attention to his visitor

* “Hello Granger,” she only replies with a polite smile

* He really was afraid of this

* “what can I do for you?”

* And that’s how he found himself at a cafe around the corner sitting across from his old nemesis -

* And apparently also his old school crush-

* With two steaming cups of untouched tea in front of them

* He’s trying to keep calm, not showing that he’s internally freaking out

* It’s no sooner that the server is out of earshot that Granger leans over the table and says through gritted teeth

* “What are you playing at Malfoy?”

* And Draco, having learned one single thing living with his parents is that when someone is angry-

* You lie

* So he takes control of the moment, lifting the cup of tea to his lips and savoring his sip of tea before saying :

* “I have no idea what you mean”

* It only makes her angrier

* Well what did she think was going to happen?

* That she could just show up unannounced and interrogate him about his relationship

* He doesn’t need her to be hard on him, he’s hard enough on himself for the both of them

* “Honestly Draco, are you so self-involved that you have no consideration for what will happen to them once your family finds out you’re involved with a Muggle”

* He’s thought of nothing but that actually

* “You’ll be fine of course, you’re their son they’ll forgive you for it, call it a flight of youth but what about them? What about the years you’re stealing from them, their mind-“

* Mid tirade, Draco slips a hand into his suit pocket and pulls out a small velvet box

* Hermione stops talking when he sets it down in the middle of the table

* “I bought it the day after our first date”

* After that day, he knew there was no going back

* He couldn’t live a life without you, he couldn’t go back to the way things were anymore

* Hermione doesn’t say anything for a long time

* “Your parents-“she starts

* “Will disown me” Draco finishes and then after thinking about it for a second he adds:

* “Probably”

* “Draco-“ Hermione’ stone is sympathetic but he stops her right there

* “I know you think I’m the worst and daft to boot, and honestly I probably am, but don’t think for a second I haven’t considered all the angles for how this play’s out”

* They sit in silence, and to Draco’s surprise it’s not painful

* It’s just sad

* “You love them that much?” And for the first time, Hermione isn’t looking at him with a glare

* “With all my heart” he responds without a moments thought

* Because it’s true

* If being with you means his family will never speak to him again if it means he’ll have to give up his money if it means he’ll have to give up magic forever

* Then that’s okay

* He’ll give them all up with a smile on his face

* “They show up in my nightmares you know” Granger raises her eyebrow at that

* Ah, that came out wrong

* “Not like that-“

* He’s certainly not saying the person he loves is the root of his nightmares

* Every so often he’ll be back in school

* Kicking some first year while they’re down

* Telling Potter how pathetic he is because he doesn’t have parents

* Standing in front of the vanishing cabinet in the room of requirement, trying to mend it

* Standing in front of Dumbledore with his wand raised

* And he can see himself doing all of these terrible things, things that make him cringe and ashamed

* And then you show up

* A hand placed on his shoulder

* “You can choose kindness Draco”

* “You don’t have to hurt other people so they don’t notice that you’re hurting too”

* “Everything is okay”

* “I’m here now”

* And so, like things always are when you're around, the dream is bathed in warm gold light

* Draco extends his hand, helping the first year onto his feet

* He tells Potter: “sometimes I’m jealous you haven’t got any parents. Sometimes the things they want from me - it's like I can’t breathe”

* He breaks that vanishing cabinet

* And he lowers his wand and whispers “help me please, tell me what I have to do to escape this future”

* And it makes all the difference

* “They’re what saves me,” he says, completely unaware of the look in Hermione’s eyes

* Ron and Harry never saw it, but she did-

* It’s easy for the three of them to be good, they had people like Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley and Professor McGonagall to look up to, to look towards when they thought they may stray from their path

* But Draco never had anyone like that

* He had Snape, but that was a mess in and of itself

* And she’s ashamed to say that as smart as she is, she didn’t see it sooner

* Not until she saw him in that Parisian bakery

* She didn’t think he could look that kind in general, let alone to a Muggle

* But just because he’s better now because of you, doesn’t mean he should be better at the expense of you

* She’s happy for you

* “If you hurt them you won’t need to worry about your parents, I’ll murder you myself”

* Draco laughs

* That seems fair

* “I’m sorry,” and when she seems confused he adds:

* “For all the things I did in school, I regret all of them”

* An awkward expression crosses her face

* “I’m not asking for your forgiveness, I don’t deserve it, I just-“

* He just thought that she deserved one, even if it was after all these years

* “I just wanted to apologize”

* Not wanting to make her uncomfortable he moves to leave, standing up and ticking his chair in

* “Oh and one more thing,” he says before leaving.

* “Let Weasley and Potter know that the irony isn’t lost on me that I fell in love with a Muggle,” he says with a grin, and Hermione smiles back.

* You walk out of the office to see Draco leaning against the building, a brown bag in hand

* He’s wearing that black on black suit

* God he looks yummy

* “Were you waiting for me?” You’re probably grinning when he leans down to greet you with a kiss, grabbing your hand with his free on

* Fingers intertwining as you walk down the street

* “I got finished early, thought I would surprise you with some of your favorite food,” he says the paper bag rustling in his hand

* “My place or yours,” you ask, and Draco gulps

* He puts on his best smile

* “Yours is probably best”

* He strips off his coat the moment he asks in, before helping you out of yours

* “You’re being so attentive today,” you say with a giggle while he tucks your hair behind your ear

* “Just missed you is all,” he says with a smile

* “Hard day at work?” You ask setting your keys down and you see Draco shrug

* “A little” a tiny reassuring smile curled onto his face

* “I’ll get us some wine,” you say “white or red?”

* “Surprise me”

* He takes a seat on your couch, leg bouncing

* It has to be now

* He has to do it now

* You come back with two glasses of rosé

* “I thought you said my options were white or red?” He says taking one of the glasses

* “And you said ‘surprise me’”

* He laughs, setting the glass down on a coaster

* “You know there’s no one else like you in the world, you’re an original piece” he’s teasing, but it’s not unkind

* You banter back:

* “Well I didn’t see you complaining about my originality last month when you proposed to me”

* He smiles at you

* And you know exactly what’s about to happen

* Before his hand dips into his pocket

* Before you see the velvety box, which creaks open to reveal a formidable diamond ring

* Before Draco says

* “That’s right, I love your originality, I love everything about you. And I want nothing more than to spend my entire life being surprised by you”

* “Will you marry me?”

* Yes

* Of course, it’s a yes

* How could it not be?

* You don’t realize you’re crying until Draco’s thumbs wipe away the tears on your cheeks

* Your mouth opens to tell him that you want nothing more than to surprise him for the rest of your life too, nothing more than to stay by his side

* When he stops you

* “Before you answer, there’s something you need to know, something I haven’t been 100% honest about”

* Draco averts his gaze and you feel anxiety gnaw at you

* What sort of terrible thing could it be?

* He looks straight into your eyes with those warm Grey orbs

* Gulps, and says:

* “I’m a wizard (Y/N)”

#harry potter imagine #harry potter #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x you #Draco Malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter headcanon #harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy reader insert #draco malfoy headcanons #harrypotter imaginess

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

I hate the way you lie

Hello hello, here I am with the next part....get mad at me. Do it. This and the next part will make you angry, the 9th part will make you sad, and the 10th, well....I’ll let you guess

Read the whole series: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

_________________________

“Why do I have to make sense?”

“Why do you keep denying everything?”

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

The sudden change from her music to her ringtone made her jump, Evelina nearly dropping her plate on the ground once she saw who was calling. “I always forget you have my number,” she answers, shoving her chicken and rice in her mouth.

“How do you forget that?” Matthew’s voice comes through on the other end, “Am I really that far from your mind at all times?”

“Yes.”

Matthew scoffs, hating that sometimes he has to go through Evelina to get to you. “Whatever,” he lets out. “I need help.”

“Not shocking,” she lets out monotonously, the sound of her eating indicating she was putting no care into helping Matthew in the first place.

“Evelina!” he raises his voice, causing her to jump again, frustrated at himself more so than he was at her, “Sorry. Just, please, take this seriously?”

She feels her entire body tense up. “Sorry, yeah. Go ahead,” she lets out, pushing her plate aside to give him her full attention. Whatever it was, Matthew had to be serious if he was calling her like this, anyway.

Matthew takes in a deep breath, knowing he can say it because he technically already did. “I’m in love with Y/N.” He waits for some sort of reaction from your roommate, silence the only thing he heard, “Ev?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Yeah, I was waiting for you to tell me something I didn’t already know.”

She hears him groan, shoving more food in her mouth as she’s clearly unamused by what he just told her. “I said it last night to Y/N.”

“What?” she yells, followed by choking on her rice. Sending herself into a coughing fit, she hears Matthew panicking, calling her name to ask her if she were alright. “Fuck,” she coughs, “I’m fine, I’m fine. You said what?”

“I said, ‘I love you,’ after our phone call.”

She stops for a minute, trying to process what he just said. “After? As in not during the phone call? Did you say it over text? Do I have to have Elias kill you?” she spitfires, thinking Matthew would get flustered over the bombardment.

“She hung up before I could tell her, I didn’t say it over text, and he won’t hide my body well enough to not get caught. What do I do?” he responds. He was used to talking and listening to your rambling; Evelina could ask him ten questions in a row and he could answer them all thanks to how much time he spent with you.

“Tell her in person?”

Even though he knew she couldn’t see him, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her. “Don’t you think I would if I could? Everytime I try I fucking panic like a wimp. How much of the list does she still have?”

Taking another bite of her food, she tries to even think about where the list is. “I have no idea. Maybe three or four things left?” She waits for him to say something else, hearing nothing but a sigh come from him. “Look, you have a week and a half left.”

“A week and a half left of what?” you ask, coming into the kitchen to make yourself food, not noticing Evelina practically jumping out of her skin at the sound of your voice.

“Sorry,” she says, hanging up on Matthew without letting him get in another word. “I was talking to Jasmine about the presentation.”

You turn to look at her, the uncertainty in her voice telling you something was up. You shrug, turning back to the fridge to try to find something to make for yourself. “Uh,” you say, reaching in and pulling out the only thing that wasn’t food in the fridge, a now discolored piece of paper. “I forgot this was in here,” you say, holding up the crumbled list with two fingers.

“Wh-why?” Evelina drags out, clearly confused as to how neither of you had noticed it had probably been in there since the weekend she was visiting her parents. “Why was that in the fridge?”

Tossing it in the trash, you explain, “Matthew almost saw it so I threw it in there and said we were making a list of your kinks.” You hear her scoff behind you, not even wanting to turn around to see the glare she was sending in your direction. “Ok, what else was I supposed to do?”

“Not have the list in the first place.”

Pulling out the left over pasta you had, you roll your eyes as you threw it in the microwave. “It was your idea,” you remind her.

“What’s even on it at this point? The way he cuts his hair, his driving, the teasing, the staring,” she starts listing, counting off on her fingers, “How he reads your mind and makes you rhyme.”

“I’m ignoring the mocking tone while you listed the last two. But he’s right when he shouldn’t be. It’s annoying,” you say, her holding up another finger.

“That’s seven things so far, babe.” Evelina sits there, studying the expression on your face. It’s not really sad, but there’s just something off about it. “Have you figured anything when it comes to him?”

“No.”

“Well,” she starts, “you at least were happy with him last night. But, why scream ‘fraud?’”

You can feel your face turning red, turning towards her. You were technically smiling, even if it was being overpowered by the cringe you were showing, “You heard that?”

“I’m pretty sure Mrs. Rose heard that and she takes out her hearing aids after her four p.m. dinner.” You nearly choke on your food, Evelina laughing at your expense as she pushes her water towards you. “Why are you even going to rewrite the list?”

You finish what she had left in her glass, getting up to refill hers and get yourself your own. “I mean, I said I would.”

“But you’ve already been on the date with him and slept with him, and not in that order, I might add.” You roll your eyes at her, even though you knew she was right. “Babe, all I’m saying: the point of the list was so you wouldn’t have to go out with him, and you’ve already done that. So now, what’s the point of the list?”

“I told you, I need to figure out how I feel about him,” you insist, even if you were pretty sure how you felt. You just couldn’t say it. Putting your face in your hands, you groan, “I don’t even know what I am to him.”

“What do you want to be?”

----------

“Hey, it’s me!” Matthew calls, letting himself into your apartment like he always does. He doesn’t hear any noise coming from either of your rooms even though you were supposed to be leaving in a few minutes to head to the bar and meet the guys. “I have presents.”

He rolls his eyes as you both come running, Evelina more excited at the prospect of a gift than anything else. “What is it?” she says, bouncing up and down, eagerly waiting for the box he had in his hands while you stood behind her waiting to say hi to him.

“Can I say hi to my gir-” he starts, stopping himself. He was going to say girlfriend, pushing past Evelina, whose mouth was hanging wide open, the heat rushing to your face at the thought of him calling you that. Who cared about some stupid list? “To Y/N first?”

He kisses you, his free hand cupping your face. “Hi,” you say when he pulls away, Evelina going silently feral behind the two of you. You reach up, gently grazing your thumb along the scratch under his eye from Johnny’s stick. You kinda liked how it made him look. But, “as much as I like you, I want the present,” you tell him, taking the box from his arms, leaving Matthew standing there as you pull Evelina to the couch to open the box. Inside are two red jerseys, Lindholm and Tkachuk stitched across the back. “I wonder which one’s mine,” you joke as Matthew sits down next to you. “Thank you,” you tell him, giving him a quick kiss, almost forgetting Evelina is sitting next to you.

“This isn’t the type of thing where you ask us to only wear your jersey and nothing else is it?” you hear Evelina say, pulling you back to reality.

“For you? God, no. For Y/N, however?” he says, putting his arm around you and pulling you into his lap, your cheeks burning while Evelina enjoys every minute of your embarrassment.

He nuzzles into your neck, his lips connecting with your skin as you’re very aware Evelina is right there next to you. “So should I leave without you two, or what?” she asks, Matthew groaning at her words instead of how you were making him feel.

“No,” you say, pulling Matthew away from your neck by his curls, a pout on his face, “We said we would meet the guys, so we need to get going.” As much as you wanted to stay there with him, a promise is a promise.

Matthew pouts as you wriggle free from his grasp, taking the jerseys and bringing them to your rooms. You practically had to drag Matthew off the couch, doing everything in your power to not just send Evelina to the bar and stay there with him. The entire walk to the bar, he had his hand in yours. He and Evelina were bickering about something, you not paying attention. He almost called you his girlfriend. And you liked the idea of being his girlfriend. But you couldn’t justify calling yourself that if you hadn’t actually established that with him first.

Evelina bounces off to find the boys, Matthew staying by your side. “Think of everything we could be doing right now if we were back at your place,” he whispers in your ear as he pulls you close to him. He dips his head down to kiss you, his hands tightening on your hips as he presses you flat against the wall. Your hands stay on his chest, you swear you could feel his heart racing. He pulls away, his forehead pressed against yours. “Can we please just go home?” he begs.

You can’t help but laugh at his pleading, kissing him before gently pushing him off you and leading him through the bar. “We said we would be out with the guys tonight, so we’re going to be out with the guys tonight.”

You finally find the rest of the guys, all having drinks in front of them, clearly buzzed. Even Evelina was already near their level as she polished off what was clearly the rest of Elias’ drink while they were all laughing at whatever story Sean was telling them. “And I look over to the table next to us, and what do I see? These two guys fucking arm werestling in the middle of the restaurant. Their elbows weren’t even on the goddamn table. And, to top it off, one of them is wearing overalls. Nothing else. No shirt or anything underneath. Just. Overalls.”

The boys were going wild, you and Matthew laughing along not nearly as hard as they were, either because it simply wasn’t funny, or because you weren’t as drunk as them. “So what you’re saying is,” Matthew starts, a smirk on his face telling you he was about to chirp his teammate as his arm snaked around your waist and pulled you in to him. “This guy had better style than you?”

That line had you laughing, burying your face in Matthew’s shoulder, him kissing the top of your head while Sean glares at him. “Watch it, Chucky, you don’t want both of your black eyes to come from teammates.”

“You act like Johnny is talented enough to do this on purpose.”

“Hey!” Johnny protests, “I won the Hobey in 2014!”

“How many years ago was that?” Matthew counters, both of you laughing at the site of Johnny trying to do the math in his head.

The boys send themselves into a bickering fight, you and Evelina sitting there laughing at them. They were technically men, professional athletes, arguing with each other over what? Who knew.

“What do you think about Matthew’s battle scars, Y/N?” Elias brings you back into the conversation, all the guys looking at you.

You turn to Matthew, reaching up to touch the cut again. “I don’t know,” you tease, scrunching your face up before turning to them, “You still look like a rat,” you joke. The guys burst out in laughter, Matthew’s face getting red. Just loud enough for him to hear, you whisper into him hear, “But, fuck, it’s hot.”

He kisses you, for a moment forgetting the guys were surrounding you until they start screaming at the sight in front of them. Matthew pulls away, rolling his eyes. “I’m gonna get some drinks for us,” he tells you, getting up and leaving you with his teammates.

“It’s weird seeing him so in love,” Elias says, staring down at his drink.

You feel heat rushing to your cheeks, panic coming over you, suddenly praying that Matthew would come back as fast as he could with your drinks. “In love?” you barely squeak out. Evelina gave you an ‘I told you so’ look. “We’re not in love.”

Elias lets out a laugh, the rest of his teammates feeling the awkward energy that you were producing from being increasingly more comfortable about the prospects that could come from this conversation. “I never said you were. But he’s been in love with you since he met you. It’s nice that he’s finally acted on it.”

You really didn’t know how to react. You had thought that Evelina was just exaggerating this entire time, that he just liked you at most. You were both just horny, the nearest single person to each other. But in love? “Um, I think I’m going to go see where he is,” you say, getting up and leaving before they could say anything else that would make you uncomfortable.

Pushing your way through the crowded bar, you can’t find Matthew ordering the drinks like he said he would. You get up to the bar trying to see if you can find him, ordering your own drink while you wait for him.

“So, I’ve never seen you here before,” a guy’s voice comes in your ear, a chill running down your spine knowing that it wasn’t Matthew’s voice. You just nod at him, hoping that it would give him the signal that you weren’t interested. You turn and look past him, trying to find Matthew in the group of people. “Are you here with anyone? A boyfriend?”

You ignore his weird question, trying to find Matthew in the crowd. You finally spot him, against the wall where he had you pinned when you first walked in. He was leaning there, casually, almost with too much comfort as the girl he talked to laughed and hung onto every word he said. You weren’t bothered by it until you notice he has one drink in his hand, the girl holding a drink that looks much like the one he would have gotten you, a vodka sour. Whatever love Elias thought Matthew felt for you, obviously wasn’t there tonight. Focusing your attention back to the guy in front of you, you swallow hard. “No, no boyfriend.”

“Perfect,” you swear the guy says, moving closer to you as he signals the bartender to get you a drink on his tab. He starts rambling about something, something that you can’t pay attention to while you’re watching the girl talking with Matthew. She was perfect: skinny, pin-straight blonde hair, from where you were sitting she looked to have perfect skin, style way better than yours as you looked down at the simple jeans and plain shirt you had on. He’s fixated on her, clearly because she was attractive. You can’t understand why him talking with another girl is even making you feel this way.

You aren’t his girlfriend. Why should you care? Why do you care?

But why wasn’t he looking over at you and this guy who was so clearly trying to flirt with you?

The guy in front of you keeps talking, either not noticing that you’re not looking at him, or not caring. “Have you heard the one where the guy is found dead but he’s suspended in the air with nothing underneath him?”

You look at this guy, having no idea how you got to the conversation you found yourself in. “He stood on top of a block of ice and died once the ice melted away underneath him. Did you know in Early Hollywood, when child actors were misbehaving on set, they would be sent to the ‘black box,’ which was a block of ice they had to sit on as punishment?”

“That’s nice,” the guy responds, not listening to begin with as he goes on another rant about whatever. Matthew would have had you tell him more about Early Hollywood, watching how you lit up as you told him that on the set of the African Queen, everyone got dysentery from drinking the contaminated water except for Humphrey Bogat and John Huston because they would only drink scotch.

Not listening, you absentmindedly sip the drink the bartender had brought you while you watched Matthew. This shouldn’t be bothering you as much as it did, but seeing her touch his arm while she laughed at whatever he said made you insane. He was there, flirting with another girl, when he said he was getting you a drink. You try to take your focus away from Matthew, the guy much closer to you than you had expected him to be. You could practically feel his hot breath against your skin as he talked, hating every second of it.

Matthew is no longer against the wall, the girl still standing there. You swear she was looking at you, taking your attention away from the guys lips connecting to your cheek. You try to push him off, his hands around your waist refusing to let go.

“Hey,” you hear Matthew’s voice, his hands on your shoulders, prying you away from the guy, “Get off my girlfriend.”

“Matthew-” you try to cut in, your hand on his hand while he holds you back, you trying to pull him away so he doesn’t start anything.

“Hey, she said she didn’t have any boyfriend,” the guy says, putting his hands up in defense.

Matthew turns to you, pain covering his face. He couldn’t look at you without the threat of tears falling, his chest was rising and falling rapidly. He drops his hand, forgetting the guy standing there with you. Trying to stay calm, he bites his bottom lip, shaking his head. “You don’t? That’s great. Good for you,” he says, walking out of the bar.

“Matthew,” you call, running after him. “Matthew, wait!” The cold from the air outside hits you immediately, direct contrast to the humidity you felt in the bar as you try to catch up to Matthew.

You finally do, grabbing his hand and turning him around to face you. His face was red, either from the cold or from his emotions getting the best of him, his eyes shining with tears about to fall. “What? What do you care? Go back in and flirt with him.”

“What about you?” you fire back, Matthew taking a step back at your voice raising, “You said you were getting me a drink and then I find you standing against the wall you were kissing me against not an hour earlier with another girl.”

He scoffs, shock covering your face, “So because we’re seeing each other, I can’t talk to another girl? You’re the only girl I can have in my life?”

“I’m the girl in your life? Who even am I to you? You couldn’t call me your girlfriend in front of Evelina, my best friend, but you can say it to some creep in the bar? Did you just call me that to get him off of me, or do you actually think of me that way?”

He looks down at his shoes, his curls moving more than the rest of his head as he shook it in disappointment. Looking up at you, a sad smile was plastered on his face. “You really don’t know? After all this time, you don’t know how I feel about you? I shouldn’t even have to say it to you, Y/N.”

“I’m not a mind reader, Matthew, I need you to say it. I want you to say it,” you spit back at him, the distance between you too big for your comfort as tears rolled down your cheeks. “We haven’t talked about anything. How am I supposed to know how you feel when I look for you and you have another girl throwing herself at you. You could take home any girl in that bar, except for Evelina, if you wanted to. And who’s to say you wouldn’t?”

“You’re fucking joking,” he says, you taking a step further from him. “There’s no one I want to go home with in that bar besides you. You’re the only one I ever want to go home with.”

“Then what am I to you?” you ask him again, the cold air hitting your cheeks. You knew the people walking around you were stopping to stare at the scene you and Matthew were causing there in the street.

“What about me?” he asks, calmly. “What am I to you? It doesn’t matter what you are to me if you can’t figure that out.” You both stand there in silence. You know Matthew is staring at you but you can’t muster up the courage to look at him. You can’t tell him, for whatever reason. You can’t admit to yourself, to Evelina, especially not to him how you felt. “You know what?” he breaks the silence, “Just go finish your fucking list about why you hate me. It’s certainly better than just being your fuck buddy.”

You feel your breath stop, panic washing over you. “What?”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines #flames #flames imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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snelbz · 3 years

Text

Light Up the Ice - Chapter 9

A/N: Well. It’s been a minute, hasn’t it? I’m sorry, guys, but this story just...wasn’t coming to me for a while. But now we’re back and I am so excited. Since it has been over a year and a half since I updated this one, please forgive us if there are a few details that aren’t perfect from the first chapters. Feels good to be writing my babies again.

Written with @tacmc.

Rowan woke up to the smell of cooking bacon and fresh coffee and he sighed contentedly. It had been two days since the hit that put him out of commission. He was hoping the rest and relaxation he’d enjoyed with his girlfriend would handle it, but it seemed that his body was protesting its natural healing process.

He groaned as he rolled out of Aelin’s bed, smiling when he found Lumi curled up in the hoodie he’d left in her chair in the corner. After giving her a scratch behind the ears, though the cat pretended he didn’t exist, he padded out into the living room, finding Aelin at the stove quietly humming to herself.

“Good morning,” he said, yawning as he pulled out a bar stool and sat down.

Aelin turned, and he was once agIn floored by how gorgeous she was, straight out of bed. That first night, when the fire alarms had pulled them all from sleep, he’d been convinced she’d scrambled to do her makeup before coming out onto the lawn. Waking up next to her two days in a row had proven to him that she was naturally beautiful and he couldn’t help but stare.

“Good morning,” she smiled and set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. “Hurting today?”

“Aye,” he said, stretching his arms in the air. He felt every muscle tense in his upper body and before he could say the words, Aelin beat him to it.

“I think you need to give the team trainer a call today,” she said, placing a plate full of bacon on the counter next to her.

Rowan stared at it, wanting to reach over and snag a piece, but was fairly sure she’d catch him when he grunted in pain trying to lift it. Plus, she was dumping nearly a dozen eggs into a skillet to scramble, so he was hoping she’d be feeding him soon enough. He nodded. “I was going to do that today. I was texting with him last night and he said he and the massage therapist could come here today.”

Aelin smiled. “That would be perfect. I have to go

to work in about an hour, so I’ll feel better knowing someone is here with you.”

He rolled his eyes. “You do know I’m a grown man, right? Lived on my own for about seven years?”

Aelin stuck out her tongue and continued cooking at the stove, before setting a plate down in front of him piled high with eggs, hashbrowns and crispy bacon.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” He asked, as she slid onto the stool next to him.

She smirked and said, “Once or twice, but don’t worry. I’ve got a drunk voicemail to listen to if I ever forget.”

She winked and Rowan felt his cheeks heat, but regardless, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead and began to eat.

After his second full helping breakfast, Aelin got Rowan set up on the couch, babying him the entire time, much to his dismay, and he sent a text to the trainer asking him to call him when he got to the arena that morning. Aelin was getting ready and Rowan was playing NHL on his Xbox when the trainer finally called him back.

“Hey, man,” Rowan answered, pausing the game and propping the phone between his ear and shoulder.

Dorian’s voice came through the receiver. “How ya feeling?”

Rowan groaned as he rotated one of his shoulders. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

With a snort, Dorian chuckled. “Have you seen most of the Pirates’ team? They’re ridiculous; all of them are huge, freaks of nature. Rolfe is no exception.”

With a nod, Rowan cringed. He hadn’t realized the captain of the Skull’s Bay Pirates had been the one to lay the hit on him. “Well, whenever you and Sorscha have time, I’d appreciate it if you could make a house call.” There was silence on the other side of the line. “Dor?”

“Sorscha’s last day was Thursday of last week, I had no clue you didn’t know,” he explained. “The new therapist started yesterday.”

“Oh.” Sorscha had been the team’s massage therapist for years and Rowan vaguely remembered rumors that she’d be leaving them. He just never had them confirmed. “That’s fine, how’s the new guy?”

“She is...a piece of work,” Dorian admitted with a sigh. “You’ll meet her when we come by. You free for us to head that way?”

“Yeah, man, the sooner you get me back in working order, the sooner I can get back on the ice,” Rowan replied, debating on saying something about the home game they had that night.

With a chuckle, Dorian said, “Don’t even think about it, man. You’re not playing tonight. We’ll leave in just a bit and see you soon.”

The call ended and Rowan dropped his phone on the couch. He looked at the clock and hollered, “What time are you off tonight, Ace?”

She poked her head out of her bedroom and said, “Four o’clock, why?”

“Wanna go to the game with me?”

Aelin blinked at him. “You aren’t playing, Ro.”

“No,” he said, standing and stretching - and groaning. “But we can go sit in the player’s box and watch.”

“You want to sit next to me for an entire hockey game and hear my commentary?” She asked, grinning.

Rowan’s grin matched hers as he held out a hand, stepping towards her. She placed her hand in his and he gently pulled her towards him. “I promise I won’t be thinking too much about the game with you there with me.”

Aelin ran her palms down Rowan’s chest. “Well, that’s a tough argument.”

Rowan’s grin widened as he leaned down to kiss her. “You’ll go with me then?”

Aelin nibbled on her lip as she nodded. “If you get your ass on the couch and promise to take it easy today.”

He groaned softly. “Fine. If that’s what it takes.”

“Thank you,” she said, rising up on her toes to kiss him once more and turning back to finish getting ready. “You also have to make an appointment with your trainer.”

“He’s on his way with the sports therapist now,” Rowan said, watching her walk back to her room, enjoying every step she took. He really did try to focus on more than just her ass, but the leggings she wore weren’t helping his cause. When she looked back at him as she paused in the doorway, he had just enough time that she didn’t catch him - not that he thought she’d mind.

“Looks like we’ve got a game to go to then,” she winked, and disappeared into the bedroom.

About thirty minutes after Aelin left for the café, Rowan’s phone rang. “Hey, man. You here?”

His trainer and friend’s usually cheery voice was distinctly pissy. “Open up, Whitethorn. I’ve been knocking on your door for two minutes.”

“Oh, shit.” Rowan was up on his feet with a quiet grunt and ran to the door throwing it open. Dorian stood in front of his own apartment door, down the hall. He called, “Sorry, man, I’m staying with my girlfriend.”

Dorian’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re Aelin’s boyfriend?”

Rowan paused and blinked. “Uh, aye? You know her?”

“I grew up with her, we’ve been friends for years,” Dorian said, the light tone returning. “I told the therapist your apartment number and she’s grabbing her table from the car. I should probably call her-.”

“No, it’s fine, I need to grab a few things from my place anyways,” he shrugged, grabbing his keys off the small table by the door. “We can set up in there so I don’t have to move Aelin’s furniture around.”

Dorian snorted. “Good call.”

Rowan unlocked his apartment and let Dorian in, turning on the lights and carefully moving things out of the way. Painfully.

He grabbed one of his least destroyed game worn jerseys and tossed it over his shoulder. He very much wanted to see her wearing it. “Aelin’s coming to the game tonight,” he said, grinning.

Dorian shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t even know who she is anymore.”

Rowan’s grin only widened.

“Hey, uh, can I come in and see Fleetfoot?” Dorian asked, looking out toward the hallway.

Rowan blinked and said, “I mean, sure.”

They headed back down the hall to Aelin’s apartment, leaving Rowan’s door open for the therapist to carry her gear in. As soon as they entered the apartment, Fleetfoot was bounding towards Dorian, excited like Rowan had never seen her.

Glancing up at Rowan while he rubbed her belly, Dorian grinned. “I gave her to Aelin our junior year of college. I promised if she got all A’s on her finals, I’d get her puppy. Guess who got straight A’s the entire semester?”

Rowan couldn’t help but laugh, smiling and shaking his head. “Sounds about right.”

Dorian’s phone chimed and he stood, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. “Oh she’s all set up and ready for you. Just head back down here when you’re done and we’ll talk about getting you on the ice again.”

“Aye, sounds good,” Rowan said and left, heading for his own apartment. The door was shut now, but he assumed it was just for privacy. He’d had to get sports massages before. They were basically a glorified regular massage. They focused on specific muscles groups, some quite intimate and quite awkward, but for the most part the etiquette was the same.

A dim room, quiet music or white noise of some sort, a special table covered in a white sheet, and the fact that you typically undress and are under just a towel.

Suddenly, Rowan froze with his hand halfway extended toward his doorknob, as he realized he was about to essentially be naked, alone in his apartment, with a woman he’d never met, as she rubbed her hands all over his body.

He’d had to get sports massages before. Just never while he’d had a girlfriend.

Maybe he should ask Dorian to come in and talk while she worked on him.

With a sigh, Rowan realized he was overthinking things. This was her job and he was judging her before he’d even met her. She was probably extremely professional and he was worrying for no reason.

With a shake of his head, he entered his apartment and asked, “Hello?”

A young woman rounded the corner, wiping her damp hands on a paper towel. Her long, black hair was braided back, and by the time her obsidian eyes met Rowan’s, he was frozen in place. For a moment, she didn’t react, and Rowan couldn’t breathe.

And then her eyes lit up and a small grin spread on her thin, red lips. His blood ran cold. He swallowed. “Maeve. What...the hell are you doing here?”

“Ah, Rowan Whitethorn,” she cooed. “We meet again.”

#snacmc #snelbz tacmc collab #light up the ice #Rowaelin hockey fic #LUI #snelbz lui #toab lui #Rowaelin #throne of glass

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adorethedistance · 3 years

Text

British. Handsome. Charming. - Harry Styles x Reader Retail!AU

Sorta requested.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive situations, I say titties like once

Words: 2108

Summary: When your coworker calls out and leaves you alone for a graveyard shift, you unintentionally enlist the help of a certain British, handsome, and charming retail employee from next door.

A/N: Hello this is my piece for @meetmeinfleetwood ‘s “to lovers” fic challenge! I put my ‘to lovers’ trope as Coworkers Harry and Y/n but I’m kind of riffing off of that trope because I wanted to do employees at different stores in the same section of the mall.

“So, Ziva just called out...” I hear my manager Kelly break the news from behind me. A groan threatens to escape my lungs but I fight the urge as best as possible to save face in front of customers. This is the third time Ziva’s called out of her graveyard shift in the past two weeks. Tonight, we were supposed to unpack the new shipment of holiday tees, gag gifts, and decorations. On a normal night, I can handle floor set by myself, but the added challenge of holiday items and displays is a different story.

“If I take another lunch right now, I can stay and help with the floor set.”

“No,” I wave her off, already dreading the exhaustion that is bound to set in, “Go home. You’ve already done your full eight, I can fly solo for tonight.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go before I regret letting you!” Kelly smiles with the tip of her tongue peaking through her teeth. She thanks me for freeing her and I finish straightening the last of the yellow champion hoodies on the rack in front of me.

“The boxes are on the left side in the backroom.” Backroom… got it.

Working at Tilly’s was supposed to be my high school job. At the end of Junior year, I opted for a minimum wage position to earn some extra spending money. If I’d known I would be attending the most local university in this godforsaken town, I would’ve picked a better gig; one that pays more. Or at least one that doesn’t schedule me from 7:30PM to 3AM.

The store closes at ten but the other four ish hours are for rearranging the entire floor layout. I have to redistribute the table full of graphic tees strategically around the store to make room for the holiday items we just received. With someone else’s help I could expect to be finished by 12:30. Maybe 1. Ziva calling out wasn’t part of the plan however, so I don’t expect to be finished early at all. If anything, I might have to rush to finish before my shift ends.

Not to mention I have a prose analysis final draft due tomorrow by midnight. Ziva better have some damn good excuses when she gets back.

Readjusting the waistband of my favorite jeans against my body, I head to the dressing rooms to double check for any stragglers. Upon finding myself alone, I go lock the front doors and flick off the glowing “open” sign in the front window. Hopefully time will fly faster than it has since I got here. I should’ve asked Kelly to grab me a coffee or a coke to get me through the rest of the shift. Maybe I should do some coke to get me through the rest of the shift.

Okay. What did Kelly say?

Backroom... Was that all? I hesitantly prop the storeroom’s door with the small, tan, rubber wedge before trying to take in the overwhelming mess of the backroom. The room has painfully bright overhead LED lights illuminating my path; the brightness is mirrored off the polished concrete floors under my feet. Considering there’s no holiday bullshit directly in front of me, Kelly must have given me more directions than just ‘backroom’. Graphic tees, sunglasses, jewelry. Nothing.

In my most goddamn genius idea yet, I search the top of the self of the storeroom to see the holiday boxes sealed and intact. Lovely. I can graze the surface of the top shelf with my fingertips just enough to get them dusty, but not enough to pull down any boxes.

Fuck.

This is what we have a ladder for, but we lent it out to the Zara next door. I don’t know what time they close but intuition tells me it's soon. Figuring I have nothing to lose, I dash out of the back room and unlock the front door to round the corner into Zara. Right as I exit the store, I run into someone hard enough to lose my balance, but not hard enough to take the other person down, thank god.

“Woahhh, you alright there?” British.

I look up to the face of the person I collided with. Handsome.

“I’m so sorry, I need to get to Zara.”

“I’m afraid you’re too late for that.” The handsome stranger’s statement catches me off guard and the fog of my rushed mindset disappears. Charming.

“What?”

“Jus’ locked up, I’m afraid.” I look at the completely dark storefront, and then back at the stranger. His gleaming green eyes catch mine and, cliché-ly, I’m rendered breathless by the exquisite nature of his face. Employee.

“You work at Zara,” I state dumbly.

“That, I do. And you work…?” Dropping my eyes to my worn work shoes, I’m suddenly overwhelmingly shy about working at Tilly’s.

“Tilly’s, next door. We lent you guys our step ladder and I need it back.”

“Shit,” the man smiles softly, nervously scratching the back of his neck. “I have the key to the store, but I don’t have the key to the supply closet where we kept it.”

“Dammit.” When I pull out my phone to check the time, I groan at the loss of another ten minutes. “By any chance do you guys conveniently have a step ladder that isn’t in an inaccessible closet?” The beautiful man laughs at my question and shakes his head no.

“We don’t, but I am pretty tall, maybe I could help?”

“You’re not that tall.”

“Taller than you.” My teasing is cut short by the man’s quip and I lead him into the store with conviction.

“Basically, I’m supposed to reconfigure the entire floor layout around the table for all the holiday merch, and the shipment came in but someone brilliantly placed them on the top shelf of the back room.”

“Which is why you need the step ladder from the closet that I can’t open. Gotcha.”

“If you could just get those three boxes from the top shelf right there that’d be wonderful.” After clocking the boxes in question, he nods wordlessly, and slips off his nice coat, no doubt a piece from the store next door. Underneath, he’s wearing a grey button up of which he begins rolling up the sleeves to. The action made me stop breathing for a second. His forearms are littered with tattoos of various drawings, one in particular catching my eye.

It’s a two dimensional mermaid figure with no seashell-bra, her skin transitioning into scales only after exposing her pubic bone. In the fluorescent lighting of the store, it’s clear as day that this is quite possibly the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. What’s he doing working at an outlet mall?

Zoning back in, I see he’s already hard at work. With a box no doubt full of gag gifts on his shoulder, he speaks again.

“I’m Harry by the way.”

I return the gesture and he smiles when he hears my name.

“Pretty.”

Returning his attention to the second box, he reaches up to slide the box closer to the edge of the shelf. When he does so, the hem of his grey shirt rides up to reveal a tiny strip of his toned abdomen, where two mirrored stems of fern leaves are tattooed in strikingly black ink.

I blink quickly a few times to redirect my focus, and divert my attention to the floor where he’s set the first box. This leads me to notice the brown suede chelsea boots he’s wearing. Black coat, grey shirt, brown shoes. Interesting.

“Oh shit!” I hear him mutter in a hushed voice. Looking up to the top of the shelf, I see that the last box has already been opened. Harry is balancing it between both limbs, his shoulder, and his head, but any movement would cause the contents of the box to fall out.

I rush forward to help. Moving the flaps of the box back over the top, I reach across Harry’s body to move them. Then, to keep them shut I place one palm on top of the seam, and use the other hand to support the bottom of the box. It isn’t until I stop moving that I notice the position I’ve put us in. I’m reaching up as far as I can to secure the top of the box which has placed the entire front side of my body to the back of his. I’m painfully aware of how my hips are pressed against his ass, and he must be painfully aware of the way my titties are pressed against his upper back.

“I’m gonna move backwards so it’s off the shelf. Just hold the top in place until I have it right side up again, yea?” I nod dumbly in response before realizing he can’t see me.

“Yeah, got it.” And with that he begins to back up little by little, moving at a pace slow enough for me to consistently adjust. The box is almost intact, but I’ve run out of space from standing behind Harry, and I have to maneuver myself around him whilst keeping the box shut. I cringe before doing what I have to do, and shuffling around the side of Harry’s body, my frontside pressed against him the entire time.

Finally, it’s over and we can set the box down on top of the other two. Harry stands up straight again and dusts off his hands. He adjusts his jeans, pulling them back up his hips, and I have to keep myself from staring once more.

“Anythin’ else I can do for you?”

“I don’t think so? That’s pretty much all the heavy lifting I have to do tonight.” He nods understandingly and… dare I say disappointed? I’m probably just projecting.

“Are you alone tonight?”

“Yeah, my coworker called out, but it’s fine. My boss Kelly got most of the work done earlier when she unpacked a lot of the boxes and folded the shirts into piles, so…”

“I could help.”

“You don’t need to do that. You’re already off and I’m sure you’re exhausted and-”

“I want to.” I guess I wasn’t projecting.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. That way you can go home earlier.” His smile is soft and lopsided until we connect eyes, in which case it brightens to reveal his pearly teeth. I fall shy under his gaze and avert my eyes to the concrete floor below us. My cheeks are radiating at about 1000° and I hope he doesn’t notice.

“Thank you,” I say, more flustered than I would have liked. Why am I getting so nervous? He’s just a retail employee at Zara.

A gorgeous employee at Zara.

“I don’t mind staying back... Spending more time with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Since I already know what you do for a living, what are your hobbies?” He ignores my question.

“I don’t have much time for hobbies. I’m only part-time while I’m in uni.”

“No way, what are you studying?”

I proceed to tell Harry all about my major and my career aspirations post-graduation and post-retail. I enjoy telling people about my dreams and yet, Harry’s the first person I’ve met in a long time that’s shown any interest in me and my dreams. The way he nods attentively despite having to fold misconstrued t-shirts and holiday sweaters, ignites a fire in my stomach that warms my heart. They way he asks hyper specific, prompting questions to learn more about my plans contrasts the fire inside me by sending chills down my spine.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What are your dreams?” Harry stops folding for a moment and exhales a conflicted sigh.

“I’m not too sure at the moment. I’m content at Zara for the moment, and I haven’t decided what’s next. I do write music though.”

“You do?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“What kind of music?” He stops to think again, a bit less conflicted than before.

“It’s like, indie-folk-pop-rock ish.”

“Indie-folk-pop-rock ish?” I can’t contain the laughter spilling from my lips over the mountain of folded t-shirts.

“Yeah. A good bit of variety, really.”

“Well, it’s nice you have something to be passionate about.”

“Judging by how you talked about your dreams for an hour, I wouldn’t say I’m as passionate as you are about your studies.”

“Passion isn’t a competition. It’s what moves you forward as an individual.” It’s Harry’s turn to laugh at me.

“Okay, Gandhi.”

“Hush! I’m allowed to be philosophical.” His laugh draws into a closed-mouth smile, from humor to an adoration of sorts.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.” I unintentionally mirror his affectionate smile.

“Promise?”

***

A/N: This was absolutely one of those fics that, the longer I stared at it, the more I hated it and cut it down so here’s what’s remaining before I destroyed the whole thing. It’s def a puff piece and not an in depth fic but nuance is not my friend right now so, sorry about it :(

Taglist: @curlybrownhairedboys @meetmeinfleetwood

#Harry #Harry Styles #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fanfic #Harry Styles fic #Harry Styles writing #Harry Styles imagine #Harry Styles oneshot #Harry Styles one shot #Harry Styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #Harry Styles fluff #Harry Styles angst #Harry Styles smut

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fabulouspotatosister · 4 years

Text

just for a day

summary: What’s a little acting between friends? If friends was even the right word.

word count: (idk yet man lol ) 3,373

request: Hello! I just wanna say your writing is absolutely amazing! If I may, could I request an 11 x reader where the reader’s friends keep bugging them to get a boyfriend, but they say they already do and they have to ask the Doctor to be their “boyfriend” (kind of like with Clara at the beginning of Time Of The Doctor) and eventually leads to feelings being spilt? If not, that’s perfectly fine!

a/n: this got WAYYY too long and for that i am so sorry lmao. i’m writing and posting this on the same day so if there are many mistakes or it doesn’t make sense that’s on me. anyway, i hope you enjoy this fic!

gif credit: @pavel-chekovs

“You’re back!”

You’d expected screaming. You’d expected yelling, and a fair dose of pterodactyl-esque screeching from the students in your advisory class, but what you weren’t expecting was crying. And lots of it. Nearly every fresh-faced elementary student was in tears, some sobbing quietly and some full-on bawling as soon as you walked through the door.

It was nice, cute even, but honestly a little disconcerting.

“Hi, everyone,” you said, shutting the door carefully behind you. The sight of their crying faces immediately activated your Parent Mode. “Are you all okay?”

“Perfectly fine!” Marih chirped, president of the class and therefore a little more levelheaded than the rest, which earned her a handful of disagreeing sighs. “What? Guys, you look ridiculous crying,” she continued, as she wiped her cheeks with the back of her palms and gave you a toothy grin. “We’re just happy you’re here again.”

You smiled at her, and reached out to pat the top of her head. “That’s great and all, but it’s like you guys haven’t seen me in ages.”

A heavy silence fell over the whole class. You saw students shift in their seats and look down at the floor, suddenly very interested in their black school shoes. Even Jaden, the class’s resident troublemaker, didn’t say a word. Marih cringed, ran a hand through her long dark hair, and smoothed the front of her checkered uniform.

“How long have I been gone?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. Marih seemed to cringe away at the question. “I thought I was only travelling for a week!”

“Actually,” Marih said, stretching out the word, “you’ve been gone for three months?”

Your mouth fell open. You stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, before you dug into your pocket and fished out your phone – she was right, it had been exactly three months and a week since you’d left the school to go travelling.

You groaned. “Oh, I’m going to kill him.”

By travelling, you meant time travelling and by him you meant the Doctor. The madman in a box that you’d run off with. You had let him turn your life upside down in the best way possible since he dragged you into the TARDIS, with his stupidly gorgeous smile and eyes and – you were getting off topic. Now you were plotting the murder of the man that you would consider to be the most incredible thing that had ever happened to you.

“Hey, ma’am?” came a soft voice from the front of the room. Karyll, with her tied-back hair and glasses, looked up at you from her seat. “Why are you looking like you’re going to kill someone?”

“’Cause I am,” you said cheerily, shoving your phone back into your pocket. Oh, you were going to have words with him, and they would most definitely not be nice ones. “Have I missed anything big? Were you nice to my substitute?”

A collective wave of disagreement swept over the class, and you couldn’t help but let a smile slip onto your face. These were your babies after all, and if you’d really been gone for three months then they were sorely missing their Second Mom.

Maybe the tears weren’t that much of a surprise after all.

“Okay, good morning everyone! Now, if we’re still on schedule, and I really hope we are, we should be talking about integers…”

The late afternoon sun drifted through the curtains of your classroom, filling the room with an almost hazy glow as you sat with your best friends in a haphazard circle of desks. Your kids had all gone home already, and a little pile of flowers and chocolates sat neatly on your shelves, right beside your lesson plan folders.

Denise leaned forward to look at them, her curly hair falling over her face. She was the elementary students’ science teacher, and was so well-organized it was almost inhuman. She would have liked the planet where everything was arranged alphabetically, you thought.

“I’m jealous, my students never give me gifts,” she said as she leaned away. “Sis, where have you even been?”

“Long story,” you replied, and it was. You weren’t sure if you could fit everything you’d been through – travelling through time, going to planets lightyears away, and of course all of the near-death experiences – into a story that you could tell in under an hour, and you weren’t going to try.

“And you’ve been travelling? By yourself?” Julianne, an arts teacher, raised her eyebrows at you from behind her laptop. “God, that’s lonely. Oh – unless…” Her calm expression morphed into something truly evil in your line of work – mischievousness. “Unless you had someone with you.”

“I mean –” Oh no, this was going to be hard to get out of. “I mean, I wasn’t alone,” you said, hoping the smile on your face was enough to mask your utter fear. You knew exactly where Julianne was going and you hated it. “I was with someone.”

“Ooh,” Julianne said, her grin growing so sly it was sending shivers up your spine. “You’ve been gone three months, has anything happened between you and your travel buddy?”

Heat rushed to your face. If you were a cartoon character steam would be pouring from your ears. “Why would you say something like that?”

Julianne shrugged. “We’ve been telling you to get a boyfriend for so long. You said you’d be gone a week, and then you disappear for three months… that kinda says something, don’t you think, Denise?”

“Definitely.” Denise grinned, and you shot her a helpless look.

“We’re doing this because we love you,” Julianne sang. The light from her laptop was enough to make her look absolutely menacing. “So? Travel buddy? Or more than that?”

The Doctor wasn’t just a travel buddy, and he was so much more than that – but you hadn’t found the words for what he meant to you, at least not yet. Companion was enough for you and him, but even then, there was a weight to that word. And there was definitely a weight to your partnership, but you wouldn’t call it… dating.

Julianne simply waggled her perfectly shaped eyebrows at you. You swallowed. You and the Doctor were a long story too, and Julianne wasn’t going to be happy with “maybe” for an answer.

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Fine, he’s my boyfriend!”

I want to crawl into a hole and die was your inner monologue, and your background music was Julianne and Denise’s raucous laughter. I want to crawl into a hole and never have to face the world ever again.

Smash cut to you, standing nervously in your bedroom, gripping your phone so tightly you were sure it was going to break. Your plans of killing the Doctor for dropping you off late would have to wait. The phone rung once, twice, and you chewed your lip. If he was in the Time Vortex, any version of him could answer the phone and you couldn’t deal with that on top of everything, not today at least –

“Hello?”

You heaved a sigh of relief at the sound of the Doctor, your Doctor’s voice. “Help?” you squeaked out.

“Help?” the Doctor repeated. There was a blaring noise, and then the sound of electricity crackling. Something fizzled and popped, and the Doctor shouted something that sounded like a swear. “Oh, shut it – you – sorry, sorry. You were saying?”

“Uh, where are you right now? Are you somewhere?” you asked.

“I’m not somewhere, I’m drifting! Right above Earth, approximately right where you are,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. It quelled your anxiety somewhat. “I’m doing maintenance. Agh – ow! I think I can see the roof of your house through the clouds, unless that’s someone else’s house. What color is your roof?”

You giggled. “It’s brown. You’re in the same time as me?”

“’Course I am,” the Doctor said. You heard the clanging sound of metal being dropped. “I never left.”

The Doctor liked to run off on his own when you were home and have his own mini-adventures. He liked to come back and say he’d spent his time with alien royalty, or something like that. But instead he was staying put, he was waiting, for you. It made the next part so much harder.

“I need you to be my boyfriend,” you said quickly, covering your burning face with your free hand.

“Oh,” the Doctor said simply. Another clang.

Oh? “Just for a day,” you coughed. “I kind of said that I had a boyfriend, and that he was my travel buddy, and now my friends kind of want to meet you. It’s my grade’s family day tomorrow, maybe you could, uh, show up?”

“And be your boyfriend,” the Doctor said.

You nodded, then, “And be my boyfriend. Just for the day. You never have to show up again.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a second you thought the Doctor was going to say no – he had every right to, of course, and you could just lie and say that he couldn’t show up – but the Doctor laughed, cheerful and warm. “Ding-dong! Okay! What time tomorrow? I have to study, I’m a bit rusty in places.”

Your mouth fell open for the second time in twenty-four hours. “You’re serious?”

“Very! Any pet name preferences?”

You groaned loudly, and the Doctor laughed again. “Shut up!”

“Alright, alright. Guess I’ll have to do my own research.”

There was another moment of silence, and when the Doctor spoke again, it was much softer, much less playful. His voice almost sounded fond. “Goodnight?”

“Goodnight, Doctor,” you said softly, and the call cut off with a series of short beeps.

Was it a surprise that you barely slept at all? You had spent the whole night with your imagination running at full capacity, your mind latching onto every single thought and concept it could come up with. You slipped in and out of sleep, lying still in bed whenever a possibility popped into your head. To say you were nervous was the understatement of the year – but what was a little acting between friends?

If friends was the right word for it.

You waited for the Doctor behind the school, leaning against the concrete wall and watching the TARDIS fade into this plane. Wind blew into your face as the TARDIS groaned and wheezed, eventually materializing in front of you.

“I’m not late, am I?” the Doctor said, sticking his head out of the TARDIS doors. He grinned widely, his hair falling into his face. You grinned back at him and pushed yourself off the wall.

“You’re early, which is a first,” you said. The Doctor frowned at you, stepped carefully out of the TARDIS, and frowned some more. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I think I’ve earned the right to look at you however I’d like,” the Doctor huffed, adjusting his bowtie. He’d ditched the tweed for the day, it seemed, going with a long green coat that annoyingly complimented his eyes. The frown didn’t last very long, though, because he went right back to grinning brightly at you. He held out his elbow in your direction. “Shall we?”

“Here’s the lucky girl,” Julianne cooed as you walked into the empty canteen. All the tables were pushed aside to make space for all the games you’d be playing – in the corner of your eye, you saw the Doctor light up at the sight of all of the streamers and balloons. “And here’s the lucky boy – oh my god, Denise.”

“What?” Denise popped up from behind a large speaker, then blanched. “Oh, now I’m double jealous.”

The Doctor pulled away from you to lightly kiss both of Julianne’s cheeks in greeting. Julianne looked positively starstruck when he stepped back to stand beside you, quickly waving Denise over. Denise had her mouth hanging open, still clutching a microphone in her hands.

“Hi,” you said, gesturing at the Doctor, “here’s my boyfriend.”

The Doctor raised his hand and smiled. “Hello! I’m John Smith, lovely to meet you both. You’re my girlfriend’s girl friends, I assume?”

“Uh –” Denise blinked owlishly. “Yeah, we are.” Then, quietly and to herself, “Holy moly.”

You couldn’t help but grin at their flabbergasted faces. The Doctor rested his hand on the small of your back, and you leaned into his touch as if it was the most normal thing in the universe. That was enough to make Denise stumble into Julianne, who barely even reacted, as she was still staring wide-eyed at the both of you.

“I think we caught them off guard,” you said. The Doctor chuckled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“You did when we met, sweetheart,” the Doctor said smoothly. Sweetheart echoed in your ears and bounced off the walls of your already racing mind. Your heart stuttered in your chest. That was bad.

“Oh, are we doing charm now?” you asked. “Are you trying to be charming?”

“I did say I would study,” the Doctor said.

“You guys are insufferable,” Denise said, but she was beaming at you. “If you could get your hands off of your travel buddy for just a few minutes, I need help with the mics, the families are gonna be here any minute…”

Her voice trailed off as she walked back to the speaker. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss the Doctor’s cheek, feeling his skin heat up underneath your lips. “See you later.”

“…See you,” the Doctor echoed, and bent down to kiss your cheek too. He turned on his heel and walked towards the decorations, softly muttering, “Ooh, balloons! Love a good balloon…”

You stared at him for longer than you should have, watching him poke and prod at the balloons lying on the tables. He put his face very close to one and smiled at his reflection in the plastic. Affection welled up in your chest, and a tiny smile slipped onto your face.

“Look at you, you’re smiling at him,” Julianne chimed, sidling up to you and nudging your side. “That’s disgusting.”

“Says the girl who said I needed to get a boyfriend,” you shot back.

The Doctor went still for a little bit and turned to face you, smiled and winked, then went right back to inspecting balloons. Julianne made a strangled noise, and you made one too. So he was doing charm, and you hated to admit that it was absolutely working on you.

“I meant to say disgustingly adorable,” Julianne said. “You’re so lucky.”

You gave him another glance as you walked away to help Denise with the mics – “help with the mics” was apparently code for “I’m going to tease you more about your new boyfriend” which wasn’t helped by the fact that every so often, the Doctor would look in your direction and just smile, which was enough to make you stumble over your own words and give Denise more teasing fodder.

The parents and their kids eventually filed into the canteen and you flipped into Teacher Mode. You stood next to your students, pinched their cheeks and then greeted all of the parents and got everyone ready for the program. (You didn’t notice how the Doctor mirrored you, standing a little far away and watching, a dumb smile on his face.)

Julianne and Denise were the emcees for the family day, big smiles on their faces as they rounded up everyone for the games. At the mere mention of games, the Doctor was back at your side at an instant, his eyes glittering with excitement.

“Please don’t destroy the kids,” you pleaded.

“No promises,” he replied, and then proceeded to destroy the kids in most of the games.

The first game had Julianne call out for whoever could bring an item of her choice to the table – the Doctor, with his coat that was surely bigger on the inside, had no trouble pulling out whatever was asked. Even when Julianne started to test the waters and ask for increasingly insane items, the Doctor just kept going. He jumped in joy like a little kid at the win, bounding up to you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. You’d just blushed and smiled, ignoring the butterflies that were multiplying in your stomach.

The Doctor holding your hand wasn’t new. The Doctor being close to you wasn’t new. The Doctor being affectionate with you wasn’t new. But now it was all under the guise of being your boyfriend. Of course it felt different, but to your surprise and growing horror, it didn’t feel bad.

The Doctor shouting your name snapped you out of your thoughts. He was standing on a piece of newspaper as Denise started to get music ready, waving his arms to beckon you over. His coat was gone, thrown onto a nearby table, and even without it he was dashing.

“I need you over here!” he yelled, still jumping excitedly. His hair bounced up and down with the movement. “I need a partner!”

You let your feet carry you to him, trying to ignore the stares pointed your way. The Doctor took your hand in his and pulled you onto the newspaper.

“Stay close,” the Doctor said. “I’ve got this.”

Loud, thumping music filled the air. The Doctor spun you around and you squealed in surprise, moving your feet clumsily to the music. Suddenly, it stopped, and the Doctor pulled you back onto the newspaper. It was a tight fit, and you had to press yourself against his body to even stay standing. The butterflies in your stomach went crazy at the contact, and once again you tried to ignore that, too.

“What did I say?” the Doctor breathed, his breath tickling your ear, his smile wide and manic. “Let’s dance!”

The paper got smaller and smaller, and the two of you got closer and closer. Sweat started to bead on your forehead, and the Doctor had rolled his sleeves up in the middle of all the chaos. In the end, it was just you and another pair of parents, tiptoeing on their own folded pieces of newspaper.

“I’ve got an idea,” the Doctor said, his voice loud over the music. “When the music stops, jump into my arms.”

“Seriously?!” you shouted, and the Doctor nodded enthusiastically. “You’ve got the balance of a drunk giraffe! You’ll drop me!”

“Do you trust me?” the Doctor asked.

There wasn’t any question. “I do!”

“Then jump!”

The music stopped, and in the split second where the Doctor stepped onto the now-tiny folded newspaper, you ran and leapt. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to catch you at all, and in your mind you could already see it – you crashing into him and sending you both tumbling to the floor.

The Doctor’s arms shot out and caught you. Cheers erupted from everyone in the canteen, and behind you your competitors both lost their balance and fell face-first onto the floor. You wrapped your arms around the Doctor’s neck to steady yourself in his arms, feeling him shake slightly as he kept you aloft.

“We won!” you gasped, still basking in all of the cheering. “As expected from my lovely boyfriend.”

The words left your mouth as easily as breathing. You smiled up at the Doctor, breathless from all of the dancing. His skin shone with sweat, his hair was a mess, and his bowtie was askew, but even that was enough to make you throw all caution to the wind – still in his arms, you pulled him down and kissed him.

Cheers erupted from everyone again, but you could care less. The room could be empty and nothing would have changed. As cliché as it sounded, all the mattered was the feeling of the Doctor’s lips against yours. Your hands found their way into his hair and he melted into your touch, pulling you closer to him.

“You know,” the Doctor breathed as he pulled away, “I don’t want this to be just for a day.”

“Good,” you replied. You leaned up to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Because I don’t either.”

#doctor who #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #11th doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction #eleventh doctor fanfiction #oh god i spend too long on the intro for this i'm so sorry

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missed-connections-of-fear · 3 years

Text

on avatarhood post-fearpocalypse

Not sure how to write this one down. When I haven't been actively putting it off, I've been starting and deleting this for the past hour or so. I think a place of honesty is the best way I can carry forward. So, uh, four things:

1. This isn't really much of a lost connection. Sorry.

There are some people I encountered that I do, genuinely, want to see and/or hear from again. There are others that, while I don't want to see again, I am morbidly curious to see where they ended up. The only problem is that, well, in some ways I did lose connection! Internet connection. Voluntarily.

After the apocalypse, I just didn't touch the internet for months. It was annoying as hell, but I absolutely had to. For the first month after I got home, I kept most of my electronics in a box. Stayed as far away from social media as possible, and am still trying to. This is because--

2. My domain was... weird.

As in: my domain was my phone. I think.

No, I wasn't (physically) trapped inside of it, or attached to it in a dependent way. Well, I guess in some ways I was trapped in there, right? When I realized that my phone was... I don't know, malevolent? Influencing me? Influencing others? When I realized that, I tried to break it or throw it away a few times, but it'd remain in tact, or just come back like the world's weirdest boomerang.

But even during the apocalypse, it was just a normal phone (aside from not running out of battery). It was my only degree of normalcy, so I started to make diary vlogs. I thought it was really funny how TikTok was still operational, so I decided to post some there for kicks just to see what other people thought. Hell, I just wanted to know if there were other people still out there.

I didn't want to think about the implications. I still don't. Call me a coward if you'd like: I certainly do.

3. I need to find someone else like me.

The main reason I'm writing this here, now, is that I want to know I wasn't the only one who had a domain like this. I hadn't realized how literal some domains were until everyone else in my life started to talk about it, and for--er, reasons--I wanted to keep my mouth shut just in case whatever I said gave someone the wrong idea.

I really need to hear that I'm not the only one whose domain wasn't a place. I really want to hear that there's someone else out there who--I don't know, wasn't confined to a location but was still afraid. Apparently there were some people who just can't feel afraid and weren't affected, and there was this whole thing about Melanie King "severing a connection" or whatever, but... I was neither of those things.

I've always been a little emotionally detached, but that didn't mean I wasn't fucking terrified, y'know? I could see the Change from my apartment window and I thought my family's mental illnesses were finally catching up to me. There are so many things I thoughtlessly recorded that I ended up deleting once everything stopped. I don't even know why I thought it'd be a good idea to keep those, even if it was just to reaffirm to myself that it was, in fact, happening.

Recently I bought a new phone. The dread remains all the same whenever I look it.

4. I think I was an Avatar.

I tried to delay the inevitable as long as I could, but that was probably, deeply, unfair. And this is starting to get away from me very fast, so I think I need to get to the point, like, now.

I don't want to get too deeply into it--"it" being all the warning signs and personal trauma and whatever the fuck entails "becoming an Avatar." I might have even been an Avatar even before the Change; I genuinely don't know, but it doesn't matter much to me anymore.

(My personal opinion is that, in the apocalypse--and if evidence suggests, before it--there was a spectrum with two ends when it came to the entities: the fearful and the feared. One ate, one was eaten, and your point on that spectrum could be shifted at any time. Any time.)

That aside, I genuinely don't know what entity I "served" or whatever. It was part coping and part survival the entire way through for me. Beholding seems like the obvious choice, since I was recording and talking to people, but... I embodied a lot of other things too. I think if I explain it, it'll make more sense:

Sometime into making my vlogs, I started running into other people. They'd always be a little bewildered to see me, but whatever torture they were enduring or inflicting would just... come to a halt. In the beginning, I didn't even realize that the people were going through hell: I was just so relieved to see someone that I'd call out to them, ask them how they were doing, sit with them and just relish the company of a human being for awhile. I didn't even realize the camera was recording some of the time.

And those first few times, I'd practically beg the person (or people) to come with me. They always accepted, even though I was simultaneously super clingy and closed-off. They always put up with me and my stupid phone. But they were never able to stick around.

By the time I stopped remembering faces, I stopped asking.

I had resolved to find somebody important to me in the very beginning, so I was always travelling. But I never stopped trying to talk to anyone I found. I'd always say some shit like, "Care to introduce yourself to the viewers?" and, "So tell us what traumas are going into your cringe compilation," and other influencer lingo just to lighten the mood, but some things--referring to the "viewers" and speaking about myself in the plural--became reflex.

And our conversations always came with the expectation of speaking of some sort of trauma. A tiny part of me always looked forward to it: I always tried to remind myself that people wanted to talk about themselves, their problems, and to be able to talk; that I was just one of many people in a bad situation and that I shouldn't prioritize my own suffering.

But I think... well, if I describe it, there's no damn way I won't be called a sociopath by someone. So just assume that I uncomplicatedly enjoyed their pain and pat yourself on the back for being able to believe you're still morally upright after all this time.

Sorry. It's just... I've been thinking about how people might respond a lot. I've curated a lot of this just to make sure no one tries to witch-hunt me while still trying to keep my story believable.

I think that's a sign to stop digging my own grave.

Apologies for how long it got in the end there, haha. I'm trying to... not really put this all behind me, I don't think any of us can. I've accepted what had become of me--or, well, I'm in the process of it--thus why I'm back on the internet in the first place.

I haven't gotten rid of the old phone yet, because... I've been thinking about uploading some of the videos I've recorded. From the Fearpocalypse. I desperately want to delete all of it, to keep it out of reach (my reach, particularly), but I... I think it needs to be archived somewhere. Anywhere.

You’re not an advice column, but since I’ve already gotten this far… well, I shouldn’t ask more than that. If I upload those videos, and you recognize me or yourself, feel free to reach out. I live in East Texas, but I somehow stumbled across some domains in Britain, Egypt, Japan, the Philippines, etc… (I didn’t learn about the Entities until the late leg of the apocalypse, so I was just trying to find domains that seemed to connect to the fears of the person I was looking for. Lots of Lonely, Slaughter, and End domains.)

(ROSE’S NOTES: damn another long post, I don’t know what to say. I uh. I hope you can find comfort in the internet again. I personally don’t know what i’d do if I had that domain. The internet is a safe place for me and has been for nearly a decade. Damn. Rose getting into stuff she should talk to a therapist about huh? Anyways. I guess to make a post that’s already long longer, I hope this post has made you feel better. I hope you find someone to talk with who understands what you went through. Take care my friend)

#the magnus archives #tma #unreality #unreality tw #missed connections of fear #submission

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theartofimagining13 · 3 years

Photo

CHAPTER 4: THE CHEATER CHEETAH DRESS.

WRITTEN BY: A.Wölf.

BASED ON: Imagine: After a big discussion with your fiancé Tom…

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: 1 DISENGAGEMENT | 2 THE TALE OF THE OFFENSE | 3 THE WEDDING GUEST

TEASER | POSTER | CHAPTER POSTER | CHAPTER TEASER

NOTES: First and foremost, I would like to thank @clockgirl94 because if she hadn’t sent me that Javier gif, this chapter wouldn’t have been born. ❤︎

I was reluctant to write spanish dialogue translations but then I remembered that spanish is my first language and maybe not everyone else’s lol.

And also, there’s a subtle POV change.

Enjoy.

Funny how some humans’ defense mechanism works only in retrospect.

You get out of a messy situation, and it is only when you look back that things are crystal clear and you ask yourself why did I not see this before?

I was sitting on the floor, surrounded by boxes. After our honeymoon, Tom bought a bigger house in a quieter area of the city for us to move into. As I unpacked my clothes, I found a little summer dress that I hadn’t seen in months and I might as well have used as a noose because, as soon as I saw it, as soon as I touched it, I was out of breath and felt the biggest knot in my throat. There’s violence in the way some memories come back to us with an object or a smell; that seemingly insignificant piece of fabric unleashed in my mind a wild river of memories.

I chuckled at myself.

If I had truly wanted to forget, I would’ve burned the fucking dress but I had only managed to stash it at the bottom of a forgotten drawer, and now it was here. I got up and neatly placed it on the bed and stared at it. I suddenly felt a kiss on my left temple. Tom walked past me afterwards holding another heavy box and I saw the curious face he made once he left it on the floor and noticed the dress.

“You haven’t worn that in a long time.”

“I know…”

He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“You should.” He purred in my ear before planting kisses down my neck. “You drive me crazy in it.”

My heart raced when he held me tighter and spun me around. He caught my lips with his and I felt his hands going down my back. This was triggering for me, I had to stop him without being suspicious so I gently pulled away.

“Take me out on a date when we’re done here and I just might wear it.” I lied.

Tom let out a quiet pleasure groan in advance at the mental image perhaps.

“You got yourself a deal, baby.”

He gave me a quick peck on the lips and left to carry on with the move.

I sighed. See, the thing is, Tom wasn’t the only one who that dress drove crazy, and by now, I am pretty sure we’ve established that he and his former best friend, Pedro, liked the same things. As I stared at it again, I let myself go and revisited that particular memory in the forbidden recollections book.

Tom and I were hosting a summer cookout for a few friends and family in our old garden.

It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day in June, and I was wearing the now infamous cheetah print dress with combat boots. Tom had proposed a few days prior, and I hadn’t told Pedro. The thought alone made me nervous because how was I supposed to even form that sentence?

Hello, lover. I just got engaged.

Cringe. Of course not. Which is why I chose not to wear the ring for the occasion.

It didn’t get any easier when I saw Pedro as I walked out into the backyard. He was helping Tom with the grill and the charcoal, with a beer bottle in one hand but looked up at me and stared almost longer than politically correct. And the way he did it, slowly from head to toe and with slightly parted lips which made me feel things I shouldn’t have felt; but that ship had sailed. I kept my distance mingling with others at the party and he stayed there talking to Tom for a while.

I wish I had heard that conversation.

“I asked her to marry me.” Tom said with the biggest grin. “She said yes, mate.”

Pedro tensed up and stared at Tom, he swallowed and washed down a million sour words he could’ve said with the swig of beer he took.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Tom chuckled. “I was… terrified.”

“Well, who in their right mind would ever do that?” Pedro half joked.

“You say that now…” Tom said. “But you just wait. I mean, look at her. Can you blame me?”

Pedro tightened his jaw as he glanced at her one more time and spoke through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, I’ve told you a million times that you’re a lucky motherfucker.” He said causing Tom to laugh. “I gotta take a leak.” Pedro announced dryly. “Hey, you got anything stronger than this?” and immediately added, “We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”

“There’s whiskey inside.”

“I’ll get it.”

He started to walk away but stopped to look back at Tom, realizing that he had forgotten something.

“Congratulations, man.” He forced a smile.

When Pedro walked into the bathroom, he splashed his face with cold water and scowled at himself in the mirror.

I put a big pitcher of lemonade in the fridge before I went upstairs but I stopped midway when I heard the hallway bathroom door opening and closing, and instinctively looked over my shoulder only to find Pedro.

I couldn’t read his expression so I kept walking, hoping that he would follow me, and aching for a moment with just the two of us alone. I faced him when I reached mine and Tom’s bedroom door and leaned against it with my hands behind my back. He got closer and placed his right hand right next to my head, towering over me as he stared into my soul.

“You think you can just walk around in that little dress and get away with it?”

“You like it?” I teased.

He slowly looked down and up again, provokingly.

“It’s driving me crazy.” He confessed in almost a whisper.

I allowed my eyes to wander and make sure that we were completely alone before I leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was cold, empty, so unlike Pedro’s trademark passionate ones, and he was rarely in a bad mood which made it twice as scary when he actually was, but I had no idea if that was the case. I pulled away and furrowed my eyebrows with concern. He cleared his throat and sniffed loudly.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” He inquired with the most serious face and tone.

“What do you mean?”

But he just cocked his head with condescendence and, it took me a minute, but I figured out what he was talking about.

“He told you.” I sighed. “Pedro, I was going to tell you, I just-”

“When were you going to tell me?” He cut me off.

“I-I don’t know, I couldn’t find the right w-”

I ceased talking and flinched when he struck the door with the hand that had been resting next to my head.

“Fuck’s sake…” He cursed and roamed a little with his hands on his waist.

Back then, silly me thought he was jealous, hell, I even liked it a bit. But no. Pedro was worried.

“Now?” He asked with a much more collected tone. “He had to propose now?”

Looking back, this was the only moment Pedro felt a little remorse. He was worried because my engagement had just made things even more complicated. Ironically enough, our affair had only started when this happened; we had been meeting in secret for a few weeks. We could’ve stopped then while Tom hadn’t a clue, could’ve pretended that it never happened and move on. Pedro and Tom’s friendship would’ve remained intact.

Pedro was a hypocrite, we’ve also established that. Somehow, it was okay to fuck his best friend’s girlfriend but once I became his fiancée, Pedro looked like he had finally encountered a line he could not cross.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” He wondered out loud while looking over my shoulder as if he could see Tom in the backyard, through the door and walls.

Truthfully, I was very happy with my diamond ring, so, I also started pondering on my future with Pedro. The fact that our affair had just started had a pro and a con in common; Pro, We had only just begun which would make it easier to cut ties right then and there. Con, we had only just begun which would make it ten times harder to quit right then and there.

I sighed with frustration when I had that moment of honest clarity.

��I guess we could… stop?” I hesitantly asked and hated it to no end.

Pedro’s face fell and he studied me briefly but carefully.

“I mean,” I added. “People might get hurt.”

Pedro blinked several times and slowly began to nod.

“You’re right. We don’t… we don’t want that. We’ve been lucky.”

But I swallowed hard because I could easily tell that he loathed this as much as I did.

“We should just… be friends.”

Again, his brown eyes traveled up and down my body and he gulped.

“Friends.” He echoed.

My heart was racing in the middle of the staring contest we seemed to be having, and I felt as if he could hear it over the silence we shared. He inched closer.

“Is…is that what you want?” He inquired.

At that point, that was the only right thing left to do, and to sort of mend things or prevent them from getting worse. But Pedro understood my silence when I just glued my eyes to his.

“Open the door.” He ordered.

As soon as I did, he followed me inside, closing it behind him and kissed me on the lips in the most urgent way, and I thought my heart would leap out of my chest. I could feel his hands going down my back as he kissed my neck and chest, and I turned around and faced the bed because I knew what we both wanted and needed. He pressed me against his body and cupped my breasts. I could feel him getting hard and it weakened my knees. His hands went underneath my dress and he pulled down my underwear before pulling the skirt up.

The sound of Pedro unbuckling his belt in a rush reverberated in my core. I desperately needed him inside of me, I wanted and needed him to fuck me till we both came. He licked his fingers and touched me, letting out a silent and proud chuckle because I was more than ready for him. Our foreplay had started from the moment he decided to eye fuck me as soon as I showed up in the garden, and our little conversation was the sugar on the rim. He lowered his pants enough to pull out his cock and caressed my entrance with the tip, using his free hand to gently and slightly bend me over the bed.

And he tortured me like this for a few seconds that felt much longer to me, inserting just the tip, slowly going out and in again until I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore and he finally quickened the pace. I wanted more. I needed more. I needed him, all of him, and I moaned when he finally granted me my wish.

“Fuck…” He breathed out and just stayed inside of me while I adjusted to him.

Pedro grabbed me by the hips with a tight grip and started fucking me like I had been silently begging him to; Hard and fast and just making me his. His low grunts and his ragged breath were turning me on even more. One of his hands slid up my back until his fingers got lost in my hair and he grabbed a fistful as he kept pounding into me, but it moved down to my neck, prompting me to stand up straight as he wrapped his arms around my waist and one greedy hand cupped one of my breasts.

“Te gusta? (You like it?)”

I groaned. I loved it when he whispered things in Spanish in my ear, and adding the fact that we had to be as quiet as possible was driving me over the edge.

“Dime. (Tell me).”

“Yes.” I breathed out. “Pedro…”

He chuckled again, knowing what I was implying and begging for, and he nibbled my neck before whispering once more.

“Te quieres venir? (You want to cum?)” He asked even though he knew I was dying to cum. I could even hear his mischievous grin. “Vente, mi amor. (Cum, my love).”

The rhythm of his thrusts increased again and he held me tighter. My whole body tensed up, I could feel it, the tingling sensation slowly taking over until it possessed me whole, mind and soul. Pedro had to cover my mouth as I came undone in his arms, he held onto me for dear life and buried his face in the crook of my neck as he poured himself into me and let out a suffocated moan against my skin.

With relief washing over us, our heart rates began to settle, and our foreheads were covered with a thin layer of sweat.

As I freshened up and washed my face, I stared at myself in the mirror and wondered if that had been the last time for Pedro and I.

Perhaps we had said goodbye in the only way we knew how.

I entered the kitchen and poured myself a much needed glass of ice cold lemonade before I was joined by my fiancé.

“I think we should tell them.” Tom said while taking out a few more meat packages from the fridge.

“What?” I asked in a blissful yet lethargic daze.

“About our engagement.” He placed them on the counter.

He stood in front of me, waiting as if he was asking for permission and looked at my glass of lemonade which he ended up stealing to take a sip.

But when he looked down at my hand, he frowned.

“Where’s your ring?” He asked.

“Oh, I… I took it off when I washed my hands and must’ve left it in the bathroom.” I lied.

“Put it on.” He said.

It was all the same now, Pedro knew. So, I did as I was told for Tom to make the announcement in the garden. I heard the three C’s of celebration; clamoring, cheering, and clapping, but all I could see was Pedro sitting in the back, and when his brown eyes found mine, he just showed a cynical smile and raised his glass of whiskey, at me, the cheeky bastard who had just fucked the fiancée in the cheetah dress.

Or the cheater in the dress.

I was sure that Pedro was just as addicted to me as I was to him. Engagement or not, we just weren’t ready to stop. If anything, he craved me more fiercely than before, and that ring on my finger just turned him on even more.

We had only just begun.

I blinked several times as the arousing memory dissolved and I became aware of my surroundings.

I bit my lip and wondered if Pedro still thought of these encounters of ours. I asked myself if he missed me, if he thought about me, if he touched himself while doing so, if he envisioned me while fucking someone else. Or the possibility of an ugly truth where he had just moved on and I meant nothing, but then I remembered my wedding day and his drunken honesty.

Of course he fucking thought of me.

#IN HIS ARMS #Pedro Pascal #Tom Hiddleston #Fanfic #Fiction #Fanfiction

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hatsukeii · 4 years

Note

One where y/n has been obviously in love with Tsuki since they were kids and not afraid to show it, but he’s always been lowkey mean to her and thinks she’s annoying and then finally years later she decides he’s not a nice guy and let’s him know she’s fine with all that crap and then he realizes he’s falling for her and does something really sweet for her and they fall in love? 😭😭🥺👉🏻👈🏻 ty in advance. Sorry if this is too long or specific, if it is, feel free to ignore

I genuinely hope you didn’t think I would actually ignore this<33

IM SORRY IM A MASTER PROCRASTINATOR ILY ALL AND YOU ALL DESERVE AN APOLOGY FROM ME

Dear diary//Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k+

Warnings: Cursing

Genre: Angst??? I guess???

Summary: He’s an ass, but you still love him to bits, and it’s killing you.

July 16, 2008

Dear Diary,

I got to play with Tsukki again! He had his dino with him, it was super cute! He told me his front teeth came off last night, and there’s a big hole in his teeth, but it’s okay, because he said it will grow back. I tried to hold his hand while going down the twin slides but he said it was sweaty, so next time I’ll wear gloves!

You flip through the hot pink diary, cringing at your young infatuation. Your diary entries were cringey as fuck, but they always rekindle something within you whenever you read them. You can’t even remember when you stopped writing in the book. Was it when you turned 10? Maybe 12? You don’t have a single clue.

April 30, 2011

Dear Diary,

Tsukki refused to marry me in the playground at break:(( I’ve known him for so long though, aren’t we supposed to get married? I just wanna hold his hand and hug him and give him a biiiiig kiss<33

Chuckling at the memory, you recalled the event from that entry clearly. You were seven years old only, still an immature kid. You still thought that getting married in a middle school playground was a huge milestone in life, almost as crucial as a legal marriage.

May 29, 2016

Dear Diary,

Love how Tsukki didn’t even remember my birthday:,) Must be nice getting made fun of. Half the students in my class felt my second hand embarrassment from when he completely forgot about it. God, why am I even in love with this asshole? I’m gonna have to go to school tomorrow and deal with all my classmates making fun of me for being hopeless. Brb, currently digging a hole for myself:)

Frowning at the memory, you think back to when you were twelve. He was an asshole then, still is an asshole to this day. And yet not an ounce of your unconditional love and support for him has faded. Grabbing a tissue, you wipe the remaining tears from your eyes, ignoring the dried tear stains on your cheek. Your hand slams onto the bedside table, lazily feeling for your phone. Tilting it towards your face, you sigh at the empty lock screen, accepting defeat. Flicking through the rest of the book, you are welcomed by pages and pages of white. “So that’s when I gave up on this diary...” you mutter to yourself as you lift yourself up from your bed. Heading towards your desk, you absentmindedly grab yourself a pen, notebook in hand. Slamming the diary down, you open it up to the next entry page after your last one, gently placing the tip of your pen on the first line. You grab your hair out of frustration, the ink bleeding into the thin paper. “What to do, what to do...?” You mumble, starting to form sentences in your notebook.

July 17, 2020

Dear Diary,

It’s been a while hasn’t it? Holy shit, all my entries were about Tsukki weren’t they? Jesus, of course they were. At least I was able to get it off my chest this afternoon. Telling him that I’ve been in love with him for years, that was fucking terrifying. Telling him that although I know he’s an ass, an animatronic dick complete with ballsack, that won’t stop me from falling harder, it was gut wrenching, but also relieving to a certain degree. I’m still waiting for some form of response, although I’m not sure I’m gonna get one anytime soon. I can’t decide whether telling him was the dumbest or bravest decision I’ve made. Maybe it was both. Just wait until I look back on this entry like a decade later and still cry about it lmao. Tbh he’s a genuinely nice person at heart. I know that all too well. He may be an ass most the time, and he may think I’m annoying, but despite how hard he tries to push me away, I’ll never abandon him. Jesus Christ, I sound like a yandere here, but it’s not that. It’s that I care for him a lot. Maybe even a bit too much. It’s ridiculous how absolute and utter shit a crush can make you feel.

Throwing the pen down, you flop back onto your bed, huffing into the thick blankets. You stay silent, not sure of what to think of the situation. “I’ll just deal with it all tomorrow, I’m tired of this shit.”

On the other side of the incident, Tsukishima is currently going through a mental crisis.

The blond sits at his desk, eyes unwavering, but focusing on nothing. It feels as if he hasn’t blinked in what seemed to be hours. Just hours of staring at his wall that led to nothing. Your confession plays in his head nonstop, like a broken record that refused to run out of battery.

“The thing is I like you. I’m pretty sure I always have. And I know that you’re such an asshole and all that, you won’t treat me as well as people would expect, but it’s fine. I’m fine with all that. All the dumb, stupid, careless insults you’ll throw at me, the side eyes and sneers, telling me to shut up and go away, I’m fine with it. I know you’re a good person, and that’s all that matters to me.”

“Well shit what the fuck do you want me to say?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that.

Maybe he should have let you down slowly.

But as he stares at his wall, the photos of the two of you framed and balanced on his floating shelves, he starts to reconsider his feelings.

The way your expression faltered then as you hastily took your bag and rushed away without a single word, the way you avoided him in the halls, the way you stopped talking to him throughout the day, it drove him crazy. He couldn’t handle the realisation that he hurt you so incredibly badly, so now all he can do is stare at his empty, blank wall. Did he know why he felt that way? No. He didn’t and still doesn’t. He’s Tsukishima fucking Kei, the emotionless, provoking, unlikeable king, yet a mere girl is somehow able to mess with his mind so badly, that all he can do is wallow in regret and confusion? What is this weird feeling? His throat itches, his heart is beating like crazy, sweat starting to gather around his temples. He clamps his two hands together, slamming his forehead onto them and squeezing his eyes shut.

How could I have been so dense?

How was he unable to see that you were absolutely in love with him? Even with the bento boxes, birthday gifts, constant compliments, he still only ever thought you liked him as a friend. However he never did. He likes you more than that. Way more. Yes, he thought, and still thinks you can be annoying at times, especially when you nag at him about not eating enough or being rude, but it was undeniable that there was something else he felt. But his stupid ass shitty ego would never let him admit it. And now that you finally confessed, he freaked out and fucked up. Even then, he didn’t think it would affect him to this extent.

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you (Y/N).”

He says that over and over again, desperate to cloud out the disagreeing thoughts in his head that scream otherwise.

“It was a stupid middle school crush, I’m over you.”

The guilt didn’t go away.

In fact, now that he’s said all that, he feels even worse. Oh how much he wants to find you right this second, wrap you in his arms, tell you how incredibly sorry he is, but he can’t. He doesn’t deserve to do that. His heart is begging for him to just get out of the house and run to yours as fast as he could, but his body won’t move. He wants to cry. Scream. Shout. Throw something. Shatter something. But most of all, he wants to get another chance.

Picking up his phone, he hesitates, before typing in your contact, the cleared out, empty chatroom showing up on his screen. Going as fast as his fingers could, he typed out the one sentence he’s been dying to let out.

“It was a middle school crush, but I’m still into you. I always have been.”

Is it just me, or is this bad-

Idk man it seems like all my fics are pretty much the same and I hate it😌

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I’m back to writing lmao I’m bored in two week quarantine rn

Edit: cue me realising I was half asleep and missed something in the request don’t be surprised if I repost this💀💀💀💀

Btw the hq manga just ended time to cry

💕💕💕💕

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