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look-at-the-soul · 2 years

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The Photoshoot (Part 3)

Cillian Murphy x OC

Thank you for reading! I’d really love to know what you think :)

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The sunlight coming through the curtains woke her up. She really needed that rest so much after staying up late to finish editing Cillian’s photographs, she still couldn’t believe how well the photoshoot went and the phenomenal shoots she got. Stretching quietly in her bed, she turned on her cellphone, it immediately announced new messages.

Good morning! On my way for that breakfast date. Thanks for the blanket. Cill x

Last night, Cillian woke up not long after she covered him with the blanket, as she returned to keep working on the last photos, groggily he apologized for falling asleep, said goodnight and left. Looked like he really needed that nap.

Smiling, she hurried into the bathroom to get ready. Checking her mental notes for the things she would need for the short trip she threw her essential items in a small bag, a change of clothes for the next day, a few things her cousin asked her buy and book to read on her way to London. Throwing her hair up in a messy bun, she didn’t have time to deal with her forever rebel hair, applied some sunscreen on her face, then her five-minute makeup routine and she was ready to go. As she finished doing her bed, she heard a knock on the front door.

“Hel – wow you look beautiful.” He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. A lovely blush covered her, making her look adorable.

“Thank you.” She only added some brown eyeliner, making her eyes pop. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time last night…”

“Nah, it’s alright, you warned me and your couch was really pulling me in.” He was embarrassed for falling asleep, but she seemed fine. “Did you send the pictures to Vassilis?”

“Oh yes! After you left… but it was worth it, he loved them and they should be publishing today anytime.”

“That’s good. Will you save a copy for me?”

Yael nodded. “Vass saw the last pictures I got of you too, he is sure he can get them on a cover for a magazine… I didn’t send those to him, wasn’t planning on publishing…”

“Why not? Those are really good pictures.”

“Because those are not part of the session, not for the public one though, I took them because I wanted to capture your essence.”

Cillian shook his head. “You really should let him publish those, please don’t hesitate.”

“Are you sure?” I can practically look into your soul in those.”

“And that’s what makes it a memorable photograph.” A soft smile appeared on his lips. “I really enjoyed that photoshoot.” He admitted.

“Me too, you say so many things with your eyes, you are very easy.” As he raised his eyebrows she spoke again. “In a good way of course.”

“I’m glad I’m easy, that’s quite a compliment.” He smirked while she laughed.

“No, Cill I mean that the camera seems to love you, providing exactly what a photographer needs.”

“I’m offended because you said I’m easy, go on.” He joked and little wrinkles appeared in the corner of his eyes.

“You are never going to let that slip away, aren’t you?”

“No.” He tried to keep a straight face but it was impossible to not smile at her. “But I might forgive you.”

Leaning back, she bit her lower lip. “You might? How?”

Cillian got up from the breakfast bar and motioned for Yael to get close. She did, but with his finger he was beckoning her to get closer.

Squinting she leaned forward, inches away from his face.

“Closer.” He demanded in a low voice.

Their noses were touching now. “Like this?” She brushed his lips with hers. Not kissing him yet. “You are still so far away.”

“You better hurry up for breakfast.” She left him there hanging so close to kiss him.

Biting his lips, he felt like burning up. “I thought I was your breakfast.”

“Nice try Murphy, but the way to my heart is through a good cup of coffee.” She took the small bag and waited for him at the door.

“Who’s the easy one now?”

“If I let you kiss me now, we both know I’m not going to make it on time.”

She was dying to kiss him, their attraction was undeniable and clearly, she didn’t want to fight it, but she also loved the teasing, the complicity, slightly touches here and there.

James, his driver would show up later to take him to the location, but for now, he simply enjoyed being behind the wheel, something he hadn’t being able to do a lot since he started filming the new season three months ago. Cillian followed her instructions to the café she suggested. He wasn’t thrilled to go out, because honestly, he didn’t want to be recognized, disliked so much being approached by strangers out of nowhere asking for a picture.

“Are you okay?” Yael asked once he stopped the car, noticing something different.

“Yes… jus- I have an issue going out, people tend to and I’m not saying this trying to be pretentious or anything, but people recognize the haircut and just like yesterday this woman said ‘by order of the peaky blinders’…” he mimicked the voice. “It’s ridiculous, but I can’t help it.”

“Do you want me to get the coffees to go?”

Cillian shook his head. “No… I can’t stop my life because of this, right?” Yael nodded her head, facing him on her seat.

“Listen, this place is small, see? The little corner café.” She pointed to the old-fashioned brick building, there was a small sign, he could see two small tables outside a few inside, behind it the counter. “It’s early and since it’s kind of hidden, it blends… so I don’t think there will be a lot of people, but I bought my cousin a baseball cap, she loves the Red Sox, from Boston you can use it if you want.”

The fact that she understood his dilemma and tried to offer a solution, only made him want her more.

“Yeah let’s go.” he allowed the smile on his lips to grow bigger. How was it possible that her words made him trust her that much? There was that feeling from the photoshoot again, that he could be himself.

This was the first time in months we would be going out to eat something.

“I thought you would lose interest over my busy schedule.”

Cillian smiled looking up from his menu. “I’m not relying on the chances of a coincidence in years from now, we just need to ‘adapt’ to whatever free time we both have, right?”

“How do you do that?”

Tilting his head, Cillian asked Yael what she meant.

“You seem so fresh and even have poet mood on, I need a coffee to barely manage past good morning.”

“I will make sure I bring you coffee in the morning then, and I’m flattered you are making the effort for me.”

Taking a sip of her black coffee, she felt it go down her body, the same way Cillian was getting underneath of her skin.

“It’s early and you are ready to go?” She flirted.

“Customer service is 24/7 just for you, you just started the free trial.” He flirted back.

Her answer was interrupted by the waitress taking their orders. Once she left, he took his sunglasses off, leaving just the baseball cap, it was black and the B logo also in black was embroidered at the front. He looked good with it.

“Let me tell you something I have to give you the credit you deserve for both, the photoshoot and this, you are making me enjoy things I usually run away from.” He smiled. “I have never felt so comfortable before, thank you for making this feel right.”

“This is just a small sneak peek of the benefits of your free trial.” Yael winked at him, earning a chuckle.

She asked him about what he would be filming that day, and Cillian’s eyes sparkled even before he started speaking.

“I have this scene with Sam Neill, Simone Kirby and Rory Keenan.” Leaning forward, he spoke in a low voice even though there was no one around them. “Sam is an inspector who’s behind my character, the man is absolutely a gem to work with, very funny but the moment they say action…” Cillian snapped his fingers. “He is a professional.”

“It sounds fun, you know? To be able to play someone else.”

“It is… and Simone and Rory they are pro-treaty while Sam is a crown agent.”

“And they are making a deal with a gangster?” She only knew who Sam Neill was, but he sounded too content sharing small details with her.

“They need Tommy… I’m sorry I don’t want to get you bored. ”

Yael shook her head. “No at all, actually I am impressed.”

“What time do you need to be at the station?”

“At ten am, I will be in London by midday.”

“You will be sleeping there right? I hope you are not planning to come back to Manchester around midnight.” He knew she would be free around noon.

Smiling at the sudden worry he was showing, Yael shook her head. “I’m staying with my cousin, will come back in the morning.”

“Would you… just text whenever you arrive or leave the workshop?”

She was used to move around alone, day and night, but it was nice from him to ask that, to have someone to let them know you made it safe to your destination.

“Will do, thank you. There’s nothing to worry about, lots of photographers are attending.”

Playing with his cup a little, he asked playfully. “Are you usually this busy? I probably need to take a turn to take you out on a proper date.”

“Actually no, but it kind of looks like that, I know… what’s wrong with breakfast dates?”

“Nothing, but I don’t get to spend the rest of the day with you, that’s what is wrong.”

Yael smiled while he was taking a sip of his coffee. “Okay, let’s do this, how about you join me tomorrow for the photoshoot with the puppies, and right after that I’m free for the rest of the day?” She seemed so excited about that shoot.

“What about Sunday? You have anything scheduled?”

“Are you sure that it isn’t too much?”

Cillian shook his head. “What are you talking about? It’s barely enough.” She laughed at that. “Saturday photoshoot, plus the rest of the day and Sunday. Where do I sign?”

He told her after leaving her, he would go back to his apartment and then to the Black Country Museum, where they would be filming the first scenes for the day, he would ask the production to move his schedule to Saturday, in order to have Sunday free. He still had two more weeks of filming, and then his work would be done for the season.

Arriving at the station, Cillian made sure to wait with Yael, he was telling her about the book he was currently reading, One hundred years in Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez and how it had taken him ages to finish. It was a heavy book and he had to put down from time to time, but was determined to finish the reading. As the screen showed the next departure, Yael thanked him for waiting with her, both of them walking towards the platform, since it wasn’t rush hour, the place was almost empty.

“Any chance I can get, I’m up for it.” He smiled. “Have a safe trip.”

They both leaned forwards to say goodbye with a hug, it was a little bit awkward, should they keep the hug long? Short? Kiss on the cheek?

“I’m curious… What’s your favorite photoshoot?” He asked.

Smiling she replied: “My answer has been the same since I started taking pictures… The next one.” She leaned against the wall behind her to look at him. “Until now, this is the first time I’m going to say, the last one is my favorite.”

He couldn’t control the smile that spread on his lips.

Pulling away, Yael squeezed his hand lightly as she started to walk in the opposite direction of him. But Cillian made up his mind and didn’t let go of her hand, instead pulled her back, her body crashing into his while his free hand came to the side of her head, between her jaw and the base of her hair to hold her face in place, his lips finding hers in a tender motion, both of them getting lost in it, finding their own place at the same time.

He wanted to see her reaction, so he pulled away after one brief kiss, enough to taste her, but also to leave her wanting more.

But God, he wanted more. He needed more.

Cillian saw her smile and that was all the invitation he needed to kiss her again. There was no point on delaying something that felt so natural, so right.

A slightly tingle that felt more like a fire starting as they both gave up their teasing game and finally their lips met, moving against each other, savoring their taste, introducing and welcoming the new experience, exploring the uncharted territory. Their hands caressing each other’s’ face. Cillian owning the breath she was holding.

The palm of his hand pressed behind her back holding her as closest as he could get her. Pulling away breathless, they stayed right there staring at each other’s eyes, sharing a glace between their eyes and their lips, wearing a shy smile that hold so many feelings. After the countless times they both imagined this moment, and it couldn’t even compare to the real one, there was nowhere else they’d rather be.

And he also couldn’t find anything to say, but a kiss. Kissing her was the answer, no matter the question.

“Are you coming Miss?” a man behind her called, breaking the moment.

Finally, she walked to the guard and showed her ticket to board, once there, she gave Cillian one final look and a smile before disappearing inside.

#That’s what Cill said #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy x oc #tommy shelby imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfiction

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chiliiscereal · 3 years

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Prompt idea: the turtles with a friend or s/o that sleep walks.

Turtles with and S/o that sleepwalks

———-

So I based this off how my cousin sleep walks hope you don’t mind :)

Raph:

-home boy freaked out the first time he saw you sleepwalk

-he was up at night getting some cake but when he saw you walking by HO HO BOY did he jump out of his skin

-no one else was awake and you practically materialized out of the shadows!

-he eventually calmed down enough to realize that you weren’t awake

-I mean, it wasn’t exactly obvious

-you sort of walked around aimlessly a while mumbling

-that wasn’t really something sleeping people did..

-“babe, what’re you doin’ up? It’s 1 in the morning!”

-“I gotta put the salami CD’s in the chicken coop”

-“umm.. what?”

-once it finally clicked he didn’t exactly know what he should do

-was it a myth that you weren’t supposed to wake up a sleepwalking person?

-was there some sort of side affect?

-instead of intervening he just sort of sat at the table and watched

-he didn’t want to accidentally do something wrong but he also didn’t want you to get hurt

-he found himself getting up a couple of times when he thought you were gonna run into a table, moving it out of the way at lightning speed

-Other than that you were fine

-you simply walked back into your room and shut the light off

-he asked about it the next morning and you told him you sleep walk if you’re really tired

-and, sadly, being in highschool meant that you were tired all the time

-apparently you’d done it since you were little and you were used to it by now

-Raph didnt exactly know what he should do about it

-you told him you were fine and that he should leave you be, but he didn’t want anything to happen to you

-he decided the best course of action was to help behind the scenes

-that meant making sure you didn’t stay up late

-if you slept walked when you were really tired then he’d stop you from that state of feeling

-he had an alarm set for when he’d start hinting that it was bedtime

-he’s unplug the WiFi if you didn’t get the message (subtly of course) and then he’d turn around and tell you that the WiFi always got spotty when it was late

-he’d even stay up a little later to see if you were going to sleep walk

-if not then he’d head straight to bed

-but sometimes you still did it

-he’d found the best option was to just pick you up and place you back in your room

-“but the salami CD’s...”

-“they’ll still be there in the morning.”

-he’d pull you close to him and let you snuggle in close, the two of you sitting on your

-he always left before you woke up though

-yet you knew he had been there

-it was hard not to know when you woke up with a huge dip in the other side of your bed

-the two of you had a system and it worked

Donnie:

-Donnies already up and working by the time you start walking around

-the thing is, he didn’t realize you weren’t awake for probably an hour

-you were just walking from room to room and occasionally picking things up

-he was used to you being up late in his defense

-but when you ignored him or started mumbling... yeah that ripped him off

-“babe can you pass me the screwdriver?”

-“no, the radishes aren’t condensed.”

-“...I’m sorry?”

“Radishes.”

“Are you even awake?”

“I gotta go condense the radishes before Mikey finds out.”

-this boy was educated on the sleepwalking in a matter of seconds via research

-he knew you needed the rest so he never woke you up

-instead, he would find wherever you were walking around and have you stay in his room while he worked

-you never broke anything and it was nice to not be alone in a way

-besides your sleepwalking never lasted for long

-often it ended with you wandering over to him and slumping against his shoulder

-that meant he got to hold you while the night was quiet and peaceful

-the next morning you always woke back up in your own bed

-Donnie denied that he ever had anything to do with your sleepwalking

-but all you had to do was test it out to find the truth

-you walked into his room without a word one night and he didn’t even seem surprised

-“you good babe?”

-you chose not to say anything, you just kept walking

-“how are those condensed radishes doing?”

-you didn’t know what that meant but you assumed it was something you said in your sleep

-“you’re awfully quiet tonight. Usually you don’t stop talking.”

-you sit down beside him and place your head on his shoulder

-boy doesn’t even hesitate in pulling you closer and going back to work

-you don’t bother telling him that you know

-it’s nice to have someone looking out for you

Leo:

-oh he found out the first time you slept walked

-even brought it up casually the next morning

-he has insomnia so anything that happens after hours he’s already aware of it

-for the first few nights it was him joking about the cause being something supernatural

-he stopped when he thought you were getting offended though

-he diiiiid however say you were the sleep to his insomnia

-he can’t sleep at night and nothing can wake you up!

-you two balance each other out!

-and believe me, he has TRIED to wake you up to no avail

-doesn’t matter if it’s a loud noise or shaking your shoulder, nothing will wake you up

-unfortunately, since he’s always awake, he gets to see everything you do while wandering around

-AND he gets to see it while recording

-he’s got videos and videos of the random nonsense that comes out of your mouth

-and if he ever finds you cleaning in your sleep heaven knows he’s gonna find a way for you to take care of some of his chores to

-“come on, babe! You were already folding clothes! What’s a few extra?”

-he does find himself having to emergency portal you at times

-like the time you nearly walked off the skate ramp

-he portalled you into his arms as quick as he could

-“who decides to put a skate ramp right where people can fall down it?” He’s mumbling as he carries you back to his room

-having you there helps his insomnia very much

-in a way you’re both helping each other

Mikey:

-took the longest time to realize you sleepwalk

-if took him a whole two months

-usually you stayed in your own room

-he only realized when you walked into his room started picking up his art supplies while he was painting

-usually when he was painting you would plop down beside him and ask him questions (all during the day)

-but now you were picking up brushes and mumbling about how you needed to save the tomato’s before the bear ate them all

-poor baby ran to Donnie, thinking you were sick or delusional

-his older brother casually explained that it’s probably just sleep walking and he calmed down

-he was a little freaked out but grew used to it after a couple more night of it

-doesn’t really understand why you sometimes do normal things in your sleep like cleaning or fixing a sandwich

-still finds himself helping you out though

-he’ll be right next to you, folding clothes or passing you the mayo

-recently he found out he can ask you questions and get pretty funny answers

-“do you prefer hot dogs, hamburgers, or pizza?”

-“soggy bread.”

-“That doesn’t sound very appetizing.”

-always keeps you updated the next morning

-it embarrassed you to no end

-he didn’t need to hear all that stuff!

-one night he asked a less casual question

-“so how do you feel about Mikey?”

-“I would eat a thousand soggy breads for Mikey if he asked.”

-“r-really?”

-“of course. I love him!”

-that was the first time you openly said you loved him

-honestly his heart stopped for a few seconds

-he brought it up that next morning and no, you wouldn’t eat a thousand soggy breads if he asked

-but yes, you loved him to pieces

#rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt leo #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt headcannons #save rottmnt #rottmnt oneshots #rottmnt imagine

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rowanaelinn · 3 years

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Fire on Fire - Chapter Six

this is finally going somewhere! i had to cut this chapter in two otherwise it would have been six thousand words so… sorry for the cut😬

Warning for sucidal thoughts in this chapter.

chapter five // chapter seven

“She did not!” Aelin laughed loudly, still in her nightclothes. “Why do we always miss that?”

“Miss what?” Sam asked as he entered the room, two bowls of cereals in his hands. He gave one to Lysandra and brought two spoons so Aelin could eat in his bowl. Lysandra and Aelin just woke up, it was four in the afternoon and Aelin didn’t eat anything since last night, so she was starving.

Aelin, Lysandra, Nehemia, and Sam might have partied a little too hard last night. So this morning, Aelin and Lysandra decided to stay home. Sam didn’t look happy about Aelin missing class but he didn’t say anything, knowing Aelin’s mind was made. He came back from school an hour ago and woke them up.“Gods, I love these cereals,” she moaned at the taste. Aelin loved food, and it showed on her body. The only good thing about her injury is that now she didn’t have to pay attention to everything she ate to fit in stupid costumes. She might miss dancing but she loved food more.

“I finished the last box, by the way.”

Aelin nodded, making a mental note she’ll have to ask Quinn to go grocery shopping as soon as she could.

“Leave me some, Lys,” Nehemia said as she threw herself on Aelin’s bed. She was glad to have a gigantic bed when the four of them were home, which is almost all the time lately. Nehemia threw her hair behind her shoulder, silently asking her friends to pay attention to them.

“That color suits you, Mia,” Aelin smiled and it was genuine. Nehemia had fresh new braids, they started black but ended in a deep ocean blue. The girl never wanted boring colors in her hair and almost everything suited her. Lysandra and Sam agreed with her, making Nehemia smile arrogantly. But Aelin knew that Nehemia was hiding a real smile behind that.

“Might dye my hair blue to match you,” Aelin said and Nehemia looked thrilled.

“Don’t you dare!” Sam said, turning to Aelin and almost spilling the cereals and milk on her bed. “Your hair is so pretty. Buy a wig but don’t you dare dye it.”

“Excuse me?”

He pouted, “Please?” Even with this ridiculous face, he stayed beautiful. She loved the twinkle of mischief, the hint of exasperation at her, and the kindness that made her feel good, the kindness that made her want to be the best person she could be.

“Okay,” She sighed and he had a victorious smile drawn on his face. “Let’s go for the wig.”

He smiled and kissed her, pout-ring all his love for her in it. She could spend years kissing him. “You two are gross,” Lysandra complained, Sam and Aelin pulled apart and Aelin sent her best friend a vulgar gesture.

“Anyway, Lys, what did we miss?” Sam asked again, this boy was the most curious of the four. He liked to hear gossip about everyone.

“Ansel was high at Nox’s party two days ago.” Aelin was sad they missed a party just to be at a Gala, but her parents were home for once and demanded that she was with them.

“You’re joking?” Nehemia asked and laughed as she took Lysandra’s spoon to eat some cereals. The brunette threw the dark-skinned girl a look that promised violence.

“You’ll never see me taking drugs, that’s for sure,” Aelin sighed and rested her head on Sam’s shoulder. “God, I already regret drinking twice in a week.”

“Good,” Sam said and she rolled her eyes.

The four friends spent hours talking and laughing together. They practically all lived at her home, anyway. Sam and Lysandra’s families were fucked up enough, so they spent their time here. Nehemia’s parents worked too much to notice that she didn’t come home most nights. Aelin’s parents were never here either, so she welcomed the company.

When it started getting dark outside, Aelin’s phone rang. She had no idea who called her but it could be one of her parents, calling her from wherever they were now or even Aedion who had a habit to lose his phone.

“Hello?”

“Aelin?” A deep voice asked and Aelin thought she recognized it in the back of her brain but she couldn’t put a name on who it belonged to.

“I’m not trying to be rude but, who are you?”

The man laughed and the sound gave her chills. “It’s Arobynn Hamel. Your mother was supposed to give you my phone number but I guess she forgot.”

Her body froze. Arobynnn Hamel. Of course, she knew that voice, she had watched enough interviews of him to become familiar with it, she even met him two days ago. She sat straighter in her bed, attracting the worried gaze of her three friends. With a more serious face than they had ever seen, Aelin motioned for them to remain silent.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry, Mister Hamel. She didn’t give me your number, I’m very sorry.” She was so embarrassed, Mala knew how much Aelin would be mad at her mom for it. Her friends looked surprised at who called her.

“Calm down, Aelin. It’s okay.” He comforted her as he laughed softly. “And call me Arobynn.”

“Alright.” She said and waited for him to explain why he was calling her, not that she wasn’t happy about it because she was. She just knew she would embarrass herself if she opened her mouth and started talking.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” He asked and Aelin furrowed her brows. That was weird but exciting at the same time.

“No, I am free. Why?”

“We didn’t have a lot of time to talk Saturday and I think it’s a shame. I am still in Orynth for two days and would like to talk with you. Your mother told me you wanted to be an author or work in the publishing industry, is it true?”

“Yes,” it was the fastest answer of her life. Yes, she had always dreamed of working around books.

“From what I’ve heard, Aelin Galathynius, you are special. I’d like to see that by myself. Allow me to take you out for dinner tomorrow and we can talk about your future.”

If Arobynn Hamel helped her… She could become a successful author. She could picture it, a small house, Sam at her side, a study full of books she wrote, a life away from the spotlight, a happy life. It’s exactly what she wanted. Special, he thought she was special.

“Dress code?”

He laughed again and Aelin couldn’t help but smile. “Something like the dress you had on Saturday should be good. I’ll pick you up at seven, is it good for you?”

“Perfect.”

They hung up and she looked at her friend, still surprised, and smile. She was thoughtfully happy.

“Aelin?” Aedion asked, tearing her from her daydream. “You there?”

“Sorry. What is it?” She was tired and hungover, she didn’t get lots of sleep last night and she was feeling the effects. Dorian had left early this morning, long before anyone woke up. It was better than having to face Aedion’s judgmental looks.

“I asked if your scholarship got renewed for next year, Lysandra got the answer in the mail yesterday so you’re supposed to have yours too, right?” She looked up from her bowl of cereals, confused for a second. When she met Rowan Whitethorn’s face, with the same confused expression as her, she remembered.

Lysandra, Aedion, and everyone else believed she got a scholarship, frankly, she had no idea how they believed her. But they never had a reason to distrust her, that’s probably the reason.

Most of her relation with Arobynn was secret and the money he spent on her was part of the lie.

“Yeah, everything is taken care of.” She smiled, it was the truth in a way. She dared to look at Rowan and she didn’t why, didn’t know how, but she knew he didn’t believe her. She could see it in his frown and eyes.

“Good,” her cousin smiled as he drank his coffee.

She smiled back, he was worried for her, she knew it. It’s exactly why she didn’t tell him anything, he didn’t need the stress. “I’ve got everything under control.”

---------

“What are you still doing here?” Arobynn asked, startling Aelin. She had been too busy on her computer to hear him coming. “It’s past nine, we finished hours ago.”

They both had worked for hours today and she was tired. “What are you still doing here?” She asked.

“I asked first, darling.” He sat in his chair in front of her. She was still in her seat, the chair almost belonged to her for all the time she spent on it. She wanted to be annoyed at him but today had been different. He had been different. He wasn’t the Arobynn she had known years ago but he was close, closer than he usually was lately. Aelin was pretty sure he hadn’t had a drink all day, which could explain his mood. That was a good thing.

“I’m writing and waiting for my cousin to check his damn phone so he can pick me up.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Broken,” she grilled through her teeth. The damn truck had decided not to work this morning, causing Aelin to have a nervous breakdown. “A friend of mine had a look at it and told me it would cost me more to repair it than to buy a new one, so here I am, depending on my cousin.” She hated it, hated to depend on someone. But it seemed to happen a lot lately, so she might have to get used to it. “What are you doing here?” She repeated.

“My meeting lasted two hours,” he said, his voice hard.

“Ah, sucks when you have to actually do your job, right?” She remarked and didn’t know if it was a reproach for the way he over-worked her or a teasing. Maybe both, she didn’t want to wonder about it too much.

“Someone’s feisty today,” he joked and she fought a small smile. “Ready for Monday?”

“I already told you no, Arobynn.”

“Why not? You finish the school year in four days.”

“I have a job, Arobynn. I can’t just-”

“Everything’s taken care of.” He cut her off with a smile. It was the kind of smile that told her he had done something and was feeling rather proud of it.

“What.”

“Did you know Rofle was my friend? After a drink or two, he agreed to let you come back in September, right after your internship at Hamel Publishing.”

“And you did that after I told you no?” Her tone was rising. “And are you friends with everyone here?”

He rose from his seat to stand right before her. She had to raise her head to look him in the eye. One of his calloused hands rested on her cheek, caressing her cheekbone. "You know how powerful I am." She did, Arobynn wasn’t just a successful author or the CEO of a publishing company, those were just hobbies for him. He had grown up in a rich family, had been raised to be like every rich people. He had learned how fake smiles and words were weapons, how to manipulate people. He had a way to manipulate everyone he called his friends, whether it was a picture, a video, or a letter. He had something on everyone. “I once promised you I would make you shine, Aelin. I won’t let a shitty job ruin that promise.” For years he had told her she was special, he had told her she could reach the stars should she just let him help her. And for years she had believed him, so she decided to do it again. She only nodded and it seemed to be enough for him.“I’m calling a cab for you.”

“No.”

“No?” His voice was surprised. “Is it because of the money?”

“For fuck sake Arobynn I can afford a cab ride,” that was a total lie, but he didn’t need to know that. “I just… can’t.”

Understanding and pity flashed on Arobynn’s face and she had to keep herself from yelling at him for it. “You still can’t?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” She said voice hard that didn’t let room for questions.

“Pack your things, I’ll drive you.” This was what Arobynn from four years ago would have said, what the Arobynn she had come to know would have said. In a flicker of hope, she said yes. Hope that she could erase what happened between them, that she would forget like Arobynn repeatedly asked her to, and just start again because she didn’t know how to survive another person leaving her.

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

It was the middle of the night when Rowan heard her cries.

At first, he had ignored them, trying to give her privacy. It was unusual of her to let someone hear her, so Rowan thought it might be very bad. But after five minutes of cries, he couldn’t stay in his bed anymore.

When he walked into her room, his heart broke a little. She was in bed, sleeping, trashing against the sheets, crying, and trying to talk. Even with only the light from the bathroom, he could see the pain written all over her face.

He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t just walk back to his room and ignore her. So, he shook her shoulder, trying to wake her up but it didn’t work. She kept jerking in her bed as if she was fighting with the pillows and her blanket.

“Aelin,” he said, using both his hands to shake her. “Aelin,” he repeated louder. Her eyes jerked open, she turned her head several times, trying to figure out where she was. Her whole body shook and a second later she leaned over the bed and vomited her guts out. Rowan held her hair back, avoiding touching her directly so as not to overwhelm her.

When she lay back down in bed, she was still crying, her limbs shaking as if she were hypothermic even though Rowan could see the sweat glistening on her skin.

Rowan had only seen one person look so wrecked in his entire life, himself. He saw it every time he woke up and looked into the mirror. It was worse ten years ago because he had no idea how to hide it, in a decade he learned how to conceal everything. How to recognize which night was most likely to give him a nightmare, learned how to stay quiet while he felt like dying inside.

“You should take a shower,” Rowan said, voice softer than he has ever used with her. He had been wrong, so wrong.

“I don’t think I have the strength.”

“To shower?” He asked but there was no judgment, he only wanted to make sure.

“To live.” Her small voice broke and his heart did too. When she looked up at him, eyes filled with tears, Rowan didn’t see anything but desperation and loathing. He knew it wasn’t directed at him but at herself.

“Come here,” he said as he slid his arms under her body. “We’re gonna clean you up, okay?” He lifted her up from her bed, avoiding the content of her stomach on the floor as her weak arms curled around his neck and he guided her to the bathroom.

————

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @surielandiareendgame // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy

#rowaelin fanfiction #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #fire on fire

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urimaginespimp · 3 years

Text

Caught

Isiah x Shelby sister

requested

--------

It all started when John raised his suspicions to your family.

“I’m telling you, she might be seeing a bastard.” He insisted, after telling them about an incident earlier.

“John you’re concluding this from a mere rejection of our sister to spend time with ya in the pub?” Tommy raised a brow at how absurd he was sounding. Among all your brothers, you were closest to John.

“I know it this doesn’t sound well on my part but my gut is telling me she’s hiding something.” John argued.

“Yeah, the same gut you often drown at the pub.” Polly chimed in the conversation. “And what if the girl is dating? She’s of age.”

Just then, Finn walked in the shop alone.

“Where’s Isiah?” Arthur asked the youngest Shelby.

“Said he wanted go to the pictures alone.” Finn shrugged while John’s attention was peaked again.

“That’s where Y/N said she’d go to!” He exclaimed to them.

“Well if she’s ever with a boy, Isiah would gladly report it to us. Does that ease your nerves, brother?” Tommy asked him. John kept quiet in his seat.

Then there was the moment Michael joined in the suspicion.

You were overdressed for a small meeting at Tommy’s office but you easily excused it by saying you were to meet with some friends afterwards. But he couldn’t help notice that every now and then you were stealing glances somewhere – by his good friend Isiah’s direction. Though he also happened to be standing under a wall clock.

He could’ve easily shrugged this off, if it weren’t for Isiah meeting your glances as well. But Isiah had told him a week ago he’s been seeing someone exclusively, and he wasn’t dumb enough to actually make a move on his own boss’ youngest sister.

Then there was Finn.

He and Isiah were tasked the night before to head somewhere out of town, and he was patiently waiting for his friend to finally show up at the office when you came in, all disheveled.

“Are you alright, sister?” He asked worriedly.

“Yeah, I am, Finny. Just strong wind outside. Had to run because I’m running late.” You cleared your throat, trying to fix your hair with your hands.

Not long after that, Isiah finally showed up as well, all flushed. “Sorry I’m late, mate. Woke up late.” He clapped at Finn’s shoulder.

“Mate, your fly’s still open.” He told him, and turned your way when he heard you choke at the back.

“You okay there, Y/N?”

“Didn’t realize this tea was still really hot.” You excused yourself and went into your shared office with Michael.

Tommy and Arthur were the last straw.

He was planning to hold another gala and was giving assignments for the arrangement. You were usually paired with John on food and drink tasting – your favorite task together, when you spoke up.

“Tom can you give me a different task this year?” You asked, making everybody turn your way. John in particular looked offended.

“What?” Tommy asked.

“I was thinking something different like handing out invitations.” You bit your lip, nervous about their reactions.

“That would be with Isiah, Y/N.” Arthur clarified. And your face gave the impression that you didn’t know.

“I’m fine with that.” Isiah answered a tad bit too eagerly.

“Have I done something to offend you, sister?” John asked in confusion. You both always had a great time with that task, so it was of great wonder why you wanted to be assigned in a different one this year.

“No, John. I- uh… they just give us the same set of food to taste anyway.” You reasoned, giving him a smile. “Plus, I wanted a good excuse to ride around other places.”

Tommy despite the suspicion, said okay and handed you the list of names and addresses to visit.

That night, the men were in the backroom of the garrison enjoying some drinks when a drunk John finally spoke up again.

“I think they’re fucking.” He stood up and caught everyone’s attention.

“Who, John?” Arthur inquired.

“Y/N and Isiah.” He answered with a serious face.

“Go home, John. You clearly can’t handle your drinks anymore.” Arthur laughed at him, but slowly stopped when he realized that he was the only one not taking it seriously.

“Well, you gentlemen clearly have something to say on the matter.” Tommy spoke, taking a cigar from his pocket. “Come on, let’s hear ‘em.”

“I saw them stealing glances every time they’re in the same room.” Michael started.

“I wasn’t aware glances now mean they’re doing it.” Arthur argued, clearly in denial. He couldn’t grasp the thought of his youngest sister dating.

“What about that whole bull about the gala assignment.” John reminded, bitterness lacing is voice.

“Good god, John. The girl just wanted to do something different.” Arthur once again defended.

“Where’s Isiah tonight then?” The third-born Shelby answered.

“Got them excuses, eh Arthur? You don’t wanna hear what I have to share.” Finn finally spoke up. Everybody’s attention turned to him.

What Finn shared finally got Arthur to go quiet. It was safe to say that the tension in the room was enough to make any ordinary run out of the room.

“We can’t just talk to her about it. No matter how bad of a liar she is, she’s as stubborn as Tom.” Michael explained.

“Then we catch them.” Thomas stated.

--------

You were out for a stroll with Isiah out of town. It was the only way you could hold hands without having to look over your shoulder every now and then. But even then, you couldn’t be totally carefree together.

“Isiah we’re in public.” You warned your boyfriend when he leaned in to try and steal a kiss.

“Yeah Isiah, listen to our sister.” A voice spoke from behind you.

You both froze on spot. Letting go of your boyfriend’s hand immediately, you turned around awkwardly, and was faced with all of your brothers and cousin looking at you both with a deathly glare.

“He-hey brothers…” you chuckled nervously. “Mickey.” You smiled at your cousin.

“Isiah.” Arthur called him. “We never told you about boundaries when it came to our sister. I presumed you were a smart man.” He looked like he was about to pounce on your boyfriend.

“Arthur, stop.” You asked your brother.

“Stay out of this Y/N. He should’ve known better than to mess around with our own.” John ordered you.

“We’re not just messing around, John.” Isiah finally spoke, looking at them with determination in his eyes.

“And we’re supposed to believe that when you just told me a month ago that you were seeing someone?” Michael chimes.

“Yeah. It was me!” You were getting frustrated at the fact that they were more channeling their anger at your boyfriend and leaving you out.

All of them fell silent at your outburst. “We always liked each other okay? And we never thought anything of it until you asked him to babysit me at your last party.” You explained, both you and Isiah exchanging a small smile.

“Why didn’t you tell us? Or even just your favorite brother?” John was now more hurt than angry.

“Yeah, or your favorite cousin?” Michael added. Everybody was now a little bit less tense.

“You’re my only cousin, Mickey.” You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.

“You’re both really serious about this?” Thomas asked a small grin on his face.

“Yeah I am.” Isiah answered in a heartbeat.

“Well I’d rather her be with someone we already know, then.” Arthur finally concedes.

“I just have one request.” Finn finally said something. Everyone turned to him.

“Next time, at least zip up your fly.”

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heyyyharry · 3 years

Text

Deep End - Chapter 12: Dirty Dreams

…in which Harry and Ezi kiss again…and again…and again… (THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT)

Word count: 4.6k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

Harry didn’t understand dreams. How did dreams even work? Because sometimes he would see someone he hadn’t seen in years in his dreams, even though he had completely forgotten about the person’s existence up to that point. Then there were these super violent and bloody dreams that woke him in the middle of the night in cold sweats. Then, there were some other more inappropriate dreams that made him so disappointed when the alarm rang.

Listen, Harry wasn’t a pervert. He didn’t think about sex 24/7; well, not usually. But lately, he’d been having dirty dreams more often than he would enjoy. He would wake up with his dick rock hard and end up late for work because he had to stroke one out in the shower. And he blamed it on…

“Ezi! Where are your pants? And why are you wearing my shirt?”

Ezi stopped in the kitchen doorway with a bowl of ice cream in one hand, the other holding a spoon in her mouth. “This is my new ‘at home’ look,” she said, while leaning against the door in nothing but his button-up shirt that fell just past her bum. As if the sight wasn’t torturing enough, she had to be licking ice cream from the fucking spoon. It was eight in the fucking morning! And Harry would not go back to the bathroom to wank again.

“But where are your shirts? Why don’t you wear them?” he asked and slipped past her into the kitchen. He would make himself a cup of coffee so he wouldn’t have to watch her being effortlessly sexy in the kitchen doorway.

“They said on the internet that you should borrow your boyfriend’s shirt, and you’re my fake boyfriend.”

“Fair enough,” Harry chuckled.

She gave him a shy smile and left without saying another word. That was the longest conversation they’d had since that night she went out on a date with Dawson. Ezi was always a little bit weird. Okay, well, very weird. But her weirdness had been different lately, in a bad way. She was still doing weird things, but keeping a distance from him.

Harry knew he couldn’t really complain, since he’d specifically told her to her face that he preferred it when it was just him and the cat. Having his own space had been nice for a day or two, then he’d started missing how annoying she’d been. And of course, he blamed this all on Dawson.

Harry had been second to Dawson his whole life. Ever since he’d been a kid and found out that he’d had a cousin, Dawson had been nothing but a burden for Harry. Harry was the only child, but to his parents, Dawson had been their favourite son. His father used to love sports, but Harry had never been a fan of those. Dawson, on the other hand, had been the captain of the school’s football team and was excellent at marathons as well. So if Harry’s father was still alive, Dawson would be the one making him proud by taking over the family business Harry didn’t want.

Now, just as Harry had finally gained his own spotlight as a singer, becoming great at something Dawson wasn’t good at, Dawson swept in and stole Ezi.

Harry had spent a lot of time wondering why it had mattered so much to him that Ezi had gone on one date with his cousin. He didn’t even like her like that, and the house was always peaceful without her, which he enjoyed very much. But why did the idea of her becoming something with Dawson bother him so much? He hadn’t been sleeping well for the last couple of days. Not to mention that Ezi had started keeping distance from him. Well, he’d done it first because of the kiss, but it was weird when she did it because she had always been so fucking clingy. And he’d hated that. Until now!

Ding dong!

“What do you want?” Harry asked in the least annoyed tone he could pull off, while fighting the urge to slam the door in Dawson’s good-looking face.

“Is Ezi home?” Dawson asked.

“Ezi? You mean Ezili? Because I’m the only one who calls her Ezi.”

“Y-Yeah, Ezili,” Dawson said with an awkward smile. This guy was a tool. What did Ezi see in him?

“No, she’s at work,” Harry said, and quickly added, “but don’t think about going there. They’re having a book club meeting; she’d be mad if you showed up and distracted her.”

That was a lie. Harry didn’t even know if people actually hosted book club meetings at random book shops, but did it matter? If he was going to be petty, he must go all the way.

“What do you wanna meet her for?” he asked before Dawson could leave. He didn’t want to have a long conversation with Dawson about Ezi, but it was the only way to learn more about their date. “Did you do something that you wanna apologise for?”

“No. Of course not,” Dawson chuckled and adjusted his glasses. “She bought some books and forgot them in my car.”

“I could give them to her when she gets back from work,” Harry said.

Dawson looked hesitant. “Well, she told me not to give them to you.”

“Oh.” Harry kept a straight face, but he was very offended that she’d made that request. Did she really hate him so much for what he’d said that night?

“So,” he ventured, averting his eyes. “Guess the date went well?”

“I suppose,” Dawson said.

Harry had hoped for a different response. This one didn’t really hurt him but it didn’t make him happy, either. He cleared his throat and straightened his back. “So are you looking forward to the second date?”

“I don’t think there’s gonna be one,” Dawson said, to Harry’s surprise. “I don’t think she likes me like that?”

Okay, this was the response Harry had been waiting for. He tried to suppress a grin as he patted his cousin’s shoulder sympathetically, while he was far from sympathetic. “Oh, don’t be so pessimistic. I know she’s a bit out of your league, but dare to dream a little.”

“Very funny,” Dawson snorted and brushed off Harry’s hand. “But I think she has a crush on you.”

“Really? I mean, no!” Harry faked a laugh, crossing his arm and leaning against the door in an unnatural pose. “No way.” Now he sounded like a commercial guy who had never attended a single acting class. “She doesn’t...she doesn’t have a crush on me,” he stuttered. “W-Why do you think so?”

Dawson pressed his lips into an understanding smile that made Harry’s face grow red. “All she talked about for the entire night was you.”

Harry thought Dawson was just teasing him at first. Then he remembered that this was Dawson, not him. So it was true. Ezi had talked about him for the whole night when she was with Dawson.

“What did she say?” Harry asked, trying to seem more curious than excited.

“She told me you were a good cook, and then complained about your bad habits. Then it was all ‘Harry said that’ and ‘Harry said this’. It seemed like she was really into you.”

“Oh, wow.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Harry shrugged, trying to act cool and all that. “I’m just surprised. I thought she hated me.”

“I mean, she can still hate you if she has a crush on you,” said Dawson. “Also, why is she staying with you? Where’s her family?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Why didn’t you ask her?”

“She kept mentioning her mother but nothing more than that, and she’d just change the subject whenever I tried to ask.”

Harry didn’t have enough time to think of a lie, so he blurted, “Her family was abusive.”

Dawson looked horrified, but he completely bought that. “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” he said. “She’s a lovely girl, though. I know that you don’t like her, but don’t break her heart. Turn her down nicely.”

Harry blinked. “What?”

“You don’t like Ezili, right?” Dawson asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry laughed, uneasily. “I mean no, I don’t.”

“Yeah, I know you don’t wanna be in a relationship.”

Harry didn’t want to be in a relationship, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel things. He guessed most people would just assume he had no heart because it was easier for them to make sense of why he wouldn’t settle down. In reality it was more complicated than that. He had had feelings for some people in the past, and he’d shut them down before he got to the point of no return. Ezi might be a dangerous creature, but he’d probably hurt more people than she had, mostly himself.

So did he like Ezi? Yes. He’d just realised that when his heart blossomed to the thought of her thinking about him on a date with his cousin. There was no denying that, as he only felt this way about his own songs. But was he happy about it? Well, yeah, of course he was happy about it. He was over the moon even. Still, that didn’t mean he should do something about it. He would just keep it to himself and wait–No, hope for it to pass.

Later that night, when Ezi came home from work, she went straight into the kitchen to eat from the fridge, and Harry came downstairs to find her sitting on the floor, munching off a sandwich in the fridge light glow. He watched her for a moment from the door before deciding to break the silence.

She flinched when hearing her name. She turned around, sandwich still in her mouth. “Did Dawson stop by?” she asked. “He said he would bring me my books.”

“Yeah, he did. I put them in your room,” Harry said, trying his best not to roll his eyes at the mention of his cousin. But then he remembered what Dawson had told him and came to sit beside her on the floor.

She ignored him and continued eating. She looked nothing like someone who had a crush on him, so what if Dawson had lied to him? He had never heard a lie from Dawson, but it didn’t mean Dawson was incapable of lying.

“Ezi, I wanna ask you something,” he said.

She finished her sandwich and reached into the fridge of ice cream. “Go ahead,” she said.

Harry started fidgeting with his shirt. “Why won’t you tell me about that date with Dawson?”

Ezi didn’t look at him as she said, “Do I have to tell you? It was personal.”

“Well, your sister was there,” he reasoned, “and she’s tried to kill me several times so I think I deserve to know some details about that night.”

Yes, Harry was curious about Ezi’s sister as well, but was it bad to say that he wanted to know more about what Ezi thought of him? Was it bad that Ezi’s feelings for him mattered more than his stupid life?

“My sister wasn’t there the whole time,” Ezi sighed and dipped her spoon into the ice cream. “I got rid of her at the fair then went for dinner with Dawson.”

“Oh,” Harry said, watching her intently as she ate. “So—”

“My sister wanted me to go back home.”

Harry froze. “Why?” he blurted, suddenly anxious. “I mean…does your mother want you back? Not that I think she won’t ever want you back—”

“No.” Ezi rolled her eyes. “My sister wants me to go back in return of the throne, so she can be Queen and allow me back into the Queendom.”

“But you wanna Queen?”

“I’m going to be Queen!” Ezi snapped. Seeing the shocked look on Harry’s face, she softened her voice, “I’m the firstborn. I’m going to be Queen. I have a year to…” Her voice trailed off and she spaced out for a second.

“To what?”

Ezi pressed her lips into a tight smile then said, “To stay here. My sister told me that my mother would take me back in a year.”

“That’s the punishment?” Harry chuckled. “Make you stay in this world where a handsome man takes care of you and buys you stuff?” Maybe siren mums weren’t as bad as he’d thought.

“And also bullies me 24/7,” Ezi said.

“Hey!” Harry put up his hands. “You bully me, too.”

“You literally told me you didn’t want to see me around the house.”

“Yeah, well, I like seeing you around the house now.”

“Liar,” Ezi said and took a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. Harry tried not to pay attention to the way she licked the spoon or think about licking ice cream from her lips, but he knew he was going to see a lot of that in his dreams tonight.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ezi held his gaze for two seconds, squinting her eyes. “Fine,” she said at last. “I forgive you.”

“Well, that was easy.”

“For now,” she added, putting the ice cream back into the fridge. “I’ll hate you again when I’m hungry.”

“You’re hungry eighty percent of the time!”

“Yeah.”

Harry chuckled as he watched her amber to the kitchen door. Clenching his fingers, he asked, “When’s your birthday?”

Ezi turned her head. “March 12. Why?”

“So I can say happy birthday to you on March 12.”

“Oh, thanks. Not looking forward to it, though.”

“Also,” Harry said fast before she left. “Do you wanna go to a party with me?”

Niall had just reached one million followers on TikTok, so he’d thrown a huge party at his mansion and invited his friends who had brought their friends and their friends’ friends. So the most influential people in the entertainment industry were at the party tonight.

Jeff had suggested that Harry bring Ezi so they could do some PDA stuff at the party to make headlines for the next few days. At first, Harry had planned to make up some excuses so he could go alone.

He and Ezi hadn’t kissed since that day in his mother’s closet. Well, actually, they had had a few pecks on the lips in public, but it’d only been for the paparazzi. It was hard to think about romance when there were at least ten cameras pointing at you.

Their first kiss, however, had been real and…hot. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about it. He didn’t know how Ezi felt since she never talked about it, but he had the impression that she had enjoyed it as much as he had. He couldn’t stop thinking about her flushed cheeks and plum lips as she pulled back, confused yet wanting more. In his dreams last night, they had been in that closet, but their clothes had been discarded, and he’d been pounding her against the wall. It was so hot. He’d had to wank twice when he woke up and he couldn’t make eye contact with Ezi in the kitchen during breakfast. Now he couldn’t get those images out of his mind.

“Harry.”

Harry jumped when his name was called. Ezi gave him a questioning look. She was wearing a little pink strap dress and her hair was in a high bun. She looked so cute tonight; his stylist had done a great job.

“You okay?” she asked, slipping her fingers into his. He knew it didn’t mean anything and she was only doing what Jeff had told her to. But he couldn’t stop the butterflies in his stomach from acting up. “It seemed like your soul left your body for a second.”

“Sorry, this loud music gives me a headache,” he said and finished his glass of wine. Ezi didn’t drink. “You wanna dance?”

Her gaze shot up in surprise. “Do you wanna dance?”

“What do you mean? I’m a fantastic dance partner.”

“But I’ve never danced before. I just got these legs a few weeks ago.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ll be good at it, I’m sure. We’ll wait for a slow song.”

Niall walked by just in time to overhear the conversation, so he shouted, “Slow song for my besties Harry and Ezili!”

Harry tried to stop Niall, but it was too late. Everyone in Niall’s living room was staring at him and Ezi. Jeff would be happy about this, but Harry didn’t think Ezi was. Her fingers tightened around his as she stepped closer, apparently uncomfortable with the intrusive glances they were receiving.

“Come on,” he said, pulling her close. “We’ll show them how great we are.”

“But I’m not—”

He didn’t let her finish and drag her out on the dance floor. There were a few couples slow-dancing around them, but Harry knew he and Ezi were the attention of tonight. In these people’s eyes, they were in love, completely infatuated with each other.

“Follow my lead,” he whispered in Ezi's ear while fixing her posture. “It’s easy.”

For a human who had been to too many of these dances, it was. But Ezi was barely good at walking. And so she ended up stepping on his feet repeatedly. The giggles of some women in the room made her even more anxious, so she almost stopped. But he reassured her by pulling her closer and lifting her chin so she was looking at him instead of them.

“Don’t be nervous. This is your little mermaid moment. Embrace it,” he said, making her smile.

“Ariel was a terrible dancer.”

“True. But she looked pretty stepping on the Prince’s feet.”

Ezi arched an eyebrow, amused. “Are you calling yourself the Prince?”

“I almost got casted for the role of Eric, by the way.”

“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes.

He acted offended. “No, it’s real.”

“As real as Santa Claus.”

“Santa Claus is real,” Harry argued. “Not you saying he isn’t when you’re literally a mythical creature.”

“Shut up,” she chuckled.

“Make me,” he replied.

Harry didn’t know who had initiated it. Maybe they had both leaned in at the same time. But this time as they shared a kiss in a crowded room, it felt like they were all alone in his mother’s closet once again. Of course he had to keep his hands respectfully on her lower back, but the kiss was still hot. He could feel himself being unravelled right there on the dance floor, and he liked the way her fingers twirled the hair at the back of his neck as they melted into one. But then people had to ruin the moment for them by filming it. Jeff would be happy; Harry wasn’t.

He had developed a special talent over the years as a celebrity and could always sense when someone was taking pictures of him. It made him uneasy and distracted, so he had to pull back. He supposed his twisted expression might have given Ezi the wrong idea. She thought it was her that made him uncomfortable. And for some stupid reason, Harry let her think that.

They left the party early because Ezi didn’t seem to enjoy it anymore. On the drive home, Harry tried to find a way to apologise for ruining the moment, but he didn’t know how to not make it awkward. She didn’t say a single word to him in the car, and he knew she wasn’t going to unless he started the conversation. But then he didn’t. And so she went to bed angry at him.

Harry felt really bad about it. He knew it wouldn’t be this way if he had communicated like a normal human being. But it wasn’t easy. He didn’t want to admit to her that he’d enjoyed kissing her, and he would’ve made out with her in front of all those people had it not been for who he was. He had wanted that moment to be real, but then he remembered it wasn’t, and he felt like he was taking advantage of her.

Maybe she felt that way, too. He wasn’t sure. Or she was just tired and didn’t really care about the kiss, and he was the one making a fuss out of it because he assumed he meant more to her than he really did. Again, Dawson could’ve lied. Ezi might not even have feelings for him. She might think he was a bad kisser even.

As Harry fell asleep that night, he dreamed about her again. They were alone in Niall’s mansion. The music was playing as they slow-danced but nobody was watching. She started kissing him, and he kissed her back. His hands reached around her to unzip her little pink dress and let it pool around her ankles. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His cock was rock hard when they went in for more kissing. Her tongue slid between his lips, her hands reaching for his belt as he fumbled on the buttons of his own shirt. Then he woke up with a tent on his crotch. It was three in the fucking morning, and he was having the worst erection in his life.

Harry slipped his hand under the duvet and started playing with it to relieve some tension, but just as he was about to cum, he heard a loud crash downstairs. Instant boner killer.

“Ezi!” he shouted in frustration, slipped on his boxers and marched out of the room.

“I’m sorry!” Ezi’s voice echoed from downstairs. Harry groaned and headed down to the kitchen where he found her collecting broken pieces of a vase she’d knocked over.

“Just leave it,” he said, grabbing her wrists and pulling her up and away from the glass. “You’d hurt yourself, idiot.”

“I’m sorry. It was dark. I couldn’t see.”

“Why didn’t you turn on the lights?”

She shrugged, which made him laugh, because that was very Ezi of her. “You’re a dumbass,” he said.

“I’m not,” she pouted.

“You are. This only happens to dumbasses.”

“Gosh, you’re an asshole,” she mumbled, arms crossed. She was standing with her back to the counter, and he was blocking her way from the door. Of course she could always sidestep him to leave, but instead, she stayed there, just awkwardly chewing on her nail. She was wearing nothing but a loose white shirt of his. And this time, Harry wasn’t complaining.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she said.

“I’m not even looking at you,” he said, yet staring right at her face.

“You are.”

“How would you know? Unless you’re also looking at me.”

“This is stupid.”

“You’re stupid.”

“No, you—” Ezi’s voice cut off; her gaze dropped to his mouth as if she hadn’t realised how close they were until now. Harry knew that look so well, and usually it would be a sign for him to make a move. But this was Ezi.

“I should go back to bed,” she said, eyes meeting his again.

He nodded, but didn’t get out of the way.

Again, he didn’t know who leaned in first. The moment their mouths collided, all his thoughts evaporated; his walls crumbled, and he was powerless, unable to pull back. There was a kind of power in the way she kissed that he could not resist. He was all hers.

He tightened his arms around her hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he lifted her onto the counter. He could feel his erection growing again in his pants. It didn’t take too long for it to turn fully hard, and she obviously felt it, so she pulled back from their kiss, panting. “It’s…”

“Ignore it,” he breathed, kissing her again, making his way down to her neck and chest. She was squirming now, and he wondered if she was also feeling things down there. “Are you wet?” he asked breathlessly against her lips.

She blinked, confused. “No, I’m dry.”

“No, Ezi,” Harry chuckled, face buried in her neck. “I mean, are you wet between your legs?”

“Oh.” She licked her perfect lips and nodded once. “Yeah. Like most of the time.”

Harry’s whole body went stiff. “What?”

“Like...whenever I think of us kissing,” Ezi admitted innocently.

Harry didn’t know which was hotter. The fact that they were both half-naked and horny right now, or the fact that she got turned on just from thinking of kissing him.

“What do you usually do when it happens?” he asked, adding soft kisses to her lips.

Her fists tightened on his back, her eyelids fluttering. “I r-rub my thighs together.”

Harry smiled as his cock twitched to the thought of it. “Does that feel good?”

Ezi nodded.

“Want me to help you feel even better?”

“You can?”

Harry nodded. He knew it wasn’t right to have sex with her when she didn’t even know what it was, so he wouldn’t rush it. He was just going to help her.

He kissed her once more and got down on his knees between her legs. She looked so hot all spread out in front of him with just his shirt and panties on. She wasn’t lying when she said she was wet. Her panties were completely soaked as he slid them off. She shivered a little yet didn’t protest. She wanted him to help.

He started by kissing her inner thigh. She had the prettiest pussy he had ever seen. He could just cum to the thought of licking her, and he swore he almost did when he took the first try. Her hips jolted, and he glanced up to meet her confused stare.

“If you want me to stop, just say it, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied, biting her nail.

He held her eye contact as he started licking. She tasted as sweet as he’d imagined in those dreams. He still couldn’t believe this was real, but god, the sounds she made sent him to heaven. He dipped his tongue into her and her hands flew to the back of his neck. For a moment she forgot everything and started moving her hips against his face. Fuck. It turned him on so much. He slipped his hand into his boxers and gave himself a few strokes. Then she started to moan, and he worked his hand faster while flicking his tongue into her. He fucked himself until she cummed and made a mess inside his pants, cum dripping onto the floor.

“Is that milk?” Her question got him cackling as he got back to his feet, holding onto the counter on either side of her so he wouldn’t fall. He had never cummed so much; it had literally drained him out.

“No, it’s not milk,” he said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. She looked so fucked out as well, which made him feel so proud. “Did you like that?”

“Yes,” she said shyly. “Did you?”

“Very much,” he said. “I would kiss you again if I hadn’t just eaten you out. Not sure how you’d like it.”

A look of horror crossed Ezi’s face as she quickly checked between her legs.

“No!” Harry laughed. “I didn’t literally eat you. It’s what it’s called.”

“Oh.”

“Dummy.”

“Is it like...sex stuff?”

“Not really sex, just part of the sex. So yeah, sex stuff,” Harry explained, not sure how to feel about this situation. Now that post-nut clarity had hit, he started to feel a bit guilty, but it didn’t he wasn’t proud of himself for making her cum so hard her legs were shaking.

“I still want to kiss, though,” Ezi said shyly. “I don’t care.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry smiled. He liked seeing her blush because of him.

With a nod, she pulled him back in.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles angst #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x mc #harry styles fic rec #harry styles dirty fanfiction

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kodzukyan · 3 years

Text

two hearts, four broken pieces (now we’re unbreakable)

notes: happiest belated birthday to my grand king <3 lots of (long?) dialogue, long talks at the beach, kinda clunky, but i hope you enjoy :> song accompaniment recommendation: unbreakable by lauren dyson (carole & tuesday) & everything i need by skylar grey! also posted on ao3.

summary: you were there like the air when i felt like i was underwater. AU in which you have matching birthmarks on your heart as your soulmate. - oikawa/oc

wc: 6.2k

The clock ticks continually as you finish reviewing the club budget for the upcoming school year. As the last rays of the sun begin to dim into a darkening blue, the clock rings loudly, signaling the end of club activities. The other student council members routinely leave by five, and after a quick goodbye and wave, two hours pass by without you knowing. You glance at your watch, and you sigh softly as you see the shorthand reach seven.

There are still numbers that do not add up, but you suppose that has to wait. Getting up to stretch, you automatically head to the keys cabinet to see which keys are still missing. As usual, the keys to the volleyball gym have yet to be returned.

Like any other day, you sigh again. This is a rather normal occurrence as the volleyball team tends to stay as late as you do. Normally, you don't mind since it’s not a big deal - you’re usually still here to lock up after they leave. Today, however, you’re rather exhausted and would like to finish up your report and just go home. Putting on your white blazer and patting down the wrinkles of your tan skirt, you make certain you’re presentable before you head out of the room and towards the volleyball gym.

A resounding smack reverberates through the air before you even enter the gym. You knock twice on the gym doors, and when there is no answer, you open the doors soundlessly and enter the gym. The gym is unoccupied except for one lone player, making the echoes of each movement louder.

He doesn’t notice you, and as you see him jump to hit a serve, you are in awe by the strength and impact of it as it lands. It astonishes you a little to discover the normally flirty eyes and teasing smiles with such intense concentration and seriousness. When you see a faint smile on his face as his serve lands within the lines of the court, you wonder if this is what he really is like. As he recovers another ball to try again, you clear your throat. This time, you catch his attention, somewhat.

“Sorry, Iwa-chan! You don’t have to wait for me. I’m almost done!” he calls out, eyes never leaving the court.

“Sorry, Oikawa-san. I am not Iwaizumi-san. While I do have to say I am extremely impressed with your tenacity, I am afraid it's late and time for you to go home,” you say politely with a perfectly practiced smile on your face.

The ball he tossed into the air previously drops straight down onto the floor and bounces as he hears your voice. He jerks his head towards you, and you almost want to laugh when you see his gaping mouth.

“Oh, Pres-chan! I wasn’t expecting you!” he recovers swiftly, a hand behind his head and his tongue sticking out humorously.

Ah, he’s back to his normal self.

“Apologies again,” you nod, a courteous smile never leaving your face, despite your slight disdain for your new nickname. You’ve learned it is easiest to deal with people with a perfect smile, lips upturned slightly at a 45-degree angle and eyes crinkled together lightly.

He stares at you intensely as you smile. While his eyes are analytical enough to press anyone under, it doesn’t bother you because you are used to such scrutiny.

“I’ll pack up! Pres-chan, wait for me! I’ll walk you home since it’s so late.” He finally softens in his stares and begins picking up the balls around the court.

“No need to worry about me, Oikawa-san. There are still some matters for me to finish up at the student council room,” you assure him courteously despite your mild annoyance at your stray strand of hair that fell out of your neat ponytail as you tuck it behind your ear.

“No, no! I insist! It’s so late, so it’s dangerous for cute girls like you, Pres-chan!” he protests as he continues cleaning.

You begin assisting him to pick up the balls and grab the mops to clean up the gym. The more hands there are, the faster you two get to leave. After cleaning up the gym and returning the keys to the student council room, you continue to decline his offer of walking you home. Being around him for a little less than 30 minutes has already tired you, but you find it more draining to talk him out of it so you just relent.

He accompanies you back to your house at your pace, constantly filling the silence with some sort of conversation. He seems to recognize your need for distance, so he keeps the conversation light, never diving in deeper than what you are willing to give. You respond as amiable as you could with this surface-level sort of conversation. This is comfortable, this is straightforward, this is not about who you are, so you find it easy to keep up your practiced smile and pleasantry.

For what it’s worth, you can understand why he’s so popular. He’s attractive, and his personality is tolerable enough. But something about him is slightly unpleasant to you. You have an inkling of what it is, but you’re not ready to open the tightly sealed jar of emotions yet.

When you reach your stop and he bids you goodbye, you find yourself face to face with your cousin, who just squeals and questions you.

“Who is he?” she exclaims loudly, far too energetic for so late at night. “What if he is your soulmate?!”

You smile tersely, “He is just a classmate.”

She only looks at you in confusion. “Eh? You never know! Did you already see his mark?”

You flash her a practiced smile as you excuse yourself.

“No, I was born without one.”

---

You like routine. This is something you’ve established for as long as you remember. If things are set in place, set in stone, then they are less likely to fall apart, to break.

So when walking home with Oikawa Tooru stays as a recurring part of your days, it makes you uneasy.

This is not part of your normal routine. But you suppose him returning the volleyball gym keys instead of you wrestling him for them is also not part of your normal routine.

“You know, for someone so smart, you’re kind of dumb."

You finally look up from your papers. Your pen still in hand, eyes in disbelief, and voice laced with venom as you hiss, “Excuse me?”

“Pres-chan, even I know when to stop. It's nearly 8 in the evening. Your body needs rest so you can function as efficiently as you always want to,” he rolls his eyes as he air-quotes the word efficiently. The volleyball gym keys jingle in his hand as he does so, and the sound of it aggravates your headache.

"This is coming from the one who stays behind two hours every day after club activity ends? Stop trying to preach what you don’t practice." Your grip on your pen tightens.

"I take Mondays off," he shrugs and offers a lopsided smile. There's a serious glint in his eyes despite his casual gestures.

You know he's right because the keys to the volleyball club always hang neatly and untouched every Monday. You know he's right when you finally let yourself feel the tiredness in your body. You know he's right when your headache finally catches up to you, but you simply cannot completely let go.

Maybe he sees your sagging shoulders and weary eyes, so he doesn't press the matter anymore. He hangs the clubroom keys in the cabinet before he walks over.

"You can rest, you know?"

You do, but you can't. Not when there are so many reports to fill out and papers to file, not when the club budgeting still isn't adding up, not when you have to be the you that your father created inside his head. Your brows cease together as your head throbs. Before you could respond, you feel a gentle pat on your head that brings you out of your thoughts.

"You're doing great, Pres-chan. Take a break," he speaks softly as he strokes your head.

You close your eyes at his touch, and you relish in his gentleness. For someone with such calloused hands, his touch is surprisingly tender. His voice sounds distant, and it feels like he's speaking past you, like he's speaking to whoever he sees in place of you. You think maybe this is what you needed anyways, this is what you want to hear even if he’s speaking to himself through you.

"Take a nap. I'll wake you up in 20 minutes," he ruffles your hair, messing up your perfectly tied ponytail.

You glance at him briefly, and his stupid smile irritates you. Maybe your headache is getting the better of you, maybe you’re just too tired, but you find yourself nodding as your shoulders finally drop in defeat. "10 minutes."

He laughs as he agrees, and when you finally lay your head down and close your eyes, you briefly feel the warmth of his jersey before you drift off.

When you wake, you find that Oikawa is sitting beside you, humming a soft tune as he scrolls on his phone. It takes you a moment to blink the sleep out of your eyes, and then it occurs to you that he never woke you up. Your eyes flutter to the clock, and when you see that it's a little past 9, you panic. You shoot instantly up from your seat, and your sudden movement leaves you dizzy as the world around you rapidly spins in color. Oikawa stops mid-hum as looks up from his phone before he secures your arm to steady you.

"Holy shit, I thought I told you to wake me up in 10 minutes. The papers need to be filed so we can work on the report due next week. I need to finish the reports, so I can turn them in on Friday. The budgeting excel -."

"Pres-chan." He cuts you off as he takes his hand off your arm and pokes your forehead. "I filed the papers on your desk. They go into their respective color-coded drawers, right? And the reports are just club updates, yeah? I arranged them by club type, so you can just sort through them later. Also, I put the volleyball club on top, so get to us first, okay?" he teases lightly and sticks his tongue out mischievously. "I didn't mess with your budgeting excel because it's not my place to, but don't you think you can ask your treasurer to explain their budgeting and money management so far?"

You blink at him in silence as you take in all the information he told you. You glance over at your desk and see the piles of loose paper gone. In place are new stacks of reports clipped together with the assortment of pastel paper clips you brought last month on a whim. Your surprise overtakes you as you let out a shaky breath.

"Oh," you whisper, breath still quivering and voice slightly trembling. "Thank you."

You make a mental note to double-check everything again in the morning, just in case. That thought almost flies out of your head when you glance over, and the smile he flashes you is so bright you almost forget how to breathe.

"You're welcome."

When he accompanies you home that night, your steps feel a little lighter and your heart soars a little higher as you catch a glimpse of his profile, eyes fixated on the stars above as he tells you stories of constellations and aliens.

---

While you’re not an avid volleyball fan, witnessing their defeat to Karasuno in such a close match, watching the light in their eyes dim into a quiet somber crush on your heart. When the match was over and they asked for the keys to the gym, you gave it to them without hesitation although the gym is supposed to be closed for cleaning later today.

Throughout the hours, you find yourself unable to completely focus on the paperwork in front of you. Your eyes keep trailing to the empty key slot where the gym keys are supposed to be, and your ears are fixated on each tick of the clock. Fidgeting with your pen, you finally give in and let out an uneven sigh when the clock rings eight. After smoothing out your skirt and blazer and retying your neat ponytail, you make your way to the gym.

As always, you knock on the doors before coming in. Only silence greets you.

The gym is vacant, and the cheering crowds and rest of the volleyball team members have long gone home after their spontaneous practice. Volleyballs are still scattered everywhere, the net is still up, but none of that matters as your eyes focus on the lone figure lingering in this solemn, almost crushing, silence.

His eyes are downcast, but you can tell from the hitching movement of his chest and the pooling puddle in his lap that he hasn't stopped crying. There is so much you want to tell him, but no words come to you. You’re not even sure if you’re in a position to say anything, but when you see him sitting there defeated and crying silently, a split image of yourself instead of him appears for a moment. The tightly sealed jar of emotions you’ve repeatedly tried to suppress opens.

"You don't have to be perfect, you know?" you tell him softly.

He doesn't look up and only clenches his fists.

You pat the creases out of your skirt as you squat down, hands gently touching his before clasping them firmly. The words burn in the back of your throat as your eyes tear because you know. You know this feeling, this absolutely crushing feeling when all you have is taken away and you’re just left with nothing. Maybe you’re projecting your failures onto him, maybe this is just what you wanted to hear, but you tell him all the same.

"You're so much more than just your losses," you whisper with gentle firmness, "This is not the end. Not for you. Not for your volleyball."

His calloused hands only grip yours tightly as his silent tears fall and roll off your skin.

"You are not your failures."

You barely detect the sound of him letting out a deep breath, but he squeezes your hands. It may not be enough, it may not be okay, but it’s a start.

As the two of you sit in silence, you can merely laugh at yourself for ever thinking Oikawa Tooru was anywhere close to perfect. He is incredibly fragile, human, and unlike a star that you thought you could never reach, he is here beside you. He sniffles every so often, and when every so often becomes more often than not, you laugh lightly and offer him a tissue.

He accepts it with a sniffle, and as he blows his nose, you could only crinkle your nose.

“Ew, you’re gross,” you lightly poke fun at him.

“I was going to say thank you, but I take it back now,” he gasps dramatically.

You roll your eyes as you offer him the rest of your tissues. “It’s fine. I don’t need your thanks. Just… feel better.”

“Thank you,” he whispers anyway as he props his head on yours.

---

You hear three knocks, two fast knocks, a pause as if it’s left for drastic effects, before the third knock, in a familiar rhythm. Instantly, the wooden doors of the student council room open, and brown hair and honey-colored eyes peek in.

“Wanna do something fun with me, Pres-chan?” Oikawa asks, eyes brilliant and smile equally mischievous.

"... Depends on what it is," you raise an eyebrow at him as you look up from finishing some preparations for university. You've substantially given up trying to advise him to wait before barging into the student council room.

He wiggles his eyebrows before he grins. “Let’s go to the rooftop!"

It takes you a moment to comprehend what he said because while it’s not that crazy, the rooftop is off-limits to students. Subsequently, it occurs to you that out of your three years here, you've under no circumstances done anything remotely rebellious. The adrenaline hits you, so you snatch the keys to the rooftop before heading out the door.

"Alright, let's go."

He freezes before his mouth drops and gasps dramatically. "Heh, Pres-chan, looks like you really aren't that much of a good girl after all."

You roll your eyes at him, and a soft smile finds a way to your face before you walk out. "Hurry up, or I'm leaving you behind."

"Wait for me!!" You hear the scampering footsteps, and you swear you can hear his pout.

This is the first time you’ve ever been on the rooftop, you think, as you finally unlock the door and step out into the sun. It’s a little past seven, and you think the sun is going to set soon as it slowly fades behind the Miyagi skylines in bursts of orange. You close your eyes as the wind blows, almost as if it’s greeting you. You can see why people skip all the time to be up here.

“Feels pretty good, huh?” Oikawa stands beside you as the wind tousles his hair and the sun kisses his skin. He looks radiant under the sunlight, and you merely hope he doesn’t hear the fluttering of your heart.

“Yeah,” you nod along, “I… I wish I came up here earlier.

Honey brown eyes so deep and warm, staring directly at you, and there is something that you’re terrified to name. You always thought love was something dramatic, once in a lifetime, and it just hits you like a train out of nowhere. With Oikawa Tooru, it feels more like learning to walk - steadily, one step after another, until he becomes a part of your natural routine.

You can see the longing and something akin to love in his eyes, but you know it's not love. You know when he loves, he loves with all his being. Right now, there is something, but it's not love because he sees not only you but also past you. He sees the light at the end of the tunnel, the future where he's standing on a volleyball court with his name on the back of a national team jersey. He sees the passion and the love he has for volleyball beyond you, and even when he's here in the moment, even when he likes you, he sees something greater.

Your heart clenches because you want it to be you, you want you, this to be enough. But you know he is meant for something so much greater. He is meant for the stage lights of an international court, living and thriving with so much passion and love for the sport he dedicates his life to. He is unmeant to be here, to be held back by something called love.

You try ignoring the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, try ignoring the way his eyes linger at your lips as if he wants to kiss you. You try ignoring your yearning heart when all you can hear in your head is him telling you he's going to Argentina.

“You’re going to do great in Argentina.” You swallow the lump in your throat and interlace your own fingers together to prevent yourself from reaching out and holding his hand.

He blinks, and slowly retracts his extended hand, and swallows the words he wants to tell you. “Oh, uhm,” he hesitates. “Geez, Pres-chan! Don’t make it sound like we’re never going to see each other again!” he pouts dramatically, voice creaking just ever so slightly and eyes lacking the playful glint in it. “We’ll see each other again.”

He sounds hesitant, almost as if he’s doubtful if he can uphold the words of a promise. He doesn’t deserve to be held back by a promise.

You let him go.

It’s funny because you don’t even think he is yours to let go, but you smile anyway as you catch his unfaltering eyes back on the sunset. He is the one who teaches you a little bit about being okay, the one who first opens the tightly sealed jar and lets a gale of fresh air into your world.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly. Your hand finds its way to him, fingertips ghosting over his hand almost as if you didn’t just reject his moments ago.

The wind blows softly, and the blooming cherry blossoms flutter as he blinks in confusion before he smiles crookedly too. In a world where you are braver, you would have voiced the three words lingering on your mind instead of the two that came out, and your lips would have been on his instead of settling for a ghost of a touch of hands. But in this world, this is all you can do, all you can intend for.

Instead, the two of you continue to stand in silence, sharing this one last moment where he can stand on both legs without leaning to his left to accommodate for his right knee, where you can laugh in a loose smile and ruffled hair without feeling the need to fix them. It’s satisfactory, you tell yourself, this is enough.

While he may not be your soulmate, while you have no soulmate mark, it hurts all the same. Your heart still breaks as the falling sunlight fades into the deep indigo skies, as he waves goodnight, as you watch him go with the world on his shoulders and wings on his back. The hollowness in your chest aches, and you wonder if this is what heartbreak feels like.

---

“Funny, huh? Out of all the people in the world, out of all the places in the world, I end up meeting you on an Argentinian beach, thousands of miles away from home,” you stifle your laughter softly.

The hot summer wind blows into your unbound hair, bringing grains of sand and the scent of the ocean. The shore calls you, and you find yourself wiggling your toes in the clear waters. As you look to the horizon, you find that the crystalline waters contrast vividly against the soft pinks and oranges of the fading sun. It’s so surreal, and it makes you momentarily forget that there are responsibilities, people waiting for you back at home.

The faint rustling and the loud splash of water wake you from your trance, and you find Oikawa Tooru running into the waters carefreely. His pants are roughly rolled up just barely above the water level. His eyes are tender and his smile is wide as he holds his hand out to you.

“Come on, Pres-chan,” he gestures his hand in front of you again. “The water feels really nice!”

You take a moment to breathe because he looks beautiful with his brown eyes twinkling mischievously and lips upturned jovially and carefreely against the fleeting sunset. You smile once more, lips upturn softly instead of the traditional 45 degrees, as the last strands of your hair frees from your hair tie.

You briefly remember being eighteen, standing on the rooftop of your high school. His hand is extended, but you were too afraid to take it, too afraid to become a burden. You blink once and think maybe this time, he should have a say in his own decisions instead of you selfishly making it for him. You take his hand, hesitantly and shyly, as you take your first steps into the water.

Time stills as your eyes meet his brown ones. He stares at you dumbfoundedly, and you are unsure if the pinks of his cheeks are from you or the sunset.

“You look happier,” he finally comments softly, “I’m glad.”

Now it’s your turn to stare at him dumbfoundedly. Your hand covers a slight laugh that breaks from your lips. You take in his wind-tousled chestnut hair and eyes closed from his laughter, his muscular body that no longer tends to lean on his left side absentmindedly to protect his right knee, and you realize he is more genuine, more candid, more Oikawa Tooru than the one you’ve known since high school.

“You do too.”

”Wanna grab drinks after?” Oikawa asks nonchalantly as the two of you finally make your way out of the water and sit under the broad umbrella from the blazing sun. His long legs are stretched out as he leans back, hands propping him up.

Despite his relaxed posture and even voice, you see his fingers wiggling in the sand and the pinks peeking on his cheeks and the tip of his ears. It almost makes you laugh because you’re certain you can reckon on one hand how many times Oikawa Tooru seems so timid.

“I mean”- he continues, taking your silence as a declination, -“just as friends, to catch up, you know? How have you been? Oh! What about your cousin? Didn’t she -”

“Okay,” you laugh lightly. “I’d be happy to.”

“-Oh, now that I think about it, what did you end up doing- wait -” he pauses mid-sentence as he stares at you bewilderedly, ”-okay?”

“Yes,” you laugh again, much louder and without restraint. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats after you again.

“Yes, okay.” You nod.

The smile he gives you is so bright it outshines the sun.

---

"So, how are you?" he asks again once you're seated beside him, a beer in hand and dusk in view.

You offered a general answer earlier, and it started a train of small talk that never breaches past the surface. It reminds you of high school and leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth.

The beach in Argentina is always full of life, but it's quieter now. Maybe it's the fact that it's getting late or the fact that you're on your third beer already, all you can focus on is the man beside you.

Maybe you're more honest now too because he looks like he wants to ask more. (Like he asks “how are you?” when all his eyes are saying is “I love you.”)

"I threw my phone into the ocean and got in a screaming match with my dad," you tell him honestly.

You can feel his gaze on you as he lets out a soft hum to let you know he's listening. It used to unnerve you whenever he looks at you like that, whenever he makes you feel so transparent. Now, it makes you smile because he always makes you feel so seen.

"He told me to be all these things that I am not because he wanted me to have a good life. I know his intentions and know it makes him happy. But I was so fed up with just constantly not being enough for who he wanted me to be, so I told him I just wanted to be his daughter."

You don't realize your hands are shaking until you feel his hands on yours. He pulls the beer bottle out of your hands before he places them into his own and squeezes them.

"And what did he say?" he asks softly, recalling all the late nights and the mask you put on at school in the name of a shadow that always looms over you. He remembers the instant drop of your face whenever your father comes up, when the words duty and filial piety become a burden instead of pride on your shoulders.

"He just kinda stared at me and stopped talking. I think it didn't occur to him that this was a thought in my head. I cried a lot." You squeeze his hands back.

"Yeah, I'm glad you gave him a piece of your mind, though." His voice is gentle as his thumb brushes over your knuckles.

"He cut me fruit after, so I think we're okay," you laugh awkwardly as you flash him a smile. "I think I'm okay."

He smiles too when he notices your smile is a lot freer now, that the corners of your lips are no longer locked in place and forced in front of fake pleasantries. Maybe he's freer now too, he thinks as he looks at the brightly lit skies, as he continues his volleyball journey, feeling so fulfilled despite being thousands of miles away from home.

"I used to think I wasn't good enough," he starts honestly with a small laugh. "No matter how hard I work, I could never be enough compared to geniuses who just get it."

“I used to think you were so put together when I initially met you, like the universe's spotlight was meant for you,” you hum. “Until I realized you were the reason why the volleyball gym keys were never returned on time.”

He laughs light-heartedly. “Hey, I had an image to keep up, okay?”

You tuck in your knees and prop your head on top of them, eyes never leaving his, hand still in his. “I think I realized you were a lot more reachable, human even, when I saw you broke down after losing to Karasuno our third year.”

“Are you deriving comfort in my pain? How rude!” He pouts. “But I somewhat get it. I used to think you were super snobby with your fake smiles and your super tight ponytail. I used to think you were going to be balding early!”

“You were the one who habitually had a hoard of fangirls around you, and nobody could get anyplace in the hallways!” You retort with a fond smile.

Memories of high school seem so long ago, and as you recall each one, you see the light in his eyes waning and waxing with the tides. The feelings you try so hard to bury, the ones you try to let go of the day he set off to Argentina bubble through your chest and flow onto your lips.

"I think I was too scared to love you," you finally whisper as the moon rises and the waves kiss the shore.

He stares at you and blinks once, twice, before he breathes a soft, “Oh.”

You finally take your eyes off him, hand finally wiggling its way out of his to encase yourself as you bury your face in your knees. “I wanted to be enough. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t for my dad, wasn’t for myself, wasn’t for you.”

He leans closer and brushes a strand of loose hair off your face. “You are always enough. For your dad, for yourself,” he pauses and smiles gently, “And you are more than enough for me.”

You peek at him through your lashes. The ocean waves drown out the sound of your heartbeat as he stares at you earnestly, eyes honest and lips so, so close.

“I didn’t want you to regret me,” you whisper, voice barely audible, “I didn’t want to be someone who holds you back from your dreams. I didn’t want to be just temporary until you find your soulmate.”

His eyes widen, but he persists steadily close. “I don’t think I could ever regret you. My dreams will always be the national court, but you being there, by my side, would be the best part of it.”

He takes a breath as he reaches for your hand, much like he did at the rooftop of your high school.

“I was born without a soulmate mark. Initially, I was so upset because I thought no one would love me unconditionally like a soulmate is supposed to. But honestly, fuck that. Fuck soulmates. Fuck some pre-destined person supposedly made for you because no one is. We are in control of our own fate, and we are in control of whom we choose to love. And I like you Pres-chan. I have since I was eighteen and dumb. I still like you now at twenty and still a little dumb. But no matter how old I am, how old I will be, it’s always you. I will always choose to love you.”

You breathe in sharply as you listen to his words, every sound and syllable clear as his eyes as he looks at you, only you. There is only truth in his words, and as your eyes wander from his to his hand and back to his eyes, the overwhelming amount of sincerity overwhelms you.

Oikawa Tooru has always been dedicated in all that he does, and the thought that he is offering you that very same dedicated heart of his becomes a consuming warmth in your chest. The heat of your fluttering heart radiates off your cheeks, and the feeling that has been blossoming in your heart blooms into an indescribable softness and affection.

Love has perpetually been something out of reach, something you witness in movies and read in books, something you witness in your friends and cousin. But love is here now, in the form of Oikawa Tooru with his hands stretched out for you to take, with his heart bare and exposed for you to have.

“I was born without a soulmate mark too. I used to hate it because it felt like it was another thing I was lacking in. I wasn’t even enough to have a soulmate,” you breathe out, eyes on the ocean that reflects on the moonlight. The last bits of the tightly sealed jar of emotions you’ve kept finally flows out.

“But if soulmates do exist, I would like to think they are made. Not in the sense that they are made for each other, because fuck destiny, but in the sense that we wake up every morning and choose who fits us and how they fit. And whatever this is we have between us, we forged it,” you start firmly as you place your hand in his, eyes meeting his. The last bit of bitterness flows into the sea, and the only thing that remains at the bottom of this jar is hope.

“I like you too, Oikawa. I have since I was eighteen and smart. I still do at twenty and moderately smarter but still trying to figure life out. And I don’t know what the future holds or even what I’m doing to do from here on, but I want it to be you.”

“I want it to be you too. I can’t promise you the world or where our lives will lead from here onwards. What I can promise is I will choose you, from the moment I wake up until the moment I sleep, from now until the end of the ocean.”

A promise, his truth. While the unknown horrifies you, this is enough. You smile as you squeeze his hand. When he grins and squeezes your hand back, you think maybe love is irrevocably here to stay.

---

“What were you before you met me?” He takes one of your hands in his and uses his other in an attempt to tame your unconstrained hair against the wind. He pouts when he finds that your hair just blows wildly and gives up, but he smiles, nonetheless, when he hears your unrestrained laughter.

You shake your hair out of your face and turn to face him, hair blowing wildly and freely with the wind. You tear your eyes away from slow waves of the ocean, illuminated by the brilliant reds and oranges of the setting sun, and you find yourself more captivated by glowing brown eyes than you ever could by the dazzling colors of the horizon.

You stare briefly at him, looking into his eyes and seeing his relentless soul, and the butterflies in your stomach flutter like they did the very first time, feeling absolutely starstruck. You hum softly as you turn back to the peaceful waves and remember the tight ponytails and painted smiles of your high school days. You remember the weight on your shoulders to become someone ideal and the heaviness on your heart to become a you that only lives to make your father proud.

“I think... I was drowning,” you answer almost inaudibly but honestly, both hands gripping his tightly as if you’re holding a lifeline.

He pauses for a moment before he squeezes your hands again. He whispers then, reluctantly and almost fearfully, “And what are you now?”

You turn to meet his eyes. You recall him at seventeen and feeling annoyed because he mirrored every bit of the pretense you put up in all the undesirable ways. But you see him now, twenty and free of the inferiority and limitations he places on himself, and you wonder if you also look older, wiser, happier because you are now the you you want to be.

You have always associated him with air because he is terrible and unpredictable, destructive and clear, focused and silent. But he is also comforting and calm, like an invisible force, who's consistently going and going, with unhindered sight. He is always persistently here and cannot be turned away, and before long, you find yourself not knowing what to do without it.

At the moment, you find the last bits of the riptides that pull you under the waters finally cease, and as you enjoy the scent of the salty ocean and hear the lull of the gentle waves, you think you can finally breathe freely and vivaciously.

Slowly, you take a hand to trace the outline of the miniature matching sun tattooed on his chest, where the soulmate mark is supposed to appear. You smile undoubtedly and wholeheartedly.

“Water.”

---

you’re what i need cause now i can breathe; you put the beat in my heart. somehow we fit together, and now we’re unbreakable.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #oikawa fluff #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa toru x you #happy birthday to my mf grand king <3 #slightly late because tumblr was being dumb </3 #please give unbreakable from carole and tuesday a listen! :')#this has been sitting in my drafts since october lmfao pls take it before i hate it even more pain #sorry for the choppiness </3 #sometimes i write things #soulmates au series #text

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princessphilly · 3 years

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Tag list: @ohpuckyeah @joelsfarabee @besthockeyfics @dreamer1430 @defiant-mouse @miracleonice87 @lovethepreds @linkingdolans @chicagostylehockey @heatherlcrosby87 @hockeywocs @shortstacks-blog @heatherawoowoo @newlibrary @markymarkstrom @iangiemae @puckbitchesgetmoney @missymore @himbos-on-ice @fiveholegoal @no-pucks-given @pagirl6866 @willieshakesqueer @nazdaddy @whatishockey @alphalib22 @romanseggy @laurenairay @konecny-s @cutiesara23 @myhockeyworld87 @extratragic @squidlywiddly87 @stuff4me2do @allinangel93 @mydarkestsecretlol @t0xickisses2 @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @tangercrosbyschultzfan25887 @shelbsatans

CW: soft smut, mentions of miscarriage, fucked up doctors.

This is definitely it. Sid and Nina’s story is over but you will see them in the other fics of this universe, including a huge part of Plain Jane

Nina stared at the boxes. It was time to pack but at the same time, she couldn’t do it.

They were so excited. A baby so early in their marriage had seemed scary but Sid and Nina were ready. They had picked out colors, a room for a nursery, and had begun to discreetly pick up supplies.

It was nineteen weeks; still early but they were getting ready to announce. Then there was the blood in the toilet three days ago when Nina woke up and went to the bathroom. And now, their first, a girl, was gone.

The doctor was sympathetic, and said it happens a lot. Most pregnancies never make it to birth, she said. But it hurt that their girl was now an angel. Nina sniffled as she packed the pack-and-play back into the box.

“Hey, why are you doing that? You’re supposed to rest!”

Nina looked up, tears in her eyes. Sidney rushed to her, lowering himself to the floor. Gathering his wife in his arms, he soothed, “Pretty girl, we’ll have more.”

“But-but-“

Nina’s tears turned into sobs as she relaxed in her husband’s arms. Her momma had a history of miscarriages: what if that meant that there would never be a child?

As if he could read her mind, Sidney replied, “it doesn’t matter, I love you no matter what.”

Nina was sleeping, finally getting some rest. Matthew was napping on Sidney’s chest, his little boy still red but much calmer.

It hadn’t been an easy birth for Nina. This was their third pregnancy but first child to make it past the 2nd trimester. And Matthew decided to come out three weeks early, November 26 instead of his due date of December 17.

The door opened and Matthew stirred a bit before settling back down. Sidney looked around: his mother was curled into a chair, reading a book while Tracy was scrolling her phone on the couch. The proud grandfathers had gone out to get lunch for everyone.

Walking in, the doctor said, “The nurse said Nina is healing nicely but we will have to do some stitches. Your son is a big boy.”

Sidney gave him a tentative grin. Matthew was 9lbs, 4 oz and 22 inches long. He was on the bigger side. The doctor continued, “When I stitch her, I can give her a husband stitch, if you like.”

“What is that,” Sidney asked, wrinkling his nose.

Trina interjected, “Don’t you dare, Sidney.”

In a soothing voice, the doctor said, “it’s an extra stitch to make your wife as tight as she was before she gave birth.” He winked at Sidney.

Sidney looked at his mother before responding, “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“No,” Nina managed to say, opening her eyes. “I heard about that stitch and I will sue if you do that to me.”

“You heard her.”

Sidney gave the doctor a hard look as he shrugged, preparing to give Nina only the necessary stitches. Passing his boy to his mother, Sidney said, “I’d like a different doctor.”

“What, I’ve been-”

Sidney took out his phone, ready to start making some calls. The doctor left, grumbling under his throat. Nina gave Sidney a grateful smile before dozing off again.

One of the hardest things for Sidney was the fact that it was best for his boy not to grow up in Canada. As a proud Canadian, that rankled him. He wanted Matt to be more Canadian than American. But when a video of 2 year old Matt skating and hitting a puck dead center into the net made major news, Sidney knew he had no choice. He wanted Matt to have more of a childhood than him, to not feel like he had to be the next one.

So, his family spent most of the year in Pittsburgh and summers in Cole Harbour or on different vacations. Sidney knew that his son was still “famous” but Matt was still treated as a kid. With Nina’s extended family, there wasn’t any preferential treatment. His kids were the same as their cousins in Nina’s family, giving his children normalcy Sidney never had as a child.

Sidney raked a hand through his silver hair. As much as he wanted Matt to go his own way, it still freaked him out that his son chose to be a *goalie* out of all positions. He winced as he heard a shot hit the post. Then Matt made a glove save and Sid clapped.

“That’s not the talent I expected but he’s already showing signs of being a better goalie than center, Sid.”

Sidney turned to his longtime mentor and now close friend, Mario. Shrugging, he replied, “I just want him to be happy. He’s happy, I’m happy.”

Sidney smirked. “Plus, Chloe is going to be the best woman’s hockey player ever. She’s 8 and she’s already playing with 10 to 12 year old girls.”

“True,” Mario conceded. “You’ve transitioned from pro to hockey dad.”

“Eh, can’t forget Aja and Morgan. I’m a hockey, figure skating, soccer, and dance dad. Not bad for a fifty year old washed up player.”

“Who’s washed up?”

Sidney grinned as his wife bumped him with her hip. His baby girl was holding Nina’s hand, her hair pulled up into a dancer’s bun. Chloe was right behind her, still clad in her hockey gear, Aja trailing behind with a book in her hands.

“I am,” Sidney drawled.

Chloe piped up, “No you’re not, Daddy! You’re still the best hockey player ever!”

“Yup,” Morgan added while Aja nodded, absorbed in her book.

“No, you’ll be the best hockey player ever, Chlo’,” Aja stated, closing her book. “Daddy will be the best men’s hockey player.”

As Aja firmly nodded, Sidney and Mario laughed.

Nina let out a breath. It was crazy how just one touch from Sidney made her hot, even seventeen years later. His lips were trailing down her neck, one hand cupping her breasts. “Can you be quiet for me, pretty girl?”

“Uh huh,” Nina breathed out. Sidney’s other hand was exploring her folds. She was getting wet but menopause was finally calling so Nina knew they would need some help. Leaning away from Sidney, she pulled out the lube from the drawer.

“Thanks, pretty girl, but I’m more interested in burying my face in your pussy,” Sidney laughed.

Nina replied softly, “No problem. You know my mom just came back from her cruise so the girls will go find her first this morning.”

“Even better. Spread your legs for me, pretty girl. You know what daddy wants.”

Nina let out a giggle that quickly turned into a muffled moan as she felt Sidney’s tongue gently lick through her pussy, his nose nudging her clit the way she liked it. He ate her slowly, bringing Nina close to the edge but never letting her go. Then Sidney stopped, kissing his way up Nina’s body before kissing her, letting Nina taste herself.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Nina urged, “Please, Sidney,” managing to keep her voice at a whisper. Before he could answer, they heard some girlish giggles and they both paused.

“I locked the door last night,” Sidney whispered into Nina’s ear. Nina giggled then moaned as she felt Sidney’s fingers spread the cool lube over her pussy. Then he entered her, nice and slow.

“Love you, pretty girl,” Sidney whispered as Nina arched against him. She was clenching around his cock; he wanted to go slow and savor it this morning but Nina had different ideas.

Nina whispered, “Love you, too,” her fingernails digging into his back. Then she squeaked as Sidney withdrew, turning her onto her hands and knees.

“Momma, you promised to make breakfast today.”

Nina straggled into the kitchen, her robe wrapped tightly around her body. “Morg, it’s 9:30 in the morning on a Saturday, it’s still morning.”

Chloe piped up, “You’re usually up before us everyday, Momma.”

Nina shared a look with Sidney who squelched a laugh. He had planned to just go one round with his wife but it turned into three to start off the day right.

Sighing, Nina grabbed bowls to prepare waffles. Morgan added, “Mimi made waffle batter already, Momma.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Nina sincerely stated.

Tracey shrugged. “I figured I’d give you a break since I’ve been gone. You know I love my grand girls.”

Matthew yawned as he walked into the kitchen, his hair sticking up all over his head. “Hi,” he sleepily said before going to the fridge and grabbing a bottle of Gatorade.

“It’s too early for energy drinks, Matt,” Sidney chided.

“Sorry, Dad.”

Matthew was about three weeks from turning twelve and the whole teenage era was coming fast. Now, he was sleeping in and staying up late. Nina sighed, it was too early for one of her babies to grow up.

“I would have woken up earlier but these girls had to jump on my bed at 7am, Dad,” Matthew complained. “They said your door was locked. Why do they always have to bother me?”

“Because we love you, Matty,” Aja said with a mischievous smile. “And some girl sent you messages while you were asleep.”

Matthew glared at his little sister. “Girls are ugly. Especially girls like you.”

Sid and Nina shared a look. Sid just had “the talk” with Matthew and they were both happy he still saw girls as ugly, at least for now. Tracey said, “Oh baby, that’s no way to talk to your little sister.”

“I’m sorry, Mimi,” Matthew said, giving his grandmother a kiss. “Momma, can we have blueberry waffles today?”

“Plain waffles,” Nina said firmly. “You can add blueberries, strawberries, or peaches as a fruit topping.”

“No chocolate chips?”

Chloe and Morgan gave their mother their biggest puppy-dog eyes. Nina shook her head. They then give Sidney the same look, saying together, “Daddy, can we have chocolate chips with our waffles?”

Sidney laughed as he picked up two of his girls. “You two already know the answer to that!”

Chloe pouted as Morgan laughed at the silly faces Sidney was making. Sidney added, “It’s Saturday so you know today is ice cream day after dinner. Did anyone feed Maddie?”

Nina giggled as she turned on the grill. At the mention of her name, Maddie, their dog, ran into the kitchen. Pharaoh, their cat, followed Maddie in, stretching before walking around her legs. As her family noisily talked, Nina sighed in happiness. She loved her family, life was perfect.

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kirishimaswife2819 · 3 years

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Kitty || Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x Fem!Reader

Summary: You get hit by a quirk that turns you into a cat, and Shoto finds you and takes you home

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: This is my first post, so don’t mind if it’s a little bad. Also if anybody’s interested, I am taking requests. On my page there’s a post about the rules for requesting, so check those out before you request. -Danielle <3

You sat beside a rather large bush, looking for somebody familiar, but nobody you knew was coming by. Earlier in the day, you had been at the park with your little cousin, who didn’t have her quirk yet, or at least, you thought she didn’t have a quirk yet.

The little blonde haired girl chased you around the park, since you were playing tag.

“I’m gonna get you!” She exclaimed, as you turned to see how far away she was. But you underestimated how fast she was and she was right in front of you. You stumbled back on a branch, and your cousin leaned forward, touching your shoulder, and suddenly you weren’t in the park anymore. You were on a rather busy sidewalk, trying to process the situation

You went to bring a hand up and rub your head, but found that you couldn’t. You looked down to be met with, paws? Your eyes widened, when you stood up on four legs and realized that you were an animal. Quickly, you scurried out of the way to avoid being stepped on, and sat beside a bush, waiting for somebody to help.

Throughout the day, a few people stopped to pet you, but none took you anywhere or attempted to. It was late and there was a slight breeze, causing you to shiver despite the cold. As you sat there, tired, cold and hungry, you spotted a familiar head of red and white hair walking down the sidewalk.

He almost walked right past you, but you meowed and he stopped to look at you.

“Hello there,” he spoke, looking at you. You were a kitten with h/c fur, and e/c eyes. He spoke again, “What’s a little thing like you doing out here all alone?” Shoto bent down, and scratched behind your ear, causing you to let out a purr and rub your head against his hand.

“You must be cold,” Shoto said, and you licked his hand as a way of saying yes, “Well, I can’t just let you freeze. Follow me.” With his words, he stood back up and began continuing to walk home. You happily followed behind, having to walk a bit fast to keep up with his big steps. Shoto looked back every few seconds to make sure that you were still following him.

Finally, you made it to his home. He opened the door and allowed you inside, following behind and then closing the door. You took note of how nice Shoto’s house was, as he led you to his bedroom, and let you in. Immediately, you jumped up on the bed and curled up. But you were still hungry.

You let out a meow, and Shoto looked at you.

“What?” He questioned, and you looked around the room, and spotted a trash can. You went over and put your paws up on the edge to look in. Shoto grew even more confused, “What are you do-hey!” You knocked the trash can over and grabbed a food wrapper, setting it on the floor.

“Are you hungry?” Shoto asked, and you meowed, “Well you could of said that instead of knocking the trash can over.” You glared at him, as he exited the room. Soon he returned with a plastic container with something in it. He sat it down in front of you. He then spoke again, “We didn’t have any cat food, and all we had were soba noodles. Um, I don’t know if they’re poisonous to cats or not, so you probably shouldn’t eat too many.” He was speaking as if a cat could understand anything he was saying. But since it was you, you did understand and didn’t eat too many.

You watched as Shoto grabbed his bag, and pulled out a textbook, along with some papers. You abandoned your spot on the floor, and jumped up into his lap as he sat at his desk.

“What are you...” he trailed off, watching as you curled up on his lap, and purred, laying your head down and closed your eyes. Shoto let himself smile softly and he brought a hand down to rub your fur. You purred even louder at the action, and relaxed into his touch. After you had fallen asleep, Shoto took his hand away and went back to his homework.

After he was done, he closed the text book and looked down at you, who was still sleeping on his lap. He didn’t have school tomorrow, so it was okay that he stayed up pretty late working on homework. He scooped you up, disturbing your sleep. You let out a protest meow, and he shushed you.

“Shh, I’m just going to bed,” he said, setting you down on the bed. You continued to lay down but lifted your head up and watched him as he got ready for bed. When he went to get changed though, you looked away, since he thought you were a cat, and didn’t know you were actually a human girl.

You would be lying if you tried saying that you didn’t have a crush on Todoroki. It was nothing major, but you definitely liked him and wouldn’t mind dating him. Of course, you never acted on these feelings, since Shoto didn’t seem like he was interested in dating anybody at the moment. He finished changing, and brushed his teeth, before shutting out the light and crawling into bed. He laid on his back and you curled up on his chest, your face facing him.

Shoto smiled at you and gave you one last goodnight scratch behind your ear, before taking his hand away and laying it beside him.

“Goodnight kitty,” he said, and you gave a meow in reply. Shoto gave you one last small smile, that you loved seeing, since he didn’t smile much, before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. You knew that chances were that you would turn back at the same time you turned, so you kept an eye on the clock when you awoke various times in the night.

The next morning, you got up and made sure Shoto was still asleep, and you were correct, at around the same time you turned, you turned back. You made sure Shoto was asleep, before taking a pen and writing a note on a piece of paper.

Shoto,

This is awkward, but I was the cat that you let stay with you last night. I got hit with a cat quirk, and no, I will not be telling you who I am, I don’t want things to be awkward between us. Anyway thanks for the soba, and the bed to sleep in.

P.S. you should smile more, it’s cute

With that, you quietly slipped out of the room and luckily didn’t run into anybody as you made it back outside, and into the real world. The first thing you did was go back home, and see where your little cousin was and what happened.

It had been a few weeks since the cat stayed with Shoto and he got the note. He did have to admit, he felt a little awkward about the whole situation, since he cuddled with the cat and the cat was there when he got dressed, but he got over it.

And since then, he’d been trying to figure out who the cat was. He was having no luck until he caught a glimpse of your paper in class. You and Momo were discussing test scores, and you had sat the paper down on Momo’s desk. Shoto curiously looked over, and found that you had the same handwriting that whoever the cat was did.

Then he looked at your appearance, you had the same color hair that the cat’s fur was, and the same color eyes. You also knew Shoto’s name, and went to school with him, so it would be awkward if you told him.

“It was you,” Shoto spoke, causing you and Momo to look at him.

“What?” You questioned.

“The cat, it was you,” Shoto said, causing your face to go red.

“What are you two talking about?” Momo asked, looking between you two.

“A few weeks ago, I found a cat and took it in. The next morning I woke up to a note, saying that the cat was just a person hit with a cat quirk, I had no clue who it was, until I saw L/n’s handwriting,” Shoto explained the situation.

“Shoot, um, yeah, sorry about that, my little cousin got her quirk for the first time and it just sort of happened,” you explained, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck.

“I see,” Shoto replied, as Momo went over to talk to someone else, leaving the two of you to yourself.

“Look, I-”

“Go on a date with me,” Shoto said, causing your face to get even redder.

“What?” You asked.

“Go on a date with me,” Shoto repeated, “Did you like the soba? We could go get soba together.”

“I mean, yeah the soba was good. But you wanna go on a date with me?” You questioned.

“Sure, I think we’ll get along pretty well,” Shoto said, giving you a small smile, “You can see more of my smiles that you think are, what word did you use? Cute?”

“Um, yeah,” you replied, “Sure, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“Excellent,” Shoto replied.

#shoto todoroki #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto x reader

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angstymarauder · 3 years

Text

Arch Enemies {M.M}

Marlene McKinnon x Female!reader ; marauders era

summary: where two long-time rivals realize how thin the line between love and hate really are after an unfortunate quidditch incident.

word count: 3.4k ish

contains: angst, fluff, a heated kiss?, side of wolfstar,

a/n: i didn’t re-read it bc I'm lazy. Also if people could drop some wlw angsty harry potter recs that would be phenomenal.

· · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · · · · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene McKinnon has been your rival since as far back in your Hogwarts years as you can remember. Always at each other’s heads. Always a competition between the two of you. Always striving to be better than the other.

The two of you made just about everything a competition. Chess Matches. Pranking. Grades. Eating. Walking. Detentions (you almost got kicked out of Hogwarts that year.)

Anything that could somehow be made competitive, you two competed. And while you tended to beat her with grades, she often beat you in things that took place outside of the classroom.

The Marauders, apparently, have been placing bets and keeping track of your wins against one another. Lily even claims that one time she walked into their room unexpectedly and caught them writing on a poster on their wall that had both your names in big letters on each side and a series of tallies below each with dates and event names on the bottom, but as soon as they saw her one of them casted a spell to make it disappear.

This year was no different. You knew it was stupid to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to try out for the quidditch team without Marlene fighting you for the same spot. You have no real desire to be on the quidditch team, quite honestly, but your older siblings play quidditch, your parents played quidditch, your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, your grandparents, your great-grandparents.

You have a quidditch family and you do not want to can not disappoint them.

The hope that Marlene may leave you alone for this one was shattered, as you expected it to be, when you walk into the team's locker room, a bag of quidditch gear in your hand. “Y/L” Marlene spoke as soon as her eyes met yours. Her eyes widened more than usual, a change most people don’t notice, but then again, you’re not most people. You know Marlene better than anyone else, you’ve memorized the meaning of every look in her eyes, every curve of her lips, every flick of her hands. You know her brain, how she works, what she is thinking, for the most part at least because right now you found yourself momentarily confused by the surprise lacing her voice. Why is she so surprised? Did she not expect you to be there? Your thoughts are cut short when the blonde standing at the other side of the room clears her throat in an attempt to reactive her favorite tone of voice when speaking to you, cockiness, “you going for the beater position too?”

“Yea,” you respond, walking over to one of the lockers.

“May the best player win,” you continued unpacking your bag, putting on the final touches to your uniform, but you didn’t need to look at her to know that she was smirking as she spoke, you could hear it clear enough in her voice.

She awaited a snarky response from you, you know that, but you didn’t want to waste your energy on a catfight right now. Your anxiety is already through the roof, there is enough pressure on you at the moment that you feel like your brain physically cannot handle any more conflict, so you ignore her.

Her eyes burn holes into your body as you continue to pull your knee pads on. Eventually, the door opens and you listen to her steps as she walks out of the locker room, closing the door with a slam and leaving you all alone.

It’s not long before you’re 100% ready for tryouts. You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment before leaving. Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm your nerves. Calm your mind. It helps a little bit, but maybe not enough.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“Y/L! Watch out!” is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

The tryouts were going great, James was the captain this year and after stealing a glance at his little sheet, you could tell that you were going to beat Marlene out for this spot.

You should’ve been happier with that knowledge than you were, but somewhere deep down you almost wanted Marlene to beat you. This wasn't what you wanted and by the look in her eyes, you knew that this was what she wanted. A strange feeling arose in your chest each time she looked at you during tryouts, her eyes conveyed a message you hadn’t seen her wear yet and all you wanted to do was decode it. To understand why her eyes looked… sad? Almost. Like she knew you were going to beat her and she was upset about it. She’s never been upset before, always a team player. She took her losses as they came and just vowed to beat you next time. But for some reason… for some reason this was different.

· · · ∞ · · ·

Marlene’s Pov:

You looked so pretty. Flyaway hairs and a look of determination on your face as you swatted away Bludgers so effortlessly. She loved quidditch, but she wasn't as good as you. Jealous, not because you’ll win whatever competition the two of you are probably making out of this, but jealous because she knows she won’t get the position she’s been working her ass off for. Lost in thought she doesn't even notice the bludger coming towards her, luckily she hits it just in time, but then… Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Marlene watched as the bludger tumbled straight towards you, “Y/L! Watch out,” was all she could get in before it hit you right in the head.

· · · ∞ · · ·

The first thing you felt when you woke up was an intense pounding in your skill that caused an unconscious groan to leave your mouth. As you increasingly became aware your head began hurting more and more. You went to bring your hand up to rub your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up when you felt another hand on yours. Opening your eyes only increased your headache, but the desire to know whose hand was holding yours overruled the pain. Their hand was soft, warm, it felt like … like home. That's the only word you could find in this pain-forsaken state to properly describe the feeling.

The blur of a person who held your hand made you think you were crazy. You found yourself blinking a few times in attempts to clear your vision, not initially trusting your eyes and barely trusting them now as you see Marlene McKinnon's hand, holding yours.

Marlene McKinnon.

Your arch-nemesis?

The one who practically hates you?

Yea… her.

What the fuck.

Why is she holding your hand… and why do you never want her to let go?

You can feel your lips curve up into an unconscious smile as you stare at the place where her hand connects with yours before roaming your eyes up to her figure to her sleeping face being held up by her other hand, elbow resting on her armchair next to your bed. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and you wonder why you’ve never noticed how gorgeous she was before. How her lips look so soft and her skin so smooth. The way the waning gibbous moonlight shines into the room from the large infirmary windows and lights her face up in a way you’ve never seen in before and in that moment you want nothing more than to stare at her face like that forever. You don’t even notice your other hand moving up to touch her face until you hear a voice whisper from a few beds over from yours. “Oh, you’re up.” Startled, you feel like you were just caught committing a crime and immediately pull your hand back to where it was before. Marlene shifts in her sleep from your quick movements and you’re watching this moment slip through your fingers, silently begging whatever runs the universe to let you stay in this moment just a little bit longer. Thankfully, they answer and Marlene stills, returning to her peaceful sleep. “Don’t worry, Lils says she sleeps like a log.”

You giggle at these words, turning to face Remus with a smile, “yea, she does. We can never get her up in the morning.” “It’s the same with Sirius. He never wants to wake up.” The two of you giggle quietly, afraid to wake up anyone in the castle this late at night, especially the girl sitting beside you. You talk about Remus first, asking if the full moon the night before was really that bad that Pomfrey made him stay overnight again and if he's okay. He assures you that he is fine and redirects the conversation to you, “What about you? Are you okay?”

“I don’t even know what happened to me,” you tell him, “or why my head hurts so much or why M-” you pause, now looking at the girl. You’re scared of speaking the words out loud, afraid it may reveal that her presence is only a dream or a figment of your imagination and that you will sound crazy if you speak about it.

“Or why Marlene is here, holding your hand.” Remus finishes your sentence.

“Or that.” you turn your gaze back to Remus, now wishing the moon was a little darker so your close friend can’t see the blush that is surely on your face.

“Well to answer your first questions,” started Remus, “You got hit with a bludger during tryouts, Marlene and Sirius rushed u in here while I was taking a nap - thanks for that by the way”

“Sorry” you giggled

“- and then Sirius went back to practice, as for McKinnon there, she refused to leave. I think she feels bad cause she's the one that hit you. Pomfrey said you probably have a concussion which means you can’t … well you can’t play quidditch this year.” You should be focusing on the quidditch part, it was something you were working so hard for, but you can’t stop your mind from trailing off to her. Is she only here because she feels bad? Or is there more to it? You hope it's more. You’re not sure when these feelings came to fruition, but they’re there now and you’re worried about getting your hopes up because it means risking yourself getting let down.

“I think she likes you,” you take a minute to process the werewolves' words, glancing between the blonde’s head and her hand.

“You think so?” you say with a hopeful smile.

“I think she’s liked you since first year and you’re just too oblivious to realize it,” you look up with him, your confused face causing a slight chuckle to leave his lips, “I’m observant, you know that but it's not that difficult to see how in love you two are, even though you act like you hate each other. I think she knows what she feels,” you both glanced at the girl, “and I think you just figured out what you feel.”

You smile at his words. “I think you’re right,” you admit, too tired to be stubborn and reject what your heart says is a fact.

“Just wait till January to tell everyone please, I have a bet going with the boys and- “ Suddenly the door to the infirmary opens, Remus goes quiet with confusion and Marlen begins to stir from the noise. She’s really waking up this time, you immediately close your eyes, unsure of what else to do or even say to her. You can feel her eyes on your face, her hand holding yours. “Good morning sleepyhead,” remarked Remus. You curse out his name in your head as you feel Marlene’s hand immediately rip out of yours. All you want to do is look at her face, read her mind. Was she embarrassed? Ashamed? Your mind went to the worst.

“How’s the girlfriend?” marked a new voice, Sirius. Of course. Who else would come to the infirmary this late other than Sirius to check up on Remus?

“She’s not my girlfriend.” remarked Marlene, her tone sending a brief stab of pain through your own heart, “I don’t even like her,” another stab.

“Yea, okay, and Moonys not my werewolf boyfriend.” You would’ve laughed, hearing the noises of Remus hitting Sirius in response to his words, but your mind was stuck on the words of the girl who was still standing close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off her body.

“I don’t like her,” she said, her words laced with annoyance and anger, “In fact, I hate her. We’re literally enemies.”

“Then why are you here then?” Remus rebutted, he probably meant to be helpful, but the words she spoke next only made your heart ache more.

“Because I’m not a monster! I hit her with the bludger and I felt bad. That’s it. Nothing else.” you were almost thankful when you started to hear her moving around, collecting her stuff, tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes and you didn’t want her to see. “I’m tired so I’m going, goodbye.” And with that you waited, listening to the sounds of her footsteps, getting quieter with each moment. You listened to the opening and closing of the infirmary door and only dared to open your eyes again once you could no longer hear the clicking of her shoes down the hallway.

“You okay?” Remus spoke first, witnessing the silent tears now streaming down your face. You wish you stayed asleep. You wish you never looked at her. Never let yourself feel something you knew she wouldn’t reciprocate. You curse yourself for believing Remus’ hopeful words.

“Fine,” you spoke quietly before turning to your side, the back facing the two boys who get to share the kind of romance you find yourself only able to dream about.

“M’Sorry,” you heard Remus whisper, before the weight of your head and your heart lulled you into a dreamless sleep.

· · · ∞ · · ·

You woke up to Madam Pomfrey's voice urging you awake. Her soft voice reminded you of your mother and made you want to curl up into her arms and cry, Marlene's words last night still resting their weight on your chest. “How are you this morning, love?” she asks, placing a plate of food on the bedside table, you're thankful that she doesn't mention the tear stains that probably made their home on your cheeks last night.

“M’fine,” you mumble, “better.”

“Good, good,” she smiles, handing you a glass of water that you didn’t realize how much you needed until the whole glass was gone in a minute and Madam Pomfrey had to fetch you a new one. “Took a big hit yesterday, that Miss McKinnon has a good arm.” You hum in agreeance, an attempt to not be rude to the elder in front of you, but hearing her name still hurts, the wound of her words still leaving scars on your heart that haven’t even begun to scab. “Speaking of the devil,” the nurse spoke, your head raising up to see Marlene's figure entering the curtain that surrounded your bed. Her hair looked so soft, messier than you usually see it, but you liked it. You couldn’t stop your eyes from travelling down her face, taking in her beauty while she was awake. Bags plagued her beautiful brown eyes, she didn't sleep much last night. Your gaze moved to her lips, the same lips that unknowingly cut scars along your heart mere hours ago. Memories from the night before that you had allowed yourself to forget for a moment returned as fast as they left, returning the heartache that accompanies them. Suddenly, you found the hem of your shirt more interesting, keeping your gaze and your hands on that. “I’ll leave you two alone,” spoke Madam Pomfrey, ignoring the tension-filled silence that laid in the air, “I’d like to keep you here for a little while longer but you should be discharged by dinner,” and with that she left the two of you alone, your breaking heart not even strong enough to look at her.

“Hey,” she spoke first, breaking the silence, but not moving from her spot where she stood at the end of your bed. “Sorry I hit you with a bludger,” she tried to joke, but the tension was too thick that it was just awkward.

“Why are you here?” you ask, a sudden surge of bravery coming from the anger that stems from your sadness.

“Wh-What?”

“Why are you here?” “Because I feel bad? Because I'm not a total bitch and I care about you?” she remarks.

“Why do you care?” your voice grows louder, angrier than you want it, but you’re too stubborn to stop speaking now. “I can’t play anymore, you got the spot on the team, didn’t you? “I mean you said it yourself we’re enemies, right? You hate me?” you continue, repeating her words from last night. “So isn’t this what you wanted? You won. You beat me. Congratulations.”

“So you were eavesdropping?” she asks, her tone attempting to stay angry, but her eyes revealing that look you’re slowly seeing more and more often.

“It’s not eavesdropping if I’m lying right there.”

“Merlin, y/n, I don’t hate you!”

“Liar.”

“You’re so stubborn,” she yells, getting closer to your face.

“If you don’t hate me then why would you say it?” You sat up, both your voices were raising, anger surging through the air.

“Because I don’t hate you! I love you,” she yelled, and then everything went quiet. She loves me? Only now did you realize how close your faces were. Her lips were inches from yours, your ragged breaths intermingled with one another, both of you already exhausted from your previous argument. You looked up from her lips to her eyes, just to find them already staring into yours.

“You what?” you whispered so low that only she could hear it.

“ I-” her eyes were filled with fear. Fear that her feelings won’t be reciprocated. Fear to express the vulnerable emotion that has plagued her heart for how long? You don’t know. So you move forward and capture her lips in yours.

After the initial surprise, Marlene began to kiss you back, her hands finding the back of your neck and your head while yours found her hips. You broke apart too soon for your liking and she rested her forehead on yours. One of your hands moved to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear before speaking. “I love you too.” You watched as her eyes lit up with joy and you couldn’t help but smile. “I get a point on the leaderboard for admitting it first,” she chuckled.

“Mmhm,” you hummed in agreeance leaning forward again so your lips brushed against hers as you spoke, “but I get one for kissing you first.”

“Dammit,” she whispered, before leaning in for another kiss.

· · · ∞ · · ·

“So Gryffindor Beater, huh?” you asked Marlene. The two of you laid together in the infirmary bed, her back pressed up against half of your chest, your arm hanging around her shoulder twirling and untwirling her hair with your one hand while both her hands played with the fingers of your other.

“Yea, James said it’s mine if I want it, but I don’t need to take it if you don’t want me to.”

“No, merlin no,” you said quickly, “I know how much you want that spot, I barely even wanted it. Was only doing it because with my family I felt like I had to.”

“Really?” She looked up at you hopefully, “you don't mind.”

“Nope.” “Promise?”

“Promise.” She gave her a peck on the lips before turning her head around again. “Plus, you’re going to look so hot in that uniform, I feel like I’ll be the real winner in this situation.” Your words earn a loud laugh from the girl in your arms and you feel like you're on cloud 9. You place a quick kiss on her temple and want nothing more than to be the one to make her laugh for the rest of your lives. Lives that you hopefully get to spend together.

Meanwhile…

“Told you so,” he whispered.

“I should��ve kept my mouth shut,” the second boy groaned, placing coins into the other boy's outstretched hand.

“Yea, but look how cute they are, Moony the Matchmaker.”

“Oh shut up Padfoot,” he groaned, “I’m hungry, let's go to dinner.” “Whatever you say handsome,” barked the boy before looping arms with his lover and walking away from the two girls in the infirmary who looked utterly and completely infatuated with one another.

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hoffmannwrites · 3 years

Text

You Better You Bet

Previous - PART TEN - Next - Masterlist

Author’s Note: I’m garbage. You know what it is. Also, editing this in the bathtub by candlelight, drinking wine and listening to a twilight playlist. Very on brand for me I think.

Pairing: Riverdale, FP Jones, and 19-Year-Old Reader

Description: A bet with Jughead leads to so much more than winning.

Warning: Language, Adult themes, Age Gap, Forbidden love bullshit, brief mention of female masturbation, bi!FP and top!FP if you squint, fluff in a sarcastic way, getting caught red handed

Song Inspiration: illicit affairs - Taylor Swift

The word felt weird on your tongue. Girlfriend. It felt even weirder calling him your boyfriend. You didn’t use them in front of other people, not yet. It all still felt so delicate. You had admitted to Betty and Veronica that you were seeing FP, but didn’t divulge that it was exclusive or serious yet. You were also quite aware that Jughead was not as oblivious as he pretended to be, but neither of you dared bring it up to the other.

As days slipped into weeks, you got more comfortable with the words. Eventually, you had slipped into a routine with FP. You’d see each other a few times a week, either at his trailer or the Wyrm or occasionally the overlook. Usually, you’d sleepover and either drive yourself home or to school in the morning. It was comfortable, almost domestic, how easily you wrapped your lives around each other. He bought more food (you preferred that he let you cook, but he at least owned spices and herbs now); the trailer stayed cleaner and brighter with fewer empty beer cans littered around. You were brighter, too. You had always felt like a person out of their time- too old to still be in high school by most standards, the oldest kid in your family with no siblings or cousins to keep you company, forced to grow up too fast, but too young to be considered an adult in all the ways that mattered. Nothing that was supposed to feel right ever did. So it made sense that the first thing to ever feel right was a man that was supposed to be wrong. It worked, though. Somehow, it worked.

Easily your favorite part of your newfound relationship was sleeping next to FP. Falling asleep to the sound of his even heartbeat and low breath had become soothing in a way you would have never imagined. Waking up to his messy hair and gruff voice might have been even better. On the nights you couldn’t spend with him, you tossed and turned violently for hours-unable to find the comfort of sleep without being wrapped up in your man’s arms. Unfortunately, this was one of those nights. No amount of pillow flips, weighted blankets, or calming audios would put you to bed like FP could. You picked up your phone to text him- but the bright white numbers reading “3:30” made you decide against it; it was much too late to bother him. Instead, you decided to tire yourself out in the only way you knew how: with your hand slipped into your sweatpants lazily working yourself up until maybe-just maybe an orgasm would tire you out enough to put you out. But apparently, sleep wasn’t the only thing FP has ruined for you. Why were you sitting here touching yourself in vain when you could be getting railed by your boyfriend? Unfair. Ridiculous. You would just have to spend the rest of the night tossing until maybe sleep took you.

The next day was frustrating, to say the least. Working on barely two and a half hours of sleep, school was painful to get through. The only thing keeping you from going home to sleep was knowing that you were headed to FP’s trailer as soon as the end-of-day bell rang. You spent most of your day tapping your foot impatiently and chewing on your pen cap with heavy-lidded eyes, praying that somehow the clock would speed up. Somehow, you slugged through your day and eventually heaved your limp body into your car. By the time you had realized you had forgotten to turn on your radio, you were already halfway to FP’s trailer.

Once you finally arrived, you wasted no time on the usual once-over of yourself in your rearview mirror. You walked right into the trailer without even bothering to knock, took one glance at FP sitting on his sofa, and collapsed directly on top of him, head snugly in his lap. He chuckled as he ran his fingers through your hair and brushed it out of your face, which turned to look at him. “Long day, huh, baby girl?”

“You have ruined my life, Forsythe,” you informed him in a low monotone.

“Naw, don’t say that, baby. What happened?” He was actually concerned which made you feel a slight pang of guilt. Maybe you shouldn’t have started with that. Oops.

You sat up and took off your coat which you hadn’t originally bothered to peel off. “I can’t sleep…” you muttered softly.

“How exactly is that my fault?”

“You’re too comfy!”, you whined at him dramatically. “How am I supposed to get any sleep in a cold empty bed, when I’m used to passing out on your stupid warm, soft chest?”

He looked at you with stars in his eyes as a smile grew on his face. “You’re mad at me because I’m too good of a cuddler?”

“Precisely!”

“Jesus fucking…” he muttered as he got up from the couch and took your hands, leading you up with him. “C’mere…”

You followed him gratefully into the bedroom and sat down on the corner of the bed, slowly inching up towards the pillows to crawl under the covers.

“You’re gonna sleep in jeans?” he asked for with a quark of his brow.

“Sorry I didn't put PJs in my backpack today,” you replied snarkily, ready to just sleep.

“That hasn’t stopped you before,” he threw a large flannel over at you. “Get comfy, kiddo.”

You started to strip down to just your panties, “I hate when you call me that.”

He shot you a questioning glace, prodding you to explain. “It makes this weirder than it already is.”

“Wasn’t aware that it was weird.” It was his turn to strip down now, just to his teeshirt and boxers.

You lifted up the covers and set underneath them trying to get comfortable at once. “I mean it’s not weird but I just don’t need to be reminded that you’re over twice my age, thank you very much.”

He followed you into bed and pulled you close, hiking your leg up as far as it could go. “Shush. You’re just mad that I was backstage with Motley Crue while you weren’t even born.” He kissed your forehead with a smile. “Now sleep, little girl.”

Sleep started to take over your body but you’d be damned if you didn’t get the last word in. “I still can’t believe Tommy Lee bottomed for you.”

As your eyes closed and you faded into sweet oblivion, you could hear FP faintly whisper “I never should have told you that.”

—————————————————————-

You woke up with a startle to what sounded like the trailer door opening. FP was still next to you, also starting to wake and looking just as confused.

Your first thought was that this was going to end bloody. Some ghost from FP’s past or some new Riverdale Psycho was gonna come to turn your cozy little life upside down in mere seconds. What ended up being reality was quite possibly way worse.

“Dad?” Jughead’s voice rang loud and clear through the trailer. You and FP looked at each other with wide eyes, panicked, to say the least.

“Go!” you whispered to him, hitting him out of bed frantically as you began to look for your pants at least.

He scrambled out of bed and the small bedroom slamming the door shut behind him as he came into view of his son. It was close too; one more corner and Jughead would have found you.

It wasn’t so much that you didn’t want Jughead to know. it was just easier. You had no idea how you would begin to explain how this bet had blossomed into so much more. When the time finally came, you definitely wanted it to be on your own terms and not caught half-naked in bed on a Tuesday afternoon.

You could barely hear the conversation between the father and son, too focused on your own thoughts of what you would say if Jughead for some reason needed to come into the bedroom. From what you gathered, Jug needed help fixing up a motorcycle he picked up and wanted to see if his dad was up for the task. All you could think about was how that could have been a phone call, a text even. But no, he just had to come all the way here to ask this 5-second question. FP was quick to agree to help him and set up a time later this week for him to come over with the bike to work on it. He made up some excuse about having a long day and being exhausted, ushering Jughead out the door just as quickly as he burst in. once he was sure Jug was gone and not coming back, he walked back into the bedroom and ran his hands through his hair. God, he looked sexy when he was stressed.

“Well that was close,” you said simply

#fp jones x reader #fp jones fluff #fp jones smut #fp jones #bi!fp #top!fp #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale smut #wip #rattwrites

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peakywitch · 4 years

Text

Little Hands - Michael Gray

PART ONE

MASTERLIST

WORD COUNT: 2K

warnings: none (i think this one has angst?)

gif: @oberelias

A knock on the bar door caught Harry's attention. He immediately knew who it was. He opened the door, seeing the young woman from a half hour ago.

"Y/N?" he asked, not understanding anything. A girl of about 17 years, crying at the door of the Garrison. Harry thought he would never see such a thing.

"Sorry Harry, I had nowhere to go..." she sobbed; Harry invited her in and poured her a glass of water as she sat down at the bar.

“Are you better?" he asked her, after a few minutes.

The girl had been staring at the glass of water since Harry had offered it to her. The silent tears kept falling from her eyes. What will I do now? She would go home alone. She would forget about being a teacher and would have to dedicate herself to whatever she could, so her son would have something to eat.

Her son.

Y/N still didn't get it. She was seventeen, a minor, and her ex-boyfriend had just left her. She could not abort, she had found out too late.

"What the fuck am I going to do..." she whispered, asking Harry.

"You in trouble?" he asked, worried that she was hurt.

"Yes, in a giant problem." She replied, drinking more water.

“I think whatever it is, you can work it out. If you have people who want you by your side, you'll be fine." He said, as he rearranged the liquor bottles.

“The person I love doesn't want to be with me, Harry. He said horrible things to me and I…”The poor girl bursted into tears, Harry felt so out of place.

The man, not knowing what to do, approached the small kitchen that was at the back of the bar and took out some pieces of brownie that were carefully protected. When he returned to her side, he opened the noisy bag, filling the Garrison with a strong chocolate smell.

"You know?" he asked “My mother was a baker, and she made the best cakes in town. She made these brownies when I was sad or had a broken heart." He smiled wistfully; Y/N's red eyes focused on him “Last night, I felt a heavy sadness. And all I could think of was brownies." He placed the two brown squares on a gray plate. "I firmly believe, these brownies will heal you a bit." He held out the plate to the crying girl, she tried to grab one "Wait, not yet."

He reached under the bar, pulling out a glass bottle of milk: “There is a kitten that had a baby, and in the morning when I am leaving, I serve her some on a plate outside. But a broken heart deserves a sip to accompany brownies. "

She poured the milk into a pint, and told her she could eat now.

Between brownies, laughter, and some milk, she was able to stop crying and laughed at some stories Harry was telling her.

When night fell, Y/N stayed in one of the rooms upstairs. Harry had offered it to her for free, as Y/N had been very good company while he set up the pub for that Friday night. However, she insisted that she would return the favor by cleaning up on Saturday morning with him. Also, she wanted to see the kitten and her baby.

Ten o'clock at night showed up on the clock, telling Y/N that in two hours this hellish day would end. She was lying with her dress still on. The poor deluded woman had thought she would return home with… Michael. The more she thought about the subject, the more her heart ached.

“I won’t be with you, get rid of him. It would be easier. "

It was final: she would be a single mother.

Michael entered the pub at ten o'clock, tired, nervous, angry, sad, helpless, and heartbroken. He was disappointed in who he was. He had been infuriated by the fact that this new person that he was, had hurt Y/N. Michael could be called Henry, Benjamin, Patrick, or Mirtha. It didn't matter his name, he loved Y/N. So when he walked into the private booth at the Garrison alone, Tommy knew why. How was he going to find her, if she was as far as she was near?

"I thought I told you not to come back if it wasn't with her, Michael." said his cousin.

Gray sat down dejectedly in one of the chairs. He snorted and poured himself a whiskey.

“Looked everywhere. Shit, I even walked into that disgusting station with idiot Campbell. I looked in every square, on the outskirts, I asked in each hostel: nothing. I know her, she got on the train hours ago and she must be in her bed crying." His gaze was so lost on the beer bucket on the table, that he did not notice the knowing looks of his cousins.

“Tom,” said Arthur “go on. Tell ‘im. Look at ‘im.”

John slipped a chuckle.

"Tell me what?" Michael asked, looking at Thomas. "Tommy, if you know something, please tell me ..."

"Michael," tommy cleared his throat, "you well know that nothing happens here without me knowing."

"Here? Small Heath? As I said, I don't think…” the Shelby interrupted his cousin.

“No, here like the Garrison. And I think you forgot that if you go upstairs, you will find a lodging that I mount..."

Michael didn't let him finish, cutting him off as he stood up abruptly.

"You knew all this damn time where she was!?" he roared.

"I have known for a few hours." he answered calmly, after drinking more Scotch.

Before Michael could say anything, Tommy spoke again: "Third door to your right."

And just like that, Michael came out of the booth like a bullet. He crossed the bar quickly, no matter who he shoved in his way. The stairs were climbed even faster, leaving him in a matter of seconds in front of Y/N's door.

He breathed. He realized how nervous Y/N must have been. He knocked on the door with a simple double knock.

Both knocks woke her up, bringing her back into the world. She stopped and approached the door carefully. Meanwhile, Michael was dying of nerves.

"Who is it?" Y/N asked.

"Me." Michael said.

"Who is Me?" she ask.

Y/N recognized that voice, of course she did. But she didn't know who the person with the voice was. She felt totally alien to this Michael Gray. Henry would never, ever have yelled at her.

"Y/N... lovey, please..." he begged.

"Do not call me that way. You don't feel that about me. Neither do I, I don't know you. "

Y/N was being too harsh for her liking, but Michael knew perfectly well that he deserved never to see her again.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you. Please…”he asked, he was about to cry.

"No. Goodbye." She sentenced.

Michael sighed in frustration. He sat in the doorway; he would sleep on the floor if necessary.

Now what can I do? If he opened the door, it would bother her even more. But if he left her alone, he would lose her forever.

"Y/N..." began the boy, and waited for an answer, nothing.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" he asked again.

Silence.

"Well, here goes nothing." He sighed.

“Hello Y/N, my name is Michael Gray. I was born in 1903, and when I was four years old my father passed away. I was taken away from my mother, Polly, when I was five. I had a sister, they also separated us. The government changed my name to Henry. I was in an orphanage for about three years, until the Johnson, a very nice couple, adopted me. I grew up in the suburbs in a beautiful house with an apple tree in the garden. I met my first friend, she had your name, you know? "

Y/N was sitting on the other side of the door, listening to her favorite person speak. When she hear herself in the story, she smiled through tears.

“When she asked me to play family, I always pretended to propose to her. I never knew why. After a while I realized: the girls did not have germs. Then she started to seem like the prettiest girl, then the most beautiful young woman. I was in love with her for several years, I realized late. But one day..." Michael smiled wistfully" One day I plucked up the courage... a year ago and something, maybe. And I told her everything that happened to me with her. She kissed me and we started dating. She would come to my house after school. We would eat apples from the tree and study a little. And then we’d kiss a lot in the neighbor's barn at night. "

Y / N gave a little laugh, and that triggered Michael's pulse.

“Then I reconnected with my family, with the Shelbys. And I was so mad at the Johnsons for keeping my true story from me… they had told me, they’d abandoned me. When Tommy told me the truth, I was blinded by the pain of the lie and the thrill of finding my family. I did not realize that by meeting my old family, I would be abandoning one that was beginning to grow, you know?" They both wiped away tears.

“So, my girlfriend, she came to my homwtown angry, alone and pregnant. She was super, super angry and sad. And she told me everything, and I never felt worse. For having abandoned her, for seeing her cry about it and for abandoning her again when she told me she was pregnant. So..." he sighed "I am this, a simple stranger, who tells the story of his life, to the love of his life. Hoping that she forgives him. Because, you know, I know she knows I'm a bloody idiot. I mean, when we kissed for the first time, I accidentally bit her lip and left a small scar. "

They both laughed, listening to each other and wiping their tears.

“So…yeah. If you ever see her, tell her that for me, I know she doesn’t want to see me.” Michael said, with remarkable sadness.

Y/N wiped away her tears and gently pulled her hair. She stand up and knocked on the door three times. She then heard Michael stand up quickly.

"Who is this?" Michael asked.

"My name is Y/N, can I come into your life... again?" she asked, crying.

Michael's heart began to skip multiple beats and his smile spread across his face. He opened the door and saw his girlfriend standing, tired and crying. When their eyes connected, both bodies exploded into a loving embrace. They were both crying, they missed each other.

"I’m so sorry Y / N, so, so, so, sorry..." he stroked her hair.

"I love you, Michael Gray. But the next time you leave without saying goodbye, I will kill you with my bare hands. "

"Your hands are little, lovey, you can’t." She laughed, while Michael was filling her face with kisses.

"So, wait to see what a woman with little hands does to you at three in the morning when you don't want to take care of your baby."

Michael stopped the kisses and looked into her eyes.

"For a moment I had forgotten." Laughed Michael.

"Oh my God." Y/N joined in on her boyfriend's laughter.

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fuckallthegood0nesweretaken · 3 years

Text

Runs in the Family CH. Three

Book: Prisoner

Title: Chocolate and Flying Aunts

Words: 1950

Warnings: Slight language, mention of drunk driving

A/N: Sorry this was late! I was having some trouble finding my word document. Hope y’all enjoy!

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RitF Masterlist

Harry Potter Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

It was a semi-peaceful summer up until Aunt Marge came to visit for two weeks. The moment she got there, she was all over you and Dudley and very mean to Harry. You tried to stay away from her and to study for your next year at school, but since she couldn’t find out that you were a witch, you had to do that at night. She wouldn’t let you anywhere with Harry so that was out of the question too.

You had just about had enough of her and her dogs for a lifetime and was happy that her visit was almost over. It was at dinner when Aunt Marge went too far. You were sitting in between your mom and brother, Marge in front of you. She was making comments about Harry and his parents and when she called James a drunk and other nasty things, you frowned.

“Aunt Marge, please stop,” you said. “That’s not true.”

“Of course it’s true. That’s how they died, isn’t it? The bastard was driving while drunk!”

That made you angry and you clenched your teeth together. Right as you did that, the glass Marge was holding exploded. Your mom let out a small scream and your eyes were wide.

“I have a firm grip, Petunia. A very firm grip, so don’t fuss,” Marge said. She started to wipe up the mess and you exchanged a look with Harry.

Aunt Marge told Harry to clean up and while he was doing that, she started talking about Lily.

“It actually has nothing to do with the father, it’s always the mother. You see it all the time with dogs. If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’s something wrong with the pup.”

“Aunt Marge!” You said. She went to say something but Harry interrupted her.

“Shut up!” Harry yelled. Aunt Marge only smirked and held her finger up.

“Let me tell you—“

That was when she saw her finger starting to swell. Everything happened so fast after that. Aunt Marge kept expanding, her clothes ripping and buttons popping. When Vernon tried to get up and help Marge, Ripper started biting his ankles. That was when Marge started floating. She bounced off the ceiling and you went to stand by Harry.

“Well, isn’t this a sight?” You muttered. Your parents were panicking and it took everything in you and Harry to not laugh.

“They’re going to expel me,” Harry said.

“Then they’re going to expel me too.” Harry looked at you and you shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that the glass exploding was me, not you. But it was definitely you who blew up Aunt Marge.”

“I’m leaving, come with me?” Harry said.

“We shouldn’t leave, Harry,” you said.

“I don’t know what Vernon is going to do. I’ll take the blame for all of it.” With that, Harry raced up the stairs and you could hear him throwing everything in his trunk before coming back downstairs. That’s when he came face to face with Vernon.

“You bring her back! Bring her back and put her right. Now!” Vernon screamed.

“No. She deserved what she got,” Harry said. Vernon went to strangle Harry and your eyes widened.

“Keep away from me,” Harry said, holding out his wand.

“You can’t do magic outside of school.” Vernon’s voice was shaky.

“Yeah? Try me.”

With that, Harry left and your dad turned to you.

“You didn’t do anything to stop him. Why?”

“What?” You said, confused.

“Why didn’t you stop him?!”

“Daddy, I can’t do any magic outside of school. You just said that to Harry. And besides, even if I was allowed, I don’t know how to help her without hurting her,” you said.

Vernon let out a frustrated yell and stomped back to the dining room. You watched him leave then turned to Petunia.

“Why didn’t you try to stop Aunt Marge from saying those things?” You asked her.

“Things?”

“She was your sister and you’re going to let someone tarnish her name?” You sounded disgusted and shook your head in shame. After looking at your mom, you started to go upstairs.

“[Y/n]—“

“I don’t want to hear it! All of you just let her say those nasty things and it makes me sick. I’m going to my room.” You heard your mom call after you, but you ignored her.

After you got into your room, you closed the door and started packing. You had a feeling that someone from the Ministry was going to come and set things right. A few minutes later, your suspicions were proved correct. There was a knock on the door and you went downstairs with your trunk.

“Is this the Dursley residence?” A voice said.

“It is.”

“Ah, good! We have someone for you.”

You peeked down from where you were on the stairs and saw a dazed Aunt Marge.

“Marge!” Vernon said.

“She’s alright and will have no memory of the incident.”

“Who are you?” Petunia asked.

“My name’s Kingsley. I’m also here to pick up Miss [y/n] Dursley,” Kingsley said.

“Why?” Petunia asked.

“We thought that she might want to join her cousin.”

“But it’s still weeks before the start of term.”

“Well, ultimately it’s up to her.”

They all looked at you and you shrugged.

“I’m packed and ready. Let’s go,” you said. You walked down the remaining steps and looked at your family. “I’ll see you later.”

Vernon looked like he was going to explode, he was that angry. Petunia just looked sad and Dudley wasn’t paying any attention. Kingsley held out his arm and you took it. Within a second, you were at the Leaky Cauldron.

“Go right upstairs. Room eleven is where you will find Harry. That will be your home for the rest of the summer,” He said.

“Thank you.”

He tilted his head and disappeared. You took a breath and walked upstairs. You knocked on the door and Harry opened it.

“[Y/n]?” Harry said. “What are you doing here?”

“Someone from the Ministry brought me here,” you said.

“Your parents let you come?”

“They didn’t want me to, but I was told that it was my choice.” You smiled. “I didn’t want to leave you alone for the rest of summer.”

---

The next few weeks were nice. Everyone at the Cauldron was super nice and friendly, always making sure you and Harry were comfortable. Since your parents didn’t give you any money, Harry loaned you some so that you could get your books for the next term. He also bought you a broom since he knew you were going to try out for the Hufflepuff team and that the school brooms were awful.

When it came time for the start of term, you happily packed everything up. You had gotten a letter from the Weasley’s saying that they were going to take you to the train that morning and you were excited to see your friends again.

You woke up before Harry did and you got dressed before heading downstairs. All of the Weasley’s and Hermione were already there and you walked up to the twins.

“Hey guys!” You said, trying to put your arms around their necks.

“Bloody hell!” Fred put his hand over his heart.

“You scared us, [y/n].” Both of them were being overdramatic and you laughed.

“My plan was a success then.” You gave them a grin then hugged them. “It’s good to see you guys.”

“You must be [y/n],” a woman said. You turned and saw a man and woman coming up to you.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. It’s nice to finally meet you,” you said. You held out your hand but Mrs. Weasley pulled you into a hug.

“It’s nice to meet you too, dear. Harry didn’t tell us that you were a witch so I was surprised when Arthur told me we were picking the both of you up today,” she said.

“I didn’t learn I was until after Harry had left last year,” you said with a laugh. “It was a surprise to him too.”

“Well, you’re always welcome with us.”

“Thank you.” Molly smiled at you and patted your shoulder before walking away.

You said hello to the rest of the group, shaking your head at Ron and Hermione arguing and waving to Harry when he appeared. Walking with the twins, you sat down with them and began eating breakfast.

After breakfast was over, it was time to leave. You all piled into some cars that were waiting for you and made your way to King’s Cross. When you got there, you said goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and walked with Ginny and the twins to a compartment.

“So I take it Egypt was fun?” You asked as you sat down. “I heard Ron going on and on about it.”

“It was. We saw loads of mummies and tombs,” Ginny said.

“I learned a little about Egypt in school. I’ve always wanted to go.”

“We’ll take you with us next time,” George said.

“Yeah. It’ll be loads of fun,” Fred said.

“Thanks.”

The four of you talked and laughed for the next couple of hours and were all very confused when the train started to slow down.

“We can’t be there already, can we?” You said. Fred wiped some of the condensation off of the window and frowned.

“I can see something moving outside,” he said.

“What?” You and George went to look outside, and you saw multiple shadowy figures floating. You tried to look closer, but then the train came to a sudden stop and you flew back onto the seat, landing in Georges lap.

“Sorry,” you said.

“It’s fine.”

“What’s going on?” Ginny said.

That’s when the lights went out. The train shook a little bit and the windows started to ice over. Looking around, you saw something approaching your compartment.

“Guys,” you whispered.

The figure opened the door and you grabbed George’s arm. It was awful. The only thing you felt was the freezing cold and that hope was leaving you. It left as soon as it came and you whimpered, falling back against George. He wrapped his arm around you and you looked over to find Fred holding Ginny’s hand.

“W-What was that?” You whispered, voice full of fear.

“I think it was a Dementor,” George said.

“But why were they here?” Fred asked. A knock sounded on the door and you stifled a scream.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” a man said. He held out some chocolate and George took it gingerly.

“Eat it. It’ll make you feel better.”

You took a bite and instantly felt better. You looked at the others and saw that they were the same.

“Thank you,” you said softly. The man just smiled then left the compartment.

The rest of the ride was spent in near silence, the four of you worried it was going to happen again. You rode with them up to the castle after the train stopped and gave them a wave before going to sit at the Hufflepuff table.

Before the feast happened, Dumbledore made a couple announcements. He said that Hagrid was going to be the Care of Magical Creatures professor and that the man who had given you chocolate on the train was going to be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now you knew why he gave you that chocolate. Then Dumbledore mentioned the Dementors.

“Hogwarts is going to play host to the Dementors of Azkaban until Sirius Black is found and captured,” he said. He warned you about them and told you where they were going to be. You held back a shiver and the feast started soon after.

#Runs in the Family #george weasley x reader #reader insert #hufflepuff reader #x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #HP

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