#And the fact that most of his weight is underneath the point she picks him up from.
Why is no one talking about the strength in Pepa's arms. This man is not touching the floor in this shot. She's grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt and picked him up off the ground. Like, by a good foot and a half too.
When Tommy died, it was void. It was the flaring, heated hurt all over his body and nothingness. Unable to see, unable to feel anything but pain. Screaming and getting nothing back; not even an echo. Feeling Wilbur and the cards in his hand, and the feeling of the other moving around him, and hearing him painfully close, but being unable to see him. Alone yet trapped.
When Wilbur died, he was shoved rudely off a metro and into a station. He paced it up and down for years, yet the stairs to the outside were firmly blocked off. Trains would pass, but none stopped. Only when Schlatt visited, which wasn't often, and only that time when Tommy came. And only when it came to take him back, of course. But it was close to agony to be passed by so many times. Alone. The world moving without him. His world moving without him.
Schlatt... has no idea what's going on. He's in the gym, but he's corporeal enough for Quackity to visit him. Sometimes he goes to see Wilbur, Sometimes he catches glimpses of the outside. He really, truly has no fucking idea what's up with him and why Wilbur is stuck in a whole other realm while's stuck all Ghostbusters'-future-victim. He knows it hurts though; heart palpitations, killer headaches... his voice has gone so rough on some days he sounds like a scratching record. His lungs are full of lead, and if he doesn't want Quackity to bring him back for the chance to taste power again, he at the very least wants it so he can stop feeling the burn in his throat.
When Ranboo dies...
When Ranboo dies he's dunked in water that's freezing, yet still burns his skin to the point of peeling in a terrible icy-hot hell. The ocean stretches to never-ending horizons without land in sight, and below him the ocean stretches to void, and all he sees is a thousand eyes staring up at him, almost unblinking. Expecting. Their stares burn almost more than the water, and his fear to keep his head above the waves to avoid seeing them is more compelling than the yell of his limbs to quit swimming, accept the burn, and sink. But after enough years... where is he? Why is he swimming? Why does he bother? Who is he, anyways?
When Tubbo dies, he wakes up in a yellow concrete box. It's not quite pitch black, but the walls give him no chance to move as his arms are pressed close to his sides. There isn't room enough to sit or do much more than turn around in place, and he can hear nothing but his own frantic, shallowed breaths as he gulps in air he feels as if he's constantly losing. He spends a few years wondering if this is his coffin and they didn't realize he was still alive when they buried him.
When Sam dies, he wakes up in an obsidian prison cell he's walked past one too many times. Theres a lectern, a clock, a pot of water, and occasionally potatoes drop down for him to eat. He stares at the wall of lava, praying for a visitor, and almost dares to empathize with the man he imprisoned when none arrive. He wonders for years if he regrets building the prison, and can never come up with an answer that doesn't make him feel ashamed of himself.
When Bad dies, he wakes up with his limbs wrapped in red vines, restraining him in a way he used to find comforting but now sees only as the torture it is as thorns dig into his skin. His vision is tinted blood red. Occasionally, a flash of blue teases his vision, but when he turns to call its name, it vanishes. He takes up swearing again; there's nobody there to hear, anyways.
When Eret dies, they wake up in their castle and left to wander the halls. Wander, but barely more than a few minutes at a time; the crown on their head weighs more than the world on Atlas' shoulders, so heavy that they often must return to their throne just to get the chance to rest their head back and let the weight off their shoulders. They wonder if the sacrifice was worth the weight.
When Niki dies, she wakes up in a crowd of people whose faces she can't quite make out. A sea of people, most taller than her, that stretches out for miles. Most smile and laugh, and she's relieved she's not alone. But when she taps on one of them and politely asks for directions to where she can get help, they stare through her. She isn't a ghost; they bump into her all the time as they shove her to walk past, but they don't see her. They don't hear. She screams and not a single head turns. When she collapses against an unlucky stranger to sob, they flick her off like she's a fly. There's not even an excuse she can tell herself to say she's alone.
When Quackity dies he finds himself falling. There is no ground in sight, only sky and clouds as his wings refuse to work and he plummets constantly into nothing. He reflects on the casino and L'manberg and El Rapids and wanting more. His stomach gets used to the lurching as the cold wind burns his cheeks. Maybe his ambition was a little pointless. Maybe he flew too close to the sun.
When Karl dies he awakes to colors that hurt his eyes and a million doorways, each in different shapes and angles. He spends years pacing and stepping through doors he hopes might lead home, that ultimately lead to only more doors. Some are too high up to reach and he stares at them and cries at the fact that he'll never know what's behind them (despite knowing its probably nothing). He doesn't remember everything; just enough to know that anywhere is better than being lost here.
When Phil dies it's a long time coming. Cursed with only one life, the universe goes easy on him. There's a field of rich grass and flowers and trees and skies that beg to be flown through. If only his wings worked. If only he could show Wilbur.
When Puffy dies she finds herself in an endless graveyard. She paces through it for seemingly decades, reading the engravings of her closest friends on each one and spending no less than year knelt at each in mourning, apologizing for her shortcomings. Maybe if she'd been a touch stronger, this wouldn't have happened. Worst of all is when the headstones are blank and she doesn't know who she's mourning at all, forever unsure of the poor soul she let down.
When Hannah dies she awakes to a world rotted away, the air polluted with smog and the seas full of plastic and sludge. Sometimes she sees a rosebush or sapling, tiny and thriving in the distance. Yet whenever she rushes over to coddle and nurture, it dies underneath her fingers. The ground wilts and cracks wherever she steps. She feels as if she's wilting with it.
When Sapnap dies, he wakes up in some sort of cage. A zoo. Figures come and stare at him and laugh as birds pick at his skin until he bleeds, wolves sink teeth into his calves to hit bone, and cows crush his ribs beneath powerful hooves. Each day a new round of animals come to have their way with him. And yeah, he thinks, that's probably fair.
When Dream dies, he's almost relieved to wake up in his SMP. Great, he can get back to business, he thinks. But the more he walks, the more he notices... how quiet it is. It doesn't take him long into his afterlife to realize the people have all disappeared. Vanished. Leaving him alone. No animals or Monsters even appear. Not a friend nor foe, not even a silverfish. The world is his to do anything with without repercussion, yet all he can do for years is sit at an old bench at a cliffside and play discs over and over until the melody burns into his head and makes him want to tear his hair out. All that over a stupid disc. He laughs until he cries.
When George dies... well, it might as well be like any other dream, he supposes.
+ pairing. incubus! oikawa / fem reader / incubus! kuroo
+ genre. dark, smut
+ word c. 2,378
+ warnings. snuff, dub/non con, implied somnophilia and stalking, facial, choking, fellatio, creampie
+ author n. part 2 of monster. there are some references from it, but u should be able to understand the story even if u didn’t read that one before :)
it has been around five weeks since your encounter with oikawa and you’ve felt restless ever since.
it doesn’t matter where you are —on the streets, at uni, even in your own bathroom— there’s always an unsettling feeling of being watched.
but the nights are worse.
as soon as you close your eyes, images of him smirking down at you plague your mind and dreams. he’s repeatedly having his way with you, fucking you and making you come over and over again until you wake up. leaving you sore and wide awake for the rest of the night.
the days go by and it’s as if your energy is being sucked out of you, not even coffee nor energy drinks are able to keep you awake and away from the haunting dreams.
your body feels weak, you are weak. your fragile-looking body, covered in bruises and dull, sunken eyes easily attract looks of concern from your friends and family. but what’s most concerning it’s the fact that even if you’re restless, you keep thinking about that night.
your body and soul ache for him and you wonder if it’ll take another year until you can see him again.
it’s not until you’re at your weakest, delirious, and on the verge of insanity when he shows up. or at least that’s what you hope, being unable to distinguish your dreams from reality anymore.
“you’ve been such a good girl,” he coos in your ear, stroking your hair out of your face and leaning closer, “have you been waiting for me?”
you nod frantically, whimpering when his lips touch your cheek. he shuts you up with his mouth, his thumbs grazing the skin of your cheekbones and making you melt.
the blissful state you’re in vanishes when an unknown pair of hands start removing your clothes.
your eyes widen, trying to get a look at the intruder but oikawa keeps your face fixed on him with a strong grip on your jaw.
“i brought a friend, hope you don’t mind.”
you take a peek over his shoulder, and your eyes meet a pair of menacing ones. you recognize him immediately as oikawa’s friend from the party —another demon.
“hello, kitten. don’t mind me; i just had to see with my own eyes the pretty pussy that he has been bragging about.”
the dark-haired demon’s lips curl up in a smirk when he sees the troubled look on your face. but it’s true, oikawa hasn’t shut up about you so it's reasonable kuroo asked him to share.
his hands roam over your legs, forcing them open and keeping a firm grip on them when you try resisting him. he takes his cock out of his pants with one hand and lines it up with your entrance, marveling at the sight of your folds.
“oh and you can call me master too.”
he slides in without warning nor prepping you, the burn of your walls stretching as they make room for his cock bringing tears to your eyes.
you don’t want him. it should be oikawa, not him.
“s-stop, please,” you whine, looking at oikawa when kuroo refuses to acknowledge your pleas. but his eyes harden, a dark look taking over his features.
“don’t be rude to our guest and shut up.”
his words break your heart, tears now falling freely down your cheeks as you keep being fucked by the other demon.
“shit, kitten. i can barely fit inside your pussy. let me stretch you out, yeah?” kuroo groans as he keeps forcing his way inside your walls, his girth finally sheathing in and causing him to breath out in relief, “that’s it, sweetheart.”
“isn’t she amazing?” oikawa smiles brightly at his friend, craning his neck to the side to observe your pussy being abused by kuroo’s cock, “the neediest cunt i’ve ever had.”
you clench involuntarily at oikawa’s words which make kuroo groan.
his hand slaps your thigh only to grab a handful of it and squeeze it, “i knew you’d love my cock.”
you’re about to protest when kuroo places your legs over his shoulders and leans forward, resting his upper weight on top of you.
“no! wait– please. too much! ‘s too much, please!” you try to push him away, your nails digging into the skin of his forearms but your desperate wails fall on deaf ears.
kuroo’s pace is relentless, every graze of his cock against your snug walls feels like fire.
your eyes lock with oikawa’s, he looks pleased —much to your dismay— and you feel your heart drop when he catches you staring and smiles.
a cry escapes from your lips when kuroo picks up his pace, the distinctive sound of his cock thrusting inside your pussy taking over the bedroom.
“fuck, shut up. you’re getting annoying,” kuroo groans but you’re way too preoccupied with the pain to register his words.
you keep sobbing your heart out, your desperate cries getting louder as he continues his assault on you.
his large hand suddenly covers your mouth, concealing your sounds and making your eyes widen.
“i told you to shut the fuck up, stupid whore!”
“can you control yourself and not kill her before i get a turn?” oikawa’s irritated tone reaches your ears, “you always do this.”
the tears refuse to stop, kuroo’s actions plus oikawa’s words wounding you both physically and emotionally.
“i’m close, fuck– so close,” kuroo’s grunts in your ear, the snap of his hips picking up its pace as he draws to his end.
a few thrusts later and he’s finally reaching his high, emptying himself inside of you. his cock pulses as it pumps his cum inside your raw walls, moaning in relief at the way they wrap around him.
once he lets go of you, you curl up around yourself. your soft cries are the only audible thing in your bedroom, pain tugging at your heartstrings as the weight of what just happened falls on you. you’re so lost in your own suffering that you miss the quiet sound of clothes rustling.
it’s not until oikawa’s familiar scent reaches your nose that you look up —teary-eyed and with your eyelashes wet with tears— and observe as he crawls up his way on top of you.
“will you be good to your master?” he asks while wiping your tears away, pouting at you mockingly.
“please,” you don’t even know what you’re asking for, your mind too hazy and your body too weak to comprehend what's going on around you.
but he goes in anyway.
his hard cock enters you easily, sliding in thanks to kuroo’s cum still coating your insides and bottoms out almost instantly.
“shit, it feels way better when you’re awake.”
he starts a slow pace, basking in the feeling. his hands start kneading your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh under his fingers, and then running the pads of his thumbs over your nipples.
the sensation has you involuntarily gushing around his cock, wet sounds starting to echo around the room and prompting kuroo to lazily stroke his hardening cock again.
“naughty kitten, you want more don’t you?” a devious look takes over kuroo’s features, but he instantly dismisses your presence by turning to oikawa instead, “does she give good head?”
“why don’t you–hah, see for yourself,” oikawa struggles through his words, brows furrowing in pleasure as his hips collide against yours.
kuroo wastes no time, making his way next to your head while his hand keeps pumping at his now fully erect cock. the weight of it falls on your parted lips, running the leaking head over them and coating them with pre-cum.
you’re not given a warning, kuroo’s fingers get a tight hold on your jaw and force it open so he can slide in, the head poking at your inner cheek and making it bulge out in an obscene way.
“there you go, kitten. you are way better when you shut up,” he smirks down at you, thrusting up into your mouth, “all you needed was my fat cock.”
drool leaks out of your mouth but at this point, you don’t care anymore. you are drained, basically a corpse for them to fuck and fill with their semen.
you have a hard time trying to focus your vision on the demons before you, your head throbbing at the lack of energy. but it only gets worse when you feel a pair of hands fumbling around your throat.
“if only you could see how fucking gorgeous you look right now,” oikawa praises you as his hands wrap a collar around your neck, almost moaning at the sight underneath him, “my good girl, do you like your master’s cock?”
the leather fabric tightens around your neck, the leash allowing oikawa to jerk your head up and making kuroo’s cock slide out of your mouth in the process.
“oi! don’t hog her!”
your groggy brain barely registers them arguing over who gets to control you.
“shut the fuck up. i found her first,” oikawa tries to get his point across by lifting your legs over his shoulders and pounding even harder, your whimpers turning louder at the new position.
“but you’re fucking her cunt! at least give me control over her head!”
oikawa’s too busy thrusting his cock inside your plush walls that he eventually gives in. once the leash falls on kuroo’s hands, he wastes no time and pulls your face towards him, making you gag around his cock.
your muscles contract at the intrusion which only heightens the blissful feeling, transmitting waves of pleasure through his body.
“ah fuck, i can feel her trying to suck my cum out of me. such a cum-thirsty whore.”
what both demons miss, it's the way your face starts to turn purple. the tight grip of the collar plus kuroo’s tugging at the leash preventing the air from reaching your lungs.
with the last bits of energy you've left, you try to rip the collar off of you. your hands desperately claw at the material as your eyes widen in realization of what will come next if you’re unable to free yourself from their grip.
but your actions seem to anger kuroo, who growls and drops the leash only to grab you by your head and shove your face all the way down his length.
you start to choke, his thick girth taking so much space in your mouth and when you try to take a deep breath through your nose, he pushes in even more. coughs erupt from your chest, his pre-cum and your saliva reaching your lungs while dark spots start to cloud your vision. their voices sound far away, numbness taking over your body as you start growing dizzy and a violaceous hue tints the skin of your face at the lack of oxygen.
both demons pay no mind, too busy chasing their ends to notice how you’ve stopped fighting them. their moans echo freely all over the room, the lewd sounds of their cocks abusing your holes bringing a sense of hunger to them.
“shit, baby you feel so good. i’m gonna cum in your sweet, needy cunt and fill you with it m’kay?” oikawa announces, his orgasm rapidly approaching and inciting him to thrust harder, getting lost in the way your walls rub against his twitching cock.
kuroo lets out a low groan as he finally cums in your mouth, pulling out just enough to paint your face with it and smear it all over your lips. he sighs in relief, smiling at the sight of your pretty face covered in his sticky cum. the way it sticks to your eyelashes and drips down your face to your parted lips etching itself on his mind.
he can’t remember the last time he had such an erotic sight.
but when he notices a lack of movement from you after a minute, he couldn't help but curse out loud. thankfully, it goes unnoticed by oikawa since his moans got louder, his own orgasm sending shivers down his body and causing him to lose focus on his surroundings for a while.
“ngh– fuck,” oikawa spills inside your pussy, his cock throbbing as load after load pumps out of him and fills you to the brim.
his eyes are closed, breaths ragged as he basks in the afterglow of his orgasm. it’s not until he opens them to admire your fucked out face when he finally finds out.
he’s confused for a moment before it dawns on him. he slaps your thigh gently, calling out your name in a futile attempt to get you to answer him back.
“sweetheart, this isn’t funny.”
but as he turns to face kuroo in search of an explanation, one look at him is enough to answer his question.
“i swear i didn’t mean to!”
a nervous-looking kuroo, fully clothed by now, stands awkwardly by the door. he’s well aware he fucked up—big time.
“fucking hell!” oikawa rakes his fingers through his hair in exasperation, “did i not tell you to control yourself?!”
he can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness since he did grow a liking to you thanks to his nocturn visits. but the sentiment quickly fades away when his eyes fall on your form once again. a pleased smile appears on his handsome face as he takes in the sight of your legs spread wide open, his cum seeping out of your pussy.
“she remembered how much i like this,” he coos to himself, plunging one finger between your folds and smearing the fluids.
he’s so lost on you that he doesn’t notice kuroo disappearing from your room and leaving him behind—not like he cares. his hands reach out to smooth out your hair, traveling down the side of your face and stroking the skin of your cheeks with his long fingers.
you look so peaceful, so pretty, covered in their fluids, and with the choker still adorning your neck.
the nostalgic feeling returns, tugging at his heart and prompting a gentle smile to take over his lips. with a kiss on your forehead and then one on your lips, oikawa finally bids his goodbyes.
“don’t worry, baby girl. i have a spot in hell saved just for you.”
I Dare You to Tell Me How You Feel
How on earth had it come to this?
As Marinette sprawled out on her bed, her face flush and her heart thrumming against her chest, she wondered how she’d gotten to such a point.
Here they were, months after Hawkmoth’s defeat, identities revealed, and what were she and Adrien doing?
“I can’t believe I’m here,” Marinette dropped the phone onto her face with a little yelp. She let it roll to the side and ran her now free hands down her face instead. “What is my problem?! Why am I such a chicken?”
“You’re not chickens. You’ve both been through a lot, and sometimes it's safer to let the dust settle on huge life events before jumping into the next round of changes. Especially as Hawkmoth turned out to be Adrien’s father,” Tikki, ever the optimist, piped up by her side.
“I guess!” Marinette flailed her arms before letting them rest beside her like a corpse. “But honestly, not even a confession? Not one of us hast spoken of feelings, nor have we kissed! Was it all for nought? Would thou expect me NOT to lay my heart of hearts bare for him? Yet the words die like ash on my tongue. And what of hand holding sessions?! NARY A ONE, TIKKI, NARY A ONE!”
“You have to stop watching those old Shakespeare inspired movies,” Tikki chuckled. “You sound like a crazy knight!”
“Well I’m sorry if I sound like a crazy knight,” Marinette’s pouted, “But talking like Shakespeare makes it sound a lot less pathetic than WAH WHY WON’T HE LOVE-”
Her phone buzzed.
Marinette’s impassioned speech halted dead in its tracks. Like a lion pouncing on its prey, she launched herself forward and snatched her phone from its resting place. All former thoughts were forgotten as a message from Adrien popped up on her screen. She didn’t even hear Tikki wander off with an exasperated mutter of “teenagers.”
Because, the reason why Marinette was so upset, the reason why she wondered how they’d got to that point, was that in public Marinette and Adrien were...different. It wasn’t a bad thing, Marinette didn’t stutter around Adrien anymore, now that she knew him as the loveable goofball he was. Chat Noir didn’t flirt with her at every available opportunity, no matter how inappropriate. The pair were calmer, more at ease with each other. In fact, she’d never felt closer to him, more in sync.
But with that, came an element of being so close yet so far. The lingering tension, the many things unsaid, the shared memories they’d yet to discuss (the horrible, the funny, even the romantic).
It was like they were both afraid to make the next step. Whatever that could be.
And a part of Marinette was afraid. Maybe it was too late, maybe they’d missed the boat, maybe he didn’t feel that way about her anymore...
Adrien had skipped school for a while after Gabriel’s arrest and his mother’s awakening from her coma. Since he’d come back to school, everyone had been so kind to him, sympathising with their longtime friend and chasing away anyone who dared try and put the blame of Gabriel Agreste’s actions onto his unsuspecting child. Luckily, the rest of Paris felt the same, and both Emilie and Adrien were seen as his greatest victims.
Whilst he was away from school, he’d been texting Marinette though. They would share silly memes, and talk to each other the way Ladybug and Chat Noir always did, with an added layer of excitement because now they were using each other's civilian names too. It was free. Easy. Fun. Like the world outside them didn’t exist.
When they were around each other in school, or out with their friends, caution stifled their every movement.
But when they texted, the caution was hardly there at all. Tension replaced it, but a good kind, the kind that made Marinette’s heart flutter.
Adrien: Truth or dare?
They’d been playing this game all day, with hilarious and silly results. Marinette had dared Adrien to put a whoopee cushion on the Principal's chair. Adrien had dared Marinette to ask Chloe for fashion advice. Marinette had then dared him dance like a robot every time a lesson finished. Adrien dared Marinette to sing as he played the piano during their music lesson. Back and forth they went, daring each other over and over again.
Neither of them had selected the Truth option.
But now, in the safety of her bedroom, Marinette decided that it was time to change that.
The typing icon showed up almost immediately. It stopped and started several times, which did nothing for Marinette’s poor nerves. What was he going to ask her?
Adrien: Has knowing each other’s identities, finding out I’m Chat Noir, finding out who my father is… has it changed how you feel about me?
When the text finally popped up onto the screen, Marinette audibly gasped sitting upright and almost dropping her phone again.
She read Adrien’s words over and over again, trying to think of what to say. Had finding out Chat Noir and Adrien were the same changed her feelings? Yes. But she wasn’t sure how to articulate it in a way that made sense. She could barely understand it herself.
One thing, however, was crystal clear.
Marinette: Finding out that your father was Hawkmoth hasn’t changed my feelings about you. It’s changed how I feel about your father. You had nothing to do with that. I’ve said it before and I will say it again, you were never to blame for his actions. Ever. He kept it secret from everyone, including you. If anything, I’m amazed at how strong you are, how you were able to face him, how you chose the city of Paris over him.
Adrien’s reply was instantaneous.
Adrien: Choosing my father over Paris was NEVER an option. It would’ve meant turning my back on you.
Biting her lip to stop herself from screaming, Marinette flopped back on her pillows, landing on them with a sigh.
Marinette: Well then… in that case I guess finding out Hawkmoth is your father HAS changed my feelings for you a bit. I admire you even more now.
Marinette: And I don’t know how to explain my feelings really. But one thing I can say is that knowing you’re Chat Noir too? That’s made me happy. Like insanely happy. I think it’s one of the best things to ever happen to me.
Adrien was already typing but Marinette cut across him, feeling a sense of regret at being too forward. She wondered if this was too much too soon, worried that she was beginning to crack under the weight of all the things she’d yet to say. She was a dam and if she revealed one one thing, took away one more stone, she would burst. The words and feelings would come pouring out of her and there would be no way back.
And there was that bone-crushing fear of rejection hanging over her head. She couldn’t handle rejection from Chat and Adrien both at the same time. Her heart would never recover.
Marinette: Sorry. That sounded dumb.
Adrien: It didn’t. I agree. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me too.
Marinette smiled, sending a little heart emoji. He sent one back straight away and Marinette flailed on the bed, squealing. They’d only ever sent silly emojis to each other. But a heart? That was new.
And it was reciprocated. Reciprocated heart emojis! Marinette felt like floating.
She stared at it for at least half a minute before snapping out of it and finally responding.
Marinette: Ok! I think I answered your question, Kitty. Now it’s your turn! Truth or dare?
She hoped he would say truth, she had a burning question she needed to know.
Marinette: Same question.
The speed of her response would normally embarrass her but he was answering just as fast.
Adrien: Do I feel differently about you now I know your identity?
He was typing for a long time. Stopping and starting. Minutes passed and she wondered if she’d messed up, if she’d crossed a line he wasn’t ready to cross. But hadn’t he started it? He’d asked the question first, after all.
She tried to distract herself with other social media sites, messaging in the girls group chat, clicking through her notifications, but she kept coming back to that pesky typing icon. Once again, the fluttering started in her stomach and Marinette rolled over, burying her face into her pillows and shoving her phone underneath.
Eventually she went downstairs for a late night drink of water, bringing her phone along with her and placing it on the kitchen counter.
Of course she’d messed up. Of course she’d gone and ruined everything.
Pressing her lips together, Marinette let out a long, high-pitched whine. She didn’t want to look, she wanted to look, she had to look.
“Oh for the love of-” she chastised herself. With trembling hands, she placed the glass of water down on the counter, almost spilling half of it in the process, and picked up her phone once more.
Her heart nearly leapt out of her throat.
Adrien: I didn’t think it was possible for my feelings for you to grow stronger than they already were, My Lady. But to find out that, underneath the mask, you were one of the people I admire most in the whole world too? The fact that you’re my amazing, talented, brave friend? I almost couldn’t believe how lucky I am. I look at everything that’s happened to me recently, my dad getting arrested, my mum struggling with her recovery, the world knowing I’m the son of a supervillain…when I look at you it’s like it all goes away. It really does feel like it’s you and me against the world. But in the best way. In a fun way as well as a big battle-superheroes kind of way.
Adrien: You inspire me. Every day. Even on the days where the world feels heavy, it’s your courage that reminds me that even small steps matter. But more than that, to me, it just makes sense. Of course you’re Ladybug, of course you are. Have you met you? It’s so obvious I must have been crazy not to see it!
Adrien: So yeah I guess my feelings have stayed the same, but more. Deeper. From the moment I met you, I knew that whoever the girl under the mask was, that I would love her.
Adrien: I was right.
Tears fell on the screen. Only then did Marinette realise she was crying. She wiped both the screen and her eyes, laughing at herself, feeling such a colossal sense of relief that she couldn’t contain it. The tears wouldn’t stop, nor would the soft chuckles.
He loved her. He’d said so a long time ago, but she hadn’t wanted to believe it then. But she did now. She believed him with her whole heart.
Marinette: Truth or dare.
Adrien: Isn’t it my turn to ask, My Lady?
Marinette: Adrien. Trust me. Truth or dare.
Adrien: Alright… dare.
Marinette: I dare you to come here right now and tell me all of that again to my face. I dare you to come here so you can hear me tell you how much I love you right back.
Marinette: I dare you to come here and kiss me.
There was a brief pause. Marinette stood there, in the kitchen, long past her bedtime. It was a strange phenomenon, knowing her life was about to change forever with the reply he gave. Outside the windows, Paris was silent. Not even the sounds of traffic passing by met her ears. Even the world seemed to hold its breath in solidarity.
Adrien: I’m on my way.
And just like that, the world un-paused. Suddenly, there wasn’t a second left to lose. As quietly as she could, so as not to disturb her parents, Marinette rushed up the stairs to check herself in the mirror, quickly brushing her hair and adjusting her pyjamas to look a little bit more flattering. Should she put on makeup? Would that be trying too hard?
She began to pace, wondering what she should say when he got here, re-reading their conversation over and over again.
Finally, a gentle thud interrupted her pacing. A knock at her balcony door and she all but threw herself up the ladder to the opening.
There he was. Her Chat Noir, standing in a halo of moonlight, staring down at her with a look Marinette could barely begin to process.
“Hi,” she breathed, but it was the only thing she would say.
Chat’s wrist closed on her outstretched arm. He pulled her upwards, quickly wrapping his free arm around to support her waist as he lifted her into his arms. Without another word, he brought his lips to hers.
All the air disappeared from her lungs but she recovered and quickly settled into returning the embrace. The years of pining, of missed opportunities, of what ifs and why nots, it all melted away.
It was perfect. As it always should have been; a pair of superhero lovers under a moonlit sky.
“Hey,” he replied, resting his forehead on hers and settling her back on the ground. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders and she rubbed her nose against his. “Sorry if that was too much. I just couldn’t stand another second not kissing the girl I love.”
Marinette closed her eyes, smiling. A green flash lit up the balcony and when she opened her eyes, Adrien was standing there.
“Ugh, if you’re going to be all mushy, I’m going to go raid your fridge,” Plagg grumbled and disappeared, unaware that neither Adrien nor Marinette had heard him.
Marinette reached up, playing idly with his hair, and he leaned into her touch, holding her wrist and kissing the palm of her hand. Even though he’d put her back on the ground, she still felt like she was floating.
“It’s alright,” she replied, “I couldn’t stand another moment not kissing the guy I love either. It balances out. Which reminds me-”
And with that, Marinette pulled Adrien into another kiss. Their second kiss of the night.
Many, many more were to be had.
“Best. Game. Ever,” Adrien chuckled as they made their way back into her bedroom.
For @adrinetteapril day 11: Truth or Dare!
hey! can you write one where harry invites y/n and his band mates out for drinks and they try to hand her a drink but she reveals she previously by saying like “you can’t drink when your pregnant” ...
Word Count: 2.3k
A/N: I combined this one with a request for where Harry constantly refers to Y/N as his “ex-girlfriend,” because they’re engaged now. ((Super cute. Super corny. Makes my heart mush. Anyway.)) Kinda short but still sweet. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Take care and TPWK.
“There she is!”
His voice is drowned out by clanking glasses and the heavy bass of whatever rock song was playing through the shitty speakers in the corner of the room, but it was unmistakable nonetheless. Followed by his “greeting” were the shouts and howls of the rest of the bunch, most of them raising their glass in honor of her (late) arrival.
Harry, despite his inebriated state, smiled widely and welcomed her as protectively as he always had in the past few weeks - relieving her person of any bags or extra weight, this time being her coat and purse which he hung on the brass hooks underneath the bar table, and inspecting her facial expression for any signs of discontent or worry. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when he kicked his “dad-mode,” tendencies into overdrive, but it certainly began on that rainy, Thursday night in their shared bathroom as they sat against the wall of the bathtub with four positive pregnancy tests in both of their hands.
“Really wish you’d stop calling me that, Har,” she sneered as he helped her shake her arms loose from her coat.
“One of these days you’re gonna cause a scene.”
“'S true, though,” the drunken boy giggled.
“You’re not m’ girlfriend anymore. You’re my fiance.”
She shook her head and rolled her eyes at his antics, intending to pull him in for a quick hug and kiss when her attention was drawn away from her curly-headed brunette and towards the man of the hour.
“Hello, birthday boy,” her voice was mellow against the drunken slur that had started to take over her friend, Mitch’s.
“‘S not very nice of you to be late to my party,” he slurred as he pulled her in rather harshly for a bone-crushing hug.
“Sorry, got caught up with some work stuff,” Y/N managed to get out through a chuckle in between Mitch’s squeezing.
She saw Harry stiffen out of the corner of her eye, like he was torn between yelling something akin to, “Take it easy on her, mate. She’s pregnant for christ’s sake,” or letting the interaction play out. He knew he wasn’t allowed to do the former, as they’d agreed to wait until they could have all of their friends and family over at the same time to tell them the good great news, so Harry opted to let Mitch hug her extra tight despite his unrealistic, dramatic worries that he’d crush her fragile frame or hurt the baby in some way. She made sure to send a reassuring smile Harry’s way when Mitch let her go from his grasp.
Short and sweet was her greeting to Sarah, both of them opting to kiss one another on the cheek.
“Let me see it one more time,” her voice was quiet amongst the chatter of the bar, almost sounding like a whisper.
Y/N felt the heat climbing to her cheeks as she let Sarah take her hand in hers to examine the ring on her fourth finger. The band was gold and slim, adorned with a dainty yet sizeable single diamond in the very center.
“So pretty,” she gushed, admiring the way the gem flittered, even in the dim, tungsten-glow of the bar.
Y/N muttered a quiet “thank you,” before making her away back to the other side of the table where Harry was waiting for her with an outstretched arm, yearning to get back to what they had been doing before Y/N had to make her rounds.
As he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, Y/N caught wind of the tequila on his breath. She tasted it too, when she pecked his lips quickly and - oh god, did she taste stout as well? Maybe she’d end up taking care of him later tonight when his head was stuck in the toilet, but that seemed plenty fair considering how often Harry had been doing the same exact thing for her here lately.
“Yeh alright? Had me all worried when ya said you’d be late,” Harry’s question was asked lowly so that only she could hear.
Harry had been with Mitch and Sarah all day celebrating, hence this was the first time he’d seen Y/N since this morning when he kissed her and sent her off to work.
Y/N nodded and smiled, though her face led Harry to believe differently.
“Got sick when I got home from the office. Just took me a little bit longer to get out the door,” she shrugged, insinuating that it wasn’t a big deal, but that she wasn’t feeling one hundred percent ready-to-party either.
“Baby,” Harry half-scolded her, feeling a good portion of his buzz leave his body when Y/N mentioned that she hadn’t felt well.
“Why didn’t yeh just tell me you were sick? Coulda came home and sat with you.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to ditch your best friend’s birthday dinner just because I was throwing up for the fifteenth time this week,” she was stern in her words and made it clear that she was fine.
“I’m alright. I promise.”
Harry’s jaw softened at her proclamation, the muscles in his torso easing up from their tense position.
“Oi! Will you two stop whispering and get drunk with me?!” Mitch shouted across the table, bursting the bubble that had temporarily surrounded the couple whilst they talked about their sweet little secret that they were dying to tell everyone about.
“You,” Mitch pointed his finger towards Y/N’s head.
“Shots. Now,” he gestured to the bartender making drinks on the opposite end of where their table was.
Both Y/N and Harry chuckled nervously, unsure of how to work around the fact that Y/N couldn’t drink without spilling the beans.
“Think I need to get some food in my stomach before I do that. Why don’t you take Harry,” Y/N urged Harry forward by his shoulder and prayed it would be enough to entertain the drunk boy.
“Fine,” Mitch glared.
“It’ll just make it hard for you to catch up later then!”
He grabbed Harry by the bicep and cleared through the crowd of people in order to get his liquor he was so keen about.
The conversation with Sarah was light, mostly about what all they’d done today and bets on if Mitch would end up needing to be babied for the rest of the night. Y/N successfully dodged Sarah’s questions about the wedding and how planning was going along, chalking it up to busy work schedules and failing to come to an agreement on a venue and date.
“Harry’s dead set on a summer wedding, but I’m fighting for a winter date,” she dismissed through a nervous chuckle when the reality was that they were unsure how to navigate planning a wedding around the arrival of their baby to make any more decisions.
It seemed like ages passed before the two men returned. Y/N was picking at the fries and sipping on the ginger ale Harry had ordered her before she’d gotten there but was interrupted when Harry and Mitch came barrelling back to the table.
He was drunk. Quite drunk. And Y/N knew that because his body felt even warmer and his eyes looked even hazier than before he’d left. She imagined they definitely had more than once shot at the bar, but she didn’t have much time to ponder that before she felt his hands snake around her waist and rest on her hips. She reciprocated his touch, looping her arms around his shoulders and laying her head against his chest.
“Love you,” Harry muttered into the soft spot between her jaw and ear, then his hands wormed their way under her shirt to rest on the underside of her tummy.
“Love you too,” he said again.
She could feel him smile against her skin as he cradled her almost non-existent baby bump from underneath her oversized sweater. Harry was the only one who saw her regularly enough to notice the minute changes her body had been going through. To everyone else, she still looked like plain, old Y/N.
“We love you more, but if you don’t stop canoodling me in the middle of this bar,” Y/N began, speaking light-heartedly and quietly in his ear, “Everyone’s going to find out and you won’t get to have that announcement party you’ve been planning for weeks now.”
Harry sighed, knowing she was right, and loosened his hold on her tummy and opting to sling an arm over her shoulder to at least keep her close instead.
“I know what you’re up to,” Mitch glared at the two of them from across the table.
This gained the attention of not only Y/N and Harry but Sarah as well. Everyone turned to look at Mitch, anticipating what he was going to say next.
“And what would that be, Mitchy?” Y/N toyed.
A pout formed on his face, arms quickly crossed his chest as he huffed.
“You’re trying to get out of here and leave me all alone on my birthday.”
“Guess I’m not even here then. I’m a hallucination,” Sarah baited with a roll of her eyes.
“We’re not trying t’ leave ya, mate. Promise,” Harry stuck his pinky out across the table as a gesture of sincerity.
Mitch’s drunken rambles were beginning to sound quite childish now and became more amusing by the second.
“Are not, honey bun,” Y/N requited.
“Liars. Both of you.”
Mitch launched a bunched up straw wrapper in Harry’s direction that bounced off of his most prominent curl and landed somewhere near his feet.
“Where would we even go, hmm?” Harry taunted, resting his chin on the knuckles of his free hand that was leaned against the table.
“What could we possibly planned tha’ would be better than spending time with you lot on your birthday?”
They watched as Mitch’s remaining sobriety fought hard for an answer, but ultimately giving into his drunkness and murmuring, “Don’t know! Probably going off to screw each other or something!”
The table burst into laughter, and Y/N hid her face in Harry’s chest out of embarrassment.
“Wouldn’t surprise me actually,” Sarah quipped before taking a huge sip of her cocktail.
“Look. Here’s the deal,” Mitch tried his best in his drunken stupor to be serious.
“Prove to me that you’re not gonna leave me and take another shot.”
“Fine,” Harry shrugged.
“Let’s go back t’ the bar then.”
He started to pull Mitch along but was stopped suddenly.
“No,” Mitch was quick to intervene.
“Y/N too. If you both drink, you can’t drive home and leave me,” he said proudly as if his idea was the smartest thing he’d ever come up with.
She knew it was only Mitch being sloppy drunk and acting like the idiot he always was, but Y/N couldn’t help but feel her palms begin to sweat. They couldn’t tell Mitch the real reason why she couldn’t drink with the group tonight, so she was quickly wracking her brain for another excuse now that she’d filled her belly with french fries since giving her last one.
But there was no need to think any further, as Harry stepped in for her.
“She can’t do tha’, mate. Now, c’mon. Let’s get some more tequila. Looks like Sarah needs another drink as well, hmm?”
Harry pinched his nose in annoyance. He was trying his hardest to keep this all under wraps, but Mitch was making it extremely difficult.
“Who are you? Her keeper? Telling her what she can and can’t do?” Mitch yelled.
“No, you nunce. She can’t drink because yeh can’t drink when you’re pregn-”
Harry clapped his hand over his mouth before he finished his sentence, but it was too late. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking when he said it. Wasn’t even sure if he was thinking at all, to be completely honest. He silently prayed that neither Mitch nor Sarah heard him, but he quickly realized that was untrue when they both stared between him and Y/N with wide eyes.
“Y/N L/N. Are you pregnant?” Sarah was the first to speak up.
Y/N felt like she was stuck in place, only able to look at Harry with a racing chest and her mouth agape.
“I, um, I - yes?” It came out as more of a question due to her state of shock.
“I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Holy shit,” Harry exclaimed as he went back to Y/N’s side to console her.
He was spiraling in fear that Y/N was angry with him, but it was mostly the alcohol making him think so.
“You’re having a baby?” Mitch’s voice was unusually quiet for how loudly he had been yelling just moments ago.
“Yeah. We are,” she was laughing nervously as she spoke.
“Sorry that Harry ruined the surprise. We wanted to have a big party and tell everyone at the same time, but I guess the cat’s out of the bag for you guys.”
She rubbed Harry’s back with her palm, a silent reassurance for Harry that she wasn’t upset with him. Mitch and Sarah, however, they couldn’t read.
Mitch said nothing, only leaving his position beside Sarah to go stand in between Y/N and Harry. He looked at them both with an expression that resembled both anger and confusion, which only added to their discomfort.
In a split second, he had his arms around both of them, hugging them tightly.
“Holy shit! This is the best birthday present ever. Uncle Mitch and Aunt Sarah. What the fuck?!” he was rambling now, beaming from ear to ear as he ran over to pull Sarah, who was also losing her shit, just in her own seat and not on top of Harry and Y/N, into the group hug.
Their eyes caught each other in the midst of the friend-sandwich they were being forced to be a part of. A smile and knowing look were exchanged between them and they knew, despite it not coming out in the most fashionable way, their precious little bub would be surrounded by people that loved them dearly.
The Mirror of Erised // Draco Malfoy
Summary: Curious professors, treasure hunts, romantic feelings.
A/N: This idea gripped me and I couldn't let it go. I haven't written for Draco in so long, I forgot how much I love this character.
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Female!Reader
Warnings: fluff, pining, mutual pining, kissing, treasure hunts, humour, swearing, mentions of food and drink
Word count: 4.4k
The air of the greenhouses was always humid; thick with moisture, creating the perfect environment for the magical plants of Hogwarts to thrive and grow. Tended by all students, the greenhouses saw an abundance of visitors every day.
The collection of greenhouses had been your solace as a teenager studying at the enchanting school. Too anxious from the state of wizarding society, the greenhouses became a place of calm for you. Professor Sprout had taken you under your wing after your fourth visit to the unconventional classrooms. From there, your knowledge of magical plants and their properties grew until you were the one they called when the school was destroyed, and students were injured.
It wasn’t long after the Battle of Hogwarts that McGonagall offered you a teaching position, wanting a trustworthy, welcoming soul to take over from Professor Sprout. Sprout hadn’t worried; she knew she had left her beloved greenhouses in safe hands.
Days in the greenhouses always flew by. You constantly found yourself entranced by your work; the potting and repotting of Mandrakes, the drying of nettles, the harvesting of Asphodel root – it was enough to keep you thoroughly occupied as well as a hive of information for the students that line the greenhouse work stations.
However, today you found yourself occupied not by the Aconite plant that also went by Monkshood and Wolfsbane. Instead, you were caught up in a rumour delivered to you this morning by Nearly Headless Nick. The resident ghost of Gryffindor had flitted over to you, already grinning with excitement at the information he had to share. By the time such information had been imparted onto you, your excitement rivalled his.
There was only one person, however, that you wanted to share this rumour with.
Draco Malfoy followed you into teaching a year after you began your position at Hogwarts. He hadn’t wanted the job at the ministry; his name scorned by most witches and wizards. McGonagall had seen something in him and had offered him the position of Potions Master, knowing how comfortable the Malfoy heir would been in the subject.
The friendship with the Slytherin Prince happened over many shared meals; breakfasts, lunches, dinners in the Great Hall in which you always found yourself saving a seat for the blonde in case no-one else at the table did. Draco’s allegiance in the Second Wizarding War was a well-known fact amongst staff and students.
After a while, the two seats became reserved for the both of you. An unofficial seating plan in which you would save a seat for Draco, and he would save one for you if you were running late. It was a friendship you so dearly cherished, and if you happened to have recognised the familiar stirrings of love in you as you glanced at the blonde, then that would be your secret to bare. Draco didn’t need to know how he made your heart race and sent your head into a spin; he didn’t need to know how often he featured in your dreams, waking up with your arm outstretched as if reaching for him in the deep of your sleep.
The man occupied your mind as you left the greenhouses, wandering to the Great hall where you caught sight of the shock of blonde hair amongst the rest of the staff. It’s as if he senses your presence, Draco looks up from his plate of food to meet your gaze. A slow smile spreads across his face as he waves at you, hurrying you over.
“Have you heard?” You smile, remembering your earlier conversation with Nearly Headless Nick, childish excitement written across your face as you reach out to grip Draco’s forearm.
The blonde indulges you with a wide smile of his own. “Have I heard what?”
Your grip on Draco’s arm grows tighter as your excitement peaks. “It’s back at Hogwarts – the Mirror of Erised.”
Shock pulses through his body as Draco tries and fails to keep the alarm from showing on his face. “What? Where did you find that out?”
“Nearly Headless Nick who heard it from Professor Binns who overheard Professors Flitwick and Trelawney discussing the subject matter outside of McGonagall’s office.”
Draco’s grey eyes narrow as he takes in the admittedly weak and confusing chain of gossip. “Are you certain that it is back here?” He asks; curiosity burning through him, but not wanting to risk falsities.
“There’s only one way to find out,” You tease, biting your lip as you peer up at the Potions professor through your lashes. You knew that Draco would be apprehensive about such a magical object, but even he couldn’t resist catching a glimpse into his own soul – his own heart.
Draco groans; repressing the urge to let his head fall into his arms. “Another treasure hunt?”
He didn’t remember the last one too fondly. You had heard whispers of the Necklace of the Lady of the Lake being housed in an offshoot of one of the many tunnels that lay undisturbed underneath Hogwarts. They had remained undisturbed for over a thousand years until you had chosen to find the necklace. You had no interest in wearing it; you couldn’t be bothered about being unfathomably loved, but you had simply wanted to see whether there was any stock in the legend preached by Professor Binns in History of Magic.
Unfortunately, whilst the tunnels did exist, the necklace did not, and it was left to Draco to pick up the pieces of your disappointment as well as heal numerous scratches and welts covering your limbs after an ill-timed fall.
After that, Draco had made you swear that your treasure hunts would remain above ground and somewhat safe.
“Please, Dray,” You plead, shaking the arm which you still hold in your grip. “Help me find the Mirror of Erised.”
“We were warned away from it as students,” Draco argues, desperate for you to see sense so he can protect you from further injury, “Why should we find it now?”
“Because we are no longer students,” You protest, gesturing to your seats at the teacher’s table in the Great Hall where you both currently sit.
“What do I get out of this?” He asks, already feeling his resolve crumbling as he takes in the excitement shining brightly in your eyes.
“You get to spend time with me, of course,” You laugh, anticipation curling in your gut.
“Well, if you’d led with that,” Draco begins, his voice trailing off as he watches your eyes grow wide with the realisation of what he is saying.
“I’ll help,” He nods, unable to keep the smile of out of his voice and off of his face.
“Thank you!” You cry, releasing your hold of Draco’s arm to throw your own around his neck, pulling him in for a tight hug. “I knew I could count on you.”
Draco laughs; his arms coming to wrap around you. “I’ll come to your rooms after dinner, deal?”
“Deal,” You answer, pulling your head out of his neck long enough to reply to him. You stay wrapped up in each other for another moment; enjoying the closeness of the other until you begin to feel the gaze of colleagues and students alike – all curious to whether the two of you had gotten your act together yet.
Draco knocks on your door an hour after the end of the dinner. The many students at the school had been sent off to bed though many still roamed the halls despite the nearing toll of curfew. Draco had passed many teenagers on his way to your rooms; each either greeting him verbally or offering him a nod as he passed. He wasn’t going to remind them that they needed to head back to their dorms; he was out after hours too, and despite being an adult, he still sometimes felt like the student he was so many years ago.
At this point in this teaching career, Draco had spent countless evenings in your rooms. He could explain the layout like the back of his hand from the personalised tapestry backing the wall behind your bed to the bookshelf in your living room whose shelves are bowing from the weight of the books laid upon it.
He could picture it all in his mind’s eye as he knocks twice more upon the faded, wooden door.
“I wondered when you’d be dropping by,” You greet as you step to one side to let the potions professor enter.
Draco rolls his eyes at the mock impatience in your voice. He toes off his shoes before following you through to the small living area where he spies a mug of his favourite tea waiting for him on the coffee table. He reaches for it as he settles down on the worn couch.
“What’s the plan?”
“Find the mirror, look into it, try to achieve our desires.”
“Piss off, Dray,” You laugh, hitting him with a couch cushion.
“In all serious, do you know where the mirror could be kept?”
“I have three ideas.”
Holding up your hand, you show Draco three fingers as you count off the locations in your mind. “The Room of Requirement, the Chamber of Secrets, and the place where Harry found the Philosopher’s Stone in our first year, just off the Third Floor corridor.”
“All difficult places to get into,” Draco notes wryly.
“Your point being?”
“You never make this easy for me.”
“I’ll repeat my words from earlier: piss off, Draco.”
“Why do you want to find it so badly?” Draco asks; finally voicing the words that have been sat on the tip of his tongue since dinner.
You shrug, messing with a loose thread on a dark red cushion. “Why not? I’d like to see what I truly desire.”
Understanding that he isn’t going to get a longer answer, Draco changes tact. “Which room do we hit first? What’s the plan?”
He’s rewarded with a smile that lights up your whole face and sets his heart pounding in his chest.
Draco does his best to listen to you; he does his best to pay attention to every word leaving your lips and every gesture of your hands, but he finds it hard when all he can see if the excitement in your eyes and the pure happiness written on you face. If he already didn’t think you beautiful, he would think so now.
As Draco watches you, he finds himself thinking back to the time he first realised his feelings for you. It had been at a quidditch match – Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff. Draco had attended only because you had asked him to; Hufflepuff had been your house when you were student, you were an avid supporter of the team. Parents had been attending this match as well; many of them old enough to remember the first wizarding war, his parents and his side in the second wizarding war. It had awkward until one parent made one too many comments. You had defended him, embarrassing the parent until they had no choice but to leave. When Draco had asked you why you had done such a thing; you had simply reached for his hand, squeezed it and told him that that is what friends do.
Draco had fallen in love with you then and there.
“You weren’t listening to a damn thing I was saying, were you?” You ask, a wry smile curving your lips as you settle back against the many cushions on your couch, pulling Draco from whatever daydream he found himself in.
Draco bites down on his bottom lip to keep the smile from spreading across his face. He shakes his head, “I’m sorry, I got distracted.”
“Thinking about what?”
He blanches; feels all colour leave his face as he’s put on the spot. Draco isn’t ready to confess what he feels for you; he hasn’t quite figured out whether it would ruin the friendship he so dearly cherishes or whether it would create something more between you. Either way, he isn’t ready. Instead, he offers, “I was thinking about the treasure hunt we went on for King Arthur’s sword.”
You groan dramatically, pulling a cushion over your face. “I didn’t know King Arthur’s sword was going to be that sharp!”
Draco snorts, “It’s a sword! What did you think it would be?”
“How many times do I have to apologise?”
“As many times as it takes for the scar to fade,” Draco states, lifting his pant leg to show you the puckered skin of a three inch scar running up the length of his shin. You wince at the sight of it.
“Still,” You whisper, sheepish from Draco’s reminder of the danger these hunts pose, “Will you help me?”
Draco sighs, settling once more against the many cushions on your couch. He takes a sip of his tea, pretending to mull over his decision. He knew he would help; he would follow you to the ends of the earth, but he wouldn’t be a very good friend if he didn’t make you stew over it. Ultimately, Draco smiles, turning to you, he asks, “Where do we begin?”
The Third Floor corridor is searched later that same week; the two of you coming up empty handed as you stride through the various tasks completed by Harry Potter in his first year of schooling at Hogwarts. You cannot stop the disappointment from flooding your veins when you come up empty handed; no sign of the Mirror of Erised when you reach the end of the path.
“We’ll find it,” Draco promises, an arm wrapping around your waist in comfort, “We’ll try the Chamber of Secrets next, see what that brings up.”
The Chamber of Secrets also has you both coming up empty handed. Draco had paused momentarily as you opened both doors to the chamber; shocked at your use of parsel tongue.
However, both of you felt the keener sting of bitter disappointment when all that is left of the Chamber of Secrets is a Basilisk skeleton. Fascinating though it may be, the chamber doesn’t hold what you seek so you leave the place, hoping never to return.
The Room of Requirement can be located on the seventh floor corridor; its entrance appears across from a tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy, but it only ever makes itself known to those who need it. On your list of locations for the Mirror of Erised, the Room of Requirement was your last option.
“What if it isn’t here?” You worry, standing next to Draco at the supposed entrance of the room.
“The mirror or the room of requirement?”
“Both,” You cry, chewing on the inside of your cheek.
“Hey,” Draco hushes, touching a finger to your chin briefly. “It will be. I’ve entered the room of requirement plenty of times.”
“Did you ever see the mirror?”
Draco shakes his head. “I didn’t, but I wasn’t searching for it then. I am now. Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” You reply, steeling yourself with a deep breath.
Draco takes your hand in his; tangling your fingers together for extra security as you begin the walk past the rumoured entrance. Three times you both walk past, thinking only of the Mirror of Erised and not of the way Draco’s hand feels in yours.
The grinding of stone is what makes the both of you pause. Draco squeezes your hand in hope as you turn to see the appearance of an ornate, dark wooden door. A glance at the blonde has further hope blooming in your chest when you spy a glimmer of familiarity in the eyes of the Slytherin Prince.
Taking the lead, Draco guides you through the door.
The room can only be described as cavernous; stone columns hold up the large room, all circling the Mirror of Erised which sits in the centre of the room, only accessed by walking down stone steps.
Excitement settles deep within your gut as you reach out for Draco’s hand only to find that he’s reached for you first. Turning to the blonde, you find triumph and happiness written across his face. “We’ve found it,” He whispers, not wanting to speak louder in case he disturbs the peace of the mirror.
“We have,” You reply just as quietly.
In sync, you both look out towards the mirror. It stands impressively in the centre of the room; its stature demanding any and all attention. It’s hard to look away with the knowledge that it could show you what you truly desire.
“Who looks first?” You ask, keeping a tight grip on Draco’s hand.
“I’m not sure,” Draco states, wanting just as much to look into the mirror now that he’s standing in front of it. He can feel its pull; he’s desperate to answer its call.
“Rock, paper, scissors?” You suggest, offering the childish game as solution to your problems.
“Alright,” Draco replies, letting go of your hand to offer it up as a fist. “Ready when you are.”
“Rock, paper, scissors,” You both chime, voices echoing off the stone walls. Draco laughs as loud as he dares when you lose for a second time in a row; he tries to offer you another go but it is clear you’ve lost this round.
“Just go stare into the glass, you arse,” You huff, shoving at his shoulder. Draco blows you a kiss as he steps down into the pit where the mirror awaits.
“Well,” You hiss, keeping your voice low in case Filch happens to walk by, “What do you see?”
Draco stands before the grand Mirror of Erised. He had heard of its prowess; Harry had preached so often about it that its legend only grew in Draco’s mind. He had never thought for one second that he would be standing in front of it, watching the ancient glass swirl and whirl as his deepest desires are reflected for him.
“Draco?” You call, voice louder, breaking the blonde from his pre-occupation with the mirror. He turns to you, eyes beginning to focus on the room around you. “Hmm?” He asks, “What did you say?”
“What did you see?” You ask, hands settling on your hips as you fix the man in front of you with an unimpressed but desperately curious stare.
Draco glances back to the mirror; his right hand twitches by his side, needing to know that if he reached out towards the immemorial glass, he could step right through and live his true desires.
He must stare at the mirror too long for he feels your hand slip into his; he feels your fingers tangle with his and tug once, pulling him from his yearnings with an ever-growing sense of urgency. “Draco,” Your voice calls though it sounds muffled as the grey swirls of fog in the mirror begin to take shape once more. “Draco,” You call again, “Come back to me.”
The words are muffled, but the pleading note to your voice cuts through the fog surrounding him. Draco comes back to the present with a start; his whole body jolting as he registers the feel of your hand in his, the weight of your fingers tangled with his.
“Where did you go just now?” You ask, concern tightening your voice, making it hard to speak.
Draco blinks once, twice, three times before whispering, “The mirror is very powerful. You can see why witches and wizards have wasted away in front of it, their desires played out for them as if on a stage.”
“Are you okay?” You ask, bringing a hand to Draco’s cheek, registering his drop in temperature. “You’re freezing cold.”
“I feel fine,” The man murmurs, sounding very far away as his grey eyes glaze over once again.
“This was a mistake,” You spit, hating yourself for dragging him along every step of the way.
“No,” Draco states firmly, “Not a mistake at all.”
“Draco, you’re freezing cold and you’re barely present enough to have a full conversation with me. You’re not okay.” You shake your head in frustration, “We’re going back to my rooms. With any luck, we won’t come across the mirror again.”
Draco goes to argue; he goes to scream and shout, but he takes a look at the stricken expression on your face and chooses to close his mouth. It’s a look he hasn’t seen in years; a look he hasn’t seen since you took in the sight of the destroyed courtyard after the Battle of Hogwarts, registering the dead bodies lined up at the side, knowing there was nothing you could do to help them. It was a look Draco had hoped he would never see again, but as the look ages your features, any argument Draco wants to pose dies on the tip of his tongue, the bitterness seeping its way to back of his throat. Instead, he holds on tightly to your hand and lets himself be led back to your rooms where warm blankets and hot tea awaits.
Having barely slept after your first encounter with the mirror, you closely resemble a ghost as you take a seat at the teacher’s table for breakfast the following morning. Draco’s seat next to you is empty as you pour yourself a hot pot of tea, needing the warmth to replace what you lost in that awful room last night.
As you reach for a piece of toast and the pot of raspberry jam, you wonder whether Draco felt well enough to come down for breakfast. It had taken numerous mugs of tea to bring his temperature back up to what it was, and he remained infuriatingly tight lipped over what he had seen in the mirror despite your deluge of questions.
You only look up from your food when you catch sight of Draco out of the corner of your eye. He settles in the chair next to you, looking as if he had barely slept a wink either. He had left your rooms looking close to a corpse, the tiniest hint of colour in his cheeks. Your concern for him had interrupted your own sleep; tossing and turning all night to try and stop yourself from kicking down his door.
“How are you?” You whisper, not wanting anyone to overhear this conversation.
“Better,” He answers after a brief sip of his hot drink. “Thank you for last night.”
“I want to go back,” Draco announces over his breakfast, “I need to go back.”
“Why?” You ask, aghast at his decision.
“I need to be certain of what I saw.”
“And you can’t be certain without having to go back to the mirror?”
“Look,” Draco sighs, resting his teacup back onto its saucer, “I’m going back to the Mirror of Erised. Now, you can come with me and find out what I saw the first time which I know has been killing you to find out about. Or you can stay here and worry about me and not find out what I saw. What will it be?”
You purse your lips, keeping any and all barbed retorts behind your locked lips. Draco had you in a bind and he full well knew it. Eventually, after much deliberation, you roll your eyes at the blonde. “Fine,” You huff, “I’ll come with you. When are you going?”
“Tonight. I’ll come to you after curfew.”
The excitement upon finding the cavernous room the first time had quickly faded upon your entering the second time. You remain two steps behind Draco, watching him intently from the back as he takes a deep breath, stepping further into the room.
The Mirror of Erised remains unmoved in the centre of the room; the stone steps leading to the ancient, powerful object have a slight sheen of frost over them. Draco pays the frost no mind as he steps down to the mirror; the heels of his oxford reverberating loudly off the stone walls of the room. You wince slightly; safe in the knowledge that Filch wouldn’t be passing this room tonight, but still not wanting to take any chances.
Had the Mirror always been this foreboding? You ask yourself as you watch the man you’ve slowly fallen in love with get closer and closer to the archaic magic trapped inside the glass.
Draco pauses long enough to flash you a smile that you suppose is meant to relieve you of some of the stress and worry you feel, but it does nothing to calm your nerves as Draco steels himself to stare into the mirror again.
You remain close by as Draco watches the fog; you watch out for any signs of Draco losing himself like he did last time. As he had said previously, the mirror had turned scores of witches and wizards into bumbling fool, obsessed with watching their desires play out in front of them but refusing to act upon them. You couldn’t help but harbour some hatred for the mirror as you watched Draco fall under the mirror’s spell once more.
It takes only a moment for it all to become too much. Taking a tentative step forward, you call out his name only to receive no reply. Worrying your bottom lip, you call his name louder.
Draco’s right hand twitches as he pulls himself from the mirror. “You called,” He smiles, a poor attempt at humour.
You glare at the blonde; your heart pounding as Draco walks back to where you wait. “How do you feel?”
“Fine,” He answers, “Nothing like last time.”
“What did you see?”
“Us,” Draco answers; the single word tumbling from his lips as a smile begins to grace his face.
“Us?” You repeat, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“I love you,” Draco states honestly, plainly as if the very fact had been common knowledge for a long time. “I love you,” He repeats, arms slipping around your waist to hold you near.
“You love me?” You squeak, unable to comprehend such words after an evening as eventful as this one.
He nods; his nose brushing yours as his lips barely graze over your mouth. “I love you,” He repeats almost breathlessly as the need to kiss you tries to overtake his body.
“I love you too,” You murmur quietly, letting yourself fall further for the man holding you so tenderly.
Draco’s only answer to that is to kiss you.
Harry Potter Taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @figlia--della--luna @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @awritingtree @haphazardhufflepuff @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lestersglitterglue @msmimimerton @obx-beach @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @bbeauttyybbx @breadqueen95 @oopskashish @slytherinsunrise @remmyswritings @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @ria-rests-here @superbturtlemakerathlete @inglourious-imagines @ithilwen-lionheart @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @ilovejjmaybank @theweasleysredhair @theonly1outof-a-billion @phuvioqhile @moatsnow @storyisnotover @himooonlight @potters-heart @amourtentiaa @joyfullymulti @pandaxnienke @mesmerisedangel @angelxnaa @iamninaanna
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Specific fic taglist: @regulusarcturusblack2008 @randomlimelightxxx @ranhanabi777 @yegreatdragontamingpiratecaptain
daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 9. hearts
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[warnings: mention of meth, swimming without pants on??, large body of water, momentary angst]
"why was it so easy for you to make it so hard for me?"
You weren't drunk, but you were definitely not sober enough to comprehend how horrible the idea of being even relatively close to a large body of water whilst intoxicated was.
Ashley was not as much a lightweight as you'd proved to be, so she was virtually sober. the time you'd known her (just over a week) you'd come to know her as the most carefree of the group. She did things when she felt like it, and she did what she enjoyed.
Larry could be called carefree, as well—but he gave off more "I truly do not give one ounce of a fuck, and I will go along with any activity you want to do if I can smoke" vibes.
You hadn't figured Sal out yet. You tried not to think about it, but there were so many things you wondered about him. You'd seen his face. That had been your fault, and you were beginning to feel immense guilt for what you'd done.
You weren't going to inwardly speculate about what had happened to him—but you'd seen the look in his foggy blue gaze when he'd laid eyes on that dog at the party.
The car came to an abrupt halt, knocking you from your thoughts and lurching your body forward. Your eyes widened, and you look around frantically to figure out where you were or if you'd just had an accident—but turns out, you'd made it to Wendigo Lake.
"Well, you said you wanted to go to the lake," Ashley grinned, locking eyes with you.
You blink repeatedly, your pupils dilating to focus on the sight of the large body of water in front of you, glistening beneath the moonlight. A smile slowly etched into your face, and you reached to your right to open the passenger-side door.
It wasn't long before you'd reached the point where the slope began into a downward incline, your feet planted in the grass as you gazed down at the lake you knew had to be freezing—but the road-like reflection of moonlight on the water continued to call your name.
The breeze blew into your face.
You hadn't even heard the approaching footsteps and the crunching of grass when Larry, Ashley, and Sal walked up and joined you.
There was something melancholic about knowing that you were living in a moment you knew you'd miss.
"We should swim," you say, nonsensically.
Sal looks away from the lake and to you from his place on your right side. You turn your head to lock eyes with him.
"Y/N, someone's gonna get sick. I don't think you understand how cold this water gets-"
"Okay then," you mumble. "I should swim," you correct, "and if anyone wants to join me, they are more than welcome."
Larry and Ashley's laughter echoes into the dead air as you ambled down the slope, Sal standing there, watching—before following your lead.
"Let's think this over," he tries, matching your pace with ease. "You're going to regret it when you're shivering all the way home."
"Ashley can blast the heat."
"What if you drown?"
"I won't," you respond, "because you're getting in with me."
You're both stood on the shore of the lake now, locking eyes and regarding each other with your own equally stubborn determination.
"Hey!" You hear Larry's voice call from up the hill. The tension that's formed within the eye contact breaks once you've looked away from each other and peered up at the height of the slope.
"We're gonna go check out that forest over there," Ashley shouts, pointing towards the cluster of trees that were a measurable distance away. "Heard there's some gnarly satanic shit in there. Call if you need anything."
You exchange a glance with Sal.
"Alright," he yells back. "Don't get lost!"
"Can't promise that!" Larry sends both of you a grin before he and Ashley both head towards their destination, the sound of grass crunching steadily quieting as the distance between you grows.
When they're far enough away, you let out a quick sigh of relief. "Finally," you reach down to your shoes and began pulling them off, including socks.
You then reached down to the button of your jeans.
Sal yelps. "What're you doing?!"
You look up with raised eyebrows. "You think I'm swimming in these? I'll sink." You return your focus downward, pulling the zipper down and hook your thumbs around the waistband of your pants. "Nothing you haven't seen before."
It was almost excruciating to hide your sly smile as you bent at the waist to slide the denim down your legs. You stepped out of your jeans, pulled your phone from the pocket, and tossed the shed article of clothing farther up the hill, tossing your phone on top of it.
The device landed with a thud, resulting in an inward cringe on your part.
You didn't allow yourself to regard the fact that you were now standing in front of Sal with no pants on, so you just turned, stepped forward, and tested the water with a toe.
"Liar," you submerge a foot in, your body instinctively shivering against your will. "It's not that cold."
He scoffs, reaching down to rip his sneakers and socks off in your peripheral vision. "You're saying that now, but I'd like to hear the same thing when your bare legs are in there."
Sal tosses his shoes off near where you'd thrown yours along with his phone. He watches you submerge your other foot in, before following your lead.
Sal seems to handle it with a lot more ease than you, both feet now immersed in lake water. He doesn't seem to react physically, only standing with slack shoulders and his head tilted slightly upward. You watch the side profile of the prosthetic, and the way he lifts a hand and passes ringed fingers through vividly blue hair.
Moonlight illuminates the white face of the mask.
You can't see his real face, but you can picture him now. The tranquility of his expression, the curve of his dark eyelashes, his tongue passing over his lips...
The water is up to your calves now.
"I'm sorry," you murmur, angling your chin towards him. It's rushed, and sudden, and you momentarily doubt he even heard it beneath the rippling of water as he moves a bit closer.
"For what?" He asks, turning his head away from the moon and to look you in the eyes.
"I shouldn't have taken the prosthetic off without your permission. The guilt has been churning inside of me and I felt I needed to apologize for it eventually. I'm sorry."
Sal looks down, his eyes following the shape of your thighs before he locks gazes with you again. "You make me feel normal, Y/N. You'd never even asked about it before—and that means the world to me. I won't hold what you did against you."
"But..." you try, but he stops you.
"Y/N," he laughs sweetly. "Don't try and villainize yourself—you did nothing wrong. If anything... it was almost nice to know you weren't scared of seeing what was underneath."
You intake breath for the first time since the conversation began. You felt almost stupid, tears forming in your eyes as you stood within a freezing lake in just a crop top and your underwear.
"You should stop apologizing so much, too. You don't have anything to say sorry for."
"I'm sorry," you repeat, nonetheless.
He chuckles, fixing his gaze onto yours, an almost otherworldly perceptiveness burning in his striking eyes. "I understand how it feels to constantly find fault in yourself for something," he murmurs. "To live with it, to experience that guilt..."
You watch his Adam's apple bob. "It's hard."
A wave of despair washes over your body, and you don't even understand the context of Sal's statement. You're close to him now, and you can tell he's searching for an excuse to put an end to the topic—so you take his hand and divert attention elsewhere.
"Your rings," you utter, holding his hand delicately, looking over the silver and black rings that adorn his digits. "Where are they all from?"
He lifts his other hand for you so you have full access to every band that he's wearing on his fingers. Once he's shown you his right hand, two rings that seem to share the same theme catch your eye.
"I have a few more in my room," he replies, watching you trace a fingertip over the matching heart rings. "I don't know, I guess I collect them—some are gifted, some I've bought myself..."
"With whose money?" You tease, peering up at him through your lashes. The water swishes a little as Sal adjusts his weight.
His eyes squint a little, so you assume he grins. "I'm not dead broke if that's what you're insinuating."
"No, no," you trail off, looking back down at the rings with admiration. "I love these."
"Got them at the thrift store—something told me I would regret not buying them." He looks back up, stares into your downcast eyes for a long moment, and speaks again, "Why don't you have one?"
Your heart flutters. "You want to give me a ring?"
"Sure. Which one do you want?"
"Sal..." you can't help but smile, tracing his pale knuckle with the pad of your thumb. The swift breeze blows over your bare shoulders and conjures a shiver from your body. "You paid money for these. I don't want to take one from you."
"Don't you want a ring?"
You grin shyly. "Of course I do."
You bite your lip nervously, sliding your finger over the silver ring with multiple black hearts engraved into the entire loop of the band. It didn't take much consideration—you'd fallen in love with the ring as soon as you'd laid eyes on it.
"This one," you audibly decide, meeting Sal's eyes anxiously.
Without another word, he eases the ring off of his middle finger and slides it onto yours. His hands are bigger than yours, and you fear it may not be small enough—but it does. It's a perfect fit.
"It was always kinda small on me," he began. "It's better for you."
You hold your hand out up and toward the moon, twisting it in different angles to examine the way the ring hugs your finger snugly.
You lower your hand back down to his, giggling. "We match now," you say softly, referring to the silver ring with the singular black heart that remained on his hand—the one that corresponded to the one now on yours.
As you absentmindedly turn his hand over, passing your eyes over his rings and the lines of his palms, you notice a faint bruising on his fingertips. Your eyebrows raise in alarm, and you meet his eyes and open your mouth to voice your concerns—but he beats you to the punch.
"It's from guitar strings," he murmurs. "Happens when I press too hard."
"Isn't that supposed to go away once you've played for a while? I've heard you mention once that playing the guitar isn't something new to you."
"Yeah, you're right. It is supposed to," Sal replies, intrigue on his tongue. "I don't know. I guess I'm weird."
You grin, stepping forward and submerged yourself further into the water—just enough so you were immersed up to your knees. You turned to face him. "I don't think you're weird. If you were weird, I wouldn't have gotten into a lake with you. At night... with no one else around. Oh, and with no pants on. That too."
Sal gestures his thumb over his shoulder. "Ash and Larry aren't far. If I were to murder you, they'd hear."
You shrug light-heartedly, bending just a bit to immerse your fingers into the water and flicking some towards him. "You could always cover my mouth and drown me. Effective and easy."
He raises his hands in poor defense, but the light splash still lands, lightly speckling his dark, long-sleeved shirt.
Sal bends just as you had (albeit a bit less, his arms were longer than yours) and splashes you gently. "After I've gifted you one of my prized possessions? Why would I do that?"
"That was only means to gain my trust!" You exclaim playfully, now using two hands to splash him.
"Splash me all you want, but I won't confess to something I'm not guilty of."
You stick your tongue out. "That's what they all say. You're only making yourself look stupid."
"I look stupid?" He laughs, pointing at himself before lowering his hand to splash you with a flick of the wrist. "You're the one with no pants on—in a lake, at night. If you die of hypothermia, it won't be anyone's fault but yours."
"All the more reason for you to murder me in cold blood."
"You're making no sense. Are you still drunk?"
"Ugh!" You groan dramatically, splashing him with much more vigor than the previous few times. He genuinely recoils this time, holding his hands out in defense before dropping them. A light shower rains down over his head, just barely dampening his hair and casting a wet sheen on the prosthetic.
"I'm not intoxicated! How dare you!"
Sal genuinely laughs from his chest, the ridiculousness of the situation hitting him. "I can't believe this," he says, running his hands through his hair.
You roll your eyes and move to immerse yourself in the lake water further, the questionable liquid sloshing around your thighs. That's when you hear a familiar two voices, laughing and yelling, and growing closer.
You and Sal turn to each other—Sal being a lot less concerned than you.
"Oh no," you murmur, looking down at yourself. "I have no pants on!"
Sal laughs (his laughter is normally a sound you genuinely enjoy hearing, but now it's obnoxious because it's not what you need to hear right now) and flits his eyes over you amusedly. "I can see that."
"Larry's a guy! He can't see me in my underwear!"
You look out at the open land, looking for your friends' approaching figures worriedly, but you see no one. You hear splashing as Sal continuously closes the distance between you both. "Yeah, I am too."
You roll your eyes, mutter something about boys never understanding anything, and start trudging through the water, back towards the shore.
Sal follows you through your efforts until you've stepped onto land, remaining perfectly patient even though the coldness of the water slowed your movements the entire journey.
He walks forward and tosses your jeans at you, along with your shoes, then sliding your phone in his pocket along with his device for safekeeping.
"I don't have a towel," you mumble. "My legs are too wet. I'll never get these on in time."
Sal blinks at you after somehow already getting his socks on. "Roll in the grass," he quips tightly like he's holding in a laugh. "That'll dry you off."
You scrunch your nose up and throw your shoe at him. It lands, bouncing off of his head with an audible thump, and then lands in the grass.
"Ow," he deadpans, placing a palm on the place the sneaker had just bounced from. "Geez, how hard can you throw?"
"Hard," you snark, wrestling your pants up your wet legs. Eventually, by the grace of whatever existential forces may exist, you managed to pull the denim up and over your hips.
You're zipping up your fly when Ashley and Larry finally appear.
"Dude," Larry gasps like he's been sprinting, bending to place his hands on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. "Dude."
You and Sal stare at him curiously.
"There was a-a homeless guy!"
Ashley's laughing hysterically, and Larry doesn't evaluate, so Sal asks for context. "You're gonna have to evaluate, Larry. What do you mean there was a homeless guy?"
"Some dude was living in the woods! Had a whole fuckin' setup! I'm pretty sure he was cooking meth?!"
Sal just blinks repeatedly, like he was astounded, and couldn't believe that this was happening right now. "Did you guys bother him?"
"No," Ashley wheezes. "As soon as we saw him we bounced."
You're slipping on your shoes when Sal speaks again. "Yeah, maybe we should go..."
Larry finally stands up straight and starts up the slope, running his hands through his brown hair that's been messed while running. "Then in the name of the Lord, let's fucking get out of here."
You keep the seating arrangement you'd had on the way to the lake—girls in the front, boys in the back.
As soon as every door of the Ford Fiesta is shut, and the car becomes alive once again, the heat is immediately turned up. You breathe out a sigh of relief, leaning your head back against the headrest and allowing the hot air to blow against the cold flesh of your neck and shoulders. Your thoughts wandered as total relief washed over your body.
"Your jeans are dry," Ashley comments idly, startling you out of your reverie.
You hear what sounds like a laugh quickly concealed by a faux cough emanate from the backseat.
"Yeah," you reply dumbly. Ash stares at you, probably expecting you to say something else, but your mind goes blank, so she doesn't ask any further questions.
"Did I say he had no pants on?!" Larry suddenly blurts, clearly still mildly traumatized. "Everything was- it was just hanging out!"
Ashley cringes. "Don't put that image back into my mind, Larry."
"It wouldn't be the first person half-naked at Wendigo," Sal quips, locking eyes with you in the rearview mirror. No one questions his statement, most likely taking it as a reference to the infamous chaotic nature of that whole area—but you understand, sending him a contemptuous squint.
Ashley loops the car around to the exit path and it isn't very long before the vehicle is back on the road.
As heat sinks into your skin, reaches your cold bones, and the excitement slows down—your thought process de-thaws. You stare out of the window, watching the streetlights as they pass and listening to the sound of an acoustic guitar on the radio.
The music grows louder and drones in your ears. It's not even an electric guitar, but you still think of Sal, and his bruised fingertips. You twist his ring on your finger, running your opposite thumb over the heart-shaped indentations of the band.
Your mind wanders again. You think of that day in the storage room at the school, and that night in his father's car.
Eventually, you'd return the favor. You wanted him to feel as good as he'd made you feel. You owed it to him—and twice over.
But you'd have to wait. Patience was key—and all locked doors needed them.
My Dark Knight
A Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot
Word Count: 2.5K
Warnings: Explicit Language (I think? I don't fuckin' remember.)
Author's Note: The only cringe I got from this story was the title. It's so fucking cheesy bruh. Enjoy! -Thorne
Bruce was a mystery to her. The longer she dated him, the more she realized the image he projected was a cover, hiding the real man underneath. One time they’d gone on a date to the new escape rooms that had been built in Gotham, and the entire time they’d been inside, she could tell the person she’d gone in with, was not the same person locked in with her. His eyes had narrowed as he scanned the room, sometimes lingering on certain items placed around. She watched him for a moment, then his eyes met hers, and he immediately grinned, eyes losing their hardness, taking on a mirthful appearance. “Find anything to start with?” he’d asked her, then followed up with, “I don’t even know where to start.” She might’ve fallen off the back of a wagon, but it sure as hell wasn’t last night.
She handed him a slip of paper, observing how his mood shifted once more, turning solemn as he read it. It baffled her to no end, wondering why someone like him would become so serious and concerned at times. The image he projected to Gotham was the model of billionaire-playboy, something that he played well; other times he acted goofy, giving Gotham the loveable-goober, they exasperatedly appreciated. But what got to her the most, was how solemn he would become. It would happen at random times, and though she would never admit it, it took her a God awful, embarrassingly long amount of time to realize it occurred when police sirens would sound.
They lay on her couch, (Y/N)’s back pressed up against his chest as they stretched their legs out in front of them. A good meal and a few glasses of wine had them cuddled up and laughing about the most random things.
She held the magazine up, showing him the cover. “That’s a good picture of you.” He hummed in amusement, listening as she said, “You’ve got that little half-smirk on your lips.” She turned her head, seeing the same smirk looking back at her. “I like it.”
His eyes filled with mirth as he leaned forward, gently pulling the magazine from her hands. He let it flutter to the floor and (Y/N) let out a small laugh as he started pressing kisses to her cheek and neck. “Bruce Wayne, you’re a scoundrel.” The hum he returned was quiet, but it was an answer to her all the same.
A moment later, his lips had stilled against her skin, pulling her from the moment she was in and causing confusion. “Bruce?” She craned her neck, trying to see him. “Is everything alright?” (Y/N) caught his eyes, seeing him staring silently out the window.
Seconds later, a police cruiser passed by, blue lights blazing as her eyes darted to catch it. Something in his eyes worried her and she rested a hand along his jaw, coercing his gaze to hers. “It’s probably nothing…just plain old, Gotham crime.”
When he finally looked at her, his eyes still carried their sharpness, and while it concerned her, it didn’t truly become understandable until a few days later.
She hadn’t met the rest of his children, only Tim from the times she’d visited the office; the two seemed to get along well, their backgrounds being similar, and she developed a mothering fondness for the boy; he didn’t seem to mind being doted on by her either.
(Y/N) stepped through the doors to his office, seeing his son sitting at his desk. “Hi Timmy. You look like you’re having a busy day?”
He glanced up from the laptop, giving her a smile. “Hey Miss (Y/N).” He looked back down. “It’s not too bad…meeting days usually aren’t.” He paused, eyes meeting hers once more. “Are you here for Bruce?”
She nodded, stepping closer to his desk. “He texted saying he was in a meeting and that he’d be done around eleven-thirty.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Mind if I impose for a few minutes?”
Tim returned her smile in kindness, shaking his head. “Not at all. In fact, I could use your help organizing.”
(Y/N) nodded, moving beside his desk. As she gathered his files, a certain ring binder caught her eye, and she tapped it. “This doesn’t look like the usual files you boys have…what it is?”
Tim glanced at it, voice dropping as he admitted, almost bashfully, “Oh that’s…a personal binder…I forgot I’d brought it here.” He reached over, flipping it open, and (Y/N) took in the sight of hundreds of photos of the Dark Knight and his partners.
She took a seat on the arm of his chair, gazing at them; one photo caught her eye, and she pointed it out. “That one.”
Tim stopped trying to flip the page, looking at the photo. “What about it?”
(Y/N) stared at the image of Batman standing on the ledge. The picture wasn’t as clear as she’d like, and it was a bit far, but she could see a familiar smirk on his face.
Tim’s eyebrows furrowed and he asked, “(Y/N)? Are you okay?”
She blinked, smile appearing on her face as she nodded. “I’m fine…just in thought for a moment.” She gestured to the picture. “Do you think you could make a copy of that for me?”
He nodded, albeit confused, picking up a few of the pages, murmuring, “I’ve got better photos of him in here. Clearer ones.”
(Y/N) shook her head, pointing at the photo. “I want that one.”
Tim shrugged, pulling the photograph from the plastic slip before moving to the printer. A moment later, he took a copy of the photo from the top, handing to her, watching as she folded it and tucked it away in her purse.
“Any reason why it was that photo?”
As she opened her mouth to respond, the door to the office opened, and Bruce appeared in the entry. He smiled at her. “(Y/N).”
She rose from the chair, putting the purse strap on her arm; she glanced down at Tim and whispered, “I’m a big fan of Batman when he doesn’t look like he’s angry at the world.” Tim snorted, and she moved to Bruce, placing a hand on his arm. “Hi Bruce.” The two waved at the teenager before leaving for lunch.
A few hours later, she sat on her couch, staring between the photograph and the magazine. Her eyes rested on the photo, then she slowly drug them to the magazine and she sighed, “There’s no way…I’m just imagining this.” Apprehensively, she picked up the marker, moving it to his face on the magazine. “He’s not Batman…he’s not Batman…”
She colored in the top half of his face, then added two ears and breathed, “Oh holy mother of God…He’s the Batman.” (Y/N) held the magazine and photo side by side, disbelief in her gaze as understanding flooded her thoughts. Before she knew it, she was rising from the couch, making her way to the front door.
She pulled up to the manor and climbed the steps, knuckles rapping against the door as she waited. The door opened, revealing the butler; he was surprised to see her but quickly recovered. “Miss (Y/N). We weren’t expecting you tonight.”
(Y/N) flashed a smile and responded, “I know…I’m sorry for showing up at late notice but…I need to speak to Bruce.”
He nodded, letting her inside. “Master Bruce is in his room, but you’re welcome to wait in the living room while I fetch him.”
(Y/N) hummed, following him into the room. He left her standing by the couch, his sons sitting there, eyes wide as they looked at her.
She waved at them. “Hi boys…Hi Tim.”
He waved back at her, then his other sons rose from the couch, extending their hands. “Dick Grayson, I’m the oldest.”
She shook it, smiling, then took the other’s hand. “Jason Todd, I’m second oldest.”
(Y/N) dropped his hand, glancing at the younger boy who was glaring at her. “From what Bruce described, you must be Damian.”
He glared at her. “How much is he paying you to be his escort?”
Jason reacted immediately, turning to the boy. “Oi!”
(Y/N) simply smiled and returned, “Probably about as much as he paid your mom to be his.”
Damian’s eyes widened in shock as his mouth went slack, obviously not expecting such a sharp comeback.
She knelt to his height and gently closed his mouth. “You’ll catch flies, sweetheart.” She stood back up, smiling as Bruce walked into the living room.
“(Y/N)? Is everything alright? Did something happen?”
She turned, looking at him. “Uh…sort of?” She paused, then murmured, “Kinda had a lifechanging revelation at my place about twenty minutes ago.” His eyes filled with confusion, then she revealed, “You’re him…you’re Batman, aren’t you?”
The room went silent as her words hit each of them, and she watched the billionaire persona fall away as The Dark Knight appeared. “…How’d you find out?”
(Y/N) swallowed thickly, the weight of his gaze beginning to make her nervous; she wrung her hands, voice quiet. “I didn’t until tonight…with a little help from a photo and a magazine…” She paused, then said, “You’re really him, aren’t you?” She glanced at the boys. “And they’re…them. Nightwing…Red Hood…Red Robin…Robin.”
Her gaze turned back to him. “You guys are the Batfamily.”
Bruce stared at her a moment, then walked past her murmuring, “Follow me.”
She obeyed, walking behind him into the study. Bruce twisted the hands of the clock, then a doorway appeared; he took her hand, leading her down the darkened stairway. When they got to the bottom, he led her to a wall of suits.
They stood in front of it, and she watched his stare turn almost sad as he looked at them. “…I was going to tell you in time.” He glanced over at her. “It looks like you beat me to it.”
(Y/N) looked away, frown crossing her lips as she apologized, “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to take that right from you.”
Bruce’s hand tightened around hers, and she looked back up at him. “You did take that right from me.” He eyed her, that smirk crossing his lips as he quipped, “But I know ways that you can make it up to me.”
(Y/N) huffed in disbelief, letting go of his hand. “You scoundrel.”
His smirk grew as he rounded on her, hands taking hold of her hips. “Oh, I’m not a scoundrel.”
She laughed as he pressed her against the glass suit holder. “You are a scoundrel and if you want me to make it up to you…” (Y/N) pointed to one of the suits. “Let me try that on and I will.”
Bruce chuckled, leaning close, his breath on her lips as he purred, “Where’s the point in that? It’ll just get taken off.”
(Y/N) glanced over at the case, then back to him, and begged, “But I really wanna try the suit on.” She curled her hands in his sweater, pleading with him. “Please Bruce? Just for a couple minutes?”
He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Do you really want to try the suit on?”
(Y/N) nodded fervently, hands patting his chest as she spoke excitedly. “And the belt. I wanna wear the utility belt.”
After watching her for a moment, he relented, and a few minutes later, she stood in the center of the cave, the suit barely fitting on her.
(Y/N) pulled the cowl on, eyes searching the cave until she found him; she grinned, pulling a deep voice as she posed. “I’m Batman.” Bruce let out a deep sigh through his nose and she asked, “How many times have you heard people do that?”
He grunted. “Too many.”
She smiled, walking over to him. “I just want you to know that this is badass, but this thing also weighs a ton.” (Y/N) rested her chin against his chest, staring at him. “You’re very strong, Bruce.”
He stared back at her, countering, “Tell me something I don’t know.”
(Y/N) took a deep breath, thumbs sticking under the cowl as she pulled it off; she gently took his hands, caressing the back of them, and murmured, “…I love you.” His eyes widened and she squeezed his hands, reiterating, “I love you, Bruce.”
He seemed to hesitate in his answer, but she didn’t mind, letting go of his hands in favor of wrapping her arms around him. “You don’t have to say it back yet…I know it’s early.” (Y/N) leaned into him, pressing her lips to his cheek. “But I just want you to know that I do…” She pulled away, steel-blue eyes following her as she did.
She waited for him, then he took her hand and muttered, “…I’m not an easy man to understand.”
(Y/N) smiled, gently shaking her head. “I’ve got all the time in the world to understand.”
He swallowed, meeting her eyes. “Most of my time is directed to—” Bruce gestured to the cave. “This…I don’t know if I can offer you what you want.”
(Y/N) brought his hand up to her face, pressing kisses to his palm. “Your love is all I could ever want…my Dark Knight.”
Before he could respond, a scoff sounded by the stairs followed by a voice, griping, “My Dark Knight. How original.”
The two pulled back, and she watched Bruce reach down, plucking something from the utility belt around her waist. He pulled away and chucked it towards the stairs, then a yelp sounded. “That hurt, old man!”
Bruce grinned, wrapping his arms around (Y/N). “Good. I meant for it to.”
Laughter followed, then his sons came into view, and Tim quipped, “So, we’re not lobotomizing her for figuring out our secret?”
(Y/N)’s eyes widened, but Bruce’s arms tightened around her waist as he denounced, “Not the best joke, Tim.
He pointed finger guns at her. “Sorry (Y/N)…just kidding.”
She let out a laugh that seemed more forced than not. “I would hope so.” (Y/N) cleared her throat, pulling away from Bruce’s arms. “I should probably change out of this now.”
As she took a step, a siren sounded from the Batcomputer, making them look towards it; Bruce looked back at the boys and nodded. “Go.”
Each of them moved, and she waited for them to come back. When they did, the boys passed by, giving waves and smiles (even Damian), until all that remained was her and Bruce. She stared at him, seeing him in his suit up close for the first time.
(Y/N) inhaled deeply, tracing the symbol on his chest. “Well…go save Gotham, Batman.”
A small smile crossed his lips, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. As he pulled away, Bruce murmured, “I’ll be back soon.”
She nodded. “Be careful…you and the boys…please.”
Bruce gave a quick nod, then walked off. He got a few feet away, then turned around, gazing at her. “(Y/N)?” She glanced at him and he confessed, “I love you too.”
cater to you.
summary: there’s nothing like good love on a very bad day.
pairing: andy barber x woc!reader
notes: i have something else in the works for you all right now, but i wrote this little thing for @adorecevans after she had a bad day this week (love you dalia!) and wanted to share with you too! slight au in that andy is very recently out of law school and reader is still a student - we love a law school romance!
warnings: meal skipping ( stress / schedule-induced ), stressed out reader, hurt/comfort, fluff
He’s already home when you get there, a lo-fi jazz song from Spotify playing as you duck in. He only plays that kind of music when he’s cooking and a moment’s pause fills your nostrils with the telltale scents of spice to confirm the suspicion: Andy’s making dinner.
You try to do that once or twice a week when your busy schedules -- law school for you, his first firm gig post graduation for him -- allow you to, and usually, coming home to it fills your chest with something warm.
Today, though, the smell just makes you nauseous; reminds you that, despite the late hour, you haven’t really had time to get more than a few bites of a decent meal. That reminds you of the day’s drain and your shoulders sink as you kick off your boots and shrug off your snowy coat.
The sound of you in the closet catches his attention in the kitchen, and Andy rounds the corner with a half-grin to greet you. “Hey baby,” he hums, wiping his hands down on a kitchen towel. “You just get in?”
You just nod, humming half-distracted as you get everything in the closet in order. You don’t think you’re showing much, but the lack of eye contact alone is enough to tip him off: you’re usually locked in whenever anyone talks to you. Still, he waits, patient, for you to have the space to do that ritual; get your head right before he presses. Then, warm hands find your hips under the wool of your coziest sweater, pulling you in close for a hug. The embrace is simple, but pointed - he squeezes you in a way that lets you know that he knows and the tenderness of his wordless care makes your heart tighten.
God, you love this man.
You don’t have much energy - emotional or otherwise - to hug him back, but it doesn’t stop you from clinging to him, fingers slipping up his sweater to cling to the shirt underneath and feel his grounding warmth.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he hums against your hair, “but I want you to go take some time first. Go shower, and I’ll bring you something warm. Then we’ll eat.”
You look up at him wordlessly, gratitude shining in tears along your waterline, and Andy smiles in return, leaning down to kiss you hard, but not forcefully, before he lets you go in the direction of your bedroom.
You dread most routines when you feel like this, but time in the shower isn’t one of them. The warm water over your body and hair feels as much like coming home as one of Andy’s hugs, and you spend more time than you intend in there, fingers scrubbing your scalp and skin to wash the day away. Every now and then, you can hear Andy pop in; once to set a mug in arm’s reach so you can pull it onto the shower’s ledge, another time to leave you fresh towels and your PJs. He doesn’t say much or even ask how you are, not wanting to rush you; but the cool air from outside reminds you that he’s only a call away, and is waiting for you to be ready.
That feeling - that readiness - doesn’t come for a bit longer; forty-five minutes or so, in fact, when you emerge from the shower, not better, but getting there. Your head doesn’t feel nearly as heavy and the urge to cry is tapered. Slipping into your new set of clothes helps the feeling, the cotton warm to the touch in a way that makes you beam: he’d thrown them in the dryer to get them toasty.
Andy has a knack for things like that - it’d been shocking when you first started dating as not many prospective lawyers from the East Coast have a heart that big. But, now, it’s clockwork; as certain as the sun in the sky, his love is a safety net you know you can come back to when everything else rages out of your control.
As if on cue, he appears in the doorway, kitchen towel over one shoulder as he smiles at you. “Any better,” he asks softly, leaning his weight against the doorjamb to watch you.
“A little,” you offer with a small smile, winding a towel around your shoulders to catch the water from your hair. With your curls washed through, you need to take some time to work product in - one of the best and most calming parts of the routine. But, it won’t be quick, especially right now, and you relent with eyes shifting towards Andy thoughtfully. “You don’t have to wait for me on dinner, you know… this’ll take a bit.”
His nose scrunches up as if in disgust; he can’t believe you’d even suggest it. “Don’t worry about that - ‘ve been stealing a few bites while I cook. I’ll survive.” He presses off the doorframe to close the distance, hands moving up to squeeze your shoulders from behind once he’s close enough. “What’s more important is that you eat, sweetheart --- let me help so we can get you settled in with a plate, hm?”
The offer would make you nervous with anyone else; but Andy, diligent as ever, had gotten into a habit of watching you with your hair, picking up on the things that you do to treat it, style it, wash it. He’s only helped a few times before, but it’s always gone well, and tonight, you could use the extra love. The fingers in your scalp, soothing and focused. The kisses to the back of your neck every time he finishes a section. The soft rumble in his chest, inches from your back, when he hums to whatever song you’ve played to set the tone. For the second time that night, you feel your heart about to burst, and have to push down a rise of tears from the surge of love and emotion.
“I’d really like that.”
could I request where Kirby asks y/n to move in but it leads to a big fight because she isn’t sure she is ready so they spend like a couple days a part but they realize they need each other then it ends with fluff/smut for the ifhy series. Sorry if this is horrible lol
word count: 2.2k
warnings: swearing, angst, but then cuteness. whatever you know you love me
ifhy masterlist // request a blurb!
there’s a fine line between love and hate. you two knew that, really well. when it came to you two, the fine line came between jokingly arguing, and real frustration.
from the day you met kirby, he loved to tease you. he even went as far as cutting your hair, letting the air out of one of your tires, and filling oreos with toothpaste. you weren’t a saint either, though. from the apple juice/pee fiasco, to the pantsing in front of his middle school crush, to the “accidental” thanksgiving stabbing, you knew how to push his buttons right back.
but tonight, you both went too far.
"this living together might be a bad idea," kirby laughs as you steal a pillow from his side.
you snort. "living together?"
"i mean, this is a king you'd think you'd have enough space and pillows," he says, gesturing to the mattress.
you freeze. he was serious? “wait, you want me to move in with you?”
he shrugs next to you in his bed. the pillows looked so plush underneath his arms folded behind his head, his skin was perfectly flushed from the warmth of the weighted blanket. “you’re here all the time already, what’s the difference?”
you sit up in the bed, folding your arms across your front. “we’re barely 20, kirby.”
his eyebrows furrow at the use of his full name. “we’ve been dating for 2 years,” he says with a confused laugh. “don’t you feel like it’s about time?”
“no, it feels like i’m a junior in college trying to finish a degree.”
“i’m not asking you to drop out, babe. your lease is about to expire anyway."
"and me and em were going to renew it," you enunciate.
kirby looks at you incredulously. "you seriously don't want to live together,"
"that doesn't mean never, just not right now!"
"can i ask why?" he's getting exasperated, which is annoying you.
"why not?" he's stunned by the answer.
"god, you're making this a thing when it was just something in passing i said. and what about emily, anyway? where would she live?"
your stomach is sizzling. you're flustered, a little bit embarrassed, but overall, getting emotional. and after 2 years of trusting him with your whole heart, it was still hard to let him see you crack. so you grit your jaw.
"y'know what, maybe i need to stop coming over so much then."
you don't know what possessed you to say it. you don't mean it, you don't particularly want to leave. but now you can't stop.
"i'm gonna go home i think." and with that, you slide out the bed, slipping on his your hoodie.
"this is so stupid," he mutters from the bed, making you even sadder. you were so humiliated that you made something out of nothing, and now he thought you were being dramatic. and somewhere along that way, the sadness turned into anger.
"no yeah. i am gonna come over less, i think it's much needed."
"y/n, what are you-"
"i'm here all the time, and if we even go out, it's always going out as y/n and kirby. never just me!"
"is that a problem? you wanna be around me, thats good with me," he counters.
you scoff in annoyance. "i think i could go a few days without seeing you. it wouldn't kill me,"
that hurt him. it really, really hurt him. sure you could go a while without seeing him, you've done it enough because of hockey. but that doesn't mean you should, or that you would. "really?"
you nod stubbornly, grabbing your bag and phone. you stuff your feet into the birkenstocks you wore over, and snatch your car keys out your pocket.
"yes. you think i couldn't?"
"it'd be hard."
another scoff from you. "for you,"
"you know it would be hard for you too."
"i don't. and that's why i'll see you sunday."
"what? it's tuesday!"
"sure is." you nod. "goodnight kirby."
you leave quickly, closing the door behind you sternly. he lay stunned in his bed, hurt by your words but more by your actions. he shouldn't have let you go, he should've gotten up and fought for you to stay. but why didn't you want to take this step with him? what was missing for you?
little did he know, you were questioning yourself just the same way. why was this such a hard topic for you? what was holding you back? what was missing for you?
he didn't think you were serious. to be honest, you weren't sure you were either. but when 2 days past and you didn't so much as text him good morning or goodnight, or reach out when he called you after 24 hours of radio silence, he was faced with the sad reality that yes, you were serious.
the fact that you were stubborn was original something he really liked about you. you never took his bullshit, always stood up for yourself and others. but you also never admitted when you were wrong. you could take things too far, almost to where there was no turning back.
he wasn't doing well without you. it was harder to sleep without you next to him, let alone not even hearing goodnight from you. he was more irritable, that was certain, and people were getting the brunt of it. press conferences were snappier than normal, and murph checked him on it a few times. adam and alex noticed something was wrong too, especially when you didn't show up to the bar on that friday alongside your boyfriend.
"where's y/n/n?" nyls finally asked.
kirby grimaces. "busy."
they share a look before adam tries this time. "everything okay with you two?"
he hesitates. he wants to tell them everything, but it feels too painful still. too real.
"please tell me you two didn't break up," alex gasps.
"what? no! no, we didn't-no," kirby jolts. "she thinks we can't go a while without seeing each other, i disagreed, so now she's ignoring me."
"i talked to her about moving in." the guys share an 'ohhhh,' lowly.
"well, let us know if you need anything." adam concludes, not wanting to push the boy after he sees how tight he's holding the beer bottle in his left grip.
they sit down and get comfortable, but adam still keeps an eye on kirby. he was hoping that miraculously, one of you would come to your senses before it was too late.
your phone rang that saturday morning early. like, 7 am early. you groggily turned over to pick it up, not even stopping to see who it was because your phone was on do not disturb, which meant it had to have been someone on your favorites list to bypass a mute.
"you know, i kind of thought that you'd be the only person on this earth to never piss me off," the voice tuts. you quirk an eyebrow as you register who it is.
"good morning, sweetheart." she says bitterly.
you're not sure what's going on, or why she said what she said when you first picked up, so you remain silent.
"why is my biggest brother a moping mess right now?"
your stomach plummets. of course she would notice something was up, and of course she'd hate you if she knew why you were in your own bed, and not his on a saturday morning.
"cal, it's not-"
"he loves you so much, you like, know that right? as in, will never shut the hell up about you, which normally would be fine with me because i love you dearly but god, i think i know everything about you at this point."
"i do know that, and i love him."
"so why did you say that? why are you trying to prove you can live without him?" she was mad at you. extremely mad. and it was all justified, because these last few days might have been some of your worst in a while. but your mouth moved faster than your mind, and now you said things you regretted.
"i don't know why i said that. i was scared,"
"of becoming dependent, callie! of needing him for everything, not being able to stand on my own two feet!" your eyes are scrunched closed, and your breathing quickens. the insecurities were coming out finally, and callie takes a deep sigh to collect herself once she realized this was a deeper issue, not just a petty argument.
"y/n/n, i've loved you like a sister for longer than kirby's even been nice to you," she starts. "i get these are big steps. i really do, but this? isn't making any sense at all. you're both miserable, you didn't even call last night!"
fuck, you forgot friday night facetime.
"oh shit, cal i'm so-"
"blah blah i don't care about an excuse. what i do care about is you, and my brother, and how much you love each other. and how stupid both of you are. he told my mom he's staying in all day today, so please, just go over and kiss him before i intervene."
you take her last sentiments to be more playful than mad at you now. "and how would you intervene, baby dach?"
"y/n l/n do not make me come kick your ass."
kirby's annoyed when he hears a knock on the door. no one was expected to come over, he was hoping to wallow in the bed until tomorrow, when you said you'd finally speak to him again. so when the knock comes back, even louder, he groans.
"i'm fucking coming!"
his breath hitches when he yanks the door open and sees you there. you looked really tired, kinda disheveled, and a little nervous. but it was still you, and he still thought you were the most beautiful sight to be seen.
"hi," you say plainly.
"hi." he replies. he's nervous too.
"i um, owe you an apology. lots of them."
he ushers you inside and you immediately go to the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows and clutching it in your lap. he joins you, but keeps a level of distance.
"you scared me." you blurt. he looks up at you from where he was picking at his fingers. "when you were talking about moving in, that scared the living shit out of me. making that big leap, starting an actual life together, it's a lot. and i'm scared."
"do you think we couldn't handle it?"
you shake your head negatively. "i think you could."
operative word, you.
"i think that i'd lose myself a little bit if we did it this fast. i know, it's been a while of us dating. but i just, fuck, kirby. i see my whole fucking future with you!"
"y/n, babe, i still don't see anything bad about this."
"i see me going to your games. traveling with you. having a little tyke on skates by the age of 2. but i don't see my job, my social life, any of that."
his heart plummets. "oh." is all he says.
"yeah. i just think school is getting tougher and i need to get tougher with it. i need to grow up and be me, you know? not just y/n and kirby, but y/n."
it's silent for a little while, and you're afraid you talked too much. it was the truth, but maybe it was too much for him at once. but then, he pipes up.
"i want that for you."
your watery eyes meet his as he continues. "i don't want to pressure you at all. i want you to become a successful ass lawyer, who has a kick ass friend group and i'm your stay at home retired husband after his hopefully long and amazing career." you laugh at that.
"i just want to be in your life as long as you let me. these 3 days of not hearing from you, i've never felt this sick in my life."
"me too oh my god, i'm so stupid. i'm sorry honey, i really am. dunno what i was thinking but-"
"don't. it's behind us," he says, grabbing your hands. you let out a shaky breath as you nod, and he purses his lips at your demeanor.
"c'mere," he mutters, pulling you into his lap. you curl up against him, the warmth of his hoodie clad chest welcoming you back.
"i still feel like shit for the way i talked to you,"
"it's okay," he affirms.
kirby sighs. "she yelled?"
"reprimanded might be a more accurate word."
that makes him laugh, which makes you laugh too. his hand curls around yours still, your fingers intertwining as you soak up his presence once again.
"i'm really lucky to have you," you mumble. he smiles at kisses the top of your head.
"i'm even luckier, babe. you're my person, you know that."
"my person indeed," you smile back. he places a gentle kiss on your lips and wipes the tears out the corners of your eyes.
you stay wrapped in him, and he holds you, for hours. you fell asleep before he did, but seeing you so peaceful in his lap, finally back with him again, felt like everything was finally right again. he had his person back in his world, and that was more than enough for now, and for a while.
Never Again || Thomas Shelby x reader
credits to @saralou23 for the gif
Anon requested/summary: “can I request a fic where the reader is found unconscious or faints in the shop or something and tommy freaks out? I just find protective tommy so ❤️💓💟!! Thank you, your writing is absolutely INCREDIBLE” (Thank you so much honeybun, you’re making me blush, pls, forgive me for being late ❤️)
Warnings: swearing, bossy Tommy, basically Tommy freaking out and being overprotective, me always loving him with all of my mangled soul
I hope you are okay darlings, I love you, please stay safe ♡
I’m so sorry for being this late, I have no excuses, forgive me. Also the end sucks, but I’m struggling with my writing lately, so, sorry again.
I love protective Thomas so much, he’s an ass, but he’s a softie, and I’m gonna lose my mind some day.
Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡
If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me
I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong
Birmingham’s gelid air hit your sensitive skin with no mercy as soon as your red mary-janes crossed the doorway of the Garrison, only to disgracefully sink into the greyish muddy loam in which the whole of Small Heath seemed to be covered.
Your fingers felt like rigid appendages burdening your already wearied arms, while you tried your best to wrap them around your coat’s edges, in a disperate effort to keep that warm tissue on your bulging clavicles left exposed by the woollen dress you were wearing.
No matter how many heavy clothes you decided to put on, that implacable cold still succeeded in making you feel constantly out of forces, debilitated to the core; it had always been that way, since you were nothing more than a little girl obliged to spend one every two months confined in your bedroom, afflicted by incredibly high fever and sometimes even bronchitis.
Truth was that your body had never got used to England’s humid weather, yet, even though you poor healt had previously put you in danger, for your sake, thanks to the enormous progresses made by medicine in the past fifteen years, it was now easy to fight against the ruthless chill of those endless winters.
Plus, since the earliest days of your attendence, your wardrobe had been perpetually refreshed with high-quality pieces perfectly in step with the times, for your fiancée had been literally covering you in furs and duvets of all kinds, concerned as he was that you could’ve eventually caught another bad fever, whose deathly consequences he had already experienced on his own thick skin. And for no reason in the world he would’ve even risked to lose you too.
So, as everybody could’ve easily predicted, Thomas was perennially paying attention to your wellbeing: the most famous specialists from inside and outside the United Kingdom had come directly to your country house; if one thing could be taken for granted, it was that your medications would always be settled on your side cabinet, together with a glass of fresh water, every day and every night; and, come hell or high water, he would accompany you during your routine visits to the hospital, even when it meant leaving all of his business without any prior warning.
Needless to say, you were perfectly able to do those things on your own -pheraps except for getting a crowd of world renowned doctors in your living room- and you sure as hell had tried to persuade him that there was no need at all for being so preoccupied all the time; still, he was Tommy Shelby, he simply couldn’t help it.
The concern for his loved ones’ lives kept stealing his sleep, even on those nights when there was no trace of imminent dangers on the horizon, it kept excoriating the insides of his drained brains, to the point that, more than once, you’d had to sleep alone in your immense king-size bed or reach for him in his study, curling up on one of his uncomfortable armchairs, ready to appease his fears as best you could. In short, for as much as you needed him to relax, you were still able to understand his protective behavior, against which, as a matter of fact, no one could do much; thus you at least tried not to give him more reasons to be worried by paying some extra attention to all those small things you could solve without Tommy even knowing about it. Regularly taking your iron tablets, for example.
Nonetheless, it had now been already a week since the Peaky Blinders had started a brand new business involving in effect every metalworking factory in and around Birmingham, and the whole family, you and Tom included, had been so turbulently tied up with work to let every other thought and need slither on the back burner. As a direct consequence, your doctor’s latest prescription was unfortunately left lying on the bottom of your drawer, that being the fourth day in a row you’d spent without taking those pills, and, even though everything appeared to be going well until then, that one Thursday morning your period eventually came and stroke the fatal blow, having you feel so faint and aching that, all of a sudden, the few metres separating your side of the street from the betting shop seemed to implausibly dilate right under your blurred vision, a vexing sense of nausea assaulting your empty stomach led you to lean against a lamppost, your skin still crawling beneath all those heavy tissues.
Dizziness and lethargy almost took over your sore mind, before you shook your head with an abrupt move in a bid to dispel those unpleasent sensations; clients would’ve arrived in less than a hour, Esme had taken John’s kids on a brief fieldtrip, Michael was already in his office, the boys were making their usual rounds of the mills, Finn and Isaiah were dealing with a couple folks in need back at the Garrison and Polly was nowhere in sight, which made you the only available blinder for the opening and, with Friday’s race approaching, there was no way the box-office could remain shut.
Hence, more determined than ever, you chocked down the knot forming in your throat due to queasiness and just forced youself to put one foot in front of the other onto the dusty road, until you reached the shop door, not without the risk of tripping over multiple times in the process. Your frozen fingers clutched to the small side-wall now carring all of your weight, whilst your lungs tried to let in as much air as possible. And it worked, each plodding breath seemed to fight your sickness, also your heartbeat was gradually slowing down, thus you shut your eyelids and continued to inhale deeply for a full minute, before your trembilng hand managed to finally turn the key in the lock, giving you free access to the place.
However, the small click produced by the latch closing again did not live to reach your ears, for they were already brimful of ominous hisses, in a scant moment a bulk of hypnotic grey worms prevented you from seeing anything else, they relentlessly squirmed in front of your dilated pupils, that repulsing view sending brutal shooks straight to your clenched stomach, again. And, before you even had a chance to realize what was going on, your brain completely blacked out.
~ ~ ~
Words would not be sufficient to describe the fright taking over Arthur’s features the second your inert silhouette entered his line of sight.
Just returned from their daily patrol, he had indeed noticed a small crowd waiting outside the office, cursing and fussing because of the lacked opening, and that alone had been weird enough for him to punch and kick his way up to the entrance, profanities spilling from his mustached mouth every time somebody’s elbow digged into his ribcage, inducing him to hit back so to stand his ground, only to eventually find himself powerless in front of that ghastly scene. It took him a while to recover from the shock, yet the eldest Shelby eventually regained control of his limbs and moved towards your shape with a single step.
“Polly! Pol, come here, for God’s sake!”
Those hoarse yells filled the room, reverberating through the brickwalls, so loud that they could’ve been heard from the other side of the city, Arthur fell on his knees right beside you, gently placing a hand under your nape in order to lift your head. Blind panic streaming in his veins kept him for thinking clearly, he didn’t know what to do, thus he simply shook you from your shoulders, hoping in vain to see your eyes fly back open, but your neck just bent backwards.
“Where the hell is that bloody woman when I need her?!” he grunted those words in between his teeth while tigthening his grip on you, then his chest raised in a sharp move: “Jesus Christ, Polly!”
He shouted once more, this time conveying all of his breath and blood towards his larynx, his abrasive voice shriveled and insisted on the last letters of his aunt’s name, until swift strides frantically hit the creaking steps, announcing Polly’s arrive. Her eyes struggled to remain open, her left palm was pressed against her forehead in a silly attempt to soothe the tremendous headache resulted from the previous night’s booze, she didn’t even have the time to put proper clothing on, since her mad niece was apparentely going berserk.
“You, son of a bastard-” cursed words died underneath her tongue when she understood what was going on, soon her feet took on a life of their own, as they picked up their peace, leading her next to your body now held in Arthur’s arms.
“She’s freezing, Pol, she’s a fucking chunk of ice!”
Hiccoughs shattered his worried cries, he almost whined, shifting his gaze from yours to Polly’s face over and over again, she, on the other hand, used the whole lenght of her right arm to clear in one smooth motion the closest desk.
“Quick, lay her here”
The deafening noise produced by those items colliding with the pavement barely grazed her hears, whilst she nodded to herself in the effort to impose some order on her obfuscated head, searching for a prompt solution that was late in coming, to the point that Finn beat it to the draw and stormed in, pointing a loaded gun to each corner of the room with fear in his cerulean irises.
“What the hell’s going on?”
That hysterical question echoed through the place, even though the young boy was finding it hard to get his breath, due to the crazy run he had made to reach the shop immediately after hearing that insane screaming.
Nonetheless, in the space of an instant, he saw you as well and fell utterly silent, violent dismay caught him off guard, his wide eyes hesitated on your motionless figure; all of a sudden he didn’t know what to think, nor he could get the thought of your death out of his brains.
“My God, she’s as pale as death”
Finn let his mind talk through that throttled murmur, regretting it right away, for silty goosebumps crawled on his skin under the pungent pressure of his brother’s instantaneous lethal glare.
“Don’t talk shit, kid! Just fucking go and get Tom!”
The redhead didn’t waste any time, he somehow managed to recollect his guts and steadily disappeared behind the door previously left open.
While struggling for air and internally searching for the right words to say in front of Thomas, Finn covered the whole distance between the office and the Garrison. Labored gasps coming out of his slightly parted lips in louder groans as he slammed the heavy pub’s doors open, using only his strongest shoulder; both Harry and Isaiah watched him run towards the back room where Tommy was going through the books, they did not dare spill a word and, after all, the boy didn’t even look in their direction, such was his concentration. Still, once he reached the place, all of a sudden his tongue felt dry, his well-organised speech faded away.
“Finn?! What’s wrong?”
Tom’s icy eyes were now staring at him through his round glasses, the paper he’d been reading was instantly dropped, although his tone remained steady.
“Y-you need to come, now! She... she’s-”
A frown formed upon Tommy’s marble face at his little brother’s furious rambling, something wasn’t right, that was crystal clear, yet he wasn’t able to keep up with those hasty and stuttered sentences, so he approached him, putting both his hands on Finn’s shoulders in order to give him a little shove and maybe get some decent information.
“Breathe, kid, and tell me what’s going on”
That deep, adamant tone somehow sounded scarier than usual roaring inside the boy’s head, hence anxiety definitively won him over, gaining complete control of his mouth too.
“It’s Y/n! I don’t fucking know, Tom, s-she looks dead!”
All at once, time and space seemed to collapse around him, one single second dilated, covering the space of a whole lifetime beyond his vacant blue irises now fixed on an undetermined spot of the white wall behind Finn’s back.
A gruesome, yet familiar sensation raided his petrified body, it felt like having a beast’s fangs gnawing his throat off, lacerating his flesh to the bone, he could sense every little laceration, his chest being plundered, till even his sable heart was eradicated and then mauled. A strangled wheeze barely lived through his plump lips, that being the only sound he uttered, then his black pupils shrinked and immediately twitched, nailing his sibiling’s gaze.
Without receiving an order from his brain, his fists violently gripped Finn’s jacket at the height of his biceps, bringing him a span away from his gnashed teeth with a sharp pull.
He snarled liked a rabid dog, striking, if possible, geater terror in the young man who struggled to spit an almost inaudible “The shop”, before being shoved against the doorframe as Tommy dodged him and rushed out.
~ ~ ~
Polly held the bottle of her almond parfume she’d just put under your nostrils as if her life depended on it, Arthur’s rough palm, instead, began to pat your pasty cheek.
“C’mon, love, wake up! Don’t play games, c’mon!”
The dorsum of that same hand now poking the left side of your face, and then going back to the other, at incredible speed.
You started to feel your face again when his nudges grew in intensity, until he was practically slapping you; soon a tremendous metallic taste invaded your mouth, or rather, you finally sensed it, whilst your eyelids battled against gravity to get back up.
Arthur noticed it, he detected that brief flinch and it felt like being pampered with a fresh breeze after days of unsustainable heat.
“Oh, fuck, I think I’m having a stroke”
His tone held extreme urgency as he grasped for air, tugging with two fingers at his shirt collar; sure, he was great at knocking people off, maybe the best, yet, unfortunately, after that he’d never tried to bring somenody back with the living.
Blinding light rended your shrouded eyes, everything appeared blurred to the point that you couldn’t distinguish Polly’s features, although she was right beside you; nor your hearing was working, since the loud thud produced by the wooden door hitting the brickwall, and then your name barked by your fiancée’s coarse voice, sounded muffled to your ears. With a superhuman effort you succeeded in tilting your face towards the entrance, you recognized the navy-blue suit Thomas had chosen to wear earlier in the moring, still those nebulous images reached your brains with extreme delay, it was like watching vague movie scenes stream in slow motion. Your eyelids blinked as if a plumbeous burden was anchored to them, each flutter seemed to last a full minute, so that you perceived Tom coming to you in multiple shattered motions, while he kept calling you.
The moment Tommy furiously jostled against Arthur, in order to take his place by the desk, you gradually went back to see and hear clearly, now being able to seize pure dread sailing those mesmerizing ocean eyes.
“Thank goodness, y/n”
His big palms envelopped both your cheeks, slightly squeezing them as he lift your neck, revealing all of his hidden delicacy that you, and you only, were able to bring out.
“Y/n, love, talk to me”
That order came out like a prayer, his voice betraying him once too often, his fingers shaking with worry, while one of his hands held your chin and the other went to caress your locks. Those loving strokes brushed against your skin, slowly infusing a little warmth into your gelid body, he touched you with the unbearable fear of watching you pass away in between his arms, having him struggle to breathe properly.
“Do you hear me?” a single, salty drop fell from his long eyelashes and poured your lower lip, you heard his voice crack, distorting, until it became nothing more than a faint whine: “Please, love, talk to me”
When his forehead pressed against yours, he finally gave in to the tears that had been held back with drastic ostination, shutting his eyes for a few instants he allowed brutal sobs to trounce his already aching chest. However, that moment of raw weakness was soon restrained, so that you returned to stare into his blue irises. Then, a small grin crossed your pale mouth and, even though your throat felt like gasoline on fire, preventing you from pronouncing a single syllable, you managed to guide your tiny hand to cup his sharp cheekbone.
A burning kiss was pressed on its dorsum, before Tommy completely leant into your touch, giving you a look halfway between relief and disperation, he covered your hand with his own, holding it tight.
“You’re okay, you’re safe”
Those soft murmurs escaped his lips, probably aimed to placate the axphyziating terror still intoxicating his veins. Indeed, as hard as it was to conceive for everybody in that room, although you were the one just recovering from a sudden collapse, Tommy was now the one trembling like a fallen leaf, his arms rested on each side of your shape, sustaining his weight, as he barely stood on his own two feet. Slowly, you regained the necessary strenght to lift your bust, leading him to flutter in your direction, promptly enlacing his forearms around your waist in order to support your movements.
“Hold onto me, darling, take it slow”
His raspy voice was still unsteady and full of concern, he was holding his breath out of fear, gazing at you with wide eyes and tightening the grip on your hips as if to make sure that you wouldn’t vanish in his palms. You, on the other hand, gave him a rassuring smile, caressing his face mutliple times and placing a brief kiss on his mouth.
“I’m fine, Tommy, I’m here with you” you eventually spoke close to his ear so to keep that conversation between the two of you “Let go, my love, I’m here”
Your lips accidentally brushed against his forehead once he listened to you and abandoned himself to your tender embrace, gradually drowning into your soft chest while his arms clung on to your figure, his fingertips almost piercing the thick material of your dress as your cheek covered his head, totally annihilating the distance.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again. Never again”.
tag list: @spidey-pal, @shadow-of-wonder, @stassaurus, @peachlle, @livvtheangel, @myjbphase, @namelesslosers, @crazyonesarethebest, @vxxn128, @keithseabrook27, @spaghettirogers, @writingstudent, @hp-hogwartsexpress , @eggingamazinglove, @geeksareunique, @cailoleaf, @simonsbluee , @hereforsmutandfluff, @starxtt, @jenepleurepasbaby, @staygold-bebold, @marvelschriss, @captivatedbycillianmurphy
Binary Sunset (AU post RotS, Beru Lars gets an unexpected visit and has to make a tough choice regarding her nephew)
“Who are you?”
Beru reared back, attempting to put as much distance as possible between herself whomever this thing was, staring her down with cold dead eyes.
“I have come for my son,” the figure said, its voice deep and monotone and distinctly male.
Glancing behind herself into the sleeping quarters of the homestead, she saw that the infant child was still asleep in his cradle. She made sure not to give away his location, but when she turned her attention back to the intruder, her heart was already sinking. He had not moved. In fact, he might have been taken for a statue, had it not been for the loud wheezing breaths of a respiratory device of some kind. The man bore a cape, as black as the uniform full body suit and armour covering him. It danced in the twilight wind, as the two suns glowed behind him like red orbs. Their intense heat seemed insignificant, compared to the burning hatred Beru could feel from the man’s covered eyes.
“I don’t know your son.”
“Is that so.”
His mask gave nothing away, stoic, resembling a human skull. His words seemed a statement, rather than a question, as if he was making a mental note of her defensiveness. Tall, broad shouldered, menacing. Beru hoped she came off as genuine, but when he took a step towards her, she felt the primal urge to run inside, grab the child and flee.
“There is a child in your sleeping quarters,” said the man, after a long, chilling silence despite the sunlight still spilling in orange hues over the sand dunes. “He is not yours.”
“He is!” Beru heard herself growl, shocked by how possessive she had become of the little one in such a short span of time. “He is mine!”
“He is not. You may have taken him in as next of kin, but he is not yours to claim.”
Beru clenched her jaw, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder at the cradle. He was still blissfully unaware, swept in a soft duvet as he cooed in his sleep. Even over the persisting hissing of the intruder’s breathing, she focused on the child.
Luke. Precious little Luke, destined for so much more than life as a poor moisture farmer. Face set hard, Beru made sure to place herself in the middle of the doorway, just outside the threshold. She would not back down, whatever that decision would entail. The ex-Jedi who had delivered him might have grander plans, plans this stranger might be involved with, but she wanted the boy safe. On Tatooine, if he was taught to fend for himself, to steer clear of Jawas, Tusken raiders and womp rats, he might become an ordinary young man some day. Without the mystical sorcery his father had fallen prey to luring him in.
“He is mine. We have adopted him, we are his only living relatives. He has no one else.”
Beru hoped she sounded genuine to the menace, hoped she was appealing to some sort of sympathy or compassion behind the threatening visage. When he spoke, his tone was even deeper than before, a rumble rivalling that of any fully grown krayt dragon.
“Do not lie to me,” he warned, and moved so suddenly Beru couldn’t help but gasp in mixed horror and startlement.
But all he did was raise one arm, letting the open palm hover midair, facing the woman’s face. She blinked, confusion seeping in - and then her head exploded from within. She flinched, as a sharp pain ground its way into her temples. The ache travelled down her spine, a loud ringing in her ears overpowering any senses as her vision went bright white - shutting out both the mysterious visitor and the binary sunset. She whimpered, her own hands flying up to cover her ears. She wanted to scream, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes as she thought what felt like an ice pick being drilled right through her brain.
And then, it was gone. As if it had never been there to begin with. Unable to control her sobs, her legs gave out beneath her and she sank to the ground. She panted, terrified of the man before her, of the agonizing headache returning. She could not explain it, but there was no doubt in her mind that the two were connected. The stranger had hurt her without laying a finger on her, if he was able to do that, what else was he capable of? If she had been wary before, now she was terrified.
“I - I am… not lying,” she managed to whisper, voice hoarse and unsteady.
“No. You are not.”
Surprisingly, the man agreed as he let his hand fall to his side. A wave of relief washed over Beru, but she was not prepared to build her hopes up that he may show her mercy and leave her and Luke alone. Luke needed to stay here, for his own safety. The Jedi had promised her he would keep them safe, and she had promised to love Luke as her own son. That meant defending him as if he were.
“You are not lying. You know only what Kenobi has taught you.”
Beru wiped her face with her sleeve as best she could, hoisting herself into an upright position with one hand pressed to the clay wall by her side. She clung to it for support, but through her watery eyes she saw that the stranger seemed more resolute, his stance more determined. She trembled, but stood her ground.
“I won’t speak of it. Not to you. Not to anyone. He warned us of strangers.”
“Kenobi is a liar and a traitor to the Empire, as are all Jedi. Would it be beneath an attempted murderer to lie?”
The stranger’s voice bore the same, mechanical character but it was sharper now, like a bark. Beru felt the hatred from before had returned, but didn’t seem to be directed at her. The way the man said ‘Kenobi’ revealed everything about whom the loathing was aimed at.
“I don’t understand,” the woman shook her head, cold sweat still soaking her forehead and she wiped her brow with her sleeve.
“He told you the child has no living relatives, did he not?”
Beru’s eyes widened, before suspicion crept back in. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, willing herself to restrain herself from shedding any more tears. Even though she was still breathless, still shivering, still afraid.
“I never said it was him,” she settled for, as her retort.
“I am warning you to play along, or I may need to apply different methods to assure your complacency,” was the reply, and the man raised his hand again.
The threat was enough, and Beru shook her head vehemently, arms coming up to shield herself from another head splitting, intrusive mental assault. What she had assumed before was true, he had been controlling whatever power had tormented her senses. How? Why? Nothing made sense, but she believed him and that was enough.
“You are wiser than most. Fetch the child.”
“What?” the woman croaked, all the blood draining from her face as the intent behind the demand hit her.
“Fetch. The. Child,” he repeated, this time using his raised arm to point his finger at the doorway.
Only a sliver of pink and orange sunlight remained on the horizon. Owen wouldn’t be back in several hours. Beru hesitated, unwilling to comply, but found she could not resist. She could either obey, or protest and get herself killed. The stranger would take Luke away either way, she already knew that.
Stubborn tears welled back up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she slipped back into the primary living area of their homestead. Passing through another low doorway, she approached the cradle cautiously. She didn’t want to wake the child, didn't want to frighten him. Hushing him, or perhaps herself and her own soft sniffles, she picked the little bundle up. Beru made sure Luke was neatly wrapped in his duvet as she cradled him to her chest, rocking her arms gently when it seemed he might wake up. She breathed a sigh of relief when he settled back down, cooing and letting out a soft snore. Swallowing hard, Beru kept her head low and kept her gaze steady on the blonde tuft of hair on Luke’s head where it stuck out from underneath his pajamas.
Not until she had crossed the threshold, relying solely on her periphery and memory, did she tear her eyes away from the infant. The intruder hadn’t moved an inch, the now chilly, crisp air biting at Beru’s tears streaked cheeks. When she spoke, her voice was soft but defiant.
“If you want him, you’ll have to go through me first.”
“It would be foolish of you to presume I wouldn’t,” he simply stated, his tone matter of fact.
“He’s my boy.”
Once again, Beru hoped he had a heart somewhere behind the exterior facade of menace. Beyond those strange, terrifying powers he had displayed.
“He is not. The child belongs with his father,” said the man.
“The child’s father is dead. So is his mother. I and Owen are the only family he has left, he has no one else. He means nothing to you, whoever you are. He means the world to me.”
“Then, we have something in common,” stated the stranger, and it took Beru a tad too long to understand what he meant.
“I… don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this. Not Kenobi, not you,” she felt the weight of realization as something began to dawn on her, but refused to voice it and see it confirmed.
The man shifted then, stalking closer with a couple of long strides. As he moved closer, Beru tipped her head back, staring up at his frightening stature but unwilling to turn away, for fear of what he might do if she lost an ounce of focus. He seemed much more focused on the bundle in her arms, however, and she instinctively held the child closer to her body for protection. The man was huge, towering over her, looming like a hungering predator ready to strike. The lenses of the mask he wore were a deep, crimson red, she noticed now. The colour filled her with dread, entrancing as she watched him peer in what could have come across as stunned silence at the peacefully slumbering infant. One the man’s large, gloved hands came up to reach for the boy, and Beru almost yelped in fear.
But instead of harming Luke with just a look, Beru was shocked to see the man touch the infant’s chubby little cheek with an unearned, unexpected tenderness. It was just a simple, gentle graze of fingertips, and a smile pulled at the corners of the child’s lips. He was still asleep, but he cooed something intelligible, one tiny hand reaching for the stranger’s index finger. The stranger seemed cautious, and Beru almost believed he was concerned, maybe even scared of accidentally hurting the boy.
“Kenobi would rather have you believe the child’s parents had perished,” said the stranger, but his attention was still single handedly on the infant.
“Where else would they be? Kenobi told us the Jedi order had been executed, framed for high treason. He told us Anakin Skywalker died with the rest of his kind.”
“They were not framed, they were the instigators. But I am not here to discuss politics that may result in your immediate execution, and neither should you.”
The threatening note to the man’s voice was back, and Beru pinched her lips tightly together. She knew by now that Luke’s life had never been on the line, not given how carefully the stranger was interacting with the sleeping form. Her life, however, was still in mortal peril - and perhaps Owen’s was, too.
“The fact still stands,” Beru dared to say, bracing herself. “That Anakin is dead, and Luke has no one but us.”
The name was said so gently, so softly that Beru almost thought she had imagined it. Despite the harsh diction, the flat delivery seemed so genuine and heart felt. Gaze darting between the intruder’s mask, and Luke’s pleased expression as the man let him close his little fist around his finger, the suspicion only grew stronger in its persistence.
“Yes. Luke. His mother named him before she died, Kenobi said. Unless that was another lie,” the woman trailed off.
“She did believe you were a boy,” mused the man, almost wistful as he seemed to be speaking directly to the small child.
Still, the words left an impression. A cold, gnawing sensation settled at the pit of Beru’s belly; clawing its way up into her chest cavity where it remained, desperately grinding from the inside as if attempting to force itself out. There was something eerie and uncanny about the stranger, something distinctly familiar. Familiar, yet foreign. Known, yet unknown. She peered down at the infant in her arms, the love she had developed for the little boy overpowering, overwhelming her. Then, she ignored the alarm bells at the back of her mind, the voices screaming at her to resist the urge. Instead, she slowly held the baby out in front of her, face set hard and throat tight as a lump settled at the base. The ball of tears rose, until her eyes were once more brimming with tears.
The stranger eyed her with what could only be perplexed confusion, as if he was in disbelief that she would entrust him with the child. She remained motionless, as he seemed to be weighing his options. Then, with stilted, jerky motions, he lifted both arms. He reached for the bundle, and with caution as if the boy was made of glass, as if he were so fragile he might break at the simplest touch, the stranger accepted him. The scene was ridiculous; a man looking like the reaper himself had come straight from a galactic battlefield while shielding the very icon of innocence in his grasp.
“You said his Anakin isn’t dead. If he’s alive, then where is he?” Beru said, and the calm, collected manner in which she delivered those words surprised even her.
The stranger said nothing, but he did look at her.
A long, pregnant silence fell as the darkness of night finally settled over the farm, and the Lars’ homestead. Beru wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, blinking back the tears pooling in her eyes. She had wanted him to say it, to verbally verify and confirm what she suspected. It was impossible to deny, as she studied the wonder and amazement with which the stranger regarded Luke. What surprised her most, though, was when he hid the child close against his chest, and held her gaze. She felt his stare burning into her soul, his presence no less imposing than it had been when he first appeared.
Beru found she couldn’t speak. She had nothing to say, and even if she did, it would have made no difference. She understood, and took a step back as she nodded at him, encouraging him with a mournful smile. He was dangerous, that much she could tell. The stranger was vicious, ruthless, and cruel. But he held a tremendous fondness for this child, and in that, Beru could see herself. In that, Beru found the strength to acknowledge that the stranger was, in fact, no stranger at all. Even as he turned his back, cape billowing behind him while he began to trudge through the sand in a direction only he knew where it might lead, Beru was certain that the man would keep Luke safe.
As the man grew smaller in the distance, Beru allowed herself to weep again, watching her nephew disappear into the ice cold desert night. Still, something nagged at her compelled her to make a bargain in turn. Not that she had anything to offer, but she was convinced the man who was not a stranger would be inclined to agree.
“Promise me Luke will be safe with you!”
The intruder halted. Sand whirled around his boots, starlight bouncing off the man’s domed helmet as a gleaming beacon of hope in the darkness. She sensed an odd, reluctant sort of foreboding but stood her ground. He did not speak, but he didn’t have to. She knew the answer and she knew he would not have come this far if he didn’t have the intention to keep the boy out of harm’s way. She didn’t know the man well, never had, but she knew Luke. Shutting her eyes, Beru accepted the silence as the confirmation she had been looking for. She had been left alive, living to tell the tale. She knew he had come to kill her, she didn’t understand how, but somehow it was clear. Somehow, Luke would be okay. The man needed the infant, more than the infant needed him. It was the next right thing to do.
“Thank you, Anakin.”
Beru couldn’t be certain, but something told her Luke had a better chance at the kind of life he was meant for in the hands of his father.
You all knew where this was going, haha. I did intend to post this as another installment of Mask of Death but I’m not sure I should throw a non-canon compliant chapter in there as all others have been as compliant as fanfics can be. Let me know whether I should make an exception for this one or not!
I’m a sucker for dad!Vader and baby!Luke.
Hi!! Could I request a hc for my man Levi Ackerman where he has been crushing on the reader for a while now but thinks he doesn’t really have a chance because she’s just so beautiful, kind and a little on the younger side. And he doesn’t really think that someone like her could ever be interested in someone like him. Then those toughts only get bigger as he sees how much time she spends with Jean or Eren or someone. And then some sort of drama is happening which eventually leads to this dramatic confession from both Levi and the reader. Hope that’s not too long? Have a great day!
First of all, I am SO sorry this request took so long to reply to. I was in a really bad headspace when I first got this, and I couldn’t write it properly at the time. But here I am now! Also, I got waaaay too into this, so I apologize that it’s a little long...
Move My Mountain ; Levi Ackerman
Levi Ackerman is nothing short of confidence and pride; insecurity scurries back into the shadows at the sight of him.
But you are sunshine and hope—all the good things in life wrapped in a lilting laugh, tucked in the corners of your lips when you smile, and the twinkling in your eyes;
Just the sight of you makes his title as “Humanity’s Strongest” fray at the edges and wither away, and it irritates him to no end.
Of all the ugly his eyes have seen and horror his ears have heard, its you that has him weak in the knees, you are a sharp contrast to the stoic man.
You’re young, youthful, and promising—all the things Levi is not.
Levi is many things, but worthy to feel the warmth you radiate as you walk into any room, a room that he might find himself lingering around in, is not one of them.
Levi may be sharp, attentive, and quick on his feet (quite literally). But it takes him an embarrassingly substantial amount of time to realize his feelings for you—that no, he does not hate you, but rather he finds himself completely smitten over you.
He realizes he always has been since the first time he saw you as a cadet. You weren’t entirely talented, and your skills were questionably underdeveloped, but you had heart and you were just as determined and fiery as your counterparts.
Levi looks forward to seeing you persevere during trainings; but he likes it better whenever you waltz into his office and assist him in paperwork he can clearly take care of on his own.
And you find yourself feeling comfortable around the Captain, entertaining him through small talk or sharing a few fun facts with him that always leave him dumbfounded.
Not that he’ll show it.
He’s quite kind to you, and though you found it off-putting at first, you had eventually grown comfortable to it. You even found yourself growing selfish, wanting more and more after each visit.
However, unbeknownst to everyone save for Erwin and Hange, Levi Ackerman is petty as he is incredibly violent.
There’s a twinge of jealousy in his chest and a twitch in his eye whenever he sees Jean joined to you by the hip. He’s aware of the history you two share, being childhood friends and choosing to join the Survey Corp together after the attack on Wall Rose.
But it doesn’t stop jealous seeping out of Levi like a waterfall.
He hates it when he catches Jean ghosting around you, dipping down to you a little too close for comfort whenever he talks to you, so Levi’s patience snaps like a twig and he crinkles his nose in disgust, steam rising from him when he watches Jean throwing his arm over your shoulders, pulling you close to his chest while you laugh at his jokes.
A line has been crossed.
Unfortunately for Jean, though his actions meant no harm, he’s drowned in piles and piles of work within the following week. Levi has him carrying extra weight, makes him run more laps to his knees shake, and riddles him with questionable work from dusk til dawn.
And just when things die down and the tide of Levi’s jealousy pulls back, it’ll come rushing back in when he catches Jean do another thing like leaning his head on your shoulder after a day’s worth of training. And it begins to bother you, picking at your skin until you can longer keep quiet and watch your friends suffer.
You’re in the middle of handing Jean your bottle of water (because Sasha chugged all of his in one breath) when Levi cuts in. Maybe it’s the heat of the sun that casts over the training ground, or maybe its the fact that once again, Levi’s jealous has once again gotten the best of him and he’s playing it off as frustration for the whole squad.
Whatever it is, there’s steam rising off as he glares at you and Jean.
Levi clears his throat, arms folded across his chest as he taps his foot, “If you have time to drinking other people’s water, Kristien,” Jean chokes on his water when he realizes Levi’s presence, quickly saluting him, “then you’ve got time to do laundry.”
Jean’s eyes widen, jaw slacking. “B-But I already did that yesterday, S-Sir.” You watch as Levi pulls his brows down, narrowing his gaze intensely as he strides up to Jean. He shifts uncomfortable under Levi’s inspecting eyes and clears his throat to try and gain some composure.
“That’s the great thing about laundry,” Levi grits, “it always piles up, so why don’t you hurry the fuck up and fuck off.”
However, Levi’s plan to wedge you to apart because you offer yourself to help.
You may be bubbly and full of life, and some may mistake your soft nature as someone naive and gullible, but you read the room easier than anyone. For the first time, Levi finds himself silenced; throat dried as if sawdust had been shoved into his throat, and he watches you saluting to him before excusing yourself along with Jean.
Unluckily for you, you become the target of his boiling rage. He’s ticking like a clock, the countdown to another outburst lingering in the air. It’s your turn to be buried in the extra weight of chores and responsibilities, doing more laps and push ups than you can manage. But you never complain, not even once.
Not until Levi strips you and Jean from the opportunity to go out on an expedition and traded off for laundry.
“I’ve had it!” You boom as you uncharacteristically lose composure, shoving the basket of dirty laundry to the side and causing Jean and Armin to flinch. “I’m gonna do laundry—laundry instead of joining the expedition? You’re kidding!”
Levi had overworked you painfully til your knees shook and your head felt dizzy, and at some point you wondered if was still training you or if it had any ulterior motive.
“I’m only the barer of the news!” Armin defends, visibly shrinking as you slowly grow unhinged.
“Then I’ll talk to him!” Jean steps in front of you, looking at you warningly as his chest heaves. “Jean, go away.”
“No,” He’s firm, headset in stopping you. “Make no mistake, the man is short, but he’s scary as hell. You saw him when he beat the shit outta Eren.”
“I can take a punch,” You state dryly, “now move.”
You place your arm on Jean’s shoulder, gripping it tightly before swiftly shoving him to the side, causing him to skid on the floor.
Determination drips from every step you take out the room and down the corridor. Your eyes directed towards one door and one door only. You wind past other captains and cadets, not bothering to even take a glance at them as you finally close in on Levi’s office.
You storm in, not even thinking to knock. You’re met with wide eyes and looks of disbelief from Erwin, Hange, and Levi; they were in the middle of a meeting when you barged in. Erwin’s jaw slacks, his brows pull down as he looks at you quizzically, “Cadet—What are you—”
“You.” You seethes, breathing heavily as you glare at Levi. “Why am I assigned to do laundry instead of joining the expedition?”
Hange and Erwin turn back to Levi with an alarmed expression painted on their face, as if they were only hearing this for the first time. “Surely, that’s not true,” Erwin chuckles lightly as he grips his hands on the armrest of the chair, shifting uncomfortably underneath the thick tension between you and Levi, “Levi, is this true?”
“It might be.” He answers dryly, a bored expression in his dark eyes as he glares back at you, “But I’m sorry, am I supposed to be answering to you? Who the fuck do you think you are interrupting a meeting?”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Your new found confidence not only shocks them, but most importantly you.
You always kept yourself in your place, never needing to be reminded who you are and what you’re meant to do, always biting your tongue and cheek when you’re angry. You never caused any trouble, but always slyly getting your friends out of it.
That is, until now.
“Excuse me?” Levi looks at you in bewilderment.
“What the fuck does doing laundry have anything to do with saving humanity?” You repeated, balling your fists till your knuckles color white. “I’m one of the best and you know it, yet I’m wasting my time cleaning Reiner’s DIRTY UNDERWEAR EVERY DAY.”
“Bold of you to assume you’re one of the best.” Levi is cold as the first winter of the year, looking completely unfazed by flow of your emotions. But you are, indeed, one of the best, nearly surpassing Mikasa.
Not that he’d ever admit to it.
“Why am I staying behind?” You press, raising your voice as you take a few steps closer to the desk.
Unfortunately, Hange and Erwin stay in the crossfire of your argument. They’re unsure when to take the beat to get up and leave.
They worry they missed that opportunity a while ago.
“It’s dangerous and you’re not ready,” Levi clips.
“I’m ready and you’re just taking your anger out on me!” You counter, “You don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been taking your anger out on Jean and now on me?”
“You made us work to the bone, but we persevered. We pulled through. So, if I can handle Reiner’s sweaty laundry, then I can handle saving humanity. Grow a pair and let me back in on the expedition.”
“No.” Levi is stern, the grip in his pen is tight and his knees locked in as his ability to stabilize his emotions withers.
“Why not?” You groan, throwing your head back. “Because it’s dangerous.” He states matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“WHY DO YOU CARE IF ITS SO DANGEROUS?” You’re yelling, breaths labored and chest constricting as your frustration grows. You’re completely unhinged and with little to no care in the world how you look like to everyone in the room. Levi bangs his fists against the surface of his desk, swiftly standing from his chair. Erwin and Hange flinch at his sudden aggression, exchanging looks of surprise.
“BECAUSE IF SOMETHING WERE TO HAPPEN TO YOU, I WOULDN’T KNOW WHAT I WOUDL DO.”
Silence falls on the room and after a moment, everyone stands on their toes as they reflect the confession that slips Levi’s lips just moments ago.
You, Hange, and Erwin look at Levi wish a slack jaw and a puzzled expression.
“I don’t—“ You swallow thickly and take a deep breath, “I don’t understand what you mean… Why would you—”
“Hange,” Erwin calls out to his friend softly as he clasps his hands together, “I think this is the part where we leave.”
Hange pouts her lip begrudgingly, “But—“
“Now.” Against her will and her wishes for juicy gossip, Hange mirrors Erwin’s actions as he rises from the chair and a hunched position and swiftly scurries out the room.
You and Levi stand in a thick blanket of silence. Levi is a man of many words, though most are painted in aggressive and backs up his violent tendencies, so he admits his worries about someone and that someone being you, it means everything.
It comes as a shock—a shock that feels electric and runs down your spine, you feel like you’ll lose your breath. “Why…why would you care?” You come down from your anger and the thumping of your heart calms down. “I don’t—I really don’t understand….”
Levi licks his lips as he loosens his grip; for the first time you can see him clearly without having to second guess it. He shudders a breath as takes a step back from his desk, the chair scrapping against the floor as he abandons the paperwork and slowly yet surely walks to you.
You grow tense and the budding anticipation in your stomach spreads through your body and up your throat. It’s only until Levi is a few steps away that you finally tear your eyes from him, dancing around the room desperately looking anywhere but him.
Levi halts his movement, only within an arm’s reach away from you. “I’m not good with words,” He admits in a mutter, more to himself than to you, “but I—I would like to be honest because you make me want to be honest.”
Levi’s gaze wavers along with the rest of him; his arms fall limp , his hands clammy as he twiddles his fingers to ease the fear hammering in his chest. “I have…” Levi speaks softly, a sharp contrast to how he usually his. His voice comes out dry and gravelly as if he had just woken up.
“I can easily read others as if I was looking at the back of my hand, and I know when people feel things…But it took me forever to understand what I felt for you and when I finally caught up with it, I didn’t—I don’t know.”
Hesitantly, as if you were scared to see something contradicting his words, you meet his eyes and you gasp. He’s looking right at you, eyes full of certainty yet wavering in his doubt that he’ll ever get a chance with you.
“What do you mean?” Your words come out so quiet, Levi almost misses it. “What don’t you understand?”
“Out of all the things I’ve seen and heard, and all the blood my hands have been stained in, you move me.”
He steps a little closer and you find yourself holding your breath, “You move me.”
You don’t know what to say. You scan through your memories, all the ones that you had with him and try to remember what you felt. And maybe you did feel something for him, something more than just cadet and captain, but you never let yourself think too far from it.
You were scared to let yourself fall, but for some odd reason, Humanity’s Strongest was letting him fall on his knees for you.
You can’t help but smile and your eyes glistening as you take the final step to close the proximity between the two of you. “
If you’re saying what I think you’re saying then,” You sigh as you close your eyes, your breath fanning against Levi’s cheeks, “don’t be shy to move a little more and show me what you mean.”
Levi’s takes a moment, studying the look in your eyes as he calculates his movements. He feels excited, but fear pulls the rug beneath his feet and all of a sudden he finds himself more scared of you than any mission he’s even been in.
You hold his face in your hands, smiling at him. “Don’t tell me you’re shy now.”
And just like that, your words egg him on and have him pushing all his doubt behind him.
Levi’s lips are soft against yours, the kiss is gentle yet eager to go deeper. He’s reluctant to cage you in his arms, but when he feels you smile against his lips and how your arms wind around his neck, he realizes he’s eases in.
Levi Ackerman has seen all the uglies in the word, and had his heartbroken one too many times to count, but you are the only one that moves him.
Okokok here this: april, reader and casey try to prank the boys. How does it go. With who does it fails/success, what was the prank, do they get caught? Do the boys get revenge, and if so, how?
Also, splinter sees it all unfolds, does he just gets himself a snack and watch, or does he tries to subtly join in without getting caught? (We all know hes got a playful side cmon)
Bonus: they try to prank vern too, maybe the boys join in to prank him? What do they do? Does he retaliate?
Okay so I admit I let my brain go nuts on this one, so it's a little long but I was cackling the entire time I was writing it.
In your complete and utter defence, Leo had 100% started this
And also in your defence, you did tell him not to
But he tricked you into watching a horror movie and ended up dying your hair green
This meant war
You'd even wrapped up April and Casey into it
Their problems were your problems
Which meant that April was the one who convinced Splinter not to say anything to his sons
He was perfectly happy to oblige
Casey was just there to help set things up
And you liked the way his mind worked
The objective wasn't to go unnoticed, there would be no point in doing it and having no proof
You were doing this to prove that you could
Leo had emphasized that he couldn't be distracted
That you were to obvious and clumsy to prank him without him noticing
Challenge fucking accepted
And that's how you ended up at the kitchen table eating lunch with April and Casey when the boys were coming back from meditating with Splinter
April kept having to shove food in her mouth to hide her laughter
Casey just decided to wear sunglasses
And you kept overpowering the urge to smirk
"Hey guys, good to see you. Y/n have you seen my katanas?"
With the obstruction of water in your mouth you just nodded at him, pointing to the other room
He sauntered off, none the wiser to your victorious grin
When he came back in only a moment later his expression had done a complete 180
Leo made direct eye contact with you and you held that stare like a wolf cornered in its den
"does someone want to explain why my katanas are encased in blueberry jello?"
You raised your hand like a child in class
"hate to break it to you, but it's actually berry blue you uncultured bitch"
Ohhhh you were so undeniably dead
A whole other level of six feet under
It wasn't a surprise that April and Casey had backed out on this one
It also wasn't a surprise that Splinter had offered to stand up for you if things went sideways
Donnie even gave you a sheet of paper with a list of hiding spots before hand
All of this went completely unnoticed by Raph, the target of your latest scheme.
And that was fine, you had only one objective here-
Make it out alive
But it was amazing what 1 person could do with some extra cash and internet access
So that's what led you to your current position.
Cross legged on the bench, watching the large red terrapin get ready for his first set, that in itself wasn't unusual, you always watched him lift just in case you needed to run and grab someone if something went wrong
Raph was none the wiser to your plan
At least that's what you thought
Your book was in your lap and you were calmly scanning your pages, somewhat comprehending the words but keeping a very close eye on the turtle across from you
You peeked over the edge of your book to meet his eyes
And your heart sank to your stomach
He smirked at you, taking a lumbering step forward
"You ever seen that episode of the Office where Jim fills Dwight's phone with nickels so when he takes 'em out Dwight punches himself in the face?"
Shit shit shit shit shit shit-
"Uh... No, can't say that I have, why do you ask?"
That damn smile got even wider and all of your muscles tensed, you were ready to bolt
"I'm giving you a fifteen second headstart. Starting right now."
You flew to your feet and sprinted out of the weight room
"DONNIE WE GOTTA CODE RED!"
Your lungs were ready to burst by the time you made it to your decided hiding spot. Heavy footsteps went right underneath you and you held your breath, you wouldn't dare move.
You didn't come down until hours later when Splinter came and coaxed to you out of hiding
But deep down you knew you'd started something you couldn't finish.
You didn't even have to convince the guys to partake in this
You didn't even get the chance to tell them what you were planning
They were already brainstorming
None of you let a word of it slip to April, she would've shut you down faster than you could blink
A complete buzz kill
But fake blood was relatively cheap and all of Vern's flooring was tile (meaning extremely easy to clean and bleach)
Donnie had really been the mastermind behind the execution, none of you had any idea how he'd rigged the apartment plumbing
But he'd assured you it would only affect Vern's suite and no one else's so you didn't concern yourself with it further
And after the fact you had to wonder what exactly the former cameraman was planning on the date he'd been in the middle of
All you knew was that you got a very frantic call from the falcon himself yelling about blood coming out of his tap and the sink wouldn't shut off and it was everywhere and what the fuck was happening?
You all knew that Splinter thought it was hilarious, he'd never been particularly fond of Vern
But he did make his sons assist in the clean up and bleaching of the victims apartment floor
You went too and offered moral support
Vern had hit on you one too many times, so there was no way you'd feel bad about this
As far as pranking went, you and Mikey were partners in crime
He always had great ideas and you always came up with the best ways to execute those ideas without getting caught
But when you separated those two chaos was guaranteed
You weren't entirely sure how you had been pitted against each other but you weren't entirely mad about it
You couldn't say the same for anyone else though, the others had been on edge all week.
Pranking Mikey was a challenge, he knew how you worked and vice versa
You'd been brainstorming with April for weeks now, maybe a new perspective would help
That's what the two of you told yourselves anyways
Much to your dismay, Mikey and Casey had been plotting against you as well, the traitor.
And perhaps even more unfortunate was the fact that both of your pranks somehow overlapped and backfired on the rest of the family
Because Mikey and Casey may have replaced the family tea set with a edible sugar replica that looked identical to the original
So that when you were asked to make tea for Splinter and Leo it would dissolve the second you poured the hot tea
But they didn't tell anyone else so Leo was left with an impromptu anxiety attack when he made his own tea before sitting down to meditate and it melted into sugary leaf water
And you and April had planned the 'cutting off your finger in the kitchen' with the knife, fake finger, and fake blood
Which in theory should've worked because Mikey was in the kitchen the most, that was his territory
However once you'd started your plan you couldn't stop it
so when you 'cut your finger off' and screamed for Mikey you didn't have time to yell "wait it's a prank!" before Donnie caught a glimpse of the scene and fainted
In your defence you didn't know the purple turtle could move that fast
And to Mikey's relief he was going to throw that cutting board out anyways
Splinter explicitly banned the two of you from pranking each other after that incident
Per your own common sense you had come to the conclusion that pranking the families resident genius was a horribly stupid idea
So for once, you'd practiced some self control and refrained from any pranks involving Donnie
Now that's not to say that the turtle vowed from aiming any pranks towards you
He had morals but messing with you walked the line separating adorable from batshit crazy
And he was all for it
April advised against it severely and even Splinter seemed to think it wasn't the best idea, but that was a lesson his son had to learn on his own
On the flip side, the second Casey heard about Donnie's plan he was all for it
So when you came over for dinner they both had to hide their excited smiles as Casey passed you your spaghetti
He knew it was your favorite
Everyone else was oblivious, which looking back on it was a very bad thing
April had her suspicions that Donnie was pulling something this evening, but she couldn't put her finger on it
That wasn't until you swirled a mouthful of noodles around your fork and shoved it into your mouth, you were starving
Here lies your predicament-
You swallowed thickly and blinked like you were in pain, your hand went to your throat and you reached for your water, ending up chugging almost the entire bottle.
Your eyes met Donnie's in a serious type of concern
"Is there hot sauce in this?"
April choked on her breadstick and quickly covered her mouth
Casey hadn't picked up on it yet
"Awh yeah- how'd you figure it out so quickly?"
You erupted in a coughing fit that sent April rushing to your side before you could tumble to the floor
"You fucking assholes! Y/N has a capsaicin allergy! Casey go start the car we need to get them to the hospital!"
On the bright side you were fine after you were rushed to the ER
But you didn't speak to Donnie or Casey for two weeks following the accident
You eventually forgave them for it and they haven't targeted you since
Sorry if it got a little dark at the end, but I felt like it was more realistic. Also that has actually happened to me but it was a nut allergy (and that's how I found out I was allergic to cashews) But I feel like the ending was a good example of how pranking someone can go horribly wrong, you should always consider the possibilities before doing something that could cause harm to a person. (Unless they really really deserve it)
I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you guys like it as much as I do! 😁🧡👍
Corpse's Bride (I)
Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader
Summary: When you end up in an unfortunate arranged marriage to salvage what is left of your parents’ wealth, it seems fate has other ideas in store for you; or perhaps it was the Devil who decided to bring back the dead?
Notes: Yea, I don’t know why I wrote this either, and no idea where this series is gonna go. If you have any suggestions, please send them. But I wanted to write something for Christmas since I haven’t posted in a while. I hope you all have safe and happy holidays! Let’s just get 2020 over with, please.
Tag list currently closed.
Chapter I - The wedding
Somewhere through the clouds of smoke erupting from the city, just beyond the hills, lies a small town called Gloomington. Where the streets are always swept and yet seem never clean, where birds fly high through the sky yet never manage to reach the clouds, and where dreams are crushed underneath the wheels of creaking carriages and half-empty fish barrels. It might seem like the most boring old town, with its inhabitants that look like they’re either on the brink of death or very much willing to be, but it wasn’t to you. No, to you life appeared much more interesting, though not by your own volition. You did not turn a blind eye to the grey streets or creaking bones or listening ears, as they had always been the same to you, but the troubles you had yet to bear were much too big to focus on anything else.
Your parents had deemed that on your twenty-first birthday, you were finally fit for marriage. It was the age that they had gotten married, and by tradition, through their parents as well. Why they had decided to force this upon you as well, you did not know, for as long as you could remember you’d only ever thought of your parents to be miserable together. Their time with you was now something of the past, however, because if all went well today, you would be married within just a day or two.
It was already raining, which would’ve made the situation so much gloomier to you if you hadn’t been revelling in the fact that it meant you could take the carriage instead of walk. You didn’t mind getting your shoes or the hem of your dress dirty, but other people did. And the people you would be seeing today would not approve of anything that wasn’t perfect upon arrival.
You only remembered the Everglots vaguely from your childhood during the instance when you’d been playing in a similar storm and one of their maids had shooed you away, saying you were being too loud and an unfit view for their folk. Their house was a different story, however. It stood tall above all other houses, even yours, so it was hard to miss. You weren’t rich, even though your parents liked to pretend they were. Your father owned the biggest and only fishing company in town; the main source of income from Gloomington. The thing was though, the seas were being overfished, and all he was getting from the ocean now were ones the sizes of goldfish.
You presumed this is why your parents decided to marry you off to the Everglots’ son, Thomas. According to your nanny, they were a bunch of washed-up aristocrats. Otherwise, you’d never even caught a glimpse of them, let alone of their offspring. Which is probably why you were so nervous. If he was anything like his parents personality-wise, you hoped he at least made up for it on the outside.
“Stop fidgeting,” your mother said, snapping you from your daze. You looked down to your hands, which had been crumpling a bunch of the fabric of your dress together, probably creating creases. You wonder if you had subconsciously done it, simply out of spite, because the nerves had numbed any other senses. You smoothed it out, crossed your legs and folded your hands across your lap, to which your mother gave a pleased nod.
A glance towards your father told you not much else, he was too busy going through last-minute calculations in his notebook. This must seem like ordinary business to him.
Your heart jumped a little as you watched the horse pulling your carriage nearly slip in the mud. He’d been in your family for fifteen years now, it was a wonder he was still standing. Perhaps the whip was reason enough for such a solemn animal, confined to his leather straps and iron mouthpiece. You tugged on the silver chain your mother had draped across your neck. Some of the diamonds had been taken out, but you could only see it if you looked very closely.
The carriage wavered and eventually managed to stop with another crack of the whip. It went almost simultaneously with the clash of thunder.
Hopping out, you looked down to see your polished shoes had landed directly in the biggest puddle on the square.
“Oh, miss, you should’ve let me put my coat down for you,” the old coachman called out, rising from his seat.
Your mother’s unnerving gaze followed yours down to the puddle around your feet. “Yes, you should have. I told you to watch your step with those shoes. Henry, clean them up.”
The coachman then proceeded to lay down his coat in the puddle anyways, and even after your protests continued to polish your shoes with his previously clean white handkerchief. You thanked him when he was finished, to which he tipped his hat.
“Hurry up. We’re already late,” your mother said. You wanted to rip the whip from his hands and hit her with it, but your composure and good sense got the better of you.
The massive doorknocker hit the hardwood three times because of your father’s shaky hand, which seemed to collapse back down to his side immediately after.
To your surprise, no maid opened, but the lady of the house herself did. Missus Everglot looked down upon you with a smile that looked more like a sneer. Her hair was greying, almost to the point where it was white, a colour matching the black dress she wore. Weren’t you supposed to wear colour for a special occasion such as this? You’d been so bold to wear something green; your best dress, to be perfectly honest. Were you supposed to wear black?
“It is good to see you again,” she hummed, and your parents made noises of agreement.
“Our apologies for bringing the bad weather. But that usually means good luck!” Your father said. You all laughed, though mostly out of politeness.
She invited you in, and you were finally able to see the grandeur of the Everglots household. Or well, what was left of it. The unlit fireplaces on either side of the entrance hall made you wonder if they no longer had maids working for them or if they simply enjoyed the cold. There was only one butler you saw so far, the one who took your coats from you and then scurried off. A big staircase stood in front of you, leading two opposite directions upstairs.
“Ah! You must be the daughter we’ve been hearing so much about!” Mister Everglot suddenly appeared, his arms spread wide with the same smile as his wife spread across his pale cheeks. He also wore black, though he bore quite a bit more weight than his wife, almost to the point where the top button of his shirt looked like it wanted to bail ship.
“It’s a true pleasure meeting you, mister Everglot,” you replied quietly, holding out your hand for him to shake. He barely did, before brushing you off to gloat about things to your parents. “You know, we’ve picked out the finest gold for the rings. The blacksmith in town just did a marvellous job on them-“
The ring on your hand felt heavy. It was your grandmothers’, passed down from your mother and onto you. Now you had to bear the burden of a loveless marriage.
Your silent sigh was interrupted by a quiet clearing of someone’s throat.
You looked up to meet the eyes of a dark-haired boy, who was scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. He asked you if he got your name right. You nodded politely.
“Hi, I’m- I’m Thomas. It’s very nice to meet you, miss.”
You huffed in amusement at his stuttering. “I don’t think you have to call me ‘miss’, Thomas. We’ll be married soon.”
He smiled shyly. “I would keep calling you ‘miss’ if you preferred it. Marriage wouldn’t change that for me.”
You stood there, slightly aghast. This boy was nothing like his parents. You wondered who had raised him because as you had been fortunate enough with your nanny, you couldn’t imagine his having been any different.
“Better watch it there, Thomas.” Another man strutted down the stairs behind him. He looked just about as pretentious as mister and missus Everglot. “Don’t want to scare the little lady off there.”
Sykkuno only chuckled, but you could sense that his friend didn’t have the best intentions. He introduced himself after you, “The name’s Barkis. I’m a… good family friend of the Everglots, I suppose.” He kissed your hand, which made you shiver uncomfortably. You tried your best to hide it, instead turning your eyes to meet Thomas’ again. They seemed much brighter in this gloomy place.
At least, that’s what you kept reminding yourself of as you looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to refrain from fainting as your mother kept pulling on the strings of your corset until you were quite certain a few ribs had been broken off in the process.
“Now,” she reminded you, “This will be good for the family. I know you’re an unconventional spitfire, - I don’t know who you got that from – but you shall learn to listen to your husband. It will save your father’s business and his honour, not to mention your dignity.”
You couldn’t breathe, you needed air. Your mother saw the look in your eyes.
“And as a final warning, young lady, if you dare to try to run, you better remind yourself that this family will never take you in again. Not when you come crawling back with not a penny to carry, not with a baby you got from another man. You will be as good as dead to us, if you wouldn’t have already died in some gutter.”
You nodded, “I understand, mother. I just need some air.”
She gave you one last glance, before nodding. She locked the door after she left.
It allowed you to burst through the doors to the Everglots balcony, where outside the rain had thankfully settled a bit to a slight drizzle. But you didn’t care if your dress got wet. You had to untie the knot at your back.
But you couldn’t reach.
You leaned across the railing.
If you could reach a little further-
But your hand slipped, and you felt your feet being thrown the wrong way as you plummeted down the second floor.
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NILS HOGLANDER | SWEET LOVIN’
A/N: I wrote this imagine a few weeks ago for a few of my friends, since Nils is the only player we have in common. I did rewrite some parts today so I could post it on here as well. It’s just some ‘feel good’ smut with a message.
Warnings: A bit of angst and some talk about insecurities, sweet and soft Nils, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, some swearwords, and some more sweet and soft Nils.
Word Count: 3.8K
It’s hard dating a NHL player, every move they make, every step they take gets noticed by someone. Every mistake, every misstep gets noted down by someone. It’s tough to always be in the spotlight, especially for their relationships and family. You struggle with the amount of negativity you read on the internet about Nils, but also about you and your relationship. You know, oh you know you shouldn’t read anything they write. You should probably just stay clear of social media at all. It makes you feel insecure, and you know it’s stupid, but you can’t help yourself.
Of course there are also a lot of positive notes to read, but it almost seems like you only pick up the negative ones. It’s almost like you enjoy torturing yourself, even though that’s not true at all. You hate it, you absolutely hate it, and yet you can’t stop yourself from getting sucked into the negativity every time. Reading negative things about yourself is one thing, but hearing them in real life is a whole other category.
Today is one of those days. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, you didn’t want to hear anything at all, but you did. You try to shrug it off, but luck isn’t on your side today. The girls follow you into the bathroom, still talking about Nils, about you, and about your relationship. You walk into the first stall you see, locking the door behind you. You try to catch your breath, keeping the tears at bay. There’s no way you’re going to cry with those girls around, you just can’t let them get to you that easy.
You brace your hand on your chest, trying to calm down your racing heart. Your head falls back against the door, slow breaths in and out. As soon as you feel like you have at least some of your composure back, you open the door. You lock eyes with one of the girls, who simply smirks at you. She turns to one of her friends, nodding her head towards you. “I told you she isn’t anything special,” she laughs, her eyes raking over your body. The other girls join her laughter, before turning their backs towards you.
You had no intention of running out, or letting these girls win, but they hit you with the one thing you’re most afraid of. What if you aren’t enough for Nils? What if he finds someone else? Someone better? You freeze, all of your insecurities hitting you at once. Afraid to fall apart right now and there, you turn around, bolting out of the bathroom.
There’s absolutely no way you’re staying here a minute longer than necessary. You came here to study, not to have a mental breakdown in front of all these people. It takes you exactly 3 minutes to pack up your stuff, pay your bill and make your way over to your car. The moment you sit down you drop your head on your steering wheel, letting the tears fall freely.
At some point you calm down, your insecurities still on the surface of your mind, but you know now those girls just tried to get under your skin. They tried to get some sort of reaction out of you, and you gave them exactly what they wanted. You sigh, shaking your head. It doesn’t matter. You know Nils loves you, you know you’re enough for him. You know it. So why is it so hard to accept it sometimes? Because you’re human, that’s why.
Your mood improved immensely by the time you get home. You see Nils’s car in the driveway, smiling softly at the fact he’s home already. The moment you step through the door you drop your bag to the floor, and kick off your shoes. You walk towards the living room, spotting Nils on the couch. “Hey, baby,” you call out to him. His head shoots up, surprised eyes looking back at yours.
“Hi, babe. You’re back early?” he says, questioning your early return. You shrug your shoulders.
“So, where’s my food?” he asks excitedly, looking around for the bag that should contain his food. You blink a few times, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, trying to remember when he asked for food. Nils spots your confusion, an annoyed sigh leaving his mouth. “Really? You forgot my food?” Nils sighs, hand brushing through his hair. “I texted you? Asking if you could bring me some food for after I finished my training?”
At this point you’re just annoyed, if he wanted food he could’ve called. Hell, he could’ve gotten food himself. “I didn’t receive a text, so obviously I didn’t bring you any fucking food, Nils,” you tell him, your words coming out harsher than you intended to.
He raises his eyebrow at you. “Fucking perfect,” he mutters, turning back around.
You sigh again, before pushing past your pride and past your own emotions. “Do you want me to make you something? I can just quickly cook something for you?” you ask him softly.
“Don’t bother, y/n,” he simply tells you, continuing his game.
“You know what, Nils? Go bother someone else if you need anything, but leave me the fuck alone,” you spit out, before turning on your heels and stomping towards the bedroom. You hear Nils yell something at you, but at this point you simply don’t care.
You strip out of your clothes, pulling one of Nils’s sweatshirts over your head, and climbing into bed. You just want to be alone for now, alone with your thoughts, alone with your insecurities. Just alone, engulfed in the cosiness of this bed.
After 30 minutes Nils realises you’re not coming downstairs anymore. He didn’t mean to be so annoyed when you forgot his food, it’s just that he’s really fucking hungry. It’s no excuse, but after an excruciating training he was so desperate for some food. He picks up his phone, scrolling through his messages until he finds your name. The moment he opens your chat he knows he made a mistake. There’s no message from him to you asking for food. “Fuck!” he curses. He realizes he fucked up, badly.
Nils makes his way upstairs, knowing damn well you deserve an apology for the way he acted. He quietly opens the door, eyes searching the room for you. He finds you curled up in bed, softly sniffling. Shit, he didn’t mean to make you cry, it’s the last thing he wants. Quietly he slips off his clothes, leaving him in just his boxers.
Gently he pulls back the covers, revealing your curled up body. He crawls in bed behind you, pulling you close to his body. He moves your hair to the side, revealing the soft skin of your neck. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, leaving a soft kiss behind your ear. “I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have been so mad at you, especially considering I didn’t send you any message about food,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.
You can’t help the chuckle that escapes through your sobs. “That’s so you, Nils,” you tell him. He chuckles against your neck, sending chills all over your body. “I’m sorry too, babe,” you sigh, “I just had a really shitty day, and I aimed my frustrations at you.”
Nils traces soft circles on your thigh, still kissing the exposed skin of your neck. “Why did you have a shitty day, y/n?” he asks you softly. You try to shrug his question off, but Nils feels there’s more behind it than you let on. “Talk to me, baby,” he murmurs.
You turn around in his arms, burying your head in the crook of his neck. “It’s just that these girls were talking shit about me, about our relationship, and it made me insecure. They made me doubt myself, and wondered if I’m good enough for you,” you mumble, trying your hardest to not relive their words and looks again.
Nils stills for a split second, before rolling over, crushing you under his weight. He wiggles himself between your legs, looking up at you with a serious expression. His hands move up to cup your face, making sure you’re hearing every word he’s about to tell you. “There’s no other woman for me out there, y/n. You are it for me, okay?” He looks at you expectantly, you nod your head at him. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, there’s no one who catches my eye like you do. No one, y/n.” he tells you, his eyes swirling with love, adoration. You listen to every word he has to say, every doubt you had leaving your body.
Nils looks at you, a wicked glint in his eyes, the smirk on his face promises you nothing but mischief. His hands slide from your face towards your breasts, squeezing them softly. “You have the most amazing tits, and I can’t stop touching them,” he says cheekily, giving you one of his boyish smiles. You laugh at his statement, but Nils isn’t done yet. His hands slide down further, cupping your ass in both his hands. “Your ass is so nice, I don’t even have the right words to describe it,” Nils says, squeezing each cheek.
At this point you’re a giggling mess underneath him, enjoying all the things he has to tell you, but mostly enjoying carefree Nils. His hands once again move, this time towards your panties. You gasp when he cups your pussy. “I fucking love your pussy, I can’t wait to bury myself inside of you again,” he groans out, clearly thinking about things that hopefully will happen.
“I love every single part of you, every single part of your body and every single part of your soul. I love it all. Do you know what my favourite thing is?” Nils asks, his eyes locked on yours. You shake your head, while Nils moves his hand towards your chest, putting his palm over your heart. “This. This is my favourite part of you, y/n. Your pure heart, full of love for everyone who deserves it, and maybe even for those who don’t deserve another second of your attention and time. Even though you’ve been hurt so many times, you still love with everything you have, unconditionally. It’s my favourite part of you, because you decided to love me.”
Your chest tightens at all the sweet words Nils tells you, all his love for you showing over and over again. You try to tell him you feel the exact same way, but the words won’t come out of your mouth. Instead you grab the back of his head, slamming your lips on his, hopefully showing him that you love and appreciate him just as much.
Nils groans against your lips, pushing his body further into you. You grind your hips against him, feeling his erection against your core. Nils licks across your bottom lip, softly asking you to open up for him. You comply, your tongue meeting his, swirling and twisting around the other. There’s no battle, no fight for dominance, it’s just simply you and him.
Nils’s eyes find yours, he does this every time you end up in bed, or anywhere else for that matter, every time he needs the reassurance and permission that it’s okay, that he can continue with his plans. It’s such a turn on and he doesn’t even know it. “Can I?” he asks you softly, playing with the hem of your sweater.
“You can,” you confirm, smiling softly at him.
His hands immediately grip the hem of your sweater, tugging it over your head, leaving you in just your panties. His eyes rake over your barely clad body. “I’m going to show you just how gorgeous you are, baby,” he whispers against your lips.
He claims your lips once more, his hand finding your breast. You moan into the kiss when his fingers close around your nipple, rolling the taut bud between them. Your hand moves down to Nils’s erection, but he swats your hand away. You raise your eyebrow in question at him, while he softly chuckles at you. “No, baby. This is all for you,” he says, his head lowering towards your neck. “and maybe a little bit for me as well.”
Nils gently sucks on the skin of your throat, making his way down your body. He makes sure he doesn’t skip any part of you, pampering every single inch of your skin with love and affection. His earlier sweet words, his loving way of caressing your body, drives you insane with need. Need for Nils, need to have him inside of you, need to feel him everywhere.
Your hand grips his hair when his mouth closes around one of your nipples, sucking the bud into his mouth. “Oh god, Nils,” you moan, the sensation moving through your body like lightning. While Nils gives your breasts the attention they deserve with his mouth and hand, he slowly pulls down your panties with his other hand.
His fingers find your dripping core, his thumb circling your clit. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me,” Nils groans out against your chest. You cry out as soon as he pushes two fingers inside of you, engulfing himself in your familiar warmth. Nils moves further down your body, while continuing to fuck you with his fingers.
His lips close around your clit, sucking the soft bundle of nerves into his mouth. You moan out at the sensation, gripping Nils’s hair tightly between your fingers. “Nils, please,” you beg him, not even sure what you’re exactly begging for. At this point it could be anything. You look down at Nils, his face buried between your legs. His eyes locked on yours as he eats your pussy like it’s his last meal.
You pull at his hair, trying to get his attention. “What do you need, y/n?” he asks you, before continuing his torturous ways.
“I need you, Nils,” you mumble, so far lost in the pleasure Nils gives you.
You can feel him smirk against your core. “Soon, baby. First I need you to come for me, okay?” he asks, even though you know it isn’t a question at all. You nod your head, so desperately for some kind of release.
It’s the way Nils murmurs soft praises and dirty words that send you falling over the edge. You come all over his fingers, his mouth, his name falling off your lips like it’s the only thing on your mind.
Nils watches the way you orgasm, he’s sure the blissful look on your face is his favourite part of making you come. The way all your stress, worries, doubts leave your body, he’ll make you come another thousand times if he could, just to see that look on your face over, and over. The way you clamp down on his fingers has his cock throbbing in his boxers. He can’t wait to feel you wrapped around him, to bury himself inside of you again, and again, and again.
He keeps his eyes on yours as he pulls back, fingers slipping out of you. Your mouth falls open as he slips his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. The wicked glint in his eyes tells you he isn’t finished yet. “You taste so good, y/n,” he says, before leaning forward, capturing your lips with his. You can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, everywhere. The experience so intimate, so raw.
Nils breaks the kiss, moving back to sit on his knees. His hand moves over his stomach, slipping underneath the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down enough to free himself from his confinements. His fist closes around his rock-hard erection, thumb spreading the already leaking precum over his tip.
He crawls back between your legs, opening you up wider for him. He braces himself on one arm beside your head, trying to keep his weight off you. His other hand grabs one of your legs, hooking it around his hip. You gasp at the sudden contact of his cock on your core. Nils smirks at your reaction as gently guides his cock between your folds, slowly pushing inside of you.
Inch by inch he slides inside of you, always watching for signs to see if you aren’t comfortable, if you aren’t ready for more. The moment he’s fully buried inside of you, he releases the breath he’d been holding in. “You okay?” he asks softly. You nod your head, pulling his face closer to yours. You press your lips on his, while Nils slowly starts moving inside of you.
Nils keeps his pace slow, deep, embracing every second he can spend with you like this. Connected, lost in each other, it’s never been better than right now. He can’t take his eyes off you, every single moan, every single sigh that leaves your mouth spurs him on to keep things slow, and intimate, relishing every single second spent inside of you. “I’ve never felt more alive, more at home than like this, y/n. Never,” he rasps out.
You wrap both your legs around his waist, allowing Nils to slide even deeper inside of you. He moans out at the feeling, sending chills all over your body. There’s just something about Nils moaning that turns you on more, and more. “You’re my home, Nils,” you tell him, nails digging into his back.
His slow, deliberated motions show you everything words can’t explain. This, the way he makes love to you, means more to you than words ever could. The connection between the two of you goes further than anything you ever felt before, it’s out of this world, absolutely astonishing. This goes further than love, further than lust, further than desire, it’s everything.
Nils brings you closer, and closer towards your orgasm, his thrusts deep, his words soft, sweet, and dirty, the perfect mix. His arm around one of your legs, keeping you even closer to him. You close your eyes, breathing turning erratic. Nils claims your lips once more, swallowing your scream of pleasure, when you finally shatter around him. Never, never felt an orgasm like this, your mind completely mush, while your body feels like it’s on fire. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull, nails digging into Nils’s back so hard, you probably broke skin.
Nils lets himself go as soon as you reach your high, his own orgasm ripping through his body. “Fuck, fuck, y/n,” he groans out, emptying himself inside of you. Nils collapses on top of you, head buried in the crook of your neck. Aftershocks still rock through his body due to probably one of the most intense orgasms he ever had.
Your hand softly brushes through his hair, a content sigh leaving Nils’s mouth. “You okay there, love?” you ask him softly.
A raspy chuckle leaves his throat, before he raises his head. “Fuck, yes. That was mind-blowing.”
Nils rolls of you, crawling out of bed. He makes his way over to the bathroom, giving you a perfect view of his even more perfect backside. Nils catches you staring at his ass, when he looks back to you over his shoulder. He laughs, sending you a wink, before walking into the bathroom. You smile to yourself, how did you get so lucky with him?
Seconds later Nils comes back out of the bathroom with a damp washcloth in his hand. You smile softly at him, when he gently cleans up the mess you both made between your legs. “Thank you, Nils,” you tell him, appreciating his help and care, not only now but always. He shakes his head at you, crawling back in bed beside you.
He pulls you on top of him, arms keeping you close to him. “You don’t have to thank me. I’ll always take care of you, baby, always,” he mumbles against your hair.
“I know, but still. Thank you for showing me I’m stronger than my insecurities, it means a lot,” you mumble against his chest.
Nils sighs, softly placing a kiss on top of your head. “I’ll show you day after day that there’s no one out there like you. You’re special, y/n. I’ll never let you forget that,” he simply tells you, making you smile some more.
You lay on his chest for a while, listening to his steady heartbeat, the soft rise and fall of his chest. Nils grabs your chin, turning your face towards his. He softly pecks your lips, just needing to feel them on his once more, he simply can’t get enough of you. “You have no idea how much I love you, y/n,” he whispers against your lips.
You grin at him, you’ll never get used to hearing those words come out of his mouth. “I do, I absolutely do. You show me how much you care, how much you love me every single day, today is no exception,” you tell him. “I love you, Nils. I love you more than I can tell you, more than I can show you, more than anything in this world.” Nils grins at your words, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer to him.
You giggle at his happiness, while Nils just pampers your face in more, and more kisses. “Stop it, you goof!” you laugh out loud, trying to wiggle out of his arms.
“Never, y/n! Never!” he laughs back at you.
It’s always like this between the two of you. You both love with everything you have, you cry together over stupid things, you fight and make up, but most of all you laugh. You laugh like it’s your final day on earth, like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. His smile makes your whole day, while your smile makes everything seem so simple to Nils.
If there’s one thing you’re absolutely sure of in this world, it’s that Nils loves you with every fibre in his body. He shows you day after day how much you mean to him, how much he loves you, and how much he appreciates you.
You know you’ll never let him go. You know he is the one, there’s no one else out there for you who can compete with Nils. You’re absolutely 100% sure Nils is your soulmate, your best friend, the one you want to grow old with, and you’ll spend every single second of every single day showing him exactly that.
Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 17)
Pairing: JJ x OC
Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.
Note: Did today feel like a Friday to anybody else? I almost didn’t post this chapter because I got my days mixed up. Anyway! To the people who have requested imagines from me, I have seen them and added them to my list. They may take a little bit to post but I promise to get them out as soon as possible! As always, thank you for the kind messages. I love receiving your feedback.
Word Count: 8.4k
Chapter 16 & Master list
When I wake up, my eyes blink open to the orange blanket that lays over my yard from the rising sun and the sound of sea gulls chirping and flapping their wings over my head. Even though my back aches from laying on my stomach for too long, I can't bring myself to move and disrupt the sleeping boy underneath me.
JJ's lips are parted slightly and his chest moves up and down in a steady rhythm as he continues to sleep. I'm tempted to brush my fingers across his soft cheeks and fiddle with the shark tooth clasped around his neck. But nothing can make me want to wake this peaceful boy. When JJ sleeps, he's another calm and normal sixteen year old boy. He's not angry with the Kooks or running from his despicable father. He's not worried about how he's going to pay his father's bills or where he's getting his next meal. This is how JJ deserves to feel all the time, and it makes me sad that he won't always feel like that.
I lay my head back down on his chest and close my eyes again, listening to the steady hum of his heartbeat. I could stay in this position forever, with JJ's arms around me and my body wrapped in the scent of JJ's sweatshirt I stole from him last night.
Last night JJ and I fell asleep in the hammock. After hours of celebrating with and without the others, we eventually crashed outside, too tired to bring ourselves back to my room in the Chateau. It's not the first time we've fallen asleep outside - it's not even our first time falling asleep outside on top of each other. But this time feels different. It's intimate and even romantic...even if all we did is sleep.
I look up when I feel his lips press against the top of my head. Smiling up at him, I finally pinch his chin between my index finger and thumb and pull his face towards mine and purse my lips for him to kiss me.
JJ pulls away first and smirks down at me. "Good morning."
JJ moves to flip me over so he's the one hovering over me as I lay on my back. I giggle from the sudden change, but I'm definitely not complaining. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer to me.
His lips moved down from mine to my neck and nips at it. My eyes close as a flutter of pleasure explodes in my lower stomach.
"You know, I've never done it on the hammock before." JJ smirks against my skin.
I groan from the way his lips against my skin make me feel - like he's setting my body on fire one inch at a time, and it's the most blissful feeling in the world.
But as much as I love this feeling, I know it can't last for long...because our friends will be here soon.
"Me neither." I pull his head back up to my face and kiss him chastely on the lips. "And you're not going to - at least not today."
I try not to giggle at JJ's displeasure when he pouts, but I can't help it. He looks so cute. I push the blonde locks out of his face and comb my fingers through his hair, earning a gruff groan.
"You're torturing me," He says with his eyes closed.
"I'm sorry, but everyone's going to be here shortly. Kie's bringing breakfast and you know her...I think she invented the phrase 'the early bird gets the worm.'"
JJ's eyes flicker open. "Would it be so bad if they were to find out about us?"
His question makes me push myself up on my elbows and tilt my head sideways.
"No, seriously, Mar. I think we should tell them. I'm tired of dancing around them like we're walking on egg shells. I want to be able to kiss you anywhere I want...I want to be able to show you off so every other guy on this island knows not to even look at you the way I look at you."
I push away the fact that his words unleash a swarm of butterflies in my stomach and shake my head. "But what about the rule...and John B -"
"Fuck the rule. Okay? I never liked that rule because I knew I was never going to be able to follow it. Because I've loved you since middle school. And I told myself if I ever got the chance to be with you, I wouldn't let anyone get in my way. Including John B."
I don't say anything because I don't know how to come up with the words to tell him how I feel or how he just made me feel like I was the only girl in the world.
So instead, I smash my lips onto his and pull him chest to chest. I grip the strings of his sweatshirt that dangle in front of him and pull him closer to me, as if that were humanly possible. From head to toe, my body ignites with slow tingles that later turn to fireworks when his hands find the bare skin of my waist. A gasp of a moan falls past my lips and my body curves upwards to connect with JJ's. I pull the hem of his sweatshirt up and over his head. JJ snaps the heavy piece of clothing down on the ground and moves his hands to do the same with mine. Only, before he can, the low rumble of the Twinkie pulls us away from each other.
JJ's head falls down on my shoulder and he squeezes his eyes shut. "Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me."
"I told you," I tease and kiss the top of his head.
"It can't even be 9 a.m." JJ pushes himself off of me and bends down to pick up his sweatshirt.
I pull JJ back and open my legs and bend my knees so he can comfortably sit against me with his back pressed against my chest. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, resting my folded hands on his chest.
I ignore the incoming footsteps and John B's teasing and focus on the water ahead and how the sun is mirrored against the murky water, making even the sun look so fragile and vulnerable.
JJ's words burned a hole in my heart and settled into my deepest nerves. I want all those things he wants too. I want to be able to kiss him in public so no other girl thinks they have a shot with my trouble-making Pogue. I want to constantly feel his touch, whether it be his hand in mine or his arms wrapped around my waist as we dance in the middle of the boneyard. But something pulls me back from pursing it.
I like what JJ and I have. No one's opinions are involved. It's just me and JJ and no one's on my case about how the chaos that follows JJ Maybank won't be good for me. I don't want Pope, or even John B, to warn him that I might someday break his heart like I've done to boys in the past. Because when I'm with JJ, none of those thoughts even cross my mind, and I don't want anyone reminding me that our lives aren't perfect...and that they may not be perfect together.
But right now it is perfect. Because there's no one out there who can tell us otherwise.
"Wow. I did not expect either of you two to be awake yet." John B walks up next to the hammock and smirks. A guilty part of me is relieved that he doesn't point out JJ and mine's position.
JJ looks up. "Yeah, well, actually - "
I pull JJ against me even tighter and force a grin onto my lips. "We were too excited about last night to really sleep much."
Sarah comes up next to John B and mirrors his smirk. "And you were surprised they call you JJ's girl."
Both JJ and John B snap their head in the Kook's direction.
"What?" John B says. "What are you talking about?"
"When you guys stuck us on the boat in the middle of the marsh, I was telling Marleigh that everyone on the island calls her JJ's girl. If I didn't know you guys like I do now, I would have thought you were dating."
"Okay, please stop before I throw up," John B says and my heart tumbles deep into my gut.
I feel JJ's hand squeeze around my knee and I'm pulled out of the inevitable dreary thoughts that seem to follow behind John B's words. I pull my head up and rest my chin on the top of JJ's head and exhale a deep breath through my nose. One day at a time, I tell myself.
About a half hour later Kie and Pope arrive with breakfast burritos and coffees. The aroma of the dark roasted coffee beans immediately pulls me out of the dark wave that seemed to take over my mind until she got here and I kiss her on the cheek as a thank you.
As the group eats, we strategize a plan to get the rest of the gold. John B and Pope do most of the talking. Pope even draws up a little blue print of what the well looked like according to John B's description. By the end, the picture looked like it was drawn by a ten year old, but it was good enough to use for reference.
Later, Kie, Sarah, and I sit in the back of the Twinkie with the backdoors slid open. We huddle around Pope's diagram and giggle at the poorly drawn well in the Crain house.
"That's fifty feet down, and they're using 100-feet rope," Kie says. "So I guess this little wagon will go..."
Sarah giggles and points at Pope's drawing of the hole in the wall I had to climb through because John B was too big. "...straight to the gold room."
The three of us laugh and look out the front window to where Pope is helping John B gather all the other equipment we'll need to transport the weight of the gold. Surprisingly, Pope is looking directly back at us, but I don't think his gaze lies on me or Sarah, but the curly brunette who shakes her head at him with a grin.
I always had an inkling that Pope had a crush on Kie and I always hoped that Kie felt the same way. They weren't like JJ and I, where even when we were just friends, we would constantly be all over each other. But that made Pope's crush so much more cute and innocent. I'll have to ask Kie if she could ever see herself with someone like Pope, and if she says yes, I'm going to body slam her into this potential relationship.
If I could be happy for them, couldn't they be happy for me and JJ?
"Hey, everything okay?" Sarah asks, noticing how I dozed out of the conversation for a second.
I physically shake my thoughts out of my head and force a smile for the second time today. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."
"You sure? Is it about what I said about you and JJ on the hammock? I didn't mean to make it uncomfortable. I -"
"No, Sarah. It's okay," I say, this time my smile genuine. I even place a hand on her knee for an extra push to comfort her from thinking she embarrassed me or something. "That's not what I'm thinking about."
Well, it was. Sort of.
Kie doesn't say anything. She just looks between the two of us and puts two and two together. If it was about JJ, she would get me to talk about it later in private.
"Well," Sarah says, "I know I'm new to the group and everything, but I just want you to know you can always talk to me about anything. And you don't have to worry about me telling your brother. Chicks before dicks, right?"
I laugh. "Is that your version of 'bros before hoes?'"
Sarah nods. "Yeah, and I happen to like my phrase a lot more than that one."
"That's good. I'm going to use that for now on. Thank you, Sarah."
"Kie!" Speaking of the devil. JJ rounds to the side of the open doors and shakes his head at the girl. "This better work." He drops the chunk of gold bars at her feet and hands her the fire torch we're going to use to melt it. "We can't pawn this if there's a giant wheat symbol on it."
"It's gonna work," Kie tells him.
When we burn the gold bars into a heavy chunk of rock, we take it to the local pawn shop in town.
"Hell of a job melting it down, Dr. Frankenstein," JJ says as he wraps his backpack around his shoulders. His glare is directed at Kie as we all hop out of the car.
"Like you could have done any better," Kie scoffs.
"I could have. I took a welding class."
"You - When?"
"Who, whoa. Hey. Sh!" John B steps between the two bickering friends and holds out his arms to separate them. "Chill out okay?"
"Easy for you to say," JJ says. "You're not the one that has to pawn this piece of shit off. How did I get this job anyway?"
"'Cause you're the best liar," Pope says with a shrug.
John B nods in agreement. Then I feel a slap against my shoulders and John B squeezes them tightly. "But don't worry. You'll have the second best liar right by your side."
I shove John B's hands off of me and swivel on my feet to glare daggers at his head. This only makes him laugh.
The bell above the entrance door chimes, letting the workers know we're here. John B, Sarah, Pope, and Kie separate throughout the store, hiding behind different aisles, pretending to be interested in random junk that clutters the shelves.
JJ and I walk up to the front counter where a middle-aged African American woman is working. When we approach her, she raises one suspicious eyebrow as if sensing that JJ and I are trying to sell her absolute crap.
"Afternoon, ma'am," JJ says to her in a strange accent that doesn't necessarily sound southern but I think that was his goal. I have to bite down on my tongue to stop myself from laughing.
"Afternoon." The lady nods.
"I see you buy gold."
"That's what the sign say, don't it?" She points to the neon sign posted on the wall closest to the entrance door.
JJ hums. "Well, I sure hope you buy a lot of it, because I'm about to blow your mind."
"I ain't got much mind left to blow, so have at it."
JJ drops his backpack on the counter, looking up when the gold makes a loud clunking sound against the aging wood. The lady purses her lips, intrigued, and waits for JJ to flip the backpack over to reveal the molten gold.
"How about them gold apples?" JJ says.
Immediately, the lady shakes her head and scoffs at the piece of junk in front of her. "That ain't real."
"That ain't real?"
"It can't be," She scoffs.
"Feel how heavy it is," I finally speak up and look at her with a pointed look. JJ glances at me out of his peripheral vision but I make sure to keep my eyes focused on the woman.
"M-hm, m-hm," JJ hums when the lady has trouble picking it up, underestimating how heavy it really is.
"Let's get some light on that," The woman says. When she pulls the gold under her desk light she shakes her head again. "Spray-painted tungsten."
"Spray-painted tungsten? Really? Okay," JJ nods along with pursed lips. "Why don't you see how, uh, soft it is?"
"No, go for it."
The woman takes a small hammer and nails and pecks at the top part of the gold. When the rock doesn't even chip, I feel the corner of my lips pull up into a crooked smile.
"Wow. Would you look at that."
"Hold your horses," The woman holds up her hands. She's still in disbelief, but she's definitely becoming more apprehensive about the validity of this gold than she was before. "We ain't got to the acid test yet."
"Oh! The acid test," JJ says, looking over his shoulder at the others. "My favorite, guys."
I kick at JJ's ankle with the side of my foot in an attempt to get him to shut up. The last thing we need is for the woman to question us even more, especially now that we're this close to passing it off as real.
She takes out a small glass container filled with a clear liquid with a tint of green. She takes the dropper and places small drops on the surface of the gold. I don't even realize I'm holding my breath until she looks up and she's not smirking in triumph that we didn't trick her.
"Well, it ain't plated, and it ain't painted."
"Ma'am, I'm telling you, this is as real as the day is long."
"It looks like somebody tried to melt it down."
I open my mouth to come up with a lie on the spot because well, that's what I'm best at. However, JJ surprisingly beats me to it - I think getting into character way too much.
"My mom," He says quickly. I tilt my head up to look at him and the woman looks just as confused. "She had all this jewelry laying around the house, and she thought it was best to - to melt it down. To 'consolidate' it."
"Seven pounds? That's a lot of earrings."
I force myself not to close my eyes and shake my head. Of course a woman would question this story.
"Okay, to be honest ma'am," JJ clears his throat. "It's really hard to see my mom fall apart with Alzheimer's."
Now it's taking everything in me not to hide my face in my hands as I lean on the counter with my elbows.
"Mm-hmm," The woman nods. I don't think she actually buys JJ's story but it still doesn't make the validity of the gold any less possible. She glances between the gold and JJ before a taking step closer to the door to her right that leads to a back room. "Give me a minute."
"Take your time," I smile at her until she disappears behind the door.
When she's gone, our friends inch closer to us, some making fun of JJ's Alzheimer's story and the others worried that we aren't going to get away with this.
"You should have let me do the talking," I say in a hushed whisper.
"It worked, didn't it?" JJ says.
"She's coming out," Kie says and immediately turns around, her and the other's pretending like they were stalking off to a new artifact that caught their attention.
The woman clears her throat. "I talked to my boss."
"And?" I ask.
"And, uh, this is what I can do."
She slides a piece of paper across the counter in front of JJ and I. JJ takes it in his hand and almost scoffs when he sees the amount of money written down.
"Fifty thousand? You think I walked in here not knowing the spot price? Ma'am, I know for a fact this is worth 140, at least."
Adrenaline pumps through my body even with the possibility of getting the smallest offer at fifty thousand. I try not to show my excitement and dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand. We're so close to being rich, I can almost smell our future success. And it smells sweet.
"Well, sweetie, you in a pawnshop," She says. "This ain't Zurich. Do I look Swiss to you?"
JJ bites down on his bottom lip. "Ninety, or I walk."
"Seventy," She negotiates with us. She even glances behind our shoulders at our friends who are growing more anxious by the second. "Half price, and um...I don't ask questions about where you got this."
JJ looks at me for an answer. Out of the corner of my eye, I see John B smiling at Pope and Kie and Sarah giving me a thumbs up.
"We're gonna need that in large denominations, please," I say sweetly.
"Well, here's the snag. I don't have that much denominated. Not here anyway. I can write you a cashier's check."
JJ shakes his head. "Cash...No ma'am. I want the cold hard. That what that sign says," He says, using her own words against her. "Cash for gold. And that's what I expect. I'm gonna get it in cold hard."
The lady sighs. "Well, I have to send you to the warehouse. I have the money there. Is that all right?"
JJ smirks and leans further into the counter. "Where's this warehouse?"
The woman writes down the address on a piece of paper and pushes back the gold. I thank her for her time and follow our friends back out to the van. Immediately John B drives in the direction of the warehouse. All of us are bouncing on our feet at the thought of holding over ten thousand dollars in cash.
However, the further we drive, the more I become confused about our whereabouts. We start to pass less and less stores and homes. The longer we drive, the less cars there are on the road. Blocking us in on the left and right is an array of trees and forestry. Something in the back of my head is trying to tell me that this is a bad idea, but the thought of seventy thousand dollars pushes that voice away.
"So they keep money out here?" Kie says as she looks out the window. At least I'm not the only one growing suspicious about the location of this warehouse.
"That's what she said," JJ says before realizing what he said. Then he chuckles to himself and looks at Pope. "That's what she said."
"Stop," Pope says immediately, making me laugh.
JJ's smile instantly falls.
"I've never even heard of Resurrection Drive," Sarah says from the passenger seat.
"'Cause you're rich," JJ says.
Kie shakes her head at JJ. "You've never heard of it either."
Sarah turns around and smirks. "Thank you."
Kie looks back out the window and her eyebrows furrow. "There's nothing but weeds back here."
"All right, just 'cause it's just weeds, doesn't mean it's like..." JJ stops when blue and red lights flicker from the back seat. Then come the sirens.
"Cops? Out here?" Kie turns around in her seat to look out the window.
I push myself up so I'm sitting straight and narrow my eyes in the direction of the lights. Although the lights are almost blinding, I can tell the car isn't the usual Kildare County Police SUV. Trust me, I've been in the backseat of those cars one too many times. Maybe it's an undercover vehicle?
Something about this situation puts me on edge and I don't like it.
"God! Are you kidding me?" JJ says, shuffling in his seat.
"What did we do?" Sarah says and looks at my brother. Maybe he was speeding and we didn't know. Maybe he rolled a stop sign we didn't see. Who knows? "Why are we getting pulled over?"
JJ fumbles with his backpack that's not only storing seventy thousand dollars worth of gold but also his illegal marijuana.
"Stash that." Pope points at the bag as if JJ wasn't already trying to do just that.
"Chill, guys -" JJ snaps.
"Put it -"
"I hate cops." JJ stuffs the bag in the opening under his seat cushion in the back seat. He stumbles to sit back down on that seat and folds his hands on his lap to look nonchalant.
"Did you bring the gun?" Kie asks.
"No. Okay? Everybody told me to leave it back at the place."
"Thank God," Kie sighs with relief.
"He's walking up," Pope says.
John B straightens up in his seat and mutters to himself. "Nothing better to do -"
John B stops mid thought, causing me to look up at what's got him so startled. Only when I do, I feel my heart skip a beat and my blood turn into ice. Standing on the other side of the window is a man with long black hair tied into a bun on the top of his head. He has a black mask with a white skeleton mouth around the bottom half of his face and a shot gun aimed at my brother.
I feel my head and heart pulled into two different directions. My head is telling me to put my hands up in surrender, show this guy that we're not dangerous and there's no need for him to shoot us. My heart is telling me to somehow place my body in front of my brother's as if that would save him against a mad man with a shotgun.
He's definitely not a cop which means he's a hot head that somehow got whiff of our gold possession. I mean what other reason would he have to stop this crappy car that isn't worth more than the gun he's holding?
I follow my head and stay frozen in place, afraid that any sudden movement would make this guy flinch and pull the trigger. Next to me, JJ tenses and his jaw becomes as sharp as a knife.
"Why don't I go ahead and see them hands in the air?" The man says. "All y'all's hands up in the air now!" He rips John B's door open and motions with his gun for him to come out. "You, out of the car! Let's go! Out of the car Let's go! Hurry!" John B walks to the other side of the car, followed by the black-haired man with his gun against John B's back. "Let them out!" John B hesitates. "What are you waiting on? What are you waiting on? Let them out!"
Kie's breath hitches in her throat and Sarah whimpers from the front seat. JJ's looks more pissed than afraid and Pope looks like he's seen a ghost.
I clench my teeth together and hold up my hands like he demanded. Even though I'm terrified of this man and what he might do to me and my friends, I'm more pissed off that we keep getting guns shoved in our faces.
John B slides the door open. Pope and Kie are the first ones to slide out of the van. John B helps Sarah out of the passenger seat and holds his body close to her to protect her. I feel JJ's hand grip at my hip and his fingers wrap around my shirt to make sure I don't go far.
"All y'all! Go on! Go on! Let's get out of the car! Let's go! There you go, pretty girl. Here we go!" He says when I step out of the car. I feel his stare on my body longer than it should have been, making me inch closer to JJ.
"We're broke -" JJ tries to tell him.
"Shut the hell up!" He cuts him off with a shout. "All right! Just relax! Shut up!"
"Chill!" JJ yells back at him.
My hand squeezes around JJ's wrist to urge him to shut up. The last thing I want is for JJ to get his head blown off because he made the man mad.
"Lay down in the ditch! Lay down in the ditch!"
Behind us, the grass next to the road dips down into a small hill. The five of us line up with our hands behind our head and we lay on our stomachs.
My heart's beating so wildly that I think it's rising up my throat and suffocating me. I can barely breathe, knowing that this guy is going to take everything we worked for and maybe even put a bullet in our brains for shits and giggles.
"On your goddman hands and knees! Down! Put your face on the ground!" We do as we're told, each one of us shaking in our own skin. I can feel JJ's intense gaze on the side of my head as I squeeze my eyes tight and try to even my labored pants. We're not going to get through this if all of us are panicked. "Don't let me see you look up! All right? That's all ya'll gotta do."
"It's a setup, guys," JJ mutters into his bicep. "That old bat, shanked us."
The guy with the gun rummages through the van. Every bang, every clunk, every curse that comes out of this guy's mouth makes me flinch further into the ground.
"Fuck! Goddamn it!"
He comes back around with his shot gun aimed at my head specifically. JJ's knees jerk upwards, like he's about to hop up and clock this guy in the face but my arm shoots out before he can, squeezing his wrist, trying to force him to stop.
The man sees both of our reactions and snickers to himself. "Looks like I know which one's your lady, my friend." His smile drops and he bends at his knees to get closer to JJ's face. "Make another move like that and I put a bullet in her head." He turns his head to look at me. "You. Come with me."
"No!" JJ shouts.
"Hey! What did I just say?" The guy pulls me up by my arm and shoves the gun to the side of my neck. His grip around my arm tightens as I try to flinch away from him. My breathing becomes ragged and all the anger I had for this man turns into fear with the blink of an eye.
"Fuck..." I hear John B grumble. He's looking up at me, terror in his eyes.
He pulls me into the van, forcing me on my hands and knees. I bite back the scream that threatens to escape and squeeze my eyes shut. The barrel of the gun stabs me in the back, causing me to collapse on the floor.
"Where is it? Huh?" His mouth inches closer to the back of my head and I physically have to swallow the vile that builds its way up my throat. "I know it's in here. And if you don't help me find it...well, it'd be a shame for a beautiful girl like you to get her face blown off."
My stomach twists with dread as I pull myself further into the van. I'm conflicted. Giving up the gold feels like I'm giving up my first born child. It's just crazy how hard we've worked to find something for it to all be taken away from us...literally.
But there's still about four hundred million dollars for us to get. And I need to do whatever will get this man away from us the quickest. No amount of money means more to me than my friends' lives.
I pretend to fumble around in the cluttered van, giving myself more time to really think this through. When my hands skim the fabric of JJ's backpack, I hesitantly pull it out from under the driver's seat.
"Give it to me! Give it to me!"
He yanks the bag out of my hand, forcing me to fall backwards on my butt. I bite down on my lip harshly to keep myself together - hating the idea of this man seeing me break down.
I sniffle back my tears as the man pulls me back to my friends and shoves me forward next to JJ. JJ's hand finds mine and our fingers interlace.
"All right! Ya'll stay like that," The guys inches back to his car but keeps his gun trained on us. "Unless you want your brains blown out, all over this road, don't move your goddamn heads, okay?"
I scoot closer to JJ and hide my face on the outside of his shoulder. I'm hoping that when I open my eyes, I'll be back in the hammock and this will be all one big nightmare.
I hear his car door open and shut. I peak my eyes open to look at JJ and he nods his head once. His way of telling me we're going to be okay.
As I'm about to pull myself up on my knees, commotion erupts from the inside of the man's car. I snap my head sideways and my mouth drops open in shock when I see John B fighting the guy out of his car.
"Guys, I got the gun!"
JJ's the first one to run after them both and helps my brother pull the man completely out of the front seat. He slams his fist against the man's cheek and kicks him once in the side.
The rest of us follow him. Even Kie kicks him in the stomach and Sarah, always taking me by surprise, slams his car door into the side of his head, forcing his knees to dig further into the dirt until he collapses on the ground.
I bend down and rip the mask off the man's face. The first thing I notice is his teeth. The top ones jut forward. Most of them yellow, but some of them are missing. His bottom teeth are garnished with gold grills. The one and only thing that looks expensive on his body, making me wonder how he got them.
"I know this piece of shit!" JJ points at him, seething through his teeth. "He's a basehead!"
"Probably knows my brother," Sarah says.
"He sells coke to my dad."
I clench my teeth together so hard, I think they might crack against each other.
He raises his hands in surrender and shakes his head. "Listen, I couldn't hurt any single one of y'all -"
JJ doesn't let him finish. He's smashing his fist against his face again until the guy is basically nothing but a flapping fish on the ground.
"JJ!" Kie says.
Pope moves to try and get JJ away from him. "Dude, chill, man!"
JJ pulls the guy's wallet out of his pant pockets and fumbles through it. He throws useless credit cards away and pulls out his license.
"Come on, lets get outta here."
I look at JJ, waiting for him to take another swing at him. Knowing who this guy is has changed the game for him. It's not about his attempt to rob us of the gold. It's not even the fact he held a gun to my head and made me find the gold for him. It's about JJ's dad. The reason why his father beats him when he has a temper tantrum. He sells him the drugs that put him on edge.
"JJ..." I say slowly. JJ deserves to be angry. This man basically has been ruining his life. But that doesn't mean I want him doing anything stupid.
JJ looks up and waves the license around. "We got one last stop."
"Hey!" John B calls out for him, but JJ is already making his way back to the van. This time he takes the driver's seat.
"Let's go see where this son of a bitch lives," JJ says before shutting the door.
"I'm gonna remember this shit!" The guy says as the rest of us run back to the van. "You can't hide from me! I know exactly who y'all are! Huh? You're gonna see me again! You hear me?"
John B takes the guy's keys out of his car's ignition and throws them as far as he can into the woods.
"Come on!" JJ yells.
"You hear me?" The guy calls out for us. His threats become even more muffled when I slide the back door closed again.
JJ drives in the opposite direction of where we were originally going. The van is quiet with everyone trying to catch their breath and comprehend what just happened.
JJ pulls the van up to a house far off the road. The yard is littered with different outdoor and indoor furniture, trash, and beer and liquor bottles. His one floor home looks even worse than the Chateau. Some of the windows are busted and the screen door that leads into his home is ripped off it's hinges.
"Welcome to Crackhead Wasteland," Sarah mutters.
"I don't know about this, man," Pope says apprehensively.
"Dude, why are we at Barry's?" John B says.
Barry, the guy with the gun.
"This'll only take a second," JJ says as he gets out of the van and slams the door behind him.
Kie opens the back door to let some air into the car. But I don't care about the fresh breeze or the disgusting smell coming from somewhere in Barry's yard. I keep my eyes trained on the back of JJ's head as he walks further away.
"Where you going?"
"Yo soy justicia," JJ says, disappearing into the house.
"Did you glean anything from that?" Pope asks.
Kie looks at me and says, "You know somebody should probably -"
I grunt. "Yeah, I got it."
My face curls up into a cringe when I walk through the house. Immediately, I'm hit in the face with the smell of old cigarette smoke and weed and I have to physically stop myself from gagging after looking in the kitchen sink. I don't even know what I saw but it definitely wasn't food.
I follow the sound of random objects being thrown across the room and find JJ in the only bedroom.
JJ ignores my presence and walks by me to ransack Barry's drawers. "I know you got a stash around here somewhere."
"What are you doing?"
"Well, as thou hath stealeth from us, we shall stealeth from ye."
"An eye for an eye, Marleigh."
"JJ, think about this. He's a drug dealer - he had a gun to my head! All because he wanted our gold. What do you think he's going to do when he realizes we stole from him? He knows who we are!"
JJ swivels around to look at me. His eyes are narrowed in a glare and even though his anger isn't supposed to be directed at me, Barry isn't here to push his rage on to.
"I'm not scared of this guy."
I hear the screen door slam shut and for a split second, my heart stops beating. I hold my breath until John B walks into the room, his eyes immediately finding JJ's. I finally exhale when I know Barry is still stuck on the side of the road somewhere.
"What are you doing?" John B asks him.
"Getting even!" JJ snaps and pushes John B to the side to get to Barry's closest.
JJ throws clothes and hangers over his shoulder, haphazardly onto the bed behind him. A second later, he pulls out a backpack with bundles of money inside. JJ looks up at us with a smirk then piles the money back into the bag.
"All right. Let's go." JJ says, walking towards the door.
John B rolls his eyes and grabs JJ by the shoulders to force the blonde to look at him. "Hey, look at me. If you keep going down this road, you're gonna end up just like your dad, do -"
JJ instantly shoves John B back into he nearest wall and points his finger right in front of my brother's face. I don't move or say anything, knowing that John B said the wrong thing and he couldn't take it back.
"You watch your mouth, man." JJ inhales sharply and shakes his head, exasperated. "Aren't you tired of being messed with?"
"That's not the point, JJ."
"'Cause I am."
JJ walks out of the room, leaving only John B and I in the house. Once JJ has a plan set in stone in his head, it's hard to deter him to do something else. He's stubborn but he's also passionate. He doesn't want people like Barry getting away with making other people's lives miserable - just like the Kooks. JJ thought of a revenge plan and in his mind, nothing can make him turn around and put the money back. He's passionate about the people he loves. Not only me, but all of our friends. Barry threatened all of us with a bullet to our brains. He stole our gold. JJ wasn't just going to let him get away with that.
We reluctantly follow JJ out of the house. I subtly shake my head when Kie looks over JJ's shoulder, confused on why he's still holding onto Barry's money.
"All right, so we're looking at five grand each for reparations for putting us through that bull shit," JJ says to the others and reaches into the bag to show them the money. He does this all with a smile on his face. Like nothing is wrong. "Sorry about that y'all."
"So that's what we're doing now?" Kie says with her arms crossed at her chest. "We're robbing drug dealers?"
"This Barry guy's gonna find out." Pope adds. "And he's gonna come after us."
"Yes, he will. This is not the time to start wildin' out!" John B says, exaggerating the same points he tried to make inside.
"How'd you like having a gun pulled on you?" JJ says and takes another step closer to John B. He holds up his fingers, pointed like a gun, at JB's head.
"Relax," Kie scolds.
JJ ignores her. "He had it right here on you, bro. He hurt Marleigh! Threatened to kill her!"
"Look. We've gotta go get that gold, okay? Just give me that shit. We're putting it back." John B reaches for the bag but JJ is quick to pull it further away from him. "Do you feel like a tough guy? Huh? What are you gonna do when he comes for us?"
JJ shrugs like it's no big deal. "We punch him in the throat."
This makes me roll my eyes and I look away. JJ's gotta a good heart - it's in the right place, but he doesn't think his plans through. Usually it just bugs the hell out of me and sometimes it worries me.
"Yeah, good fuckin' idea, JJ," John B shouts.
JJ shakes his head. "I'm not putting it back."
He turns to walk back to the van and takes his seat in the back. When the rest of us don't follow him, I look down at the ground. Although I know what JJ is doing is wrong, I feel guilty about not backing him up.
"You guys getting in or what?" He says. No one responds. They only shake their head at him and glare daggers in his direction. This frustrates JJ even more, making him hop out of the car and look between all of us. "What?"
"We're sick of your shit." John B says.
"Oh, my shit?" JJ scoffs.
"Yeah. Yeah. Your shit."
Kie nods. "Your pulling guns on people shit."
"You acting like a maniac -" Pope starts to say but JJ cuts him off.
"Okay, Pope, I took the fall for you, man! Know how much I owe because of you?"
I narrow my eyes in JJ's direction. That was a low blow. Pope never asked for JJ to take the fall for him. If anything, Pope already feels guilty enough about the consequences JJ has to face because of it. The last thing he needs is another reminder.
"I'm gonna pay you back, and I didn't ask you to do that!"
"I just did!" JJ scoffs with a humorless laugh. "Pay it back. Right here, right now, by myself. You know what? That's exactly what I'm gonna do. Go off by myself."
"JJ..." I say slowly.
"Hey, wait, man." John B tries to call for him but JJ ignores all of us.
"Just let him go," Sarah says softly and places a comforting hand on John B's wrist.
I, however, ignore her advice and jog closer to JJ. When he's in reach, I grab him by the elbow, forcing to him to turn around. Immediately, he snaps his body away from me. I try to ignore the pang of hurt and rejection I feel in that moment and remind myself that all of our friends basically just told JJ off, ending it with a 'fuck you' at the end. He deserves to feel betrayed.
"Hey..." My brows pinch together in confusion. I need more answers. I need to know why this is so important to him.
"JJ, talk to me." I know I'm in earshot of the other eavesdropping ears behind me, but right now, I really don't care. I don't care if they see that I care more than they do. I don't care if they see that I'm more worried than I am mad. I just care about JJ.
"Now you care?" JJ asks. His voice is filled with hurt and betrayal. I physically take a step back in disbelief. My mouth opens to say something - to explain myself, but I can't make out any words. I don't know what to say. I don't even know how to feel.
"I - I've always cared -"
"You didn't say a damn thing back there."
"What do you want me to say, J? That taking this money is smart? That punching Barry in the throat is going to be enough to get him off our back? No, JJ! I actually think this plan of yours is really fucking stupid."
"Is that why you didn't say anything? Are you embarrassed of me or something?"
"What are you talking about?"
Again, I'm lost for words. I don't think he's talking about the money anymore. This sounds like something different - anger directed towards me specifically.
"Maybe that's why you don't want to tell John B about us. Huh? Is that why?"
"Tell John B, what exactly?" I hear my brother say behind me.
I spin on my heels and look at my brother with big eyes. His arms are crossed, his face pinched in confusion. I didn't hear him walk up to us. But he's not looking at me. He keeps his stare frozen on JJ.
My head feels like it's spinning around in a tornado. Suddenly my mouth feels dry and my hands start to sweat profusely. I'm not worried about John B finding out about JJ and I. In fact, I'm not even thinking about John B at all, but about what JJ thinks I think of him. My brain scrambles to come up with things that I did to make JJ feel this way.
I could never think of JJ as an embarrassment. Even now as he fights with our friends about stealing money from a violent drug dealer.
"That I'm fucking your sister, bro!"
John B physically snaps forward and slams his fist against JJ's face.
I inhale a sharp gasp and spring forward to pull John B off of JJ, who are now both rolling on the ground.
Pope pushes past me and yanks JJ away by his shirt. I grab John B by the back of his shoulders and push him further way from JJ, towards Kie and Sarah who have jogged over.
"Stop!" I shout, ignoring the shocked and concerned looks I get from everybody else. "Stop! Everyone just stop!"
"See, Mar. That's the difference between you and me. I'm not going to let people take advantage of me and get away with it!" JJ says as he pants for breath.
I clench my teeth together tightly and blink back the tears that cloud my vision. When I glance up at JJ, I wish I never did. He's fuming, red in the face with sweat glistening at his hairline.
I don't want to be here anymore. The air feels thin and I can hardly breathe. Every pair of eyes that fall on me feel like a burning hole through my skin. I don't know what's gotten into JJ, but I don't like it. He knows better than to compare what he's doing to my situation with Rafe. It's not fair.
I feel dumb and stupid. Is that all I ever was to JJ? A night of fucking? His words make my skin crawl with regret, something I never thought I would ever experience with JJ.
"...Not cool man," I can barely hear Pope tell JJ through the thudding in my head.
"You know what JJ?" I say when I finally catch my breath. "Go ahead. Take the money. Show Barry who's boss. But when it comes back to blow up in your face, don't come crying to me about it."
If I wasn't looking for it, I might not have seen the hint of regret cross his features. But the second I saw it is the second it dropped. Now I don't even know if I had even seen it at all.
"Mar..." I feel Kie's hand around my wrist, trying to pull me back to the van.
"Go ahead JJ! Walk away! No one's going to stop you." I continue to yell.
JJ sniffles and presses his lips together in a thin line. I know he wants to say something else but he doesn't. He swallows his pride and nods once. Without looking at anyone else, he turns around and walks away. He doesn't look back once and I don't know if I'm grateful for that or disheartened by it.
"Marleigh -" John B takes a step closer to me but I wave him off.
"Don't," I say and make the first move to the van.
I feel physically sick. Worse than I did when Barry was holding a gun to my head. For the first time, I don't have JJ to fall back on and distract me.
I don't know what's going to happen to us. Does JJ not love me like he told me he did? Was it all a lie to get me to sleep with him? No. It couldn't be. You can't fake that kind of emotion that I've seen from him in the past couple weeks. You just can't. I refuse to believe it. Maybe what we need is some time apart to get our heads back on straight. After that, I can only hope everything goes back to the way it was.
Tag List: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @jeeperky @realistic-breadstick @moniamaybank @urbinoutfiters @brebear121 @x-lulu @freddymaybank @jjpouggues @lemur46 @is-it-really-a-secret @kkmikayla @folkloverr @alexa-playafricabytoto @jjxrudy @migilini @stellarskys
Falling For You -KK
Warnings: Language, fluff, dehydration, terrible jokes and pick ups lines.
Pairing: Kon Kent x Batsis!Reader
Word Count: 2.7K
Taglist is at the bottom, check out my pinned post if you want to be on it!
A/N: To the Anon who requested this, I hope you love it! I had a blast writing it, and thank you to my proofers. This fic would not be as great as it is with out you. Also this is my passive aggressive way of telling you all to stay hydrated.
You stared at your closet, glaring at the different articles of clothing in there. With a closet as expansive as yours was, it was hard to pick an outfit to wear. Being an adopted child of Bruce Wayne came with many things, most of them were good: you had a safe place to live, a manor full of people who loved you and you loved them all just as much. But it also came with its downsides. Everyone save for Alfred, dressed up and fought crime each night.
You were the most recent to take over the helm of Batgirl. Cass had stepped down and you were trained by Barbara and Stephanie to help you become a hero much like they are. Being in similar age to Tim, you were often paired together to make patrol a little easier.
Your relationship with him was the strongest. A lot of people often thought you were dating only for you guys to laugh about it and inform them that you were in fact siblings saying that you never saw the other as anything but that.
Being so close to Tim, you had gotten to know his friends. And that included a certain super who you took quite a liking to. Being the great detective he was, Tim picked up on your attraction immediately and never failed to pick on you every chance he got.
It was his best friend after all.
He watched in amusement as you paced around your room trying to decide what to wear. Clark was bringing Lois, Kon, and Jon over to the manor to have a get-together. Kara would have joined but she had her own business to attend to.
“Y/N, you are putting way too much thought into this. Just wear something blue, it’s his favorite color.” Tim shrugged.
“But Timetria, I don’t want to look desperate,” you argued.
The look he gave you did not go unnoticed. “I’ll never understand girl logic,” he muttered. “Just wear something you like. Confidence is key, isn’t that what you told me when I started dating Steph?”
You rolled your eyes at him. “That’s beside the point Timberella. Before you and Steph got together, you were a shy nerd boy who blushed at the thought of Steph talking to you. You needed that confidence boost.”
“And you’re saying that you don’t?” he asked. “If you have to think twice about what you need to wear then you really aren’t all that confident.”
Turning to look at Tim, you threw the closest thing you had (which just happened to be a shoe). “Can it, Timantha, I am plenty confident and I’ll show you,” you huffed.
Sensing a challenge, Tim got to his feet and looked at you with a grin. “Oh yeah? Then the second he gets here, ask him out. If you’re so confident, walk right up to him and ask him out,” he challenged. “Twenty bucks says you won’t.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. What was Tim planning? He had that same look in his eyes when he had an elaborate plan in the works and you were scared to know what he was up to. Part of you wanted to decline because even though you would never admit it, you were scared of Timothy Drake when he had that look in his eyes. But you also knew he would never let you live it down if you turned down his challenge and that was almost worse than suffering from whatever plan he had cooking in his brain.
“Alright fine. I will.” You snapped and kicked him out of your room so you could finally get dressed. You were going to beat Tim at his own challenge and make him eat his words.
Within the hour, you were dressed in an outfit that was simple: A t-shirt and jeans with a bright blue bikini underneath, complimented with a pair of sneakers. You exited your room only to see Tim waiting right outside your door with his arms crossed.
“You ready to lose Timberly?” you teased.
Tim rolled his eyes and looked at you. “Is it physically impossible for you to call me by my actual name?” he asked.
You grinned. “Of course not,” putting a hand on his shoulder you laughed. “You should know me better than that Timbertha.”
“That’s the worst one you have ever come up with.”
“Isn’t this what sisters are for?”
Tim reached up to ruffle your hair, only for you to dodge under his arm and lightly punch him in the gut. Stumbling back, Tim groaned softly and held his stomach. “I forgot you have quick reflexes. Seems like Bab’s and Steph’s training has paid off,” he commented.
“All the better to kick your ass in sparring,” you grinned.
“Come on, everyone is already outback waiting for us,” he said and led you down the stairs and out the back doors. It was a hot summer day outside and so Bruce and Clark decided to have an outdoor barbeque to enjoy the nice weather. Dick, Jason, Damian, and Jon were all in the pool playing a game of chicken fight. With Damian on Jason’s shoulders and Jon on Dick’s, they were evenly matched teams.
Jon may have been half kryptonian, but Jason had the extra height and weight Dami needed to try and get the edge on his friend. Duke floated on an inflated ring with a lemonade in his hand just taking a moment to soak in the warm light. Steph, Cass, and Bab’s were off to the side enjoying the sun while Bruce and Clark talked shop while grilling up the food. Lois and Selina sipped on different cocktails and enjoyed the other company while watching the boys play. The only one you couldn’t see was Kon. You couldn’t win your bet with Tim if he was nowhere in sight.
“Looking for a certain someone so I can watch you crash and burn?” Tim taunted.
Turning on your heel to glare at Tim, you didn’t notice a certain super float down behind you waiting to catch you by surprise.
“You know Timberlina, just because Steph is my best friend it doesn’t mean that I won’t--ah!”
A pair of hands came up from behind, catching you by surprise and trying to tickle you. Instinctively, you swung around to punch whoever it was only for Kon to catch your fist before it could hit his nose and hurt your hand.
“Didn’t you learn from the last time you tried punching me? You broke your hand on my face.” Kon chuckled looking down at you.
You huffed and shot him a glare. “Didn’t you learn from the last time you tried tickling me, I can find other ways to hurt you than with my fist.”
Kon’s eyes held a hint of amusement, even after all these years he never got tired of your threats and snarky attitude. Tightening his grip on your hand, he pulled you closer so you were pressed up against his chest. “You wouldn’t want to hurt me though, right?”
One simple action had you flustered beyond belief. His face hovered right above yours and you could feel his hot breath fan over your face. The grip he had on your hand tightened as he glanced at it with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You knew that look, and it never meant something good.
Of course, you couldn’t ignore the snickering coming from Tim who stood behind you. He really thought that he was going to win your bet? This was your chance to prove him wrong. You opened your mouth to speak, but when Kon placed a kiss on your knuckles the words died in your throat.
“Something the matter, Sunshine?” he teased.
Pulling your hand from his grip, you huffed. “Yeah, you look like you need to cool off hotshot.” With a grin, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him into the pool with a loud splash.
The water splashed all around him as he flailed trying to keep himself above water. Not that he could actually drown. He hit the pool with such force that it knocked waves into Dick and Jason who both almost tumbled over with the boys still on their shoulders. Duke was flipped off his floatie, his lemonade dumping all over himself with a shout of surprise.
At this point, Tim was beside himself with laughter. He knew that Kon could easily get you flustered, but he also knew you could be extremely petty when you wanted to be. Glancing at him, you grinned.
“Since you think it’s so funny Timelina, why don’t you join him!” you shouted as you pushed him into the pool with a laugh.
TIm sputtered as he came up for air and threw you a glare as Kon started laughing at his best friend. “Damn, pushed by your own sister. That has to hurt,” he snickered.
You rolled your eyes and walked over to the chairs where the other girls were sipping on their lemonade. Sitting next to Steph, she brushed your shoulder. “Gonna change and get some sun with us?”
“You girls could come play Chicken Fight with us!” Dick called with Jon still on his shoulders. “I’m sure we can wrangle Duke in with us, can’t we buddy?” he asked wrapping an arm around Duke’s now sopping shoulders.
“I’m already soaking wet, and my lemonade is gone so by all means drag me into a pool game,” he narrowed his eyes at Dick who only laughed at his brother.
“Knew I could count on you.”
You pulled your shirt off as you looked over at them. “What are the teams? Last I checked there is an odd number of us. Someone has to be a referee.” You called out, tossing your shorts and shoes with your shirt.
“I’ll referee and get myself another lemonade.” Duke answered quickly, almost too quickly.
“Convenient Duke, it’s like you don’t want to play.” You called with a laugh.
Duke looked over at you from the drink table, “Maybe because I don’t!” He hollered back.
You stifled a laugh as you, Babs, Cass, and Steph all climbed into the pool. Steph teamed up with Tim, and Jason passed Dami to Cass before pulling Barbara up onto his shoulders. That left you and Kon as a team.
Turning to you with a grin, Kon held your waist and lifted you onto his shoulders with ease. You tried to fight the heat crawling up your neck, you just couldn’t tell if it was from the heat or embarrassment.
“Alright Duke, count us off!” Dick called.
“Three, two, one, go!” he counted.
Kon held a tight grip on your thighs as you went up against Jason and Babs, trying to push her off of his shoulders. Steph was trying to push Damian off of Cass’s shoulders with the help of Jon and Dick. His grip on your thighs tightened as you tried your hardest to push her over. Kon and Jason were roughly the same height but Babs was a little taller than you, so she had the height advantage. But you were on the shoulders of a kryptonian clone, it didn’t matter how much strength Jason had, it didn’t match up to Kon’s.
Shaking off the sudden fatigue, you urged forward and was finally able to push Barbara off of Jason’s shoulders, sending them both down with a splash. You covered your eyes to block out the water and laughed as they both surfaced up and glared at you.
Hearing the splash and your laughter, Tim, Steph, Cass, Damian, Dick, and Jon all turned to look at you. You could hear Duke’s laughter ring around the area and you gulped.
“Jay and Babs are out, Y/N and Kon have made themselves targets. This should be fun,” he grinned, sipping from his new cup of lemonade.
You looked down at Kon as he looked up at you, you gave each other a look before he walked forwards for you to take on Damian with Jon and Dick at your side while Tim and Steph tried to push you off of Kon’s shoulders. The tired feelling hadn’t gone away and now it was accompanied with a headache. You shook your head to try and make it go away, but it wasn’t working.
The hot sun was beating down on your body, the cool water not doing much to cool you off. You hadn’t consumed any water, lemonade, or any other cool drink that was being served. Slowly, you grew more and more exhausted.
Your hands loosened their grip with Damian’s while you still tried to push him off. Watching your face, he could see that you didn’t look okay and gave you a questioning look.
Steph seemed to notice your sudden decrease in energy too. “Y/N?” she asked. “You alright?”
You didn’t get another word out before you lost consciousness and fell off of Kon’s shoulders.
“Y/N? Y/N, wake up.”
Quickly you shot up and coughed, expelling the water from your lungs. Taking a look around you saw that Bruce and Kon were kneeling in front of you. Water droplets fell from Kon’s damp hair, the sun reflecting the ones off his bare torso.
“What happened?” you asked.
“You fainted, fell right off my shoulders. Are you alright?” Kon asked.
You began to nod when Bruce held the back of his hand up to your head and let out a sigh. “You’re burning up, when was the last time you hydrated?” he asked, concern evident in his tone.
You gave your adopted father a sheepish smile. “Before I came outside?” you answered.
Bruce gave you a harsh look. “You should have known better, I want you to rest and drink water,” he said in his best dad voice.
“I’ll sit and keep an eye on her,” Kon said.
Giving him a grateful look, Bruce helped you up before Kon took you into his arms and carried you to lie down on a chair in the shade.
Tim came over with several bottles of ice water and sat them down next to you. He shot you a pointed look that you opted to ignore. Your bet with him was still going, but neither of you anticipated you passing out in the middle of a game.
“Hey Timeline, can you get me a popsicle?” you asked him.
Tim raised a brow to try and hide the grin on his face. “Sure, I’ll be right back,” he said and walked off towards the ice chest. Once he was gone, you turned to look at Kon who was watching you with intent eyes.
You both laughed as he signaled you to speak first. “Go ahead,” he smiled.
Taking a deep breath you looked at him, “I have something to ask you,” you started. “Would you be willing to go out with me?”
The question had left your lips so quickly that Kon didn’t even register what it was you said. He had a look of confusion on his face as he slowly blinked, trying to decipher the words to your question.
He raised a finger and opened his mouth, he went to say something then stopped before he looked at you once more.
“Did you just ask me out?”
You bit your lip softly and nodded.
Kon sat next to you quietly before he started laughing. You could feel the tense smile drop into a frown. Was he laughing at you?
Catching the look on your face, he held his hands out. “No! That’s not what I am laughing at,” he said quickly.
You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “Oh yeah? Then what were you laughing at?”
“I guess you literally fell for me?” he teased.
You couldn’t hold your giggles in, watching his face morph into a cheeky grin. “You’re such a dork,” you smiled. “By the way, Tim owes me twenty bucks.”
Kon laughed harder at your statement. “It’s okay, he owes me twenty as too,” he said. “He bet that I would ask you out first, looks like he lost and has no faith in your abilities.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get him back.”
Taglist: @kishony-the-geek @unknowntoanyone @subtleappreciation @catxsnow @river-bottom-nightmares @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @woahjaybird @battlenix @littleredwing89 @offendedfishnoises @batarella @arestorationofbalance
New Girl on the Block (4)
(Y’all ready to read the next update??? Enjoy part four of this fic and if you’re interested, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called the Journal Entries. It’s just little journal snippets from the two dorks that I decided to write for fun :D)
Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Ch.5
Chapter 4: Get to Know You
Marinette slipped on her white, non-flour-covered leather jacket and pushed her pigtails back so they wouldn’t be tucked into her outfit. She then smoothed out her pink dress with a smile, admiring the black flowers that she’d stitched along the bottom. This dress had been one of her stress-relieving projects, but it turned out quite well, in her opinion.
Once Papa had finished teaching her friends how to fold the dough, he put their croissants into the fridge to chill them and instructed everyone to go upstairs and wash up. Marinette dutifully took them up to her room where her personal bathroom was and taught them how to use the shower, but when she tried to lead one of them to her parent’s bathroom as well, they insisted that she take a shower there herself.
“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we forced the ladies to wait on us?” Claude had said light-heartedly, though she could tell he meant it. Allegra’s smirk as she walked in the bathroom to take a shower first was proof of that.
The notion had warmed Marinette’s heart, coaxing a giggle from her each time she thought about it. It might be hard to see sometimes, but Claude, Allan, and Felix truly were a considerate and chivalrous group of boys.
Now, She’s finished her shower in her parent’s bathroom and gone back up to her bedroom, where Allegra, Claude, and Allan had been patiently waiting. Allegra was nice and clean again, wearing the long, purple shirt and black leggings that Marinette had given her, and Claude appeared to have just exited the shower, his damp hair sticking to his face and dripping across his borrowed, black and blue “O.K” shirt. Allan was still covered in flour.
Allegra smiled at Marinette from her spot on the chaise as she re-braided her long, golden blonde hair. “Thanks for the extra clothes, Mari! These are amazing.”
“Yeah!” Claude agreed enthusiastically, holding out his with a grin. “This shirt is awesome!”
Marinette glanced down to hide her blush. “I-It’s the least I could do.”
“We still appreciate it.” Allan replied.
“Oh!” Marinette said, suddenly thinking about the fact that Allan was still covered in flour. “Allan, do you want to use Maman’s shower? You don’t have to stand around waiting for Felix.”
That who she assumed was occupying the shower, anyway. The water was still running, and everyone but Felix was present.
Allan waved a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be getting a shower soon if Felix would hurry up.”
Marinette chuckled at Allan’s obvious call to Felix, even more so when Felix shouted back from the bathroom, “You’re the one that let me go first!”
“I didn’t know you would take a day and a half!”
“That’s still your fault then, isn’t it?” Felix shot back.
Allan scoffed and crossed his arms, causing Marinette to offer her parent’s shower again out of guilt. She had been the one to throw flour on him, after all.
“Are you sure you don’t want to-”
The bathroom door swung open, effectively cutting Marinette off, and Felix stepped out with one hand on his hip and the other hand on the towel that was draped across his head. He shot Allan a glare, practically growling the words, “There. I’m out. Are you happy?”
“Delighted.” Allan responded sarcastically.
Marinette might have been concerned about the growing conflict had she not been focused on Felix’s outfit. Or rather, how well it suited him. The black, three-quarter-sleeved shirt that she’d given him, along with the plaid green, button-up shirt she’d provided to go underneath, clung to his waist, revealing his surprisingly slender figure. The dark grey jeans he wore in place of his dress pants didn’t fit the outfit exactly, but they worked well enough, and Marinette eagerly started taking mental notes for future adjustments.
Allan grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom, while Felix glared daggers at him until the bathroom door closed.
“Woah~” Allegra crowed, easily breaking the tension. “You should wear casual outfits more often, Felix. They really suit you.”
Claude smirked. “No kidding. I swear you’ve worn the same suit for the whole two years we’ve known.”
Felix turned his glare to Claude with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worn plenty of suits, each one made differently.”
Allegra snorted. “That wasn’t.. That was not the point, Felix.”
Felix narrowed his eyes, the barest hint of confusion finding its way to his features, and Marinette took that opportunity to speak up.
“How’s the outfit? Does it fit alright?” She asked. Hopefully she can find the original measurements for the outfit if it does fit fine, because Felix was most likely going to become a regular customer. Maybe he wouldn’t hire her for actual commissions, but she might end up making something for him on impulse. (as you do)
Felix caught her eye, his glare slowly fading as he registered her question.
“The fabric is extremely comfortable, and the clothes fit perfectly.” He said after a moment. “You said you made these?”
She nodded. “With my sewing machine. I was thinking of putting a green paw print on the shirt too, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”
Felix hummed, idly pulling his towel from on top of his head to around his shoulders. “I see. Thank you for lending them to me.”
Marinette blinked, suddenly finding herself captivated by the way his hair fell across his face. Still being damp, various strands stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away. This brought her attention to his face, which, for some reason, she hadn’t quite noticed before. The defined jawline, the subtle-yet-there cheek bones, the pointed nose- all of his features were sharp. Even his eyes held a silver tint to them that reminded her of steel.
These observations dragged her to one, rather important revelation: Felix Culpa was actually a fairly handsome person.
“Marinette?” Felix said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you alright?”
A rush of heat swarmed her cheeks, and Marinette straightened. “W-what? I mean yes! Yeah, I’m totally fine, I.. yes.”
“Hey, speaking of clothes!” Claude piped up, graciously saving Marinette from her own awkwardness. “How’s my prince costume going?”
Marinette twirled around in her rolling chair and grabbed for her sketching notebook. A distraction was definitely something she needed right now.
“I’ve got a few different ideas, but you need to come tell which one you like best.” She explained as she flipped open the notebook.
Claude hopped up from the stray chest he’d been sitting on and practically bounced over to her seat. She let him scan each page, smiling when he started humming “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s”.
“I can only pick one?! But they’re all so good!” Claude remarked, almost exasperated.
Marinette chuckled. “Well.. I guess I can make all of them for you, but you at least need to choose which one I start on.”
Claude gasped. “You mean you’re going to make all of these for me?”
“It’s going to take a month or so to get them all done.” She warned. “But-”
Claude scooped her into a bone-crushing hug, briefly reminding her of her father. “Thank you, Mari! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”
Marinette laughed and gave him a light pat on the arm. “You’re welcome.”
Her smile widened as Claude eagerly grabbed the notebook and ran back to his designated chest to look through the drawing again. It was nice to see someone who was also enthusiastic about fashion. She’d gotten tired of talking to people who simply didn’t understand the hype of creating unique styles of clothing.
“You know he’s never going to leave you alone now, right?” Felix commented next to her.
Marinette offered him a glance as she said, “I think I can live with that.”
Felix shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She smiled at that. Felix may be striking, but that didn’t have to change anything. Lots of people were striking. And lots of people remained friends despite that.
“Oh,” Felix muttered, seeming to remember something, “Where do you want me to put my clothes? They’re still in the bathroom because of Allan, but..”
“Uhm.. I think Maman said she was going to wash them.” Marinette answered. “She wanted to try to get them clean before supper for all of you.”
“Ah, supper.” Claude cut in, heaving a jokingly wistful sigh. “I can’t wait for that. If your mom’s croissants can taste that heavenly, then her full meals must be amazing.”
He sunk against the chest for emphasis, not realizing that there was a gap between the chest and the wall. The sudden weight threw the chest off balance, and it tipped forward, causing Claude to get jerked backwards. He flailed his arms briefly and yelped before crashing to the floor. The front of the chest hit the ground as well, and the impact popped it open, scattering various objects across the floor.
“Are you okay?”
The girls rushed to his side to help him up, but Felix shot him a flat look.
“First the kitchen and now her bedroom.” He said curtly. “Should we tear up the living room next? Or perhaps the dining room has more fragile items?”
Allegra rolled her eyes. “Felix, can you at least try to be sympathetic.”
“I am being sympathetic. Marinette doesn’t have the money to replace things at the drop of a hat like we do. It’s rude to behave so recklessly in her home.”
Marinette glanced up at Felix, not sure whether to find his words sweet or offensive. “Trust me, it’s fine. This chest is old anyway.”
Felix’s frown told her that he didn’t agree on the matter, but before he could argue further, the bathroom door swung open again.
“What happened?” Allan asked, his hair still dripping wet. “I heard the crash. Is anyone hurt?”
“Only my pride.” Claude groaned in response. He was sitting up now and rubbing his head as Allegra switched between scolding and coddling.
Allan sighed with relief. “Oh, good. You can’t hurt something that’s not there.”
Marinette giggled at the comment. “Allan, how is your outfit? Do I need to make any adjustments?”
Allan glanced down at his clothes. She’d given him a maroon shirt with a blue heartbeat line in the center, a black and blue shirt to go underneath, and a pair of black jeans. He didn’t appear to be wearing the second shirt, though.
“Oh, they fit great.” He said, twisted his torso a bit to get a better feel for the new clothes. “I didn’t have time to put on the second shirt, though. I heard the crash and panicked.”
Marinette offered him a smile. “That’s fine. I can just put it back in the closet.”
Allan nodded and looked down at the mess. “So Claude spilled this chest?”
“Yeah, he was being an idiot.” Allegra remarked as she picked up one of the trinkets. “You know. Nothing new.”
“Wow. can you guys lay off for two seconds?” Claude huffed. He reached forward to pick up one of the objects as well, curiosity overtaking his annoyance. “What is all of this stuff, anyway?”
Marinette glanced at the miscellaneous objects to check- she had several trunks that acted as ‘junk drawers’ -and immediately cringed when she recognized a black hat with rainbow colors stitched along the bottom.
“Oh..” It was Adrien’s gift chest. She’d almost forgotten that she had it. “They’re, um.. They’re just crafts, really.”
“Just crafts?” Claude repeated, holding up a crocheted Ladybug doll. “These are awesome!”
Marinette watched them for a moment. “...do you want them?”
The group looked up in shock, and Marinette quickly added, “Y-You don’t have to take them! I’ve just.. Uh.. they’re like junk? I mean, not junk, but this is my junk chest.. Sort of. I’ve just been meaning to get rid of them. So if you want them, you can have them.”
Allegra frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like you put a lot of effort into these.”
Marinette nodded. “Positive. Take whatever you want.”
Although hesitant at first, the group continued to look through the gifts, and little by little, they started to take some. A smile came to Marinette’s lips as she watched the pile of Adrien junk dwindle. She had spent a lot of time on making the presents, but there was no way she’d be giving them to Adrien now. So what was the point of keeping them in her room? To serve as a mocking reminder of how blind she had been while loving him? No thanks.
By the time they were done, the chest only had half the gifts it used to, and Marinette quickly decided that she would donate the leftovers once she got the chance.
“Thanks for the stuff, Mari!” Claude said cheerfully, his hands full of various objects.
Allegra nodded, holding a few things herself. “Yeah, you really do spoil us.”
“Which is saying something, considering we’re rich.” Allan teased, pocketing the two items that he’d decided to snatch.
Marinette chuckled. “You’re helping me more than I am you.”
She stood up and walked to the bathroom to grab the boys’ old clothes. “I’m gonna bring these down to Maman, but feel free to look around until I get back.”
The group voiced their agreements, and Marinette climbed down the trapdoor ladder with the pile of clothes in hand, feeling like another weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.
Getting rid of Adrien’s gifts was one more step towards happiness, and she couldn’t wait to keep walking.
One can tell a lot about a person by their bedroom. How clean they were, whether they were sentimental, which things they found important- a bedroom could quite literally be considered a box in which someone stored their entire personality. That’s why Felix had been anticipating this part of the visit. Someone can be a master manipulator, but their room would always show their true selves. And it only took one look for Felix to know..
Marinette really loved the color pink.
Seriously, she had it everywhere. The walls, the furniture, the carpet- How was she not sick of the color by now? Felix was sick of it, and he’d only been there for about twenty minutes!
Pushing the pink thought aside, he continued poking around her room. Marinette had gone downstairs to pass his clothes off to her mother, so that gave him a bit of time to inspect the space unsupervised. Not that he was planning on doing anything scandalous. It merely gave him the opportunity of observing Marinette’s room on his own terms.
When she told him that her room was up in the attic, he’d been understandably shocked. The attic didn’t sound like a spacious place to sleep, let alone work on homework and other personal things. Seeing it now, though, Felix realized that that wasn’t the case. The attic was actually quite open. There was a desk, a closet, various chests, a bathroom, and she still had a good portion of the room empty. He wondered if that was thanks to the original size of the room or thanks to Marinette’s resourcefulness.
Her cleaning style wasn’t too bad, either. Don’t get him wrong, there were things scattered everywhere, but it was a specific type of scattered, like an organized chaos. He had a feeling that she knew where most of her necessities were.
Felix moved to her desk, where most of the mess was focused. There were papers, sewing needles, scraps of fabric, and pencils spread across the surface. Her interest in fashion certainly shined through, as most of the papers were filled with various sketches and measurements. He found that admirable. When someone usually speaks of their ‘dream job’, they speak of it as a fantasy, one that they never intend to fully pursue, but Marinette was obviously reaching as high as she could to grasp her goal. She even had a mannequin in her room.
“Marinette’s room is so cool!” Claude exclaimed from the loft up top. “She even has a balcony!”
Felix glanced upwards, briefly setting the papers he’d been studying aside. There’s a balcony upstairs? He didn’t recall seeing a balcony on the way in.
“Claude, you have a balcony.” Allegra reminded him with an amused smile.
“Yeah, but mine only extends from the side of the building.” Claude defended. “This one’s on the roof!”
Ah, so that’s why Felix hadn’t seen it.
Allan frowned. “Really? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”
“It’s got a rail.”
“Oh, okay. That’s fine then.”
Allegra chuckled as she brushed her hands against the hat on Marinette’s mannequin. “Marinette’s room is pretty neat, though.”
“I think it’s just Marinette who’s cool.” Allan remarked.
Allegra and Claude heartily agreed, and Felix nodded. “Cool” probably wouldn’t be the exact word that he’d use to describe her, but overall, it wasn’t far off.
“Can you believe we’ve only known her for a week?” Claude asked as he climbed down to their level. “It feels like we’ve known her forever already.”
“Yeah, but I think that’s just how she is.” Allegra smiled. “She draws you in and makes you feel like family.”
“Her parents are the same way.” Allan said. “You can really tell where she gets it from.”
“Where who gets what from?”
Felix, along with the rest of the group, turned to the trapdoor, where Marinette was standing about halfway through. She didn’t have the clothes anymore, but she did have a tray of drinks.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Allegra said dismissively. “What are those?”
Marinette set the tray on the ground long enough to climb through and close the trapdoor as she explained, “Maman and Papa thought you guys might be thirsty, so she sent me up with a bunch of different drinks to choose from.”
“Sweet!” Claude grinned, swiftly walking over in case she needed help. “Do you have Dr. Pepper?”
Marinette smiled and turned the tray to reveal a deep red can of soda. “Yep! I know it’s your favorite.”
“You truly are a blessing.” Claude replied, grabbing the soda off of the tray.
Marinette giggled and brought the tray forward for the rest of them to pick. Allegra chose a pepsi, while Allan snagged a coke, and Felix grabbed the slim cup of coffee that sat to the side.
He took a sip of it, enjoying the warmth of the bitter liquid. It didn’t escape his notice that Marinette had brought up all of their preferred drinks. She even got his coffee right (Black with three sugars).
Despite how scatter-brained she could be, Marinette still paid attention to details, which was impressive. Felix didn’t know anyone else who could space out during an entire conversation, yet remember the exact type of drink everyone ordered during lunch.
“So what do you guys want to do now? We still have about half an hour before supper is finished.” Marinette asked, setting the tray aside.
Allan shrugged. “What do you have?”
Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, we have board games, card games, Mecha Strike 3-”
“Mecha Strike 3?” Claude perked up. “Yes, please!”
Marinette laughed. “Is everyone else okay with that?”
“Sounds great.” Allan smiled.
Allegra shrugged. “I’m fine with it.”
Felix, being satisfied with his inspection for now, sat down on the chaise. “I’ll watch.”
The rest of the group huddled around Marinette’s computer while she turned it on, and after a bit of debating, they decided on ‘winner faces next player’ and started with Allan and Claude. Felix watched the first two games, just long enough to see Marinette cream Allan, before reverting back to his studious ways. He scanned the bedroom again, hoping to catch something new, when his gaze landed on the trunk that Claude had tipped over earlier. With everyone bustling around it, Felix hadn’t gotten a chance to sift through it, but now that they were occupied with Marinette’s game..
Felix shifted in his seat and re-opened the chest. It was only half full, as opposed to its previously overflowing contents, but that didn’t bother him. There were still plenty of things inside, such as shirts, figurines, hats, and other things. He pulled out a jacket and turned it in his hands, admiring the handiwork. The hood, along with the cuffs of the sleeves and zipper were pitch black, but the rest of the jacket was a deep red, save for the black spots that littered it. “Miraculous” was written on the back in cursive as well. Was this supposed to be based off of the Parisian superhero Ladybug? Why would she want to get rid of this? At the very least, she could make a profit by selling it.
What did she use to make this? The material is so soft.. Felix thought as he unzipped the jacket. It was completely black on the inside, save for some tiny, golden lettering near the section wear the pocket would be.
Felix frowned. How strange. Why would Marinette be giving away things that she made specifically for someone else? He dug through the chest some more, this time looking for names, and what he found was shocking.
Almost every gift had the name ‘Adrien’ on it somewhere, whether it be a card or stitching or marker. Some gifts didn’t have a name, but at that point, Felix felt it was safe to assume that everything in the chest was supposed to be for this ‘Adrien’ person.
That begged the question, though: Who was Adrien? And why would she create so many gifts for him just to give them away?
A small card stitched on the ear of a stuffed cat gave him his answer.
Happy 19th birthday! It’s officially been five years since we’ve known each other. Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I just wanted to say happy birthday (even though I’ve already said it) and that I’m really happy we got to meet. Enjoy the cat!
With all my love, Marinette”
Felix glanced up at Marinette, who was blissfully ignorant of his findings as she defeated Claude for the second time at Mecha Strike 3. Did she intend to use all of these as birthday presents? How many gifts were in there? Did she expect this person to have the same interests twenty years from now? He couldn’t decide if this level of planning was due to over-thinking or just plain obsession. Maybe both.
Felix flinched at the sudden call of his name, weirdly feeling as if he’d been caught in the act of some crime. He looked up to see Claude waving a controller at him.
“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” The brunette asked.
“Talk to me when you have chess.” Felix replied shortly, going back to the chest. He had hoped that seeing Marinette’s room would provide more answers to her life, but it only issued more questions. Did she have this amount of gifts for all of her friends or was Adrien special? If he was special, what way would it be? Was he possibly an ex-lover? She dated him for a while, and they had a recent falling out, which was why she was getting rid of the gifts. That would make sense.
“He just wants to talk.”
Her words from last week resurfaced in his mind. The person who chased her that day was the only one she reacted bitterly towards. Was Adrien trying to get back together with her?
Was he the reason she left her old school in the first place?
My, my Dupain-Cheng. Felix thought. Aren’t you just full of secrets?
Tag List: @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce
Only Time Makes It Human 3
Part 1 | Part 2
A/N: hi and sorry for the long wait, I had to squish my brain real hard to get this chapter out, but I hope you like it, I decided a chapter about growth wasn't enough and y'all gave me an idea for angst so I just splashed it there and we'll delve into it more on the next chapter. 10/10 the idea works well enough for me to bring Levi and reader together even more. So don't call me out on being random. This is raw, un fucking edited, I'll edit later 💗
Pairing: Levi/ Reader
Tags: modern au, college au
Warnings: mentions of blood
Special kudos if you figure out why I used this gif ;)
The problem with your feet being numb in the morning when you woke up wasn't supposed to phase you as much as it currently did, but the weathering cold that had barged its way to your room silently begged to have you feel something other than the everlasting whirlpool of regret.
Which was -unsurpisingly- something you had been spiraling into a lot lately.
Your ringtone -or rather the caller that had caused it to go off- nontheless remained mercilessly unforgiving to your current condition. The brute vibrations that accompanied your once favorite song ripped through the air and bounced on every wall inside your room before it wooshed inside your eardrums.
You fucking finally had to change that ringtone, you thought.
Your feet, moist and heavy as they buzzed with the aftermath of the coma-like sleep you had just gone through, struggled to wiggle from underneath the comfort of your blankets. Your hands instinctively rubbed the underside of your nose as you sniffled all the cold of the room around you. Throwing the blanket off of you, you groaned at the non stop ringing of your phone.
The few steps to your desk felt like an eternity of having to walk with a badgy weight on your feet, but the faint feeling in your body didnt come to an halt even after you picked the device in your hands. Your eyes couldn’t really adjust well to make out the ID of the caller, of course, sleep hadn't rubbed off your eye lids yet, but still you slid the emerald button to acceptance with no resistance.
“Hey” you sleepingly moaned.
“Hellooo! (Y/n)!” Hange called enthusiastically for the other line, her joyous voice piercing your eardrums “Where are you booo?”
“I just woke up why?” you yanwed.
Pacing your eyes around your room you noticed the dull daylight creeping in through your blinds, signaling the gloom of another potentially snowy day for Trost. You blinked as you took notice of the few articles of soon to reside in the laundry bin clothing as well as the dress that hung from your closet door.
And then, it all snapped.
Anxiety rushed through you like a bullet to the gut, gushing numbness and waves of cold sweat from the point of impact. Forcefully, you ripped your phone off your ear and double tapped at screen to make it light up. The date read December 25, and below it, laid numerous notifications of your alarm and even a pop up reminder from last night to not forget the food you had to take with you.
Thinking back to that, your head started spinning like crazy, the familiar, yet bizarre feeling of your stomach dropping overtaking you. You hadn't cooked, rather, you had spent all night drinking and sulking on your own, cursing yourself for all your choices up to date.
"Yes, oh shit!” Hnge laughed “Oh! You forgot?”
"Hangeeee stop screaming oh my god no I didn't forget, I'm on my way okay?"
A little yelp came out of your mouth as the cable of your charger prevented you from taking another step closer to your bedroom door; letting out a curse under your breath though you quickly unplugged your phone, and rushed over the mess of your room and out to your living room.
"But you said you just woke up."
"Ahhh," you scratched your head, feeling your loose t-shirt sliding down your shoulder "no!" You said, then in a sterner voice you repeated "No! I uhm, I was just-"
Your poor excuse to communicate after having just woken up didn't startled Hange. If anything, she seemed to find it amusing because she burst into joyous, bubbling laughter at the sound of your despair. And you couldn't blame her for it; were you under any other circumstance you would be laughing with yourself as well.
"It's fine. Erwin and I are making a cake for shorty so if you want to cook here you have plenty of time yet. I'm going to say it though, we could really use your pastry skill."
You let out a sigh as you took your phone off your ear and pressed on the speaker icon. Your hands worked fast to grip onto the hem of your shirt and then, even faster, they managed to pull it off of you in shift movements.
"I'm just going to have a shower, dress up and I'll be on my way. It shouldn't take more than 30 minutes."
Hange exhaled in utter relief through the phone and you could practically feel her sheepish smile as Erwin shouted a big fat 'thank you' from the depths of his kitchen. Bringing out a hand to grap your shower cap -the only shower product you loathed using- you ripped the cap off its place on your cabinet and messily shoved all of your hair in it in rushed movements.
"Got any questions before I hit the shower Hange?"
"Please ask her" Erwin was heard and you cocked your head to the side at the sound.
"No Erwiin, we got it under control okay?"
"No we don't."
Shaking your head to prevent yourself from zoning out, you clicked your tongue before opening your mouth to address your two friends. Asking as to what they were referring to was easy, although it was obvious that Hange felt confident in succeeding in the task Erwin was referring to. Knowing Hange though, you thought you could guess perhaps what exactly was going on.
"Please don't mix food coloring with spinach juice to make the cake green like two years ago."
Erwin's laughter was pretty much evident through the other line as Hange went on blubbering about how she wasn't going to do it again giving extreme emphasis as to why she couldn't understand the reason it tasted bad in the first place but would go with what you said nevertheless. At that point Erwin was laughing hysterically, telling you how Hange was once again, indeed, thinking about it and the sound of his laughter grew even louder than Hange's words.
"Do you have food coloring?"
"Yes Hange I have food coloring."
"Plea-pleaee bring some. Dammit Erwin what's gotten into you- gotta go (y/n) see you in a while."
The beeping sound from the other line left you little to no time to properly reply to your friends with a much wanted greeting, though, you didn't think much of it. You were going to spend the whole day with them, so getting upset over not getting the chance to say goodbye over the phone wasn't something that should have caused guilt to spurt in you.
But surely, this wasn't the only cause of your overly bubbling guilt. The actual cause of the knot in your gut laid to the fact that within the time span of two weeks you had managed to to drag Levi and yourself into a rather steep rabbit hole. There was going to be a serious impact of your relationship with your friends had the two of you made it known to them; everyone would scold you -and they'd be right at that- and maybe this time they'd pick sides as to what wrong or not. And you didn't want that.
Although you secretly wished everyone went with Levi. Or at least you had come to the conclusion that that was what you deserved.
You had been feeling bothered and repulsed by what had caused you to make out with him that night, given the fact that you had been the one that initiated the kiss. And just as much, you had been feeling furious over Levi allowing this to ever happen. But looking back at it now, you couldn't say you regretted getting close to him even in such way. And that was probably the most infuriating thing of all.
Nevertheless, there was also the fact that you would be seeing Levi today and frankly you didn't know what to do with that. Should you act like everything was fine? Should you simply ignore him? Was Petra going to be with him?
Speaking of Petra it would be best if you straight up let her know of what had happened. Acting shady with another woman's man behind her back was outrageous for anyone to do and you hated being in that position like the next person.
Your stomach twisted dangerously at your spiraling thoughts, but you chose to ignore the tight knot, attributing the loud growl you had heard to one caused by your excessive hunger.
Perhaps, your shower was going to help you sort out your thoughts and intentions.
With a twist of your wrist the water started sprinting out of the tap in your shower. Your eyes were fixated on your phone, your thumb roaming through Spotify in hopes to find the perfect song to company your bath with. You simply said good for a Christmas playlist that Spotify suggested, tapping on that, a list of numerous jolly songs popped up in your screen and you simply pressed the big shuffle button before putting your head on your cabinet.
The walk to Erwin's house was very much and as previously expected, quiet. The sidewalks on your way were all covered in sugary white snow, decorating each different apartment complex in the non urban side of Trost along with the standard holiday decorations.
Taking a deep sigh you brought the back of your finger to the metallic button of Erwin's doorbell. Blinking rationally, you looked around at the marble front door frame of his apartment complex, your blood subtly rushing to your feet. You dragged the tip of your combat boot over the snow, curling your toes on the fuzzy material that covered the inside of the shoe.
You were beginning to become impatient as you waited on the doorframe, Erwin was taking way too long to open the door and you were practically freezing out there; the dress you wore did almost nothing to keep you warm. Despite you taking precautions by wearing a cardigan and the leather coat that you had snatched from your brother, the cold still pierced through your sheer black pantyhose, as if your efforts to stay warm were ridiculous.
The sound of footsteps was what startled you next but still your head didn't turn to the source of the buzzing noise. Your nose simply nuzzled to the scarf you had wrapped around yourself as you rubbed your face onto its warm fleece material.
This time you could help but turn around to check who had thrown a greeting at you.
A familiar puff of ginger hair greeted you as you snuck your nose out of the edge of your scarf, two big and round hazel eyes stared right at you as you blinked rapidly back at them.
Great. Just great.
Petra wiggled her nostrils once to the left and then to the right, seemingly scratching the awkwardness in the atmosphere away. She blinked her eyes a few times into yours, her lips pursing together slightly as if she was coming up with a good comeback to your greeting, yet it never came.
"uhm, what's up?"
Your fingers slightly clutched the edges of your coat, crossing over your chest as you felt your jaw start clattering. Your pupils gathered at the corners of your eyes, catching small glimpses of Petra as you eyed her up and down.
She too had opted for a cardigan and a dress. A very safe choice if you were in a place to express your opinion but hers, despite being adorned with numerous tiny and dainty coral and red flowers, looked so thin and tule like and it barely covered her thighs, so much that you felt a pinch of concern run through you that you were slow to decide on whether you wanted to brush off or not.
"I'm.. good." She managed to let out, but you noticed how her lip trembled.
She was definitely shivering, if that wasn't concerning enough you didn't know what was, and she looked so frail and out of place that she could definitely beat you at it. Plus, the lack of a warm jacket struck somewhat of a nerve at you. Even feeling so much guilt over being in her presence you couldn't help but feel your motherly friend instincts wash over you; why wasn't she wearing something warmer? And why were you seconds away from taking off your jacket to offer it to her when you knew she wouldn't even accept it.
"Damn, Erwin's sure taking long, do you want my jacket?"
Once again and mostly out of instinct, your finger tapped over the metallic button, covered by the edge of your sleeve. Suddenly, the familiar buzz of the intercom growled in your eardrum and you shook your head to its direction automatically.
"I'm so sorry!" Erwin said. "Come in!"
"Hey Erwin!" Petra spoke before you had a chance to say your wanted reply.
Even if you couldn't see him, you knew how shocked of an expression he was wearing.
Taking the few steps into the apartment complex's yard, you rushed to the next door and waited for the known buzz which signaled that Erwin had finally let you inside. With awkwardness spread over your face though, you pushed your lips into a thing line, holding the door back as you signaled to Petra that she should be the first to come inside.
"Thank you." She muttered.
You watched as Petra hesitated to push the elevator button; with a set of trembling fingers her palm rested only a few inches before the metallic button that was lit in a red arrow. With another smile you came closer to her and went to check in which floor the elevator was currently at. Whether she flinched intentionally or not, you didn't know.
"Wanna share a lift? It'll be a while till it comes down again." You offered.
"Uhm, yeah okay."
Once she responded, Petra tapped onto the elevator button with her thumb.
Petra looked at you and clung onto the edged of her cardigan once again. You took notice of how she looked a little more casual and unkept, despite being dressed on point; the lack of a jacket and her tousled naturally wavy bob betrayed an unwillingness to be present to today's event and it's was painfully obvious.
"I'd like to" Petra hesitated, "I'd like to talk to you about something."
"Oh sure, what is it about?"
"It's about Levi."
Dead silence fell as Petra didn't dare turn her gaze to your direction. The little screen over the elevator button still showed that your lift was taking long to come down as if it mocked you, but you couldn't find it in you to tap into the button once again.
"Would you like to grab some coffee with me tomorrow?"
To say that you were panicked would be an exaggeration and probably a degradation to Petra's feelings. Her breathing was heavier than your own, frankly because for her it must have been even more uncomfortable than it was for you. You couldn't blame her for that.
Nonetheless you couldn't help but be genuinely curious as to what she had wanted to tell you? It was evident that she knew something. What's slipped you was whether or not she want to bash you for your actions.
She had every right to do so.
"Yeah. Of course, uhh, tomorrow sounds good."
Christmas day wasn't as bad as you had expected it to be when Hange had announced to you that Levi would be coming alone with Petra.
For starters, the food was in plehtora; Erwin had cooked your jolly favorite roasted chicken, Mike and Nanaba had brought an enormous plate of their creamiest, most mouth watering souffle, Levi had made some god tasty pumpkin soup and Hange had taken actually good care of fixing a custom non alcoholic cocktail to each one of you.
All of this drool worthy deliciousness had caused, and non surprisingly at that, your body to submit in that peaceful demi slumber that tagged along with the fullness of your tummy. Frankly, it had been so long since you had enjoyed such a good meal and you didn't think you would be enjoying another one until Mikasa's birthday.
Thus, the cool evening sir that entered the room when Erwin opened the window door to the balcony, found you laying on the floor right next to the tangerine fire that danced in the fireplace. You could faintly feel Nanaba's hand scratch at the roots of your hair, her almond tipped nails slowly running in purringly mellow lines over your sculp that sent you to pure delight.
Levi's eyes danced over your form more than he'd like to admit so. Ever so slightly his pupils would travel up and down your thighs and calfs, examining the material of your sheer back pantyhose but whatever emotion overcame him wasn't the animalistic lust he had expected to feel.
He felt rather guilty. And not only for staring at your legs. For bringing himself upon the situation he was in.
It wasn't easy to think with a throbbing head but in Levi's world this poor condition was translated as a prompt to try to get out of whatever shithole he had found himself in. Maybe. Because there was also a certain part inside of him that bashed him to no end about his previous and degrading actions to both Petra's and his person, which part he completely and rationally justified.
With a quick glance at Petra, Levi brought his hand to his face to hopefully wipe any of the numbness his guilt had got him feeling. Petra seemed to enjoy herself as per usual. With her soft smiles and the mellow sway of her hair over her shoulder, she'd often reach for the hem of her white wooly cardigan to cover her shoulder while cooing into the soft material and onto the side of the couch she was seating in.
It would be hard for anyone to guess that the two of them had broken up.
She was unsurprisingly sitting as far off him as she could; the fact that they hadn't announced to anyone they had broken up because they didn't want the Christmas party at Erwin's to be ruined didn't mean she owned Levi to act like his faithful and bubbly dog.
It happened that night after he had stood her up at the movies.
Levi had gathered all of his determination and had managed to push all thoughts aside from the back of his brain, as he was despairate to ignore that feeling your make out session had brushed on him. He had walked up to Petra, all dissolved and stoic, his chest swelling with anxiety. He had stared at her with an agape mouth, he had been muttering words so honest that he felt were fatally brute and Petra had digested them all without any difficulty.
And before he knew it, he was over and done.
Petra hadn't cried, she hadn't wept, she had only answered him with a smile that she'd rather just be friends with him if things weren't going to work between them.
And to an extended it tortured the ravenette, mostly because he remembered the hurt look in her face before she had managed to hide it with her usual mellow smile.
Taking another sigh, Levi stared at Petra's hand while she played silently with the lettuce hem of her dress. Her hazel orbs were fixed on you, who laid before the fireplace like a stray cat on the tire of car during a snowy day. Levi couldnt exactly place the exact emotion behind Petra's expression, though it would be perceived by most as a saddened one. There were specs of regret gathering at the corners of her eyes, reluctance gathered at her slightly puckered lips and a hint of determination to the front tips of her eyebrows.
Maybe Petra's inner strength was something that Levi deeply admired.
Levi made no effort whatsoever to reach out to her to ask what was going on, not even to show some seemingly convern. The more he looked at Petra, the more it felt utterly wrong for him to simply stand next to her, knowing what he had do behind her back. Whether he loved her or not, it wasn't like him to be caught up in such stupid drama.
Levi looked up to an enthusiastic Hange with much tousled hair and a big grin on her face that spread from one ear to another. With another, more thorough glance, he quickly became aware of the cake in her hands; a cake covered in white frosting, decorated with soft pastel green letters that wrote a simple birthday wish to his person. He couldn't help but let out a sigh.
"For you!" Hange smiled further "Erwiiin, come light up the candles!"
Looking around the room he noticed how all of his friends' gazes were on him. Mike and Nanaba remained cuddled on the couch opposite to the one he was on, Petra was mellowy smiling at his eith her cherry lips pressed into a thin line and you were fiddling with what seating arrangement was most comfortable for you at the moment.
"We're celebrating another year where you went up in age and down in height, how delightful." Mike commented, causing laughter to spark between the small group of people around you.
After the spur of happiness died out your eyes met with Levi's, briefly and then they traveled anywhere else in the room altogether.
"Let's light up the candles!" Smiled Erwin as he flicked the small metallic button of his lighter.
"I don't want too many, shit. The last time you took my lungs out."
"Not our fault that you're old Levi!" You spoke, earning a half smile by the ravenette.
"Very old!" Hange agreed.
"Tch, I'm only turning twenty six shut your shitty mouths!"
The warm light of the fire licked each waxed strip of wick that hung from the candles, illuminating Hange's face in warm orange light. Once done with lighting up the candles, Erwin plopped himself in between Levi and Petra, crossing his hands over his knees as he shifted his bottom in the most uncomfortable seating on a couch you had ever witnessed.
You merely caught a glimpse of Hange kneeling before Levi as you dragged your gaze over to Petra, fixating it on her for the thousandth time this evening.
There only was one thing in your head that bounced between the crevices of your brain like crazy. Just one simple words that held so much behind it.
Tomorrow you were going to apologize to Petra and try to make amends. Being the despicable toxic person you had turned into didn't suit you. Owing up to your mistakes was the first step to redemption and you weren't afraid to take it.
As you fell into a spiral of thoughts and guesses about tomorrow though, you couldn't help but subtly ignore the cheerful sing alone to Levi's birthday song.
"Thank you for coming!"
Petra's hair was messily swaying all over her face, falling a direct victim to the frozen December air, yet she smiled as if nothing was going on.
The park around you was covered in snow. White was primarily the color that was plastered on everything, save for the dry stems of trees that were once covered in forest green leaves.
Your peeping hot coffee did nothing to warm up your hands, despite your best wishes and in the moment you had called victim to some specs of jealousy over Petra's gloved hands as they rubbed soothing over her own coffee.
"Of course, I had been meaning to talk to you as well."
"Oh you did?" Petra spoke with her eyebrows following the little surprise that was masking her tone. "To be honest, I didn't think you'd come."
"Yeah about that-"
"Can I please go first?" Petra cut you off.
Her huge hazel eyes that blinked into yours from your left side left you little to no space to deny her wish. Thus, by taking a sigh, you pushed past the quick beating of your heart and gestured her to go first with a kind smile on your face.
"Okay oof, thanks!" Petra huffed "look. Levi and I broke up. Now I know that you'll say it doesn't concern you, and frankly it'd be ideal if it didn't, but I know it does, because Levi explained to me what happened."
At that Petra slightly paused.
Naturallye first thing that came to your mind was the need to express an apology. Although, you weren't that sure if Petra would perceive the apology as sincere, you felt like you ought to give one to her. Yet her eyes blinked into yours further as she took another turn down the path you were walking on and you wordlessly followed asuit.
"I love Levi you know," she sighed "but Levi loves you. You're not over each other and it's painfully obvious, I mean you did just collided to eachother quite literally, not giving a single care about whether you couldn't have each other or not."
A sheer red colored tint painted your cheeks at her words.
Your skin pricked you, burning up a stingingly painful path to all of the pores on your face as shame took the form of an earth shattering wave. Your heart started heaping beats, hollering into the depths of your chest and you could hear it bounce inside your eardrums as if your whole body was hollow save for the jolting organ and the echo of the sound it made was bouncing around each fleshy wall.
Petra was right and you couldn't help but accept but stand the as she was lightning you with her words.
"It hurts to see that someone that I love doesn't love me back but it hurts more to see that you two are very miserable without eachother. I really thought you were a bitch you know."
At the sound of that, you let out a startled laugh.
"Yeah, you just gave us looks when we'd shoe up together somewhere or you'd simply leave, but I don't like turning my back on people and judging them like that. I'm in no place to judge anyone a coping mechanism."
Petra sighed. Her fingers curled strongly onto her cup, while her left palm went to support the cup by the bottom as she angled it on her lips. She made a tiny gulping noise as she drank a sip from her latte, her nose crinkling up as the hot beverage brushed over her sensitive tongue. In turn, you sipped similarly, mimicking Petra just hoping it would serve as a sign for her to go on with her speech.
"I might be hurt, but I vouch to help you and Levi resolve what's going on and get back together."
"Petra I, I don't know what to say you- you're a literal angel." You admit and the guilt in your stomach only growled in its awakening.
You and Levi had hurt a wonderful person. Petra didn't need to be nice to you, she didn't need to offer to help you with anything but once you made yourself step inside her shoes you were able to see why she had perceived you the way that she initially had.
Your voice was silent and stripped of any emotion other than shame yet Petra was beaming at you in response.
Her warm smile was elegant and comforting as she stared at you, taking another gulp of her drink with a soft giggle. Your eyes were locked with hers, saddened (e/c) irises staring into her hazel ones, as she smiled even more little by little.
It was strange.
There was a different kind of bubbling inside your chest and you knew because your heart wasn't hammering anymore, not was your stomach trying to be ripped apart in tiny pieces after it vored into your other intestines. You felt serene, at peace even.
It clicked to you that this is what must feel to be forgiven.
"It's fine, plus you guys kinda deserve each other." Petra laughed at your chocked inhale, pressing a comforting, gloved palm to your shoulder. "I'd rather find my happiness when I'm not in between two people that struggle to find theirs."
Petra nuzzled to the comfort of her jacket, giving you a scrunched up bunny smile. You knew it's not that she hoped you could be best friends after this. She simply wanted to make sure that she could do her best to help two people find happiness. And it wasn't all that bad, you figured. You didn't know what you would do were you in her place.
In a way, you admired Petra for being so strong.
"Besides, girls shouldn't bring down other girls."
"Yeah, and I'm sorry about what I did behind your back. I own up to my mistake. I can't take it back but I can promise that I won't become this toxic ever again."
You shot an apologetic side smile at her as you followed her tracks.
Taking a new look in your surroundings, you deeply inhaled the cold air, filling your lungs in shivering winter freshness. A few specs of snow were adorning Petra's hair as the fell from the sky in a dainty manner, licking the stray threads that popped from her wooly gloves.
There definitely was a commotion a few blocks away. You could hear sirens go off not so far from your spot but you chose to ignore them, it was typical for a city person to filter out unnecessary noise, and having to live in Trost added tons to what you had to filter or not.
"It's December twenty six and the two is back to being a Mayhem." Petra sighed.
"It's like we're Gotham or some shit."
"Gotham?" Petra blinked at you, earning a gasp from you.
"Step one to being the friend of someone who's majoring in comics-"
"Oh, friends yay!"
Shaking your head, to ignore the child like enthusiasm, you continued, "Please know the most well known fictional city, it's Batman's city too."
"OH!" Petra's mouth fell agape as she took in the information, but she quickly giggled again as she saw that you easily took a gulp of your beverage "you're right."
For what seemed like a second you felt at peace once again. Petra bubbled about how she wanted to apologise to Levi about her rather cold behavior last night, and explained in the most non detailed way how it was the memory of the passing of her mother that had caused her to become this grumpy.
"Don't worry Petra! But beware, you could be turning into Levi version two point oh and-"
A loud sound startled you, sending both you and Petra back a few steps. Dumbfounded, you stared at each other and around you, locking eyes with different by passers that were just as shocked as you.
"Maybe we should go back!" Petra suggested. You simply nodded, hearing a good amount of running footsteps coming to the direction of the block you were in. In any way, getting caught up with a manhunt wasn't in your plans for today
"Yeah maybe we shou-"
Your words were cut off absurdly, harshly and shockingly all together. As gunmetal orbs locked with yours, your eyelids shot open, hour mouth dropping to the snow covered concrete.
Wait, Levi? That was actually so random
Before you could manage to process what was going on around you, or why on earth Levi had just popped up from the alley right across you another head splitting sound filled the air.
Levi -yes, this was indeed Levi, you just didn't really know how to process this- collapsed on his knees like a rag doll, his torso and head giving in to the exhaustion of his body. Once he fell, you stood frozen, shieldimg Petra with one hand as the two of you watched in horror while crimson started littering the sugary snow.
"Call an ambulance." You spoke dryly, eyes still wide with horror.
The people who had seemed to be after Levi quickly fell onto the hands of the hands of a handful of police men who were on their tracks, but you couldn't care to look at their faces. You just run towards Levi, always followed by a petrified Petra, your feet giving in as you kneeled right next to him, your fingers gingery ghosting over him just to inspect what was his condition.
You listened as Petra spoke with the emergency center in horror, explaining what was the scene before her eyes while struggling to keep herself from trembling.
"What's going on?" Shy muttered once she detached the phone off her ear.
"I'm pretty sure now is not the right time for a story, but Levi used to be in a street gang in his teens."
Oh boy indeed.
Here's your gentle reminder that constructive criticism makes me cry because I'm a baby
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