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montrealmadison · 3 years

Note

if you want my opinion you should def post the au thing you wrote about bitty and jack switching roles with the overdose! ill read it at least ☺️

ask and you shall receive!!! <3

Eric Bittle registers the fact that he is in love with Jack Zimmermann with one hand on the door to his Uber and the other dragging a suitcase that’s definitely going to be too heavy for the plane.

Well, shit.

This has got to score a perfect ten on the universe’s Terrible Timing Scale.

Later he’ll look back on this moment and wonder how, notorious overthinker that he is, he manages to make this particular decision so quickly. For now, though, he doesn’t really stop to think at all. He just straightens and says, in a dreamlike voice that doesn’t quite belong to him, “I’ll be right back.”

His Uber driver says something that could either be What? or maybe What the fuck?, but Bitty is already running.

He crosses campus in record time, bursts through the front doors of Faber—wow, it is stupidly beautiful in here in the afternoons—and then darts through the door that leads to the players’ facilities.

Please, he thinks, don’t be gone, don’t be gone. He can’t have left.

Not yet.

Thankfully, he turns the corner and there they are: Jack, his parents, and Georgia Martin, listening with fond interest as Jack points out specifics along the hallway. They turn to look at the intruder in their midst, because of course they do, and Bitty’s face reddens when he realizes how he must look: out of breath, sweaty and wild-eyed and leaning a little dramatically against the nearest cinderblock wall to let it cool his skin.

But Bitty's mama and daddy raised an anxious son, not a totally incapable one. “Jack,” he says, and closes the distance between them step by hesitant step. “I am so sorry to interrupt, y’all. Jack, can I just—borrow you for a real hot second?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just turns with Jack’s wrist in his grasp and power walks towards the nearest door. Jack, thankfully, follows him, shooting a look over his shoulder at George and his parents that Bitty has neither the time nor the mental capacity to decipher. He’s got more important shit to do, thank you very much.

The door that they disappear through turns out to be the back entrance to the men’s locker room. The scent of metal and sweat and laundry detergent always lingers faintly here, even though the season’s been over for what feels like ages. It’s grounding. In this room Bitty has come to learn what his job is, where he belongs, what his relationship with Jack is.

(Or what it was, anyway. From here on out they’re in uncharted waters. Bitty just has to hope he’s read the signs right.)

“Bittle?” Jack’s hands close over his upper arms as soon as the door swings shut behind them. The contact is bracing, though, and not unwelcome. “Are you alright?”

Bitty has to look up and up and up to find his face. Jack’s eyes are so blue and his hands are so strong and all of Bitty’s half-formed thoughts are failing him when he needs them most.

Jack definitely looks a little worried now. “Bits,” he says. “Bittle, hey.”

Bitty opens his mouth and what comes out is not the sappy speech he’s (maybe) been secretly practicing in the shower for months, just in case this exact moment came along. Instead, what comes out is: “You bought me an oven.”

The worry slides right off Jack’s face and is quickly replaced with a tentative half-smile. It’s almost like he knows exactly what this is all about, the smug, beautiful bastard. “Well, the boys helped—”

“Jack. Hush.” Bitty thumps his palms lightly on Jack’s chest and hopes he doesn’t notice how much they’re shaking. “You bought me an oven.”

Jack opens his mouth, closes it again, and then nods, smiling wider now. “I did.”

And Bitty is so in love with this ridiculous boy in that instant that he decides, well, fuck it, stretches up as far as he can, and kisses Jack Zimmermann once and for all.

Almost as soon as he does it, he feels himself start to freeze—give a man some warning, Bittle!—but Jack doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Quite the opposite, actually; he makes a hungry sort of noise into Bitty’s mouth, exhales sharply, and wraps Bitty up in his arms, almost lifting him off the floor.

And holy shit, it’s so good. Better than good. Kissing Jack is everything he’s ever wanted and everything he’s never given himself permission to want until this very minute. If Bitty wasn’t completely gone on him ten seconds ago, he sure is now.

They pull apart for air eventually, but neither of them go far; Jack rests his forehead against Bitty’s, reaches up to cup the back of Bitty’s neck with one big hand. His cheeks are pink, his eyes blown wide. His hair’s a mess where Bitty’s raked his hands through it. He’s smiling.

Bitty, a little breathless, can’t help but smile back. “Sorry to sneak up on you, honey.”

“I don’t care,” Jack says immediately, and then: “Will you—”, at the same time as Bitty starts, “Can we—”

“Do that again?” they ask together, and laugh.

“Please,” says Jack, and Bitty hardly needs prompting.

“Bits,” Jack says, a little later. “What now?”

His eyes flick back towards the door, and Bitty’s reminded of what awaits him on the other side of it: Montréal, then Providence. The life he’s always wanted.

Bitty’s never been able to be selfish a day in his life—but just today, just this once, he wants to have a place in Jack’s life, too.

“Well,” he says slowly. “You’re off to big things, mister. I don’t wanna distract you.”

Jack glances at the door again, and then slowly and deliberately kisses Bitty’s forehead. “If you want this,” he says, “like I want this, then you’re not gonna be a distraction, Bits.” He kisses him again. “We’ll work it out.”

And that’s kind of enough to soothe the lingering knot of terror under Bitty’s ribs. For now, at least.

He glances at the notification that’s just popped up on his phone—wait-time charges have begun—and then looks back up at Jack, at the journey that’s ending and the one that’s just beginning.

“I’ll text you,” he says.

And when he gets into the Uber at last, he does.

#THANK YOU THANK YOU for inspiring this it was ABSOLUTELY so much fun #<3 <3 <3 #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #omgcp #my writing

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narrators-journal · 3 years

Text

The final step

This is it boys! The final part! After this, I have no other fic to post, so I’ll probably return to original work or silence lol. But! I’ll try to post what I can to feed ya’ll content!

cw: descriptions of murder, Hint o’ Hisoka, reader’s pregnant

Previous part: here

First part: here

Illumi spent a while helping you pack before the butlers he'd requested showed up, than he returned to his home across the street to pack up as well. After all, with you now on the track to marry him, he would no longer need the home. Though, maybe we could keep it, and use it as something of a vacation spot to escape mother's unrelenting nagging. He mused.

While he was shoving his clothes into his bag and mulling over that option, he spoke to said mother, or, more-so half listened to Kikyo squeal and giggle in pure delight at the news of your pregnancy. "Mother, please refrain from shrieking in my ear," he said when his excitable mother had to stop for breath, "I'm sorry dear, but this is such good news! Your father and I were hoping this woman would prove to be a good wife, and while I will say it's a little soon for a baby, this is good news nonetheless!" She squealed, making the assassin huff, "I know, I should've waited until after I'd married her to consummate," Kikyo about blew a raspberry at his words, making him blink, "Illumi, we don't care if you decide to have sex before you get married. My only concern is that this woman isn't the right one for you." she said, "Your father would prefer that you choose a woman a bit more suited for our line of work, but if she's really as submissive as you described, I'm sure she'll be a fine addition to the family. Oh! And I'm sure your child will be absolutely adorable! I can't wait to put little booties on them, and absolutely dote on them like you no longer let me do-" "Mother," Illumi said, though his mother knew despite his monotone voice that he was annoyed. "Well, you don't." she sniffed before changing the subject. "Anyway, when are you bringing her home? I want to meet her already!" she said, going into a bit of a rant over his failure to even show Kikyo a picture of you, but her son was no longer listening. Instead, Illumi's attention was turned to his surroundings, his senses on high alert from the waves of malicious intent he felt so suddenly from the direction of your home. "Mother, was Hisoka released?" Illumi asked, his mother's voice dying at the palpable tension coming through the phone, "I believe so? Your grandfather was apparently sick of the creep, so he had him thrown out." she offered a second before Illumi hung up. In a flash, the assassin was across the street at your home, his needles at the ready. As soon as he set foot in the house, the assassin was greeted with the familiar scent of blood hanging in the air like a heavy blanket and a silence that ate at his nerves. Your home was quiet. too quiet. It about drove the assassin insane with the possible reasons behind the lack of life. Of course, the butlers that were tasked with helping you pack your clothes were dead, so that helped to explain the stifling quiet, but the sight of the help mercilessly slaughtered didn't justify the way Illumi's heart raced and a strange feeling gripped at his throat until he felt he couldn't breathe. The only time that feeling seemed to finally leave, only to be replaced with wrath, was when the casually dressed assassin slipped into your bathroom, his needles poised to be thrown, and he was met with the one person he didn't want to see inside of your home. "Hisoka." he hissed, his dark eyes narrowing and his aura reflecting the heated rage that boiled his blood at the sight of the brightly colored magician, who turned to look at him lazily, frowning as if the soulless man was as equally unwanted as the pink haired man was, "Before you maul me and get no answers, I didn't hurt your precious (y/n)." He assured, plucking one of his signature playing cards and licking the blood of a butler from it before continuing "I believe she crawled out of the bathroom window. So, I suggest you go get her back before you focus on me. Don't want her to get too far away now, do we?" The magician pouted, knowing damned well Illumi wouldn't bother with him after that news, which meant Illumi wouldn't be fighting him, yet. The assassin did, in fact, leave the magician at your house, going out instead to find you. If the help wasn't so fucking incompetent this would be a lot easier. He thought as he forced his wrathful aura into zetsu while he coldly rushed by the corpses and returned outside to prowl down the chilly streets of town, turning that edgy, strangling, anxiety feeling in his throat into energy to fuel his possessive hunt for his wife, his property. On the bright side of the situation though, you were nothing compared to the dark-haired predator, so he had that to cool his unhinged emotions before running into you. You were a recluse, you likely didn't know your way around town that well, so your trail was pretty obvious. In times of life threatening danger, people, more-so women, usually went to crowded areas after all, and you didn't know of many places that would offer help, so you were likely going to head to your grocery store. Knowing that, Illumi was able to get ahead of you, scooping you up before you could slow from a mad dash fuelled by mortal terror to a speed at which you could avoid slamming into the hunter's chest. "(y/n)," he growled, shaking you once, firmly, to put a stop to your flailing and squirming, "I am this close to jamming one of my needles into your brain. STOP IT." He ordered, the force of slightly panicked rage in his words making you freeze and stare up in terror at him with your wide (e/c) eyes. For a few seconds you stared at one another, your form squished to his in an inescapable grip while his soulless eyes glared down at you until you finally burst into tears. "Please! Just let me go!" You plead, your voice quivering with barely restrained sobs, so he took a deep breath and ran his thumb down your already tear-stained cheek, "Why would I do that? I'm only trying to keep you and our baby safe." he reminded you, but you shook your head vigorously, making bits of your (h/l), (h/c) hair stick to your face, "You're scaring me! Please let me go, I'm begging you Illumi." you cried, trying to shake his comforting hug off, "I thought you loved me," he said, not releasing you even when your upset tantrum stuttered to a stop. For a moment, you seemed conflicted, but than closed your eyes and tried to kick him to no avail, "I...I don't know anymore. You've...become so scary recently, I have to p-put my own well being ahead of any shallow attraction." you sniffled, digging your nails into his t-shirt. He brushed a strand of hair from your (s/c) face as you shook against him "(y/n), I would never do anything to harm you or our baby unless you force me to. Just behave and act like you did before figuring out you were pregnant, everything will be okay." he assured, making his voice as comforting, soft, and loving as he could manage to try and sooth you. Thankfully, he could see the fear and rebellion in your (e/c) eyes dim, returning to their usual, gorgeously submissive state. After that, you only gave one final attempt at escaping his arms before finally giving up. "Good girl, (y/n). Now, let's go home. My mother is about to implode in her excitement to meet you." After that, Illumi returned to the house he had bought for his bag of clothes, then made a beeline for the Zoldyck estate. On the trip there, the long haired assassin tried to make you happy, providing you food, comfortable places to sleep when need-be, and finding you little gifts related to your hobbies to try and entertain and make you smile. He could tell that you were still uncomfortable with him, but you slowly began to warm back up to him when your human need for companionship demanded it. However, the one thing he couldn't save you from or prepare you for, was Kikyo. The woman about tackled Illumi when he pushed open the testing gates, but as soon as you were through and safely on Zoldyck land with your husband protectively at your side, his mother began her fussing. "She looks so ill! Illumi, did you make sure she's physically healthy?" "She's not much to look at, maybe if she tried more make-up and clothes that fit her better?" "Illumi, where are her things? Did you just snatch her up off of the street while she was pregnant?!" The only thing that saved you and Illumi from his mother's judgements and chiding was a firm look from his father, Silva, who was making a rare appearance to greet you in a much calmer manner. "To answer your questions, I will get the family doctor to look her over, and her things had to be left. A threat came up and I needed to bring her here before harm befell her, so I will need to buy her new clothes." The dead eyed assassin assured his mother, who obviously had more hen pecking to do, but she refrained under the stern look of her husband. After that, Illumi got you nicely settled in to his bedroom, and while you did put up some more of a fight over staying there, you mostly accepted your role as his wife-to-be and mother of his child rather easily. He knew you were simply acting out from your hormones and the stress of your situation, so he did his best to keep his temper with you. "It'll be okay (y/n), once you get comfortable here, we'll be happy." Illumi soothed one night after one of your bouts of sobbing and fighting to escape while he sat, cross-legged with you in his lap and his hands rubbing your belly. You weren't showing much yet, but it still pleased him greatly to now have his wife and child safely at home. That's right, he thought, letting a rare smile spread across his usually unreadable face, you're home now, (y/n)...

#Illumi #yandere illumi x reader #x reader #yandere #hisoka #hxh #hunter x hunter #part 12 #quotev #fanfiction

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mistresseast · 3 years

Text

Here is my shuake temporary amnesia threadfic I posted to Twitter earlier! Presented to you in screenshots for the full cinematic experience of being spammed with gross fluff on your timeline. The complete text is under the cut in case you don’t want to or can’t wade through all of those images ❤️

The procedure was really simple. Akira’s appendix hadn’t burst or anything, it was just inflamed and the doctor decided to have it removed as a precaution. Nothing to get worked up about, Goro kept telling himself. His husband would be in and out within a day, no hospital stay required.

Akira was all jokes before the surgery, teasing Goro about putting on a nurse’s outfit to take care of him at home, and Goro just said something threatening about suppositories, which earned a cheeky laugh.

It didn’t take long, and the other thieves showed up right as Akira was getting out. He was pretty woozy as the anesthesia wore off, but Goro was just relieved everything had gone perfectly, according to the surgeon.

When Goro comes back, eyes red-rimmed but dry, the thieves are visibly struggling to hold it together. Ryuji is facing the corner, shoulders shaking. Ann and Futaba are clinging to each and Haru has her hand over her mouth. Makoto is holding her head like she has a headache.

Except when Akira is coherent again, he’s...weird. He keeps avoiding Goro’s eyes and he barely responds to the others when they speak to him. Goro tries to take his hand, and he locks up, going pale. The others just watch, looking awkward, and Goro excuses himself, suddenly feeling ill.

Akira is sitting up in bed, beaming.

“What happened?” Goro asks.

Sumi smiles innocently. “Nothing.”

Goro eyes them all with suspicion. “The neurologist will be here soon to clear him for discharge.”

“Great,” Ann squeaks.

“Somehow, I do not think--” Yusuke starts before two of the others shush him.

Well, that’s weird, but when are the thieves not weird? Goro is more interested in Akira, who’s staring at him with a crooked grin.

“Feeling better?” Goro asks, retaking his seat.

“I am now that you’re here,” Akira says, flashing him a wink.

Goro squints at him. “Are you sure? You were pretty out of it earlier. I can go get a doctor—”

“That was nothing,” Akira insists. “I was just surprised to wake up to someone so pretty waiting at my bedside.”

“Oh is that what it was.” Rolling his eyes, Goro sits forward to guide Akira back down against the pillows. “You shouldn’t be sitting up. You’ll pop your stitches.”

“Yes, sir.” Akira lies back obediently and catches Goro’s hand when he tries to pull away. “I can think of some more fun ways to pop them, anyway. Are you free later?”

Goro stares at him while Futaba lets out a hysterical giggle and Makoto mumbles something.

“You think you’re so cute,” Goro says eventually. “The doctor said to hold off on that for at least a week.”

"Oh, right." Akira hitches up his coy smile. "What's your schedule like in a week, then?"

Cheeks warm, Goro cuts his eyes to the others, who are all studiously avoiding looking at the bed. "What's gotten into you?" he scolds. Akira is never this…overt in public.

Akira's smile droops. "I...sorry, I—" He flicks a glance at the others as well, and Goro catches Ann giving an encouraging little hand wave.

"What?" Goro directs at her. "Is something wrong?"

She shakes her head quickly, eyes wide and glittering.

"Everything's fine," Akira insists. "I was just...uh, wondering if, after I'm recovered, you'd like to grab some coffee or something?"

Goro furrows his brows at him. "You realize that's a ridiculous question, right? What are you playing at?"

"But—you—" Frowning, Akira darts a look down at the ring encircling Goro's fourth finger, then over at the rest of his friends. "You guys—"

Futaba bursts out laughing and Ryuji nearly keels over from the force of his own elated wheezing. Makoto pinches the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry," Akira mumbles, releasing Goro's hand, cheeks red. "I guess they thought it'd be funny to play a trick on a sick person."

"A trick?" Goro repeats blankly.

"Of course you're already taken, someone as hot as you—" Akira scrubs a hand through his hair. "I saw your ring but they said it wasn't—you weren't—"

Realization clicks in Goro's head and he angles a glare at the others, which apparently breaks the final seal because the remaining thieves, minus Makoto, dissolve into helpless giggling.

"I'm really sorry," Akira continues, oblivious. "If I knew, I wouldn't have hit on you, but you're just so...and when I woke up and saw you being so nice to me, I thought, you know—" he grimaces.

"Oh my god." Goro rubs his temples.

"When you left, I asked them if you were single and they said yes, but they were just taking me for a ride." Akira scowls at the others. "Not cool, guys."

Futaba snorts. She has her phone out and pointed at them but Goro can't worry about that at the moment. "Akira, how much do you remember right now?"

Akira shrugs. "Everything's pretty hazy. I figured you all had to be my friends since you don't look like family and you were all really happy when I woke up, but I can't remember the specifics. That happens with anesthesia sometimes, right?"

"Yes, it—" Goro breaks off on a sigh.

"Look, I'm really sorry again," Akira says earnestly, "—and I hope this doesn't make things awkward with us, but I just wanna say that I hope whoever you're with knows how lucky they are."

"Oh, they do," Ryuji pipes up. "They never shut up about it!"

The others all snicker and Goro wishes he was close enough to elbow Ryuji in the gut.

"Good." Akira smiles sadly, putting Goro in mind of a kitten left in the rain. "Who is it, anyway? Do I know them?"

Goro makes a strained noise in the back of his throat. "Akira, it's you."

Akira blinks. "What?"

Digging in his pocket, Goro produces a simple silver band and grabs Akira's hand. "You're the person I'm with, we're married—" he slides the ring into Akira's unresisting finger. "And your friends are all assholes."

Akira stares slack-jawed at his ring. "Wait, really?" He glances between Goro and the others. "Really?"

Goro nods with another sigh while the others struggle to compose themselves.

"Sorry," Ann says, at least looking a little contrite. "When we realized he didn't remember you, we just couldn't resist."

"We owe you," Sumi titters. "Please don't be mad! We'll make it up to you!"

"You absolutely will," Goro grumbles, already planning just how he's going to make the thieves pay for this.

"Hang on—" Akira snags Goro's hand again, eyes shining. "We're really married?"

"Yes," Goro answers patiently. "For nearly two years."

"Holy shit," Akira marvels. "How did I manage that?"

"Here we go," Futaba groans.

Goro shoots her a warning look before reaching over and smoothing Akira's fringe off his forehead. "Hopefully you'll remember that on your own soon." He doesn't really want to recount the whole operatic series of events.

Akira leans shamelessly into the touch, a dopey smile growing on his face.

The neurologist assures them that Akira's brain is fine and that this kind of disorientation is common after general anesthesia. Nevertheless, he stays in the hospital until his memories start returning.

"Look at it this way," Ann suggests while Akira hides his face in embarrassment and Goro signs his discharge papers. "Now you both know that Akira's not just into you because you tried to kill him."

Goro still isn't pleased with the thieves, but he's starting to see the humor in the situation. "That's definitely a load off my mind. Though now I'll have to rethink our anniversary plans."

Akira whines something that sounds like "please stop"

"I did quite enjoy hearing about how hot I am, though."

Akira lowers his hands, pouting petulantly. "I tell you that all the time."

"You should remind me more often."

"Oh?" Some familiar impishness sparks in Akira's gaze. "So you like when I praise you?"

"Your memories must still be hazy because that's not a secret."

"Please don't do this," Makoto begs.

Laughing, Akira ignores her and makes grabby hands at Goro. Smirking, Goro sets his clipboard aside and leans forward, allowing Akira to pull him into a kiss.

It's just as sweet as always.

#shuake #akeshu #shuake fic #my fic #isablogging

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perhapsthanatos · 3 years

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04:42 am with jaehyun ♡

nct’s jaehyun x fem!reader (inspired by a personal experience)

alternate title: just when icarus plummets

genre: angst. non idol au. party!au.

word count: 600~

playlist: the less i know the better by tame impala, lobby by everett bird & *sobs quietly* by mom jeans.

warnings: mentions of other members (not a warning). post partying. mentions of alcohol & alcohol consumption. cursing. mentions of hickies and lipstick stains. talks shit about the conrad (a hotel), but this is fiction, im sure the conrad isnt actually shit. y/n is very mysterious. lowercase intended. not proofread.

a/n: ok i know i said that u should expect a vampire!au :( & ugh another party burb (which came out later than expected, so sorry) :( i just miss experiencing fun shit w fellow idiots & people watching w friends while wasted :( ill warn u rn that this is not my best work, so tread lightly! also big thanks to @fullsunfluff for helping me out w the title & the plot, shes really cool pls check her out or else i will make sure u step on something wet with your white socks on in the next couple of hours (not a threat, a promise)! ALSO TO HELP UR IMAGINATION HERE YOU GO

it was an eventful cheap beer and rotgut liquor type of night, being constantly surrounded by jaded movements of the seemingly uncaring crowds. coaxed by johnny and his other friends to attend another one of their shitty house parties, jaehyun never knew what was to come of it. he honestly just thought that it was just gonna be another one of those nights, playing beer pong and staying in his little circle of popular and exclusive friends. but holy fuck, he really did underestimate how heavy he would feel afterwards, and not by the alcohol.

now, he clumsily stumbles back to his hotel holding his own hand with his body badly bruised from vertigo, out alone in the cold drizzling rain. his heart bleeds out furiously as if he’d just been stabbed.

somewhere in the middle of the night, he met a girl. it wouldn’t sound surprising due to the sheer amount of charm he effortlessly carries with him constantly, but only god knows that he is absolutely terrible at love. he is so bad at it, that it almost seemed like an actual curse for a hopeless romantic like him. but to be fair, as soon as he saw you, his first thought was that you were way too good to be true or just too good to become his anyway.

being with you (even if it was for just a couple hours) was like a one time high in all the best ways.

in a black skin-tight dress, you and jaehyun magically hit it off very well as if you were friends for the longest time and not strangers. you were an enigma, a beauty, a grace. he only seemed to be getting helplessly pulled into your orbit more and more. that was until you were gone in the snap of a finger (maybe even quicker).

to be blunt, he didn’t know what the fuck happened. did you guys just lose each other in the crowds? was there a miscommunication? were you doing this on purpose? were you nothing but a mere fraction of his imagination? was he too gone to notice? when he asked people around, why did no one have answers to you?

finally reaching the lobby of the conrad hotel he was staying in, he does a small walk of shame. employees and guests only stare at him in pity as he reaches the elevators to retreat to his room.

unlocking the door after a few attempts, he manages to get in. he takes off his damp coat to throw it off somewhere and he catches a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror.

fucking hell.

he looks like a mess. his hair and clothes were disheveled and the gloom under his eyes are so dark, you could almost brew tea with them. but there was one thing that stood out to him.

there was a certain hue of red that stained his skin. it looked like some sort of sick and twisted masterpiece. it was on his lips and scattered all around his neck. his head subconsciously plays of supercut of how it got there, and again, all his thoughts travel back to you, the visions replaying over and over.

the pristine hotel room is off-putting. after being wasted and having such a messy night himself, the room looks too clean, making it hard to look at. it feels as if though he doesn’t belong.

but as uninviting the room may be, he still walks over to the desk to grab his notebook and a pen. he won't allow himself to not remember you when he is sober. he flips open to the first blank page he finds and hastily scribbles his every thought surrounding you, letting his mind become restless as it shows him versions of you in different dimensions until dawn breaks.

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vee-is-a-writter-now · 4 years

Text

The way you said “I love you”

Summary: All the times you and Zuko said I love you to eachother, sometimes without even actually saying it.

A/N: I was feeling a little uninspired while trying to write pt.4 of Fools, so I decided to write something else in the mean time. I saw someone did this and I found it so adorable I decided to do it too. Sadly I only saved the original post and not the hc that was inspired in it, so if you know who came up with this pls @ them so I can credit them.

Side note, I had more ideas for some of the other prompts but didn’t want to make this excessively long, so maybeeee I’ll make another one of these but we’ll see.

original post

-IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUESTS DONT HESITATE TO ASK-

As a hello

It was late on the night the gaang had finally agreed to let Zuko join them. They hadn’t been specially trustful or accepting of him, but they let him join, and that was what mattered to Zuko, he’ll work his way up to everything else.

He couldn’t sleep, thoughts about everything that had happened and everything that would happen running around in his mind. The stars above him glimmered in wonderful harmony, the time of the year where the sun would be more forgiving at day and the nights would gain a growing coolness to them came around.

Lost in his head, Zuko was startled when he heard you take a sit next to him. You were the only one in the group who Zuko didn’t know that well. He’d only seen you a handful of times before that night and couldn’t really tell on what ground he stood with you.

You handed him a blanket with one hand while you held your own around your back and over your shoulders with the other. “Didn’t want you to freeze to death on your first night.” You explained when you saw the confused look of his face.

“I’m a fire bender, I don’t get cold.” He replied taking only a couple of seconds to mentally slap himself for being rude. This being a good guy thing was gonna take some practice.

“Oh” you said, the realization of his words hitting you, feeling a little dumb for not thinking about it before.

“But thanks...anyways” Zuko tried to redeem himself, hoping he didn’t make a bad impression on the one person who didn’t hate him already.

“Yeah, no problem.” Your eyes drifted up to the stars too. They were prettier tonight, maybe it was because of how peaceful things felt for once. A deep sigh forced you to turn your attention back to the dark haired boy. “Are you ok?” You asked him, hoping he wouldn’t feel like you’re intruding.

“Yeah, just...worried. Katara still hates me, Sokka doesn’t trust me and Aang only keeps me around because he needs me. I’m not complaining, I just... don’t know how to show them I’ve changed.”

“I’m sure Katara is gonna come around eventually, she has too much of a big heart to stay mad at anyone for too long. Aang is the one that convinced everyone to let you join, so I think he does like you, and Sokka is...well, Sokka, I wouldn’t worry about it” you reassured him.

Zuko gave your words a thought. You were right, but things were still complicated. He looked at you and asked. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

You looked away from his gaze, his golden eyes were a bit intimidating if you were honest. “I...don’t know. I guess I just believe you when you say you’ve changed. I see good in you... I always have, even when we were running away from you. All of us have done things in the past we aren’t too proud of, some of them may be worse than others, but we’re all here now, and we’re all trying to do the right thing. I think that on its own makes you worthy of a second chance.”

Your words shocked Zuko. No one besides his uncle had been that kind to him in a long time. He felt hope inside, if someone as kind and good as you could forgive him, think that he could be redeemed, then he hoped everyone else would too. “I...thank you. I promise I won’t disappoint you... any of you.”

“You and I can start on a blank slate, as a matter of fact” you extended your hand to him. “Hi, I’m Y/N, very nice to meet you.”

Zuko chuckled very lightly at the weird way you had decided to show how it was a new beginning for the both of you, but played along. “I’m Zuko, it’s very nice to meet you too.”

When the broken glass litters the floor

It was your first day on the Ember Island’s house. Katara and you had been cooking with the groceries Sokka and Suki brought from the market. You two weren’t experts but you had gotten so much better by then. Katara decided to go outside with a basket of cabbages to feed Appa and told you to stay and check on the food so it wouldn’t burn.

No more than a few minutes passed before you heard Zuko coming inside from where he had been training with Aang. He took his shirt off at some point during the training, leaving his naked and muscular torso was exposed.

You tried your best not to stare but you couldn’t help the blush that took over your face when you looked up to his eyes and found him staring right back. His cheeks were blushed as well and you decided for your own sake to assume it was from the physical activity.

“Hey...um, do you mind pouring me a glass of water, please?” He asked softly, his voice a tad raspier from him being out of breath.

“Yeah sure.” You managed to say.

When you turned around to get a glass for him your arm bumped into a glass vase that was incredibly bad placed, throwing it off from where it had been resting. One of your feet was already lifted when the vase crashe onto the floor and into a million pieces, which made you nearly lose your balance and step right on the fragments. In a fraction of a second you felt Zuko’s hand grabbing your wrist and pulling you back, which made you very strongly land on his chest. His other hand instantly moved to the small of your back, as if he was scared you would fall without his support.

His eyes met yours as you raised your head to look at him, your faces closer than they’d ever been before. Both of you held your breath for a few seconds before you broke the silence. “thank you.” You muttered softly not wanting to move a single muscle.

“You’re welcome” Zuko replied in the same tone, softening the grip on your wrist.

The moment would’ve lasted way longer had Katara not stormed into the kitchen after hearing the sound of breaking glass.

“I left you in the kitchen alone for ONE SECOND!”

Not said to me

Zuko had clearly been avoiding you the past couple of days. Was it the war that was starting to gain weight inside his head? Was it how close you two had started to get all of the sudden? Was it something you did? You didn’t know for sure, but you knew you didn’t like the feeling of it, at all.

He told everyone one morning he wasn’t feeling great, so he would stay inside instead of spending the day at the beach like the rest of you had planned. This was your chance to get him alone and try to talk.

You decided to make him a special tea recipe you’d picked up from Iroh at some point, he said it was a miracle when it came to curing illness. When you tried it you were surprised from how good it ended up tasting. You poured it into a teapot and grabbed a couple of cups, proceeding to take them upstairs where Zuko’s room was.

You were about to walk right in when you heard Sokka voice coming from inside, realizing the door was only half open.

“You can’t do nothing, dude. What kind of dumb ass plan is that?” He said whisper-screaming.

“I’m not telling her.” Zuko replied in a voice so low you almost couldn’t hear him.

“Why not? She clearly likes you back, you know that, I know that, and everyone else does too. The two of you are the only ones who keep acting like it isn’t obvious.”

You wonder who they could possibly be talking about, a small pit of jealousy forming inside of you.

“You don’t know that for sure, and I’m not losing Y/N’s friendship just cause I was dumb enough to crush on her. Trying to get over it is better than getting rejected and ruining everything, I like her too much to do that.” as soon as you heard your name your heart stopped.

Zuko... liked you. He liked you and was scared you didn’t like him back. How could he ever think that? Sometimes you felt like you were too obvious about it, but it was hard not to. It was his golden eyes, probably the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, how they looked like growing flames when the sun hit them, the little dark spots around the rim of his irises, how they looked at you intensely like if when you talked everything else faded. It was the way he would throw his head back when he laughed, but only when you made him laugh really hard, how his face glowed with a youthful tint, like he was a normal teenager even though you were in the middle of a war, and how when he stopped laughing he had to take a deep breath before letting the laugh die down. It was the way he talked about his mom with such love and adoration, or how he talked about the future with a little bit of fear but mostly hope. It was the way he was always ready to run to you if you needed him to, making sure you were ok, protecting you. It was him, all of him, it had always been him.

You were shocked at the words you just heard but glad you’d heard them. Before either of them walked out and found you there, you walked back downstairs as quietly as you could, praying they wouldn’t hear the creaks of the stairs. Once you were back at the kitchen you decided to wait for Sokka to come down, he had to eventually, and you hoped he would leave Zuko alone when he did. It didn’t take him much longer to do so, to your relief coming down the stairs alone. He looked at you and smiled.

“Hey, Y/N. Watcha doing?”

“Making tea for Zuko, is he feeling any better?”

“Oh, no. He’s terrible, the poor thing. You should definitely go check on him.” He tried to say this without smiling so you would take him seriously but the corners of his mouth were already starting to curve up.

“Will do, thanks Sokka.” On the surface, you were thanking him for the information he was giving you, but deep down you were also thanking him for being the reason why you found out Zuko also liked you.

You walked back upstairs, not even thinking of bringing the tea up with you. You took in a deep breath before opening the door, and you when you did, you saw him laying there, eyes closed at first but opened quickly when he heard you come in.

“Y/N... hi.” He said sitting up.

“Hey, wanted to check up on you, Sokka said you were feeling terrible.” You told him knowing he would kill Sokka afterwards for sabotaging him.

“I’m not feeling terrible, I’m much better actually, but thanks for coming to check on me.” You took a sit on his bed, close enough to be able to do what you were planning your next move to be.

“I’m glad. We need you up and in your best shape right now.” You waited a few seconds trying to gather all the bravery you had inside before saying. “Zuko?”

“Yes?”

You didn’t warn him before closing the space that separated the two of you, one of your hands went up to cup his cheek while your lips pressed softly against his. You could tell he was shocked by how his body stiffened under your touch, your lips moved softly and slowly trying to figure out wether he wanted to kiss you or not. You were about to pull away when he started kissing you back. His own hand sliding up to your neck, holding you firmly while his lips devoured yours, like he had been waiting for this moment for way too long. When the two of you finally pulled apart to fill in your lungs again, your eyes connected with his, there was a new kind of light in them. A smile took over his lips when his eyes drifted back down to your lips.

“Were you eavesdropping when I was talking to Sokka?” He asked softly and teasingly.

“What in the world would make you think that?”

Over and over again, till it’s nothing but a senseless babble

You were under the covers in Zuko’s bed. Your eyes deeply staring into his, your fingers running up and down his jaw, sometimes getting distracted and playing with his hair. The moonlight leaked through the window and the only sounds that could be heard were the ones of trees swaying with the wind.

Zuko looked at you intensely and profoundly. He was sure you were a dream sometimes, something so perfect couldn’t be real, so he touched you to make sure you were actually there, and he held you gently but firmly to make sure that even if you were a dream, he wouldn’t lose you.

“We should sleep” you muttered in a whisper

“We should” he replied his lids already looking a little heavy.

“Good night, Zuko.” You planted a little short peck on his lips before starting to turn around.

“Good night, Y/N” he replied getting comfortable. “I love you.”

Your heart stopped at this words, a warm feeling started to crawl up your body and your eyes that were already closed opened abruptly.

You turned back around to find him staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open while holding his breath. “What did you just say?” You asked him.

“I-... I’m sorry it just...slipped.” He explained.

You knew he could be a little insecure sometimes, always thought he was unlovable so you had to constantly make sure he knew how much you liked him. This was one of those occasions. You crashed your lips against his roughly, pulling him so he would be on top of you. This kiss was a declaration, a promise and a revelation all at the same time, your lips moved hungrily and passionately trying to show him how much you loved him back.

Once you separated you looked at him sweetly and said “Say it again.”

“I love you.” Zuko was more sure of himself this time, a warm smile took over his face.

“Again, please.”

“I love you.”

“One more time.”

He took your face into your hands and kissed your forehead first. “I love you” then he went to your right cheek “I love you” and to the left “I love you” and to your nose “I love you” and finally took in a deep breath before looking to your lips “Y/N Y/L/N you have no idea how much I fucking love you” he kissed you again.

Maybe you couldn’t understand how much love he felt for you, how it burned inside of him like a wild fire, how when you were with him all his worries faded and the rest of the world was put on pause, maybe you’d never even grasp the way you were his first thought in the morning and his last at night, but he could try showing all of it to you with a kiss.

You pulled away to look at him one last time and said “I love you more, I will always love you more.”

#zuko x reader #zuko fanfic #atla zuko #zuko x you #zuko imagine #avatar zuko #prince zuko #zuko #zuko x y/n #fire lord zuko #zuko x oc #atla au #atla fandom #atla fanfic

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ronalddear · 3 years

Text

Bathroom.

hi again! This is another drabble/missing moment set during dh after the wedding. Again this is only my second time writing any fic so it's very amateur.

This was requested by @nuttybeardetective , and was inspired by this post of mine. Ron is vaguely prudish in this but seeing as this is only my second time writing, I don't think I'm ready to write full-on smut yet. hope you enjoy <3

WARNING: none except for language, because it's Ron ;)

WORDS: 1515

The dim cold ambience of Grimmauld Place did nothing to soothe the uneasiness of the wedding attack and Ron was utterly fed up. One week after their untimely arrival at the grim house enticed them to try and settle into their temporary 'home'. At least physically anyway, Harry was now occupying Sirius' room in reserved isolation and after another night of sleeping adjacent in the drawing-room, he and Hermione had wordlessly agreed upon sleeping in their respective rooms that they'd occupied during the summer before 5th year, with some unannounced hesitation on his part.

The minuscule amount of clothes he carried was unpacked, his worn toothbrush now stood in the cup designated on the 2nd story bathroom, opposite his bedroom. The kitchen table was now draped in Hermione's lists and notes of all sorts, a map of the Ministry adorning the centre. Yet Ron felt as if mentally he was still at the Burrow, packing the extra healing supplies from the bathroom cupboard or stood in the stuffy kitchen, duplicating his mother's kitchenware to stuff into his rucksack.

The immediate thought of the burrow made his stomach drop and his head spin. The forced confinement made him feel ill. It felt as if he was in deep quarantine and had no knowledge of the world outside. This scared him so intensely that his paranoia was at an all-time high after a week without family communication. Surely the whole Horcrux-hunting fiasco would last longer than a week? A couple months maybe? Could he go that long without his serene home, the sunny hillside near the refreshing pond, and his family, who were at risk of being imprisoned or killed because of their non-prejudiced beliefs?

His stomach dropped again and his shoulders sagged under the scorching heat of the water flowing across his frame. He discovered that hot water was helpful for him to relax, only temporarily of course but it was much better than the frigid water in the small shower the burrow housed or the short-lived heating charm that made him feel as if he was showering in lukewarm tea rather than a proper hot shower.

His only downside was that his creamy skin was almost brick red, yet somehow his freckles showed through like a common childhood disease that Hermione had mentioned getting in her early years. He could not remember the name. His hair laid flat on his head, a darker red when wet but now longer than a quiff, he ran his gangly fingers through it, sweeping it back but failing to contain a few stray pieces, which dangled near the curve of his cheek and tickled his ears.

Goosebumps spread across flesh the instant his heels touched the cool tile. The sudden temperature change brought about a shock and he scrambled for his towel to aid his chill. After hastily wrapping it around his waist, he clumsily aimed for his vest to wear until he got to the room so at least he wouldn't freeze to death. Vest in hand, the metal toothbrush cup clanged off the side of the counter, making a ruckus in its wake.

Vest now over his head and arms, bunched just under his chest. the cup was replaced to its original spot and a good few swears had escaped his breath. He bent across the counter to clear the mirror of the steam that emanated from the shower when he felt the slightest brush against his bareback.

"Shit!"

"Sorry!'

His hand frantically searched for his wand to provide defence but unless towels came with pockets then he was out of luck. Hermione's alarmed voice stabbed through the bathroom and the echo lingered for a bit, just enough until he processed that she was in front of him. Her eyebrows were raised and her mahogany eyes were wide after she jumped away from him suddenly.

"Um..Hi.” she started with a great inhale.

Ron's heart rate hadn't returned to normal and his mouth was agape at the sight of her so suddenly appearing in the bathroom. Where he was. Alone. Until she came in of course. So now it was just him and her. Alone. He suddenly became very aware that he had just come out of the shower and was revealing a particular amount of torso, which was probably solid red now with a litter of freckles that he didn't fancy too much himself.

"Uh hey?" he started, completely at a loss of how to conduct the situation, while he sheepishly smoothed down the vest along his stomach. She couldn't have come in here to discuss Horcruxes right? Actually, he wouldn't put it past her to do just that, to be honest.

"I uh.. well I came to shower and I realised that you were still in here, still are in here so.. but yeah your vest was rolled up a bit sorry, just wanted to.. uh fix it, yeah, sorry." she stumbled over her words a lot, something he'd never heard from Hermione but she seemed to speak extremely fast yet agonisingly slow and deliberate at the same time.

She was breathing in deeply again and his eyes fell to the stray tight curls that graced the nape of her neck which her haphazard-looking ponytail exposed. The bathroom was quite dim and the yellow glow from the dingy lights fell just barely on her dark skin. Skin. His eyes travelled a little further to see she was wearing a vest herself, no a camisole, he didn't know what it was but his gaze was hooked on the space between her shoulder and collarbone. He had the urge to touch it with his lips.

He quickly averted his eyes as to not embarrass himself but they glanced over her bare legs in moderately short cotton shorts and he sucked his breath in so hard he was now bent at a slight curve, stomach clenched and breath hitched. He was quickly overwhelmed at the intimacy the situation opposed. Hell, he couldn't believe he was describing an interaction with Hermione as intimate. His ears were on fire surely, he'd need an Aquamenti to put them out if he survived.

"Oh", his voice heightened toward the end and he internally cringed so hard he thought he was going to combust.

"Yeah", she whispered, her eyes were on his arms, his brain scars were fully displayed and swirled across his recently filled out arms.

"I thought you were using the bathroom near your room?" he spoke softly and slowly, drinking in the sight of her lips, which she was toying with impatiently, now flushed.

There was an urge to cover his arms but he resisted and tried to focus on a chipped tile near the door. He failed as soon as she spoke once more, her voice clearer this time and with, almost, determination?

"I think I like this one more." she spoke, referring to the bathroom seemingly but her eyes were nowhere but him.

She intentionally made eye contact and his heart dropped to his lower stomach, his chest unnaturally warm. Wasn't this room cold as shit before? He was smart enough to know that bathroom was the last bloody thing she was talking about but words failed and he was more than happy to let her steer the conversation.

"Can I ask why?', he managed, his mouth was dry and he was sure he's never wanted anything more than for her to touch him, anywhere, she could slap him if she wanted and he would relish her skin on his.

Their breaths were erratic now, you'd swear they'd run a marathon twice over. Her chest was rising and falling agonisingly slow. He was still bent a bit so he was leaning towards her and she seemed to have gotten closer since she jumped back earlier. When did that happen?

"It's a bit more spacious I think, prettier interior as well", she whispered, swallowing halfway in between and added in the last bit staring so far into his eyes that he swore she was probably seeing through his head.

Pretty. Did she just say pretty? He was pretty sure she said pretty. No one had called him that before and if she had just called him fucking pretty he was going to die on the spot. Her words kept repeating in his head, soft and intentional. His entire body was frozen and he knew that the ground wasn't cold enough to make his legs tremble the way they were now. She gazed up at him and he swore he saw a glint of satisfaction after his reaction.

"Right, well, I'll let you have it then..Enjoy.", he applauded himself in restaining his voice from wavering at the end.

She gave a small thanks and he started to walk towards the door, her to the shower. Her bare shoulder touched his elbow at the exact moment her eucalyptus shampoo wafted towards his nose and he swore he almost whimpered. Their eye contact was only broken by the door closing and Ron almost collapsing on the other side.

PLEASE REVIEW! <3

#my fic #fic rec #harry potter headcanon #hermone granger #ron weasley #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley defence squad #ron weasley appreciation #romione #romione fanfiction #romione fanfic #ron x hermione #hermione granger headcanon #the golden trio #this is really long again sorry I just love details #hope you enjoy

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youngbeanpole · 3 years

Text

A message from BP’s mail-lady

hoo boy here we go. this is gonna be a long post.

hi! im lemon, and i started this blog on april 2nd 2012. and today, april 22nd 2021, im posting beanpole’s last message here. its been one hell of a ride.

how it all started i was 15, spending time on tumblr, when i suddenly started seeing people posting about this movie that was about to be released soon, called the lorax. now, im not american, so i had never really heard of dr seuss, but people were so enthusiastic! so i watched a shitty cam-rip of the movie and joined the fandom.

and then the askblogs started, the first one i came across being swag, of course. i had run askblogs for other fandoms before, so i wanted to join in on the fun. but regular once-ler was already taken... and green suit once-lers, and audrey and ted too... so i had to come up with something original.

the movie started with the once-ler leaving home and his family showing just how awful they were, and i started thinking, ‘man, his childhood mustve sucked..’ ‘haha what if i made a blog about once-ler when he was my age?’

an impulse decision that somehow gained me 100 followers in a week. somehow relatable tumblr teen once-ler was relatable to 2012 tumblr. who couldve known?

i get kinda emotional looking back at it, honestly. people were so fun and creative. id stay up late to keep talking to people (bc timezones are hell). and i had a lot of fun just pretending to be a flawed boy, one who seemed nice but could be rather snarky, who would lie and break promises at the drop of a hat, but only because he didnt know any better, not out of malice. and i couldnt have done it without you all. i never wouldve known that he hates tomatoes, or likes celine dion, or wears the same thneed every dang day just because that happened to be his icon.

was it silly to get obsessed with a childrens movie? maybe. but i had a great time. (im also happy to see there are still people in the fandom that are carrying on the legacy... you guys rock)

truffula flu i think most people that remember bp remember him from truffula flu’s camp entre, over at youngbeansprout... a blog ive sadly lost the password to. im a big baby so i never thought id enjoy writing about something as scary as zombies, but i saw my friends doing it so i went in blind, without any idea on a backstory for the au or whatever. ....which is probably why he wasnt always all that prominent in the story, haha. well, that, and timezones.

it was probably an even wilder time than running this blog was, because there was actual plot. and people would liveblog it. and make fanart. and cosplay??? someone out there? cosplayed my oc to a convention? its one of those things that make you go. huh. i made something cool. probably never gonna reach that high ever again, but it sure is a fond memory. i still have a folder on my computer with all the fanart and it still brings a smile to my face.

also... i never did get to finish zombie au’s story, but i did plan how it would end. so if youve managed to read this far, congratulations! youve hit the hidden deep lore.

---

so the thing with truffula flu was that entre made the trees fucked up, right? and those spores would turn ppl into zombies. and of course you could become a zombie from being bitten, but it also traveled through the air...

everyone in camp entre (who wasnt immune or already infected) wore a gasmask, a bandana, something to cover their mouth. bp, who wandered into the apocalypse by accident, did not. he didnt even know.

so little by little, the spores gathered in his lungs, until he realized. oh no. im getting sick. oh no. oh no oh no oh no. he messed around audrey’s equipment to confirm he was infected, and he got scared. he was a scared kid and he was going to die.

except. ted had handed him a cure for safe-keeping. a cure bp had sworn to protect with his life. but it could save him, right? in a moment of cowardice, he uses it on himself... only to find out there never was a cure. (now heres the part where my memory gets fuzzy but) the ‘’’cure’’’ was given to ted, who was already slightly rotting, meant as a mercy kill. the people who gave him the cure assumed he would use it on himself.

except ted was a good kid, who wanted to use the cure to help others. and beanpole? his lies and broken promises came back to bite him in the ass, and he died sudden and alone. the end. :)

ANYWAY

the end of an era ive wanted to wrap this blog up for several years now but i never knew how. younger me wanted to give him a happy ending, which back then i thought was getting him a girlfriend.

but as i got older, i realized... not everything can be fixed with a relationship. he’d have to learn to overcome his flaws by himself, learn his lesson about honesty and sincerity and the dangers of greed. and then, maybe he’ll have a happy ending.

so as he rides into the sunset on this day, imagine. maybe he’ll end up cutting down a forest and regretting it the rest of his life. maybe he’ll become a rock-star. an inventor. a teacher. a gentleman. a cannibal? okay, maybe not that one or maybe he’ll continue traveling forever, singing songs about boredom.

who knows? there’s infinite possibilites out there.

and with that, im logging off too. if you ever need me, ill be over on twitter as his deoncelerized self, bean.

#ooc #this got really long lmao but i had too many stories to tell

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olivinesea · 3 years

Text

A Mixed Blessing

Chapter List

chapter five: swallow the sun

a/n: Sorry about this one, just know I feel fairly guilty and also there will be some happiness somewhere down the line. Just not here. Warnings: substance use, abuse & violence, vomit, suicidal thoughts…no, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Too deep in it to turn back now. ~5.5k

The first thing Aaron noticed was how very dry his mouth was. He tried to swallow but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. With significant determination, he lifted his hand, heavy and prickling as if the blood had pooled, to scratch the tip of his nose. He sighed at the immediate relief it brought. On their own accord, his fingers moved to address another itch, this one on the side of his neck. He hummed at the sensation brought on by the feeling of his fingernails dragging against his skin. Never before had scratching an itch felt so good, he was sure of it. He heard a voice mutter beside him. Turning his head, he saw Cole stretched out on the bed next to him.

“Hmm?” He hadn’t understood the muffled syllables.

“I said stop that,” he said, waving his hand in Aaron’s direction, like he wanted to grab him but couldn’t quite reach.

Only half listening, his attention caught up elsewhere, Aaron wasn’t sure what he meant and didn’t much care either. He moved his hand down to scratch at his shoulder, drawn by the bit of skin exposed by his shirt collar. Cole finally managed to make contact, shoving Aaron’s shoulder, knocking his hand away.

“You’re just going to make it worse,” he explained, words slow and thick.

Grudgingly Aaron dropped his hand to his side, but his fingers continued to twitch. His mind felt cloudy and he tried to remember what he had been doing. How long had he been laying here? He pushed himself up into a sitting position. His head swam and a wave of nausea washed over him. He closed his eyes, leaning with palms pressed against his knees, trying to gather his thoughts. Inhaling slowly through his nose, all he could think about was the damp mildew smell of the garage, of how much he disliked it and the way it felt like mold was trying to colonize his airways.

“What time is it?”

“Fuck if I know,” Cole replied with a laugh.

Aaron rubbed his face, he needed to get home. Home seemed so far away but he needed to make it back before his father got up for work. He gritted his teeth and tried to push himself up off the mattress. Cole’s hand shot out, wrapping tightly around his wrist, holding him in place. He looked down at it, the edges of his skin whitening beneath the pressure. His heart beat faster.

“I have to go,” he tried to say, but his voice wasn’t cooperating. The words came out wispy and thin.

Cole smiled, eyes still closed. “Happy birthday, Aaron.”

Aaron blushed, opening his mouth, but failing to make any sound. Cole let go, stretching both arms above his head, humming with contentment. Aaron’s arm tingled where Cole had gripped it, his skin resuming its normal color as the blood rushed back into place.

“Now get out of here.”

Aaron nodded, still unable to speak. There was far too much happening around him, between the lights and the smell and the touch lingering on his arm, still confused about what had happened but clinging to the peace he had felt. He didn’t have time to process what he was feeling, his only focus was the need to get home. He managed to stand up, his legs unsteady as he stumbled to the door, pulling it up only enough to fit under. Before ducking down, he looked back at Cole, still sprawled out on the bed. Thank you, he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure if the words actually came out.

The walk home was difficult, stumbling into lamp posts and tripping over uneven sidewalk in the freezing midnight air. Eventually he made it, up the stairs and into his room without incident. He undressed, shedding his clothes directly onto the floor. A problem for tomorrow. With his last reserve of energy he climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin, teeth chattering as he shivered, sweat beading at his temples. He curled onto his side and wrapped his hand around his wrist, holding it where Cole had grabbed him, pulling it against his chest as he closed his eyes and tried to remember every detail of how it had felt. He rubbed his face against his pillow, squeezing his wrist tighter. He fell asleep like that, holding his own hand, pretending it was someone else.

The sun filtering in through his window forced Aaron awake. His head was throbbing and he felt a hollowness in the pit of his stomach. Groaning, he rolled over to block out the light. He could hear Sean’s little footsteps running down the hallway, nearing his door. He closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep, hoping it would be enough to get Sean to leave him alone. The door creaked as it opened slightly.

“Aaron?” his brother stage whispered.

Aaron didn’t move though anxiety spiked through his chest.

“Mom says it’s time for you to get up.”

Aaron felt bile rising in the back of his throat.

“Aaron?” A little louder this time, his shrill child’s voice piercing through Aaron’s skull. “Mom says—” He was startled when Aaron suddenly jumped up, pushing past him as he raced for the bathroom.

He barely fumbled the lock into place behind him before falling on his knees and throwing up into the toilet. He felt a strange surge of contentment as it happened, relief as the limited contents of his stomach left his body. He leaned back against the cool porcelain of the tub, forehead flushed with sweat. It felt like he had a fever but also like his skin was buzzing pleasantly. Outside, Sean was banging on the bathroom door.

“Aaron?” he sounded on the verge of tears.

“I’m fine, Sean.” His ragged voice contradicted the assurance, throat raw from dehydration and sickness. He heard a sniffle and sighed. “I’m just going to take a shower, I’ll be down soon.” He felt out of breath, so many words taking a toll. He leaned his head between his knees, another wave of nausea threatening to overtake him. There were some unintelligible sounds from the other side of the door and then, further away, Sean calling for their mother as he ran downstairs.

Aaron reached behind himself, fumbling for the taps, knowing that he needed to get moving. There was no way his mother would let him stay home, he’d learned that well enough. Plus he didn’t want to answer any questions, didn’t feel up to enduring her accusatory looks. She knew enough about what her son was getting into to be suspicious of any sudden illness. She would never say anything to him directly, but she knew how to make him uncomfortable, how to let him know his behavior was unwelcome. Besides, if he went to school he could see Cole, the only person he really wanted to see anyway. He had questions, very important questions.

When the water was hot, he climbed in, his whole body shivering its confusion at the conflicting temperatures. His skin felt chilled while his insides burned, the headache had worked its way from the back to the front of his skull. He braced his hand against the tiled wall and turned his face into the spray. Eyes closed, he could almost feel the bliss of the night before, when everything around him faded away and he was left with a rush of warmth and the softness of oblivion holding him. He’d give anything to have that feeling again.

Aaron didn’t even make it through second period, by nine a.m. his anxiety had built to an intolerable degree. He needed to talk to Cole. His heart, its rhythm fluctuating wildly from racing to non-existence, felt like it was going to burst any moment. He lurched out of his seat and towards the door, a half formed excuse about needing the restroom barely leaving his lips. The teacher snorted, watching him leave, then returned to her lesson, not giving a second thought to it. He wasn’t her problem, let the truancy officers deal with that one.

He found Cole smoking behind the portables, just as he had the first time months ago. Cole didn’t look any worse for wear, certainly not sick in the way Aaron was. When he gave him that same infuriating smile, as if he knew something, some secret that he wasn’t sharing, Aaron felt a surge of resentment. It overwhelmed his usual hesitation, his deference to the older boy. He was always waiting on a signal from him, waiting for an invitation. This time he grabbed Cole’s arm and dragged him away from the group. Cole laughed, shaking him off but reaching a hand out to steady him at the same time. Aaron’s balance hadn’t quite returned.

“What’s up kid?” he asked, letting go once it seemed like he wouldn’t fall over.

Aaron gave him a dark look. “What did you give me last night? Was that…what was that?”

“What do you think?” Cole raised an eyebrow, daring him to say it.

Aaron grimaced. “Heroin?”

“Bingo.”

“Isn’t that—should we be doing that?”

Cole shrugged. “Well, did you like it?”

Hesitantly, Aaron nodded.

“Want to do it again?”

Aaron’s breath caught at the intense rush of desire, the absolute certainty that he wanted to do it again. Would do anything to make that to happen.

“Yes, please,” his voice cracked, hating the way it felt like he was begging.

They fell into an uneasy routine. Cole insisted he could only get high like that once a week, though he complained about being treated like a child. After seeing how sick it made him, he agreed it made the most sense to keep it to the weekends, when Aaron could disappear for a couple days without anyone calling to say he was missing school and his father was generally too inebriated to note whether he came home or not. He spent the whole week anxiously thinking about it, blowing through packs of cigarettes and joint after joint, trying to manage the rising anticipation of the high that was coming. The gnawing expectation of returning to that place, where no one and nothing mattered, where he didn’t exist.

He refused to admit to himself that the high was always a little bit disappointing. The rush was there, the relief after days of waiting, of unconsciously picking at scabs until they bled, of being too anxious to eat. He was losing weight but no one noticed, he was never that solid to begin with. But beyond that, he was always left craving more. Maybe if he just did a little more he could find what he was looking for. He started to bug Cole about adding another day, dipping into the supply twice a week. He didn’t know where Cole was buying the drugs so he couldn’t get them on his own, otherwise he would have. He might have been nervous about it at first but he was invested now. Nothing he’d tried before had given him that same sense of relief.

Cole snapped at him after he’d asked one time too many. He threatened to take it away entirely, telling Aaron he was too attached, that he needed to calm down. Aaron felt like he’d been stung, retreating into himself, refusing speak to Cole for several days. Not until Friday rolled around again at least, then he was back, as eager as ever, ready to say whatever he needed to convince Cole to share that way out with him again.

Alongside his increasingly frequent clashes with Cole, things were getting tenser at home. School had been calling relentlessly, asking why he was missing so much class. Every time he came home he was met with yelled accusations, with blows that did nothing to change his behavior. He started coming home later and later, hoping to avoid his father entirely. It worked for awhile, sneaking into the house well after dark, sleeping in his closet so it wasn’t obvious he’d come home. It worked so well in fact that he thought he’d solved the problem and he got careless with his precautions.

It was a night when he came back earlier than usual, having argued with Cole again about something trivial that was really an argument about drugs. He wasn’t thinking straight, still caught up in his irritation that Cole wouldn’t take him seriously, wouldn’t trust that he knew his own limits. He was climbing the stairs, too stoned and angry to be cautious. A large hand wrapped around his neck just as he reached the top of the stairs. He looked up startled, red eyes blearily taking in the form of his father. His nerves were too dulled to panic. In fact, this moment made a lot of sense to him. It was the obvious outcome if he had cared to look ahead at all. He coughed as the hand tightened, cutting into his airway.

“What do you think you’re doing?” his father asked.

Aaron tried to shake his head, grabbing at the fingers holding him in place, trying to pry them off.

“Did you know the cops came looking for you today?” He sounded almost conversational, the faint scent of bourbon the only detail giving away his insobriety.

Aaron had a hard time understanding what he was talking about, too focused on getting air into his lungs.

“And do you know what they said to me, when I told them I didn’t know where my delinquent son was?” His grip tightened, rendering Aaron’s struggles useless as he tried and failed to twist away. “They said without a properly excused reason for absence, they would hold me, me, responsible if you didn’t start attending school regularly.”

He laughed and the sound was cold and terrifying. He leaned in close to Aaron’s face. “Let’s give you a reason to miss school, shall we?”

He released his grip, tossing Aaron backwards as he did so. His eyes were emotionless as he watched his son crash down the wooden staircase. Only a slight hint of disgust was visible as he brushed his hand off on his pant leg. The sound brought his mother flying out of her bedroom, looking over the railing, horrified at the unnatural shape Aaron’s body was now making.

He was dazed but not unconscious, staring at the ceiling once again. How many times had he been in this position? He couldn’t even feel his body, didn’t register any pain. When his mother came down the stairs, anxiously tapping his cheek to try to get him to focus on her, his eyes slid away from her face, looking at the ring on her finger, the thing that tied her to this monster pretending to be human. He felt his own fingers, no ring there, no reason to stay. Distantly he heard crying and wondered why anyone would cry over him.

Sean had also been woken up by the noise. The little boy tried to come to Aaron’s side, but his mother waved him back, still looking at Aaron with concern. He hadn’t moved but that was mostly because he didn’t want to, not because he couldn’t. She didn’t know that. He realized it was Sean crying. This stirred an emotion somewhere deep inside his chest. Perhaps that was why he kept coming home—he loved Sean. Or he had. He didn’t feel much anymore except a desire to get high and an annoyance when he wasn’t. It was better that way. Other emotions were painful, only reminded him what a failure he was, how much he lacked. Sean was far better off without him, it was best to let him realize these things now. Still, he could hear fear in Sean’s sobs and he didn’t need to be that cause of that. There were enough other reason for him to be afraid within these walls.

Feeling guilty he tried to move, tried to rearrange himself into a less horrifying position. His ribs screamed at him as he unfolded his legs, untwisted his body. He swore, the sudden pain almost whiting out his vision. Sean whimpered.

“‘m okay,” he tried to reassure the little boy but he looked far from it. His mother, still hovering nearby, tried to help him up but only made him cry out as her hand put pressure against his side. She nervously looked up at her husband, still watching this scene from the top of the stairs, dispassionate and unimpressed.

“We have to take him to the hospital,” she pleaded.

Aaron felt like he was going to be sick, the pain, once he became aware of it, was building. A pressure in his head made him certain he would throw up if the lights got any brighter so he squeezed his eyes closed.

“Do whatever you want, he’s not my problem.” His father turned away, slamming the door to the bedroom. The sound made everyone flinch.

“Can you get up?” his mother asked. Aaron inhaled deeply and instantly regretted it, the expansion of his lungs making his ribs creak. Instead of wasting air on an answer, he pushed off the bottom stair slowly, using the banister to pull himself upright. He was hunched over, unable to completely straighten out, panting in much shallower breaths.

“Okay, okay, let me just get my keys,” she brushed her fingers through his hair lightly. He only turned his face away from her, focusing all his energy on not falling down. He didn’t think he’d be able to get up a second time.

“Sean, go back to bed,” she directed. Sean whined, wanting to come along, to make sure his brother was going to be okay. But she wasn’t listening, she was already moving around the house, getting a coat and shoes, finding her purse. He came down the remaining steps to where Aaron was standing and leaned against his thigh.

Aaron gritted his teeth. “Don’t—just listen to mom, buddy. We’ll be back soon. Just go back to bed.”

Sean grabbed the fabric of his pants, shaking his head and rubbing his runny nose into Aaron’s leg in the process.

“Please, Sean,” Aaron whispered, trying to hold his temper but every movement was painful, was asking too much of ability to remain balanced on two feet. “I promise I’m ok, it was just an accident.”

Sean looked up at him, suspicious but also young enough to want to believe. He’d been told repeatedly since he could understand: always tell the truth. There was no reason to think adults played by different rules. Aaron tried to smile, unsure how successful he was.

“I’m okay,” he repeated, mostly for his own benefit.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” Sean asked.

Aaron rolled his eyes, wanting to say no but not wanting to extend the discussion further. “Sure, get it warm for me okay?”

Sean nodded reluctantly and turned, cautiously making his way up the stairs, never letting go of the railing, as if he too might find himself crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. As if it had really been an accident that they were all equally in danger of experiencing.

Once his mother had explained to the nurses how he had crashed his bike riding home in the dark, and he had numbly nodded along with the story, there was a flurry of activity around him. The doctor shined a sickeningly bright light into his pupils, palpated the sore places on his side, had him demonstrate that all his major joints were operational. They wrapped his broken ribs tightly and gave him an ice pack to hold against his throbbing temple. If anyone noticed the lack of abrasions consistent with road rash no one mentioned it. He was wearing long sleeves after all. The doctor talked to him sternly about the importance of wearing a helmet and told him how lucky he was to have only sustained such relatively minor injuries.

Aaron wasn’t listening, was just doing his best not to stare at the bottle in the doctor’s hand. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the label so he stared down at his hands instead, fingers twisting together nervously. He could only read half the words printed there, the other half obscured by the doctors age-spotted hand, but he was fairly certain he knew what it was. He tried to listen enough to nod when it was appropriate, mumbling an apology and promising to make better choices in the future.

“Now, you’re going to be in a bit of pain for the next couple weeks so I’m giving you a prescription for oxycodone. Have you ever taken that before?”

Aaron bit his lip and shook his head slightly, wincing as he felt his brain slosh from side to side. “No, sir, I haven’t.”

“Well, it’s pretty strong stuff so make sure you follow the instructions. Don’t take more than it says or you’ll find yourself feeling pretty sick; okay, son?”

Aaron fought the urge to say something rude, annoyed by the way the doctor was addressing him. He needed that bottle of pills though, this was no time to start picking fights. “Yessir,” he mumbled.

“Good boy,” the doctor patted his knee and looked over at his mother who was anxiously watching from a chair by the door. “You’ve got a very polite kid here Mrs. Hotchner, you must be raising him right.”

Aaron’s eyes were fixed on the bottle still in the doctor’s hand. He thought it would probably be a mistake to reach out and grab it but he was growing impatient. He could only sustain the model son act for so long, especially after the last few hours. He dropped his eyes when the doctor turned back to him.

“Here why don’t you take one of these now, it’ll help with the trip home no doubt.” He popped the cap off and grabbed Aaron’s hand, shaking one out into his palm while calling to a nurse to bring a cup of water.

Aaron stared at the pill, feeling excitement racing through his veins, finally he’d have control over his high. His hand shook a little and the doctor misread what he was seeing.

“Don’t worry, it will probably just make you a little sleepy. Nothing to be concerned about.” He held out a cup of water. Aaron popped the pill into his mouth before accepting, washing it down and feeling smug satisfaction wash through him as well. The doctor traded the cup for the bottle of pills and patted his knee again before leaving, wishing his mother a pleasant evening. When he was gone, Aaron and his mother’s eyes met. He could see she was hesitant about the pills and he wrapped his hand around the bottle tighter. No one was going to take this from him, he’d earned it as far as he was concerned.

She sighed, unwilling to argue about it right then. “Let’s go home, Aaron.”

He slid off the table to follow her, his steps only slightly faltering, buoyed by the key he now held.

It didn’t take long for Cole to find out about the pills. After Aaron didn’t show up at school for several days and, more alarmingly, didn’t turn up on Friday, he went to the Hotchner house looking for him. Though he knew where Aaron lived, he had never been there. No one was out front and he knew better than to ring the doorbell. Instead, he walked around the side and found him behind the house, stretched out on a bench, one arm dangling in the grass, the other covering his eyes.

“What the fuck?”

Aaron looked at him sleepily. “Huh?”

“Where have you been Hotchner?”

Aaron shrugged, sitting up warily. “I fell down.” He didn’t elaborate.

Cole snorted. “What are you even talking about?”

Aaron rubbed his nose, alleviating the ever-present itch on the tip of it.

“Do you know what day it is?”

All he got in response was a blank stare.

“Are you fucking high?” Cole sounded shocked, like he couldn’t believe Aaron would be capable of such a thing on his own. This needled Aaron’s pride, deeply annoyed by this persistent belief that he’d had no experience on his own, like he hadn’t figured things out for years without any help from Cole or anyone else. It was like Cole believed he was some innocent and, worse, he preferred Aaron in that role. Never questioning, always being led into things, as if he couldn’t make his own decisions. As if it wasn’t, in reality, Aaron seeking him out.

“What if I am?” he spat back. Cole had moved right in front of him so he stood up, disappointed that he was still several inches shorter.

“Are you stealing from me?” Cole’s voice was icy and sent an unwelcome flash of fear through Aaron. He tried to pretend it didn’t affect him, putting on a show of disinterest.

“Why would I? I don’t need your shit.”

“Liar,” Cole countered. “Where did you get it then?”

Aaron sank down on the bench again, he was too high to fight. He had been having a pleasant afternoon, everyone gone, just him and his pills and the sky. “The doctor,” he muttered, pulling the bottle from his pocket without thinking, “I cracked a couple ribs.”

Cole stared at him for a second, understanding passing between them, before snatching the bottle from Aaron.

“Hey!” He jumped up, furious. “Give that back.”

“What? I share with you all the time and you were just going to keep this to yourself? How’s that fair?”

Aaron faltered, caught by the logic of the argument, maybe he should have thought to share but the idea had never even crossed his mind. Still, they were his, he could do what he wanted, he was the one in pain after all. He tried a different tactic. “Please, I need them. It’s…it really does hurt.” He didn’t like to admit it, it made the high less enjoyable, tied it too closely to the nightmare in his home.

Cole’s eyes sparkled, he could tell he had the upper hand again, was back in the position he preferred. Irritated, Aaron tried to grab the bottle back but Cole was too fast, lifting his arm out of Aaron’s reach.

“Uh-uh, I think you need to learn a lesson about sharing.”

“Cole,” Aaron warned. This wasn’t a game to him. He could feel rage beginning to boil inside him.

Unaware, Cole laughed at him. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Furious and unthinking, Aaron shoved him hard with both hands, knocking him backwards. He tripped and landed on his back, the bottle slipping out of his hand as he tried to catch himself. Aaron breathed hard, the muscles in his side had pulled painfully at his broken ribs and the pain was making him see stars. Before he could recover, Cole was back on his feet and approaching him.

“They’re mine,” he said, as if that explained everything, as if that would fix the anger that had clouded Cole’s face. He took a couple steps back but he didn’t move fast enough. Cole swung his fist and it connected with Aaron’s jaw with a loud crack. He stumbled to the side, barely catching himself before he took another hit. His cheekbone burned with the impact, his ears were full of the brittle sound of his struggling lungs. His knees folded under him and he found himself on all fours in the dirt. He wheezed, trying to breathe around the pain in his ribs. Just out of reach he saw the prescription bottle and moved just enough to grab it. As soon as it was in his hand he scrambled to his feet, half bent over, free hand wrapped around his ribs. Cole watched him, anger fading but still not pleased with what he was seeing. Aaron probed his face, exploring the way his lip was swelling, the trace of blood running down his chin. He looked at Cole, betrayed.

“Fuck you,” he whispered, before turning and walking away, praying he wouldn’t be followed.

He didn’t know where he was going at first but found himself back at an old hiding place by the river. The tree with the tall roots that had cradled him so often when he would sneak away to make himself sick off his father’s alcohol. He sank down and, against his own wishes, cried. He hated himself more with every tear. He should never have trusted Cole in the first place. This situation was his own fault. How could he have believed someone cared about him? That someone wanted to spend time with him because they liked him as a person, not just a thing to get something from, a thing to be pushed around when he wouldn’t give them what they wanted. Now that thin illusion was broken and he had nothing left. He’d let this friendship, this experiment overtake everything else in his life. He’d pushed away what little he’d had to focus his energy on holding on to this, wrapping himself up in the high. The drug high, sure, but more than that, the high of attention and believing someone else understood him. But it had never been real and he should have known that.

He considered the bottle of painkillers, an idea floating up, whispering sweetly, promising a solution to the mistakes he’d let himself make. A way to erase the sting of realizing he was not and would never be anyone worth caring for. That would be the ultimate trick, one that no one would anticipate before it was too late. Carefully he poured out a handful. Took one. Took another. And another. He put a fourth one in his mouth but found he couldn’t make it go down. He held it there, tasting the bitterness as it began to dissolve. A wave of regret forced him to spit the pill out into his hand. Maybe today wasn’t the day, maybe he would just enjoy the high for now. He could always make that decision later, he had the means available. He leaned back and let the effect of the pills he’d swallowed pull him away from himself. Within moments he fell asleep, bottle clutched in one hand, the sticky pill, coated in dirt, in the other.

He was shaken awake roughly, someone calling his name. Trying to ignore it, he squeezed his eyes tightly, not wanting to wake up, to come up from the dark waters he’d been pleasantly floating in. Fingers snapped close to his ear and he flinched. Reluctantly he slit his eyes open. Cole was there.

“Leave me alone.” He tried to roll over, away from him. Cole pulled him back roughly.

“How many did you take Aaron?”

“What do you care?” His words were slurred, tongue lazy.

“Of course I fucking care,” Cole sounded exasperated and, though Aaron wasn’t sure he was interpreting the emotion correctly, worried. Finally he opened his eyes all the way to glare at the other boy, sullen. He licked his lips where he could still taste blood. Cole reached to touch his face and Aaron recoiled hard, hitting his head on the tree trunk. He yelped, the pain ricocheting through his skull. Cole’s hand still hung in the air between them. He looked disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low.

Surprised, Aaron looked at him again. This time he remained still, let Cole touch his face, touch the bruises, run his finger over the dried blood in the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t mean to.”

They were very close now, so close Aaron could feel Cole’s exhale as he spoke travel across his cheeks. He held his breath and clenched his fists, crushing the partially dissolved pill still in his palm. Vaguely he noticed his other hand was empty. Just as he was about to look for the bottle, eyes darting to the ground, he felt Cole’s lips, pressed against his mouth. Shocked, he tried to make sense of everything, of how close he was, of the warmth, of the way the pressure caused the edges of his teeth to cut into his skin.

Cole pulled back, seeming to be as surprised as Aaron felt. They were frozen, tension holding them in place. Before he could form a complete thought about it, Aaron grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him back, crashing against each other. The tension shattered into an angry, clumsy struggle, all teeth and crushed noses. Cole was pulled off balance and knelt, one hand braced on the tree above Aaron’s head, one hand around the back of his neck. Aaron’s hands, gritty with dirt, wrapped in his shirt, holding on desperately, afraid Cole would leave the moment he let go. The kissing was rough and it made the bruise on his jaw ache, his broken ribs burn, but he needed this. Far more than he wanted to admit, he needed someone else’s touch to prove he was wanted, that he belonged. And for that kind of reassurance, he’d accept any touch at all.

chapter six

#criminal minds fanfiction #tw substances #tw abuse #tw vomit #tw suicidal thoughts #aaron hotchner #young hotch #a mixed blessing

18 notes · View notes

icedthoma · 4 years

Text

friendly competition

--Since you seem to like chapstick so much... maybe have a reader and Bakugou and neither of them know what the chapstick game is so the bakusquad ropes them into playing it before they know what the rules are?

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Notes: thiS IS THE LAST CHAPSTICK POST I SWEAR HSSBDKJS DON’T COME AT ME T-T (it’s just writing kisses is rlly fun ight ok ill shut up now)

“This is stupid.”

“You know, for once I find myself agreeing with you.”

“For once? What are you talking about, idiot? I’m always right.”

“Yeah? I saw your red kahoot screen the other day, don’t even try to lie.”

Mina slid in between you and Bakugou, who’s hands were beginning to spark at your nonchalant attitude. “Let’s all calm down before someone gets sent to the hospital."

Huffing, you folded your arms and jerked your head away, plopping down to sit cross-legged on the common area’s floor. “Whatever. That doesn’t change the fact that little Rat-suki over here is being a whiny brat, as always.”

“What did you say? I’m going to--”

Kirishima yanked Bakugou back as he attempted to lunge toward you with palms blazing. “Come on, man. We’re all here to have fun!”

“Don’t even know why I came to this stupid thing anyway,” Katsuki hissed as he reluctantly sat down on the couch farthest from you.

“What’s the game?” you sighed, just wanting to get it over with. You’d go along with their antics to make them happy and leave you alone for the next couple hours, where you could catch some must needed rest.

Ashido beamed at your question, and flung a plastic grocery bag out from behind her back, holding it high in the air like it was some sort of trophy. “The chapstick game!”

“What’s that?” you and Bakugou said in unison, then immediately glared at each other from across the room.

“I asked first, you overrated extra.”

“Actually, we asked at the same time, you stupid blond hedgehog. No wonder you were never in band, you can’t count.”

Kirishima was prepared and once again held Bakugou in his seat before he exploded you to pieces. He resorted to flipping you off from his hunched position on the couch.

“Gremlin,” you mouthed back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“As I was saying, we’re playing the chapstick game,” Mina continued. “I will act as judge, of course.”

“Hey, Bakugou! I think you’d be great at this!” Kaminari teased, slinging an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “You’re good at cooking, so you should be able to tell these flavors apart in a heartbeat!”

“Y/n’s a pretty good cook too, you know,” Jirou piped up from Kaminari’s other side. “I think she could give Bakuboy a run for his money.”

You grinned at your friend’s support, staring smugly at where Bakugou was trying to burn holes into your forehead with the power of his glare alone. “Oh yeah? I think so, too.”

“Well, we won’t find out unless we play, huh?” Ashido yelled, finally losing her patience with all the interruptions. “I blew a quarter of my allowance on these, so we’re putting it to use or else.”

“That’s not very good money management.”

“Shut up, Denki!”

“Psh, fine. I’ll play along with your dumb game,” Bakugou scoffed, squinting at you while jerking his thumb towards the floor. “But you’re going down, you hear me?”

“I’ll make you eat your words like it’s your inferior cooking.” Walking over to where Mina was holding the bag of chapstick at you, you took a random one and looked at its label. Strawberry. “Wait, so what do I do with this again?”

“Put it on!” Kaminari urged you, and you did so.

“But I already looked at the label, so I know what flavor it is.”

“You’re not the one guessing, silly!” Uraraka piped up, looking pointedly at where Bakugou was still perched atop the common room couch.

“How is he going to...” you trailed off as the realization hit you. “No.”

“Absolutely no way,” Bakugou growled, coming to the same conclusion as you. “I’m heading out.”

“If you don’t play, you forfeit and Y/n wins by default,” Ashido called after his retreating back. He froze, hands twitching but not sparking yet, clearly torn between his desire to beat you in every competitive way possible and his distaste for games like this.

“It’s fine, Mina,” you laughed, waving your pink friend off. “I think I’ll take this free win. I’m sure Bakugou agrees.”

“Oh, no way in hell,” was all you heard before Katsuki whirled around and stormed back towards you.

“Wait--hold on--what are you--” you managed to stammer out before he grabbed your face in both hands and kissed you, right in front of all your friends.

You were barely aware of someone saying, “Oh my God he actually did it, someone get the camera right now--” followed by several other shouts of the sort, but it had all been lost in the background to your shock that Bakugou had indeed, done it. Your eyes were wide in surprise as you took in his face scrunched up in concentration, lips brushing against yours with a softness you never would have expected from him. His palms were rough and calloused and warm against your cheeks, and you couldn’t believe that these hands, the ones that were holding your face so gently like you were made of glass, were the same ones that had tried to blow you to smithereens on multiple occasions.

Once you had gotten over the initial shock and got used to Bakugou being so close to you, you then felt kind of awkward. Where were you supposed to put your hands? On his shoulders? Behind his neck? Was that too intimate for a simple game?

Just as you started having these frantic thoughts that made you extremely self conscious as to the way the two of you looked to the rest of your friends, Katsuki exhaled sharply and pulled away, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt much to your annoyance. The cool air conditioning was such a contrast to his warm body, that for a second you found yourself wishing he’d come back.

“Strawberry,” he said, an insufferable smirk plastered on those lips you hated, those lips you wanted to come back to you more than anything.

“Y-yeah,” Ashido murmured, gaze darting around to the rest of your friends in the room, as to confirm that she wasn’t the only one who saw that, right? “You got it.”

“Tch.”

You frowned down at the strawberry chapstick that had been in your hand the entire time, Bakugou getting slapped on the back by Kaminari in the corner of your vision. The thing was, you could tell from the moment you held the stick to your face that it was strawberry. The smell was potent enough that he should have been able to tell as soon as he got within smooching distance. But he had kissed you anyway.

You didn’t have the time to dwell upon this enigma, as Bakugou was snatching a new stick from the bag and swiping it across his mouth, shoving it into his pocket once he was done. “Well?” he barked. “Do you need an invitation?”

Rolling your eyes, you went up to him, steeling your nerves with determination. He raised an eyebrow skeptically as you paused in front of him, wondering how you were going to reach him from your lack of height. He certainly wasn’t going to bend down to your level himself. Deciding to throw all caution to the wind, you sighed and grabbed his shoulder with one hand and the back of his head with the other, yanking him down to crash his mouth onto yours.

Unlike his kiss, yours was anything but soft. You kissed him because you knew he wasn’t made of glass, you kissed him to win, your eyes open and narrowed as you ran your tongue along his bottom lip, noticing how he tensed up when you did so. His crimson eyes stared a challenge into yours, just daring you to lose to him. You coudn’t smell anything relatively fruity, so you ruled a whole bunch of flavors off the list. Your tongue had come away from his mouth cool, a stark contrast from his generally warm skin. Which led the only option to be...

“Mint,” you said, ripping your mouth off of his and placing your hands on your hips defiantly.

“Spearmint, actually,” Bakugou snarked, tossing the stick up and down in the air.

“I say it counts!” Ashido exclaimed, quieting down at the end to murmur, “And who knew Y/n could kiss like that?”

"Hurry it up,” Kaminari complained, bouncing up and down on the couch impatiently. “I want to play it with Jirou.”

“In your dreams.”

“We’re literally dating, what are you talking about--”

“What are you all doing still up?” Iida yelled, appearing at the front of the room and silencing all of you in an instant. “People are trying to sleep, and you all are making such a racket downstairs. I implore you to stop at once.”

“...that’s our cue to leave,” Mina whispered, grabbing the bag and running upstairs followed by Kirishima and the rest of your friends, leaving you, Bakugou, and Iida alone. Iida sighed and stumbled off towards the kitchen, mumbling something about just wanting to get some water.

It suddenly became so quiet you swore you could hear crickets chirping like they did in cartoons.

You snuck a glance at Bakugou out of the corner of your eye, only to find him doing the same thing. The two of you jumped in surprise as you caught each other staring, and you quickly averted your gaze to the floor.

“Listen, about earlier.”

You looked up to see Katsuki rubbing the back of his neck, his face uncharacteristically tinged with red.

“Yeah?”

“That didn’t have to mean anything, okay? It was just a stupid game, so don’t think too much about it, or--”

“We never found out who won, you know.”

“I would have won anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“You had an easy one, okay? You could tell by the smell alone, meanwhile I actually had to try.”

“Oh yeah?”

You knew you really had no reason to be provoking him like this. Literally none. So why were you continuing to do so?

“Whatever, it’s just some friendly competition,” you said, flicking your finger against his chest and turning away. However, he caught your wrist before you could fully pull away.

“Are we?”

“Are we what?”

“Friends.”

You searched his face curiously, but there was no malice or anger in his expression. You couldn’t tell what he was feeling right now, and that bothered you. Friends...maybe yesterday, that was what could describe you two.

But something had changed, and there was a shift between you that you weren’t sure was good or bad. Maybe it started when Bakugou agreed to the game in the first place. Maybe it was when he held his lips against yours longer than necessary. Maybe it was when you yanked him down to your level and kissed him until your lips bruised.

Not quite friends...but not entirely more...

“Sure,” you forced yourself to say, brushing an invisible lock of hair behind your ear and sliding your hand out of his grasp, which you found odd because he literally could have just let go and save you the experience of brushing your fingers over his for a split second. “Of course. Idiot. Anyway, isn’t it past your bed time?”

“Tch. See you later, loser.”

Both insults lacked venom, and you both knew it. As you walked up the stairs, Bakugou a few steps in front of you, you fisted the stupid strawberry chapstick tightly in your hand, the only thing you had linking you to that moment.

The moment everything changed.

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justice4harwin · 3 years

Text

Light’s Corruption-Chapter X

Summary: With few friends at the Little Palace, Alina must work to win the favour of her fellow grisha and their commander, who makes her feel light headed every time she sees him.

After training in Os Alta for two years, the king grows tired of waiting and demands the Sun Summoner joins a western post near the Fjerdan border along with the rest of The Second Army to test her abilities.

Something happens. Suddenly, Alina wants blood to run down the rivers and those who stand in her and The Darkling’s way will be blinded by her light and swallowed by his shadows.

It won’t be pretty.

Pairing: The DarklingxAlina

Rating: 18+

As usual, the tags are in the comments; if you no longer want to be in the list or wanna be added, please don’t hesitate to let me know :)

Click here for chapter 9 in case you missed it :)

Chapter 10: I haven't met the new me yet

"Again!"

Maybe this wasn’t just training; maybe he was punishing her for her demonstration at the Fete. He had said nothing about the event during the last few days, but Alina knew, somehow, that it was on his mind, and she was nervously waiting for the grenade to go off.

Alina heaved a breath, calling her light and pushing against The Darkling's shadows, but it was to no avail. She couldn't fend them off.

She had her questions, but was a bit afraid to ask. He seemed rather…cold, that particular morning, but she dismissed it as being pissed at the waste of time the Winter Fete was.

"I can't." she struggled to get the words out.

"Do you know what your problem is?" he asked. She couldn't see him, and his voice seemed to be coming from everywhere, as if the shadows themselves were talking. Oddly, this didn't scare her at all.

"What?"

"You do not fully understand light."

Alina snorted.

"I call it and then I lit or melt things. That's it."

"I am disappointed, Miss Starkov." his cool voice made her heart shrink. She didn't want to disappoint him.

"I am an idiot."

"Alright. Enlighten me, then." she said.

He didn't seem to catch the joke, or maybe he just didn't find it funny.

"A real idiot."

"When you light up a lantern, what do you have?"

"Is this one of those instances where the question is so obvious, I'm not even supposed to answer."

"Tragically, no."

She huffed.

"You get light."

"Right. And what does that light casts?"

Alina didn't even have to think about it.

"Shadows."

"Correct. So, that means-"

"I've been trying to destroy your shadows instead of pushing them away?"

"You could destroy them, but let us leave it at pushing for now, yes."

"Oh! I think I get it now."

She closed her eyes -even though it made no difference in the infinite darkness he had casted-, and summoned.

Slowly, she pushed her light to meet, not fight, the shadows, and gently ushered them back, little by little.

When she was done, she could see a giant orb of black and gold around them. Just like the rose he had given her a few months prior.

Alina looked at Kirigan, and something akin to pride shone in his eyes for a moment before it turned off into nothing.

"Good. Again."

Their world went dark once more, but this time, Alina was more excited about it.

Later that day, Alina shyly sat at the Corporalki table next to Nina. She wasn't sure if the woman was expecting something from her after the events of the previous night, but when she smiled and leaned in to kiss Alina's cheek, she felt herself relax.

She looked over at the Fabrikator's table and frowned.

"Do any of you know where Lada is?" she asked, taking a bite of their awful breakfast. Really, even in Keramzin, with so many mouths to feed, the kitchen staff managed to produce much better things than herring and rye. "I've been wanting to talk to her about those new keftas she's working on."

"She left to go visit her grandmother." Fedyor answered, covering his mouth to speak. "She's ill, I think, and The General gave her permission to go say her goodbyes."

"Oh, that's so sad." she said, sincerely.

"She should've been back a few days ago." Michail added, the only one who seemed to enjoy their meal. "The General will send a party to go find her if she doesn't show up soon."

Nina shifted in her seat and took another bite.

"Do you think something happened to her?" Alina asked, almost concerned for this woman she barely knew. She was Grisha as well after all.

"Maybe." Michail shrugged. "Drüskelle, Shu Han agents, desertion, slavers-"

"Desertion?" Alina asked in disbelief. "From The Second Army?"

Fedyor and Michail moved uneasily in their seats.

"It rarely happens." Fedyor said in a hushed voice. "And The General doesn't like to talk about it. He does it when he has to but…"

Alina nodded, storing the information away.

Desertion from the First Army she could understand. They lacked plenty of things and life was tough in pretty much all the senses life could be. Many times soldiers would go to bed with a half empty stomach, scooting together with a group in an effort to fend off the cold. Many times, Alina would hear them waking up from nightmares with screams that would make a volcra shrink, or seen them in pieces as she passed by the infirmary.

The Second Army however, faced almost none of those complications. They lost soldiers, and a few soldiers even lost a limb or two, but they were well taken care of at the Little Palace; The General always seemed to find something new they could do to occupy their minds. Sure, Alina was learning the game of court, but she'd rather risk her neck behind the Little Palace's walls than risk being taken by the enemy, which desertion would leave you vulnerable to.

"I'm sure she's fine." Nina dismissed with a wave of her hand. "She's never been exactly punctual. And if you want to discuss the keftas, you can always go to David or Dima; they've had a part in the process as far as I know."

Alina settled for that answer.

She would speak to David. She had to talk to him anyways. Genya had delivered the gloves made by him which she rejected, and she wanted to make sure he wasn't offended. Besides, maybe, just maybe, she could help her friend gain some ground with him.

Still, as she ate her breakfast in relative peace, the thought of Lada not appearing at the Little Palace unnerved her. They weren't friends, and maybe she didn't truly have a reason to care at all besides being Grisha like her. Still, something didn't sit right with her.

"Six languages?!" Alina asked Nina as they shared some tea, leaning over the table.

The Heartrender shrugged, her legs resting on the Summoner's lap.

"Yup." was all she said as she took a sip and placed the cup on the carpeted floor.

They were sitting by the fire, and they had been talking most of the early afternoon away. Well, …there had been a little bit more than talking from their mouths, but Alina wasn't duelling on that at the moment, too amazed by the woman sitting next to her.

A few days had passed in a similar manner. Genya was too busy at the Grand Palace to come over, and between her sessions with Botkin and The Darkling, Nina took her chances to spend all the time she could with Alina. The Sun Summoner found herself beginning to form an attachment to the woman, and she was…content.

"H-how?"

"Part of the job." Nina shrugged.

She bit her lip. "Will I be expected to learn six languages?"

"Probably."

At this, she began to feel her nerves stirring. Nina seemed to sense it.

"I can teach you a little if you want."

"Would you mind?" Alina asked almost too quickly.

Nina smiled. Alina wanted to lean in and kiss her again, but there had been more than enough distraction already from the Heartrender's attributes.

Or had it not?

"Of course not." crossing her arms over her chest, the brunette woman began to ponder. "I'm thinking either shu or fjerdan, for obvious reasons." she said, a finger running under her chin. "But I think fjerdan will be the best choice. Their way of writing is not that much different from ours; the shu language it's much more intricate in that aspect… and every other one."

"Saints." Alina uttered under her breath.

"Oh, no. It's a beautiful language, just hard to learn."

"Good to know." was her dry reply. She sat straight. "So, how do you say 'Grisha' in fjerdan?"

"Drüsje." Nina said, sourly. "It means 'witch'. 'Wej' if they're nice about it, which doesn't happen a lot."

The mood seemed to dim a little.

"Maybe we should've started with something simpler," Alina tried to cheer her up. "Like, 'hello' or 'please, no more waffles'."

"I'll never teach you to say that second one." Nina replied, her voice smooth and fast, making the Sun Summoner laugh.

"He wants you to go riding with him." Genya said promptly, walking in without knocking. She stopped dead in her tracks upon the sight before her, but her face gave indication of nothing.

"Hi, Genya."

"Nina."

The women smiled at each other, and Alina couldn't help but bitterly notice that Nina was one of the few Grisha who didn't look at Genya with disdain.

She smiled. Nina kept on gaining points.

The woman stood up, as did Alina, and eyed the outfit the Tailor held in her arms with one raised eyebrow.

"Well, sun bean, you don't wanna keep Kirigan waiting." she breathed out, coming over and planting a loud kiss upon Alina's lips.

Alina felt herself blush under the presence of Genya, but returned the kiss and gently cupped Nina's cheeks.

When they parted, her heart was beating fast. The Heartrender winked at her.

"See you later, Alina." she nodded to the waiting friend behind her. "Genya."

"Bye."

The woman left, and ever so slowly, Alina turned to find Genya staring at her with worry in her eyes.

"What?" she asked, exasperated. "Nina isn't up to your standards?"

Genya almost smiled, placing the clothes on top of the bed.

"It's not that." she said, fumbling with the fabric. "Just…be careful. For both of your sakes."

Alina was about to refute, but then Genya looked up, blue eyes so full of concern that she took a step back as the words died in her throat.

She didn't question her further and let her friend work on her silently.

"What do you see?" Kirigan asked as they leaned over a forgotten fountain. The gardeners had clearly disregarded the place, but Alina found that she liked it the way it was. It seemed more natural than the beautifully perfect maze and flower roads.

"A version of me." Alina tilted her head, watching the water oscillate as the coin sunk in. "A new one. But she's kind of blurry."

"Maybe she is still taking form." The General answered, pulling some branches off of the water and throwing them aside. "One cannot change from one day to the other…most of the time, anyways."

Was he making a joke? Alina wondered, trying to supress her smile.

She turned, elbows on the stone as she watched the snowy picture. It wasn't much, but its wild simplicity appeased her.

"Did you bring me here to berate me?" the question had been on her mind ever since Genya helped her into her blue and gold riding habit and boots. He had said nothing about the matter during the past few days while he trained her, but she had been expecting it at some point.

"Berate you?" he asked, turning towards her, his face questioning.

"About the Fete." Alina offered as an explanation. "I know you were expecting a different type of demonstration, and gloves, and a black kefta but I-"

"Allow me to interrupt you, please." he requested, to which Alina sheepishly nodded. "I did wonder why you would reject such things and suppress your power that night, but after what you told me once the presentation finished…I understood." he said, the last two words solemn as he looked her in the eye. "I must congratulate you, Alina. You truly are a fast learner."

She couldn't help but beam at his praise, heart thundering inside its ribcage, something warm blossoming on her stomach, an odd sensation pulling her towards him, so strong she almost closed the space in between and embraced him, burying her face in his chest.

Had she done a demonstration that was up to her level, the stupid king would make a stupid decision; had she used gloves, the nobility would think her weak. Concerning the black kefta, as much as it was a sign of power and protection, it was also a target, one she didn't want on her back yet. Besides, she didn't think she deserved to wear Kirigan's colour; she wasn't up to his level for now and doing the small show she offered while wearing his colour might slander his name and thereof all the other Grisha.

Blue it was for now, until she felt secure enough of both her powers and station.

"Thank you." she answered, her voice a mere whisper. "I meant it, you know."

"What?"

"When I said I wanted to help you;" he opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "It's true, what you said to me. There's no one else like us, so it would only make sense to share some duties, have each other's backs …if you don't mind, that is." she added the last part quickly, feeling how she was about to lose her nerve. "It could make things less lonely."

General Kirigan watched her closely, head barely tilted to a side, and finally nodded.

"I think that is a good idea, Alina." he then did something she had never seen him do before, and smiled. It was small, and if she didn't know better, she'd say it was tentative. Her heart made a strange jump at the sight, and her cheeks threatened to gain colour but she pushed the feeling away. S

Saints damned that man.

His eyes returned to the waters, so hers followed the same path. "Look. Not so blurry anymore."

Alina looked down, and sure, although the water still undulated, her reflection was slightly clearer.

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone trilogy #grishaverse #shadow and bone fanfic #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the darkling #aleksander morozova | the darkling #darklina #alina x the darkling #alina x aleksander #nina zenik #Genya Safin #original characters #fedyor kaminsky #au shadow and bone

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attack-on-kiwi · 3 years

Note

It's so cool seeing a AOT imagines blog since I don't know of many people in the fandom!

I saw this post on one of your other writing blogs and was so happy to meet another AOT fan!

Anyway I was hoping I could request headcanons of Erwin with a S/O who helps him after his injury?

Well, now you know me! It’s very on brand of me for my first request to be about Erwin, haha. Thanks, and hope you enjoy!

Erwin Smith:

Somehow, through the chaos, you’re informed that Erwin was rushed into the medical barracks for emergency treatment. As his partner, you need to steel yourself, since one of the conditions that allowed him to even consider being with you was to be prepared for anything in the field that may result in harm to him.

There isn’t much you can do, since he’s declared to be in a coma. You spend what time you have sitting beside him and helping to manage his fever. It’s hard to watch him mumble incoherently, obviously distraught from what you can tell must be an endless nightmare. You can hear him mumble what seem to be names or curses.

You can’t do much for him, but you do take his remaining hand and stroke it to help soothe him. It’s not clear whether this helps at all, but your own anxieties are somewhat soothed by clasping his clammy palm.

The entire week that he’s in his comatose state is the longest you’ve ever experienced. By the last few days, his fever has reduced, and he’s stopped speaking in his sleep. He’s more responsive, and when you take his hand for the evening, you swear he’s weakly clasping back. The simple notion that he is registering someone near him and holding onto them is enough justification for you to stay longer than you normally do and to paint sweet nothings to him.

It’s the middle of the night when he wakes up. You’re beside him, reluctantly nodding off. Your only signal that he’s regained consciousness is hearing him dryly mumble “What’s going on?”

You’re trying not to be frantic as you make a call for the doctor and get him some water.

Unsurprisingly, Erwin decides its back to business as soon as he’s awake and coherent. He does have to rest for the night, and you stay with him, trying to help him in any way.

However, how are you supposed to help someone who has such a reckless disinterest in their own wellbeing? You only have about a week to take care of him before he’s arrested. How do you look after him when he’s so hell bent on his mission?

The most you can do is help clean his wound and make sure he takes his medicine so that he doesn’t contract another illness. He’s not going to be bedridden and if you try to coax him, you will be met with adversity.

Erwin will be on edge, and though he won’t snap at you, he will be more firm and unrelenting of his work.

You might be able to unwind him with a sneaky massage- one that will take meticulous execution to work, because if he sees you coming, he’s going to tell you he’s fine and that he’ll see you in bed.

When things have calmed down some, he will be more open to letting you care for him. He may make light of the injury as you clean it: “Not exactly what you signed up for, is it?”

He does have moments of severe phantom pains that can all but paralyze him, and you’re the one he will begrudgingly seek out when he’s having an episode. He breaks out into a short fever and is at risk of passing out. Just having you tend to him and comfort him in those instances eases the pressure on his shoulders phenomenally. It may be that during these episodes, he will tenderly apologize for his behavior, letting you know that you always have an out and that you aren’t obligated to be with him.

The stubborn man will finally crack just a bit and let you fantasize of a life together. You can gingerly stroke the now almost healed stump while talking about how you want to teach him how to cook a certain dish or reminisce some distant memories. He won’t add to it, not because he doesn’t want that future, but because he knows he won’t have that future.

So, Erwin will let you soothe your anxieties while you adjust to this change in your lives and hopefully, he’ll be able to see you once all is said and done.

#erwin smith #erwin smith x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan headcanons #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin imagines #shingeki no kyojin headcanons

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zukosdumbbitch · 4 years

Text

flashbacks

work on ao3

pairing: zuko/gn reader

warnings: panic/anxiety attack

wordcount: 1076

a/n: whoops i wrote a therapy fic :o ANYWAY ive been having a terrible time which is why i havent been writing anything oops!! ill have part 2 of fire isnt just destruction posted soon i promise srry for the wait BTW this takes place during book 3 while the gaang is at ember island

You wished your body wouldn't do this to you - but it did.

You trembled, biting back tears. You felt cold and alone, dozens of bad memories flooding your thoughts all at once. You took a shaky breath in an attempt to calm down, but it didn't work.

Suddenly, you heaved, a choked sob escaping your throat. You couldn't hold it in anymore. You writhed in your sheets, clawing at the fabric as tears streamed down your face. You tried to be quiet despite your borderline delirious state, you didn't want to wake anyone up -

Zuko threw your door open, sword in hand as he flicked his wrist at the candles and lanterns to light up the room.

You flinched back violently and sucked in a hard, quick breath in your surprise. You made eye-contact with Zuko before burying your face in your hands and sobbing harder. The last thing you had needed was a jump scare.

You heard Zuko's sword scatter to the floor. "Y/N!" He gasped and carefully crawled across your bed. He had thought someone broke in and attacked you. He awoke immediately to your crying - he was an extremely light sleeper. Always had been since his mother disappeared.

Zuko pulled you into his arms and you wasted no time clutching onto him. You buried your wet face into the thin material of the undershirt he wore to bed. He surveyed you for a moment before deciding that you weren't physically hurt. "What's wrong? Did something happen?" He asked softly, pulling you further into his chest as your sobs shook you.

You dragged your face across his shirt to try and dry your sticky cheeks. You tried to be present, feel Zuko's arms around you, the comforting way he rubbed your bicep. You pulled away slightly and sniffed, swallowing the mucus and ultimately coughing. Zuko patted your back. "I - " You tried to speak, voice weak and broken. "Really bad nightmare." You desperately sought out words that would summarize your state as succinctly as possible. "Flashbacks." You squeaked. The word itself brought a traumatizing event back to the forefront of your mind and whatever semblance of calm you managed to choke out your response was gone.

Zuko hugged you tight and your arms came around his neck so you could borrow into his throat. "It's okay." His warm hands stroked your upper back. "You don't have to talk about it."

You cried, your tears cooling the hot skin of Zuko’s neck. “It’s all too much.” You croaked. The flashbacks, the war, how you suddenly remembered your present responsibility as the Avatar’s allies - you were overwhelmed. You shook uncontrollably.

Zuko was utterly heartbroken at your state. He knew how you felt, in his own way. How helpless and scared these fits made one feel. Panic attacks are what his uncle called them. He tried to remember how his uncle would comfort him; Zuko had started to block out memories of his panic attacks once they stopped happening regularly. “It’s okay, you’re safe.” He whispered. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” He rocked you gently.

You took in his words, taking a deep breath. They made you feel warm inside, less alone and empty, but your thoughts were still difficult to control.

“Breathe with me.” Zuko said, pulling away to look down at you. You wanted to hide your face, you knew you were a complete and utter mess, but the genuine look in Zuko’s eyes made you nod your head.

Zuko slowly breathed in through his nose and you mimicked him through your trembling. You wiped your face with your forearm and released your breath when Zuko breathed out. He continued to coach you through your sniffling and hiccups and sobs and your head slowly started to clear.

You launched yourself back into Zuko’s arms. He thought for a moment he had done something wrong until you spoke. “You’re so sweet. No one’s ever done that for me.” You said weakly, voice still teary.

His arms came back around you. “Of course.” Panic attacks were hard. He never thought for a second to make someone suffer through one alone.

You pulled back and continued to dry your face. Zuko scrambled for a handkerchief and presented it to you. “Thanks.” You said simply before blowing your nose. Your eyes were sore and your sinuses felt stuffed. You made a mental note to stop rubbing your eyelids. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled suddenly.

Zuko looked shocked. “For what?”

“For waking you up and crying all over you.” You answered meekly.

“Don’t be. I thought you were in danger. And I’d never leave you alone while you’re hurting. I’ll always be here for you.”

His words struck you more strongly than you’d anticipated. You started sobbing again, but this time because you’d never felt so cared for.

Zuko held you again, worried. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?”

“No!” You squeaked through tears. “You’re just so nice it actually made me cry.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

You shook your head, giggling at his response.

Zuko continued to rub your back. “I’m your friend. I’m here when you need it.”

“You’re a really good friend.” You replied, giving him a small smile. He smiled back.

Suddenly, your fatigue hit you. You wanted nothing more than to be back asleep. However, the thought of having to do that alone disturbed you. You had just barely recovered from a panic attack, after all. “Would you stay here with me? For the night?” You looked at Zuko and became uncertain of your request. “I - I mean you don’t have to, especially after everything you’ve done -”

“Of course I’ll stay with you.” Zuko cut off your stammering. He brushed some hair from your forehand and out of your eyes. He smiled.

You smiled stupidly back and nodded. “Okay.” You began to get back into your sheets and move over to give Zuko room when you noticed he started to leave the bed. “No, you can sleep on the bed.”

Zuko turned to look at you. “You sure?”

“Mhm.” You hummed.

You sunk down into the pillows and watched Zuko settle down next to you and motion to snuff out the lanterns. You rolled on your side to face him and held out your arms. To your delight, Zuko gave you an awkward smile and pulled you into his chest. He held you tight, he never wanted you to feel unsafe again.

“G’night.” You mumbled into his chest.

“Good night.”

#zuko x reader #zuko fanfiction #zuko fluff #zuko imagine #angst #fluff #gn reader #nyx writes #mine #fic

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lightsupinthenorth · 4 years

Text

Harringrove teachers AU part 3

Part 1 - Part 2

Thank you to everyone who read, liked and/or reblogged the previous parts. Also, the people who said something nice in the tags or in reactions own my heart. Just thought you should know ;) <3

Tag list: @twoprettyboys, @inkedplume, @marianaosborne, @liglitterbug, @hmg621 @spreckle @goldenweatherharringrove @yikesharringrove @yogurtfordinner @wingedbears @charlotte-frey @hargrovesharrington

If anyone wants to be added to or taken off the tag list for the future posts of this AU, let me know ;)

I hope the tags are working because I recently had some trouble with them (ah, Tumblr is a mess).

I was planning on keeping the chapters short but every part has been longer than the last so far ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (then again, it’s still pretty short so I guess it’s fine ^^).

I’ll stop rambling now.

Billy didn’t know how he had ended up in this situation, this situation being Steve and he making out in the otherwise empty teachers’ lounge, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He wanted to keep Steve’s soft lips on his forever. Sadly, he didn’t get his way: there was a loud bang, and suddenly Steve’s lips were gone. Steve was gone too, as well as the teachers’ lounge. Billy woke up at home, in his bed, hard as a rock in the basket-ball shorts he was wearing as pajamas.

Great, he got an erection just from dreaming he and Steve were kissing. What was he? A teenager? That was pathetic.

Billy was considering rubbing one out, despite the embarrassment, but there was another loud bang that made him remember why he had woken up in the first place.

What the fuck was happening this early on a Saturday?

Billy instantly worried Max had fallen or, worse, that someone had broken into the flat and would hurt her (highly improbable in such a small town, but Billy wasn’t alert enough to be logical). The concern killed his arousal in two seconds tops. He shot up from bed and exited his bedroom in a hurry.

He found Max in their open kitchen, mixing what appeared to be pancakes ingredients.

“What was that noise?” He asked, in lieu of a greeting.

“I dropped the pan. Sorry.”

“There were two noises.”

“I dropped the mixing bowl too. Let me live! It’s your fault, you stored both these things on the highest shelf” Max complained.

“Hey, no need for a defense, I’m not accusing you. I was just worried, shitbird.”

“Oh… well, I’m okay.”

“And you’re making pancakes, so I’m certainly not going to complain.” Billy added.

“Who told you I was making some for you?”

Billy pouted, even though he knew Max was bluffing. He could see the amount of batter in the mixing bowl. She had quite an appetite, but there was no way she’d be able to eat all of that on her own.

“So mean, so early in the morning.”

“What can I say, I love messing with you.”

Paradoxically, Billy was happy that she did. When they had first met, he’d been a perpetually angry teenager, and teeny tiny Max had done everything she could to stay out of his way. Once Susan had announced she was ill, though, Billy had tried his hardest to be the brother Max deserved. After Susan’s death, Billy had looked after Max and kept her safe from his father until he had turned legal. He had then fought to get Max away from Neil and had obtained full custody of her.

It had been hard to balance getting his degree, working part-time jobs, and taking care of Max. Even more so with Neil trying to steer trouble every now and again. But they had made it out alright, in the hand, and Billy didn’t regret a second of it.

“Sit your ass down.” Max said as she turned the stove on.

“Oh no, no way. You ‘sit your ass down’. I’ll take it from here.”

Max was good at finding the best recipes and at mixing ingredients, but the cooking process was another thing entirely: she had nearly burned the kitchen down almost every time she had tried using the oven or the stove. Her cooking privileges had been revoked after the fifth time.

“Ugh, fine.”

Billy had two plates full on pancakes in no time. He put one in front of Max and went to sit down with his own on the other side of the table. The second his ass touched his chair, Max asked:

“So, you have plans with Steve and Robin this afternoon?”

Billy frowned.

“First of all, it’s Mrs. Buckley and Mr. Harrington for you”, he started, just to get on her nerves (he didn’t give a fuck how she called her teachers), “and second, how do you know that?”

Max arched an eyebrow.

“You literally talked about it with Steve right in front of me yesterday”, she said, ignoring Billy’s reprimand (no surprise, there).

“Oh… right… I did.”

Truthfully, Billy had stopped paying attention to Max and El the second he had laid eyes on Steve and the dumb spot of blue paint that had been resting on his cheek as if it had any right to.

“So, what are you guys going to do?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re going to grade papers.”

“Well, that’s exciting.”

Her sarcasm was off the charts.

“Tell me about it”, Billy mumbled, around a mouthful of pancake.

“Ew, gross.”

Billy stuffed even more pancake into his mouth, in defiance, before he spoke again:

“So, Art club, uh? What’s up with that?”

They hadn’t had an opportunity to talk about it the day before, because Friday night was movie night, and they had eaten dinner in front of the tv. Plus, Billy would have been too distracted to hold a conversation (Steve hadn’t left his mind).

“Steve said I should come. He noticed I haven’t been speaking to a lot of people, and he said it might help to do an activity in a smaller group…” Max wasn’t looking at Billy as she explained.

“Anyway, I think he was right. He’s the best!” She beamed as she said it, finally looking up from her slowly but surely diminishing pile of pancakes.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

Billy was glad, really. He was also a bit frustrated that Steve had managed to talk to Max about making friends, when Billy hadn’t known how to bring it up without offending her, but he wasn’t petty enough to show he had a problem with it. Even if Max calling Steve “the best” was treason of the highest order, Billy just wanted her to be happy. If Steve’s intervention helped more than Billy himself could, then so be it.

They finished breakfast, got ready for the day and then went grocery shopping. As they got back to the flat, Max went to her room to chill, and Billy read for a while before he started preparing lunch. Keeping busy distracted him from thinking about seeing Steve in the afternoon. Well, he didn’t think about it too much, at least.

When Billy made his way into the coffee shop, Steve and Robin were already seated, talking animatedly… in another language.

“Hi. Was that Italian?”

They must not have noticed him approaching, because as soon as he greeted them, they stopped talking, and Steve looked up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Hey Billy”, Robin said, “as a matter of fact, it was.”

“Don’t you teach French and Spanish?”

Billy was perplexed.

“I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t speak Italian.”

“It figures”, Billy shrugged.

He wanted to ask Steve where he had learnt Italian, because it intrigued him. However, he chose not to. He didn’t want to talk to him unless it was necessary. It’d be better for everyone if they had the bare minimum of interactions together, surely.

“Are these new piercings?” Robin asked, gesturing toward his ears.

“Uh, no. I’ve had them for a long time. I just don’t wear them at school.”

“Well, you should. They look really cool, and I’m sure no one would have anything to say about it.”

Billy stared at Steve pointedly, but Steve looked away as soon as he caught his gaze.

“I’ll think about it.” Billy finally said.

Steve and Robin already had their orders, so Billy took his wallet from his bag and went to the counter. He glanced at the display case and eyed the cherry pie with envy, but decided against it. After this morning’s pancakes, it wouldn’t be reasonable. Plus, he hadn’t hit the gym in a few days. He had to start indulging less if he wanted to stay in shape. He went for a simple black coffee. As the burly man behind the counter, whom Billy guessed to be Benny, asked him if he wanted anything else, Billy nearly surrendered, but he powered through. He handed Benny a ten-dollar bill and put the change he was given in one of his pockets.

When Billy went back to their table with his cup of coffee, Steve was blowing on his cup of steaming hot tea. Billy’s eyes caught on the ‘o’ shape of Steve’s lips, which reminded him of his dream. He averted his eyes, praying to God he wasn’t blushing, now that he couldn’t hide it behind his tan anymore (screw Hawkins, Indiana).

As Billy sat down, he noticed Steve had a piece of the pie he’d been eyeing. Not fair. He nearly started pouting but caught himself. After all, his pie-less state was his own fault. Why did he have to be reasonable?

Billy took his pen and the essays he had to grade out of his backpack to give himself something to focus on. But then Steve started eating. And he moaned. Quite obscenely.

“Mh, this is so good. Benny is a magician. You guys want a bite?”

Billy really wanted to say yes, not only because he wanted pie, but because Steve was the one offering. It would have been weird, though? Right?

“No thanks” he ended up saying. What a hard thing to say.

Robin had no such qualms. She needn’t have, since she and Steve were actually friends. Not only did she get to experience Steve warmth and kindness, she also got a bite of his pie. Did she even know how lucky she was?

Billy got into his grading. And he was already past the no-pouting stage of the afternoon. It sucked to be him, sometimes.

“You should probably wait for Steve to finish eating… and drinking too, to be honest, before you put your students’ paper on the table. That man is a disaster.”

Billy had to admit Robin was right. He ate lunch with Steve on a regular basis, and had therefore seen him spill a bunch of things on himself. Thankfully, nothing he had ever spilled had reached Billy, so they were probably safe.

“Oh come on! We’re on opposite ends of the table.” Steve objected.

“I know, but I’m sure you’d find a way.”

Steve scoffed but didn’t try to argue his case any further. He looked adorably ruffled when Robin laughed at his expanse.

They didn’t say anything more for a while, as they were finally doing what they had come here to do. At some point, though, Robin brought up a point one of her students had made about the French translation of “Newspeak” in George Orwell’s 1984, which led her and Billy to launch a discussion about the novel.

Steve offered no input whatsoever, but he had stopped grading and had been staring at them for five minutes straight.

It was making Billy’s skin itch.

At some point, he couldn’t take it anymore and asked:

“What’s your opinion Steve?”

“Uh… I… I don’t really have one.” He stammered, caught off guard.

“How come?”

“I, uh, I haven’t actually read the book.”

“Oh. Well, you should. It’s an amazing book.”

Steve fidgeted with his red pen, repeatedly taking the cap off and then putting it back on.

“Uh… I don’t know about that. It’s not really my thing.”

“How can you know it’s not your thing if you haven’t read it?” Billy asked, a tad defensively.

“I didn’t mean the book… I meant, reading.”

Steve bit his lower lip.

“Why not? Is that beneath a math buff such as yourself, or something?” Billy’s tone had become hostile.

And, by pulling accusations out of his ass like that, he had gone from defensive to straight up aggressive.

“No. ‘course not… It’s just… reading is hard for me… I’m, uh… I’m dyslexic, so…” Steve trailed off, looking down at the pen he was seemingly holding in a vice grip.

Billy was speechless with shame and regret, as Steve offered a wobbly smile and said: “I’m gonna… go get some more tea”, before leaving the table.

Billy stared at his retreating form before he turned to Robin and found her glaring at him. If he could have felt worse than he already did, he would have.

“So… should I go apologize right now or should I leave him alone and apologize later?”

Teenage Billy would have probably not apologized at all, but present-time Billy knew better. He felt like the biggest jerk.

“I’d say, go for it.”

Billy followed Robin’s advice and, with knots in his stomach, he went to Steve, who was waiting for his tea behind the counter.

“Steve, man… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…” Steve said, but his eyes didn’t leave his own shoes.

That wouldn’t do. Billy had made Steve feel shitty, and he would make it better if it were the last thing he did.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Billy had let his frustration with Steve get the better of him, and that was unacceptable. Steve was not particularly nice to him, so what? It wasn’t a reason to be outright mean to the guy.

“Really, it’s no big deal… It’s not like it’s a secret… my dyslexia, I mean.”

“Yeah, but you obviously didn’t want to share this piece of info with me, and I should have dropped it.”

“I just… I was afraid you’d find me stupid… But you probably thought I was stupid already, anyway… what with me never having anything interesting to say when Robin and you talk about literature.”

“Hey, I don’t…”

Benny placed Steve’s cup of tea on the counter, cutting Billy mid-sentence.

“It’s on me”, Billy said, fishing his five-dollar bill of change out of his jean’s back pocket and handing it to Benny.

“You didn’t have to.”

Was Steve blushing or was it a trick of the light?

“I want to make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up for, but thanks.”

Steve grabbed his cup of tea and was going to go back to their table, but Billy held him back.

“Wait… I want you to know I don’t find you stupid, okay? I know I’m kind of a jackass, but not enough of one to actually think dyslexic people are stupid.”

“Good to know”, Steve replied.

“So, are we good?”

“I told you, we are.” Steve assured, smiling brighter than he had ever smiled at Billy before.

The knots in Billy’s stomach loosened, and his heart filled with warmth. So that was how it felt, when Steve’s sunshine fell upon you? Billy couldn’t wait to experience that feeling again.

“We should get back to Robin.”

“We should” Billy echoed, before following Steve, awestruck.

#Harringrove #Harringrove teachers AU #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #Max Mayfield #Robin Buckley #Stranger Things

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