#but the fact that his only portraits as an adult are taken from a completely side-facing angle. it begs the question! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

The Portrait of Love

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader (Reader wears a dress, but other than that no gender sign posts)

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: G

Warnings: N/A

Requested by @iamburdened: ‘Heart eyes when the other talks, sings, dances, argues, does literally anything especially things which others make fun of them for or find annoying’ with Pike because this baby boy deserves just the absolute best!! Cont.

Summary: When Marcus takes to you a work gala for the first time, he just expects a nice night chatting with colleagues and being proud to have his partner on his arm. He’s in truth a little bit worried that you’ll get bored hearing him talk about the latest art recoveries, truthfully, there’s nothing you enjoy more than listening to Marcus talk passionately about something.

Notes: Spent about 15 minutes just deciding which painting he should talk about in depth because research is important to me. Every time I write Marcus I just get this deep longing to curl up with him and express my love.

Archiveofourown

“Hey, honey, you ready to go?” He’s straightening his tie in your hallway mirror. Marcus had been predictably early to pick you up for this FBI Gala, but he didn’t mind waiting for you to finish getting ready. It gave him time to straighten out his tie, brush off his suit jacket, and check that his beard wasn’t getting a little too wild now that he’d decided it was staying for the foreseeable future.

The two of you hadn’t been dating long, four months at this point, and he’d never taken you to any of his work parties or events before. But, after a little bit of a pep talk consisting of talking to himself in his bathroom mirror one morning he’d decided to take that leap and invite you further into his life. Even if the possibility of getting hurt again gripped his heart with fear.

The gala was just the usual sort, schmoozing with officials and encouraging interdepartmental cooperation. There’d be alcohol, finger foods, some music, but mostly talking. He didn’t mind them, they usually meant he got to have a chat with friends in other departments and it helped to meet new people who might be helpful on a future case. He wasn’t sure, however, if you’d enjoy yourself at all. You weren’t a big party person, preferring to stay in with him and cuddle on the sofa while watching a movie and eating take-away food, and you didn’t know many people there. Conversation would be work based and he’s not sure how riveting talking about stolen art really is in truth. But, you’d agreed and he was at least proud to know you’d be hanging off his arm tonight. He usually went to these things alone and his team were starting to tease him about this mysterious partner of his that he never brought along, not that he was trying to hide you. He just...he just didn’t want to rush things, that had been his failing in the past.

“Yeah, sorry for making you wait,” You’re fastening the clasp of your necklace as you walk down the hall from your bedroom. When you’re greeted by silence after grabbing your bag off the sofa, you flick your eyes to Marcus.

He’s standing stock still in the hallway, hand still gripping his tie, mouth slightly agape as his lower jaw drops just a fraction of an inch. He’s handsome, always is, but there’s something about a well cut suit and crisp white shirt that looks especially good on his broad shouldered frame. He’s even trimmed his beard, just enough to neaten it up, determined to keep it’s length after you commented on how handsome he was with it one too many times.

“Marcus? Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah...yeah, I’m...I’m fine. You just..” He takes a deep breath, stilling himself. C’mon, Marcus, this is your partner for God’s sake. “You look beautiful, wow, really, really good...wow, sweetheart.” He wants to kick himself for how inelegant that was, of all the things he could say and he’s stumbling over how radiant you look, practically effervescent, some sort of ethereal being that he’s lucky enough to call his.

The dress really does look beautiful on you, following the curvature of your body, the soft lines that he’s hugged close more often than not. He’s half tempted to just forgo the gala, grab your hand and tug you back to your bedroom where he can get lost in the shape of you. But, you’ve put so much effort into getting ready and there’s an excitement in your eyes that makes him think you might actually want to go to this thing. He’d never take that opportunity away from you.

You laugh at him, but it doesn’t feel mean or mocking, just the sweet humoured expression of enjoyment at his words. A wide smile, the one he loves the most, twisting at the corners of your lips and crinkling the skin by your eyes. God, he loves you. He’s not ready to say it and he’s sure you’re not ready to hear it. But, he knows he loves you and this time, this time he hopes that it’ll work out.

“Thank you, baby...you look very dashing. The picture of a handsome gentleman.” You walk up to him, hands smoothing out the lapels of his jacket, gentle touches over his shoulders, before easing his hands away from his tie and holding them in your own. The kiss you place on his lips is soft and chaste, but he can feel that warmth in the pit of his stomach, the longing for you that burns brighter whenever you’re around.

He’s sure there’s a hint of redness to his cheeks, he always burns brighter in the face around you too. You have a way of flustering him like he’s 17 years old again and not a fully grown adult with a house, a car and a proper and responsible job.

“C’mon, if we don’t go now we’ll be late and didn’t you say you wanted to talk to Andrews about that case you just finished up?”

“Yeah, yeah I did.” It’s the fact that you remembered something so minute, something so miniscule that has him smiling wider at you and holding your hand as he walks you to his car. Like always he opens the door for you and helps you get in, adjusting the bottom of your dress so that it doesn’t get trapped in the door, before even thinking about getting into the car himself. He’s a gentleman and it’s the thoughtless, unthinking nature of it that makes your heart jump the most. He doesn’t do it to impress you, he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, he just...does.

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

The gala is enjoyable, it’s not some massively energetic affair but you like that, like that it doesn’t feel too overwhelming, that you can wrap your arm through Marcus’ and not fear losing him in the crowd. That you can chat with his colleagues, get to know the team mates who tease him about you saying ‘Oh, so this is your mystery partner!’, and enjoy the soft instrumental music that plays in the background.

Marcus practically preens every time someone compliments you on your outfit, there’s no jealousy, just pride and it amuses you to see him puff his chest out and stand a little straighter before looking over at you like you’ve got the world in the palm of your hands. You hope he sees you react in much the same way when someone compliments the cut of his suit or the trimmed beard. He’s a handsome man, a kind man, a good man, and everything about him makes you proud to say he’s yours even if you’re only four months into your relationship.

You’re just nibbling on some small pastries of some kind when a booming voice calls over the other people, many of whom turn to look before rolling their eyes as if they should have expected it.

“Pike! How’re you doing?” The man in question is older than Marcus by quite a few years, coiled grey hair and a warm smile on his face as he grabs Marcus’ free hand in a friendly shake.

“Hey, Andrews, not too bad, yourself?” It’s clear from the smile on Marcus’ face that he likes this man, but having heard him talk about Andrews in passing you knew the two were something of work buddies despite being in completely different departments.

“Oh, well given the amount of complimentary booze I’ve been throwing back, pretty good!”

“Andrews, this is my partner, Y/N.”

“Y/N, this is David Andrews he works in the Behaviour Analysis Unit.” Marcus introduces you to him, with an arm around your waist pulling you tight against him. The smile that beams down at you is nothing if not bright and proud to introduce you to his friend and you can’t help but smile back with similar ardor.

“Should I be worried that you’ll psychoanalyse me?”

“I’m a gentleman, Y/N, I’d never profile and tell.” It’s said with a wink, but that sort that’s more humour than flirtation. It puts you at ease and makes him seem more approachable. Unlike, some of the people you’d met tonight who were a bit stiffer in personality and harder to relax around.

“So Marcus, about that last case you mentioned? A Klimt?” You know Marcus has been dying to talk about the case too, always on the verge of bringing it up before telling you that he’s sure you don’t want to hear about it. He always ends up stopping himself and every time something distracts you from forcing the issue because there is nothing boring about Marcus’ work or anything he’s passionate about.

“You really want to know?”

“You know you’re the only one who’ll talk to me about art! Even my wife gets bored of hearing me talk about art and behaviour analysts are more interested in serial killers and their mummy issues!” David Andrews is a warm man and you settle yourself comfortably against Marcus’ side knowing he’s about to finally talk about his most recent case of art theft. You’re not an expert on art, not in the slightest and you’d never call it your calling in life or your major passion, but anything that gets Marcus to talk passionately is something you are enthralled by.

“The Portrait of Adele Bloche-Bauer I, this rich guy bought it a couple years back for $135 million dollars. Big money, big painting, and pretty interesting history too. You know it was stolen by the Nazis during World War Two? Adele had asked her husband in her will to donate the Klimt paintings to the Austrian State Gallery when he died. When the Nazis took over Austria, he had to flee to Switzerland and leave them behind. The Nazis confiscated them and it in 1941.”

You’re sure there are proverbial hearts in your eyes as you watch him, neck craning. His free hand moves as he talks, gesturing with each word and there’s a sparkle in his brown eyes when he talks about art, any art. Even art that he hates he talks about so passionately that you can’t help but enjoy anything he says. You lean your cheek on his shoulder as he talks and you’re sure it’s obvious in that moment how deeply in love you already are, even this early into your relationship.

“Now, this is a painting that’s over 100 years old, early 20th century, commissioned by a Jewish Banker, owned by a Jewish Banker and stolen by Nazis. The granddaughter won a legal suit to get the painting back and then sold it the exact same year.”

David’s listening to Marcus, he really is, but he’s also watching you. If there was ever a time when the expression ‘like sun shines out of his ass’ applied then it was now. You were so clearly in love with Marcus, the soft crinkle of your eyes as you listened to him, the way you wrapped both arms around his waist, the attentive way you listened. You weren’t fawning over him to distract him, you were fawning over him because you enjoyed listening to him. It made the older man smile, Marcus had had it rough and it was clear he was finally on to a winner in the relationship department. He briefly considers starting a betting pool on when Marcus will propose or if you’ll beat him to the punch. Now that would be a surprise.

“So this guy is sitting on this painting, he’s got it up in a gallery and it’s a Klimt, so you can imagine...It’s one of his last ‘golden phase’ paintings so all that gold has people flock to it and it’s a pricey painting too! Now we get a call a few months back saying it’s been stolen and it becomes a wild goose chase from there…” He’s too enthused with the art to really think about whether he’s boring you. It had been one of the most beautiful paintings he’d ever managed to recover and had he been dating you officially at the time he probably would have broken a few rules to let you see it.

The night continues much like that. Marcus tells you and those around you about the cases he’s recently done, the paintings and sculptures he and his team had recovered and the history behind them. His knowledge was bolstered by an Art History degree and personal interest and research. While he does this you spend your time listening, genuinely interested in all the knowledge he displays, curled as close to him as you can be at a formal party, and staring at him like he hung the moon and stars in the sky.

It’s not hard to stare at him like that. In the few months you’d been dating he had proven to be a wonderful boyfriend, the perfect partner. While he had expressed a desire to move slowly because of past failed relationships and clearly had reservations about how far to go with you, what to say, what to withhold, and what was okay and not, he was nothing but loving. He respected you greatly, something easy to see with every action he took and every word he said. He always made sure you were okay with a course of action, asked your opinion regularly and listened when you had something to say. The few times you’d raised issues in your relationship he’d listened and so had you, the two of you working through the teething problems together to come out the other side better and stronger. He was unfailingly kind and considerate to you, there was never a day he didn’t compliment you or send you a good morning text, in return you always let him know you got home safe from work and told him how wonderful he was. He made sure you were okay when you were feeling sick or under the weather, always popping round after a long day of work to care for you. He never made you feel bad for a single thing you did for him, like the time you brought him flowers, nervous he’d hate them because your past boyfriends had been less receptive to the thought of them. He always held doors open for you and offered to carry your bag if it was heavy. He always made sure to leave you with a smile on your lips and never made you feel silly when you were upset or panicked.

He had proven to be a wonderful person and wonderful boyfriend all on top of being so incredibly handsome that you wondered how you’d lucked out to find a man who was quite literally the whole package. If there was ever a man who screamed ‘I’m husband material, take me home to meet your entire family’, it was Marcus. He was mature, responsible, safe, and comforting. He wasn’t boring either, the whole concept of safe as a boring baffled you. There was nothing better than knowing you could rely on Marcus, that if he said he’d be somewhere he would, if he said he would do something then he would, that if he made a mistake or messed up he’d own it and apologise for it, that you could discuss problems and figure them out together. He made it all seem so easy and simple, he made the effort and the energy you put in worth it because it was appreciated and returned in equal measure. You never had to baby him or mother him, he was an adult who could look after himself.

“Did you have a good time, honey? I know I talked a lot...hope you weren’t bored?” It’s asked as your hands are clasped swinging between the two of you on the walk back to his car, footsteps echoing around the quiet car park.

You lean your head on his shoulder, turning your cheek to press a quick kiss there even though he can’t feel it through the layers of clothing. “I had the best time...I love listening to you talk, baby, I don’t think you could ever bore me.” You want him to believe you, to be confident in that. The hesitation to talk to you about his interests bothers you because you love him and his passions, because you don’t want him to ever doubt your desire to listen.

You pull him to a stop, both hands now holding one of his, forcing him to stop and look at you with raised eyebrows and a bemused smile. “I love listening to you talk about the things you’re passionate about, Marcus. Don’t hide it from me. Please.”

“You...you mean that?”

“Yes, I really mean it!” You say it with a laugh on your lips because how could you not love listening to him talk about the things he loves the most, the things he’s interested in. He had said on multiple occasions how much he loved hearing you talk about your interests, so why was it so hard for him to understand that you felt the same way.

There’s something blinding to him about your smile in that moment, about the realisation that you actually want to listen to him, that you enjoy listening to him, that his love of Art history, something that his past partners have had little to no interest in, is something you want to hear about. From him. It...it stuns him a little bit in the best sort of way and for a minute he thinks maybe this was supposed to happen. Maybe his ex-wife, Teresa, all of it was supposed to happen to bring him to you. Where he was supposed to be.

He kisses you because he can’t bring himself to say he loves you yet. He’s scared if he says it, this magic feeling, this peaceful place you’ve found yourselves in will shatter like a dropped mirror. So, the love he feels for you, he pours into a kiss, arms wrapping tightly around you, a hand cupping the base of your head. You open your mouth to his without a second thought, your hands trailing up over his arms and shoulders before diving into dark brown hair that had been combed neatly for the evening. Kissing him always brings a warmth to your chest, a sort of ache that makes you want to cry happy tears. There is something so safe and welcoming about his embrace, something so warming about the gentle slide of tongue against yours and the press of his nose into your cheek. It’s all consuming, all you can think about is his touch, his smell, his presence, his warmth. The outside world fades away and only Marcus exists.

“Can I take you home, Honey?” A large palm slips down low on your back as you pull away from each other, Marcus’ nose grazing against yours with a cheeky little smile and a familiar twinkle in his eye that means trouble.

“Only if you stay.” The twitch of one eyebrow and lopsided grin tell you you’re on the same page as you rush to his car like naughty children about to get in trouble and not fully grown adults.

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

He’s grabbing some shitty coffee from the little kitchenette on his floor the day after the gala, feeling like his heads too fuzzy after a late night with you and the horrible event that was forcing himself out of a warm bed next to a warm body, when David walks by and spots him.

Marcus is sure he probably looks as grumpy as he feels, he just...he really didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. Not with you there all warm, gentle and soft. Bedhead everywhere and a little, little pool of drool underneath your arm, not that he’d tell you about that. It’s easy to get up at his place when he’s alone, there’s no one drawing him back, no warmth calling to him.

“So, how’s the partner? Still hanging on your every word?” The grin of David’s face spells trouble, the sort of trouble that usually ends with Marcus bright red in the face and feeling less put together than he should be as head of a department in the FBI.

“What are you talking about?” The words confuse him...separately and individually they make sense. He knows David’s talking about you, who he left in your bed at 5am this morning to come into work early for a meeting. He knows he’s referring to something but not quite what, something to do with words and...and...did he miss something? He feels like he’s missed a whole chunk of a conversation. Marcus decides it’s far too early for this, especially after a long meeting that didn’t get anywhere.

“Last night.”

“What about last night?” He’s definitely putting more sugar than is healthy in his coffee this morning, mostly to combat the bitter fatigue and maybe the short sugar buzz would make his brain understand what the hell David Andrews was talking about. Though that seemed less likely by the second, maybe he’d call you later...you might know what he was getting at.

“Y/N, you did notice right?” The look he gives Marcus can only be described as shock turning to hilarity, as if Marcus had missed out on some obvious punchline to a joke. For a minute he wonders if he’s fucked up again...have...do you not like him anymore? Was this David’s way of warning him that he’d seen something in your face last night that spelled the end of his relationship? “Wait, you don’t...kid, you’re not seriously telling me you’re that blind?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, David.” He’s getting a little frustrated at this point. Usually not quick to get angry or annoyed, the thought that maybe you’d given some sign that you were ready to end their relationship was making him more irritable than normal. While he’d accept it if that was the case, he’s not sure his heart would survive another knockout in the love ring.

“The heart eyes Y/N was giving you all night? Hanging on every word you had to say about art? Looking at you like you hung the moon? Not leaving your side for more than a few minutes at a time? Y/N’s in love with you, kid.” The grin on David’s face is so wide that all of his shiny white teeth appear blinding. There’s a panic that begins to grip Marcus’ heart, an instinctive reaction to the pace at which everything suddenly feels like it’s happening.

Once upon a time he would have enjoyed the rush, ran head first into it, but after too many failed relationships, rushed seemed scary, fast was too much. It was too soon, you’d been dating four months, you couldn’t possibly love him. Sure, he loved you but...but he always fell in headfirst, too quickly

“No...no...I mean...it’s too soon, right? We’ve only been dating a few months and...and…” He thinks back to Teresa, their quick, fast paced romance, the ultimate end when she left him for another man. About his ex-wife, how they’d rushed into marriage young, how it hadn’t been enough to keep her attention, he hadn’t been enough. Then he thinks of you. Of your smiling face, the softness with which you trace your fingertips over his shoulders when he stays the night, the way you laugh at all his jokes even the bad one’s...how you said you enjoyed hearing him talk about his passions last night.

“Look, just because you’ve been burnt before doesn’t mean you’re going to get burnt now. Pike, I've seen love and that was love in Y/N’s eyes. Not attraction, not like, not a crush, love. Maybe you’ve finally found someone going at your speed? Think about it.”

He does. Think about it, that is. Takes his coffee back to his office and sits there for ages not looking at the files on his desk or the case work he has to get done, just thinking about you. He can’t really stop himself when he picks up the phone and dials your work number, knowing that you’ll answer, assuming something’s wrong most likely.

“Marcus? Are you okay? Is everything alright?” You’re worried and that worry adds to the pounding of his heart, the ache in his chest. You worry about him. You care about him. You barely let the phone ring before picking it up.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay, honey...I just…” His eyes drift to the paper weight on his desk, the one shaped like Michelangelo’s David, that you’d bought him on a trip to an Art Gallery. It reminded him of you whenever he looked at it. His free hand scratches across his beard as he leans more comfortably back in his chair.

“Did...did something happen? Baby, are you…? You don’t sound okay?” You’re worried. Marcus doesn’t just call you in the middle of a work day, not unless something has happened. Despite his words he seems off, not his usual self and there’s an anxiety that fills your chest at the thought that something isn’t right, something isn’t like it normally is.

“I’m great I just...I wanted to say I love you. I don’t say it enough...or at all.” He bites the bullet, knows it’ll come out at some point because he very rarely has any sense of patience. He knows the moment David said you might love him, he was a goner, he wasn’t going to be able to contain his own feelings. Because he loves you. Loves you so much that it’s hard on a morning when he actually wakes up beside you not to tell you he loves you. It’s hard not to say it when he leaves for work or when he phones during a rough case.

There’s a pause on your end. He can hear your shaky breathing, the quick inhale of breath at his words. He has to close his eyes tight, just for a second, just to swallow down the feeling of nausea in his stomach at the thought that you might be about to tell him to take a hike.

“You...you love me? Really?” It’s said with a happy little laugh in your voice, the sort that comes from awe, shock, an unexpected happiness that fills your chest. You can see some of your colleagues looking at you funny from the corner of your eye, but don’t really care in that moment.

“Yeah, honey, I love you. So much. I just...it’s okay if you don’t want to say it, I...I don’t want to rush you or ruin what we have.”

“Marcus, how could telling me you love me ever ruin what we have? God, baby, I love you too. So much, so so much!”

He can’t help but laugh, it’s the relieved sort of laugh. You can hear the happiness in the breathy chuckle, can feel a few tears coming to your eyes because he loves you and you love him. Nothing could be better than that, then this feeling.

The two of you stay on the phone for longer than you should considering you’re both at work, but in that moment, revelling in the happiness that only comes from sharing a declaration of love and receiving that love returned, you can’t find it within yourself to care.

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #the mentalist reader insert #the mentalist readerinsert #the mentalist #readerinsert #reader insert #gender neutral reader

201 notes · View notes

tsuumu · 4 years

Text

beautiful stranger.

oikawa x reader

a short piece in which oikawa tooru approaches you on a idyllic evening. it’s a little awkward though, since you’re trying to die.

word count: 3.3k

tw: indirect and direct implications of suicide.

your warm hands stay gripped onto the metal rails in front of you, applying enough force to watch your knuckles turn white. you find yourself doing it over and over until your fingers numb from the continued pressure. alone, you’re mulling over mundane affairs. you’d rather not be thinking about them but find this loop all too easy to fall into.

the shadow of the railing casts over a large canal, its water sifting freely, far beneath you. it laps over itself, slithers of fish break the transparent surface as they swim. some of their scales rise to kiss the sunlight in opaque relfections.

thin layers of petals scatter the ground beneath your feet that have slipped from overhead trees and continue to flutter down freely. glowers of dying sunlight seep through the shapes of them as they fall.

in this moment, autumn is alive.

it’s really lovely right now.

you’re here, all caught up in chasing that feeling of peace. safety in an open space. you have to cope with that fact that tranquility never comes easily for you.

there’s nothing that should be leaving you as deeply unsettled as you are. you’ve learnt to largely ignore feeling so overwhelmed, though it stirs and resurfaces times you wish it wouldn’t.

what’s bugging you is that you can’t quite get a grasp on your own life.

for starters, everything lacks coherent meaning. to you, there’s something constantly missing every single day. nothing purchasable, nothing attainable through hard-work and any level of perseverance. truly, it affects you so much so that even just standing here, feet glued to the very spot that is undeniably ‘lovely’, brings you nothing but unimaginable sadness.

earlier, you brushed it away as an off day but you know that’s not true. you’ve been feeling like this all the time.

it is, therefore, not at all abnormal to wonder: can a person have such thing as an off life?

you really don’t like to think about things like this too much. once you begin to muse over deep naysay you find yourself snowballing.

solutions are painfully unobtainable and it’s generally as productive as chasing pavements.

do i really enjoy being alone? or am i obsessed with the sensation loneliness brings?

“you know, if you stare long enough, you might end up wanting to jump in.”

at once, your vision snaps up, taken aback by the additional voice. you hadn’t realised that during your mindless lamenting, another person had quietly joined you by the evening canal-side.

fair skinned, dark eyed, chocolate curls brushed neatly over his features and cowlicks that bob against the light gusts of wind.

a boy offers you a smile, before shifting his feet towards the empty space to your left. you can’t seem to process him, staring at the empty spot he’d been in seconds earlier.

you’re not supposed to be here right now.

“i was totally kidding by the way.” he adds. “that was really dark, sorry.”

you’re silent in return, eyes casting back onto the running stream. the water is shallow and the fall long, so jumping in would certainly prove fatal. you know all of this too well. it’d disturb the fish who are just here to live, though, it’ll only be for a moment. they won’t know any better.

you don’t really know what to say. it’s troubling that he’s here and hearing it out loud disturbs you, like a direct call out. at no point were you prepared for any kind of conversation prior.

the two of you stand there in complete silence. it’s not particularly awkward, you just don’t know why he’s approached you so easily, talking to you like he’s known you well enough to make outlandish jokes.

asking directly for his intentions seems rude, so you’ll put up with it until he leaves.

“do you always come here?” the stranger pipes up once more, though his focus doesn’t leave the water. you breathe in deeply.

“sometimes.”

“oh, i see.”

his palms lay flat and he pushes gently off of the rails, only to fall back onto them with all his weight. he does it again, repeating the process over and over at a steady pace. you stay hunched over, keeping your distance. he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest though, clearly absorbed in his surroundings.

“it’s like a set out of a movie, this place. seems like somewhere i’d ask my girlfriend to marry me.”

your tongue rolls around in your mouth.

yes. you think. his girlfriend would most likely be thrilled-over the top-squealing if he did. that’s entirely his business.

you really don’t care to hear of other people’s romantic endeavours.

is it out of jealousy? you don’t know. maybe.

this conversation is meaningless. you wish he’d go away sooner so you could have this time to yourself.

also, jealousy is an ugly word. you hate it.

he stops his movement with a exhale of air, tilting his head back to blink up at the warm sky. the last touches daylight mingle with the oncoming darkness, creating a deep tinge of orangey-yellow.

“when’s your birthday?”

‎a petal lands on the bridge of your hand, sticking to your skin.

“do you want my social security number?” you deject.

“what? no!”

“are you sure? really, i’ll give it to you.”

“no!”

“then why are you asking for my personal information?”

‎

he falls silent for a moment, before mumbling out a small: “just wondering.”

a tinge of guilt creeps over you at his apologetic tone. you admit, your answers thus far must make you seem like a completely unapproachable asswipe. you’re not at all. you just aren’t all that sure how to make small talk with strangers when you’re trying to part with the world by dinner time.

it feels like an unexpected guest at your very lonesome party.

“it’s (insert birth month).” you fold.

he purses his lips, face contorting a little.

“i see.”

he doesn’t continue down that path after your response. the both of you return to a mutual silence, staring into the portrait scenery ahead. the stream fills the soundscape pleasantly. fallen leaves have gathered at the base of your shoes, brushing over the tip gently with the turn of the wind. you observe them quietly.

“can i ask you another question?”

he seems a tad more timid now.

he definitely thinks you’re the type to blow up and give him an earful about minding his own business, doesn’t he?

you’d never raise your voice. in general, but also because it’d break the comfort of the scenery the world has so generously given you.

“sure.”

“do you believe in soulmates?”

‎the question is a little random but not impossible to answer by any means.

“no.”

“what?”

“i said not really.”

“you said no.”

“that’s the same thing.”

“...fair enough.”

‎he exhales out, sounding a little disheartened by your curt response. perhaps to him, you were a tough nut to crack; an ambiguity for him to understand. were all people like that? you weren’t playing hard to get, in fact, you’d answered every single enquiry he has had to offer. his efforts are amusing, though.

you raise a brow at him.

“i’m sorry, was that the wrong answer?”

for a moment, he doesn’t reply, stuffing his hands into his pockets, gazing down at the head of his shoe. pivoting his ankle, he draws small circles with the tip of his foot into the ground, into the dead leaves.

“not at all.”

“your expression says otherwise.”

“um, it was just a bit bleak, i guess.”

you let your arms droop way over the railing, fingers wading through the autumn air. you’d never really taken the concepts of soulmates to heart. it was romantic bullshit put out by somebody looking for a fantasy to indulge in. out of seven billion people, there could hardly be a singular person made for you. people aren’t born for other people. if that were the case, it wouldn’t be a rose-tinted fantasy. it would be suffocating. where’s the freedom in love?

“most people always answer like you these days anyway.”

“oh, sorry.”

he looks up at you, tilting his head.

“no, don’t be.”

back to a default mute, left with nothing but the faint chitter of overhead swallows and the odd rumble of cars passing by.

“tooru.” he states, after a while.

“what?”

“tooru. my name is tooru.”

“oh, okay.”

“oikawa tooru.”

‎your fingertips have become flushed. maybe you’d pressed a little too hard on that cold surface earlier. now that all your blood has come rushing back, the tingling sensation feels foreign.

his name slips of the tongue rather easily, don’t you think?

“nice to meet you, oikawa tooru.”

“it is nice, isn’t it?”

for the first time, your gazes meet properly and you offer him a crooked smile.

“i suppose so.”

off the side of the canal, almost right under the bridge, a small cluster of ducks have gathered. adult ducks tend to be considerably larger than its offspring —as is factual with any animal— so it’s easy for you to tell that there’s only one parent there, along with three of its ducklings.

people like to come to the canal to feed the ducks bread, though you’d heard somewhere that it’s actually quite bad for them.

you wonder. do ducks care particularly if one of its ducklings die? will it do something with the body, cry out, hurt?

or is grief exceptionally human?

“i don’t actually have a girlfriend, by the way.”

he sifts out his phone, tapping the screen and sliding it open. you watch him turn it to its side, before leaning over to take a picture of the depths below. you just watch.

“oh, okay.”

he doesn’t elaborate, focused intently on his current task. your attention returns to the shape of the birds, bobbing up and down rhythmically.

there’s only so much you can say about the canal. yeah, it’s beautiful. you don’t have the right vocabulary to describe the way it makes you feel. honestly, it feels abysmal to even try. you’re convinced though, that you’re in love with the way the water moves. you’ve always appriciated it whenever you walk past, told yourself jokingly that you could die there if you had to.

funny, that.

beautiful things tend to hurt in an unbearably amplified manner.

“say, tooru?”

“yeah?”

“if i climbed over the railing right now, would you stop me?”

you’re both fixated on the paddling now. his phone is back in his pocket, elbows propped up. he hums, taking his time to think over your question.

“most likely.”

your fingers meet one another and the tingling spreads to your palms.

“i’m thinking of jumping, actually.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“my joke earlier...”

“yeah.”

his fingers drum rhythmically on the slender poles under the rail top.

“then i’d jump right in with you.”

the corners of his mouth tug slightly at your perplexity, supressing a chortle. he’s not laughing at you, though. it’s more a gesture of understanding. this tooru doesn’t know you at all, yet he gets it. he gets it all too well.

you get that he gets it.

tooru clears his throat. “bad day?”

“that’s an understatement.”

“well, you’re not a bad person for feeling the way you do.”

by now, the ducks have swam away, you can make out the general shape of them, melding into the distant, mute colours of the bankside. the sky look minutes away from being set alight. time has never been your friend, you see.

“i feel crazy for trying.” you’re rather blunt about it.

“fair enough.”

“…is that all?”

“well, do you want me to tell you that you’re not crazy?”

you lull into silence.

“i don’t know.”

with that, you shift to angle yourself so that he’s in your immediate peripheral, the thought of gawking at him seems ridiculous but you want to look at him. you find it hard to do it up front for some reason.

“i’m no suicide expert, but it’d probably be lonely doing something like that by yourself. wouldn’t it be comforting to know someone’s falling with you?”

your fingers run absently across the jagged surface of the rails, the old paint has been chipped away at, after all its years of protecting. in all it’s history, had anyone else hitched themselves over this very rail?

were they asking for the same answers as you?

god. that’s awful. you don’t want to think about that.

you catch each others’ eyes for a second but you resign quickly, focusing as hard as you can on the flecks of black on your thumb.

“that would be selfish of me.”

“not if i’m offering.”

you scramble to look anywhere else, abruptly turning. you’re facing away from the canal, stomach fluttering a little as you fall onto the rail’s length.

in all your time by yourself, you’d never been given an irrefutable reason to ‘be’. it’d always been a live-for-the-day type of experience. if a day is good, you’re utterly blissed out by it, totally in love with life. if it’s bad, you have little reason to go on. nothing particularly interests you enough to dedicate your days persuing it. fame seems tedious, looks are temporary, a six figure career sounds like emotional jail-time, or a slow, schedule-filled trek to death. whichever description sounds more sufferable.

you see, in essence, we all get off at the same bus stop. some journeys are simply shorter than others.

“you’re guilt-tripping me out of it.”

“i’m not!”

you’ve never stopped to ask yourself what it is you want.

death interests you, you suppose. though, you don’t see the reason to wait around and pretend to ignore it until one day it drags you kicking and screaming.

“oikawa tooru, don’t you have better things to be doing than offering to jump off bridges with strangers?”

that coy smile tugs at his lips once more. nothing you say seems to phase him. it’s like he knows you. he’s thinking: yeah, this isn’t anything out of the ordinary for them.

“should i? you look at that water like it’s someone you hate. or love. maybe both. i got curious.”

“curious?”

“yes. and quite frankly, you’ve left me curious. practically starving. you haven’t even told me your name.”

“my name doesn’t matter.”

“boo. that’s not true at all.”

his tongue pokes out, tugging at the corner of his eye. you shake your head, genuinely unable to hide your amusement, turning to him properly this time.

and really, it’s like the canal side and oikawa tooru were made from the same stardust. he blends right into the picture, as effortlessly pretty as the rest of it.

the strands of hair out of place, a little disheveled from the breeze. the scarf buried into his nose, glasses a little misty from the heat of his own breath but when they clear, you see his eyes all too well.

you’d like to tuck those strands into place, they’re bothering you just a little.

“(y/n).”

your brows furrow a little.

really, this could all very well be some sort of fantastical dream. as nice as it all is, it feels painfully unreal. boys don’t look like that on autumn evenings or offer to die with you.

that’s it.

tooru must be a figment of your imagination.

no. wrong. not a dream.

this is a corner of your mind you haven’t ventured into yet, psychologically, some kind of safety net. a sliced off piece of reality you’ve come to hide in because you’ve utterly lost your mind. he is nothing but a part of you that makes you feel at ease as you come to terms with your self-destruction.

god, that bothers you more. you are crazy.

your hand extends, reaches out all on its own.

you just want to know if he’s real.

oikawa tooru glances down for a moment, he’s probably wondering about you, what’s left you in such a state. though, he’s happy to slide his palm against yours, latching onto it. he shakes once, twice. a little more. tightens his hold a bit.

the weight of his fingers as they brush lightly against your palm is fantastical. he’s so warm. you can feel it spread through you from the pads of your fingers.

he’s very real.

tooru has rather pretty hands.

the contact makes you feel kind of delirious, a produce of being utterly touch-starved. just a simple touch. you’re embarrassed to say it but it takes everything inside of you not to start weeping or hold on frantically in case he does disappear, do something bizzare that’ll scare him away forever.

hey, tooru. are you made of honey?

“well, (y/n), i’m offering you my life right now.”

the sun has set foot on the horizon, plunging in ever so slightly. as a child, the thought of night scared you, feeling largely betrayed by the sun’s farewell. now, it’s a unique kind of comfort to see the moon. it’s as lonely as those who lay their eyes upon it.

“i don’t want it.”

his fingers slip downwards against the dips of your palm.

“you don’t?”

“no, i mean... i don’t want death. not right now..”

you don’t even want to think about it anymore. funny, how things like that work. you were so sure of it. today was the day. your dark rendezvous. weren’t you itching for it?

this bastard.

this man you’ve never met. he clasps onto your hand once and suddenly he stops your nauseating rollercoaster of thoughts and leaves you wondering if, actually, you’d like to see the canal-side again tomorrow, or in fifty years.

who are you really, oikawa tooru?

“no?”

“yeah.”

“then what do you want to do?”

“stay right here, i think.”

your fingers curl, maintaining your hold on him. you should be shy or awkward about this whole ordeal but so you’re desperate for that warmth to continue.

you both stand there, facing one another, hands extended. it’s a little robotic looking. you’re pretty stiff but very sure this is what feels right.

to you, existence is based solely on feeling your way through stages of life. that sickeningly sweet innocence of youth. childhood memories that to you, are dwindled husks of gold, valuable in some aspects but almost meaningless in others. to laugh or to cry allows an individual to create a deep-set connection to the environment around them. it is no longer passing scenery but a moment in your life you once lived through.

that’s beautiful, isn’t it?

unfortunately, emotion provides both a living fantasy and the potential for agony. life is not sweet, nor innocent. it is what you make of it.

it is what your mind is forced to make of it.

and as much as one wishes they were as coddled and loved as they were children, life beyond those years is lonely, difficult and more than you were ever capable of.

were you weak? perhaps.

but maybe people aren’t built for life. we’re all weak.

and realistically, if you are unable to clamber over one obstacle after another -established by those before you- you’re doomed to fall behind.

that will hurt. you will hurt unforgivably because self-worth is no longer a beautiful gift of internal discovery and love but another way to be measured and downsized externally. a practice that leads to hatred. a desire to die.

that’s really where it all began for you. a romantic, a poet at heart, living inside your own, kinder world. that is until reality knocked on your door, invited itself in, just to set the entire thing on fire and leave you as vulnerable as the day you were born.

you aren’t allowed to hide. it comes looking for you eventually.

your stance on life hasn’t changed, afterall, you’ve spent nights mourning over how much it can hurt to live. to fall asleep exhausted with yourself, only to wake up and do it all over again. what you do know, however, is that droning, lonely feeling isn’t there right now. that ongoing, battering ruckus inside your head has ceased. tooru, the strange magician, has left you thoughtless and a little dumb.

you like being this stupid. for once, there’s nothing intrusive prodding the inside of your head.

it’s frightfully quiet, actually. you don’t know what you’re feeling right now. how much time has passed since he’d made that awful joke?

his gaze is on your lingering contact, before lightly pulling you closer, twisting his wrist down so you’re holding hands. your gaze moves to the bankside. you feel comforted. maybe it isn’t death, maybe all you want is a hand to hold.

probably not. that is a stupid, sappy thought. you’re still fanatic about ending your life.

you were so close to doing it, without even really understanding what you were doing. the canal scenery is overpowering, numbing, if you will. without oikawa tooru, you may well have kissed those fishs’ fluorescent scales with your own two lips, as cold as ice with some unfortunate early-morning runner discovering you by twilight.

“we can do that.” he hesitates. “if i’m honest, i would have been pretty scared to jump.”

“yet you still offered?”

tooru hums merrily in confirmation.

“why?”

“because you’re cute.”

you can’t believe your own ears.

“what? seriously?”

“yeah. originally, i wanted your number but things took a small turn.”

you burst out in gutteral laughter, free hand back onto the railing for support. for a moment, you look at him, shaking your head in utter amazement.

“you’re a piece of work, tooru, you know?”

“yeah, i know.”

he smiles back at you. the shadows cast by the setting sun only make him all the more enigmatic.

now that you think about it, you can’t figure this guy out at all. it’s like staring at a wordless piece of paper and trying to find something legible.

“how do you know i won’t come back and repeat all of this tomorrow?”

tooru tilts his head ever so slightly, observing you. his eyes flutter down to your lips, speaking like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“because you told me your name.”

“what does that have to do with anything?”

“well, now that i know that, you’re no longer just a beautiful stranger.”

you understood now. he hadn’t just offered you his life, he’d offered you him. by living on, you’d accepted graciously. he knows that if you visit the canal side again, you’ll only remember this moment.

a bad moment that he, in all his glory, turned into a good one. the day you two first met.

oh, clever boy. he saved you.

though you must say, oikawa tooru, you’re very much mistaken.

you are the beautiful stranger.

a tear runs down your cheek, a little warmer than you could’ve expected.

one turns into two, slipping more and more. eventually, you’re standing over the canal, hand in hand with oikawa tooru, sobbing quietly as the water runs peacefully below the both of you.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #oikawa x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa fic #i love oikawa

548 notes · View notes

callisto-rants · 3 years

Text

Starting a new ✨series✨ that no one asked for! ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

Callisto-Rants presents...

Here's my Two Cents

Where we just throw down our two cents on how we would change a series to make it better, in our own personal opinion.

[You can Block this tag if you're not interested in this series: #Here's Our Two Cents]

Here's my Two Cents

Yarichin Bitch Club.

Ever since I had the misfortune of having that opening theme song stuck in my head because of countless memes and tiktok edits. . . I have wished for days to have the ability to create a time machine to prevent myself from saying. . .

"okay, fine I'll bite the bullet and check out the source material."

Now if you're reading this and thinking, "huh. I never heard of this series..." let me just tell you, GOD I WISH I WAS YOU RIGHT NOW.

No one was going to tell me this BL Manga about a "pHoTogRaPhY cLuB" wasn't completely INSANE? I was just supposed to find out Three Volumes Later??

Now some of y'all who have read the source material might be thinking. . .

"Okay Callisto, get over it it's obviously supposed to be a comedy it's not meant to be taken seriously 🙄"

And to that I say... I mean I guess??? But do we really need all of THAT to make it a comedy?? I feel like you could still have an entertaining comedy BL Manga without 90% of the shit that goes on in that series..... But that's just ✨my two cents✨ take it or leave it.

FIRST THINGS FIRST, here's all the stuff I'd automatically remove from this series off the bat.

💀 The Gang Bangs.

💀 Teacher x Student Relationships.

💀 In fact all instances of unconsensual acts & sexual assault committed in this manga. Throw all of that away.

💀 the fact that the term Bisexual was used as a replacement for the term switch, and had nothing to do with the sexual orientation itself whatsoever.

💀 The High School Setting.

💀 Whatever the fuck Yuri was on.

💀 90% of the hyper sexualized traits these characters had.

Now here's what I'd change to make it better... Basically here's an AU of what if it was actually a normal photography club....

Actually make it a fucking Photography Club. Not a sex club that's in a fuckin HIGH SCHOOL. Hell, you could just throw this in a college setting too, for more mature themes.

Main character, Takashi Toono a college student that's trying to get out of his comfort zone more. So he decides to join the photography club, because he thinks it's not demanding to require anything of him compared to any other club on campus. He knows completely NOTHING about photography, and doesn't have any passion for the art media. His Character growth would be learning to appreciate the art media While learning what it means to him, as well as who he wants to be as he enters the adult world as a young adult.

Yuu Kashima, can stay as Takashi's love interest. Also, I feel like all the members should have a specific style of taking photos that correlates with their personality in some way. Yuu's photography style would be something the lines of Candid photography which is a type of photography style that's main focus is to take photos in the moment or in surprise. Something he has already done when he took that photo of Takashi. I also feel like Yuu would be the one to keep pushing Takashi to love photography, and understand it's more than snapping a photo.

Kyousuke Yaguchi, can stay as the Love Rival for Yuu Kashima and overall keep his personality? It was actually pretty interesting and I liked his Character dynamics with everyone else. Kyousuke Yaguchi can also stay as the outsider that directly / indirectly influences Everyone else in the club. Causing Takashi to explore his feelings and expand his social group, and make him think about what he wants to capture in his photos. Overall the same interaction between Kyousuke & Yuu Kashima with their rivalry and brotherly relationship at it's breaking point. As well as, Kyousuke and Yui's relationship being tense with miscommunication.

Yui Tamura, I imagine Yui's photography style would be more of Adventure (capturing shots in the great outdoors, usually involving extreme sports; mountain-climbing, skiing, kayaking, sky diving, etc) & Sports Photography. Which could create interesting interactions between Kyousuke and Yui. Cue Yui trying to cover up the fact that, every time the soccer club commissions Yui to take some photos of their club activity to promote their club, all of Yui's photos are of Kyousuke playing soccer. Causing Yui to complain to Kyousuke to get out of his shots and that he's ruining them by being in all of them. So, Kyousuke just shouts back "then stop following me around with your camera, DUMBASS". Just imagine Them bickering, because Yui 100% did not delete the photo he captured of Kyousuke getting knocked out by a soccer ball to the face.

Itsuki Shikatani would definitely be in the club, but only because he prefers to have his photos be taken, more than he likes taking photos himself. He would probably be a cross dresser, who enjoys dressing up in feminine articles of clothing and posing for photos. Everyone on campus who doesn't know Itsuki personally, always asks who the beautiful woman in these photos are, the club president and vice President always just says it's one of their cousins that happen to be in town. If Itsuki had to have a style of photography, it would probably be fashion.

Toru Fujisaki. . . This one is difficult only because his Character is purely centered around Yuki's Character. . . So I'm going to take some creative liberties here. . . Probably really insecure about himself, because he feels like he's a wall flower that's really forgettable, that no one cares about. Although, it's mostly because he's shooting himself in the foot by not letting one have the opportunity to get to know him to give him a chance, in the first place. Until, he meets Yuki who makes him realize that not everyone sees him as a wall flower and someone can notice his nicer qualities about himself that he's hiding away. Toru's Character development in this AU, would be for for him to learn to love himself more and try to trust people to accept him. As well as to expand his social circle with the support of not only Yuki, but the Photography Club as well. At first I bet, he would only feel comfortable with Yuki taking his photos and modeling only for him, but over time he'd let the other club members take his photo when he gets more confident in himself. While also, developing his own style of photography, that isn't just "cute photos of Yuri", it would probably be Still Life or Portrait.

Ayato Yuri, okay first. . . I'm still not over the fact that this boy was written like a deranged feral child, that was given access to a pornhub account way too early in life. While being dropped on his head several times, before and after his first words. Anyhow. . . I feel like Yuri would fit the trope of the genius, that no one understands in any capacity. His mind is 10 steps ahead of everyone else and he forgets to slow down and explain what the fuck he's talking about, when he goes into a passionate rant about photography. With endless rambles about golden ratio, gold lighting and blue lighting, and how he needs these specific props, that don't seem to fit the theme of the photo at all to make it perfect. But despite that, his photos always come out beautifully. No one can deny that his methods might be extremely weird, but they always work out way too well to give anyone the opportunity to chastise him. Anyone trying to work with Yuri often leaves the experience with a beautiful photo in hand, but an enormous headache. Even members within the photography club can't keep up with Yuri most of the time either, he's often in his own little world that just makes sense to only him. He can be a eccentric and passionate about his hobby and goofy to not make people feel too uncomfortable with the huge distance he unintentionally places between himself and others when he doesn't bother to slow down for anyone. But, he still has a good heart to make sure everyone gets a piece of art that'll always be memorable to them. Additionally, with that being said I feel like Toru would be the few people that would consistently attempt to keep up with Yuri, when he's a light year away from everyone else in his rambles. Toru wouldn't shut down and show disinterest in what Yuri says when he can no longer keep up, he's always being supportive and encouraging Yuri to continue because he knows it makes him happy to be able to express his passion. And sometimes, Yuri will pause and explain a bit to let Toru keep up with him, because he just truly appreciates someone trying to get closer to him, without making him feel bad. I would say Yuri is a jack of all trades when it comes to Photography styles. There isn't a single style he is terrible at, but he truly excels at Abstract Photography.

Koshiro Itome I think Koshiro would fit the silent type trope, but with a lot on his mind. Always over thinking things, and although he looks calm his mind is always buzzing with 500 things at once. Because, of this the only way he can find some semblance of peace is by going out for a nature walk and letting the environment take his mind off things. He's always worries about deadlines for projects, meeting up with clients face to face for the first time, whether or not a company will like his photos he submitted, if his boyfriend Akemi is okay, what if he doesn't find anything to take a picture of or if he's missing the perfect shot right now, will the club be okay after they all graduate, what else can be learn to improve his skills etc etc. Akemi can always tell when he's actually calm and when he's just zoned out and drowning in his own worries behind his calm demeanor. Luckily for Akemi, he knows exactly what to do to make him feel better, like a life boat to his pleas for help in the vast ocean of his thoughts. Koshiro is 100% the mom friend in the club, always helping newbies out on how to properly take care of their equipment, and the general basics, stopping people from bickering and carrying around a Mary Poppins bag of useful items. "Damn I forgot to bring my infrared lens with me!" "It's okay I brought a spare, here you go." Koshiro's photography style would be Nature & Wild life, cue everyone wondering how the hell he managed to capture a photo of baby bear and it's mother so close up with such clarity with the equipment he has on him. It should be impossible there's no way he could it's just unlikely, but all Koshiro does in response is just shrugging calmly "I just slowly walked up to them, and took some photos and went my way after I was done, they weren't bothered at all." At first no one believes him, until they see the next photo of him petting the mother bear, and within the next photo of him holding the baby bears paw. I like to think Akemi is always bragging at how his boyfriend is basically a Disney Prince, with the way animals just trust him enough to let Koshiro approach to take the photos. Of course Akemi has the proof that his Boyfriend is not making any of these up. With photo evidence he had taken from a incredibly safe distance away, of Koshiro just interacting with wildlife at such a close distance. Because, Akemi was not in fact gifted the ability of a Disney prince, to be doing that shit that Koshiro pulls on a daily basis. I feel like because of this Akemi can be a bit over protective of Koshiro, always telling him to text him before he goes to work and he gets back home, so he knows a feral bear didn't devour his boyfriend in the woods. He tries his best to join Koshiro while he works so he can be at peace of mind that Koshiro is in fact safe, but they both know it's very difficult for Koshiro to focus. When his boyfriend is being incredibly cute how could he remember he's here to take photos of the wild life and not his boyfriend? That and Akemi always accidentally scares away the wildlife, when he accidentally reads the animals body language wrong as any attempt to devour his boyfriend. Akemi will lose 25 years of his life with amount of false alarms, he has encountered in those damn woods.

Keiichi Akemi, Akemi is definitely one of those smug bastards, that has an ulterative motive or an ace up his sleeve. Appearing sweet and kind until you realize it was a facade. But one way or another you find yourself wrapped up in his convoluted plans, where you're either in his photoshoot as a model or you're carrying all his equipment, while he goes from one job to the next. Akemi's photography style would be Wedding Photography & Landscape something he definitely would've picked up from the countless outings he had with Koshiro in the outdoors. Akemi's friends are almost always married or paired up together, and that's no coincidence. This man is a match-making demon, a hopeless romantic who loves to see a budding romance finally bloom. So, he can snag a fat check when they thank him for brining them together and hire him as the official wedding photographer. His intuition is never wrong about the perfect pairings and how to push the right buttons to move things along, without getting directly involved until the right time comes. Something, that will be a pain in Toono's ass down the line as he stays in the Photography Club.

Overall, I feel like this could've been a really nice BL Manga which was a love letter to the art media of Photography. As Toono figures out what Photography means to him and how he wants to use it to express his feelings. "Why do you take photos? What do you want to say in these photos and tell people without the ability of using your words?" I feel like at first Toono, would just be confused "it's just a photo what's so special about it? You take it as a cool momento for something."

But, as time goes on, and he learns why everyone in the club enjoys photography and why they're here, he learns it's more than that. Whether it be to vent something you're unable to express in words, express your love for something or someone, to tell a story, to inspire others, to feel free, to share something with someone. All these different forms of expression, will let Toono figure out what he wants from photography and how he plans on expressing it.

Also instead of the whole "have sex with someone in one month or we gang bang you against your will" dilemma. . . I feel like another suspenseful situation could have been, "Create a photo album, that will impress all of us in one month, or you have to help us all out with our next projects." Which at first doesn't sound terrible, until you remember...

Yui is a thrill seeker, and would probably push you off a cliff to snag a cool photo. Or force you to be his pack mule as you climb up serval mountains.

Itsuki would force you to cross dress and model different fashion styles to make you look like a clown for his own amusement. All the while he revels in your shame, and points out how these colors don't suit you at all, but ignores the fact he's the one who put you in that outfit in the first place.

Yuri is such a wild card that you honest to God don't know what the fuck will happen to you, it'll be like being on an acid trip the whole time. And not knowing what will happen brings you more fear than knowing what will.

Koshiro would probably bring you to a wolf den full of hungry ravenous wolves, and let you accidentally get eaten alive by a pack of wolves. While he takes pictures of puppies, without a care in the world.

Akemi... Akemi just scares Toono, he seems like the safest bet out of everyone else. But Toono knows better to trust that sweet smile. Toono would be safer walking into Satan's house than spend a day with Akemi at work. Whatever he would have planned for them if he were to lose this challenge would not be good for his sanity. He hates how he knows Akemi wants just that for Toono to know he's not going to be safe either. Akemi would probably make him cry with prying questions about his romance life. While hitting too close to home with all his assumptions about him that he can't argue back. It's losing battle from there on out.

The only problem for Toono is Everyone in this club is so different, that it's almost impossible to be able to impress them all. None of them agree, which style is better or having almost anything in common photography style wise. Toono can't just half-heartedly replicate anyone's style either, he's going to actually try and fail miserably to understand this art media better, like everyone else. I think after losing the challenge and spending time with everyone, Toono would come to really like the club and everyone else in it.

And that's my ✨two cents✨ on how this story could've been better if it didn't focus too much on the whole pwp aspect.

Take it or leave it.

#Here's Our Two Cents #Callisto Rants #yarichin b club #god i hope one day i forget this series exists #and no I don't care if there's people out there who like this series unironically y'all do you!#just wanted to rant on how i would change this story to make it less hyper sexualized 乁| ･〰･ |ㄏ #not trying to say y'all should be cancelled or something silly like that #Takashi Toono #Yuu Kashima #Kyousuke Yaguchi #Yui Tamura #Itsuki Shikatani #Toru Fujisaki #Ayato Yuri #Koshiro Itome #Keiichi Akemi #basically a huge rant post #AU where it's actually a fucking Photography Club hcs

47 notes · View notes

belphegor1982 · 3 years

Note

86. “Don’t be scared I’m right here” prompt for sibling feels between Jonathan and Evie! Maybe when they’re kids and Jonathan is being a protective big brother?

I finally finished it! Hope you like :o)

The Chimera in the Attic

“Don’t be so loud,” whispers Jonathan, and Evelyn does her best to pin him with the most beady glare she can manage in the dark. It’s not so easy as it used to be. Jonathan has grown a lot in the past few months, and Evelyn remains somewhat on the small side for an eight-year-old girl.

He’s still skinny, though. The dressing gown Dad gave him for his birthday, saying he’d grow into it, is still too long and baggy for him.

“I’m not loud.”

“You are! I don’t even know how someone so small can be making so much noise while she walks! What are your slippers made of, solid lead?”

“Well, you’re the one who keeps talking!”

“Look, do you want my help or not?”

Evelyn glowers, but forces her voice down.

“Yes,” she mutters with a sigh – carefully, so she doesn’t blow her candle.

“Good show. Now – toes first, and then your heel. Mind the stairs, we’re almost there.”

It seemed a good idea to ask Jonathan for help – and, if she’s honest, it probably is – but she still doesn’t like it when her brother decides to be The Grown-up. It doesn’t suit him at all. But if she is to retrieve the books Mrs Pemberton, the housekeeper and household dragon, confiscated from her and locked up in the attic, then Jonathan and his baffling (and highly dubious) talent for opening doors is just the man for the job.

The fact that this ‘man’ is a thirteen and a half boy notwithstanding, of course.

And to be completely honest, creeping around the dark, silent house around midnight in his company feels much less daunting than it would on her own.

“Mum and Dad wouldn’t have taken my books away,” she mumbles while the both of them tiptoe up the stairs, careful to avoid the fifth step that always creaks.

Jonathan shoots her a look that has more than a little commiseration to it. But he doesn’t make a sarcastic comment like she half-thought he might. He also doesn’t point out that she’d need only wait till next Friday for Salwa and John Carnahan to come back from their trip. He knows few things are more important to her than her books.

“No,” he murmurs, “they wouldn’t have. But maybe you need a little more… I don’t know, subtlety?”

“What do you mean?”

“Next time, don’t leave the books lying around when you know Mrs Pemberton doesn’t approve of you reading treatises that would give any normal adult a headache, especially when you should be sleeping. You might want to keep them hidden.”

Evelyn concedes the point silently.

True to his word, Jonathan only needs a few minutes until the lock gives up. She probably shouldn’t be so impressed.

The South Wing attic is one of the few places in the house that still don’t have electricity – not even gaslight. It’s essentially a large lumber room filled with steamer trunks, some full, some empty, cabinets and bookshelves devoid of books but filled with bric-a-brac, and more generally everything that’s not too sensitive to light or dust. The windows have only had windowpanes for a few years, and that’s solely because Mum and Dad wanted to use the space to store their travel diaries, inconvenient heirlooms, and everything they couldn’t find room for downstairs.

At this hour of the night, it looks empty and huge, and dark, and utterly uninviting.

Evelyn and Jonathan remain frozen on the threshold for a few seconds. Then Evelyn takes a deep breath, hears Jonathan do the same, and they enter.

From there they split up to search, Evelyn hoping the dust won’t ruin her slippers, Jonathan swearing quietly every time he stubs his toe against something. For some reason it feels even more important to be silent here than it did downstairs, which is silly. This attic is not anywhere near sleeping quarters.

Evelyn lifts a pile of old almanacs, careful not to breathe in the dust that goes flying when she puts them down. Then an unexpected noise behind her makes her gasp.

“It’s just me,” whispers Jonathan, who somehow crept up on her. Evelyn is all the more miffed because for once it doesn’t appear he did it on purpose. “Did you find anything?”

“Just these.”

“Are you sure this is where Mrs Pemberton took your books? She could’ve hidden them in her lair with the rest of her hoard – ugly portraits, stuffed lizards, human remains –”

“Oh, shush.”

Mrs Pemberton came with the house, so to speak, and watched over their father’s childhood with a gimlet eye. She’s very fond of John Carnahan and respected Salwa al-Masri from the moment Dad brought his new wife to England, which is a lot more than can be said for the rest of his family and household staff then. But she is Proper and Traditional and rules the house with an iron hand when the master and mistress are away. Jonathan sometimes half-jokes that he doesn’t see much difference between home and school as far as caning and bleeding knuckles are concerned. Evelyn really hopes he’s exaggerating on both accounts; but the last time Mrs Pemberton caught him scaling the vines on the west façade to sneak into a room, he held himself oddly for a few hours, and that wasn’t because he’d fallen down. He also made Evelyn promise she wouldn’t say a word to their parents, so she kept mum, but she can’t help thinking it’s not right. Mum and Dad never hit Jonathan when he misbehaves.

In normal circumstances she wouldn’t pick at his language. But a dark, dusty attic in the middle of the night is the last place in which she wants to hear about human remains.

“I saw her climb the stairs with all three books and come back down without them,” she points out. “She must have left them here.”

Logic has always been her most trusted ally. Jonathan, knowing this, nods.

“All right, so they’re somewhere in this mess. Now. If I was a fire-breathing dragon who eats twelve naughty children for breakfast, lunch, dinner and supper every day, where would I hide forbidden but valuable books?”

Evelyn can’t help a silent chuckle. Then her eyes fall on a cabinet in a corner, standing in a pool of shadow.

She nudges her brother and they silently make their way towards the cabinet.

A rustling sound in the near distance makes them both freeze. The little candleholder trembles a little in her fist; with her other hand she instinctively searches for Jonathan’s.

“Don’t be scared,” she hears him whisper, “I’m right here.” But his hand is none too steady in hers as he grips back.

“I’m not scared.” Jonathan gives her a look before he bends to inspect the lock of the cabinet, so she insists, “I’m not! I was just startled.”

“Right,” he says with that small infuriating grin of his, like he hasn’t jumped as well at the sudden noise. “All right, then, let’s see…”

A minute later he manages to open the door just a sliver and peek inside.

“Well, good news, there’s your books. I can see the name of one of those dratted Bembridge fellows on the cover. Bad news: something’s blocking the door and I can’t get it open without forcing it – hang on –”

Jonathan pulls on the door, Evelyn steps closer to hear what he’s muttering, and that is when a few things seem to fall on their heads at the same time: something heavy, a cloud of dust, an angry screech, the flapping of wings brushing their skulls. Jonathan yelps, Evelyn cries out. Her candle falls to the floor, instantly snuffed out, but the light managed to give her a glimpse of teeth, feathers, and – scales?

A hand grasps hers and tugs her onwards. She runs along without hesitation, barely registering that they’re racing down the stairs and across the wing to Jonathan’s room, until they’re safe and secure behind the door, covered in dust, chests heaving, their hands on their knees.

“What the hell was that?” gasps Jonathan. Evelyn is too out of breath to answer right away. She’s too busy trying to shake the sensation of lightning coursing through her whole body, like her whole person is reduced to a small human-sized wire.

When she’s able to make sounds other than panting, she groans.

“My books! We forgot the books!”

“We were attacked by a monster and that’s the first thing you say?”

“But that was the entire reason we… We have to go back!”

“And we will, but in the morning, when we can see more than five inches in front of us. And won’t be set upon by nocturnal chimeras.”

“Well,” Evelyn declares mulishly, struggling against the remnants of the terror that made her fly down the stairs as fast as though the wings had been hers, “I’m going. I won’t be able to sleep for a while anyway, I might as well have something to do.”

“Evy.”

“You’re welcome to stay here if you’re afraid, of course.”

“Evy.”

“But you will not stop me from—”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. The next thing she knows he drops three heavy volumes into her arms, so covered in dirt one can hardly decipher the titles on the cover.

“Here are your blasted books, you lunatic! And the next time you need something retrieved from wherever it’s ended up then you’re welcome to—”

It’s not easy to embrace another person while holding books that might be a little more massive than one can safely hold with one arm. That doesn’t stop Evelyn from following her impulse and throwing herself in her brother’s arms before he can finish his sentence. Emotions race through her – retroactive fright, a remnant of righteous anger at being denied what she loves most to do, relief at the return of her favourite books – and she knows better than to fight them. Instead she burrows her nose into the front of Jonathan’s dressing gown and lets them run their course.

Jonathan sighs into her hair and wraps his arms around her. If she doesn’t grow taller quickly he’ll soon be able to put his chin on top of her head. Usually she’s tempted to be a little miffed about that. Right now, it doesn’t sound so bad.

“I don’t… I didn’t mean that.”

I know, she thinks, letting the familiarity of his voice and his wiry frame wash the rest of her nerves away. She was fully prepared to march back up those stairs and into the attic, and now she’s unspeakably grateful that she won’t have to.

Later, when they’ve dusted off their nightclothes, Evelyn hops into bed with her brother. She does it every now and then when she can’t sleep for this or that reason, more rarely since he has gone away to Eton and only comes back in the weekends. Even if he complains that her feet are cold he never turns her away. As always, their whispered conversation carries late into the night. Evelyn is drowsing already when she asks, “What do you think happened, exactly, back there?”

“I don’t know,” whispers Jonathan, eyes closed, “and I don’t care. Whatever it was, it won’t bother us now.”

Evelyn agrees and finally falls asleep, secure in the knowledge that she is safe and, perhaps more importantly, so are her books.

※ ※ ※ ※

The next morning, they wake up at an ungodly hour to retrieve Evy’s candleholder and erase all traces that suggest they recently set foot in the attic. They approach the cabinet cautiously, only to find a moth-eaten stuffed crocodile’s head on the floor covered in bird droppings and what looks like a little owl’s feathers. The ‘trophy’ – probably older than their parents – must have been left on top of the cabinet for ages, wedged against the top of the door, effectively preventing anyone from opening the door completely.

Jonathan looks down, then up, then down again, and says, “There’s our chimera. Looks like we survived a crocodile attack last night.”

Evelyn makes a face. The memory of their undignified rout stings, especially now that it’s obvious there was nothing to get so scared about. Startled, yes; scared, no.

“I wonder if we frightened that poor bird away for good,” she muses as they set everything to rights as silently as they can.

Jonathan, who wandered off looking for the point of entry, looks over his shoulder and says, “I hope so. I don’t fancy this attic becoming an aviary. There are too many interesting things here to leave them left for the birds, so to speak.” He plugs an owl-sized hole in a windowpane with a rag and adds with a grin, “The things you’ll do for books, I swear.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Evelyn counters, feeling a similar wide smile make its way on her face.

And Jonathan, who usually has a ready sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue, only shakes his head with a snort.

Books – both their contents and their physical form – are important to Evelyn in a way they aren’t to Jonathan. Perhaps they’ll never really understand each other on this. But perhaps it doesn’t really matter, either.

After all, even if he isn’t up to standing up to a chimera in the dead of night any more than she is, her big brother still knows her well enough to know that Evelyn Carnahan will only leave a book behind in the direst of circumstances.

(There you go! Not my best prose, I’m sorry, but it’s the best I could hammer out into shape ^^’ I have a lot of feels about these two and I’m always glad for the chance to explore these feels, so thank you, dear anon 💜)

#the mummy #the mummy films #ask reply #fanfiction #my stuff

14 notes · View notes

a3hastakenovermylife · 4 years

Text

Ok, I really, really want some quality interaction between Kazunari and Taichi.

Like I know that we all joke about them because they’re our energetic, adorable, puppy pair, and yes, that is who they are on the surface. But, when you simplify their whole character arcs down to just that, you’re flattening their characters and you lose the depth that the game hints at for the both of them.

The game did a really great job at letting Taichi flush out a decent sized character arc, and concluded that story in a satisfying way during the Autumn Troupe arc. We see our sunshine boy upset, withdrawn, and separating himself from the others out of guilt. Then we see him distraught over the things he’s done and being comforted by Omi (honestly my favorite interaction in the whole series, second only to Juza and Banri high-fiving). Then we see him confessing to the others, and they all retell their portraits to one another, and Taichi finally gets to accept that he’s been forgiven, and more than that, that he’s been truly accepted into the troupe. For the first time, he gets to understand that he will get to act, he’s going to have the opportunity to do what he loves and he’s going to be able to do it with people he’s come to care so much about.

Taichi is in a much better place at the end of the Autumn Troupe arc, and we can see the potential for that to grow in the future. However, I do not feel like we get to nearly the same place with Kazunari.

With Kazunari, we begin to understand that he puts on a front with other people, that he acts all happy and tends to agree with everyone as to not ruffle any feathers. He’s never had a group of real friends before the Summer Troupe, and when confronted with the fact that he not only doesn’t have to pretend to be neutral, that his friends don't want him to be. Kazunari made some real progress here, he did stand tall and give his opinion, but he isn’t shown to make any other significant changes. Nor, can we tell whether this was a permanent change.

He’s still the same energetic Kazunari, friendly and fun-loving as always. I can’t help but feel like his character arc was left mostly incomplete, we know there's a problem, but we haven't taken many steps to fix it, nor does it seem like Kazu has had any change in attitude. He’s still bottling most of his emotions up, refusing to show anything other than his cheery smile.

Here’s where we get into some of my own characterization here, because as a freshmen art major myself, I know, I know, that college isn't easy. On top of all of that, trying to pretend that everything is fine, is like putting a band-aid on a stab wound. The longer you hold everything in, the more mentally isolated you make yourself. Even surrounded by kind, loving, caring people, you can feel totally alone. On top of that, place his pre-existing tendency to hide any and all of his real opinions and feelings, which isn't the kind of mental behavior you can fix overnight.

What you’re left with is a ticking time bomb.

No human being can be happy all the time. It's just not possible.

When a human being is upset, they will need help eventually. Especially, a college student, stepping out into the world for the first time on their own, a pseudo-adult who likes to pretend they've grown up already.

Kazunari needs that character arc of his to be finished, because right now, he's sitting in a limbo within which he can never truly be happy, or relaxed. Simply because he hasn’t taken the time to learn how to open up to his friends.

Now, here's where my Taichi and Kazu interaction comes in.

(Ok, I started this just as an idea post and lo and behold it became almost as long as a fic. This is literally just my word vomit, so I apologize in advance for any poor grammar, spelling mistakes, and unclear transitions that occur, but please enjoy and tell me if you want me to make this a proper fic)

Taichi has for the most part evolved through his character arc, he's in a good place now and is growing closer to everyone in the company. Meanwhile, Kazu seems to be falling out of sync with everyone, he’s way less chatty, he spends most of his time by himself, and while when he's actually in the room with them he is acting relatively normal. Every single time anybody asks him if something is bothering him, he laughs and brushes the concern off easily. However, his troupe mates can hear how forced the laugh sounds.

It’s something that happens over a few months, but Summer Troupe is very worried. They’ve taken to having weekly meetings in the common area while Kazu is doing his homework to try and puzzle out what’s been going on with him. The others share their concern as well, the point is that now the whole company is determined to get to the bottom of whatever is up with him.

I bet you anything that Omi notices the similarities right away. This is way to eerily similar to the way Taichi was acting during those last few weeks before everything came to light. He probably approaches Kazu to talk several times but is shut down at every turn by a forced laugh, or an easy excuse like ‘I’m just a bit tired.’ or ‘Just been super busy lately, that's all.’.

Taichi, himself, probably notices too, but he really doesn't want to stick his nose into something that felt so incredibly personal. He lets it go because he knows how helpful it was when his troupe mates let him talk out his troubles, and listened, and accepted him for all his faults. He feels if he buts in now, he’ll just take that opportunity from Kazu, and he’d never do something that.

The Summer Troupe keeps trying, and one night they all approach him at once, determined not to let this go until he fesses up. They all corner him in his room and start to ask questions, and Tenma and Yuki are almost certainly going to be coming off as being a bit harsh, but who can blame them Kazu has been worrying the both of them senseless for months, and neither of them are the type to mince their words.

Muku is especially emotional throughout the whole thing, he’s had a front row seat to this slow motion train-wreck this whole time, living in the same room as Kazu. He sees how late he stays up, and how often he gets no sleep at all, he's the one who sees the cracks beginning to form in the persona Kazu has built up for himself. He even mentions one particularly horrible night when Kazu was crying in his sleep. By that point though, Muku is relatively incomprehensible through his own crying.

Misumi is mostly watching, agreeing with the others, saying supportive words, but mostly standing aside, looking and feeling a little helpless.

This is Kazu’s breaking point. Kazu has been spiraling for months. It started with feeling horrible and stressed about his classes, then evolved to worrying about how he always hid that fact from the others, then to feeling guilty about being so dishonest about his feelings, then to feeling even more guilty about pushing them away when they were clearly worried and not being able to reciprocate their kindness with even the most basic courtesy of honesty.

Seeing all of them like this, pouring their hearts out to reach him, it just made him feel worse. He wanted them to understand, but some part of him was certain that they never could. That even if he could speak right then, that none of it could make them understand. There was also a traitorous part of his mind that heard Tenma’s frustrated shout and Yuki’s sarcastic drawl, and only hear accusation and condemnation.

He knew it was stupid, that his friends would never actually feel that way about him. He knew that.

That didn’t stop that little traitorous voice in his head from taking the steering wheel though, it didn’t stop it from completely taking over. He was on his feet and pushing past them out of the room before he even knew what he was doing. He vaguely recognized the feeling of someone grabbing a hold of his shoulder and he forcefully pulls away, running faster than he even knew he was capable of out of the dorm.

The voices calling for him to come back, concerned, worried, crying. Concern for him, and he can't even turn around to look at them, he can barely even hear them. He keeps running, longer than his body should have been able to run, faster than he ever thought possible. He tripped more than once and was left with scrapes from each time. The others tried to follow him, but in the darkness, it seems that none of them had succeeded.

Or maybe, the same voice whispered. They’ve just decided to give up on you.

Meanwhile, the Summer troupe meets back at the dorm, and they get the others to come help them look for Kazunari. To say the least, Summer Troupe is pretty distraught, all things considered. Muku is an even worse than he’d been earlier, having given up entirely on trying to talk, Yuki has made it his responsibility to keep Muku from falling over, having to prop him up through most of their search, and he’s become oddly quiet as he does so.

Misumi actually does cry for a few minuites for Kazu, he's so incredibly sad that he can’t seem to do anything to help. However, he doesn't let it keep him down. It's no more than five minutes before he stands up with a half-smile to help search for him again.

Tenma, is just oddly quiet, like way too quiet, more quiet than even Yuki. Only speaking in clipped one-word sentences, and mostly even then, only answering questions addressed to him. He's clearly frustrated, but more than that, he almost seems remorseful. By this point, he’s feeling pretty guilty and useless himself. He is the leader of this troupe after all, and it is his responsibility to take care of stuff like this isn’t it?

It’s early in the morning, and the whole company has been searching for hours when it starts to rain. It's at this point that the director just says that they should head back and get some sleep. Tenma does not take that order well. After a very loud and long argument with Tenma, the most that he’s spoken all night, he finally gives in when he sees the state the rest of his troupe is in, Muku has practically fainted already, Yuki was on the verge of tears himself and Misumi was just staring blankly into space dejectedly.

So, with that everyone heads back to the dorm to go to sleep.

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

It’s only after they're back inside, dried off, and the lights are off that Taichi realizes that he can’t sleep. He was close with Kazu, they’d always meshed really well together and got along really well. When he’d seen a reflection of himself in Kazu, he'd let it go, and now he was really starting to regret it. He should have realized, that just because Taichi had had Omi to help him work up the courage to confess what he’d done to the rest of the troupe, and to help him sort out his feelings. Omi was practically an adult, he was so mature and always seemed to know what to do.

Summer Troupe didn't really have an Omi. Kazu was actually the oldest of the bunch of them. He should have spoken up sooner, tried to help Kazu through it, if he’d just said something earlier, the situation might not have gotten this far out of control. Taichi had desperately needed someone to give him the courage to speak up when he’d been in such a dark place and, something told him that Kazu needed the same thing, and that nothing would change at all until he got that much.

He might have school in a few hours, and it might still be raining, but Taichi honestly didn't care. He couldn't sit still any longer. He got up from the covers, and grabbed his jacket and was about to open the door to their room when he heard Omi sit up.

“You’re going to go look for Kazunari aren’t you?” He asked.

Taichi blinked and stammered, trying to come up with some other excuse, and epically failing. It was too hard to lie to Omi though, especially after everything that had happened between them. Omi just chuckled, and told him not to worry so much. Omi stood and opened his own closet, pulling out a spare backpack, and placing a large towel, an oversized poncho, and an umbrella in the bag, then handed it to Taichi. Then silently lead Taichi along to the kitchen, where he pulled out a large thurmace and heated up some hot cocoa to put inside, then handed that to Taichi as well.

“I think that you might be one of the only people who can get through to Kazunari, you realize that too don’t you?” Omi said softly, as to not wake the others. Taichi nodded emphatically, a little stunned that Omi was just letting him go no matter how irresponsible of an idea it was. “Alright, then. Good luck, and bring him home.”

Taichi nodded and just as soon as he had gotten outside he started running. It was still dark and rainy, but at least there were plenty of streetlights. He called out to Kazunari and he called and called. Mostly though, Taichi was looking, looking for any sign of a person, anywhere. By now, he was pretty sure that Kazu wasn’t going to reply to the call, but he did it anyway, just in case.

Eventually, about an hour in, his voice got raw and he needed to take a break. He stopped talking, and sat down on just some random street corner, not caring one bit that his pants were now wet.

It wasn't any good, he wasn't going to find him was he?

He sat dejectedly on the concrete, just listening to the rain and feeling his pants begin to get soggy. He didn't know how long he sat there before he heard it.

It was faint, so incredibly quiet, that even the light sound of raindrops nearly drowned it out entirely.

Yet, if he listened hard enough he heard crying. He hoped he wasn't just his desperation getting to him, making him hear things. He stood up eagerly anyway, staying silent and trying to follow the sound before it stopped. It was hard, really hard, and the sky was starting to lighten just a minuscule shade when he finally made it to the mouth of the alley.

There Kazu was, Taichi could just barely make out the top of his head poking out from behind a stack of abandoned boxes. He was absolutely drenched to the bone, there was no way he wasn't going to get sick after this. He was crying softly, his head ducked and his arms hugging himself.

Taichi carefully approached Kazu and found himself at a loss for a moment. The very last thing he wanted was for him to run off again, and he really didn't want to startle him either. What he settled on was taking the umbrella and the towel out, and holding the umbrella with one arm, while he dried Kazu’s head off to the best of his ability with only one arm to work with. Kazu stiffened but didn't move, his crying coming to an abrupt halt as he held his breath.

“Hey, Kazu. It’s just me, Taichi.”

Kazunari gave a shaky sigh of relief at his voice. “Damn, Tai-chan don’t scare me like that ok? Thought you were gonna mug me or something...” It was clear that Kazu was trying to put up his barriers again, and not quite managing it.

“Sorry, about that.” Taichi apologized, more than a little relieved that Kazunari had actually spoken to him right off the bat. That was farther than the rest of Summer Troupe had gotten. Taichi fumbled a bit before he decided to sit next to Kazu, after it seemed clear that he wasn’t too keen on moving.

Silence settled between the two of them, Kazu seemed to be trying desperately to reign his emotions back under control. Taichi was just trying to think of how to start this, what to say. He thought about how Omi had approached him, but something told Taichi that Kazu wouldn't connect well with that.

It didn't help that he had no idea why Kazu was so upset, or what had caused this, or if anything really had caused it. There might not be one cause. It was more than a little overwhelming, Taichi really really really didn't want to mess this up.

He couldn’t do nothing again though, that wasn't an option, he had to say something, anything.

He decided, to just say whatever came to mind. To say how he felt, and hope to every god out there that it reached him.

“You know, it’s impossible for a person to be happy all the time, don't you?” Taichi asked. Kazunari didn't respond, and Taichi decided that was ok. He’d just keep talking for now. “I won’t pretend that I know why you’re so upset, because I don’t. It’s ok if you don't really want to talk about it right now, I get it. Though, if you’re up to it, I would really appreciate it if you listened to my story.”

Taichi waited until he saw Kazunari nod, the other teen seemingly relaxing a bit beside him. Taichi smiled at the sight, and began to speak.

(Authors note: in this story only Autumn troupe and Yuki (+ the director) know about the fact that Taichi was a mole. Not because they're keeping secrets, just because the others never asked and nobody thought to tell them. Mostly, I don't know for sure if any of the others know, and I like to imagine that they don't know, or at least not the full story.)

Taichi essentially performed his portrait for Kazunari, by the end the other teen was actually looking up at him. Taichi continued though, even after his story normally ended.

“You see, whatever you feel so upset about, guilty about even, I doubt it'll be worse than the things I've done. Even if it is, I know that your troupe mates would listen and try their best to understand why. No matter what it is, no matter what might have happened. They care a lot about you, and the only reason they got so frustrated is because they hate seeing you hurting like this, they were only trying to help, you know...”

“Yeah, I know that...” Kazu looked away again. Though, this time he didn't curl in on himself like before, he leaned back and looked to the sky, which was already beginning to lighten in color. “How did you know I was feeling guilty?”

“I guess, I can just tell? I don't know, it's a bit freaky actually.” Taichi gave a nervous chuckle, then his expression softened a bit to match the sincerity in hie voice. “I saw your expression, and it was almost like I was looking in the mirror, I got this weird sense of de ja vu, and I could just tell. That probably doesn’t make any sense does it...”

“Never experienced it myself, but I get what you're talking about.” Kazu replied with a sigh, closing his eyes. The two of them stay quiet for a minute, Taichi got the feeling that Kazunari was just on the verge of telling him something, so he was patient, giving the other teen the chance to gather his thoughts.

“You know, hearing all that you just said, it almost makes me feel a bit silly. This is such a stupid thing to get so worked up over, ‘ya know.” Kazu shook his head at himself. “It’s always been stupid, and I’ve always known that but I can't help it. I’m always terrified of what others will think, if I don't keep a smile on my face. More than that, I’m so used to pushing all of my worries aside that I don’t even know how to face them anymore. I just ignore them, until I can’t anymore.” Kazu swallowed thickly, leaning forward again and running a hand through his still, thoroughly damp hair. “I don’t want to keep hiding my real feelings, it's just that each time I get even slightly uncomfortable, it's easier to just put the mask back on. I can’t help it, and that’s terrifying, ya know. I want the others to know when I’m stressed or upset, its not like I want to keep hiding it from them, but it never seems like the right time to let the facade fall. They're so used to me being happy, that I don't think they understand how much of it is fake. What happens when I let everything out, and they realize that I've been lying to them? Will they even be able to stand me, as I am now? They’re friends with the energetic, fun-loving Kazunari Miyoshi, not me. I don’t know if any of them have ever even met this side of me, I'm hardly even the same person. I really don’t want to ruin this place, I really really love it here. I’m happier living here than I've ever been in my life, I don’t know what I'd do if everything fell apart...” Kazu trailed off.

“I don’t think anything is going to fall apart, Kazu. Things’ll change a bunch, but nothing will be ruined. You don’t even need to do anything more than just explain this to your troupe. Even if they don’t get it at first, they’ll do everything they’re capable of to help you, I just know it. Also, I think that you’re more likely to push them away continuing on as you are, than you are if you just tried to explain.” “You don’t have to try and handle this all by yourself. Please, try and explain this to them. Trust me when I say that you’ll feel better afterwards.”

“You really think it’ll turn out alright?”

“I know it will.”

Kazunari gave a breathy chuckle. “How can you be so sure?”

Taichi smiled wanly and thought about earlier that evening...

“’The hell? How can you even say that?! You really expect me to just go back to the dorm when Kazunari is out here somewhere, all by himself! If we don't find him soon, who knows what’ll happen! Who know’s what’s already happened? He could have been mugged in an alley somewhere by now, and we’d have no idea!”

“Tenma...”

“I’m not going back.”

“Tenma, please stop and listen for a second. Everyone is exhausted, we aren’t going to make any progress like this. If we sleep for even an hour or two and get back to it, we’re more likely to find him, ok?”

“There’s nothing ‘ok’ about any of this!”

“Alright, maybe ‘ok’ wasn’t the right word for this situation, but Tenma...” The director leaned in to whisper something into Tenma’s ear. Immediately the teen star glanced over his shoulder and saw the state of his troupe mates and his stiff angered posture melted. Tenma silently nodded and sighed.

“I really fucked up this whole ‘troupe leader’ thing, didn’t I?”

“Kazu, your entire troupe is convinced that they've failed you in some way or another, especially Tenma-kun. He was so upset earlier that he actually started yelling at the director, like a real argument and not his usual antics. They want to help you more than anything else, and the entire company feels the same way. This isn’t because they want they want you to go back to how you were, its because you’re in pain and they want to help you. Whether that means that you stop putting on that mask entirely, or just start by learning not to rely on it too much, I know they'll be willing to support you no matter what you decide to do, so long as you’re beginning to get better.”

“I’m here too, if you ever want to talk to somebody who gets it a little better. It's hard being yourself, and it's easy to hide so you won't get hurt when someone rejects you. I get that, Kazu, and I do it too sometimes. So, if you need to talk to someone outside of your Troupe, and maybe even get advice on how to make them understand, I’m here too.”

“Kazu, you’ve got so many people waiting for you at home who want to help you, all you have to do is open up and let them. Try and help them understand, and let them do the rest. That’s all you can do, and I guarantee you, that nobody will be upset if you admit that you’re only human, that you can't be happy all the time. Nobody in the troupe has ever expected that of you, even if they’ve gotten used to your antics, they won't judge you for the fact that you can’t keep them up. The only thing, that you have to decide to do for them to accept you as you are, is to explain this to them. That’s all, and nobody can take that first step other than you.” Taichi said seriously.

“I also happen to know how hard it is to take that first step, by yourself. I had Omi to help me along, he pushed me to tell the others what I’d done, even when I was convinced they could never forgive me, and even that I didn't deserve to be forgiven. He’s the one that helped me take that first step, and I’d like to do that too, for you.” Taichi looked up at the sky which was rapidly changing to a much brighter shade of blue.

“The others will probably wake up again soon, if we head back now, we might catch them before they leave the dorm again. Please, let me take you home, so we can talk to your troupe mates and sort this all out. I know that probably sounds impossible right now, but I know you can do it, and I’ll be right by your side while you do it. So, what do you say?”

Kazunari sighed shakily and nodded, looking absolutely exhausted. “I think I can do it, if it's just my troupe and you I think I can try and explain all of this. I just hope they understand.”

Taichi grinned brightly, feeling a wash of relief rush over him. “Really?! Wow, thank you for trusting me Kazu!” He let out a short bark of laughter. “I’ll be honest, was really floundering there for a while. I didn't know what so say at all, I’m so glad I didn’t make things even worse...” Taichi let out a sigh of relief. “Sorry about that, I ended up just spewing my feelings all over you there....”

“You said all the right things Tai-chan, at least I think so. I feel a lot better, if you'll really be with me I think I can manage this. Even if I still don't know if this’ll turn out alright, I'm going to trust your judgement over mine on this one, because clearly my judgement is all out of wack, today...”. Kazunari paused and shook his head to himself. “Actually my judgment has been out of commission for a while now, I think. The point is, I cant really trust myself right now, so I'm going to trust you, ok?” Kazunari’s voice was a bit shaky, but he put some effort into sounding reassuring for Taichi’s sake.

———————— ok POV switch heh

Taichi blinked and stared blankly at Kazunari for a solid minute before he seemed to gather himself, the words finally having settled in. With a mighty sniff Taichi wiped his eyes and dashed away the tears that hadn’t even had the chance to fall. “Thanks Kazunari, that means a lot. I won’t let you down, I promise.” Taichi grinned brightly, his voice gaining a steelly determination behind it. Taichi then, handed Kazunari the umbrella to hold and turned to pull something from the backpack he’d been carrying. Kazunari stared as Taichi placed a thick plastic poncho on his lap and a large thurmace in his other hand and took the umbrella from Kazunari once again.

“You actually managed to run pretty far away from the dorm, so you should put that poncho on, and there’s hot cocoa that Omi made in there. Even if you don’t want to drink it, just open it and hold it. At least the heat will warm you up a bit.” Taichi said, and he almost sounded like director, the way he was fussing over him.

Kazunari was certain that his cheeks were flushed red, but he was equally sure that was only because he was freezing. It definitely wasn’t because he was embarrassed or anything.

“Hey do you want me to call us a ride? I think that might be better than walking all the way back. Plus, it’ll give them a heads up so nobody leaves to look for us.” Taichi asked, and Kazunari almost immediately shook his head.

“I’m soaked to the bone and I seriously don’t need a lecture from Sakyo for ruining the apoulstry of his car, right now.” Kazunari laughed at his own joke, too bad the joke was too close to the truth. He really didn’t want to soak up and ruin anyone’s car by getting inside it the way he was.

Taichi’s smile wavered, he didn’t laugh. Then he took out his phone and was engrossed in typing for a minute, before Kazu realized what he was doing. He propped himself up against the wall and stood, and was shocked to see how hard it was to do so. His vision almost immediately started blurring and darkening as Kazunari leaned against the wall for support.

“Hey, wait! I can walk I swear, don’t call anybody here, I’m fine!” Kazunari blurted just as he heard the message send.

“Sakyo isn’t the only adult in our troupe with a car, you know.” Taichi replied, a little softly. Then, he nervously tapped his foot for a moment before he made eye contact with Kazu again, and spoke. “You said that you were going to trust me earlier, didn’t you? You can’t get all the way home like you are now, and unfortunately, I’m not strong enough to carry you all the way back.”

Kazunari blinked, and sighed.

He did ask for this after all.

He however, refused to sit down. He was gonna lean right against that wall until the ride came, whoever they were. That thought didn’t last more than five minutes though. Kazunari blinked furiously to clear the spots from his vision to no avail. Then, sighed in defeat and leaned against the wall to slide back down to the asphalt.

Taichi gave him a concerned look and Kazunari tried to ignore it, it was just then he was saved by the appearance of a vehicle, and almost immediately Kazu recognized it as Itaru’s. The car parked and Itaru opened got out of the car to join them.

Kazunari had to look away, because a part of him still couldn’t stand the wave of guilt when he saw the worry in his gaze. So, he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Thanks, Itaru, for coming to pick us up.” Taichi said extra cheerily, though there was a dash of genuine grstitude hidden in there.

“It’s no problem. I’m glad you asked me, the others were already waking up and getting restless. They were almost about to start searching for you again when you texted me.” Itaru said with a wan smile of his own. “So, let’s get you two back to the dorm. Do you need a hand there Kazunari?”

“Nah’ I’m fi-“. Kazunari was about to say when Taichi pulled him up and propped him up.

“Yeah, Kazu, my buddy, nobody is gonna fall for that.”

“Alright, ok!” Kazunari sighed, and said “I’m super woozy and can barely stand up, yes I’d love some help.” He was too tired to keep up with this. Let the others do what they want, he’s taking a nap when he gets in that car.

Kazunari could hear Itaru let out a relieved chuckle, Taichi did the same not long afterward. When did he close his eyes?

“Happy to help, then.” Itaru idly commented as Kazu heard a car door open, he was gently shuffled into what he assumed was the back seat and his head was definitely resting on Taichi’s shoulder.

Someone strapped his seatbelt on, he assumed it was Taichi, and he heard the drivers door open and admit someone as well, probably Itaru getting in.

Kazunari was definitely getting sleepy and the last thing he remembered hearing, he wasn’t even sure he was dreaming yet or not. But the last thing be remembered hearing, was Taichi whisper.

“Sleep well, everything will turn out ok, I promise it will.”

82 notes · View notes

omgrachwrites · 4 years

Text

Tell a Tale of You and Me - Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You knew that making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the devil but you just couldn’t help yourself. You had never been a heavenly woman.

Warnings: angst, fluff, pining

Words: 2527

Disclaimer: These gifs don’t belong to me!

A/N: How are we on chapter thirteen already?! I think I said this in my last post but I’m going to be writing a Remus fic that will connect to this one, I want to make these fics into a little series. My Remus fic will still be a reader insert but she’ll just have a proper name otherwise it will be so confusing with loads of Y/N’s running around so I hope that’s okay! I hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

Chapter Thirteen

Everyone – absolutely everyone – knew that Sirius and Y/N were at odds with one another, even if Sirius and Y/N didn’t know them personally; random people somehow knew that something was going on. Even the first years who had never spoken a word to either of them knew that something bad was happening because they’d watch Sirius joke and grin with his friends in the castle corridors, only for his grin to drop a moment later.

Whereas, McGonagall knew that something was wrong because Sirius had been unusually quiet in her class and he no longer exchanged wistful looks with Y/N from across the classroom. McGonagall missed his bold personality and even his incessant annoying pranks. She hoped that he’d be back to his usual self soon.

Sirius chewed his lip as he fiddled with the fanged Frisbee he was holding, scowling down at it when he felt it bite him and he slammed it right back onto the shelf in a huff. He didn’t think that he wanted it after all, “what did that poor Frisbee ever do to you Pads?” Peter smirked and Sirius narrowed his stormy eyes at his friend before turning to speak to James.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how much does Lily hate my guts right now?” Sirius didn’t want to cause a rift in his best mate’s relationship. He didn’t want to screw anything else up; he just wanted a quiet year from now on.

James sighed as he turned away from the display of nose biting teacups, “she doesn’t hate you mate, I think that she’s just disappointed,” Sirius winced, on second thought he would rather it if Lily hated our guts, “you have to understand Pads, Lily and Y/N have been best friends since our very first day at Hogwarts. Remember how inseparable they were by Halloween? She’d pick Y/N over anybody. I honestly wouldn’t worry about it too much; the boys and I are all on your side. You don’t have to work things out before you’re ready.”

Sirius looked up at the rest of his friends to see if they were of a same mind as James, Remus chewed his lip and immediately walked up to the counter to buy his items. Though, Remus needn’t bother trying to hide it, Sirius knew that Remus disapproved of the way he’d handled things.

However, Peter piped up which surprised Sirius, “yeah, we are on your side, Y/N could have at least told you about the fact she wanted to date your brother.”

It still caused Sirius a painful pang when he thought about Y/N – his Y/N – with Regulus. He looked outside, out of the rain streaked window, biting his lip when Lily and Y/N walked out of Honeydukes, munching on their sweets. Sirius wondered how sweet Y/N’s lips were with the sugar that was undeniably coating them.

“Be honest,” he started, turning back to his friends, “do you think that Reg and Y/N are properly going out?” he almost didn’t want to know the answer. But, he supposed that he couldn’t feel any worse than he already did.

James and Peter exchanged nervous looks, “well, I think if they were properly and seriously going out then they’d be walking down the corridor holding hands and they’d be snogging in The Great Hall like Lily and I do,” James chuckled before he got serious and he rested his hand on Sirius’ shoulder, “I know that I said that you didn’t have to work things out before you were ready but maybe you just need to shelve your pride and tell her how you really feel before she does get with Regulus for real. The problem is that you two are way too stubborn.”

Sirius rolled his eyes as he groaned internally, he didn’t want to lose his pride but he also knew that James was right. In these sorts of situations he was always right. The boys paid for their Zonkos’ products before they left the warm shop to join Y/N and Lily in the rainy country lane. Sirius made sure to keep a couple of paces behind.

A couple of days later, Sirius walked across the wet muddy lawn after dinner to meet James, he looked up with a groan at the dark sky that was threatening to pour down again and the air stank of wet grass. With the last two Quidditch matches looming James had become more frantic with his Quidditch practises; he wanted to win the Quidditch cup one last time. James had started scheduling them in the evening now as well as keeping his usual morning practises.

Sirius nodded in greeting as he noticed that James was walking up the hill, he was spattered with mud and Y/N was at his side, they both looked miserable. When Y/N looked up and saw Sirius, her eyes turned hard and cold and she brushed past James without saying goodbye to him. Sirius opened his mouth to say something to the pretty girl but she was already long gone. He turned back to James and saw that his usual warm and kind eyes were angry, “what’s the matter?”

James huffed angrily before prodding Sirius in the chest hard, “you need to make things right with Y/N, and soon. Because I need my amazing seeker back,” he grimaced at Sirius before storming ahead, leaving Sirius in the mud, he was utterly speechless.

Thankfully, by the time that Sirius had got himself up to the warm and mercifully dry common room, James seemed to have calmed down, he wondered whether it had something to do with Lily running her fingers through James’ hair. James gave Sirius an apologetic look as Sirius sank into the plush couch next to him, “sorry mate, practise has been so bad lately and I’m just so frustrated, I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“It’s fine, honestly. I think you were right to have a go,” Sirius smiled, he wasn’t going to hold a grudge against his best friend because of one stupid comment said in a moment of anger.

Later on that evening, the marauders were finally getting to work on that dreaded Potions essay that was due in the morning; however, Remus had already completed it somehow. Peter was going on about asking Evelyn out properly, she had gone to The Yule Ball with him in the end, “like what if she rejects me? James, did you ever feel this way before asking Lily out?”

Before James could reply, Sirius interjected loudly, “I wouldn’t if I were you Wormtail, when you show your feelings to someone, you only get stabbed in the back,” he didn’t know what made him say it, maybe his feelings had been bottled up inside him for too long.

A hushing silence fell over the common room as Gryffindor students looked between Y/N and Sirius as they waited for Y/N’s answer. It seemed like the whole room was holding its breath. Y/N glanced up from where she was sitting with Alice and she blinked with a confused expression etched upon her face. In a matter of seconds her face warped from an expression of polite confusion to an expression of rage as she angrily threw her quill down on her parchment, splotching ink everywhere. Sirius half expected to see steam billowing from her ears.

“Oh, would you just stop it? So what, your feelings got hurt, mine have too! But why do you have to make everything so much worse? Would you like to know why I took Regulus to The Yule Ball and why I’ve been spending so much time with him?”

“Enlighten me, Y/L/N,” Sirius smirked as he raised an eyebrow as he leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms behind his head. He couldn’t wait to hear her explanation.

“Y/N, don’t do this, think about who’s watching,” Lily warned but Y/N didn’t abide by her words.

“No Lily! He wants to know so I’ll tell him,” she narrowed her eyes as she walked over to stand before him and Sirius waited with bated breath, “your hag of a mother and my mum – the traitor – have taken it upon themselves to set me and Regulus up. For marriage, and you know what your mum is like when things don’t go her way, she’ll make my family’s life a living hell. The wedding is scheduled for Midsummer which is why I’ve been spending so much time with your brother. I don’t want to hate my future husband Sirius. What else do you expect me to do? I’m doing the best that I can,” her voice broke and those beautiful blue eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

Sirius felt his stomach lurch unpleasantly as his eyes stung, he felt completely awful; he’d made such a huge mistake. He should have known that something else was going on, he should have just been an adult and asked her. The last thing he wanted was for Y/N to become his sister in law. Not when he was completely crazy about her. He knew that he owed her a massive apology, he’d said some really awful things, they both had.

“Y/N, I,” he sighed, at a loss for words. What could he possible say other than he was sorry? Y/N sniffled and looked away from him.

“Good talk Sirius,” she mumbled before crossing the room and she climbed out of the portrait hole. Sirius couldn’t let her go like this; he quickly stood up, not caring that the majority of Gryffindor were watching this scene unfold. He had to go after her to let her know how sorry he was. He had to let her know that he didn’t mean all those horrible things that he’d said.

However, Lily’s words stopped him before he could reach the portrait hole, “Sirius don’t, I’m sorry but I think that it’s too late.”

————————————–

You grinned happily as Alice positively gushed about her boyfriend Frank, they could compete against James and Lily for Hogwarts’ cutest couple. It was very clear that Alice was very much in love and you knew that they would go the distance. At first, Alice wouldn’t talk about her happy love life because she didn’t want to upset you but you had quickly explained to her that it was absolutely fine. You didn’t want her to censor the conversation purely for your benefit.

Despite everything that had occurred over the last few days you were feeling pretty happy and positive. It was a beautiful day sunny day and you had managed to ignore Sirius – and how beautiful he looked with slightly shorter hair. He knew the truth now and you thought that he knew how you felt; the ball was in his court now so you hadn’t worried about it too much.

You checked the time on your watch and saw that there was about twenty more minutes of lunchtime left, if you were going to help Remus then it needed to be now, “I’ll see you guys later, okay?” you grinned, feeling pretty excited.

“Bye Y/N,” Lily pulled you into a warm hug and Alice blew you a kiss.

“See you later honey.”

You smiled at your friends and wandered over to the Slytherin table, “hey, Reg?” you smiled sweetly as he greeted you with a kiss on your cheek; he was so adorable, “have you seen Morgana?”

He frowned at your question and you ignored how much he looked like Sirus when he did that, “I think she said she was going to the library. Why do you want to know Y/N?” he narrowed his eyes suspiciously and you laughed.

“Don’t look at me like that, I only want to talk to her,” you offered him a small wave and an apologetic smile as you hurried off in the direction of the library.

You navigated the extremely busy library with some difficulty and you smiled, with the amount of people in this one room it was surely pissing Madam Pince off. That thought made you happy. Eventually, you found Morgana at the back of the library with her head stuck in a book, you nervously approached her table. You didn’t know how she was going to react when she saw you, “Morgana?”

At the sound of her name she looked up and quirked a beautifully arched eyebrow, “Y/N. What do you want?” she drawled and rolled her eyes as she closed her book and she gestured for you to sit down in the free seat.

“We need to talk about Remus,” you said as you sat down, at the mention of Remus’ name, her whole demeanour changed. Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink colour as she looked at the table before looking up at you almost shyly. It was a good look for her.

“What about him?”

“I need to know how you feel about him,” you started, your protective instincts kicking in, “he’s my best friend, he’s been there for me and I’ve been there for him. He likes you and I really don’t want to see him get hurt.”

Morgana sighed and chewed her lip as she fiddled with her fingers, “Y/N, I know that you don’t like me and you have every reason to be suspicious of me. I have a hard time truly opening up to people but with Remus, it’s just so easy, he makes it so easy. He’s been so amazing, so patient when I did nothing but push him away. It’s so different being with him, different in a good way. It feels more than sex; I want it to be more than sex. He makes me want to be a better person Y/N, I would never hurt him, please believe me. But there’s something you don’t know, and I’m not sure that I deserve him,” she seemed so sincere and you were glad to see this side of her.

She was incredibly human and you couldn’t help but believe her, Remus usually had a good judgement of people, “if you’re not going to hurt him then I’ll say that you more than deserve him. I believe you Morgana, why don’t you ask him out?” you liked playing cupid, it was fun.

Morgana looked away from you and wrapped her arms around herself, “oh, I couldn’t,” she hesitated before looking at you warily, “you’re going out with Regulus right? Would you be interested in a double date?”

You didn’t bother to properly correct her about Regulus, “yes, if that would make you more comfortable,” you sighed wondering whether you were playing with fire.

“Thanks Y/N,” she smiled.

After your talk with Morgana you made your way to Potions and grinned at Remus but before you could tell him the good news you noticed that Sirius was gazing at you. His stormy grey eyes were wary and vulnerable, and when he spoke to you it was in a civilised tone that you hadn’t heard in so long.

“Y/N, I think that we need to talk.”

You nodded at him, this was either going to be a very good thing or a very bad thing, “yes I suppose that we do.”

————————————–

@approved-by-dentists @thefuturelawyer @a-miserable-hufflepunk @firelordmillie @seriouslysiriuss @sleep-i-ness @play-morezeppelin @pregnant-piggy @sleepingalaska @smiithys @blisfvll @rexorangecouny @findzelda @wangmangagavroche @the-moon-and-the-book @hxrgreeves @ghostofstudentspast @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @my-unique-mind @im-an-angel-of-the-lord-you-ass @acciovisio @obsessedwithrandomthings @kashishwrites

125 notes · View notes

adorethedistance · 4 years

Text

Artist!Harry Styles x Reader part 3

Part two here.

A/n: Let me just preface this part with the fact that writing this physically hurt me. I wanted to write more but I just feel like this ended exactly where it needed to, and that’s a feeling I just can’t ignore. This one is somehow much sadder than the other two which is a fat ouch and I apologize in advance for any broken hearts.

Words: 1455

“Would you like a tea or coffee?” Harry offers from the kitchen as I stand by the front door to take off my shoes. The house smells of the familiar waikiki beach coconut wall plug-in I bought him this past week, and I can tell from the entrance that he’s cleaned up the place.

“Sure,” I call back fully aware of the fact that that was not a yes or no question. As I round the corner to the kitchen I hear him giggle softly; he’s quiet so as to prevent me from hearing his laughter. My favorite mug, themed Elvis’ ‘Viva Las Vegas’, sits untouched on the dish drying rack. Harry may have cleaned the kitchen but my cup is still exactly where I left it ereyesterday.

He’s already begun making my drink and I can see a new box, sporting my favorite brand’s logo, is settled on the counter next to his Keurig.

“Hey, how come your parents didn’t just name you Harold?” he seems taken aback by my question but answers once he sets the full mug in front of me.

“I don’t know, why didn’t your parents name you Sharon?”

“I guess they didn’t like the name very much.” “Well, there’s your answer.” We’re sitting on the barstools of his kitchen island across the corner from one another, almost in the dark due to the gloomy London sky outside being our only light source. Harry’s got his right palm tucked underneath his chin whilst lazily watching me drink from my, but actually his, mug.

“You’re not gonna have anything to drink?” He shakes his head,

“No, maybe later,” and continues to stare at me with a fond expression. I hardly ever know what he’s thinking about, just how he’s feeling about what he’s thinking.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“What’s your idea of a perfect proposal?” The question makes me choke on my drink, which sends Harry into a full on laughing fit; as a means to make amends, he grabs a napkin to help clean up the spilt liquid.

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Oh, shut up- I’m serious!�� Now it’s my turn to laugh at his flustered demeanor. This doesn’t seem like small talk. It seems like he actually wants to know.

“I haven’t thought about it much, but…” I excitedly wrap both of my hands around my cup, absorbing it’s warmth, “The perfect proposal… is extravagant. I don’t mean fireworks and a bunch of adoring family members, but a grand gesture of sorts- and that means that whoever is proposing starts traditional. Down on one knee, a big speech about all the things he loves about me, and why he wants to marry me-”

“That doesn’t sound that extravagant.”

“I’m not done yet. The extravagant part is that we’re surrounded by thousands of red roses, and he’s got the most expensive champagne that money can buy, on ice for when I say yes.” When I finish, Harry seems amused with my event planning skills.

“For when you say yes?”

“If this man in question bought three thousand dollars worth of roses and dropped a couple hundred on the champagne, I’d have no choice but to say yes.”

Harry laughs wholesomely, with his head tossed back and his eyes cinched closed.

“What about the ring?”

“I wanna pick out my own ring so it’d just be best if the proposal happened without one.”

Irony is not my friend, as demonstrated in the memory of a conversation Harry and I shared exactly one week before he had agreed to do Camile’s portrait. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he didn’t want to marry me… did he? Not that it matters now. He has yet to apologize but I get the feeling that’s what’s coming in our ‘talk’ that’s scheduled to happen as soon as I get to his flat.

I don’t even know why I’m going really. I should just turn the other cheek and trudge forward without him in my life.

But my heart won’t let me do that. No matter how much my head wants to.

Heading over now.

I’m so tense and in my own head that I completely forgot to turn music on the entire car ride to his place.

Parked in its usual spot is Harry’s grey hybrid, which probably means he’s seen me arrive since he likes to watch cars from his window. Congrats, Y/n, it is officially too late to turn around.

Slamming the car door, I take inventory of my keys and phone. Do I need anything else? Whatever. Stop stalling. I’m a capable adult who can handle adult conversations.

Before I can speak a word into the intercom, Harry has already buzzed me in the complex’s gate. The buzzing of the mechanism is much more ominous now that I know I can’t turn back; I wish the elevator would break down or something.

The all too familiar bing of the lift doors seals my fate as I approach his front door. Am I making a mistake? I ask myself as I knock feebly on the wooden door in front of me. It was so quiet I thought he didn’t hear but then I heard the sliding of the lock in the latch, and knew he had been waiting by the door for my arrival.

“Y/n.” Why does he sound surprised?

“Hi.”

“Look, that was a really shitty thing of you to do-”

“Do you want to talk about this inside?”

“No-”

“Y/n. Please.” I guess I could at least do him the service of leaving his neighbors out of this conversation, so I hesitantly agree. Relief overwhelms him and he offers me his hand to take.

Harry’s hands are always really warm which I’m usually grateful for in the cold winters. But now it seems wrong. Something feels out of place between us, when all we’re doing is holding hands. Which makes me realize this conversation is going to be a lot tougher that I’d hoped.

After closing the door behind us, Harry leads me to his sitting area, his hand still in mine.

He sits me down in my normal couch spot but doesn’t sit down next to me. Confused at first, I follow his movement to see he’s already prepared my favorite drink and it’s sitting on the kitchen counter. He retrieves it silently, and once he’s back, he practically shoves the mug into my hands.

Elvis.

Instead of sitting on the loveseat perpendicular to the couch I’m perched on, Harry takes his place on the carpeted floor, facing the couch, with his back pressed against his antique coffee table. He’s sitting like a contemporary dancer with one leg bent and pressed flat to the floor, with the other leg bent over it with his foot flat on the ground. Must be a new habit, courtesy of the modern dance class he’s taking this semester.

“Can I talk first?” Realizing I don’t want him to curate an apology based on whatever grievances I’m armed with, I choose to let him go first.

“Okay.”

“I want you to know how sorry I am.” I can’t help the humorless scoff that escapes my mouth at his stellar opening. “At first, I couldn’t understand why you were upset, because then, I didn’t see it as a complete violation of your trust-which it was! And I am so,” he crawls forward to sit on his knees in front of me with his palms facing up in his lap, “so sorry that I had ever even considered to turn to an ex of all people for that project.”

Looking up from the lip gloss stain on the rim of the mug, I see Harry’s head is hung in the guiltiest expression of shame I’ve ever seen.

“Thank you for apologising, but I just don’t know if I can bring myself to trust you so quickly after the fact-” before I can finish Harry lifts his head to reveal an onslaught of tear tracks down his creamy complexion. Seeing his face in such agony is the final hit that breaks down the walls of my cold exterior. I reach behind him to set my half empty mug on the table before taking his face in both of my hands to wipe away the tears. He sniffles once before holding both of my hands against his face and pressing a kiss to each palm.

“I know it can’t be easy, Y/n. All I’m asking is that you give me the chance to earn your trust again. I…” overcome with sorrow, Harry then throws himself forward and lays his head in my lap, a few desperate sobs wracking through his pained figure.

“I love you.”

***

135 notes · View notes

fanfics-andstuff · 3 years

Text

Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf

1755-01-11: Olivia and Alexander Hamilton’s Birth - Olivia and Alexander were born in Charlestown, St. Kitts, and Nevis.

1765-01-16: Hamilton’s Father Left - James Hamilton, Olivia and Alexander Hamilton's father, and a Scottish Laird, left Hamilton and his family, most likely due to the fact, Olivia, Alexander, and James Jr. were his illegitimate children. It was a relief for the children because he would always beat up James Jr. and Olivia, trying to protect their youngest sibling.

1766-02-17: Hamilton’s Mother Dies - Rachel Faucette Buck, Hamilton's mother, died on February 19, 1768. Cause of death: Yellow Fever. After her death, Alexander and Olivia moved to live with their cousin for a year. Before she died, she gave Olivia the Hamilton ring (gold ring, amethyst pearl-shaped center, and small emerald cut emeralds) that was said to be passed down from generation to generation and a navy blue and dark purple diary, she gave Alexander her necklace from George (5 sapphire petals, a red ruby center, and a thin gold chain).

1766-02-20: Hamiltons In Court - John Lavien (Rachel’s husband) arrived wanting a divorce decree. He wanted the court to reward the entire estate to his son, Peter because the twins were illegitimate. Alexander and Olivia had their uncle, James Lytton, sign a false birth year for court documents that had them add two years their senior. The only thing they got was books taken from Peter, thanks to their uncle.

1767-02-17: Hamilton’s Cousin Committed Suicide and James Jr. Left to Become a Carpenter- Peter Lytton committed suicide over the death of his wife. Alexander and Olivia are now, with no money and family, or destitute orphans. James Jr had to leave the twins behind to become an apprentice of a carpenter.

1771-01-16: Alexander In Charge Of A Trading Charter - Since girls couldn’t work, Alexander had to. Turns out, that Alexander had the perfect “age” for jobs.

1772-08-31: Hurricane Maria Hits - Hurricane Maria hit St. Croix, where Alexander was working and Olivia was nearby to look out for her younger brother.

1772-09-06: Alexander Writes About Hurricane Maria - Alexander wrote to his father describing the storm and gained the attention of the island’s elite. He “wrote his way out”.

1772-12-01: Olivia Receives a Letter That Alexander Died - Somewhere between these months, Olivia gets a letter that the ship Alexander was on sunk and there were no survivors. She was then sold to a family in Setauket, Long Island as a slave, where she meets Benjamin Tallmadge, Anna Smith, Abraham Woodhull, and Caleb Brewster.

1776-09-15: Olivia Gets Freed - Thankfully Olivia was considered white, so she was taught how to improve her grammar, writing, healing, cooking, etc. She still had her Nevis accent, but Olivia could play it off by saying Spanish was her native language. Speaking of languages, Olivia was fluent in French, Latin, Greek, Italian, Danish, and Hebrew. 4 or so years later, Olivia was a free woman.

1777-04-27: Olivia Reunites With Alexander - Olivia gets assigned as a spy for the continental army. The rest of the army gets word that she had the same last name as Alexander’s. After being reintroduced to each other, Olivia forces Alexander to take more care of himself (eating, sleeping).

1777-09-11: Olivia gets shot in the side during the Battle of Brandywine.

1777-10-18: Olivia And Alexander Presumed Dead - Both Hamilton twins jumped in the Schuylkill River and swam deeper, hoping the British Cavalry presumed them dead. They were washed down miles going with the current of the river. Alexander carried her unconscious body to the Patriot camp. Hercules Mulligan found the twins and helped them get to their destination quicker.

1777-10-19: Washington Finds Out The Twins Are His - Olivia woke first and told Washington to read her diary for answers because she was too tired. He found out about Olivia’s life story and found out Olivia Rachel and Alexander James Hamilton were his biological children. Washington then found out about the Hamilton family ring and Rachel’s flower necklace. Olivia and Washington swore to never tell this to Alexander and to any human being (not a certain diary written in code that no one, but Olivia and Alexander can understand).

1777-10-20: Olivia sneaks off to the Battle of Paoli, instead of resting.

1777-10-21: The Locket - Washington gave Olivia a gold locket engraved with ‘Together In Mount Vernon, Virginia’ complete with a gold chain. Inside was a portrait of the Hamilsiblings (Alex, Olivia, Ben, and Laf) on the right and a portrait of the Washington couple on the left.

1778-05-25: Olivia Comes Back - After disguising herself as a black-haired, Dutch woman, named Denise Melody, she returned to Washington about the British army. Olivia resigned as a spy because she didn’t want to come back to England ever again. But mostly, she was afraid that King George III would force her to marry him.

1778-05-26: Olivia Becomes The First Woman General - After listening from every soldier in the Continental Army, General George Washington makes Olivia a General. The only difference is that she would be traveling with the main camp because she doesn't have enough experience to lead her own army. She helped train the under-trained soldiers, sewed clothes for those who were practically naked, negotiated with wealthy families to give the army food, helped with the battle plans because of her knowledge as a spy, and her overall kindness and empathy to everyone helped her rise to the top to not only the soldiers but to the rest of the people in the Colonies.

1778-06-28: The Battle of Monmouth - Olivia saves Benjamin Tallmadge from William Bradford when Charles Lee ordered him to. The rest of the army arrives behind Washington. Olivia participates in the Battle of Monmouth.

1778-09-15: Olivia And Lafayette’s Relationship - In Olivia’s diary, she didn’t specify the date because she wrote “I believe it is the 15th of September 1778”. In the entry, she wrote about her and Lafayette’s relationship began as platonic but over time, it became romantic.

1778-11-01: Olivia Joins The Culper Ring - After begging and pleading to her father and Commander in Chief, Olivia joins the Culper Spy Ring with the rest of the members: Benjamin Tallmadge, Caleb Brewster, Anna Strong, Abigail, Abraham Woodhull, and Robert Townsend. Olivia gets a golden band from Apollo that helps disguise her appearance with the use of the mist, she gives the other rings to the other members. They created a cover that the golden rings were from their deceased family member. In reality, they used it to signal the others when they need help or have information about the British.

1778-12-15: Olivia As a Maid - Olivia disguises herself as a beaten and branded girl as a Caribbean slave, even though she was white by the Continental Army to John André's home to spy on him. She later resigns from her post before her next battle.

1779-07-16: Stony Point - Olivia helps capture Stony Point, New York with the army.

1779-11-17: Olivia And John Get Married - To keep the relationship between John and Alexander less suspicious, Olivia proposed a marriage proposal to John’s father; Henry, who knew about their secret relationship, agreed. Even though both adults were married, they had no love for the other than familial love. They agreed that their marriage was only public and behind closed doors, they would seek out their paramour (John-Alexander and Olivia-Lafayette).

1780-06-17: Olivia’s Quadruplets - 9 months later, Olivia gave birth to 4 children: Rachel Olivia, Alexander John, George Benjamin, and Elizabeth Gilberta Laurens from oldest to youngest. The godparents of each child were Olivia-Martha Washington, Alexander-George Washington, George-Benjamin Tallmadge, and Elizabeth-Lafayette. Because of this, Olivia took a break from the army for a while.

1780-09-23: Caleb Brewster and Olivia Find Out Arnold's A Traitor - After talking with Anna Strong, Brewster and Olivia ride full speed towards West Point, NY to deliver the message to George Washington. Ben and Olivia tried to shoot Arnold, but due to their closeness, they couldn't.

1780-10-02: John André Hanged - André was born a child of Athena and knew about the Greek Gods. He knew that Olivia was spying on him, but didn't comment on it until they were in private before his execution. The Fates had cut his string in front of him when Olivia posed as a maid and had demigod dreams of his death. John knew that Olivia was a legacy of Apollo and Athena, he didn't want to hurt his family.

1780-12-14: Alexander and Eliza Get Married - Eliza accepted John’s relationship with her husband as long as Alexander doesn’t cheat on her with other women.

1780-12-15: Olivia Boards L'Hermione - Olivia joins Lafayette to bring down turncoat Benedict Arnold. They join 1, 200 troops and sail south to Virginia.

1781-05-20: Abraham Boards L'Hermione - Abraham gets captured by the French and gave information to Lafayette, but before anything else happens, the ship gets attacked by cannons. When Brewster and Olivia identify Abraham as a spy for the Culper Ring named Samuel Culper Sr, they sail to Yorktown, Virginia.

1781-09-28: The Battle Of Yorktown - Olivia gets shot 3 times during the battle but recovered soon after. Lafayette soon bid Olivia farewell to sail back to France. Olivia gives him her very long lock of braided hair inside a portrait locket necklace of her for him to remember her by. He also gives her a braided lock of his hair and a portrait locket of himself.

1782-01-22: Olivia Becomes An Aunt - Phillip Hamilton was born.

1782-08-27: John Laurens Dies - Olivia, Alexander, Hercules, and Lafayette get letters from Henry Laurens that John died in South Carolina. In her letter, Olivia receives her husband’s wedding ring. Heartbroken, Olivia vows to never marry again.

1782-09-01: Olivia And Alexander Return To New York - Olivia gets a house in Harlem near her brother and his family. She led a quiet life with her children, unlike Alexander, for a while.

1783-01-01: Olivia Bids Angelica Farewell - Over the course of the years, Olivia and Angelica became best friends. She hated the fact that Angelica and her family would go back to the same country they fought for years.

1783-06-20: Pennsylvania Mutiny - Olivia watches the 10 leaders of the Pennsylvania Mutiny be gunned down by their own men beside Alexander and Ben.

1783-09-03: The End Of The Revolution - The Treaty of Paris was finally signed which negotiated between America and Great Britain, ended the revolution, and recognized America as an independent.

1787-10-?: Alexander Asks Olivia To Co-Write The Federalist Papers - Sometime before the writing of the Federalist Papers, Alexander asks Olivia to co-write it with John Jay, James Madison, and himself. Olivia politely declined because she believed that the three men could do it without her.

1787-05-25: The Twins Go To The Constitutional Convention - Olivia Hamilton Laurens and Alexander Hamilton were one-half of the New York delegates. The former was the only woman to go to the Constitutional Convention. Though the twins did little in writing the Constitution, they signed the paper anyway.

1789-02-04: Olivia Becomes The First Woman Vice President - Olivia ran for President all in good fun. The results were unanimous because she was one of the contributing factors that helped America become independent, only second to George Washington, and became the Vice President of the United States.

1790-03-22: Olivia Meets Thomas Jefferson - When Jefferson and Olivia met, let’s just say that they will forever be enemies. This is partly the reason why Alexander and Jefferson were also enemies.

1790-06-20: Olivia Refuses To Go To The Jefferson Dinner - Olivia doesn’t go to the dinner with Jefferson, Madison, Alexander, and a few others saying she had other things to do. But she doesn’t go because she didn’t want to be caught in the middle of a verbal fight between Alexander and Jefferson, again.

1791-07-05: Olivia Finds Out About Alexander’s Affair - Alexander needed to speak to someone about his affair with Maria Reynolds, so he went to Olivia (naturally). Olivia slaps him and tells him about his promise to Eliza when he married her. She tells him if her husband finds out and tells/writes you to give him money to keep the affair a secret, he himself would pay entirely.

1792-?-?: Olivia Receives Word About Lafayette’s Capture - Historians would never know the date when Olivia gets a letter that Lafayette fled from France and in prison because she only wrote the year and stopped writing in her diary for the rest of that year. They figured that she was extremely heartbroken to write.

1793-02-25: Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf - Olivia was poisoned by a loyalist named Micheal Key. Thankfully the poison was expired and went on to sit in Mount Vernon for hours talking about the establishment of the first U.S. bank. But due to Olivia’s frail and weak body for not eating and sleeping at the correct times, she became gravely ill. She sent her four children to Setauket with Abraham Woodhull. the week before. The four mentioned people came to her room in Mount Vernon. minutes before Olivia died. She gave Washington the locket he gave her all those years ago, gave Benjamin her sun hair comb he gave her when the war was over and her golden spy ring, gave Eliza her and John’s wedding rings and gave Alexander the Hamilton family ring and her diary (she instructed him to only read the entry about their true heritage when he is on his deathbed). She then instructed Ben to give Lafayette, her one true love, to give the gift he gave her when they started their relationship, a sapphire bracelet when he visits America once more. Olivia told the three to forgive her for leaving too early, she remembered the time she gave Washington piano lessons (which failed), the time where she forced Alexander to eat and sleep more regularly, and the time where she helped Eliza with her pregnancy with Phillip and her other children. She sang, “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf,” which she does when she tries to reassure those around her. Olivia’s last words were, “I’ll see all of you on the other side, John, my love, I’m coming.” She was buried in Trinity Church Cemetery with a large monument. When the States learned of her death, the nation stopped working for days. Everyone who knew her (which was a lot) attended the funeral ceremony. Washington placed a bronze statue of Olivia depicting her holding a gun in her right hand and her diary in her left hand with the four rings on her fingers to show that women too, can be powerful.

1793-02-26: Micheal Key Hanged - Because he assassinated the Vice President, Micheal John Key was hanged the next day at noon.

1867-01-11: Olivia On Currency - In memory of Olivia, they put her face on the $20 on her birthday. However, in 1928, she was briefly replaced by Andrew Jackson but quickly regained her place after much controversy.

1999-12-15: Olivia Becomes Lyria - Olivia Rachel Hamilton Laurens, rebirthed to Lyria Eclair Graham de Vanily, the most powerful demigoddess of her century.

#oliviarachelhamilton #Olivia Hamilton #Alexander Hamilton #turn amc #turn: washington's spies #I finally figured out how to do the read more link

7 notes · View notes

chicgeekgirl89 · 4 years

Text

No Regrets

Fandom: Harry Potter

Characters: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom

Summary: While on the most boring tour of Hogwarts in its history, Ron decides to fulfill a teenage dream. Written for the 2020 Romione Ficlet Fest for the prompt “Someone walks in on them at a bad time.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“As you can see, the artist used an exceptionally unique brushstroke and the restoration process took over six years.”

Ron stifled yet another yawn as the school governor droned on about the forty-fifth painting of the day. Merlin he regretted letting Hermione say yes to this invitation. He’d gotten the owl, he should have just chucked it in the bin or burned it up immediately to save them from this absolutely maddening tour of Hogwarts. He’d never found the castle boring, but then again, he’d never been taken on an historic art tour as part of a DA honors banquet either.

Ginny kept falling asleep on her feet, Harry nudging her with an amused expression every time she let out a little snore. Early on George had kept trying to get the portraits to swear, Angelina egging him on, much to the disgruntlement of their tour guide, but apparently even they had given up trying to make this evening more palatable.

“Now we will move to the fourth floor corridor where a number of suits of armor have just recently been donated from a wonderful donor.”

Ron surreptitiously checked his watch and nearly moaned aloud. They’d been at this for an hour and a half and so far the only person who didn’t seem to be in a complete stupor was Hermione. The DA members were all in their early twenties for crying out loud, not geriatric. Whoever had decided this should be the evening’s entertainment had clearly been misguided.

“Ron come on!” Hermione’s whisper pulled him from his mental misery and he realized the others had already turned the corner, just past a familiar door. An idea sparked in his mind and he acted before he could overthink it, giving Hermione’s hand a sharp tug and pulling her through the door into what he had indeed remembered correctly as a broom closet. “Ron what—?”

His lips captured hers, silencing her protest as he pressed her up against the wall. She responded automatically, arms coming up around his neck and he’d just begun to part her lips when she pulled away. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“Hermione, I have a lot of regrets from Hogwarts and the biggest one is that I never got to properly snog you in a broom closet,” he said.

Even in the dim light he could see her narrow her eyes in that oh-so-Hermione way. “That’s your biggest regret? Not that you let Peter Pettigrew sleep in your bed for years? Or that you ate those chocolates from Romilda? Or—”

“Like I said, I have many regrets. Most of them I can’t change, but this one…” He leaned forward and claimed her mouth once more, going a bit more aggressive this time to make sure she really understood his feelings. Again she kissed him back, body pressing into his until he moved to her neck and then began on the top button of her blouse.

“Ronald Weasley, this is completely inappropriate!” She hissed batting at his hands.

“Students do it all the time!”

“But we’re not students, we’re adults, we’re supposed to be on a tour—“

“Oh old Barmy Barney doesn’t care. He won’t even notice we’re gone.”

“You shouldn’t call him that,” Hermione admonished.

“You can’t tell me you were actually enjoying looking at all those awful paintings.”

“Some of them are quite old! They know loads about the school! And after the armor he was going to show us a new bust near the Hufflepuff common room.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Hermione, there’s only one bust in this castle I care about right now.” He slid his hands up her sides to make his point.

“We have a reception in twenty minutes,” she protested, but he noted with satisfaction that she leaned into him a bit more.

“Are you telling me,” he popped a second button, “that you never once thought about what might happen if we were alone in a broom closet together?”

“Of course not!” Hermione said, but her voice had gone high pitched in that way it did when she was lying, and she gasped a little as he nipped at her neck and undid another button.

Ron looked up at her and raised his eyebrows. “Well I thought about it. A lot. Every time we walked rounds as prefects.”

Another button. He was truly curious how far she was going to let him go. “Ron, we have to go to dinner,” she protested.

He leaned in close, breath warm on her ear. “I don’t see you trying to stop me. In fact,” he trailed a finger up her thigh and felt her shudder against him, “I think you’re enjoying this.”

She locked eyes with him and he knew immediately that he’d won. “Oh screw it,” she said, grabbing his face and kissing him soundly on the lips.

She jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and knocking over what was likely a mop handle, but Ron didn’t care. This was all of his teenage dreams, every fantasy he’d ever imagined late at night in his four poster bed, coming true.

She’d tugged his shirt out of his trousers and he was making incredibly quick work of the rest of her buttons; very impressive considering what their mouths were doing. He’d have to remind her of this the next time she teased him about his inability to multi-task.

There was a loud rap and the door opened, light from the corridor blinding them both. Hermione squealed and dropped to the floor as Ron shielded his eyes. “Hi,” said Neville, an amused expression on his face. “Next time you decide to have a shag in a broom closet, maybe cast a muffliato first. You’re scaring the first years.”

“Oh my god,” Hermione gasped, fumbling with her blouse.

“I trust you can find your way down to the great hall for the reception?” Neville asked.

“Yeah I think we can find it,” Ron said sourly.

“Brilliant. I’ll tell everyone to expect you in five minutes? Give you a second to get yourselves together?”

More like five minutes so he could go tell every other member of the DA who, no doubt, were waiting to find out where the Granger-Weasleys had disappeared to. “Thanks Neville!” Ron said loudly as he pulled the door shut again, eyes finding his wife who was tucking her blouse back into her skirt.

“I cannot believe this!” she said. “We step one foot back in the place and we’re in trouble again!”

“Could have been worse.”

She glared at him. “How could it have possibly been worse Ronald?”

“Well you could have been completely starkers. Or it could have been McGonagall.”

She bit her lip but he could tell she was fighting back a smile.

“It’s not like Neville can give us detention, even if he is a teacher.” He grabbed her around the waist with one hand, pulling her flush against him while he waved his wand with the other. “Muffliato.”

She gasped. “Ron what are you doing, we have to get to dinner—“

He grinned at her wickedly. “We’ve already been caught. We might as well finish what we started.”

#Ron/Hermione #Romione #First OTP #romioneficfest #2020 #No Regrets #Hogwarts #Harry Potter #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Ron/Hermione Fanfic

54 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #401

“my love is just waiting to turn your tears to roses”

Do you typically do your makeup the same each time? Or do you like to change it up often? IF I wear makeup, it's essentially always the same. Who is the last person you were in a room with just the two of you? What were you doing? Yesterday with Mom. We were trying to find the best deal on Eco Earth, a substrate we're getting for Venus. What was the last really good book you read, and what was it about? If we're talking REALLY good book, then The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. In short summary, it's a dystopian future novel where women are now basically just objects used only for repopulation, even having their names stripped from them. They follow very strict rules as society has returned to horrible misogyny. As a woman, the "oh my god, this is possible" aspect of it is terrifying, and it causes such a sense of disgust and urge to ensure women rights always continue to be fought for. Do you feel safe in your country? For the most part, I'd say. I guess. There are places I'd feel safer, though. How many meals do you eat a day? Three. Have you ever performed a solo dance in front of a crowd? No, but I was supposed to my senior year in high school; the seniors at my dance studio were always welcome to do a solo in celebration. Mine was a modern dance to "Coma White" by Marilyn Manson, wanting to tell a story about depression and how being medicated could feel, but I eventually decided like halfway through learning the choreography that I was just too nervous to do a solo. Have you ever sung a solo? No. When you go to McDonalds, what drink do you usually get? Coke. Have you ever had to call and complain about a product you bought? No. Do you own a designer purse? Definitely not. I'm not wasting that much money on something like that. What’s the weirdest rumor you’ve ever heard about yourself? Apparently, Jason and I had a baby in high school even though I was obviously never pregnant. To my knowledge, it was started by his ex. Who is now a good friend of mine lmaooo. Life is funny. What was your favorite Saturday morning cartoon growing up? Pokemon, of course. Would you ever have an affair? Nope. Would you ever have a one night stand? Nope. Where you present at any major historical events (e.g. 9/11)? No. What are your opinions on marijuana legalization? Legalize it, but treat it similarly to alcohol in that driving under the influence is illegal and punishable, and I believe you should be of a certain age. How about abortion? I am pro-choice. I was pro-life most of my own life, but now I am very firm about a mother being able to choose if she wants to endure a pregnancy or not. Like, that is a MASSIVE life event that almost inevitably changes - and sometimes traumatizes - people. I do believe a fetus is its own body and not part of the mother's, but rather in the mother's, but the belief that a woman decides what she wants in her body is her choice, too. I'm not very fond of people treating abortion as a simple, regular form of birth control, like it's nothing but an "lol whoops," but I still believe it is ultimately her decision, and she should always be free of judgment for doing what is best for her. Do you wear skirts or dresses more often? Neither. I wouldn't dare wear a skirt more so, though. What do you think about tipping at restaurants? There should always be an expected minimum, imo, unless the person was truly, sincerely, genuinely fucking awful. Waiters do not have an easy job, fight me about it, and they're just trying to survive while putting on a happy, jovial face, all the while dealing with hungry people who can be such assholes. I believe the actual tip should relate to actual service, but again, give them something. Would you ever get back together with any of your exes? One, absolutely. The other would take a shitload of consideration and proper communication on his part. Do you have a preferred coffee brand? No, because I don't like coffee. Do you usually befriend your coworkers, or do you prefer to keep work separate from your personal life? IF I had a job, I'd like to build a friendship with those I have to engage with almost every day. What is something you frequently forget? Dates, ages, names, what I was about to do five seconds before I forgot... Pretty much everything. My memory is frightfully poor. Is there any drama currently going on with your family? No. When you take a nap, do you nap in bed or on the couch? In my bed. Were you raised by both of your parents? If not, then who raised you? Both; my parents split when I was somewhere around 17, though, but I'd say there wasn't much more "raising" to do at that age. Have you ever stolen anything? If so, why? No. Have you ever plagiarized someone else's work? Hell no. What's your most-used mode of transportation? My mom's car. Have you ever taught someone else a useful skill? Not to my recollection. Does seeing everyone else's 'perfect lives' posted on social media ever bring you down or affect how you feel about yourself? It actually does, honestly. Not ALWAYS, but if I'm being honest, it does most of the time. I've contemplated deleting Facebook for that reason, but with is also comes things that make me happy, and I think I'd feel even more isolated without it. What is your favorite Hostess/Little Debbie snack? This is SO impossible for me to answer. I loooove Hostess and Little Debbie treats. I want to say honeybuns, but I also love those chocolate cupcakes with the white swirls on top, as well as Twinkies. Very few exist that I don't like. Do you/your family buy loafs from the bakery or bagged on the shelf? We just buy bagged bread. What’s the best news you’ve gotten lately? My APAP mask is definitively WORKING!!!!! :') Mom got an app that connects to the machine via Bluetooth that monitors the effectiveness of the mask, evaluating many factors of your sleep, and it's detecting a definite decrease in disruptive behaviors or something like that. It is so, SO encouraging to know that. ^And, the worst? Hm. Oh, probably some news on something serious a good friend is going through, but I don't feel it's my right to disclose what. It's just a very worrying and potentially dangerous issue that I wish I could help her with. Would you rather receive (or give) flowers, chocolates or jewelry? I'd appreciate any, but my fat ass is drawn to the chocolate, ha ha. What *I* would give would vary depending on what the person liked. How do you feel about coconut? Smells lovely, but is otherwise gross. ^ Ever cracked one open? No, but omg I've always wanted to, haha. What’s the best thing about being your gender? I guess the fact it's more "normal" and "accepted" to show our emotions. Fuck that generalization, though. I don't give a shit what your gender is, you experiencing emotions is NORMAL and welcomed to be expressed. ^ And the worst thing? The ability to be raped and impregnated by it. Do you do your part to save the earth? I don't do nearly enough. :/ We recycle, but that's about it. Well, none of us DARE to litter either, but I still don't feel like it's as much as the earth deserves from its denizens. Who do you think should have their portrait on a bill? I don't know or care. Why did you last feel exhausted? Yesterday was my niece's birthday, and I spent essentially ALL day playing with her and her brother. I have a very limited battery when it comes to kids, and I was running on empty for hours. My anxiety was SO high and I really needed a break from them, but they're too young to really understand that Aunt Britt can only socially run for so long before I'm completely burnt out, and TRUST ME, I was there for sure. I didn't want them to think they did something wrong, you know? I just had to keep going. I slept like a baby last night though for sure, haha. Have you ever used emotional blackmail to get your own way? Wow, no. Has anybody ever used emotional blackmail on you? No. Who did you last worry about and why? Sara for health reasons. Are you currently looking for a new place to live? Not actively, but Mom and I definitely want to move. We feel very out-of-place here in the suburbs. Which would you prefer as a view; mountains or the sea? Mountains. Do you have a mouse for your laptop? (Assuming you have a laptop) Yes. I canNOT play games with a trackpad. Do you apologize a lot? Extremely excessively. When you get married what do you think you’ll put most of your focus and money into? Do you mean like, for the wedding? In that case, probably the venue. Being a photography buff, I want a place I think is really pretty to have pictures taken. What’s something you complain about frequently? My legs hurting, my weight, and being hot. Do you have anything planned for the summer? Nope, and that's fine with me. I'd rather stay inside away from the heat. Who usually makes dinner in your household? My ma. Do you have a blog? Just on Tumblr. Does anyone in your family snore loudly? My mother does because of gerd, and at least when my father still lived with us, he snored super loud, too. Do you want to fix anything with anyone? Yeah, a few people. What shows do you watch? Right now, only Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Whenever The Edge of Sleep comes out, I will 110% be watching that, too, because Mark is a key actor in it. :') Plus the concept seems super cool. Have you ever broken someone’s heart? I don't know. Who was the last person you had a conversation with on the phone? Me mum. Does the song you’re currently listening to remind you of anyone specific? No, given it has like... one lyric, haha. Do you own any TV show soundtracks? No. Last thing you did that made you feel like an adult? I mean I guess sign myself in at the doctor's. What’s your favorite picture of your mom? Dad? Oh my god, there's a candid one I got of Mom laughing when she was posing as my subject for a photography assignment, and I cherish it with ALL my heart. I want to share it with essentially the whole world, but yeah, I'm not gonna put my mom's picture here. As for my dad, I like this one I took of us at Red Lobster for his birthday a year or two back. Last TV show series you finished? Fullmetal Alchemist with Sara. Favorite flavor of cream cheese? Regular. What US state would you like to visit? Alaska. Last meal you made yourself? I put a chicken pesto thing in the microwave earlier for dinner.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''whispers in the dark'' by skillet

2 notes · View notes

romioneficfest · 4 years

Text

No Regrets

Title: No Regrets Prompt/Day: Day 10- Someone walks in on them at a bad time Tumblr name: Rating: T Brief summary: While on the world’s most boring tour of Hogwarts Ron decides to fix one of his biggest regrets. Any possible triggering/warning tags: Kissing, Sexual Innuendo, Heavy Petting