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weasleyreidstyles · 3 months

Text

Serendipity

chapter fourteen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): slightly suggestive, canonical violence, heavy mentions of blood/injuries, angst with some fluff at the end

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Hermione Granger was coined the smartest witch of her age for many reasons. Although brave and courageous at heart, she was wise and ambitious to the very marrow of her bones. It's how she noticed your changing affections for Mattheo Riddle, perhaps even before you did.

It started no earlier than October, when you no longer complained about your desk partner in Ancient Runes; when you'd meet up with her after the tutor sessions with bright eyes and a genuine smile, which she had not seen since the weeks leading up to the Department of Mysteries battle last summer. She knew what Riddle was like, but seeing the spark reignite in your soul began to change her perspective of him. Maybe he was inherently good after all.

When Harry told her and Ron what he had discovered about the two of you, she wasn't even a little surprised, but she was surprised that Ginny, too, was not in the least bit affected by the revelation. She watched in forlorn silence as Harry singlehandedly cut you off from them, despite everything you had done for him; everything you'd sacrificed. She had spent many nights berating him in the common room with tears in her eyes.

You were her very first friend at Hogwarts. You'd met on platform nine and three quarters in your first year and exclaimed that you absolutely adored the celebrity on the cover of the magazine she happened to be browsing through. Hermione had thought you were a muggleborn like her and was disappointed when you said you weren't. But she was elated to hear that your mother was just like her. You spent the entire trainride chatting about muggle affairs and your favourite books, and had both gotten up to help Neville find his toad which is how you met Ron and Harry.

You were the person she turned to when Ron first took to being a horrid nuisance to her. You were the person she went to for help finding out about Nicholas Flemmel and the Philosopher's stone. You were the person who wrote double the amount of notes in second year, while she was petrified, just so that she could have knowledge of all the things she'd missed out on in her absence. You were the one to subject yourself to Bellatrix Lestrange's cruciatus curse so that someone could help Harry fight of half a dozen Death Eaters by the arch in the strange room in the Department of Mysteries.

You were her sister and her best friend.

And she felt completely undeserving of all those years of sisterhood as she watched you traipse around the castle like a ghost for days, after the argument with Ron transpired outside the Hospital Wing.

She had slapped him so hard when they'd gotten far enough away from the sounds of your heart wrenching sobs. The sound had echoed so loudly through each of their ears, and she did not care about how Ginny had gasped in shock horror at her action. Or the way Harry flinched as Ron cradled his reddening cheek. It was well and truly deserved.

She did not speak to Harry or Ron for two weeks. Now she only offered vague, one-worded answers to their incessant questions. They acted as if they had done nothing wrong. It infuriated her.

Hermione wanted to find you and apologise profusely. As did Ginny. But each time they got the nerve to find you, you were surrounded by a guard of snakes. The Slytherin boys were extremely protective of you and it seemed that Mattheo no longer cared for secrecy; openly showing that you were his for all the world to see, though subtly enough that only those with keen eyes saw. Hermione saw.

You looked happier with them than you had ever been with any of your old friends. Hermione often wondered if you were meant to find them; wondered if she, Ron and Harry had been holding you back from your true potential.

She admired you. She loved you. She had to make this right.

She cornered you after an Ancient Runes lesson. A ballsy move, considering Mattheo, Theo and Pansy formed a protective wall of imposing doom behind you, like fallen angels promising retribution. She steeled her gaze, looked between all three of them, shot the true intentions of why she was doing this to their minds – she knew they were digging through her thoughts by the pin pricks in the back of her head. But not from you, never from you, although she would never hate you if you did.

"What do you want, Granger?" It's Pansy who speaks up first, her voice dark and promising unspeakable terror, if Hermione so much as said one thing out of line. She watches as you reach for the hand that softly brushes against your own and grip it with all your might; Mattheo's hand.

"I wanted to speak to you." she says directly to you. "Alone, if possible."

She can see the way Mattheo is about to rebute this.

"If not that's completely fine." its rushed and laced with desperation and you can see the emotions clouding your ex-best friend's face. The guilt and the longing. You want to hear her out.

You squeeze Mattheo's hand once before letting go and speaking to them all, without opening your mouth.

I want to hear what she has to say. You guys go ahead, I'll find you later.

Pansy's look of uncertainty is remedied by your insistence that you'd be fine, and Theo is a little reluctant but follows behind her. Mattheo is a silent and imposing statue of simmering rage at your side. And by the uncomfortable look on Hermione's face, you know he's in her head.

If she comes back crying, believe me when I say that you will regret it Granger. And if this is a farce to satisfy Potter's cruelty, he will pay for it too.

"Harry doesn't know I'm here. Neither does Ron. Ginny should be outside, she wants to talk too. I-if that's alright?"

"It's fine." your voice is softer than she's ever heard. Like you're wholly unsure if you can trust her word. It's a foreign and devastating feeling. And she hates it.

Mattheo's hand brushes your's before he reaches up and squeezes your waist affectionately, departing after Theo and Pansy moments later.

The classroom is blissfully empty. Now it's just you and Hermione, alone. The silence is tense and awkward as you each wait for Ginny to walk through the door.

She arrives moments after Mattheo's departure, steps slow and hesitant. But as she sees the two of you she releases a heavy sigh of relief and launches herself at you.

She's hugging you so tightly. Squeezing and squeezing until your arms, which are limp at your sides, instinctively wrap around her frame. She's mumbling apologies into the neck of your blue and bronze lined robe, body racking with subtle sobs, that you mirror as you melt into her embrace. Hermione joins you both after a moment and the three of you sink to the floor, twin tears streaking down your faces, apologies and words of love and hope echoing off the walls of the classroom.

Eventually the hug ends and the three of you are sat in a small circle between the desks, voices low and quiet as you listen to what the other has to say, all the while, Mattheo is a welcome presence in your mind, offering infinite reassurances as your heart races in your chest.

Hermione tells you how Harry and Ron seem like totally different people now. How she slapped Ron and did not utter a singular word to Harry until he apologised to her.

"Look I'm sorry, alright." he said one evening in the common room as she was researching for an upcoming essay. "Please talk to me, Mione."

"I'm not the one you should be apologising to." she mutters, not taking her eye off the words on the page. Harry scoffs as he sits down. "If you're going to bad mouth my best friend then go and find Ron. I don't want to hear what you have to say."

He rolls his eyes before he stands up and walks away.

Ginny feels terrible. She hadn't known it was you and Mattheo in the corridor until she heard his distinct low and raspy voice, too late. She wasn't quick enough in deterring Harry away from the space and she regrets it immensely. And the look on your face after Ron had shouted at you plays repetitively on her mind at all hours of the day.

Guilt errodes at your souls and all three of you feel the weight of it like you're being held beneath the surface of a very deep lake.

When the two of them finish explaining themselves, you inhale harshly before letting out a calming breathe.

"I can't say that your actions didn't hurt. Because then I'd be lying." you say, voice clouded in emotion. "I have been outcasted by everyone I thought I could call a friend. Even my own housemates don't speak to me. You didn't do anything to stop that, which really hurts."

There's a lump in your throat that continues to strain with every word you utter, eyes burn with the onslaught of more salty tears.

"I know that you don't trust them. And you have every reason not to. I understand that. But they have been here for me, when the two of you weren't. They've shown me what it means to be surrounded by kindness and safety and I love them all equally, no matter what has been said and done in the past. Yes they work for you-know-who. But they had no choice. You know who their families are, hell we fought most of them in June. They've been forced into this and I just want to get them out."

Ginny reaches over to squeeze your hand. You let her.

"I-" she pauses and looks at Hermione, who reaches over for your other hand. "We want to help you. In any way we can. We'll help you appeal to Dumbledore-"

"He already refused my plea for help." you say with a grimace.

Hermione gapes. "B-but he always says that-"

"-Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask." you say at the same time as she does. "Yes he said as much, and then followed with saying that they don't deserve to be helped."

"That's completely unfair." Ginny mutters. "If you were asking for anyone else he'd help in a heartbeat."

Hermione mumbles her agreement, face painted in complete disbelief at your revelation. She always believed that Dumbledore was a good and just man, but maybe she was wrong.

"We'll appeal to the Order." Ginny says. "Tonks' mum was in you-know-who's clutches when she went to the Order for help. And now she's effectively protected for life."

It's a good idea. It may work. But you have your doubts. The current members of the Order held their own prejudices, much like Voldemort's Death Eaters did.

"Tell your friends about the idea. Tell them that we'll try." Hermione says earnestly. "Nothing will ever justify our behaviour towards you, but let us make it right. Please. It's the least we can do for how badly we treated you."

What are they saying right now? Mattheo asks you, voice painted with curiousity.

They're going to help me keep you all safe.

And how, pray tell, will they achieve that? Mattheo sounds like he adamantly does not believe your words.

They have a way but I'm honestly not getting my hopes up until its more of a solid plan.

Okay, I trust you. How do you feel, love? His voice is a soft caress to all the corners of your mind. It's like he can feel the anxiety rolling off of you in waves.

I've got mixed feelings. I want to believe that they truely do mean what they're saying, but actions speak louder than words.

Even though you say that, Mattheo already knows that you'll forgive them. He may not agree with it because, in his opinion, they do not deserve your forgiveness, but he understands that you'd been akin to sisters for years before his family welcomed you into their circle with open arms. Of course you'd forgive them eventually; it doesn't mean that any of your found family would, though.

Hermione and Ginny watch as your eyes glaze over. It's obvious that you're talking mind to mind with Mattheo by the way your face heats with a blush and your face is alight with a soft, yet dazzling smile.

The three of you had once gossiped, in the cosy confines of the younger girl's bedroom, that Ginny's oldest twin brother was the perfect guy for you, but judging by your expression, they knew it then and there......Mattheo Riddle was your soulmate and you were completely and irrevocably in love with him.

An hour later, the three of you were sat under the shade of a willow tree that overlooked one of the beaches separating the Black Lake from the main courtyard.

It was as if there was never a blip in your friendship. Like old times. It felt normal. But there was an underlying feeling that everything was different at the same time. And the three of you had wordlessly accepted that fact.

"He needs to get rid of that stupid book." Hermione mutters dismally as you watch Harry and Ron stroll by, not sparing any of you a glance as they stare down at the battered Potions book in the former's hand.

"Still jealous that he's gotten better at potions than you? You're not top of the class anymore." You tease and she throws you a playful glare.

"Nevermind that. It's insidious." she says. "Just the other day he was asking if I'd heard of some kind of spell that was, quote on quote: 'for enemies'. It's completely ridiculous."

"I can't say that I disagree with you Mione." Ginny says grimly. "I overheard him telling Ron that he really wanted to test it out."

She shivers as if a blanket of cold was just thrust upon her. You're left bewildered. Harry seemed like a wholly different person and you didn't know what to make of it.

~∞~

A week later, you'd come to terms with the new state of your friendship with Hermione and Ginny; your Slytherin friends were weary at first when you told them of their plan to involve the Order, but it was Theo and Blaise who agreed tentatively to hear them out.

You tried to build a bridge between your two opposing groups, and it worked somewhat: Hermione had bonded well with Theo and Ginny found a kinship in Pansy's fierce spirit as well as Enzo's witty humour. Even Luna, who had accompanied Ginny one day to see you, had found solace in Blaise's quiet and calm nature.

Draco was the most alert by your insistence of them all speaking – he was weary that Hermione did not like nor trust him and she was uneasy around the boy who had called her unsavoury names for years. But even Hermione could see how worn down and tired Draco looked, and cut him some slack.

After another drooling day of school, you were lying in Mattheo's bed, clad in nothing but one of his dark tshirts as you lied against his chest, breathing in his alluring scent of cedar, musk and smoke. After completing your homework together, the two of you had nothing better to do than laze about, sharing languid kisses and slow, soft sex.

You were talking quietly to one another, sweet giggles and deep chuckles passing between you as you bathed in the serenity of each others' presence. Mattheo's hand was tracing circles against the back of your thighs, causing you to shift away with a breathy laugh.

"That tickles. Stop it." you say, mirth shining in your eyes as you playfully glare at him as his fingers dance across your soft, sensitive skin.

"Or what?" he challenges with a smirk that has you sitting up against his stomach, the ridges of his abs brushing sensually against your aching core.

Safe to say, your clothes ended up on the floor once more and the room was once again filled with your combined sensual moans and whines.

Later, you're cuddled against him again, tired and spent as you allow sleep to overtake you. But it never comes. Enzo and Ginny burst through the door in a panicked flurry.

"Ever heard of knocking, Berkshire?" Mattheo snaps, but at the look of alarm painting his friend's face, he sits up in rapt attention.

"What is it, Enzo?" he asks, using one hand to pull the duvet over your bodies to shield you from their averting gazes.

"It's Harry and- and Malfoy." Ginny says, breathlessly as if they'd run here. "They're dueling in one of the second floor bathrooms."

That statement has the two of you scrambling for your clothes as Enzo and Ginny leave to wait outside the door.

Uniforms shoved back on in a hurry, rumpled and creased from your earlier activities, the two of you follow behind the panicking pair as they lead you to Moaning Myrtle's floor. You hear the duel before you see it. Draco and Harry are throwing insults and curses back and forth in rapid fire blows. You would be mesmerised by the feeling of all the power that sings to you, if you weren't so worried and horror stricken at what you'd stumbled into.

Upon entering the scene you can't help but gape at the destruction. The porcelain sinks lining the marbled walls are cracked and broken, crumbling to the floor; pipes bursting with a never ending onslaught of spraying water that washes across the floor like tempered glass.

Your arrival distracts Draco momentarily as he turns towards the four of you, weariness clouding his light grey eyes. It's all the time he needs for Harry to surprise all of you with his menacing words as he casts the final spell, signifying the end of the harrowing duel.

"Sectum-sempra!" he shouts and Draco releases a pained yelp before falling to the floor as Ginny gasps in horror. Blood soaks the water around him, spreading out like slick oil against it as he writhes in pain. Slashes of blood saturate his white shirt, as if a knife had been hacked against his skin.

The room is a flurry of activity as Ginny starts shouting at Harry as Enzo and Mattheo pull out their wands defensively. But you pay them no mind, immediately going to Draco's side, trying your best to comfort him as you rip open his shirt to see the damage that Harry had caused.

His torso is caked in blood, gashes of skin torn open by the force of the spell. He's lying in a pool of it, the volume increasing with each passing second. Draco was dying. Slowly and painfully.

Moaning Myrtle appeared from the pipes screaming "MURDER IN THE BATHROOM!" repeatedly as you worked tirelessly, which was not helping the onslaught of overwhelming emotions that were bubbling to the surface.

It's okay. You're okay. You need to stay awake Draco. Please stay awake. You reassure him as you mumble a series of spells. He begins writhing more.

Episkey doesn't work.

Ferula fails to expell bandages large enough to cover the gaping holes in his chest.

Basic wound sealing spells are cast in vain.

You have tried everything you can think of. But nothing is working. Tears of frustration begin to slide down your cheeks.

"What's taking you so long?" Enzo shouts at you, drawing your attention away from Draco. Your breathing is panicked and uncertain and Mattheo tilts his head towards Enzo, a silent threat to watch his tone as he sees the slick flow of tears running down your face.

"I don't- nothing is working." you say breathelessly. "I don't know what to do."

Ginny looks horrified. As do Mattheo and Enzo. Harry only looks intrigued, no trace of guilt paints his face. You narrow your eyes at him.

"It's from that book, isn't it?" you accuse and he flinches at your icy tone. "The Half Blood Prince wouldn't be stupid enough to not know a counter curse. What. Is. It?"

He doesn't answer you fast enough for Mattheo's liking. Despite not understanding what you're talking about, he turns to the bespectacled boy with barely contained rage as he points his wand in the direction of the 'Chosen One'.

"Answer her, Potter!" he snarls and Harry snaps his head in Mattheo's direction, shooting him a glare until Ginny screams at him to answer you.

"Vulnera Sanentur." he says reluctantly, as if he was waiting to see how long the effects of the spell he cast would take place. As if he was waiting for Death to sink it's claws into Draco's soul.

Immediately you work on each of the gashes on Draco's torso and they begin to heal over for the most part, but he's still loosing too much blood.

"Someone needs to help me seal his wounds properly. I can't do it by myself." you say desperately and Enzo is immediately at your side, both of you mumbling the spell and casting your wands over the various wounds that litter Draco's pallid skin. Meanwhile Mattheo and Ginny stare at Harry as if he'd grown two heads, sharing a knowing look of understanding that Harry does not miss, nor does he like. He grits his teeth at his enemy and the girl he's infatuated by as Ginny, not so subtly, inches closer to Mattheo's side. Mattheo's eyes soften at the fear coating the younger girl's cerulean eyes.

No sooner than you'd entered the fray, Professor Snape comes gliding into the room, face livid, and pushes you and Enzo away from Draco's still writhing body. He performs the healing charm with practiced ease, going over each jagged cut, that you failed to heal, with graceful precision. If you weren't so overcome with emotion, you would've put the glaringly obvious pieces together.

The flow of blood eased rapidly and the wounds knotted together intricately as he repeated the spell, tenderly wiping away the blood that coated Draco's face. You knelt close to his side, reaching out to stroke his limp hand, which was alarmingly cold to the touch. You and Enzo were both covered in a mixture of blood and water which soaked through your uniforms, sticking to you like a second skin.

No sooner than he'd arrived, Professor Snape had Draco leaning against your side and was talking softly to the boy, who was barely conscious.

"You must go to the Hospital Wing. There may be some scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that. Come...."

With Enzo's help, he supported Draco across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in a voice of cold fury, "And you, Potter – You will wait here for me."

Harry, at least, had the gall to look ashamed.

You're still kneeling on the floor, staring at your blood soaked hands when Mattheo appears in front of you, taking your hands in his, paying no mind to the blood soaking through his trousers.

"You did good, darling." he says softly, so only you can hear, neither pay attention to how Ginny inches closer to you two, away from Harry's wide eyes. "So good."

"If Snape didn't turn up–" you don't want to finish the sentence, don't even want to think about what could've happened.

"If he didn't end up coming, you and Enzo would have worked tirelessly to seal Draco's wounds to the best of your abilities." he reassures you, having read the emotions as clear as day on your face. "Come on, let's go and get you cleaned up, yeah?"

You allow him to pull you to your feet and you're only reminded of his presence when Harry scoffs.

"Got something to say, Potter?" he snarls as his hand rests against the small of your back, at Harry who glares at Mattheo obstinately.

"He cursed Katie Bell. We all know it. He deserved what he had coming for him. I can't believe she willingly helped him after everything he's done to us. After everything you have done."

He spoke as if you were not standing right in front of him. You barely recognise the boy who you called your best friend for nearly six years. Harry had barely finished his sentence when Mattheo had left your side and launched at him, throwing punches and blows in Harry's face. That's not to say that Harry did not return the favour. Both boys' blood mingled with the softening pink whorls in the water. You and Ginny were screaming at them to stop; they did not acknowledge your pleas. The last time they fought like this was over a year ago.

The conduit around your neck crackles with energy and you fight the urge to break it. Instead you wrap a fist around it almost instinctively and draw out power that surges through the room, separating the two from eachother with little to no effort. They're both panting and glaring at eachother as they fight against the restraint of your power.

"That's enough." you say firmly, voice loud and commanding in the silence, wholly different to its usual cadence. Ginny is staring at you in awe, as Mattheo stares with pride. Harry looks at you with uncontainable fury and fear.

Because you're glowing.

There's a faint indigo aura surrounding your body that pulses with energy as you hold the two boys away from eachother. When Mattheo stops fighting you, you let go of the hold and watch as they slump in their spots on opposite sides of the room, both sporting matching wounds of split lips and bruised eyes.

"What the fuck are you?" Harry mumbles to himself, just as Snape returns to the bathroom. The professor looks at you in barely restrained approval before instructing you, Mattheo and Ginny out of the room. You each go without hesitation, leaving Harry at the mercy of a furious Snape.

~∞~

Parting ways with Ginny at the intersection between your two common rooms, Mattheo lets you guide him towards the Ravenclaw tower, which was closer to the dungeons that were on the opposite side of the castle to where you currently were.

He follows you silently, staring at you as if he can still see the faint glow of the indigo aura that surrounded you. He didn't think you could get any more ethereal. You prove him wrong every single day.

"Do you think Draco will be okay?" you ask quietly as you reach the polished bronze Knocker that conceals the entrance to your estranged common room.

"He's strong. I know he'll be okay." Mattheo reassures you, but he chooses not to tell you that Draco's fate will be far worse if he fails to fix the wardrobe that they'd been working on for the better part of half a year. All their fates would be far worse.

You breath out a relieved sigh in response, just in time for the Eagle to blink preternaturally at the two of you. You laugh softly as Mattheo shivers at the utter human-ness of the brass eagle.

'I can break. I can be clogged. I can be attacked. I can be given. I can be kept. I can be crushed, yet I can be whole at the same time. What am I?'

It only takes you a moment to figure out the riddle and Mattheo sees the exact second that the answer fills your head, even as his stays blank with confusion.

"A heart." You say and he swears that the eagle winks as the door swings open, paving way for the sea of eyes that stare at the two of you in horror.

You realise then that your still covered, practically head to toe, in Draco's blood, skirt and knee high white socks soaked through from the water, stained a light pink. Shaking yourself out of your haze, you grip Mattheo's hand and drag him towards the staircase leading to the girls' dormitories, ignoring the eyes that are burning holes into your skin as you retreat.

You wandlessly unlock the door that leads into your dorm room and watch as Mattheo stares around in awe.

"I've never been in here before." he says quietly and you turn to him with furrowed brows.

"Yes you have. Haven't you?"

It dawns on you then, that in all the months you'd known him, you had never consciously invited him into your bedroom. It had always been his common room; his dormitory or the Room of Requirement. Never your's.

"No. I haven't." he responds, laughing at the surprise that appears on your face as he casts his surveying eyes around your room. "It's very you."

"Thankyou?" you respond questioningly which causes him to laugh more, then wince as the movement of his laughter tugs at the cut that splits his lip.

Eyes full of concern you direct him to your bed and push him down by his broad shoulders to sit, ignoring the way his brows wiggle suggestively while you find a first aid kit to remedy his injuries.

He's still smirking when you return from the bathroom, green box in hand, which you place by his side as he guides you to stand between his parted thighs. The two of you bask in the content silence as you use a damp flannel to wipe away the dried blood that has begun to crust over his soft skin, mumbled apologies escaping your lips whenever he hisses if you accidentally catch one of his cuts with the fabric.

"You could easily wish these away with a bit of magic, you know. It's a thousand times faster." he says, hands caressing the backs of yours thighs as he looks up at you, but he makes no move to stop you or push you away.

"That feels uncaring." you mumble in response as you use a bit of rubbing alcohol against the cut on his lip. "Sorry." you say as he winces.

"It's alright, love." he mumbles, leaning his head into your stomach once you finished. "Potter can really throw a punch."

Your laughter comes out as a scoff. "Maybe. But you should've seen the state you left him in."

He smirks against the damp fabric of your shirt and you swat at his curly head when you practically feel his ego inflating.

"I did give him a good beating, didn't I?"

"You're so vexingly arrogant." you say with a soft laugh that has him leaning out of your stomach to stare at you again, a mischievous glint reflecting in his honey brown eyes.

"It's one of the many attributes of mine that you fell for though, isn't it Princess." he says with so much self assurance that you just have to roll your eyes, but it's difficult to hide your smile.

"Shut up." you reply as his arms reach up to wrap around your middle, bringing you into his embrace, but he cringes away at the feel of your still wet clothes.

"Let's get you out of these yeah? You're practically shivering." he says as he untucks your shirt from your skirt, affection and...and love overtaking his soft eyes as he stares up at you, quietly stripping you of your ruined clothes that he throws into a pile at the foot of your bed.

~∞~

"Thank you, Théo." you say quietly, almost in a whisper, after you're both fresh and clean from a shower, all wounds healed over with a bit of his magic.

"What for?" he asks you, just as softly, hand reaching up to brush a loose wisp of hair that had fallen into your face.

You don't answer him, not verbally at least, instead pressing a slow kiss to his mouth that he happily reciprocates, leaning in until he's hovering over you, trapping your body below his.

For protecting me. For defending me. For giving Ginny stability, despite how you feel towards her. I saw the way she gravitated towards you. Just...thank you. Your words have his mouth working harder against your's, causing a moan to escape you as his tongue licks against the seam of your lips, which part eagerly for him.

Always, sweet girl. I will always defend you and those of your friends who are worthy of defending. He replies before detaching his lips from your's, with retraint.

"Weasley could have easily let Enzo find us himself, could've even encouraged Potter to continue their duel. But she didn't; she watched a boy almost die, watched her friend heal the same boy who terrorised you all for years. She could've easily gone to Harry's defence, but she didn't. She looked to us for direction. Not him. That says a lot." he said aloud with a sigh, strands of his curly hair falling over his forehead, causing his eyes to twitch in irritation.

You used the tips of your fingers to coil the stubborn curls away from his face as he speaks, a new sense of admiration, trust and calm washing over you as you stare at your lover.

"It may take time for me to trust her, Granger too," he continues. "But I see how much she looks up to you, trusts you and vice versa. I can learn to forgive them for their wrongdoings. For you, my love."

"Thank you, Théo." you repeat as you bury your face into his shirtless chest, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

He smiles as he presses a kiss to your temple, unaware that today's events would spiral into something unfathomable that Mattheo Riddle should've seen coming from miles away.

~∞~

did i mention how much i love soft!matty😫😫 (in every chapter since they got together 😵‍💫😵‍💫)

i had to end it with some fluff because i'm sure you can guess what's gonna happen in the next few chapters lol

also thought id let you know that meadow's siphon powers are now fully manifested, she just has to learn how to control it (which we see briefly in this chapter)

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

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#mattheo riddle x reader #serendipity series #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle #harry potter #pansy parkinson #ron weasley #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire #ginny weasley x reader #harry potter x reader #hermione granger #draco malfoy #angst #flangst

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kaylasficrecs · 9 months

Text

stupidly yours | miguel o'hara

you found your roommate stupidly annoying, from the girls he brought home, to the way he never cleans up. so why, all of a sudden, was he trying to get into your good graces? (this is a horrible summary, i didn’t really know how to explain this one.)

college roommate!miguel au. he could still be spider-man 2099 in this, but it doesn’t pertain to the plot of the fic.

note: this was technically a request, but i think i deleted it before i knew i was going to start posting fics. sorry anon! this one's for you! also i didn't use too much spanish except for a couple of words because i hardly know any of the language (i know waaayy more french).

tw: talks of Miguel’s toxic family, language (pls let me know if there are others)

wc: 2k

It’s not that you didn’t mind your roommate Miguel, but you thought about throttling him regularly.

Between the girls he brought home and his sometimes too-brutal of honesty, you’ve thought about packing your stuff and sleeping under a bridge (not that there were many bridges in Neuvea York) instead of dealing with O’Hara on a daily.

But instead, you got your shit together and just retaliated in other ways.

You stopped cleaning up his shit, because sometimes he was indeed a college guy, and you were tired of being that nice of a person to do his dishes, vacuum, dust, and clean his stuff. You stopped buying groceries and making meals for both of you. Whenever he brought a girl over to his room while you were in the apartment, you blasted the High School Musical soundtracks. Yes, all three of them. You had heard doors and slam and groans of frustration in lieu of this, but Miguel never argued with you about it.

Because that was the thing, he knew he was being a prick, but it didn’t ever seem to occur to him that it would affect the people in his life. Or that he should apologize for it.

The last part of your ‘Miguel must be put in his place’ plan was if he was ever extra rude to you during a conversation, you would just stop talking to him. At first, it annoyed the hell out of him, he couldn’t seem to figure out why you had simply stopped talking to him at the moment. He would get even more frustrated, his brown eyes seemly burning red. But he was smart (smarter than you probably) and put it all together pretty fast. So now when those moments happen, he would apologize softly. Which in turn, surprised you. You never thought you would hear a “sorry” muttered from his lips.

After enough apologies from O’Hara, you decided to let up on some of the parts of your plan. You stopped playing music loudly unless they were being extra loud during sex. You started cleaning up again because honestly, it was starting to bother you too. But what surprised you the most, was that Miguel met you halfway: brought over fewer girls, - and when he did, he kept it quiet - helped you with dishes, and started taking out the trash all of the time. Miguel even started cooking for the both of you. When both of you were home for dinner, you would sit on the floor in front of the small living room TV, and eat and watch a show together.

More time spent together meant getting to know each other better. You told him about your family, and he told you about his fucked up one. You discussed likes and dislikes, learning that he couldn’t stand trashy Mexican food from fast-food places; making you swear you would never bring home Taco Bell again.

You started to maybe feel things for him after you fell asleep on him during one of your dinner-and-a-movie nights. And it wasn't the fact that you fell asleep that made butterflies form in your gut, but that you woke up in your bed the following day. It had taken you a few minutes to piece it together through the drowsiness, but you realized he had carried you from the couch to your bed. You had been pouring yourself coffee when you came to that realization. Let’s just say most of the coffee didn’t go into the mug.

The next time you started to blush after thoughts of Miguel was when he came from work to drive you home in the rain. After living together for so long, you got used to each other schedules, even before you started spending all this time together. So when it was raining Wednesday night after coming from the library, you weren’t nervous about Miguel knowing where you were, more just shocked. The library on campus wasn’t too far from where you guys lived, so you always walked. But you would have at least brought an umbrella if you were expecting rain. The downpour opening the doors outside made you face the fact that you would likely catch a cold.

To the left of the doors though was Miguel's fancy sports car; rolling down a window, yelling at you to get in.

As you shut the door, setting your backpack on the floor, you asked, “How… Why are you here?”

“I got off work a little early. And seeing it rain, I decided picking you up on my way home was way easier than dealing with you with a cold for the next few days.”

You looked at him aghast. Of course, he was a bit of a jerk about it, but the actual gesture made you pause. A few months ago, you would have never thought he would do this. Even now, you had never known Miguel to be this generous to anyone.

You tried to hide your small smile as he started the drive home, but you don’t think it worked because you saw one on his face too.

But the worst part for you was that he kept on picking you up. Week after week, Miguel would text you after he was done with work and pick you up to take you home from the library on campus (even though it really wasn’t that far of a walk). Soon after, he started dropping you off on his way to work too.

Miguel kept up the niceties till Christmas: carrying all the groceries (now that you were back to paying for them since he cooked for you both now almost on a daily), letting you fall asleep on him, not bringing girls around, buying you coffees, opening doors, and letting you pick movies for your dinner nights.

He made it really hard not to fall for him.

Then Christmas time rolled around. You knew it was hard for everyone that didn’t have the best family relationships, especially in Miguel’s case where he didn’t really have anyone left that was a good human being. Finals must have also rubbed off on him, he was snappy and rude to you for the weeks leading up to the holiday. He didn’t cook and barely ate for himself.

You gave him a pass this time, mostly because you owed it to him for being so nice to you, but also because maybe you liked him. Just a little bit.

So you tried to cook, were patient with him, let him pick the movie, and hopefully cheered him up some days with one of your sarcastic jokes. You didn’t want to leave him alone. But come December 23rd, and you had to go home for the holidays.

You had your suitcase all packed for the coming week, ready to say goodbye to Miguel, when he hugged you. He hugged you. He was a massive person but felt so small wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your shoulder. It felt like an atonement for all the bad things he has said or done the past few days. You wrapped your arms around his neck in gratitude, threading a hand through his hair, whispering in his ear, “Please call me. If you need anything.”

When he finally let go, Miguel’s arms still slung loosely around your waist, you met his eyes, and reached up to smooth out the worry lines on his forehead. He leaned into your touch, so you pushed a little further and kissed his jaw, “I’ll be back after New Year’s.”

His hands tightened around you, eyes closed, and let out a shaky breath. You couldn’t think of what more to say in the moment and didn’t want to ruin the soft glow that surrounded you both. You slowly pulled away, taking quiet breaths as you left the apartment. You desperately tried to forget about him while you were home.

But that wasn’t going to happen, as Miguel showed up at your parents’ front door three days later. Thank goodness it was you who answered the knocking late one night, as your parents were getting ready for bed, your siblings nowhere near the door.

“Miguel, what-” you backtracked, “are you okay?”

“I was going to call bella. Prometo. But I just needed to see your eyes. Just for a few seconds.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. You bit your lip and twiddled your fingers, wanting to help Miguel, truly, but you were nervous about how your parents would react to you bringing a 6’ 6” man into the home randomly. And at night.

“I-”

He didn’t even let you get a word in, “I apologize bella, I should not have sprung upon you like this. I will just see you at the apartment in a few days.”

Before he could fully turn around, you grabbed his wrist, caressing his hand as you slotted your fingers in between. Yes, it would be hell to talk to your parents about Miguel staying, but you knew you didn’t want him to leave. “Wait just… come inside.” You pulled him in, staring up into his eyes as you reached around to close and lock the door, “Stay right and let me… uhh… discuss with my parents, okay? But please, don’t leave, we’ll figure something out.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you gently slid your hand from his, walking toward the back of the house where your parents were.

Though it was one of the most awkward conversations of your life, your parents agreed to let Miguel stay the night, they could all discuss details in the morning, and formally meet him when they were wide awake.

You were going to let Miguel sleep on your bed and you take the couch, as your house didn’t have a guest room, and he was too big for said couch, but he insisted you could share your full-sized bed, and you really didn’t want to upset him more by arguing with him at this time of night.

You asked no questions about why he showed up at your house, just got ready for bed. He already showed up in more relaxed clothes so he could just hop right into bed. He was sound asleep by the time you got done with your shower and face care routine. Slowly slipping under the covers, you studied his face; still seeing the grimace he always wore, even in his sleep. It made you worry and smile at the same time, you wished you could ease whatever pain had caused him to come to see you in such a state. Clearly needing comfort, you brushed some hair back from his face, “Sweet dreams, Miguel.”

Sometime during the night, you swore you felt that same softness again, his arms cradling you, his breath softly blowing your hair. But when you woke up, the side he slept on was only faintly warm, a sign that he had been gone for just only a little while; a note laid on your nightstand:

Thank you for everything last night. I just needed to escape to you from these past few days. I can explain everything when you come home. I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so peaceful I’m sorry I left. Tell your parents I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to meet them, but thank them for letting me stay in their home with their precious daughter. Happy New Year bella,

Miguel

If it weren’t for your stupid family you would rush to the apartment, or home, as Miguel had put it.

With those words, he had confirmed it, you were stupidly in love with him. His stupidly warm eyes, his stupidly thoughtful actions, stupid full lips, stupid words (stupidly round ass), and most of all, his stupidly wonderful soul. He could pretend to be a hardass, mean, rude man to everyone but you.

And January 2nd couldn’t come soon enough, for your stupid brain could only think about Miguel’s arms holding you tightly once again.

©mixedficrecs 2023

thanks for reading <3

note: i think i might do a sequel to this one, let me know if you are interested!

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderverse #atsv #mcu #imagine #flangst #comfort #fluff #fanfic #my writing #writing #request #fem!reader #reader insert #au #roommate!miguel

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omgrachwrites · 1 year

Text

The Night We Met (Chapter One)

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!Reader

Summary: Over the summer you connected with the boy who is quite literally your twin's mortal enemy. Things start to fall apart in the darkness of the autumn.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, angst, everyone lives au, takes place in 6th year

A/N: Soooooooo, I'm back!! I'm so sorry for being away so long guys! This is the shortest chapter ever so I'm v sorry, I also didn't really know how to write Mattheo 100% as he is complete fanfiction! I hope you guys enjoy anyway and please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

Chapter One

Harry Potter was worried about his twin, she’d been so secretive recently, ever since the first week of summer. Harry knew they weren’t kids anymore but Y/N was his best friend and they used to tell each other everything. James and Sirius knew that something was up when Harry mooched into the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” his godfather laughed as he drank his tea.

“Where’s, Y/N?” he directed the question at his dad, ignoring Sirius. James shrugged as he leaned back in the kitchen chair.

“She’s off playing Quidditch in the woods, you know how she gets when she wants to be alone.”

Harry nodded, he did know but he was still a bit miffed that she hadn’t asked him for a match, “she’s supposed to come with me to Ron’s for tea,” he muttered.

At that moment, Lily walked into the kitchen and kissed her son on the cheek, “well, she’ll be back by that time.”

Harry nodded, forcing a smile for his mum’s benefit, but he just knew that something was going on with her. And, he was worried about her.

You cursed beneath your breath as you all but ran home, you had nearly lost track of time, you had nearly forgotten that you were having tea at the Weasley’s tonight. As you walked through the front door Harry was coming down the stairs.

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled and you felt your guilt begin to brew in your stomach, “have fun playing Quidditch?” he smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.

You could tell he was hurt but he’d never admit it, he’d never understand either and you hated doing this to him, “well, I would have asked you to join me but I know how busy you must be pining over Ginny Weasley.”

Harry scoffed as he pushed his glasses up his nose, “you’re my sister, and my best friend, I’m never too busy for you.”

You smiled, “thanks, Harry. I’m just gonna get ready and then we can go to Ron’s,” you traipsed upstairs without waiting for a reply. On the way to your room, you passed your dad, “why did you tell Harry that I was playing Quidditch?” you sighed.

James frowned, “what in Merlin’s name was I supposed to say, Y/N?” he continued when you shrugged, “you are your brother’s best friend and I know he’s yours but you need to tell him before he finds out for himself. Now, I don’t approve but you’re not a little kid anymore.”

“See you later, dad,” you sighed as you walked into your room to get ready.

As you and Harry were leaving the cottage and were walking up the path, Harry groaned out in dismay.

“What’s the matter?” you laughed but Harry didn’t reply or look at you, he kept staring ahead with a scowl on his face.

You followed your brother’s gaze and saw that Malfoy was passing by with his friend Mattheo Riddle, as soon as Malfoy saw Harry, his face lit up with malice, “alright, Scarhead?”

You glared over at Malfoy before glancing at Riddle who was smirking at you, you scowled at him, keeping your eyes on him long enough to see him raise his eyebrow, a smug look forming on his face. “C’mon, Harry just ignore them,” you glared at the Slytherin boys as you pulled Harry away, Riddles smug face in the back of your mind.

Dinner at the Weasley’s was always something to look forward to, Mrs Weasley’s cooking was amazing and you always had a laugh with the big family. However, this year it was different, it was almost awkward, you had to watch your brother try – and fail – to flirt with Ginny. Ron and Hermione were also starting to fall for each other, though they were the only ones who couldn’t see it. You had managed to keep your embarrassment in check until it was time to sit down for dinner.

“So, Y’N, dear,” Molly started, “are you in love yet?”

Ron snorted into his food as your eyes widened and you felt a flush creep up your neck, you shook your head as you looked up at Molly, “no, I’m not.”

“I think Y/N is trying to get onto the national Quidditch team with how much she’s been playing it this summer,” you forced a smile at your brother but said nothing more, and your love life wasn’t brought up again.

After dinner, you decided to leave early and without Harry, usually you and Harry would stay for as long as you could but the guilt in your stomach hadn’t settled yet. It made it virtually impossible for you to be around your friends when you felt like that. It was when you were getting ready for bed that the knock on your patio door came and startled you.

You sighed when you saw the handsome Slytherin boy standing out on your balcony, you padded over and opened the patio door, quickly ushering him inside.

“Mattheo,” you hissed, “what are you doing here?”

He smiled and cupped your cheek with a warm hand, “I wanted to see you before I head back home, I feel like I haven’t seen you as much recently.”

You scoffed and looked away from him, crossing your arms over your chest, “you literally saw me today.”

“For like an hour,” Mattheo sighed and kissed you softly. Your fingers delved into his thick curls as you briefly kissed him back before you pushed him away, “what’s the matter?” he asked, resting his forehead against yours.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, you couldn’t see how this relationship – if that was even what it was – would work at Hogwarts, it was too much sneaking around and you had to keep a lot more secrets at school than you did at home. Also, you didn’t have the heart to tell him your relationship had an expiry date. It really seemed like you were lying to everyone.

“Y/N,” Mattheo started, biting his lip, in that moment he looked so vulnerable as he stared at you with wide eyes, and you almost forgot who he was. Almost. “Can I stay here tonight? I don’t want to go back to Draco’s, you know he’ll be there.”

“Mattheo,” you sighed but he interrupted you before you could say anything further.

“Please, Y/N? I promise I’ll be gone before your parents wake up.”

You cupped his cheeks and fought back tears, “you have to go, everyone is in danger if you’re here.”

Mattheo looked like he’d been gut punched and he pulled away from you so quickly it was like you’d burned him, “right,” he hissed with a nod, “the scum can’t put the perfect Potter’s in danger.”

“I never said that!”

Mattheo sniffed as he wrenched open your patio door, “you didn’t have to. Goodnight, Y/N,” he climbed down your balcony and disappeared into the night.

“Goodbye, Mattheo,” you sighed as you watched him go.

The next morning was an early start and you almost immediately regretted promising that you would meet Ron and Hermione for an early lunch. You could barely keep your eyes open as you shuffled into the kitchen. You had been awake for most of the night half wishing that you had let Mattheo stay. You yawned as you spread butter onto your toast.

“You’re quiet this morning, Y/N,” James glanced at you from the other end of the table.

Harry snickered as he walked into the kitchen, “you say that like it’s a bad thing, dad.”

You scowled at your twin, “fuck you, Potter.”

“Language, Y/N!” Lily gasped but you couldn’t miss the laughter in her voice. Your mum narrowed her green eyes at you, “did you have a friend over last night? I could have sworn I heard you talking to someone.”

You shook your head, refusing to look at your dad, though you could feel him looking at you from where he sat, “I didn’t have anyone over last night, mum,” you mumbled. Lily nodded but continued to regard you suspiciously.

In no time at all, you were meeting Ron and Hermione outside of the ice cream parlour in the blazing sun.

“Hello again,” Hermione laughed as she pulled you into a hug, you grinned as you hugged her back and over her shoulder you waved at Ron.

“Sorry about my mum last night, that must have been embarrassing,” Ron almost winced as you laughed and shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it!” you sat at the table and smiled over at Hermione, “thanks for getting my fave,” you blew her a kiss as you a sip from your iced Butterbeer.

“Ugh, incoming,” Hermione rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her own drink, you could tell by the venom in her voice that it was Malfoy and his band of Slytherins. You didn’t even turn to look until Ron spoke up.

“Bloody hell, look at Riddle’s face.”

You glanced over your shoulder and was filled with horror by what you saw, Mattheo had been badly beaten, he had a black eye and a huge gash in his lip, almost like it had been split open. He looked at you with wounded eyes as he walked past but he said nothing. Neither did Malfoy.

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle imagine #harry potter imagine #everyone lives au #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #potter!reader #fluff #angst #flangst #harry potter #lily potter #james potter #sirius black #draco malfoy #ron weasley #hermione granger

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mcntsee · 2 months

Text

— ★ trojan horse.

↳ summary: Task force has finally tracked Makarov down to London.

↳ warnings: Not proof read. Violence, blood, description of injuries, death(s), weapons, language, mentions of smoking, some suggestive content but nothing explicit. Slight ooc Ghost and one use of “y/n”.

↳ note: Reader’s call sign is “Zero”.

↳ author’s note: I refuse to let Soap die. In my mind, he is alive and happy, so that’s what I am doing. While writing this I really liked it, then I didn’t, then I did and now I’m not sure.

“Smokin’, Johnny?” Ghost’s gravelly, low tone resonated in her ears, breaking her concentration, her heart skipping a beat at the unexpected interruption, her grip tightening on the rifle. “Blending in, L.T."

Despite the tension of the mission, a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “If ya say so..”

Zero allowed her gaze to glide through the sniper scope, tracing the scene where Soap stood, cigarette in hand, while Gaz extended a lighter to ignite Soap's smoke.

A gentle crackle emanated from the earpiece nestled snugly in her ear, a precursor to Price’s voice that followed soon after, “Zero, how copy?"

“Go ahead."

“Status on the target?"

She let her gaze return to the target, leaving the image of Soap smoking behind, before responding, “Seems our mate’s on the move. Finish up that smoke and get movin’."

Her eyes tracked the target's movements, ready to advise Soap to wait and blend in when the target stopped to tie her shoes. However, before she could speak, Ghost's voice crackled through the comms once more. “Wait. She's tyin' 'er shoe, likely checkin' if she's bein' followed.”

Zero’s gaze swiftly scanned the surroundings, her sharp eyes catching sight of a dog nearby. "Cute dog, eh, Soap?" she remarked over the comms, watching as Soap leaned down to pet the dog, his praises flowing as he stroked its fur.

Before long, the target resumed her movement, with Soap's careful steps tracing behind her, before coming to a complete stop by the kiosk, eavesdropping on her conversation.

“She made a dead drop for a buyer. Flash drive. Alley between Bistro 43 and Tea Cafe."

As soon as those words left his mouth, Zero sprang into action, swift steps descending from the building's rooftop as she made her way to the CCTV room.

"No sign of Konni. Must've already left.” Ghost's voice greeted her as she opened the room's door, his eyes glued to the screen in front of him and his back turned toward her. “Good. Scrub the footage for anyone leaving the alley, 0–7."

She approached him slowly, her steps light so as not to distract him. Once within arm's reach, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, massaging the knots she found there until the image on the screen caught her attention.

"There," she said, her finger extending as she leaned forward and pointed at the Konni. With a quick nod from Ghost, his voice graced her ears again, "Found ‘im."

Their eyes tracked the figure on the screen until eventually he disappeared into the tunnel, and they lost visual.

They exchanged a knowing glance, the voices of their teammates fading into the background as they locked eyes with each other. Carefully, she reached up, cutting off her mic in an attempt to have a private conversation with her lieutenant, who mirrored her actions soon after. "You reckon we found 'im?"

His hand came up to caress her cheek. "I would 'ope so, love," he said. The sound of one of his knees cracking in protest as he stood up reached her ears, and she couldn’t contain the teasing smile that crept onto her face as her eyes followed his movements. “Gettin’ rusty, L.T.?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, the sound bringing her the same comfort it always did, as his other hand, too, came up to gently cupped her face, his eyes meeting hers with warmth. “Be careful, eh?"

“Is that an order, L.T?"

“No, it’s a sincere plea, love.”

At that, her eyes softened at the edges, an almost imperceptible blush gracing her cheeks beneath his hands. "How could I ever say no to that?" she whispered, her voice as soft as always. "Mind yourself as well, yeah?"

A soft “‘Course, love.” slipped from his covered lips as he drew her closer. One arm tenderly enveloped her figure, while the other gently cradled the back of her head, guiding it closer to his chest. With a tender gesture, he pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head before slowly letting go and walking out of the room.

Soon, she found herself at the entrance of the west side of the tunnel, the voices of her squad members reaching her ears once again, each one confirming their entrance into the tunnel. “Zero?”

Her eyes quickly met Viper's, and with a swift nod, he lifted the bolt cutter, severing the chain that had previously secured the door. As soon as her group stepped foot inside and scanned the surroundings, her hand instinctively reached up to her vest, finding the microphone's button. With a decisive press, she answered, "Tunnel breached; we're inside and movin'."

Acquiring the USB from the Konni buyer had been a straightforward task. However, she harbored doubts that this would be just as effortless.

Her thoughts were interrupted as faint voices filled her ears—voices she didn’t recognize—and she swiftly signaled to her team with a closed fist raised high, halting their movements. Her head subtly tilting to the side as she strains to pinpoint the source of the unfamiliar voices. She gradually lowered her hand, extending her palm downward and making a sweeping motion from side to side, silently instructing them to spread out and move in different directions.

As the team scattered in different directions, she motioned with her head to Viper to follow her, extending two fingers out and gesturing for them to move forward to the train rails.

As they approached the train rails, the distant murmur of voices grew louder. Silently moving into position behind a stack of crates, they made eye contact, Viper's hand coming up, letting her know that there were five enemies ahead of them.

Her mind raced, gears turning faster as she formulated a plan of action. Quickly peeking over, she spotted two of the Konni sitting side by side, and a smile graced her lips. Meeting Viper’s eyes again, her hand went up with three fingers extended before pointing at herself, indicating that she would take out three of the enemies.

After his confirmation, she made a fist, holding it up in the air, before swiftly lowering it towards the ground, sending a nod in her teammate's direction.

She positioned her gun on top of the crate that was keeping her hidden. With a fluid motion, she closed one eye, the world narrowing to a tunnel of focus through the scope. Her heartbeat steadied, synchronizing with the rhythm of her breath. In the silence before the shot, she felt a calm resolve wash over her, every movement deliberate, every sense heightened.

With her finger poised delicately over the trigger, she took one final breath, then squeezed. The sharp crack of the bullet slicing through the air shattered the silence; the only sound that followed was the thud of two bodies hitting the ground.

Soon, the only remnants were the sight of five lifeless bodies sprawled on the ground, “Clear.”

Her earpiece crackled to life, static filling the airwaves before a distorted voice emerged, blending with the interference, “Six -o Watch—.., train clear. -vancing to Cross-..."

Frowning slightly, she quickly checked her equipment, ensuring that her radio was securely connected and powered on. “A-.. This is-, taking eff-… Konni has -stages.” Despite her efforts, the interference persisted, obscuring the clarity of the transmission. “Zero to Watcher, requestin’ a comms check."

She waited for a second, then two. “Ghost, do you read? I need to sync up for a clearer line.” Static was the only sound she heard as she adjusted the frequency settings on her radio, hoping to alleviate the issue, but to no avail.

With a sigh, she turned to her team. “Comms are compromised. Looks like there’s a jammer nearby.” Her eyes scanned the area, looking for any sign of the ruggedized electronic device with antennas protruding from the top. “We proceed with the plan. Keep tight.”

The signal wasn't ideal, but she considered herself fortunate. Despite the interference, she could decipher most of the messages coming through the comms and discern who was speaking based on the sound of their voice, which had proven helpful as she and her team pressed forward. “Th-.. karov’s last kn-.. position, Six— tay sharp.”

Sweat coated her entire body, exhaustion setting in as adrenaline surged through her veins. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and her breathing became more difficult to control. “Bloody hell, this place is packed with Konni."

The world around her faded away, her peripheral vision narrowing until all that remained was the crosshairs of her scope and the distant figure in her sights. The sounds of gunfire and chaos around her became distant echoes as she honed in on her objective with laser-like precision. “G’night, arsehole."

Her eyes followed the limp body of the enemy crumpling to the ground, and soon, the cacophony of battle rushed back to her ears. The distant roar of gunfire, the shouts of "Clear!" and the whirr of machinery somewhere farther down the tunnel. The weight of her rifle in her hands, the cool metal pressing against her hot cheek, the gentle sway of her body as she shifted her stance. Her vision began to expand, the edges of her sightline gradually widening to take in the full scope of her surroundings.

The closer they got to the crossover, the clearer the voices in her ear became. “—host, Ze-ro, Gaz-, tro—… tact- your position?” The static wasn’t as loud as before, but the messages kept cutting off intermittently.

She held her hand up, signaling to her team to stop, while she strained to understand what was being said. “Push-ing up the tra-… nnel. Got wounded-.. ans,” Ghost's voice crackled through, soon followed by Gaz's. “No s-..tage… hostages, eit-her…” A relieved sigh escaped her lips, tension dissipating from her body.

She reached for the microphone's button, pressing it as she breathlessly announced, “Almost at the crossover.” and then released the button as soon as she was done, lowering her other hand. Her feet carried her forward, footsteps following close behind her.

"Zer- what-… osito-?" Price's voice asked again, the tone growing louder with each word. She reached for the button again, but before she had a chance to press it, she was harshly shoved to the ground.

Her body tensed up, her hand instinctively reaching for the knife secured in the sheath on her thigh. “Zero, ho- copy?”, echoed through her earpiece. Before she could grab the knife, the same body that had shoved her pulled her behind a crumbled wall. Viper’s eyes met her wide ones, just as the sound of the turret mechanical gears rotating reached their ears. “Zer-, check in! ar- you al—ight?”

Her hand instinctively patted her belt, searching for the reassuring shape of the grenade nestled among her other gear. With each frantic pat, her heart pounded in her chest until her fingers traced the familiar contours of the grenade’s casing, feeling the cold, smooth metal beneath her touch.

The weight of the grenade in her palm grounded her, its textured surface offering a reassuring grip as she tugged it off her belt. "Fo—uck's sake, …-ero!”, With one quick glance over the wall, she localized the turret’s position.

Her grip tightened around the grenade, and in a swift motion, she pulled the safety pin and tossed the grenade toward the turret's location. Following the explosion, she heard someone yell, “Turret down!” followed by a tired "clear."

She stood up, flicking the grenade's safety pin to the side, and offered Viper her hand. As soon as he took it, she pulled him up to his feet. “This is Zero; we're nearly at the crossover."

A wave of relief washed over her as her earpiece crackled to life with Ghost’s voice, “Say aga-in, you—.. unreadable.” She repeated her words deliberately, ensuring clarity without risking detection by any nearby enemies. “Nearly at the crossover, L.T.”

A quick "Rog-" was all that she needed to hear for her shoulders to relax from their tense posture. Slowly, her hand rose to wipe at her sweaty forehead, the dirt on it smudging over her face. As her team began to move, her other hand swiftly reached out, grasping Viper’s wrist and bringing his progress to a halt. “Thank you, Harry."

His head slowly turned to her, a tired smile gracing his cracked lips. “Always, y/n."

“We’re pinned down, Cap! Konni’s blockin’ the tunnels.” The soft static that had accompanied her ear through the entire ordeal finally ceased, leaving only clear voices without interruption. “0-7 to Six—We're punchin’ through now!” She would've smiled at the improvement, but by now, with her teammates in sight and no longer reliant on the earpiece to hear two of them, she found its absence more of an annoyance than a relief.

"Get 'ere!” With quickened steps, she made her way to where Soap and Price were crouching by the bomb, her team following closely behind. They split into two sections, with three members staying behind to cover their backs while the other two moved forward alongside her.

"Red wire, got it," was the last thing she heard them say before her heart sank. With a surge of adrenaline, she broke into a sprint, her breath ragged and sweat streaming down her face. "Soap!" she screamed, but her words were cut short by the echoing shots that reverberated through the tunnel that was now littered with lifeless bodies.

Despite the impossibility, her pace quickened even more, her hand instinctively reaching up to open her microphone. "Backup is needed now!” her voice hoarse and breathless, with each word punctuated by the rhythm of her footfalls.

The desperate voices of Ghost and Gaz filled her ear with questions and status updates, but only one voice was clear. “Never bury your enemies alive."

Her thoughts raced as fast as her feet, and prayers to whoever would listen were sent as she pleaded for just two more seconds to reach them.

For a moment, relief washed over her as she saw Johnny stand up and strike the back of Makarov’s head. She almost paused in her running, but as quickly as the relief came, it vanished again when Soap’s arm was twisted and his body pushed forward.

The two seconds she had desperately wished for were granted, and not a moment later, she was running behind Makarov, watching him push Price back to the floor with his foot and aim his gun at Soap’s head.

Without hesitation, she rammed her body against his back, pushing him forward as the gun he was holding went off. “Soap!” Her breath caught in her throat as she glanced over at Johnny.

On his knees, Johnny held the left side of his head with one hand, the other planted on the floor to support his weight as he leaned forward. He was alive.

As if jolted back to reality, she quickly turned her head back to face Makarov, her hand reaching back to draw her gun.

“No!”

Time slowed to a crawl, and suddenly, her ears were ringing with a high-pitched whine, drowning out the cacophony of gunfire and shouts around her. Each sound seemed muffled and distant, as if she were submerged underwater.

The metallic tang of blood flooded her mouth, coating her tongue with a bitter, coppery taste that made her gag. Dizziness washed over her in waves, threatening to send her tumbling to the ground. She fought to maintain her footing, but she couldn’t remember the moment her legs gave out.

She could feel the cold sweat trickling down her spine, mingling with the warmth of her own blood. A searing heat radiated from somewhere on her neck, spreading like wildfire through her veins. Throbbing with each heartbeat.

Hands pulled at her vest, maneuvering her onto her back. The numb feeling of pressure being applied to her neck was almost lost on her until another hand gently tapped her cheek and the one on her neck left for a second.

She could barely hear her name being called as she forced her eyes to focus on the figures crouching by the bomb. Her thoughts raced in multiple directions, only coming to a halt when they landed on Soap. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny—

“Jo- John-“ Her voice sounded so strange, gurgling on blood as she fought to formulate a coherent sentence. “J-Johnn-y. Whe-"

"He's alright, love. He's alright." The tension left her body. He's alright, he's alright, he's alright, said the familiar voice in her head. Only then did she realize whose hands were stroking her cheek, the gentle motion bringing memories of that same afternoon flooding back.

"Si- Simon." Her voice, though quiet, carried a gentle tone that almost drowned out amid the shouts for medics that surrounded them, but he heard.

He heard, and his heart shattered at the haunting resemblance to her voice in the early morning or the late nights they spent entwined in bedsheets. Lost in each other’s eyes, hands roaming each other’s bodies between pants and pleas.

Their low whispers as they shared secrets, the hushed laughter that filled the kitchen during late-night conversations.

"You're gonna be alright, love." There was nothing he wanted more than to find Makarov and make him pay for what he had done. Return the pain he had caused to all of you tenfold.

His glove was soaked in blood. The crimson liquid stained the once pristine white skull hand a dark brown. He never despised the color brown more than he did in that moment. “Keep those pretty eyes on me, darlin’."

He could hear the distant footsteps approaching, urgent and hurried, echoing through the tunnel he had fought his way through not long ago, all in an effort to reach them. To reach her.

His gaze wandered up and away from her pale face, his eyes locking onto Johnny’s wide ones that were looking at her. Gaz sitting by his side, pressing a gauze to the left side of Soap’s face; his attention also fixed on her.

Price’s voice echoed from somewhere behind him, barking orders and demanding medical attention. And as his eyes shifted once more, he spotted Harry standing by a pillar, tears welling in his eyes as he looked at her.

He knew Viper well enough to be familiar with his first name. She had shared stories about him, the friend who convinced her to enlist alongside him, and the one constant in her entire career. He could sense the guilt emanating from him, and he dared not imagine what thoughts were consuming him in that moment.

Harry had been the one to bring her here, to this job, to this moment, and Ghost wanted to blame him for it, but he couldn’t. After all, without Harry, Simon was sure he would have faced a very lonely and unhappy life without her by his side.

For a moment, everything was silent; even his own mind had ceased its relentless chatter, and then he heard choking. “Love, breathe."

But she didn’t listen to him, so he tried again, louder. "Love, you 'ave to breathe," he pleaded, his hands trembling slightly with fear. “Darlin’, please.”

Just as his hands reached to pull at her vest, a firm hand grabbed his shoulder, attempting to pull him away. “Simon.” He squirmed away from the hand, moving forward because she wouldn’t breathe. He had to take her vest off. She couldn’t breathe.

The hand reached out again, its grip firmer than before, and pulled him back as he fought against it. “She can’t breathe,” he insisted, reaching forward again, his tainted, gloved hands grazing her vest before another hand landed on his bicep, forcibly pulling him away from her. “Simon, let ‘em do their job.”

He moved forward again, but this time, the hands on his body didn’t let him get far. “Ghost, let ‘em save ‘er.”

His tension eased only when his eyes registered the uniforms of the individuals who had taken his place beside her. Medical.

He fought the urge to cover his ears as the choking sounds grew louder and louder. “She can’t breathe.” Her eyes still tracked his every move, each flicker becoming slower, eyelids growing heavier, but they never left his, as per his request.

The notion of time eluded him; one moment, he was cradling her frame in his arms, whispering encouraging words, and the next, he was watching the ambulance leave.

The same hand that had initially separated him from her body touched his shoulder again, its weight lighter than before. “Son, I-“ The gentle pats from the hand ceased. “‘am sorry.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for, Price."

The drive felt impossibly long, yet too short at the same time. He wanted to be with her; he truly did, but another feeling nagged at his heart. A little voice in his head accompanied the feeling, reciting every worst-case scenario. Scenarios he couldn't allow himself to imagine. What-ifs that, if he allowed his mind to dwell on for too long, would forever haunt him.

She got lucky; it was only a graze. He knew the receptionist was just trying to ease their minds and assure them that she would be fine. Alive, and finally breathing. Still, he wanted to punch the reassuring smile off of her face. Lucky? How on earth could this whole thing be considered luck?

It felt like an eternity had passed as he waited for any updates. Johnny had come out not too long ago, a bandage around his head, a sling supporting his arm, and a worried look in his eyes as he scanned the reception area.

Gaz was the first to stand up and approach him, guiding him to where they were.

Simon felt for Johnny; out of the four of them, he was the only one who hadn't received a single update. According to him, the last thing he heard or saw from her was at the ambulance, and when he asked any of the medical staff for answers, they refused to provide any information, leaving him to assume the worst.

That she was gone. That the girl who he had grown so fond of— a sister to him, had been lost while protecting him. That her life had been taken away in exchange for his own.

In all the time Ghost had worked with Soap, he had never seen him so defeated. No jokes, no stupid stories—just pure and utter worry in his eyes, a stark contrast to the mischief that Ghost had grown so accustomed to seeing sparkle within them.

Once he had been filled in with the little information that they knew, his stance relaxed slightly, but like them, the worry didn’t completely dissipate until a nurse approached them. She was fine. Alive. Breathing.

After another hour or so, she was finally allowed to have visitors. Upon entering her room, his eyes quickly scanned the surroundings, taking in the sight before them. The sterile, white walls seemed to close in around him, contrasting sharply with the chaos of medical equipment scattered throughout the room. Wires and tubes crisscrossed the space, connecting her to an array of beeping monitors and humming machines.

The heart rate monitor emitted a steady rhythm that accompanied his ears as his gaze lingered on the IV stand beside her bed, the transparent bag of saline hanging precariously, dripping life into her veins.

As for her, she lay motionless on the hospital bed, her features pale and drawn, a bandage wrapped snugly around her neck.

Price was the first to move, his steps quiet as he approached her. "Oh, kid. What 'ave ya done?" His hand carefully took hers with a sigh. He wasn’t disappointed; no, he was worried, like a father would be.

He had been right there, in the perfect spot for his eyes to witness, with unimaginable clarity, the moment the bullet hit her. Some of her blood splattering on his face, the vivid image of her crumbling body etched in his mind forever as he reached for his gun.

Price’s desperate yell had been the reason why Simon’s steps had increased to an unimaginable speed. The pain and anger in his captain’s voice only increasing the panic that gripped at his soul as shots started to go off again. And then he saw them.

He saw Johnny’s trembling form kneeling on the ground, and Price's hand coming up to aim his gun at the retreating form of Makarov.

He watched Makarov’s image disappear as a train flew past them, Price's body crawling to her. Tugging her to his side by her vest, shaking her body as he yelled at her to look at him.

He saw Kyle appear and kneel next to the bomb as he ran forward, his knees hitting the ground next to her at the same time as Price moved back to the bomb, instructing Gaz on what to do.

There were only a few instances when he could admit that Simon had a stronger grip over him than Ghost did, today being one of them.

He hadn’t been able to focus on anything other than her. Her eyes, her mouth, and her blood forever staining his hands. On top of all that, he remembered her promise. Her promise to be safe. A vow similar to the one he had made to her, the only difference being the fact that he kept his and she didn’t.

As the hours stretched on, a steady stream of visitors flowed in and out—military friends, superiors looking for mission details, nurses, and doctors.

At some point Kyle had offered to take Johnny back to base, but it took Price’s authoritative insistence to finally persuade Johnny to leave, making the captain and lieutenant the only ones left in the room with her.

Price clenched his fists, his brows furrowing in frustration. "I wanna be mad at 'er for what she did," he grumbled, his voice tinged with annoyance, prompting Simon’s gaze to shift from her to him. “It was stupid, but she saved our arses."

With a sigh, Price's hands came down to his knees, pushing against them as if to support his own weight as he stood up. “In all my years in the military, I’ve only encountered two individuals whose loyalty matched their bravery." Simon watched his captain’s movements, noticing the slight shake of his head as he continued with a softer voice. “Willing to sacrifice everything to protect others.” Price’s hand reached forward, placing it on her leg and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Her bein’ one of ‘em.”

After a moment, he released her leg and met Simon's gaze. "You the other." With a nod of his head in his captain’s direction, he quietly murmured, “Double-edged sword.”

Price lingered for a moment, his eyes returning to her face for one last glance before he made his way over to where Simon sat. With a couple of gentle pats on his shoulder, he said, "Get some sleep, son. She's going to be alright."

As soon as the door closed and he was alone with her, he allowed his facade to crumble. The emotions he had kept at bay surged over him like crashing waves, threatening to drown him in their intensity.

The events of the day played on repeat in his mind, each moment etched vividly in his memory. He could still feel the weight of her hand on his shoulder, her comforting touch easing his stress. The scent of her hair filling his senses as he held her close, her head resting against his chest.

The worry that consumed him as they tried to reach her, only to be met with silence on her end, and the relief that flooded through him when she finally responded, her gentle voice interrupted by static.

The scream of his captain echoing in his ears, and the sight of her body lying on the blood-covered ground. Her dimming eyes and paling skin. The struggling gasps for air and the sound of her choking on her own blood.

The hands holding him back and away from her, and his best mate’s eyes filled with terror. The slight tremor in Price’s hands and the constant pacing from Kyle.

The weight of it all bore down on him, threatening to crumble his resolve as he made his way over to her, each step feeling heavier than the last until he finally reached her bedside.

He went to take her hand in his but stopped as soon as he noticed the dried blood on his now-bare hand. With a grimace, he rubbed at the stubborn residue, his skin reddening from the friction as he attempted to cleanse it away.

He continued to scrub at the stain until a smaller hand gently enveloped his, halting his frantic motions. It took a moment for his brain to register the touch, but when it did, a small gasp escaped his lips, and he looked up.

His eyes found hers in an instant, and his airway constricted. She was fine. Alive. Breathing.

Part two….?

Comm dialogues with no static:

1. “Six to Watcher, train tunnel is clear. Advancing to Crossover.”

2. “All Bravo- This is 0-7, taking effective fire. Konni has hostages.”

3. “That is Makarov’s last known position. Stay sharp.”

4. “Ghost, Zero, Gaz, troops in contact. What's your position?”

5. “Pushing up the train tunnel. Got wounded civilians.”

6. “No sight on the target. No hostages either.”

7. “Zero, what’s your position?”

8. “Zero, how copy?”

9. “Zero, check in! Are you alright?”

10. “For fuck’s sake, Zero!”

11. “Say again, you are unreadable.”

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader #angst #fluff #flangst #reader insert

160 notes · View notes

ericityyy · 6 months

Note

Hi :D I was wondering if we could have a georgie cooper x reader where the reader comes from a family of pagans so they’re perceived as kinda freakish by most of the town and georgie develops a crush on her?

please, and thank you

𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘈 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘧𝘴, 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵? 𝘖𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤?

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘖𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘈𝘵𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2,552

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

“Hi, I know we’re not close, but would you like to come to my birthday this Saturday?"

The girl who was asked looked at her friends while trying to stifle their laughter. “I’m sorry, I would love to, but I can't,” the girl finally said before walking out with her friends, laughing on the way.

"Oh, uhm, that’s okay.” Y/N sighed sadly when she crossed out another name on her list, looking at all the other crossed-out names. “I guess it’s just me again.” The girl smiled bitterly while deciding to sit on the stairs, observing how students come and go from room to room.

The bell rang, and all the students, one by one, went their own way. The girl, after seeing the last student go inside a classroom, waited for a minute or two before going to her own subject.

"Ah, Ms. L/N, care to explain why you’re late today?” Miss Ingram, the math teacher of Medford High School, paused with her writing and turned her full focus on the girl who just entered, making the other students turn their attention as well to the girl.

Y/N was about to answer before she was cut off by one of the football players of the school, “Maybe she was doing her voodoo freakshow to make us like her.” The class laughed except the Cooper brothers, one because he did not get the joke, while the other because the ‘joke’ was not funny.

“What do you mean by making us like her?” The girl that Y/N invited earlier frowned at the jock as she turned her attention once again to the standing girl. “It clearly didn’t work.”

Ms. Ingram pointed at the students angrily, “You better shut all your mouths before I make you all go to the principal’s office.” Least to say, they ignored her.

Y/N, too embarrassed to move, stayed in her position with tears gathering up in her eyes. “Oh no! Careful! You’re going to make her angry and take revenge on us!” The same girl pretended to act scared and put the back of her hand on her forehead, causing more laughter to erupt from the class.

A loud screech from a chair made the laughter stop as Georgie stood up and approached the embarrassed and humiliated girl. Offering her a napkin from his pocket and smiling softly at her.

Y/N is surprised, to say the least. Her glossy eyes looked at him with confusion and shock. No one has ever been nice to her at school before. Heck, no one has been nice to her during her, period. With the exception of her family, of course, and some old neighbors of theirs, but that was it.

Georgie then looked at the class with fury in his eyes and said, “Anybody wants to say something else?” No one answered for a minute when Sheldon raised his hand. The older Cooper boy rolled his eyes at his little brother and said, “Not now, Sheldon.” The said boy looked flabbergasted at first before slowly lowering his hand down.

“Ms. Ingram, if it’s okay, I’d like to take Y/N out of the class for a moment," Georgie politely asked the teacher, who smiled sympathetically at the girl.

Sympathy. Not many like to be pitied, but this moment brings comfort to Y/N to think that somebody actually cared enough to feel sympathy for her.

“Go ahead, Georgie.” The teacher then turned her eyes back to the class. “While I will bring some students on a field trip to the principal’s office myself, how does that sound?” Ms. Ingram smiled wickedly at the now cowering students.

While Sheldon smiled excitedly, “Oh boy! The principal’s office.”

"Oh, you’re not going, Sheldon.”

“Aww”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

Y/N fiddled with her pendant nervously, occasionally looking at the boy pressing on the vending machine as she sat patiently on the bench nearby. The two of them are alone currently at the hall.

A hand with a drink was thrust in her direction, particularly in her line of vision. Y/N looked up and saw Georgie’s smiling face. She meekly took the drink from him and drank it, looking down at the bottle and staying quiet.

Georgie, knowing not to push her into talking, sat down beside her, with a good amount of space left between them, and drank from his own drink. His cool demeanor contrasts with the way his heart is beating. He took a big gulp from his drink to calm his rapid heart. Alas, it didn’t work at all.

Being with the girl he has been admiring all year and sitting beside her is doing something to him. He flinched a little when he heard her speak.

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled shyly at his direction, “from kind of saving me back there." She then lifted up the drink with her hand, “and for the free drink." She returned her attention back to the napkin that she'd been gripping, “and for the napkin. I promise I’ll give it back to you soon.”

Georgie shrugged coolly from beside her. “It’s all good; as long as there’s no harm done to my napkin, it’s all good.”

Y/N furrowed her brows together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The boy then widened his eyes, realizing that his words might be a little offensive given the situation that happened earlier. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that." He was cut off when the girl laughed a little.

“I was just joking, Georgie.”

Georgie breathed a sigh of relief, shaking his head playfully at the girl who fully smiled at him. His smile, though, turned down a little. "So, how are you? With all that?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, hurt gracing her features. “Y'know, disappointed but not really surprised. It’s how people see me, my family.” She fiddled with her pendant once again, making Georgie’s attention turn to her hand. “I don’t mind being called a witch, y'know; it’s just—when people use the word in a bad way and call me and my family a freak just... hurts.”

She smiled bitterly. “It’s not like I’ll do something to them; it’s my beliefs, and I don’t need them to be friends with me; I just need them to be open-minded to it.” Y/N dropped the pendant, letting it hang around her neck, before releasing a big sigh.

Georgie looked at the girl softly, scooching closer to her, which the girl took notice of and said, “Well, I’ll be your first audience.” Y/N slowly smiled at that, nudging her shoulder to his. “I think paganism is an interesting belief; would you mind explaining it to me?” Georgie asked the girl, hopefully. In his case, it really is an interesting religion; he didn’t just say that to ‘get the girl’.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled at that before an idea came to her mind: “I’m actually having this small party at my house this Saturday; it’s my—“

“Birthday, yeah, I know.”

The girl blinked multiple times, snapping out of it. “I was wondering if you, I don’t know, would like to come?”

Georgie nodded his head without even letting the girl finish, “I would be honored to, ma’am.” He held her hand in his, raising it up to his lips and letting it touch the back of her hand softly.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

On Saturday, Georgie made sure to look presentable before going to Y/N’s place. And that means taking a long shower, shaving, spraying cologne, and putting on his best outfit. By that, it meant that he looked anywhere for his best outfit; there’s currently a mountain of clothes on his bed.

He styled his hair perfectly and looked for any creases on his shirt. Once he’s done, he exits his room and takes his car keys before going to the front door. “I’m going out for a bit!"

“Now, hold on a second there, mister.” Mary walked into the living room and stopped her son from further going out the door. “Where do you think you’re going, Georgie?”

Georgie released the door knob to properly face his mother and said, “A friend’s house.”

Mary smiled teasingly. "Oh, is this friend a girl?”

“Yes.”

Mary then dropped her smile after learning about this new bit of information. “Then why are you going to her house? Are her parents there? Is she your girlfriend? Who is she anyway? When am I going to meet her?”

Georgie sighed, rolling his eyes at his mother before answering all of her questions: “It’s her birthday. Yes. No, although I plan to court her someday. She’s Y/N L/N. I don’t know when she’s okay with it.” He looked at the watch on his wrist before facing the door once more. “I’ll get going; I don’t want to be late.”

After her son left the house, Mary was left shocked. “Did he just say L/N? Oh Lord, bless his heart and guide him through this.”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

Georgie wiped his hands and touched his hair to make sure it stayed put and not a strand was out of place. “You can do this,” he repeated to himself before knocking on the door.

The door opened up, revealing an older woman around her mid-40s. "Well, hello there, you must be Georgie.” She opened the door more to offer the teenager a handshake. “I’m Y/N’s mom; please come in, dear.”

Georgie shook her hand before entering the new home, a gift in his hand. It wasn’t really a big gift, and it made him nervous about whether she'd like it. The L/N’s house is a simple two-story house with a few plants inside and paintings hanging on the walls.

“Y/N! Dear, you have a visitor!”

“Coming!” And then she walked in the living room, with this simple blue summer dress and her hair done, with her pendant hanging around her neck. “Hi, Georgie. Thank you so much for coming.” Y/N walked over to the gawking teenager, his mouth left agape as he stuttered out a response.

“Hi—this gift... for you.” Georgie gave his gift to the girl. “I mean, this is my gift for you. Happy Birthday, Y/N." He nervously chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “It’s nothing much really, just a simple one. I hope you like it.”

Y/N took the gift and opened it, revealing a bracelet—an engraved bracelet with the runic letters spelling her name. “Oh my—Georgie, where did you buy this? I love it; thank you so much.” She hugged him, which left the boy more speechless than he ever was.

"Oh, it’s all good. I’m not sure about the spelling of the name, so if it’s wrong, I can fix it."

"Wait, wait, what do you mean fix it? You made this? ”

Georgie looked at the girl for a moment before shyly nodding his head. Their stare was broken by a flash, and the two of them looked to the side where they saw Y/N holding a camera in her hand. “I just ruined the moment, didn’t I?” She slowly put down the camera, smiling sheepishly at the pair. “Sorry.”

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

“So what’s your plan for the future, Georgie?” Y/N’s dad asked the boy as they ate.

Georgie swallowed the food before answering, “I actually don’t know yet, sir, but I would love to have my own business someday.” He picked up a glass for him to drink and said, “To be honest, I’m not that great at school, not like my little brother, Sheldon, so I don’t plan on going to college, but I would like to build my own business.”

“A business, huh? Well, you can tell me how I’ll help you, son; I’ll sponsor you as long as I can.” The man smiled at the young boy who beamed at him. “But you have to prove to me that my help wouldn’t be futile.”

"Yes, sir, I won’t let you down.”

Y/N smiled at the two of them, but not until her father asked what religion Georgie is. The teenagers looked at each other first before the girl let Georgie answer.

“I’m actually Christian; my mother is religious and all that, but I am not a full believer," Georgie answered truthfully, hoping that his religion wouldn’t be a problem to him courting Y/N in the eyes of her family.

“Oh, it’s fine if you don’t fully believe it if it doesn’t feel right with you," Y/N’s mom said with the girl’s dad nodding his head along with her. “We, pagans, are different from each other. Like Y/N here, for example, she believes more in the Norse gods but worships them a bit differently than traditional worship.” The woman pointed to her daughter, who smiled shyly, “She’s considered to be an Eclectic Pagan.”

Georgie takes in the new information and says, “That’s cool. Do you guys like to recruit or something?"

This time it was Y/N who answered, "No, no, we do not ‘recruit’, we let people do it of their own free will. Pagans tend to believe in many gods and goddesses, while some believe only in one; other pagans can believe in your God if they choose to.”

“Woah, that’s really interesting.” Georgie’s mind was prepared to ask more questions to the family, who, by the way, are happy to answer them.

・‥...━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━...‥・

“Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. and Mrs. L/N," Georgie said as they walked him to the front door as nightfall had already come.

Y/N’s mom moved to hug the boy and say, “No, thank you for being a part of my daughter’s birthday.” She pulled away with teary eyes, then whispered, “You have my blessing, by the way, to court her.” The woman winked at the stunned teenager.

“I won’t hurt her, I promise.”

“Oh Georgie, pain is part of love; as long as you treat her like she deserves and have proper communication with her, all is well.” Y/N’s mom caressed his cheek before pulling away to let him and her husband talk.

“Remember what we talked about, son. I’ll help you as long as you help yourself too.” Y/N’s father shook hands with the Cooper boy, who nodded his head at him eagerly. “I trust you won’t screw this up, both the business and my daughter.” He raised a brow to the teenager, who just let out a chuckle nervously.

“Dad!”

“I’m only joking, sweetie, right, Georgie?”

"Yes, sir, of course.”

The parents walked off to give the two some privacy. The teenagers walked outside as they stood there on the porch, with the only light being the porchlight. “I’d like to thank you for coming to my birthday and celebrating it with me. And for the gift. And for everything else.”

Georgie just smiled and nodded his head behind her. “I’m actually glad that your parents liked me.”

“Of course they would; what’s not to like?” Y/N unconsciously said before gasping when she realized what she said.

The boy started grinning boyishly, “Well, I best be on my way, ma’am.” He lifted her hand once again and kissed the back of it; he put it down but was still not releasing it. “Happy Birthday again, Y/N.”

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

I tried to make this as accurate as possible. Clearly, I am not a Pagan, but I tried to research and study more about the religion but please, correct me if I’m wrong.

How about a part 2? Where the Cooper Family met Pagan!reader? Let me know what you think about that.

#x reader #georgie #georgie cooper x reader #georgie cooper #young sheldon #request #angsty fluff #flangst #fluff #angst #imagine #fem reader

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dreamsontheirway · 11 months

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Ouch! | J.M.

Summary: in which you get injured while playing volleyball and JJ tends to you. Warnings: bloody nose, fighting Word Length: 1.2k

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The sun beamed radiantly on the residents of Kildare, not a cloud in sight. It was an uncharacteristically nice day for the season. The middle of July and the UV index being a 4 was practically unheard of, and you and your friends were planning to take advantage of it.

There was a charming set of beach volleyball courts near The Cut, somewhere in between there and Figure 8. You had been a few times and enjoyed it, aside from the "tourons" who often inhabited it in the summertime.

You and the rest of the group had already piled into the Twinkie and were headed towards the beachside where the courts were located. You and JJ sat near the back of the boho-style van, his arm resting across the back of your shoulders. He played with the strands of your hair and blew on your neck.

You squirmed, the feeling of JJ's breathe causing shivers to ripple up your back. You looked out the window and noticed that you were nearing the beach.

"Finally!" JJ exclaimed dramatically, beginning to gather up yours and his belongings.

The beach was packed, which was not preferable, but there were still a couple volleyball courts left open. The group rushed to one of the courts toward the middle of the beach and began to set up.

You weren't the best at volleyball, but you had gotten better. You definitely still lost every time, but what mattered was that you enjoyed it.

Your group decided to play girls versus boys, which was mostly fair, as Sarah and Kiara both had some experience with volleyball. John B and Pope were a bit clumsy, but JJ was extremely experienced at the sport. He spent the most time on the beach growing up, so he had a lot of opportunities to learn.

You were shaking off your flip flops in anticipation when JJ came up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your torso. He reached around and kissed your cheek as obnoxiously as he could muster.

"Mmwah!"

"Blech!" You hollered, amused. You turned around in his arms and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"I think I might finally beat you today," you spoke playfully, and smiled softly at him.

"Oh, really?" he started. "We'll see about that."

With a wink and a smirk, he ran to the opposite side of the volleyball net, the sand becoming airborne with each step he took.

The first couple rounds of the game went alright; the score was tied. You and the girls were holding your own, but of course, JJ was showing off. He jumped and dove for every ball, never missing a beat.

You were about to serve the ball when you heard laughing nearby. You looked up to see a group of male tourists near you laughing and spiking volleyballs as hard as they could. Idiots, you thought to yourself and shook your head.

You returned to your serving position, moving your right fist back and forth to balance it and get the perfect spot. Before you could make your move, you heard JJ's voice holler.

"Y/N!"

You barely had time to react before something firm hit you in the face with enough force to knock you on your rear, your head flying back into the sand.

"Jesus," you exclaimed, hand coming up to grip your nose. You felt something warm and wet. Uh oh.

"What the fuck, man?" JJ's voice chimed through your ringing ears. "Were you dropped on your head or are you naturally that much of a goddamned idiot?"

Sarah and Kiara had made their way to you by this time. Helping you sit up, their panicked faces came into view and you waved them off, assuring them you were fine. They began looking around frantically, no doubt searching for something to stop the steady stream of blood gushing out of your nostrils.

Now that you were sat up, you could see through your tearful gaze that JJ was up in the face of one of the tourists that were spiking the ball. His nostrils were flared, his hand pointing towards you. The tourists hands were up in defense, frightened by JJ's extreme reaction.

"I asked you a fucking question! You just hit my girlfriend in the face because you wanted to go and do some dumbass shit!"

At the sight of JJ pulling on the collar of the tourist and John B and Pope unable to pull him off, you knew you needed to do something.

"JJ!" You hollered sternly, with as much force as you could in your current state.

His wide, blue eyes turned to you then, relaxing slightly at the sight of your face. Upon seeing the tears and blood flowing from your reddened face, though, his eyes filled with fury.

"Do you see her fucking face, dickhead? Do you see what you did?"

The tourist naturally turned then, to look at you, and JJ wasted no time in socking him in his nose, hard.

"JJ!" You practically screamed then, which got his attention. He dropped the collar of the young man, pushing him to the ground before running over to you.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbled when he approached you. He tore off his tank top and held it to your face; the search for tissue by the girls proved to be fruitless.

"Did you have to hit him, Jayj?" You used your nickname for him, showing that you still appreciated him going to your defense.

"Yeah, actually, I did," he murmured, focusing on removing the blood from your face. "I can't believe he hit you this hard. Goddamn."

"Yeah," you mumbled, coughing. You held up your finger then, signaling JJ to stop. You then leaned over and spit, a pile of blood-filled spit coming out.

"Fuckin' hell." You saw JJ's jaw clench then, and he made a motion to get up. You knew he had every intention of finishing what he started with the tourist nearby.

"Stay here," you commanded, but finished the sentiment with a soft, "please."

JJ's eyes softened, and he looked over to where the tourist was icing his face. He had enough self-control to realize when his girlfriend needed him, despite his overwhelming desire to beat the young man. He wanted to make the man bleed at least as much as he had made his girlfriend bleed.

JJ crouched back down to your level and asked, "does it still hurt?"

"Not really," you assured him. "I could probably use some ice, though."

He popped up quickly, jogging the short distance to the cooler to retrieve some ice for you. He held it to your face with one hand, the other rubbing the tears away from your under-eyes. You didn't ever feel like you needed to cry; the tears must have been a reaction from getting hit in the nose.

"My poor baby," he gushed, pouting his bottom lip at you playfully. "I think it's best if you're done playing for the day, so in that case, I'd say you forfeit, and I win."

JJ grinned at you. You feigned shock, and retorted, "absolutely not. I can still kick your ass with or without a bloody nose."

-----

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train-wrecc · 1 year

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Champagne Problems

marcus baker x miller!female!reader (I just realized some of y’all may think this means that Zion’s your dad but it just means that Georgia’s your mom but you have a different dad)

flangst! ( if y’all can’t tell I really like flangst, haha)

word count: 7.1k

warnings!: mentions of pregnancy & abortion, cussing, toxic? relationship (on&off), mentions of food, anxiety, & panic attacks… i think that’s all 😅

includes: bestfriend!padma, younger!sister!ginny (15 years old), you and Marcus are 18, OC? (not really) Noah (Marcus's best friend that he lost to cancer, they never gave him a name in the show, so from now on I’ll probably just refer to him as Noah, it was the first name that came to mind)

ALSO: before reading, I just want to preface, that it is your body and your choice. 💞

unedited!

part 2 part 3

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You never thought you’d be stood here, however there you were. It was as if the box full of pregnancy tests was laughing at you. You had been practically been disintegrating it with your eyes. You’d had enough, you were just gonna do it.

As you waited for the three tests for three minutes, it was the longest three minutes of your life. You were filled with anxiety and intrusive thoughts that almost sent you spiraling.

Your breath trembled with unevenness, your timer causing you to jolt out of your stupor. You held your breath. This was it. These pink sticks would cruelly decide your fate.

You quickly glanced at the tests. All three tests were undoubtedly positive, each reading the word ‘positive’ on the little digital screen.

That one word ‘positive’ sent you panicking, gasping for air, as the word ran rampant in your head. Positive. They're positive.

You couldn’t even form the words in your brain, “I’m preg-“. It was as if even acknowledging the word in your mind would make what was already your reality true. That was something you didn’t want to accept.

Your legs gave out from under you, sending you crashing to the cold tile flooring. Goosebumps arose on your arms, unsure if they were caused by the frigid tile or the shock of the recent revelations.

Silent sobs fell from your lips. Tears tainted your cheeks, the pregnancy tests taunting you from the counter. You were so livid with yourself. How could you have let this happen? How could you have been so stupid!? How? Why?

Your mother had desperately tried to protect you from this; from the pain of becoming a teenage mother. You weren’t sure how you were gonna tell her, you knew it’d break her. Would she scream at you? Throw you out? Would she simply cry? And what about your siblings, how would they react?

And Marcus? You knew from the moment you read that word on the pregnancy test that he was the father of your unborn child. Would he even want to be in your child’s life? You knew what it was like to grow up with an absent father, and you would never want your child to have to go through that. To grow up wondering why all the other kids had dads and they didn’t.

Having to question why they were abandoned by him as you did.

Your hands formed tight fists, your nails imprinting crescent moons on the palms of your hands due to how hard you’d been clenching them.

You threw your head back, wanting to scream but you couldn’t. You didn’t want to alert anyone of what had happened while you were in the bathroom.

A knock on the door, caused your breath to hitch in your throat. “Y/n are you almost done? You’ve been in there for like 20 minutes now,” You heard your sister Ginny call from the opposite side of the door.

You cleared your throat, hands sweeping away the tears that had created streams down your face.

“Yeah, Ginny, I-I’ll be out soon.” You said trying to hide the emotion your voice held.

Ginny knew something was up, but she figured it had something to do with your on-again-off-again relationship with Marcus. She decided she would give you your space and check on you later. Sometimes she just wanted to quite literally slap some sense into you, scream at you to drop his ass. But she knew even that wouldn’t do anything.

Marcus had your heart in a cage. You loved him unequivocally. But she wasn’t sure he felt the same. When he wasn’t with you, and you guys were in the off stage, he was with some other girl.

Ginny loved you with all her heart, and she and everyone around you could clearly see you deserved and were worthy of much more than Marcus could offer you. Albeit, you were too blinded by that captivating, enamoring smile of his. It pulled you back into his arms every time. His brown eyes brought you crawling back to him each time you tried to escape them.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You tried your best to mask your emotions, however, you were pregnant and even more hormonal. So to say you were hiding it well, well, it was contradictory, to say the least.

You hadn’t told a single soul. As the days passed you spent them kissing Marcus and doing a lot more, taking in all of him that you could, trying to memorize every part of him. This minute voice in the back of your mind told you once you told him, you would lose him. For good.

When you weren’t with Marcus you spent your nights hysterically crying in bed. Your hand clamped against your mouth in a feeble attempt to obscure your cries.

One night Ginny had heard you, coming into your room to find you on the verge of a panic attack. That was when she knew something was terribly wrong.

Your chest shook, heart, beating erratically. You shook your head wanting to wake up from this nightmare.

“Y/n/n, calm down, you’re okay, everything’s gonna be okay, alright?” Ginny attempted to calm you down.

You only shook your head, somehow your sobbing becoming even louder at her words. She pulled you into a tight embrace. Rocking you back and forth in an attempt to soothe you. Something you had done for her numerous times when she would have panic attacks.

You felt disgusted with yourself. You were her older sister. You were supposed to set a good example for her. You are the one whose supposed to comfort her, and be her shoulder to cry on, not the other way around.

Ginny couldn’t seem to calm you, no matter what she did. She wasn’t quite sure how your mother hadn’t woken up or Austin.

“Y/n/n, do you want me to call Marcus?” She asked you, she may not like him for you, but she knew he would somehow be able to instantly calm you down.

“No,” You cried sobbing harder, at the mention of his name.

“Okay, okay, I won’t call him,” She murmured.

She gently rubbed your back, continuing to rock the both of you back and forth. It took a while but you eventually calmed down. Ginny stayed with you that night and cuddled you to sleep not wanting to leave you alone. A tear escaped Ginny’s eye, she hated seeing you like this.

The following morning, Georgia burst into the room, searching for her youngest daughter. She found her in your bed, the two of you holding each other; it was something she hadn’t seen in a while and it piqued her curiosity. She could immediately tell something was up. Your eyes were swollen, cheeks splotchy, all pointing to one thing.

You had been crying. She had a feeling it had something to do with the boy that just seemed to keep on hurting you. Often times she thought it would be best if she poisoned his food or drink while he was over but she refrained from doing so for your sake because somehow you loved that boy. She knew what it was like to be so in love with someone that just seemingly couldn’t commit to you.

Marcus could hurt you so deeply, and send you on a rollercoaster of highs and lows. But the highs, God were they so good. You would be smiling for days, nothing able to tear you down except the only person who could paint that same smile on your face. She loved seeing you that happy, that was all she wanted for her kid's, unfaltering happiness.

Your mother let you and your siblings stay home that day. She woke you with your favorite breakfast and favorite drink paired with it.

“Thanks, mama.” You tried your hardest to bring a smile to your face, for her sake. But you couldn’t and it ended up being more of a grimace. Hiding this secret was taking a toll on you, it had been two weeks since you had found out the shocking news, that you were gonna be a mother in 9 months. Give or take. You were beginning to drown.

Ginny glanced at her mother, eyes full of worry.

“Anything for my girls,” She smiled at you.

“How about we have a girl's day, huh, how does that sound?” She inquired.

“I really appreciate you mom, but I kind of just want to stay home today if that’s alright?”

“Of course, babygirl.” She gave you a warm smile.

“You know, you can tell me anything, right, baby?” She pulled you into a hug. You fought back the tears that so desperately were trying to slip out. You nodded, not trusting your voice to respond.

“Alright, well, I’ll leave y’all be.” She trailed out, closing the door behind her.

You took a small bite of your breakfast, you were beyond starving.

“Y/n? What’s wrong, please talk to me,” Ginny murmured, hurt in her voice.

“I hate seeing you like this,” She whispered.

“It’s nothing Gin, alright, don’t worry about me. Okay, me and Marcus are just having a rough patch that’s all.” You lied to the girl, you just needed more time before you inevitably broke your family’s hearts.

“I know that’s not true Y/n/n,” she shook her head, “this is different.”

“Ginny, I promise you, I’m fine-“ as that last word fell from your lips, you felt an overwhelming rise of nausea fill you. You leaped up from your bed, sprinting to the bathroom. You practically vomited your intestines into the toilet.

You wiped your mouth with some toilet paper. You rinsed your mouth, followed by brushing your teeth along with some mouthwash to get rid of the horrid taste of bile.

As you turned to walk out, Ginny stood in the doorway, eyebrows scrunched together.

“Something in the food must’ve been bad or undercooked,” You explained.

“Mhm,” She nodded.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You hadn’t talked to your best friend Padma, in a few days, like everyone else Padma knew you were acting odd, however, she had yet to voice her opinion. You knew being around Padma, would cause her to lure your secret out, and you couldn’t risk that. So, you had been hanging out with Marcus a lot more.

Albeit, it caused you to feel extremely guilty for keeping it from him. It had almost been a month that you’d been harboring this secret, and you knew you’d need to tell everyone soon. However, you decided to keep on basking in the bliss of ignoring your problems.

You had decided to go over to Marcus's house, you knew he was home seeing as you were neighbors, but he hadn’t been responding to your texts. You should’ve just given him the space he clearly wanted. You walked into the house, as if it were your own, seeing as you spent a lot of time there.

Max was nowhere to be found, so you signed hello to Ellen and Clint and made your way to Marcus’s room. You knocked on his door, before pushing it open. The boy barely glanced up at you, before returning to his sketchbook. “So, now you’re ignoring me?” You questioned him.

A sigh escaped his full lips at your remark. “Really, Marcus? You’re gonna do this again?” Shaking your head in annoyance. Your hormones were not about to put up with his shit.

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Y/n,”

“Well too bad, Marcus, because I’m here, and I want to talk about it. Right now. I seriously don’t feel like paying your games right now.”

He raised his eyebrows at your tone, never having heard you speak to him like that before. “I’m too tired for this, Y/n, just go.”

“No, Marcus, I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell your problem is.”

“You, Y/n! You want to know what my problem is, there it is, Y/n! You’ve been so fucking clingy this past fucking month, I haven’t had a second to myself. God, I just wanted a little space but clearly, that’s too much to fucking ask of you.” He spat at you, brows scrunched up in anger.

His outburst caused you to purse your lips in shock before your jaw clenched with anger.

“Oh, sorry, for wanting to spend time with my boyfriend before he inevitably breaks things off at the beginning of each month, like some sort of fucking routine! So he can be with some other bitch for a few weeks, before deciding to come back to me, god, Marcus!”

“What the fuck is up with you, why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”

“What’s wrong with me?” You questioned letting out a humorless laugh.

“What’s wrong with me is that I’m tired of your shit, Marcus. What’s wrong with me is that I’m pregnant with your fucking kid!” You exclaimed in exasperation your hands flying up in anger.

Marcus’s brown eyes widened immensely, at your words. It dawned on you, that you had just told him that you were pregnant. Your hand flew to your mouth in shock, “Oh my god,” You murmured.

He sat in silence for a few moments, and you turned to face his door as you began to feel panic bubble up in your chest. “You’re pregnant?” He quietly questioned, as his head dropped into his hands.

You couldn’t bring yourself to form the words, simply nodding your head, as your eyes burned holes into his wooden flooring. “This can’t be happening, Y/n, we’re only 18, I mean we haven’t even graduated high school yet!”

You took deep breaths trying to calm yourself, “Don’t you think I know that, Marcus?” You hissed at him.

“What the hell, Y/n, you- you said you were on the pill!”

“I was, Marcus, it’s not 100% effective, and don’t you dare try to fucking blame this on me okay?” You turned to him with nothing but irateness smeared across your face.

“I can’t deal with this shit right now,” He quietly muttered, however, you still heard him.

“How the fuck do I even know that it’s really mine?” He questioned, now standing up.

“You’re fucking with me right, Marcus?” Fury burning in your eyes.

His face remained stoic, “Unlike you Marcus, you’re the only person I’ve ever been with,” You said through clenched teeth.

You couldn’t control your anger anymore, and the next thing you knew you were slapping him. “You’re a fucking asshole.” You said, before leaving his room, tears beginning to cloud your vision.

You attempted to rid yourself of the tears, but you couldn’t. They streamed down your face like a rapid, as your breath began to quicken. You reached for your phone calling Padma.

You sat in her SUV, as she shushed you, caressing your hair.

“Everything’s gonna work out in the end, Y/n/n, I promise.”

“It’s not Lo,” You managed to say through your crying and whimpers, “I fucked up so bad,” You whaled.

(*A/N: Padma means Lotus in another language, I don’t remember what language… but Lo is short for Lotus, I don’t know, I thought it was a cute nickname, rather than using ‘Pad’.)

“I’m here for you, Y/n/n, and I always will be okay, you know that, right?”

You gave a nod in response, sniffling.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you, I’m a terrible friend.” You cried.

“It’s okay, bub, I know you’ve been struggling this past month, I don’t hold it against you for needing some time.”

“You should, I have no excuse,” You whimpered.

“But I don’t, okay? Do you think you’re ready to tell me what’s wrong?” She gently asked. You nodded, staying in her warm, comforting embrace as you explained why you had been so distant, due to the fact that you would be a teen mom in less than 9 months. You told her about the fight with Marcus, how you hadn’t meant to just blurt the words out, and how he had the audacity to question if your child was his.

“Oh my god, Y/n/n, he’s a complete dick!”

“I know, and what’s worse is that, after everything that we’ve been through, I still love him. Does that make me crazy?” Your eyes welled up with more tears, and a dry laugh slipped from your lips.

“Very much so, but that’s what love does. Anyone who says they're in love and doesn’t feel crazy, well they’re not really in love.”

“Can I ask you something?” She voiced.

You nodded, “Why didn’t you feel like you could talk to me about this? We’ve been friends forever Y/n/n, you know I’d never judge you…” She gently probed.

“I know Lo, I just didn’t know how to and I didn’t wanna burden you with this secret,”

“You wouldn’t have bub, I promise you,” She said her hands clasping yours.

“Does anyone else know?”

“No,” You responded, “I have no idea how I’m gonna tell my mom, or Ginny…”

Tears began to leak from your eyes once again, “Mom is gonna be so disappointed in me,” You cried, “I mean she was a teen mom, and this is literally what she has tried to prevent from happening,”

“I’m a terrible daughter, and I’ll probably be a terrible mother too, I mean I’m only eighteen, and- and this kid is gonna have to grow up without a Dad, just like I did. They're gonna wonder why they weren’t good enough, and I-I’m gonna have to raise them by m-myself,” Your breath hitched, as you continued to cry and ramble.

“You’re gonna be a great mom, Y/n/n, if there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that. And yeah, maybe it’s not exactly what your mom wanted but, I’m sure she’ll be supportive, especially because she knows exactly what it’s like to be a teen mom. And Ginny and Austin will probably be so excited to have a niece or nephew. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

You nodded your head, trying to believe her words.

“When are you gonna tell them?”

“I have no idea…”

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Marcus hadn’t talked to you since last week when you had accidentally told him you were pregnant. You hadn’t tried to reach out to him either, unsure of how to feel anymore.

You glanced up at your mother’s dark brown eyes which were filled with shock as she tried to keep her face neutral. Your younger brother Austin was giddy with excitement, a wide grin playing on his face, Ginny’s face furrowed in worry.

You nervously played with the ring Marcus had given you when you first began dating at 15. A ring filled with false promises, empty words, and happiness that no longer remained. “I tried, I tried so hard… to prevent this, so you wouldn’t have to go through what I did,” She muttered, her tone holding a wave of slight anger to it.

“How could you be so fucking stupid Y/n?! I mean, truly, I-I cannot believe this...” Your mother suddenly burst out.

Your mouth was agape, you were speechless. You had hoped she would’ve reacted better, but you knew better. Your bottom lip trembled, eyes shimmering with tears. “Mom!” Ginny snapped at her.

You quickly got up, making your way to your room. You were too busy trying to drown the feeling of an oncoming panic attack that you didn’t notice Marcus sat on your bed. Your breathing became more erratic, your panic causing you to not hear Marcus as he questioned if you were okay.

“I should just get rid of it,” You sniffed, the words being filled with bitterness as they left your mouth.

“Princess?”

You looked up, eyes now meeting Marcus’s. Your eyes widened, “What-what are you doing here?”

“You were planning on aborting our baby? Without telling me?” He accused you with belligerence.

“Marcus, I-”

“I can’t believe you, Y/n,”

“Marcus, please, let me-”

“I’m out of here,” He shook his head, leaving the way he came.

“You’re not the one who’s carrying this baby, okay, Marcus!” You called out to him, as he was midway through climbing out of your window.

He turned toward you, “Yeah, soon neither will you.” He snapped at you, slamming your window shut.

(A/N: Damn, double homicide. LMAO please tell me y’all have seen those tiktoks, if not just ignore this… 😅)

You gasped for a breath and stood frozen in place for a moment. In a fit of anger, you began flinging things across the room. A picture frame of you and Marcus went flying at your window, the force causing it to shatter. You let out a scream of frustration, as you sat on the floor, sobbing loudly, your heart physically paining you.

Your fists met the floor, pounding on the wood, not knowing how to handle all the anger, sadness, and frustration that filled you.

When Marcus reached his room, he slammed his door in frustration and anger. Anger at himself, you, and the world. His eyes held unshed tears, his face in a scowl. He abruptly began punching his bedroom wall. Not stopping until he felt a force holding his fists back. He hadn’t realized he had been crying until he felt his tears now hitting his fists. His head fell against the wall, as Maxine pulled him into a hug, “What’s wrong Mark?” She spoke up after a few silent moments.

(A/N: I’m never using that nickname again, I’m sorry but that made me physically cringe…haha)

“Everything.” He breathed out.

Marcus had decided to confide in his twin, something he hadn’t done in a while.

“I- I haven’t been able to say it but, I-I love her, Max. I know I don’t deserve her, I’ve been treating her like crap for the past year. Our relationship has brought her nothing but pain, and I try and try to let her go. But I can’t each time I try to break it off, I end up going back to her because I can’t fucking breathe without her. I’m such a fucking asshole.” He shook his head in frustration.

“She’s- she’s fucking pregnant, Max, I don’t- I can’t be a dad. I can barely fucking take care of myself,” He whispered, exasperation in his voice.

“I thought for a second that maybe we could figure things out, so I went over there, and she’s fucking talking about getting rid of our baby, Max.”

“I think- I think you need to figure out what you want, Marcus, and once you do, you need to tell Y/n alright? Because this is something big, that you both need to discuss, and you need to stop being an idiot and tell her how you really feel, instead of getting scared and running away from your feelings,” She told her brother, trying to contain her thoughts, she wanted him to come to his own decision, albeit she really excited at the thought of possibly having a niece or nephew. Preferably a niece.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

After Ginny and Austin had told their mom off for shouting at their hormonal, pregnant sister, Ginny texted Padma hoping she’d be able to cheer you up. Padma had shown up at your house to whisk you away for a little. Before you left you tightly hugged Ginny and Austin who had showered you with love before you left, showing they supported you in whatever you would decide to do. Their kind words brought tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away not wanting to cry anymore. As for your mom, you assumed she was hiding in her room, an attempt at hiding you from her disappointment in you.

Padma came from the even wealthier side of Wellsbury, so money was something she didn’t lack. She had taken you out for some ice cream, ordering your favorite. Once you both had finished your ice creams, she decided you both needed a mani-pedi.

Padma had definitely helped relax you with her impromptu girl’s day. Once you guys finished at the salon, you begged Padma to let you stay the night at her house, not wanting to return to your own and possibly run into Marcus or your mother.

You were grateful when she said yes, and it was a good thing seeing as Marcus had shown up at your house, looking for you.

Ginny stood with her arms crossed, her full eyebrows raised in umbrage. Marcus nervously swallowed at your little sister’s seeming repulsiveness toward him. Before he could even utter a letter she began, “She’s not here. And even if she were, she most definitely wouldn’t want to see you.” She told him, her words filled with nothing but loathing for the boy.

“Ginny, I-”

“You know I really don’t understand what she sees in you. You have treated her like some disposable toy for I don’t even know how long, yet somehow she still loves you.” She bit her lip in anger, “You don’t deserve her, she deserves someone way better than you, someone who actually loves her, cares about-”

“Ginny, you can say whatever you want about me, but don’t say that I don’t care about or love your sister, because I do.” He interrupted her, with anguish.

“Then act like it, Marcus!” She shouted at him, “Because you say one thing, but you do the complete opposite! You need to get your shit together before it’s too late, and she leaves you. For good. It seems like she’s this close to dropping your ass,” She gestured with her hand.

Marcus clenched his jaw, his eyes glazing over with tears as he gave a small nod at the young girl who was grilling him, “I’m trying, Ginny.” He softly spoke.

“Well try harder, Marcus, for my sister, for your unborn child. I mean, don’t you want to be in their life?”

“I don’t know if they’re gonna have a life”

“Well, that’s something you guys need to talk about, and Marcus, please, stop hurting her,” Ginny begged.

“I promise,” He murmured his voice breaking slightly.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You returned home the next day and were full-on expecting to come home and be met with an angry mom, and a torn-up room. Albeit, it was the opposite. Your eyes held a sadness in them, feeling completely lost and overwhelmed. You were surprised when you swung your door open, your mother sat on your bed in your somehow tidy room.

She gave you a soft smile, tears in her eyes. You weren’t sure what to do, so you simply stood there, feeling shame, waiting for her to practically throw you out. You attempted to blink your tears away, hugging yourself in an attempt to comfort yourself.

“Baby… I’m- I’m so sorry for what I said yesterday.”

Your eyes were turned downward, your gaze on the floor. Suddenly you saw her feet appear in front of your own before you felt her wrap her arms around you, causing your tears to silently fall. “I should have never called you stupid, because my sweet girl you are anything but, and I am so proud of you, okay?” She said her voice full of emotion, her hand soothingly rubbing your back.

You silently nodded, sniffles and soft whimpers leaving you. “I’m gonna be here with you baby girl, every step of the way, alright? I support you no matter what, darling, I love you so much.” She whispered as you continued to keep your head buried in the crook of her neck.

“I’m so mad at myself for what I said to you baby, please forgive me, I know what it’s like to be in your position and I really should have comforted you instead of making you feel worse.” She cradled your head in her hands, before pulling back from you, wiping your tears, and placing a kiss on your forehead.

You sat on your bed, cuddled up with your mom, being in her arms brought you the utmost comfort. Your head once again, found its place in the crook of her neck with your eyes closed. They felt so sore from all the crying you had done in the past month and a half.

“Have you and Marcus talked about what you’re gonna do?” Your mother softly asked you.

You wordlessly shook your head ‘no’. “I think he thinks I want an abortion,” You gently voiced. “Oh, and may I ask why he thinks that?”

“It was after I told you guys about my pregnancy, and I came up here, and I was really upset, and I said that maybe I should just abort it. I didn’t know Marcu was here and he heard me, I haven’t talked to him since.” She quietly nodded, processing your words.

“And is that what you want, baby?”

“I don’t know mama, a part of me wants to try and raise this baby but I don’t wanna do it without him, but I think I’m gonna have to.” Your voice cracked at your last words.

“If he’s in your baby’s life, is up to him. But honey, you won’t have to raise your baby alone, you’re gonna have me, Ginny, Lo, we're all gonna be here to help you and support you if you decide you want to keep this baby.”

You nodded, her words bringing some comfort to you. Your mom let out a small sigh but before she could say anything else you spoke up. “Mom, how did you decide you wanted to keep me?” You questioned her. “Honestly, honey, I just knew. I mean from the moment I found out I was pregnant, I couldn’t wait for you. I was so happy to finally be able to love someone so dearly, who’d love me just as much as I loved them. I guess in a way… it was for my own selfish reasons of wanting to feel loved, but I try not to think about that too much, and just focus on being grateful for you, and to my younger self for making the only decision that I felt was right.”

“I think, I think I wanna keep them.” You said, gently placing your palm against your tummy that’d soon grow to carry your baby.

You stayed in your mother’s loving embrace for a while longer before she moved, explaining to you she had some things she had to take care of. She sent Ginny and Austin up to cuddle you, before making her way towards the Baker’s house.

It was pure luck that Marcus happened to be walking out of his house, just as she had begun walking toward their front door. “Marcus, just the boy-soon-to-be-father, I wanted to talk to.” She smiled, a calculating smile, at the boy.

“Mrs. Miller, uh, I don’t know what to say…” He murmured.

“Well, I just wanted to come over here and congratulate you, of course. As well as to remind you that you will help raise this child and if you continue to string my daughter along, and treat her like your little plaything, you won’t get to see your child grow, let alone the light of day, okey-dokey?” Her serious expression abruptly disappeared as she once again smiled at him and patted his shoulder.

“I think this chat went splendidly, but I best get going,” She said before walking off.

Marcus was left speechless, mouth slightly ajar. He had yet to tell his parents, and he hadn’t thought you would’ve already told Georgia. His talk with Max had made him realize he needed to tell you how he felt about you and your unborn child.

You, Ginny, and Austin had just settled into a comfortable position on your queen size bed, which was oh-so-comfortable. A knock interrupted your laughter at the movie that had been playing. It caused the three of you to glance at each other before Ginny decided to go and answer it. You followed her, not wanting her to answer the door by herself. Of course, that prompted Austin to go as well.

“Ginny, wait, for-”

You were interrupted by Ginny pulling the door wide open, Marcus stood on your porch, your favorite flowers in hand and a stuffed teddy bear. He looked up as the door opened, making eye contact with Ginny, his eyes held remorse, he was ready to plead with Ginny to speak with you, however as his lips moved to form the words, his eyes caught you, as you stood a little ways behind her.

“Y/n?” He questioned in a soft tone.

Ginny raised her full brows at the boy, unimpressed, “Y/n do you want me to-” she began but you cut her off. “It’s okay Ginny, why don’t you and Austin go watch the movie, I’ll be up soon.” You smiled at the two.

Ginny stood there for a moment before you shooed her away. Austin left after he had turned to Marcus and said, “If you hurt my sister, I’ll hurt you. Trust me, I’ve stabbed someone with a pencil before.” in a serious tone.

“I promise I won’t, not anymore.” He said with a nod of his head.

You turned back to face Marcus, you attempted to keep your guard up, arms crossed as you raised your brows expectantly at the boy, waiting for him to speak. Marcus held out the teddy bear that was half your size and the chocolates, you silently accepted them, gesturing for him to follow you to the living room. Once you had both gotten seated comfortably on the couch he spoke up.

“Bub, I am so sorry for the way I’ve been treating you and our relationship recently. I know nothing I say will excuse my actions- not that I want it to, I just, want you to know that I’m so sorry for the way I’ve acted recently. And I-I,” He clasped his hands together before he closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his struggle to say whatever he was trying to say.

Marcus opened his eyes glancing at the ceiling before returning to meet your own eyes, his brown eyes slightly glazed over. “Y/n, I love you.” Those three words were not what you were expecting Marcus to say, after all, he hadn’t said them in over a year. You tried to remain stoic, however, Marcus knew you, and he could see the tears that had welled up in your beautiful eyes. You turned away from him to wipe a stray tear that had cascaded down your cheek, you hated how hormonal your pregnancy made you. You faced Marcus once again, his eyes practically begging for you, your touch, your love.

You gave in as you practically jumped into his arms, your head buried in his chest. He embraced you in his arms, as your eyes watered. “I’m sorry I haven’t told you I love you in so long. I just, I guess… since- Noah, I was… I don’t know, scared of losing you, and I- I tried to push you away. I could never commit though, I love you too much to ever truly let you go.” His arms tightened around you as he said those last few words.

You sniffled you can’t believe you had never realized that maybe Marcus had been acting this way due to losing Noah, you were mad at yourself. “I’m sorry too. Sorry for not realizing, god how could I have been so insensitive, all this time…” You whimpered.

“Princess, you have nothing to be sorry for, you were there for me through all of that, and I’m so grateful for you and so sorry I never showed you how much I appreciated it. I don’t know how I’m gonna make up all of this to you, but I will, I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.” He said, one of his hands cradling your head in his palm.

“And I-, if you decide that you want to keep the baby, I will try my hardest to be the best dad to them that I can.” He gently murmured. His words caused you to slightly pull away so you could meet his eyes.

“Marcus, that day you were in my room, I-I never meant what I said,” Your voice cracked, “I was just so upset because I had told everyone about the baby and my mom didn’t really react that well… and she called me stupid, I- I overreacted and I wish I could take back what I said. I never once thought about aborting the baby, our baby.” You sniffed, as more tears fell from your eyes, prompting Marcus to wipe them.

“I’m sorry you had to tell your family by yourself. I wanted to be there with you, and support you. I never should’ve acted like such a fucking asshole when you told me, I was just scared…and just a fucking dipshit, god. I never should have said what I said to you Y/n, and I will never ever act like that ever again. I know I’m the only person you’ve been with and I should have never questioned if the baby was mine, I was being a complete dick. I know you think I’ve been with others but I haven’t. You were my first, and only.” He said, which slightly shocked you.

“What? How did I not know that…”

“I wanted you to think I was cool and I don’t know somewhat experienced, I was dumb and immature.” He responded. You simply nodded, he was.

Marcus cleared his throat, “Y/n, I-I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore and you want to co-parent our baby. I mean- I’ve hurt you so, so much and I wish I could take back all that I did to hurt you, and all the pain that I’ve caused you. So, I-I won’t like it, but I’ll understand.”

You looked at Marcus, his eyes full of remorse, and love. “I love you so much Marcus, with all my heart. And after everything that we’ve been through, I love you just as much as the day I first met you. I still want to be with you, and raise our baby.” You smiled, your eyes scintillating with tears. “But, if you ever, ever treat me or speak to me the way you have been, I will not hesitate to end things. Because as much as I love you, I will not allow anyone to treat me like that again, let alone the father of my child.” You said, trying to keep your voice even, so he couldn’t hear the hurt.

Marcus nodded, “Thank you, for giving me a second chance.” He said cradling your face in his hands. He began to lean in closer toward you, and you followed along, closing the distance between the two of you. As your lips met, you felt tears fall from both his and your eyes as you both poured all of your heart and love into the kiss. Your hands wrapped around his neck, one moving up into his hair and running your hands through his silky strands of hair, as you tried to pull him impossibly closer to you. Marcus was just as eager to be as close to you as possible, pulling you in his lap.

Your lips continually met, kissing until you had to pull away to breathe.

“We're having a baby,” He said as tears of joy fell from both of your guy's eyes. You nodded, your grin matching his own. His eyes widened for a second, “What?” You questioned him.

“We still have to tell my parents.”

“Crap, and Max.” You whined.

“I already told her…”

“Oh, okay. What’d she say?” You said slightly relieved and slightly nervous.

“She didn’t really say how she felt just slapped some sense into me, but I can tell she wanted us to keep the baby..” He smiled.

“Well, I’m glad, remind me to thank her.” You returned a smile to him. He nodded, pulling you into him, once again hugging you, which you gladly accepted. You stayed like that for a couple moments.

“Let’s go and watch the movie with Gin and Austin?”

Marcus nodded with a smile, pulling you to stand with him. Once you both made it to your room, you smiled at the sight of your siblings cuddled together on your bed, waiting for you.

“Make some room for us?” You questioned them.

They both turned to you, raised eyebrows of curiosity.

“We’re keeping the baby, so we’re gonna need all the help we can get.” You grinned, hand in Marcus’s own.

Ginny and Austin had smiles plastered on their faces, as they jumped off your bed and ran towards you and Marcus, pulling both of you into a hug. This caused you and Marcus to laugh. You both had a feeling that everything would be okay. As long as you had each other and your families, you’d be able to overcome anything.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

A/N: I hope this was good and I hope it made y’all cry because once my writing has brought tears to someone's eyes, I’ll know my writing is at least okay, haha. Anyways I kinda wanna write a follow-up to this like about y’all going to the first doctor appointment, and stuff like that!

ALSO, a lot happened in this. I LOVED miller!reader, little!sister!Ginny & BFF!Padma, but how do y’all feel about it? 🤨

don't ask about the fic name i feel like it was kinda related to the fic but also not... I was just listening to champagne problems by taylor swift & was like that’ll do 🥲

& this idea just randomly popped in my head and I had to write it and if the ending feels rushed it’s because it kinda was because I wanted to post this for y’all! 💞

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deanwinchesterswitch · 9 months

Text

Run Away With Me

Summary: Timing is everything.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 935

Warnings: None

Beta: @princessmisery666

Inspired by: Runaway by The Corrs

The door behind you crashes open, a loud crack of plaster emanating as it slams against the wall, and an imposing flannel and denim-clad figure fills the entrance. You hadn’t expected to see him here but aren’t surprised by the intrusion. The rush of air that follows carries his unique cologne of leather, motor oil, and spicy aftershave, and you scold yourself for the deep inhale to momentarily savor its familiar comfort.

“Don’t do it.” His chest heaves with the effort of speaking as if he’s run a marathon.

The gravelly rasp sends your pulse skittering, “Winchester,” but you keep your tone deadpan, suspiciously eyeing his reflection in the mirror in front of you. “You weren’t invited. What are you doing here?”

His almost imperceptible glance to your left tells you all you need to know, and you sigh in exasperation. An amalgam of emotions swirls in the ardent depths of the viridian eyes that again find yours in the mirror’s reflection. Afraid to analyze why your lungs seize as if the entire room has become an airless void, your relief is palpable when he doesn’t give you a chance to.

“He won’t make you happy.”

You inhale sharply, taking a moment to try and calm the fury that overtakes your turmoil as you turn to face him. “I haven’t seen you in over a year. You have no idea who or what makes me happy.”

“That’s not true.” His tone is sure, but no smug smirk backs it up, only a look of dejection.

Tension thickens in the air like the barometric pressure of an oncoming hurricane, and Donna decides to make her escape. Placing a kiss on your cheek, she rubs a hand down your arm, whispering, “Give him a chance to say what he needs to, yeah?”

“You and I will talk later,” you huff, but return the soft smile she gives you before walking toward Dean. She pats him on the chest, and he nods, giving her a brief smile as he steps further into the room to let her pass.

His eyes rake over you, top to bottom and back up. “You’re stunning.”

He says it with such appreciative awe that your casing cracks a tiny bit as you snap, “Why are you here?”

“Missed ya.”

Ah, there’s that cocky grin that has a way of either firing you up or infuriating you—contingent on the circumstances, of course. Scowling at him, you wave a hand down your body. “Kind of busy right now.”

“Yeah, ‘bout that,” he scoffs, “you’re making a mistake. He doesn’t know you like I do. He-”

Unable to stop yourself, you sneer, “As I said, you know nothing.”

If you give him an inch, he will take that mile and then some. You refuse to let him see that you’ve been having doubts, that you’d been caught up in a rip current barely keeping your head above water, and mere minutes before he came bursting in, you’d been talking to Donna about calling the entire thing off.

Ignoring your interruption, he smirks, “I know that under that silky little number,” pointing a finger, “you’re wearing your favorite Chippewas, the black ones. I know there’s a garter on your left thigh, but on your right is your PPK-L in that sexy little holster I bought you.”

Damn him!

He takes a step closer. “Does he know what you used to do? Have you told him what really goes bump in the night?” He nods at the press of your lips, accurately surmising that you haven’t. “So you’re starting this new life with a lie.”

“It’s not a l-”

“An omission of facts?” he supplies, brow arched in arrogance.

“I left for a reason. It hasn’t changed.” He paces like a jungle cat eyeing its prey. Apparently, he has something to get off his chest and isn’t going anywhere until he does. “Say what you came to say, then leave.”

“It has.”

“What?”

“Your reason—for leaving—oh, it’s changed.” Placing a hand over his heart, he states, “Everything fell apart after you left. I tried. I tried to let you go. I knew you’d be better off, happier without me, so I tried to forget about you and move on. Throwing myself into hunt after hunt, drowning in bottle after bottle of cheap booze …nothing worked. You’re everywhere.” The longing in his eyes belies the fierceness of his tone. “Your voice is a constant whisper in my ear. The taste of you lingers on my tongue like good whiskey. My dreams …you- you’re always there. It’s like we’re rigged up to an IV of dream root. Even when I’m awake, you haunt me. You're a ghost that I can’t dispel,” throwing his hands up, he grunts, “and I’m done trying to.”

Swallowing thickly, you stare at him, jaw slack, lips shaped around a heavy exhale. You know he loves you. Understand why he never voiced his deepest emotions or let you get too close. But maybe, now …

“You say I don’t know you, but I do. I always have. And I’m sorry for not giving you what you needed. I’m sorry for hurting you. I came here,” doubt creeps into his features for the first time since muscling into the room, “to beg you for a second chance.”

Your pulse beats like a hummingbird's wings as you mutter in disbelief, “It’ll never stop.”

“What?” The word weighs heavy with defeat in the space between you.

“I’ll never stop falling in love with you.”

Smile radiant, his voice a siren’s song, he extends a hand. “Run away with me.”

Sam's Version

Love Me Some Pie tag list:

@123passwort // @akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deaneverafter // @deans-baby-momma // @deans-spinster-witch // @deanwanddamons // @globetrotter28 // @iamsapphine // @idreamofplaid // @impala-dreamer // @iprobablyshipit91 // @irgendwas122 // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justagirlinafandomworld // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @ladysparkles78 // @lyarr24 // @mimaria420 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @musicissmylife // @mvdeanw // @pallographsunspot // @princessmisery666 // @raisinggray // @shawnie74 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix // @yvonneeeee

#dw's witch writes #run away with me #dean's version #dean winchester #flangst #080923

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thepenultimateword · 1 year

Note

Villain x henchman... Hurt/comfort please ... Fluff and angst

Sorry, this ended up a little more angst than fluff, but I hope you still enjoy!

...

"It's...so...cold."

Villain pressed both hands to the wound in Henchman's abdomen, willing the power--magic, destiny, fate, whatever strings they pulled at their fingertips--to save them.

"Henchman!" It escaped raw and laden with tears, dripping in large drops that streaked the grimy, slackening cheeks below them. "Henchman, no! No! Don't do this to me!"

Snap.

They felt the moment the strings on Henchman broke, like a marionette loosed from its cross brace on a dark stage, crumpling into nothing. One moment, their presence was there, heart beating up the threads and into Villain's hand. The next, they were falling out of reality.

Fast. Too fast.

This wasn't happening.

They had tickets for a play next week. A first date-iversery in a month. There was that dentist appointment Henchman needed a ride back from. And the unscheduled promise of a baking lesson still up in the air.

This couldn't be it.

And yet the strings fluttered, out of hand but still obviously and invisibly right in front of them, drifting to the bottom, if there even was such a thing, of the great unknown.

Until Villain snatched them back.

They weren't exactly sure how they did it. Only that while their corporeal hands staunched a hopeless wound, something discarnate and ephemeral still grasped. They caught the broken threads with a sharp jerk, reeling Henchman's spirit back with the anxious zeal of a fisherman's catch. And as the being that was Henchman settled back against their bones, the wound began to mend, knotted and callused, beneath Villain's palms.

Henchman shot up with a gasp, forcing Villain to lurch back to avoid a collision.

They blinked around the room slowly, taking in the broken glass, bloody floors, and strewn bodies of heroes.

"Where...?"

"Henchman!"

Their head turned and took Villain in slowly, like a confusing museum painting that felt important but ultimately meaningless. It took them a long minute before recognition finally flashed their features.

"Villain?"

Villain tackled them, pinning them to the floor with a stubborn hug. The tears had only grown harder.

"My love." A salty kiss to the corner of their eye. "Oh, my love." Another to their cheek, their jaw, then finally their tightened lips. They pulled back from the stiffness. "Henchman?"

They stared up at them with something like pain. "What happened, Villain?"

Villain hesitated. They didn't need to say it, did they? It hadn't really happened. They'd stopped it. And maybe they were wrong. Maybe they just thought it had been death. Maybe it was unconsciousness. After all, they were right here.

Yet, something in Henchman's face told them a lie--to themself or otherwise--would not help, may not even be believed.

"You died."

Henchman stared steadily onward. "How long?"

"A--A few seconds I think."

That detail seemed to shock them more than the fact that they'd been dead. Their mouth parted, and their eyebrows raised high, cracking the crust of blood on their forehead.

"Henchman?" Villain said again.

Henchman gently pushed Villain off, slipping their palm into the tattered hole of their shirt to feel the badly healed knot in the center of their chest.

"Oh, Villain, what did you do." Not really a question. Their tone said that they already knew. Better than Villain somehow.

Why did they sound sad? Villain saved them! Everything was ok now! A defensive cry rushed to their lips anyway. "Y-you died! I felt you go! didn't...I was so scared, I could feel what ties you here falling, so I just...I just grabbed them again. But...but they were broken, so I tied you myself."

It was amazing really. A miracle. But Henchman only looked tired.

Still, as they looked into Villain's anxious eyes, still shiny from tears, they smiled. Their thumbs wiped the remaining wetness and settled gently on their cheekbones. "It's alright, my love. I'm so happy to see you."

***

Henchman's wound was completely healed, not just scabbed over, but really healed, through and through. Still, Henchman was a little shaky on their feet, and Villain took no time before immediately scooping them into their arms.

Henchman let their head fall into the hollow of Villain's collarbone. "I forgot how this felt," they murmured.

How? Villain wanted to ask. They wanted to ask lots of things. Why was Henchman being so weird? Why were they so calm about dying? Why was there this underlying feeling that Villain had done something wrong?

But Villain didn't actually want to know. Not right now. Right now they wanted home. And everything back to normal.

"Is my place ok?" Villain said. "I'd rather keep an eye on you in case..."

In case I lose you again.

"Sure." Henchman fisted Villain's shirt and leaned a little deeper into their arms. "Let's go to your place."

When they arrived, Henchman looked around for a long time. They had enough balance to stand, so they began peeking around the clutter and furniture.

"Like stepping into a memory..."

It was so soft maybe they hadn't meant to say it out loud.

Villain caught their hand. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Henchman smirked as they guided them into the bathroom. "I think you're the one who needs cleaned up."

Only then did Villain feel their own coating of blood and grime. Testaments of the ambush that lingered fresh, and yet so distant, in the corners of their mind.

"I don't want to--"

"Then stay." Henchman gazed around the bathroom, searching the cabinet and then the drawer before selecting a plush, bleach-stained washcloth and running it under the sink's warm water. They pulled Villain down to the shower rug and began gently dabbing at the blood crusted into their hairline.

Villain felt frozen under their diligent stare. A look as unsettling as it was enthralling. Like they were recommitting every inch of Villain's face to memory.

"You have such pretty eyes," they said, stroking their finger down Villain's brow.

Villain shivered a little. Why did that sound so...distant? Like they were being reminded of a fact?

"Henchman...how long were you gone?"

Henchman smiled, finishing up on their hairline and dragging the cloth down the curve of their face, almost like a caress. "Many years. I suppose time works differently in the beyond than it does here.

Villain's heart clenched. Breath caught. Muscles tight.

"W-what--What did I do?"

Henchman's lips tightened, and their free hand went to their healed wound. But even with something sad behind their eyes, they looked at Villain kindly, lovingly. "You knotted my mortal ties, tethering my spirit permanently to this plane. I will never die again."

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii i @deflated-bouncingball l @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia a @bouncyartist t @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 3 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin remlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotestoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516

#heroes and villains #heroes and villains community #creative writing #writing snippet #villain #villain x villain #villain x henchman #wirtblr #writeblr #hero x villain community #fantasci #fantasy #magic #a gift or a curse #flangst

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sparklepocalypse · 10 days

Text

[Alex/Henry | Rated E | 8.1k words]

Someone clears their throat behind him, and he spins around, hands still gripping the hem of his shirt. “Sorry, hi, I – shit,” he stammers as he takes in Princess Beatrice’s friendly expression and her brother’s more taciturn one. “Sorry, shit. God, sorry. Uh, hello, um… Your, uh, Maj—”

“It’s Your Royal Highness, but please, no titles here,” Princess Beatrice graciously says, saving Alex from himself. “Call me Bea. It looks like we’re teammates! Hen, too.” She nudges her elbow into her brother’s ribs, and he nods wordlessly.

Alex tries to replicate his mom’s politician smile as well as he can. “It’s an honor,” he says, giving them the little bow drilled into his brain before he and his mom had departed for London, through repetitive How to avoid being deported by the English monarchy lessons. “I’m Alex Claremont-Diaz.”

(Or, Alex and Henry meet at a youth charity event as teens.)

@thinkof-england wanted me to hurt her feelings with some Arthur Fox Feels in an AU where Henry and Alex met as teens. I hurt my own feelings in the process. Happy belated, Ashleigh! ❤️

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb fic #my fic #alex claremont diaz #henry hanover stuart fox #alex x henry #firstprince #flangst #birthday fic

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spncvr · 10 days

Note

HIII I kinda suck at writing so maybe you could take my idea and use your amazing writing skills and make something of it? (Only if you want ofc!!) hear me out yk how Spencer rambles about random facts and everything at the bau imagine if he had a partner (was a profiler as well) and that knew a lot about musics or movies and would ramble about it to him?

Ignore this if it sounds stupid 😭

rambles | s. reid

summary: you talk a lot, spencer doesn't mind.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: okay so idk if this counts as gn!reader?? but reader wears a dress lol. drinking, and again my terrible english,, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: hey beautiful!! this deffo does not sound stupid i had fun writing it but this is so bad im sorry i didn't do u justice *crying emoji* also im so sorry this took me forever to finish LMAOOO

masterlist

YOU CAN FEEL it.

In your spine, in your ears. The song’s quiet but it had you in its grip, tight and firm—music’s always been like that to you. It didn’t matter if it was Hendrix, Queen or even Chopin; it has always been the one thing to make you stop dead at your feet. It’s a feeling you can’t quite put your finger on. There wasn’t a word in the English language that could possibly describe how it made you feel. Perhaps, you think humorously, you ought to learn another language, or two.

You’re wearing this dress. This sweet, white silk thing that sweeps against your knees each time you take a step. The taste of expensive wine sits against your lips, lingering. The glass rests idly around your hand and your grip is careful. Expensive red wine and a cheap dress don't usually mix well together.

“You okay?”

You smile, teeth and all. Spencer who’s found his place next to you, furrows his eyebrows worry painted against his soft features. He looks tired. But he’s here, with the rest of the team; he always is.

“Fine,” you say, blasé. “You, Dr. Reid?”

His eyebrows raise slightly, “Yeah, fine.” then, “nice dress.” It’s a small whisper.

You brush your tongue against the wine on your lips. The comment catches you off guard—especially when he’s dressed like this and looks at you like that. So, all that leaves your wine-stained lips is a small: “Oh.” then, because you remember your manners you say, “Thank you.”

The song changes, and Spencer smiles, “The songs—” he says “they’re nice.”

“I—” You stop yourself from rambling because really, they’re more than nice. It’s Elle Fitzgerald. She’s—Her voice, her instrument is clear as a bell, with diction that’s almost impossible to misunderstand. Her rhythm is— well it’s, you can set her as the metronome for her own band. Which, well, isn’t exactly easy to do. The way she’s able to scoop and bend her pitches with such precision is, beyond, nice. So the song, really it’s, more than nice, it’s a masterpiece it’s—

“Uh, yeah, s’nice.” you pause, “More than nice, really.”

Spencer smiles, amused, “More than nice?” he echoes.

You clear your throat, “It— yeah. I mean, it’s Fitzgerald, you know…”

“I don’t know,” he says simply.

Figures, you think. “No, yeah. She’s, like, got this tone in her voice, you know? And it’s like she’s the one leading the band— with the rhythm, I mean. As in like, instead of the drummer, which isn’t exactly easy to do. You know, actually, some people say she — she’s got the voice of an angel. Or something along the lines; can’t really remember and—” you pause, slightly embarrassed at how much you’ve been talking.

“Er, sorry,” you mumble sheepishly. The edge of your shoes had suddenly become increasingly interesting. “didn’t mean to go on a tangent.”

Spencer kisses his teeth, and you look up to find him grinning. “No, uh,” he scratches the edge of his eyebrow. “You don’t need to apologize for talking about something you like.” He seems to think about his next words as he brushes his hand against your arm. It sends a shiver that lingers longer than the touch itself. Spencer Reid could be so cruel sometimes.

“I love listening to you talk.”

Your dress ends up wine-stained, anyway.

as usual my inbox is always open for requests (or just to talk lol) but it will take 192374 years to actually finish it,, reblogs are soo appreciated !! (u guys r always so kind idk why im asking for them) so is feedback btw!! (despretely in need of some)

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weasleyreidstyles · 17 days

Text

Serendipity

chapter seventeen

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): mentions of death (its a funeral), some fluff but it's mainly angst

series masterlist; previous part; next part

In the week following Dumbledore's death, the school had emptied out almost immediately – students were leaving via the Hogwarts Express almost daily and some parents would even apparate into Hogsmeade and meet their children at the gate to escort them home themselves.

No one trusted that Hogwarts was safe for their children anymore. Nowhere was truly safe. Not without the safety that Albus Dumbledore had always provided.

The hallways were desolate by the time two weeks had passed.

Your parents had met you and Hermione at the gates to the castle on they day of Dumbledore's funeral, pulling you both into tight hugs; unwilling to let you go. Molly Weasley had praised your efforts of saving her eldest son from Greyback, not taking into account how worried your parents would become upon not knowing if you were truly alright. Your father, a healer working at St Mungo's had demanded to know whether you should still be in the Hospital Wing recovering, but you'd assured him, and your mother, that you were only left with a few ugly scars.

Scars that you abhorred, but there was nothing you could do about the way they littered the skin of your abdomen. Mattheo had done his best to rid you of those insecurities, pressing lingering kisses to the marred skin whenever the opportunity arose. But the feelings still lingered when you examined the jagged silver lines in your bathroom mirror and in your nightmares where you don't save Bill, but end up worse off.

Hermione too, had assured your parents that she had come out of the battle virtually unscathed after they had turned to her with the same brutal enthusiasm for her safety. But the worry was still apparent in their eyes. You doubted that it would disappear any time soon. Not now that they are in the Order, and know just what you've been up to this year.

A few days after the battle, Hermione and Ron had found you while you sat in the library, enjoying a moment of solitude. They'd sat in the two seats opposite you and were looking at you with nervous expressions on their faces.

"Where's Harry?" you ask without looking up from your book. He was noticeably absent, probably grieving in his own way. Ron coughs awkwardly as Hermione shuffles in her seat.

"He doesn't know we're here, but we need your insight on something." she says and you finally look up at them, both as weathered by the battle as you are, dark circles stain their eyes just as badly as they do on your own face.

"What do you need?" You ask, voice quiet, so you don't draw any unnecessary attention. Ron reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment, which looks old and worn.

"Can you read this, and tell us what you think?" he asks as he places it on the table infront of you.

Hesitantly, you unfold the intricate little thing which reveals the neatest scroll of penmanship you'd ever seen.

To the Dark Lord, I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more – R.A.B

"What the hell does this mean?" You ask, looking up at them with the same confusion mirrored in their eyes. You give Hermione a look and she nods imperceptibly, prompting you to see into her recent memories. You look at them with wide eyes. "The horcrux was a fake?"

"And whoever this R.A.B person is, has the real one." Hermione mumbles with a nod. Ron looks between the two of you before shaking his head and taking the note to examine it for the thousandth time.

You sit back in your seat, disbelief marring your features. Had Dumbledore died for nothing?

~∞~

The actual funeral service was a long, arduous process. But it was truly beautiful, despite the reason for such a large gathering.

The sun shined brightly, even as it began its slow descent in the sky, sending ripples of dazzling sunlight across the surface of the lake, and it was so warm. Warm enough that you had to wear a sundress that had been stuffed right at the bottom of your trunk since you'd returned to school after the Christmas holidays.

It was held on the school grounds, near the Whomping Willow, surrounded by the cascading violet of the wisteria trees that surrounded the banks of the Black Lake, resembling an almost life-like watercolour painting from where you were sat. It seemed that every entity on the grounds, from the people to the flora and fauna, had felt the impact of Dumbledore's death and mourned it on that balmy June evening. Some of the plants were dull where they used to be vibrant; even the birds weren't singing as joyfully.

The atmosphere surrounding the crowd was taut, ripe with with the whispers of conversations that drifted across the assortment of seating like a strange, lulling birdsong. The attendees varied from young students to old scholars, most of which you don't recognise. But you can see members of The Order dotted about the rows sporadically, eying certain rows and glancing conspiratorially between eachother; you understand why when you see Delores Umbridge (and Cornelius Fudge) waltz up the centre aisle into one of the rows near where other Ministry officials, including Rufus Scrimgeour sat, dressed in a vibrant fuchsia pink cloak, a 'grieving' expression painted on her ugly face. They're followed closely by Rita Skeeter, her enchanted pen and pad at hand. The Order members around their row are tense and alert.

You took a seat closer the back of the crowd, beside your parents, dressed in a deep green sundress with embroidered vines of the deepest sepia winding up the skirt in intricate patterns with little bluebells climbing up the stems, to combat the stifling heat of summer, and your wand is tucked into a thin, onyx holster on your waist.

Ron had clearly forgiven you to some extent, evident in the way he'd willingly sought you out in the library over a week ago, but he was still wary of the Slytherins you surrounded yourself with; Harry seemed content with bypassing your existence entirely. It was probably wise to sit further away from them, especially because it was obvious that Harry blamed your friends for Dumbledore's death. You can see the back of Ginny's head, where she's sat with the Golden Trio about five rows ahead of you. Even from where you are, you can see how she grips onto Harry's hand for dear life.

You can even feel Mattheo's eyes on you from his seat at the very back of the procession.

Can feel the way his magic calls to your's.

He's sat with Pansy to his left, Theo to his right and Enzo and Blaise are beside them.

Draco is nowhere to be seen.

The five of them have received a multitude of looks from those surrounding them, and you would be stupid not to see the amount of Aurors and Order members who had ended up seated near them.

Just thinking about the fact that they were surrounded as if they were a guild of threatening wizards, when they were still students at this very school, made your blood boil.

They still were not trusted, despite Remus vouching for them personally. Only a few members: the twins, Andromeda Tonks and her husband, Ted, seemed to acknowledge the risk that your friends were taking by just being at the school. Even your own parents were wary. Especially now. Voldemort was actively gathering more support and wreaking havoc across the country – wizard and muggle world alike.

Despite all the eyes on him, Mattheo appears to be surprisingly relaxed. But that's only because you are in his eye line. Dressed in a pretty sundress, with your hair cascading down your back and shoulders in delightful curls that he has the urge to tug on. Only you and his friends know just how tense he truly was, surrounded by people he didn't trust; people who didn't trust him.

You look lovely. You smile at the warmth in his voice, body thrumming with the heat of his gaze from a few rows behind you. Discreetly, so you don't attract your parents' attention, you turn to face Mattheo, who has a smirk widening on his face as he takes in the flush that dusts your cheeks, despite the tension that sits on his broad shoulders.

So do you. You reply, catching your bottom lip with your teeth instinctively as your eyes trail the length of his body. What you can see of it, at least.

He's dressed in a suit of all black – no ounce of colour aside from the singular indigo bluebell in the breast pocket of his suit jacket, one that he'd conjured when he noticed the patterns on your dress. His hair is unruly as always, blowing wildly in the soft breeze.

Stop looking at me like that, darling. It's inappropriate. His handsome smirk widens with his smugness.

I can't help it. Especially when you look at me like that.

He narrows his onyx eyes playfully at you and you turn around before anyone can notice your brief interaction, exhaling a breathy laugh as you shake your head. His own laughter reverberates through your mind like a gentle caress, igniting a spark in your core.

Strangely, you can feel his magic like its your very own, even two weeks after it had initially exploded around you.

Neither you or Mattheo have an answer for it. And neither of you are in a hurry to share the discovery, for it felt far too intimate to involve anyone else.

~∞~

As the service began the merfolk, who had gathered at the bank of the lake, had begun a sorrowful tune, their pallid skin glistening in the sun, wirey hair spreading about the murky waters. As they sang their song of loss and despair, Hagrid had started to walk down the central aisle, his face blotchy and red with tears that fell heavily from his eyes. He was cradling something in his arms, or rather someone, wrapped in velvet fabric of the deepest purple, spangled with glittering golden stars. A cloak that many students had deemed as Professor Dumbledore's personal favourite over the years, as it was his most frequently worn one.

It was becoming harder to swallow as a sob crawled its way up your throat at the sight. You gripped your father's hand in your's tightly and he squeezed back.

At that moment, it seemed like all the warmth from the sun was sucked from the atmosphere, as a cold shiver ran down your spine. You couldn't feel the powerful allure of his magical core anymore. His covered body looked so small and frail in Hagrid's arms and you finally let out a muffled sob as he makes his way past your row.

You feel a wave of love, sorrow and care caress your mind, which lets you know that, despite the indifference he holds towards his Headmaster, Mattheo was also feeling the devastation that their safety blanket; the one who was supposed to help defeat great evil, was gone.

When Hagrid was near the front, you could hardly see what was happening due to the amount of heads that obscured your view, but you can hear the distinct sound of hooves on stone as a herd of centaurs make their presence known, but they did not move from the trees and their shadows. They were stood preternaturally still as they observed with their bows and weapons laying limply at their sides.

Dumbledore's body had been gently placed onto a table of pure white quartzite, that made the colours of his cloak shine vibrantly in the steadily setting sun. The tune from the merfolk reached a slow end and from what you could make out, a small Ministry official, dressed in plain black robes stood beside the table, where a small stand had been erected.

From your seats, you and your parents could hardly hear what was said in Dumbledore's honour and when he stopped speaking and took his seat again, a palpable silence swept over the crowd when no one else got up to pay their respects. It was like a brutal finality had swept over the courtyard.

Albus Dumbledore was never coming back. You were on your own in this battle.

Suddenly, bright white flames errupted around the quartzite table and Dumbledore's body, growing higher and higher, spiralling in pretty patterns as a pheonix flew amongst the inferno joyfully as if rising from the ashes, before disappearing with an abrupt flash of golden light. The white fire, too, had vanished with the pheonix, leaving a white marble tomb in it's place.

More cries of shock are let out as a shower of arrows soared through the air, falling like dangerous silver-tipped raindrops into a clearing far away from the crowd. The centaurs turned and disappeared without a trace once they'd paid their tribute; the merfolk sunk below the surface of the Black Lake promptly after them.

~∞~

"Well...that was depressing." Theo's voice was low, sarcasm etched in his tone. Blaise and Enzo rolled their eyes as Pansy openly gaped at him as passers by gave him looks of disgust.

"Don't disrespect the dead, Teddy." You admonish with a scathing look, that he only bats away with shrug of his shoulders.

"Oh lighten up, tesoro. We all know he wouldn't have cared for all this seriousness." He says, bringing you into a side along hug, ruffling your carefully done hair with calloused hands. You bat them away with an irritated huff.

As soon as you were able to, you'd made a beeline for your friends, wrapping a sniffling Pansy into a hug, comforting eachother in silence as you sent words of affection mind to mind.

Now the six of you are stood off to the side, ostracised from where many of Dumbledore's Army are stood, sharing recollections of Dumbledore's life. Harry, Ron and Hermione are nowhere to be seen.

Mattheo is a silent, imposing wall of stoicism. He doesn't take part in you're friend's untimely banter, and hardly reacts to the scathing, untrustworthy looks that are sent his way.

You send a wave of your emotions to him, love pooling over the anxiety, which causes his stiff muscles to loosen as you reach over to take his hand in your's. Unashamedly you press kisses to his scarred knuckles, running a careful hand across his arm, and thread your fingers with his.

His onyx eyes are alight with gratitude, as the two of you listen to Theo and Enzo bicker.

Suddenly your isolation is cut off by a woman who looks exactly like the one who subjected you to the cruciatus curse a year ago. Her presence makes you startle on instinct, but that feeling is overcome with guilt as Andromeda Tonks, strong-willed, beautiful, stoic and regal; a good friend to your mother and Remus, stands before you with warm, russett eyes.

"Hello Meadow." She greets you, her voice soft and low, matching the slight hauty expression that matched Sirius' with haunting accuracy.

"Hi Andy." You reply, your brows crease in confusion when her husband is nowhere to be found. "Where's Ted?"

"Talking to your father and Remus, I believe." She says, a gentle look overtaking her features that makes her appear youthful and stress free, but that look is gone in a split second when her dark eyes trail to Mattheo's hand, still in your grasp and up to his carefully guarded face.

"You look scarily like your father." She says and you feel the way Mattheo imperceptibly flinches at her observation. The boys and Pansy stop their conversation to form a solid wall of mistrust behind the two of you, faces resigned and stony.

She must sense their growing hostility because she relaxes the harshness from her face, replacing it with apology.

"I mean no offfence." She says slowly, face twisting with regret. "We cannot help who are parents are, after all."

Mattheo doesn't relax, but he knows that you clearly trust her. Andromeda turns to face you instead, that soft look that painted her aristocratic face when she first saw you, appearing again.

"I've come to offer an olive branch of sorts." She tells you. "Remus vouched for the all of you and my nephew during a previous meeting and I'm inclined to agree with him."

"Nephew?" Blaise questions and you turn to see that they all look equally as confused.

"This is Andromeda Tonks, previously Andromeda Black." You introduce her formally with a light smile on your face, and the recognition lights up on your friends' faces when you do. "Draco's Aunt."

"I do wish I was meeting your friends under different circumstances, Meadow." She says.

"What's this olive branch you mentioned?" You ask curiously, steering the conversation back in the direction it had been going in before being sidetracked.

"I'm offering my home as a safe house for you all." Andromeda replies, casting her eyes on your Slytherin friends again.

"What's the catch?" Mattheo asks, his voice filled with suspicion, his grip on your hand tightening with his growing paranoia. You sooth him unconsciously with a stroke of your fingers against his knuckles. Andromeda's careful eyes catch the moment almost immediately.

"We know you're already inducted into your father's regime, unwillingly." She says quietly, wary of Mattheo untrusting stance. "With Severus gone, it is imperative that we know what we're dealing with."

"You need spies." Theo says with certainty, his face twisting with barely restrained contempt.

Andromeda only nods once.

Theo, Enzo and Mattheo seem to have a three way conversation mentally before they come to a decision and it's Enzo who speaks up first.

"Who else besides Professor Lupin, know about this?"

"Meadow's parents, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody."

You stare up at Mattheo with uncertainty. Would they really put their lives at risk for an organisation that barely trusts them?

"Are there any other conditions?" Mattheo asks, stepping towards Andromeda slightly, but not in any threatening way.

"Gather as much information as you can, as safely as you can. And get my nephew and my sister out of that Manor."

"What about after the war?" Pansy asks, having been silent throughout the whole exchange. "Like you said, they're already inducted. If the war goes in Potter's favour, will they be pardoned?"

Andromeda seems to still at that, as if she didn't know the answer and suddenly every single one of you are on edge as you consider the possibility that, if the boys help, they could be thrown right into Azkaban to rot, simply for carrying the burden of the Dark Mark.

"After the war," Andromeda whispers, "there will be justice. But I cannot predict the outcome, and we won't win without your help. I know how Voldemort's court works, for I was part of it for much of my youth before I got out. What you're doing already is proof enough that you are inherently good, even if most people don't see it."

"But what if-" Pansy replies but Andromeda holds out one of her slim, pale hands to gently silence her trail of thought.

"Thinking of that now will not help you during this. You mustn't for it will dull your hope for a better future. Take the offer, my house is in a quiet muggle town. No one will bother you there and it's delightfully warm this time of year."

You each exchange silent but definitive looks before Mattheo nods towards her once and immediately the six of you are given the image of a quaint cottage that sits on the edge of a seaside town, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

"Ted and I will visit occasionally, to make sure our house is not in disarray. Remus or Alastor will deliver your assignments on a biweekly basis."

"Where will you stay, if we're taking up your space?" You ask and Andromeda offers you a friendly smile.

"With your parents in a safe house of our own. With them working high profile jobs in the Ministry and St Mungo's and being 'suspected' members of the Order, they can't be living somewhere anyone can find them."

You blink back your surprise emotions at the implications of her statement. It dawns on you then. The severity of everything happening around you.

Their need for an insider means that The Order weren't as prepared as they wanted people to believe.

They were willing to send your friends to the snake pit so they would have a chance to save themselves.

~∞~

The cottage stands at the end of a winding lane in Falmouth, Cornwall. It's all cobblestoned streets and thatch roofed houses, surrounded by idyllic fields and the most stunning views of beach for as far as the eye could see.

It was certainly out of the way – the nearest village was about a thirty minute walk away.

The perfect place to erect a safe house.

The six of you are stood infront of the picket fenced gate, bags in hand as your parents, Andromeda, Ted and Remus finish putting up the final protective enchantments.

It's been a week since the funeral. In that week, you spent every possible second with your parents, who seemed reluctant to let you stay here. All week, they'd been asking you to join them in their own safe house; one accidental peak in their minds told you all you needed to know for the reason why.

They didn't trust your friends. They especially didn't trust Mattheo.

Now, you stand beside him, tucked into his side as Remus gives you a debrief of instructions for the boys' first task.

"When is the next meeting?" He asks Mattheo, head tilting as you all stand in the cramped kitchen of the cottage, your parents and the Tonks couple nowhere to be seen.

Mattheo opens his mouth to answer, but grimaces as the Mark on his forearm burns in earnest, warning him...daring him to answer. You feel his pain in the very depths of your soul, scrunching your face at the feeling that brushes over you, even as you squeeze his hand in your's.

No one seems to notice other than Remus, who stares between you and Mattheo almost too quickly that you could have missed it.

"I see." He nods to himself as Mattheo runs his hand against his agitated forearm. "Does this happen whenever you try and disclose information."

"Only with the more top secret things." Enzo says from beside Pansy, who has already found where the mugs are as she sips on a steaming cup of tea.

Remus is silent for a moment, as if contemplating whether or not this would even work, before he speaks again.

"At the next meeting, try and gather as much information as possible. Even if it seems meaningless – but only if it doesn't pain you." He says gently. Remus knows pain, and he knows how detrimental it can be for a person.

He doesn't want to see this group of young adults go through what he did, but he knows it's futile, and hypocritical of him to wish, for he's the one sending them into the snake pit.

"How's 'meaningless' information going to help the Order?" Theo asks with skeptical eyes.

"We need to buy Harry time." Remus says, but he doesn't divulge any further.

"Why?" You ask from Mattheo's side and Remus' gaze turns to you.

"You know why, Meadow." He says and your face twists in confusion before realisation sets in.

"He's going to hunt horcruxes instead of returning to Hogwarts, isn't he." It's not a question and in the way that Remus tenses, you know you're right.

"Yes, Meadow. But I'm afraid what they found wasn't a real one."

This, you already knew of course.

"What do you mean, it wasn't real?" Mattheo sounds like he doesn't believe a word Remus says, and one look up at his face confirms the disbelief in his tone.

"It was a fake. Something transfigured into a replica of the Locket." Remus pulls out a polaroid photo from his pocket. In the centre of the blurred image, sits a locket with a similar insignia to the ring that Dumbledore had handed to you in the Hospital Wing at the start of the year.

"That's not possible." Mattheo snarls and you take it upon yourself to push him into one of the chairs at the dining table, lest he try and launch himself at your old Professor.

"It is very possible." Remus says without a blink. "You see, in the first war, we had a spy. Only few of us knew of his identity but he told us that he'd discovered something. He'd found out about horcruxes and was going to singlehandedly destroy them himself.

One day he was scheduled to come to a meeting, to discuss any progress with his discovery, and to also give us more information on who was on Voldemort's side, but he didn't show up.

Three days later, his house elf, Kreacher showed up in my flat. He didn't even get a funeral."

Remus' voice was soft and desolate as he told you this information, eyes foggy as he relives one of the most traumatic times of his life. Your eyes are alight with realisation almost as soon as he's finished speaking.

"Kreature? Isn't that-"

"Sirius' family house elf? Yeah he is." Remus replied, his eyes glassy.

"Sirius had a brother-" you whisper, your voice betraying your sadness at the thought of the eccentric man.

"Yes. His name was Regulus Black."

~∞~

omg she's finally posted!😱😱

a few things...first of all i have 1000 followers!?! wtf!! thankyou with my whole heart 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

secondly...i've been revamping the layout of my posts but theres an issue with a couple of them (cough...chapter 16....cough) and it wont let me edit those posts but thats fine😶😶😶😶

anyway hope you enjoyed this one....the cliffhanger wasn't planned but then i liked how it flowed to the start of chapter 18 so hehehehe

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover

@thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony

@dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf

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@whatsupb18

#serendipity series #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys x reader #ravenclaw x slytherin #pansy parkinson x reader #enzo berkshire x reader #blaise zabini #theodore nott x reader #harry potter #hermione granger x reader #ron wealsey x y/n #ginny weasley x reader #pansy parkinson #flangst #angst

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kaylasficrecs · 10 months

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swans dancing by the tides | nikolai lantsov

you were supposed to be royal acquaintances, helping each other learn other nations better, but maybe you ended up just being kids who didn’t care for each other at all, at first...

au where none of the darkling stuff happened. grisha may still exist but are not important to this story. this is kind of a mix between book and show nikolai, so just bear with me.

note: sorry the request took so long to write, but i’ll be honest, i don’t typically write fics, i recommend them. so here is my first ever published writing on tumblr! i ended up taking some liberties with the storyline, but i was inspired by the request because it reminded me so much of the swan princess. so i hope you enjoy!

tw: talks of violence and death

wc: 4.8k

Age 21

Nikolai Lantsov really should have seen it coming.

For wasn’t it the classic trope of pulling a girl’s ponytail on the playground to get her to chase you? To get her attention, only on you? Playing small tricks to see you.

At 21, you seemed to be as beautiful as ever. Not that you were never beautiful, but you had finally found a place in court, settled into your personality. Your kindness and stubbornness oppose each other wonderfully. Being social enough to appease your father, but sipping your drink in different corners for most of the night. You had settled into yourself, and Nikolai hated that he let you get away.

Age 5

Nikolai was too young to know that he met his future love when he was young. All he remembers from that summer was loving the sea, tasting the salt on his tongue, and wanting to order the crew to just keep sailing, and keep his young dreams true. Little kids don’t remember first glances, side-eyes, and names. Just the moments he spent on the Wandering Isle happily rolling around in a war-free zone with a young girl. Y/h/c hair blowing in the breeze. And your laugh, that is one thing Nikolai can never get out of his mind, memorized it that summer. Oh, how it would be the most annoying sound for years to come.

Age 11

You had never understood why your father needed to show you the different countries around the True Sea. Sure you loved being out on the ocean (even though the thought of drowning terrified you); you recognized that it brought you closer to your dead mother, and realized that your father felt the same. But you would have been perfectly content still in your little country house during the summer months away from the castle on the Wandering Isle. The coastal home that you yearned for was now sitting in dust, sailing to leave it behind to spend two months in some stuffy castle with people you don’t know, just to keep royal alliances tight.

You supposed you remembered the young, blond-haired prince from once upon a time. At least you were supposed to remember, but something needed to be more familiar about the royal. Except maybe his eyes, you could briefly remember the coloring clashing against green hills and blue skies. They had shown a golden brown that day. You spoke no words, only polite greetings when getting off the carriage. You didn’t want to be here, you wanted to be back home, or at least out on the sea. You were primarily shy to your hosts, wanting to slink away to the guest room for a little bit before exploring, hoping to find the library you’ve heard so much about, then in turn, a good reading spot, away from any prying eyes.

As it turned out, the library was right down the hall from your room. So, your wish had come true, sneaking off to the library every night was going to be a piece of cake. Settling down in a chair near a light in there, you eventually heard two voices after a while of reading.

“You sure we should be doing this?”

“Come on! She’s here for a little while, she should know what she’s getting into just by being here.”

You peeked around the big wooden door to see two heads of short-cut hair outside a bedroom door. Your bedroom door. It was too dimly lit for you to see what they were doing properly, but you would rather not find out later.

“Would you mind telling me why I happen to be getting myself into something?” you said at the two boys.

They froze before turning around. One happened to be your gracious host, Prince Nikolai, the other was unfamiliar. “Well, we just thought that we should be the ones to initiate you into Ravkan customs, seeing as you’ll be here for a while,” the blond said.

“Ravkan customs? That happens at 1:00 in the morning?”

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

“Yep.”

“Well, seeing as I’m not even in my room and caught you two, you could just tell me so I’m not surprised when I wake up.”

“Oh no. You’re going to want to experience this one. It’s only for royalty so we must continue,” Nikolai decided to up the ante, he needed to prank her now so he wasn’t forced to hang out with her for two months. He already has to deal with Vasily, he didn’t need another snitch, and this one will shut her right up.

“Well, I guess that’s okay, could I please get to my bed though? And please don’t make too much noise. This is an adjoining room with my father’s.”

“Of course! Goodnight, princess.”

And of course, getting glue all over your face in the morning was just the first prank of many. All summer you tolerated Nikolai and Dominik’s pranks, never being able to quite outsmart them. Those mischievous eyes would haunt you for the year. Until you would see them every summer.

Age 15

Nikolai had been waiting to be out on the sea. Everything back at the Grand Palace was shit and he needed to get away. Even if that meant sailing to where you were. You had been in Ravka every summer now, for around two months each time. The first two were spent trying to get along with Nikolai and Dominik, yearning for any kind of friendship. Then, for the last two years, you had gone on ignoring them. Rather, you spent time walking around gardens, trying to help out the less privileged in Os Alta, and reading. Most of the time when Nikolai saw you last year, your head was stuck in a book. He was not looking forward to just being ignored by you, in a foreign place no less.

When he got to the Wandering Isle, he did not expect to be greeted by you. Undoubtedly the king at the very least, but no, it was just you.

“y/n?” Nikolai said. “What? No royal greeting and red carpet to greet me?”

“Let’s just get this over with,” y/n stated, walking briskly toward the carriage. Nikolai frowned, did you really not care for him in the slightest?

You pointed out different landmarks and special shops from the window, giving waves to those who caught that their princess was in the vehicle. Once you got to the palace, you left some maids to show him to his rooms. And that was the most he heard from you for a lot of the trip. Of course, you made polite conversation at breakfast and dinner when he saw you and your father, but that was all. He would take trips to the coast alone, exploring the island. Though he knew you weren’t necessarily a friend, he was hoping to at least spend time with you. Not just going out to the ocean alone, or chatting to the king about royal policies and whatnot.

Eventually, he found your secret hiding place on a beach close to the castle with only two weeks left in his trip. You were so immersed in reading, that you didn’t notice him walking up. Nikolai took some time to observe you a little. He hadn’t taken note of how much you had grown, seeming to look less like the little girl that he would prank, and more like…

Well more like something.

“What the hell are you doing here?” y/n had finally noticed the crown prince standing.

“Didn’t know princesses were capable of that language.”

Y/n signed, “Look. I’ve left you to your own devices all summer, could you please leave me alone to mine? I’ve stayed out of your way so I wouldn’t bother you, and you wouldn’t bother m-”

“Wait. You think you bother me?”

“Isn’t that why you and Dominik used to prank me all the time?”

“Well… a bit, but no! Of course not! You were just an easy target and I was more immature back then.”

“Wow, Nikolai.” He took note of the way she said his name, for the first time ever if he recalled correctly. “An easy target. Okay, well then. Let’s just call this a bit of a truce and you can leave me here to read to make up for it.” Y/n turned back to her book, seemingly done with him.

“Don’t you want to get to know each other better? Can’t you see where this is leading?” Nikolai was a little exasperated at this point. He had never really liked her, but something was going to happen between them, forced together or not, he would like to know something about the y/h/c girl. Besides, his name sounded nice rolling off her tongue…

“I try not to overthink about that.” She was speechless for a time, trying to come up with an excuse to continue to ignore one another. She finally said, “There are plenty of royal couples you don’t speak to each other while together. I’m sure you and I could manage that.”

Nikolai rolled his eyes, he suddenly remembered why he disliked her so much, those eyes transfixed on him. He bowed to her, “If that is what you wish, your highness,” and strolled off back to the palace to find something to slash with a blade.

But he came back the next day, to find her sitting in the same spot, reading a different book this time.

“Wh-”

“Ah, ah, ah. I am here to read by the beach and enjoy the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.” Y/n looked at him aghast. She tried to protest him again, but he just shushed her. Actually shushed her! Y/n didn’t want to deal with the pain an argument would cause, so she just read.

This carried on for a few days, Nikolai coming and sitting with y/n to read in the afternoon until they would both have to attend dinner with the king. On day five of their reading escapades, y/n asked what he was reading, having never seen that book before.

“Well, it’s a tale of danger and romance and handsome men like me.”

Y/n couldn’t help but let out a little giggle before asking, “Where did you even find that?”

“I asked the bookkeeper down in town about the books you liked.”

She looked at him a bit funny, wondering how he would ever think to go about that; reading a book just for attention must be the poly at foot. But it worked because she suddenly recognized the title and knew it had been one of her favorites.

They talked through dinner that night about the novel, giving her over-protective father a bit of a fright, but easing his worry when he noticed his daughter had come back with Prince Nikolai. This kept going for the remainder of Nikolai’s stay, reading and talking, eventually more than just books were talked about. He now knows your favorite foods, novels, places, and more.

Like how he arrived, you were the only one to escort him back to his ship. This time, you took your time walking through the village. Just chatting occasionally, but you both mostly just enjoyed the comfortable silence, trying to soak up each other's presence.

“You know I still hate you right?” Y/n finally spoke as they reached the docks.

“Of course princess, I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Nikolai said with a sly smile.

“But you promise to write though?” Looking back, that’s when Nikolai knew he was done for. Y/n looked at him with her beautiful eyes, reflecting a bit of the sea in the orbs. “About books that you’ve read that you recommend for me okay.”

More sincerely, less with that teasing voice of his, “Yes. Of course princess.”

Age 17

Y/n was too stubborn to say that she was excited to see Nikolai again. Because she didn’t even really like him. Right?

You had kept writing letters back and forth for the better part of more than a year. You hadn’t gotten any back recently, so you were excited to see him. Maybe?

To be fair, mostly you were going to make sure he was okay after doing his military service. You knew he had lost Dominik during that time, and you just wanted to hug him. Strangely enough? A hug? You must be losing your mind, but you couldn’t help your breathing from stuttering when you saw the cost of Ravka.

You were supposed to wait for a ride from the Prince himself in Os Kervo, but he didn’t show. You had been waiting in a cafe for hours, not far from the docks when it finally reached nightfall. You and your guards had to book lodgings for the night, you would worry about Nikolai tomorrow.

Well, he ended up never coming and word from the Grand Palace just said that he was out, seemingly not knowing where their own son was. As you turned back to go home, you sent out wishes of good health and safety to wherever Nikolai was.

Age 18

Nikolai had found peace at sea. Finally finding himself in waves of blue and green, chasing adventure.

He found where he belonged. A bastard prince at sea, not in a land where he felt unwelcome.

When his face was changed by Tolya the first time, he let himself forget the ‘prince life’ for a little while. Helping fight the dangerous and untamed pirates on a ship of his own. He loved the feeling of salt on his tongue and a swaying ship beneath his boots. Never once trying to think about how the ocean would reflect in your eyes.

Age 21

You could finally see why your father sailed with you when you were young. Though it helped to meet other dignitaries and make sure people still knew that the Wandering Isle was still a power in this world surrounding the sea. And of course, he told everyone his daughter wanted to see the world, setting out into the blue for the sake of you.

Now, you could see that he just wanted to get away. Yes, spend time with you. But there was something about being on a boat, away from the responsibility and regulations of being a ruler of a country.

Especially when you were doing it all alone.

You took the longest breath you’ve been allowed since your father died. Let yourself take a moment just for you, opening your mind. The wind and fresh air brought a smile to your face. Though, you were sailing towards a place you were dreading.

You were back in the Grand Place for the first time in years, though it felt lifetimes away from you. Queen Y/n was invited this time as an official guest, part of an assembly at the palace for who knows what.

You didn’t like thinking about Ravka. You had sent a few letters to Nikolai after you had gone back to the Wandering Isle at the age of 18, but when he didn’t reply to the last three, you never bothered sending a fourth. You had kept busy though, both on purpose and not. Your father’s death had been a bit of a shock last year and you were thrust into the role of leading a nation.

But you tried your hardest to handle it with grace. Most things had gone well, you had kept your country steady while making hard decisions and balancing all the misogyny with being a queen ruling alone. The only side-effect had been a few panic attacks here and there, but otherwise, you were okay. Doing really well in fact, at least that's what you told everyone at the gathering.

Your gown was modest and blue with some cream-colored accents; not trying to attract any unwanted attention but still trying to represent your country. You mostly kept to yourself throughout the festivities with a drink in your hand. You quickly assessed that this was mostly a social event, a secret meeting between royals and diplomats, you still weren’t quite sure why you had even been invited.

That was until you caught a pair of hazel eyes that haunt you when you think about the seaside reading spot, grassy hills, and curving letters.

Nikolai stared at you for what felt like minutes, though it was a quick few seconds till you dashed out of the room. The Prince tried to follow but was swept up by others.

You couldn’t quite believe that he was back. Alive and well from the looks of it. And of course, at that moment you remembered what day it was, his 22nd birthday.

In all of the chaos of leading a country, you forgot that it had been fast approaching. When you received the invite for the party, you listened to one of your advisors when they said that it would be good for you to make connections. So you left. Mainly you just needed to be out on the ocean once again, feeling your mother’s voice whisper to you in the winds off the waves.

Now, as you stood outside the Grand Palace, you were begging your body not to break down. It was all too much between the travel, social interaction, and seeing Nikolai for the first time in six years. With the ringing in your ears and your breathing not being able to go back to a regular pace, you never heard his boots coming up right behind you.

“Y/n?” Nikolai called as he saw you standing in the middle of the courtyard. “Look, I’m sorry I wa- are you alright?”

You could briefly hear someone in the background, and as you prayed that it wasn’t him, you started to hyperventilate even faster.

Nikolai rushed over to you the minute he heard your breathing pick up again. This time standing in front of you he asked, “Y/n, darling, are you okay?”

Your vision was starting to go spotty, and you could briefly hear the person in front of you ask if you were okay, so you shook your head.

“Okay, okay. It’s alright sweetheart. It’s gonna be okay,” Nikolai wrapped his arms around your shaking frame.

When he hugged you, you initially started to cry harder, you couldn’t deal with him. But the longer he just held you outside in the cool air of Os Alta at night, the more you felt a sense of peace. You must have stayed in his hold for 20 minutes while he was rocking you back and forth and whispering phrases of comfort, “Listen to my heartbeat, you’re okay. You’re just outside the palace with me. Everything is alright.”

When everything had finally calmed down, only did he let you off his chest, still keeping his arms partly wrapped around you, “Darling, are you doing alright?”

You didn’t know when he had started to refer to you as darling (you might have recalled it from a few of his letters), but that made you catch up with reality as you took a breath, “Alright? That’s all you have to ask me right now!” You pushed away from him, “I don’t see you for six years and that’s how you speak to me! I’m not your darling right now Nikolai!”

“Alright, alright.”

“If you say alright one more time…”

“Okay. Look. I’m sorry, a lot of shit has happen-”

“You’ve had a lot of shit happen. God Nik, I forgot how self-centered you can be. You make me want to slap you.”

“Then go ahead! I know I deserve it Y/n. I know. I do. But I just needed to invite you here. See if you would show.”

“Why? Why did you call for me now? You haven’t bothered in the past few years.”

“Because I miss you, okay! I miss you. I miss your writing and our talks about literature. I miss seeing your face and hearing your laughter. I miss your stubborn ass. Your beautiful and shy mind… but mostly I just needed to see your eyes. The eyes that hold the night sky for me. The eyes that I see when I look out onto the ocean. The ones I wished I hadn’t let get so far away.” He reached for you, cupping your face in his hands, rubbing his thumbs along your cheeks to wipe away tears, even if it was the only time he ever got to do so. Then he spoke words that you were afraid of hearing, “Stay. Please, let me make it up to you. Please just stay.”

You finally looked into his captivating, mischievous hazel eyes, yearning to give the answer he craved, the answer you wanted to say at the tip of your tongue.

But sadly, something else fell off your lips, “I can’t Nik,” you sobbed and his face fell, eyes losing hope. “I have a kingdom to rule now. I can’t just stay in Ravka and leave everyone behind. I was supposed to be making alliances tonight, I thought this was just a networking thing. I forgot it was your birthday,” he smiled a bit at that, he supposed it was warranted. “God I wish I could,” your lips trembled as you said the last part, “but I have to leave you here. I need to go home.”

Nikolai took a stuttering breath, knowing he couldn’t change your mind, his stubborn girl. “Well then, is it too much to ask for just tonight then?”

You smiled a little, “And ditch your own party, Nikolai? I could never ask that.”

“I’m not asking, I’m offering”

The smile that he spent so long dreaming of finally broke across your face, “Okay then, my prince, what shall we do for the night?”

“I can think of a few things.” You gave an eye roll at that.

Nikolai and Y/n had spent the whole night raiding the kitchen and building a fort in his bedroom, talking the night away, sharing grief and sorrows as well as joyous moments. She ended up falling asleep on his shoulder at some point, and him not long after.

Awaking in the morning was torture, meaning their night had come to a close. They could no longer just be friends under a blanket fort, instead a queen going back to her nation and a prince returning to duty for the first time in years. They didn’t talk much that morning, as he saw her off to her ship. Y/n couldn’t bear to hug him, for she might never let go. So Nikolai did the most charming thing he could muster without breaking down. “Till we meet again, princess,” lifting and kissing the back of her hand as he bowed a little. The gesture made her giggle and tears to well up yet again.

He would keep that sound locked away for as long as he could.

“I’m a queen now Nik, come on.”

“I know. But I thought if I annoyed you a little before you left, you wouldn’t miss me as much,” mustering his best smile at the moment for her.

He almost didn’t hear the next word y/n mumbled, but he would be forever grateful that he could, “Impossible.”

“Goodbye Nikolai.”

“Goodbye, my darling.”

Age 23

Nikolai had kept busy with royal duties this time, instead of sailing away his grief and trauma. He knew the ocean made him think of her and he couldn’t have that, not when he was trying to prepare to rule a country.

His father had taken ill and wasn’t looking any better in weeks since it started. And Vasily was… well Vasily, in no shape to rule Ravka.

So Nikolai was trying his best. Key word trying.

The days were getting so long until a butler walked into his study one day, “Can you not see I’m busy with stuff right now.”

“Yes. I know sir. But you had informed me to alert you in any news or business related to the kingdom of the Wandering Isle.”

“Yes?” Nikolai suddenly sounded more hopeful.

“Well, one of the maids was cleaning and found this stash of unopened letters from what would be the future Queen Y/n Y/l/n. I thought this might be of interest.”

“Leave.”

“I beg your pardon, your highness?”

“Leave the letters and get out. Please,” He knew he was being rude, but he couldn’t possibly care at the moment.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as the servant walked out. Nikolai had stood from his desk, looking at the bundle of letters. He heard the door shut as he looked upon the familiar hand script scrawled across the front, reading his name. There were at least eight letters that you had sent to the palace while he was off being Sturmhond. He sat in a chair by the fireplace to settle down as read words from the person he missed the most, whose eyes he yearned to see.

Y/n was so present in the letters, your tone and stubbornness coming out in each line. But they got a little sadder as he read through them; you were wondering why he hadn’t replied in a while. Concern spread out in your words, just hoping that he was okay. His emotions were thin as he picked up the last letter, scared of how it would make him feel. But he had to push through, he needed to feel a bit guilty about how he left you alone.

Nikolai,

I think this is going to be my last letter. You haven’t written back in almost a year.

I wrote a letter to your parents, again, recently. They don’t know where you are either, and I know they're worried. So, if this ever reaches you Nik, please let them know you’re okay. And selfishly, I need to know that you're doing alright too. Just a simple note or a sign, I just need to know that you are okay.

Please.

I just. I need you right now Nik. I need your words. It’s just so much right now. I know I haven’t mentioned this in my past letters because I didn’t want to worry you, but my dad passed away. I haven’t really had time to process it and now I have to run a country all by myself. I could just really use some classic words of wisdom from you, some comfort if you could spare that.

But mostly I just need you. Your eyes and golden hair. Your stupid jokes and even more stupid pranks (they truly are the worst love). I need your hugs and your musky scent around me. When I’m too overwhelmed, I try to think of your eyes. The hazel color brings a lot of comfort, they make me think of summers with my father and you.

I reread your letters a lot, I don’t know if you read mine at all. We’ve sent each other over 50 letters each over the years, did you know that? I read one every night to keep good dreams in my mind before I drift off. Do you do the same? I guess I might never know.

As I said before, this is my last letter, I have other things to focus on and I can’t think about you too much right now. I just can’t. I hope you understand. And I hope you’re okay.

I miss you. I could use your charm and humor right now. But you’re probably off doing important, yet adventurous things. The ones you always read about.

I wish for you to one day find what you’re searching for Nik.

Love, Y/n

God, he couldn’t keep the tears in no matter how much he tried. He truly did not deserve her.

But if there was one thing that this letter confirmed is that they’ll always need each other, that she loves him the same as he loves her.

And he was for sure not going to let her go again, as he got ready in boots and an all too familiar privateer coat.

thx for reading <3

#nikolai lantsov x reader #grishaverse #shadow and bone #one shot #flangst #fanfic #my writing #writing #request #reader insert #fem!reader

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woklaza · 4 months

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Mafia Soukoku Headcanon: They make New Year Resolutions together but never do them (usually).

Dazai: Hmmm... let's see... 1) die, 2) have crabs at my grave 3) commit shinju with a pretty lady- Chuuya: Who am I to you then? Dazai: I am not committing suicide with you. Chuuya: Why? Dazai, with a serious face: I don't want you to die. Chuuya, blushing: Well-uh... I- Dazai: You need to deliver crab to my grave every day- Chuuya: *punches Dazai in the face*

Bonus:

The wind blew gently, Chuuya's hair fluttering along with it. On the little hill was a graveyard. That suited his partner. Maybe as a ghost, he would annoy his neighbouring dead bodies, and that would pass the time for him. But in some way, Dazai's grave seemed to be separated from the other ones. The name on his stone was clean. Never lined with moss.

"At least you completed your resolutions for this year..." Chuuys nodded at the grave in front of him, pouring a rather expensive bottle of sake onto the soil over his partner's probably decaying body. Hopefully, that alcoholic wouldn't suffer too much from alcohol withdrawal.

Chuuya opened a can of tinned crab, the brand Dazai always ate without cooking. Chuuya placed the can in front of the gravestone without any sort of utensils. That mackerel can eat like a savage for all he cares.

"Well...uh... dig in!" A pair of lips touched the headstone and parted. Red hair danced in the wind. "Bye."

The trashcan near the graveyard was full of empty cans, Chuuya batted an eye at them and smiled.

Chuuya managed to stick to his resolutions too: to feed Dazai crab at his grave.

#i am so sorry for this #< not really #hahahahahaha #angst #flangst #fluff #bsd incorrect quotes #soukoku #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #bsd angst #I snuck some angst in

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mcntsee · 9 months

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Letters to her

prologue

summary: kaz’s letter to y/n throughout the years.

warnings: Kaz’s past is kinda mentioned, mentions of death, cursing

note: I tried to express kaz’s feelings and growth with every start and finish of all the letters, hopefully you guys understand it too. I added a little something at the end, hope you enjoy! <3333

first letter:

Deer y/n

My da said you can came come play wheneber you want to come play with my me again can you please come play with me soon pleas?

I miss you and Jordie miss and da and the little kitteny miss you we all misses you very much

Love Kaz!

(I drawed a pist picture of you and me and spots playing)

2nd letter

Dear Y/N,

I hope you're doing okay. I wanted to say a big thank you for being there when we said bye to my da. It made me feel better knowing you were there, even though it was kinda sad.

Guess what? Jordie said we're gonna move to Ketterdam. He says it's cause he wants me to go to a good school there. I'm not sure about leaving this house, but Jordie says it'll be good for us.

The cool part is that you live in Ketterdam! That means we can hang out more and play together. Remember when we used to build forts in the living room and pretend we were pirates? Maybe we can do that in Ketterdam too.

I'll miss this house a bit because it's where we played hide and seek and had ice cream parties, but I think Ketterdam will be fun too. And I'm really happy cause we'll get to see each other more often!

I will see you soon, okay?

Love, Kaz!

3rd letter

Dear y/n,

I'm really, really sorry I haven't come to see you yet. It's not 'cause I don't want to, I promise. You're still my bestest friend ever. It's just that things got a little crazy since we arrived.

Jordie met this guy named Jacob Hertzoon. And guess what? Jacob offered us a whole bunch of money for our house! Jordie said it's a really good thing 'cause we can use the money for important stuff. But it also means we're super busy.

I didn't want you to think I forgot about you or anything. I miss you a lot and I still want to see you and play together. Maybe once we're all settled in our new place and get the money, we can have a big adventure like we used to.

Thanks for being the best friend ever. I promise we'll hang out soon, okay?

Love, Kaz!

4th letter

Y/N,

Are you okay? Please write back! Jordie is gone. I need to know you're alive.

Kaz.

5th letter

Y/N,

I heard you went on quite the journey to Shu Han just to retrieve my cane. I assume the trip was bearable. Your efforts are appreciated.

It's curious how life unfolds, isn't it? One day we're children playing in the streets, the next we're scattered across the world for various reasons. Yet, here we are, still connected by some thread of familiarity.

I imagine you'll return from your expedition when the time is right. Until then, business with the dregs continues as usual. The city keeps turning, and so do its dealings. As for me, well, I have my own matters to attend to as soon as I’m able to walk again.

- K.B.

First note

Get well soon! Let me know if you need anything else.

- Love, Y/n!

6th letter

Y/N,

Your letter reached me, and I must admit, it contained more substance than I anticipated. Word travels fast in the Barrel, and it seems that Haskell has taken quite an interest in your recent endeavors. His words carry weight, though they seldom come without a price.

If his assessment holds true, and you manage to prove your worth in the upcoming job, it could indeed elevate you within the ranks. Haskell’s recognition of your potential is both promising and concerning. The higher one climbs, the more treacherous the fall can be.

In the midst of this, know that I await your return.

May you navigate these challenges with the same tenacity that has carried you thus far. I wish you the best of luck, Y/N. Tread carefully.

- K.B

7th letter

Y/N,

You certainly have a talent for uncovering promising recruits. Jesper Fahey. The word on the street is that he’s got a steady aim that’s worth noticing. The skills he possesses could indeed be valuable, particularly in the line of work we find ourselves engaged in.

However, I must tread cautiously when it comes to individuals entangled in debts and vices. Jesper Fahey, from what I’ve heard, is no stranger to gambling. His tendency to wager recklessly has garnered quite a reputation, one that isn’t entirely favorable. The loyalty of a man buried under the weight of debts is a precarious matter. Whether his skills can outweigh the burden of his choices remains to be seen.

Your perspective on recruits is valued, and I’ll certainly keep a watchful eye on Fahey. I trust your judgment, and I’m willing to entertain the possibility. In the midst of all this, remember that your return is anticipated and your presence missed.

Return safely,

K.B.

8th letter

Y/N,

Do you remember Jesper? It’s almost comical how, after discussing him in my last letter, fate seemed to conspire to validate our conversation. Not long after I sent those words to you, I found myself intervening to prevent Jesper from getting himself thoroughly thrashed due to his gambling debts.

I hope I’ve made the right call by extending a hand to Jesper. It’s a calculated risk, one that I’m hoping will pan out in our favor. There’s potential there, no doubt, but potential doesn’t always translate into reliability.

This letter is short, I know, but I will tell you more about it when you come back.

Stay safe,

K.B

9th letter

Y/n,

It’s been days since your last communication, and the weight of uncertainty presses heavily on me. The quiet absence of your presence has stirred an unease I’m not accustomed to.

I’ve seen you handle insane odds, and I know you’re more than capable. But here I am. My mind keeps wandering to places I’d rather it not go, imagining scenarios that could have unfolded, and none of them are sitting well with me.

I hope that this silence is a result of strategic detachment, that you’re immersed in the intricacies of the job and haven’t had a moment to spare for correspondence.

I’m not accustomed to this vulnerability, nor do I care for it. Yet, here I am, plagued by the absence of information. I ask you, if you’re able, to dispel this uncertainty. A simple message, a token of reassurance – anything to quell this rising tide of apprehension.

I await word from you with an intensity I hadn’t thought possible. May it come soon.

Expectantly,

K.B

10th letter

Y/N,

I received the coat you sent, and I must admit, it's a rare occasion when I'm at a loss for words. It's unlike anything I would've chosen for myself, yet somehow, it feels surprisingly fitting. I can't deny its utility either – I appreciate it.

Jesper and Nina have managed to cultivate a special talent for driving me to the brink of exasperation. Their camaraderie is both amusing and bewildering, a chaotic symphony that I'm still attempting to decipher.

Today was no different. Jesper's antics at the club bordered on audacious, and Nina's unbridled laughter was enough to turn heads in our direction. As I tried to navigate the sea of chaos they create, I found myself, unusually, yearning for a return to some semblance of normalcy.

I must confess, the prospect of your return holds an allure I hadn't anticipated. There's a steadiness in your presence, an understanding that's often a rare commodity in these tumultuous times. The chaos, the hustle – they feel more manageable when you're around.

Till then, I'll persevere in the sea of antics that Jesper and Nina stir up, counting down the days until your return.

Until then,

Kaz

11th letter

Y/N,

Your mention of the jurda parem caught my attention, no doubt about it. It’s a name that carries weight, and I’ve got a feeling we’re treading on some dangerous ground here. It’s the kind of thing that’s best left untouched until we’ve got a better handle on what it entails.

Listen, I won’t preach, but I’ve got to say it – be careful and keep an eye out for trouble. The city’s not known for being kind to those who don’t tread carefully, and I’d hate to see you caught in something you didn’t see coming.

I’ve got a job for you. One that’s right up your alley. It’s always better discussing these things face to face, so when you can, make your way back. The sooner, the better.

Until then,

Kaz

12th letter

Y/N,

I’ve never been one for words, as you well know. My tongue seems to have a mind of its own, often saying the wrong things at the wrong time. And when it comes to matters like these, I’ve found that my eloquence takes a swift exit.

So, here I am, writing this letter in hopes that the words come out right, that they somehow capture what I’m feeling. I’ve spent years navigating the intricacies of this city, and yet the complexities of my own emotions have managed to elude me.

I’ve always valued our connection, from those early days of childhood mischief to the present. You’ve been a constant in my life, someone whose presence brings a sense of order to the chaos that surrounds us. And somewhere along the way, that bond transformed into something deeper, something I’ve been grappling with.

I find myself wanting to say more, to articulate the thoughts that remain half-formed in my mind. But it’s difficult, Y/N, and this letter might be the best I can manage.

What I’m trying to say is that you’ve become more than a friend, more than a partner in crime. There’s a depth to my feelings that I’m only beginning to understand. And if I’m being truly honest, I’d like to explore where this path might lead.

I understand if you need time, if my sudden candor is a lot to process. But I wanted to put these thoughts down, to let you know where my heart is at. And if you’re open to it, if you’ve felt even a fraction of what I’ve been feeling, then maybe we can navigate this new terrain together.

Kaz.

Second note

I’d like to explore where this path might lead too.

Love, y/n!

13th letter

Y/N,

I can't thank you enough for stepping in when I couldn't. I hope the contractor in Lij wasn’t hard to handle.

Now, I have a proposal of a different kind. How about we put our skills to use in a more relaxed setting? I'd like to take you out to dinner. No heists, no secret dealings, just you and me, navigating the menu instead of the back alleys.

I've made reservations for us at a place that's a bit more reputable than the Barrel's taverns. Consider it a step toward normalcy, a chance to enjoy an evening without looking over our shoulders.

Looking forward to your return,

Kaz

14th letter

Dear Y/N,

Your letter reached me, and I've got to say, the way you put it into words – how much you miss me – it hits home. The distance is a constant reminder of the warmth I've grown accustomed to, and I find myself missing you more than I thought possible.

This job is driving me insane, and my thoughts often wander back to Ketterdam, back to you. It's like a pull, a magnetic force that tugs me back to the life we've been building together.

I bought something with me – a box of those chocolates you can't seem to get enough of. The catch? I'm hoping they survive the journey and don't turn into a gooey mess.

I want you to know that with every sunrise and sunset that passes, I'm getting more restless to return to the city that's been our canvas, our backdrop. Until then, my thoughts are with you, and I'm eagerly counting down the days until I can wrap my arms around you again.

With all my longing,

Kaz

3rd note

I apologize, it seems the chocolates didn’t fare too well. I hope they’re still somewhat salvageable and that they manage to satisfy your sweet tooth.

- Kaz

15th letter

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you on the mend, wrapped in warmth and taking good care of yourself. It pains me to know you're unwell while I'm away, unable to offer even the smallest comfort.

My love, get well soon. I miss your laughter, your presence – they're a part of my life I can't bear to be without for long. The distance feels heavier when I know you're not well.

Today, during the heist, I saw a small brown cat with delicate white spots. The sight of it was like a reminder of simpler times, of moments when things were less complex. It stirred memories of my old cat "Spots," whose antics used to provide a reprieve from the realities of the Barrel.

As I look around, I find myself yearning for the day when I'll return to Ketterdam. Until then, my thoughts are with you, my love. Rest well, recover soon, and know that I will be there soon.

With all my affection,

Kaz

16th letter

Dearest Y/N,

There are times in life when words are inadequate, when even the most eloquent phrases fall short of capturing the depth of one's emotions. Today is one such day, and I find myself grappling with a sentiment that defies my usual precision.

I love you, Y/N. There, I've said it, though the words seem almost insufficient to convey the weight of my feelings. You've woven your presence into the very fabric of my being, and I find that I'm navigating uncharted territory, stumbling upon emotions that have long remained dormant.

In a world marked by uncertainties, you've become my constant, the one I turn to when the winds of the Barrel grow fierce. I cherish our bond, our shared history, and the future we're forging together.

As the days pass, my conviction only grows stronger. You've touched a part of me I thought was unreachable, and I find myself grateful for the warmth you've brought into my life.

Love,

Kaz

4th note

I love you too, more than words can express.

- Love, y/n!

17th letter

My Love,

I've stumbled upon something while on my trip to Lij, a revelation that caught me by surprise. My old house is up for sale. I confess, it's a notion that's been hovering in the back of my mind, a possibility I've been toying with.

And then, as if fate had a hand to play, it occurred to me – what if we made it our own? Y/N, would you consider it? The thought of creating new memories in a space that's intertwined with my past is something that holds a certain allure. A place where we could carve out our own sanctuary, away from the schemes and chaos that surround us.

If this notion speaks to you, let me know. It's a step I'd only take with you, a shared decision that would mark a new chapter in our journey together.

Love,

Kaz

18th letter

This is to certify that Y/N L/N and Kaz Brekker is (are) now registered as the absolute proprietor(s) of the land comprised in the above-mentioned title, subject to the entries in the register relating to the land and to such of the overriding interests set out in section 30 of the Registered Land Act as may for the time being subsist and affect the land.

Kaz Brekker __________

19th letter

My love Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits, even though I’m far away in Shu Han. I wanted to share something with you – I stumbled upon the perfect dining table. It’s a piece that seems to embody the essence of what we’ve built together, a symbol of the life we’re crafting, even from a distance.

As I stand here, thousands of miles away, my thoughts are never far from Ketterdam, from you. Every corner of the city is a reminder of our shared journey, of the future we’re molding. And with every passing day, I find myself longing to return, to be by your side again.

The plans we’ve made, the dreams we’ve spun – they’re a driving force, propelling me forward through the challenges that Shu Han presents. I promise you, Y/N, I’ll be back soon enough.

Until then, know that you’re in my thoughts, my heart, every moment of the day.

With all my affection,

Kaz

20th letter

Love,

I’ve come across some interesting information that might be of use to you. It seems that there’s a rumor circulating about a certain merchant in the Fifth Harbor. This merchant, it’s said, has been trying to make deals with both the Merchants Council and the Whitecrows, something that has my interest piqued.

I’ve also managed to uncover some details about a potential source of counterfeit currency that might be making its way into the hands of certain unsavory individuals. The source, surprisingly, seems to be tied to a printing press hidden away in the Barrel. It’s a curious development, one that could have far-reaching consequences.

And finally, I’ve received word that a shipment of goods has gone missing from a storage warehouse near the docks. This might not seem significant at first glance, but it’s the timing that intrigues me. A missing shipment, coupled with the merchant’s deals and the counterfeit currency – it’s all connected, I’m certain of it.

Stay vigilant, stay cautious. And know that even in the midst of our separate tasks, you’re in my thoughts.

I miss you, and I love you.

Love,

Kaz

21st letter

Y/N,

Listen to me, and listen carefully. You need to come back to Ketterdam, now. What you walked into, it was a trap – calculated, deliberate. I can’t explain it all in this letter, but trust me when I say your safety is in jeopardy.

I don’t care what you’re in the middle of, what plan you’re executing – drop it, and make your way back. I can’t lose you, not now, not like this. The threat is real, and the longer you stay where you are, the more danger you’re in.

I’m begging you, Y/N, hurry back. We can sort through the details, I’ll explain everything, but right now, all that matters is your safety. Don’t delay, don’t second-guess. Just come back.

Kaz

22nd letter

Love,

I’m pleading with you, begging you to reach out, to let me know you’re safe. This silence, it’s a torment I can’t bear. Every thought is tinged with worry, and I find myself grappling with scenarios that are far too grim.

I don’t care about the details, the reasons – they pale in comparison to my overwhelming need to know you’re okay. We’ve faced down darkness together, navigated treacherous waters, and I can’t accept the idea of you being lost in the midst of it all.

Please, Y/N, come back to Ketterdam. If you’re reading this, if you’re anywhere, find a way to let me know you’re alive. I’ll make sense of the rest later. Just, my love, come back to me.

Kaz

23rd letter

Y/N,

I can’t wait any longer. The silence is a weight on my chest, a suffocating reminder of the unknown. I’ve agonized, I’ve begged, and still, there’s no word from you. It’s time I take matters into my own hands.

Please, hold on. I’m coming. I hope you’re okay, I hope you’re just out of reach, waiting for me to catch up. It’s a risk I have to take.

I love you.

Stay strong, my love. I’m on my way.

24th letter

My Dearest Y/N,

It's been a week since you left us, a week of darkness and aching emptiness that nothing can fill. I know you won't get this letter, that these words will remain suspended in the void, but I find myself needing to put them down, needing to release the feelings that have taken hold of me.

The pain is suffocating, a weight that's settled into my bones. I still can't grasp the reality, can't accept that you're gone, that your light has been extinguished. It's a void that stretches beyond comprehension, a void I'm stumbling through.

The memories are a double-edged sword. They're a balm, a reminder of the moments we shared, of your laughter, your warmth. But they're also a blade, a reminder of what's been taken from us, of the future that was stolen away.

I want you to know, even though you'll never read these words – I love you. I always have, and I always will. You were more than a partner, more than a confidant. You were my anchor, my solace, my reason to keep pushing forward.

It's impossible to fathom life without you, Y/N. Your absence leaves a void that can never be filled. I can only hope that wherever you are, you're at peace, free from the pain that's gripped my heart.

Until we meet again, my love,

Kaz

25th letter

My dearest Y/N,

Six months have passed, and the ache of your absence has only deepened. The city, our city, is a different place without you. The crows, the ones you brought together, are slowly finding their separate paths, their separate destinies. It's as if the world itself is reshaping in your absence.

I found the little box where you kept all those letters. Your letters, my words – I'm surprised, in a way, that you kept them all. It's a piece of you that I'll treasure forever.

It's in these moments of solitude that I find myself yearning for your presence the most. Your laughter, your insights – they're still very much alive in my memories, and they continue to guide me through the labyrinthine twists of this world.

I miss you, Y/N. More than words can say. The void you left behind is as vast as the Barrel itself, and there's a hollowness that's impossible to fill. I can only hope that, wherever you are, you've found the peace that eluded you in life.

Until the next time we meet, my love,

Kaz

26th letter

My Dearest Y/N,

Time has continued its relentless march, and two years have slipped through my grasp since you left us. The city, once our canvas, has taken on a different hue, a different weight. The crows have scattered, their paths diverging, and the life we built together feels like a distant memory.

I wanted to share something with you – I've made a decision about the house, the one that once held the echoes of our shared history. It's a decision born out of the reality that without you, it's ceased to be a home. The walls, the rooms – they're empty without your presence, and it's a stark reminder of what's been lost.

Putting it up for sale again, it's not just about letting go of a physical space. It's about acknowledging that our time together, our shared moments, live on in memories, not in bricks and mortar. I carry you with me, always, but it's time to release the hold the house had on me.

Life continues to move forward, though it's a path I tread with a shadow that can never be dispelled. I hope, wherever you are, you've found the peace that eluded you in life. And I hope, wherever I am, you're watching over me, your presence a guiding light through the darkness.

With a heart full of love,

Kaz

27th letter

My dearest,

It's been almost three years, and some days it feels like it was just yesterday when I last saw you. I miss you, fuck, I miss you so much. It's like this gaping hole, this emptiness that can't be filled. No matter how many schemes I plan, no matter how many crows I put to work, it's like there's this void that's always there.

I was gonna do it, you know? I was gonna ask you. I got this ring, this small little thing that I bought just a month before you fucking died. It's funny, you know, I never thought I'd be the one to feel this way, to want something that much, to want to stake a claim in this shithole of a world.

But I guess that's what you did to me. You turned this cold, calculating schemer into someone who wanted more, who wanted you. I'm sorry I didn't ask you sooner, that I waited, that I let time slip through my fingers like sand. I'm sorry I couldn't be the one you deserved.

You were my light, Y/N. You shined a light into my darkest corners, and now that you're gone, it's like the shadows have returned with a vengeance. I need you, I need you so fucking much it's like a knife in my gut every damn day.

I don't know where you are, what's out there after this life, but I hope you're somewhere better. I hope you're at peace, and I hope you know that I'm here, waiting in this shithole, missing you every fucking day.

I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much it hurts. And I wish... I wish I could've showed it more when you were still here.

With all my shattered pieces,

Kaz

28th letter

Deer Y/N,

This will be the last letter I write to you, and as I put pen to paper, I’m filled with a mixture of emotions that words could never truly capture. The passage of time has been unkind, separating us by years that have felt both fleeting and eternal.

It’s strange, the way grief works. It’s a steady ache that never truly fades, an ache I’ve grown accustomed to carrying. There’s an emptiness in my heart that’s become a part of me, a void that can never be filled by anyone or anything else.

I’ve learned to navigate this world without you, though it’s been a journey fraught with challenges and moments of unbearable pain. There’s a longing, a yearning, that can never be quenched. You were my constant, the force that kept me grounded, and now that you’re gone, there’s a piece of me that will forever remain incomplete.

As time marches on, I find myself grappling with a heartbreaking reality – the sound of your voice is fading from my memory. The way you felt, the touch of your hand in mine, it’s becoming harder to recall. It’s as though the vibrant details of your presence are slipping through my fingers, leaving behind a hazy impression.

And oh, Y/N, the thought that your laughter will never again reach my ears, it’s a pain that reverberates through my very being. Your face, once etched in my mind with unparalleled clarity, is beginning to blur around the edges. The little details that I once treasured, the nuances that made you uniquely you, they’re slipping away, like grains of sand carried by the wind.

I love you, Y/N. Those words have become a mantra, a whispered refrain that echoes in the corners of my mind. I carry your memory with me, every step of the way, and I hold onto the hope that, wherever you are, you’ve found the peace that eluded you in life.

As I place this letter alongside the others, a part of me hopes that somehow, somewhere, you’ll receive these words, that you’ll know that you were loved, that you’re still loved, even in your absence.

I miss you, “we all misses you very much.”

Love, Kaz!

#fanfiction #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #six of crows x reader #angst #fluff #kaz brekker #i cry now #flangst

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