#sorry i cannot stop with the angst its just too good H

[dckweed]

@multifandom-world8 babes i am so sorry, this took me an embarrassing amount of time, but, here it is, and there will also be a second part as well !

my loves, it's been a hot minuet..but hi, hey, I'm here. Idk about yall but i had a kick ass weekend. Currently recovering from whiplash and fucking up my throat at a rock concert on Sunday (escape the fate, Hollywood undead, falling in reverse, and papa roach ((loml)) fr those wondering) that was so fucking amazing. How was yalls weekend? Everyone blow up the comments !

PLEASE NO ONE SPOIL THE TEENWOLF MOVIE! i have yet to watch it, and im sure there are others who haven't as well. Please be respectful in not spoiling anything on my posts.

I am aware that there is a paragraph that's darkened out and I have no idea how to fix it, for that, i apologize.

warnings: minors should not read this, but i know that i cannot stop you from opening this, so please, if you're under the age of 18, read at your own risk. this fic contains smut, maybe a bit of angst, biting, AGE GAPPED READER! reader was 19 when bitten, and in her 20s in the fic. Peter himself is a warning because guys look at him.

california dreamin'.., peter hale

Five years. Five long, fucking years of being stuck in this bullshit ass town, cleaning up supernatural mess after supernatural mess. You couldn't help but to wonder if the founders of Beacon Hills truly understood the irony of their towns name, it truly was a Beacon.

You suppose that was how you'd wound up in this mess anyway, the town being what it was and all, the werewolf population had gripped its claws into you and had never let you go. You had been a sophomore when it all happened, roped in by association with Stiles and Scott, and much like Stiles you had stayed human for most of it, until Derek's uncle had decided to use you as the main pawn for one of his stupid ass revenge fantasies. You hadn't taken it well at first, the bite completely destroyed you and it took a long time to build yourself up again, and by the time you had, you were much too late to do anything else with your life, and so, you had elected to stay behind and help keep the town out of trouble while the rest of your friends went on and lived their lives. 

Working at your family's business wasn't that horrible you supposed, you could make your own hours, and being the owners child, you got paid just slightly more than the others did, which was definitely on your pro list. As was your weekly meeting with the man who had turned you. Typically, Peter came in for lunch or maybe dinner (depending on which shift you were working) and while you worked, the pair of you would talk about any odd goings on, and catch up on what everyone was doing out in the world. It was also your allotted time to ogle the man. 

Maybe it was the loyalty you still felt to him after all this time from the bite, or maybe you were just really fucking lonely, but good god you couldn't deny that the man was the definition of sexy..

You had seen him today, during the lunch shift and though it had been brief, it had been long enough for your mind to wonder to dangerous places, wild thoughts running loose in your mind, the slight scar on your shoulder throbbing as they did, reminding you of the night he had given it to you..

It was cold, fall was beginning to set in to Beacon Hills once more as the seasons changed. You were 19 now, barely scraping by in highschool as it was, caught between the drama of your friend group and the drama of the supernatural beings that inhabited said group and tonight? Well, tonight you were quite literally the drama. 

Peter had lured you to his loft, you had thought that you would be meeting the entire pack there, and therefore hadn't thought to text any of them and after arriving, you quickly realized how wrong you were. Peter had answered the door, much too friendly than he had ever been towards you before with a smile on his usually scowling face. 

"I didn't think you'd actually show up." He says, opening the door just enough to let you slip in, your body brushing against his ever so slightly, shock of electric tingling down your spine as you did. You had always felt that way around him, but you just assumed it was a you thing and didn't notice the way that his hand tightened its grip on the door, or that his body went rigid, nor did you hear the sigh that escaped his lips. 

"What exactly is the emergency, Peter?" You ask, turning to face him when you realize the loft is empty. He had sent you an urgent text, the kind that usually went out to the entire pack, and you were in partial disbelief that you would have been the first to show up, or the first texted. You were human, which meant you were far down the chain of urgency list in emergency werewolf situations. 

"Sit." He says, eyebrow quirking and a slight thrill spreading through him as he watches you drop immediately onto the couch, almost mindlessly, eyes trained on him, wide and curious. He takes a seat on the chair across from the couch, launching into what was meant to be a proposal, a deal if you will..He was in one of his revenge fantasy phases, and was trying to willingly enlist your help, because for some reason (both Supernatural and logically), you weren't the person he was intent to have helping him. 

Peter knew why he felt the way he did when you brushed against him, it wasn't the first time and it certainly wasn't the last. He was a smart man, and it wasn't too hard to piece together for him. And in all honesty, at first he wanted to protect you from it, from him, and for a while it worked. But now? Now he wanted to be selfish. He needed to be selfish, even if it meant bringing you into the mix. 

"Absolutely fucking not." You say abruptly after a brief moment of silence once he had finished speaking, explaining to you what was going on in his mind. "No..just..no. ive seen what Scott and Liam go through, and yeah maybe it has cool perks but no just..why would you even think that I would go along with something like that Peter?" 

He could hear in your voice how desperately you disagreed with his idea, and a part of him wants to let you walk out that door and forget that this whole thing happened to begin with, but that selfish side wins. He stands as you move towards the door, and in two long, powerful strides, he pulls you back against his chest, arms around your torso pinning your own to your sides. 

"Peter! Peter let me go!" You yell, struggling despite the electric shock coursing through you once more. His grip only tightens on you, and you feel his breath on your ear as he brings his mouth down, can feel him breathing in your scent. 

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but this isn't optional.." He whispers, feeling you start to struggle more. He growls a little, his werewolf side coming out. His hold on you strengthens enough to be able to hold you still as he licks the area of exposed shoulder that your sweater had slid off of, his teeth grazing the skin ever so slightly. He debated letting you go, he didn't like the way that you were crying at all, you were going to hate him for this. 

He had already gone too far to turn back though. Before he can talk himself out of it, he bites down on your shoulder, trying to be as gentle as possible so as not to hurt you too much, but also trying to make sure it would take. He can't help but to savor you for a moment, the animal in him going absolutely feral over scent alone, he could do this for hours, he thought and happily he almost does until he realizes that your crying has stopped and you are now slumped against him. 

It had been the longest couple of years after that. You had just barely been able to graduate with your friends, nearly having to take a sixth year of highschool, though if that had happened you probably would have just dropped out. You had already taken freshman year twice, you couldn't go through senior year again. 

You had been so mad at Peter for the longest time, though you were still doing everything he asked of you. Scott and Derek had said it was the alpha bond, but personally, you felt like it was different than that because if was like your entire judgement was clouded over when it came to him, and honestly it still was though you had learned to look through it and use your own logic. 

Even before the bite you had been strangely attracted to Peter, though it definitely intensified after and you were certainly no stranger to fantasizing about him, so, as your shoulder throbbed ever so slightly, you let yourself fall into one of those fantasies, you were the only one in the front of the diner anyway, the late shift never being busy save for the occasional drunkard, you needed some form of entertainment. 

The fantasy was much like your others, though more intense than they normally were..peter was leading you up to his loft, your hand in his as he practically dragged you up the stairs, a girly little giggle escaping you as you run after him, your heels sounding on the ground and the skirt of your dress swishing around your bottom. 

Peter had gone full on foreplay in the car on your way back from your dinner date, his hands in between your legs, his nails ripping the fabric of your panties to shreds before pumping his fingers in and out of your dripping, aching core, clenching around his fingers as if begging for something more. 

The sound he had made when he felt you was almost feral, it ripped right through to your core and you could've cum from that alone, but alas, Peter had other plans for you. The door to his loft is barely even closed before he has you pressed up against it, his large, firm hands pressed tightly on your thighs as he hoists you up, letting you wrap your legs around his waist, your mouths moving against each other's with an urgency that you'd grown accustomed to when it came to him, as if the two of you could never get enough of each other. 

"Jesus.." You groan, the feel of his hard cock pressed against your bare mound sending shockwaves through your aching body, lust taking over your entire train of thought. 

"You and I both know I'm the farthest thing from holy, sweetheart.." He whispers, voice breathless as he makes his way down your throat, the stubble of his five o'clock shadow tickling your skin in the most delicious of ways, edging you halfway to insanity. 

After a few moments longer he removes you from the door, carrying you to his bed. His hands are on your bare ass under the skirt of your dress, squeezing the flesh appreciatively before giving a nice slap, throwing you off of his body and onto his mattress. You bounce, staring up at him through lust filled eyes as you watch him take his V-Neck off of his torso, tossing it to the ground before he gets to work on his jeans. You kick your heels off, they clunk to the floor before you shimmy out of your dress, the fabric falling off your body as you lift yourself off of the mattress the slightest bit. 

You realize as he gives you long, gazing look over your body that you are embarrassingly desperate for this man to even breathe in your direction, let alone fuck you, and yet here you are, on his bed, laid out all nice and pretty as you watch him fist his thick, deliciously long cock in his hands a couple of times, groaning at the thought of it inside of you. 

"You coming?" You ask, teasingly as you spread your legs for him, biting your lip. His shoulders slump as if in defeat and he let's out one of the prettiest sighs you think you've ever heard in your life. 

"Sweetheart, i hope not for a long while." He says finally and you giggle, before screeching in surprise when he grips your ankle and pulls you down to the edge of the bed, wrapping your legs around his hips as he teases your aching cunt with his cock, dragging up and down your sopping slit, once..twice..three times before he pushes himself into your tight, warm hole.

The noise that escapes your mouth is one of pure filth and it seems to be all the urging on he needs as he pumps his hips in and out of you. You watch as his face contort with each thrust deeper and deeper into you, your pussy clenching onto him with need he'd never felt before, your hips rising up off of his bed as if to beckon him in to you farther. 

You were already so over stimulated just from being horny that you knew you didn't stand a chance of lasting nearly as long as you could have, and you had a feeling he knew it to because the more sounds you made for him, the more one of your hands tugged at your own breasts and the other pawed at his forearm where his hand gripped your hips so meanly, the harder he fucked into you. 

It was almost painful, and you knew that if you hadn't been a werewolf it probably would have been. You wouldn't complain though because something about him being the one to bring on that kind of way in the sinfully delicious way that he was doing it, was absolutely glorious to you and dear God you basked in the absolute pleasure it brought you. 

Peter grunts as your pussy grips him, the sound of your skin slapping together and the squelching of your wet cunt sucking him back into your pussy every time he pulled out was filling the room, a beautiful music to his ears, as was the high pitched groan that escaped your throat as he gripped your hips harder, angling them up off the bed. He could feel himself hitting you at a deeper angle and just the look on your face as he did was what was going to make him finish, the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head, your mouth hung open in a silent moan, your tits bouncing every time he fucked into you..you were the perfect sight..

"So fucking perfect for me, y/n..y/n..

"Y/N!" Peter brings you out of your day dream, snapping his fingers in front of your face. You squeak in fright, heart racing and face flushing as you realize the man you had been fantasizing about was standing before you. 

"Jesus fucking Christ Peter!" You yell, calming yourself down. You glance at the clock behind him, noting the time. "It's almost midnight what the hell are you doing here?" 

The man looks at you as if you were insane, which, honestly, you had to wonder yourself if you were..nothing else could explain the way that you felt about the man that barely looked at you some days. "I told you at lunch I was going to pick you up tonight, remember? You said your car was broke down.." Truthfully, you hadn't thought he was serious. Peter hardly ever did anything with you outside of your meetings and occasionally running into him at the store..

"Oh.." Shit. How the fuck were you supposed to survive an entire car ride with him when you knew he could smell the horny radiating off of you? You were about to tell him that you were fine to walk when you realized it was raining pretty hard out, because of course California would decde to ends its drought right now. Fuck me up a goddamn river. 

"Give me a minuet.." 

#teenwolf fandom #teenwolf smut #teenwolf #peter hale smut #peter hale #peter hale fic #smut #teenwolf fic

[dlea203]

5 years - Hannix AU

A/N: Alright, we’re at chapter ten, everybody 🥳! And with that, we’ve reached the temporary end of this story (emphasis on temporary!). Wow, what a journey it’s been, for both the characters in this story, and for me… this last year has been wonderful/magical/extraordinary/*name any positive English adjective that exists* and difficult/challenging all at once. From physical discomfort to many feelings, to emotional turmoils, to ups and downs… Luckily, I’ve been blessed to meet some of the nicest/kindest/purest souls that grace this earth with their presence. And I’m so immensely proud that I get to call these people my friends 🥹. They’ve brightened up my life and continue to do so every single day. You guys know who you are, and I cannot thank you enough for what you’ve done for me so far and what you keep doing!

But every good thing comes to an end eventually, and it’s not different with this story. 5 years has proven to be a very educational project with all its ups and downs. I’ve had days/weeks/even months where the writer’s block has hit me harder than I wanted. I’ve looked at these pages several times and wondered: How the fuck am I ever gonna bring this to an end?!             Well, I managed, and that is due to my wonderful readers who’ve encouraged me to go on. To try again and again and again. Your comments, reblogs and likes have made me continue and somehow believe in myself and that I can finish this, so that we all get a little closure (and the characters too, obviously 😉). 

As you’ve probably noticed, this chapter will be posted in two posts (first the flashback scene and then the “present time”). Why? Because otherwise the post would be too long😅.

ANYWAY, I should stop rambling so much. This chapter has its usual warnings like lots of fluff and angst, but it also comes with a HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING about graphic depiction of violence and injuries, attempted sexual assault (not too graphic), brutality, captivation and imprisoning of a main character, etc. (I can’t name them all off the top of my head, so I’m sorry if I missed something)! So please, all minors and everyone who gets triggered by any of these themes, please DO NOT READ the flashback scene (aka the first post!) and the first part of the present time! You can start the story where the POV changes into the second scene of present time (It’s marked with a reader-safe section separator). 

I’m not taking any responsibility for psychological damage that can be caused by reading the flashback scene/first part of the present time if you’re not 18+ or if you get triggered by the themes mentioned.

I’m also not intending to offend anyone by the way I portray the “enemy” in this story. Everything regarding the topic Afghanistan/its inhabitants/its government up to now, in this chapter and in the future (if there is one for this story) are to be filed under the creative-liberty-section! I’m not intending to make any political statements or to judge in a moral sense. I’m sorry nonetheless if someone feels offended. I can assure you it wasn’t my intention.

Now, enjoy (although it’s probably a bit outrageous to phrase it like that 😅😬) the (temporary) last chapter of 5 years and THANK YOU to everyone who’s been on this ride with me! It was a blast, and I hope to continue writing for Hannix in the future. 

Take care everyone and lots of love, your Daria 🥰

Taglist: @callsignstingray @sweetwhispersofchaos

Previous chapter

Chapter Ten - part one

August 19th, one year ago…

Jake hadn’t known that brutality like this existed on this planet. He’d never seen people with this few humanity in them like the men he was sitting across from right now as the truck sped through the desert. They laughed devilishly, enjoying their victory, and counting the loot they had snatched today. They were neither mourning the men they’d lost nor regretting their actions just a little bit. Jake was disgusted, and that is the understatement of the century. He kept his head down, fighting the tears that were trying to make their way out of his eyes to deal with what he’d seen today.

He'd never get these images out of his mind. Jake wished that he was part of a horror show, that someone would call “Cut!” any moment and he’d get to see the cameras to be reminded that this wasn’t real. Except that it was. This wasn’t a film. It was reality. And it was irreversible…

*-*

The day started normal. The men and boys went to the fields, the women stayed in the village, doing laundry and looking after the kids who weren’t in school. It was a day like any other in the Afghan desert. Except that Jake stayed in the village too, today. He made a few repairs to the houses of the village, especially on the roofs. A quite nasty earthquake had shaken the villagers out of their sleep last night and made some damages to the houses. Jake and the women tried their best to fix the damages, so that no one would get hurt.

But about two hours after the day had started, nothing was normal anymore. As if the earthquake was supposed to be a bad sign, the village got raided that day, but not by the protection money collectors. No, this was a different group of Taliban men. Much more brutal and heartless. 

They sped along the gravel road but stopped at the fields. Because the villagers had heard them too late, they weren’t able to get back to the village in time, so they looked up from their work, confused. The Taliban climbed out of their trucks, pointed their loaded guns at the men and started shooting them down. Bodies dropped left and right, the fields getting soaked with innocent blood. Among the victims: Jahan and Lianh.

In the village, the women and kids heard the gun shots coming from the fields. Everyone looked at one another, confused and with panic rising within them. 

“Are those gunshots?”, Zahra asked in Afghan, grabbing her mother’s hand. 

“Those are coming from the fields”, Jake stated dryly, already knowing that it was too late for the men and boys on the fields and fearing the worst for the village.

He’d recognize these sounds from miles away. Years of being in the military did that to you. He dropped the tools and ran out in front of the Sayyid house, yelling through the village that there were gunshots coming from the fields and that everyone should get into their house immediately. Amira’s face turned snow white, and everyone started screaming. The women hurried the kids into the houses, trying in vain to lock the doors. But it was all for nothing. Minutes after the gunshots stopped on the fields, various trucks came to a stop in the middle of the village, the Taliban men jumping out and shooting around, not caring who they caught with their bullets. They hollered things Jake didn’t understand and broke into the houses, shooting everyone inside.

Jake hid in the wall closet, as he always did, because muscle memory took over at this point. Amira wanted to run into one of the rooms at the back to protect Aarian, but she didn’t get there in time. Three men broke down the door, pointing their guns at her and Zahra, shouting that they wanted money and valuables. One man walked straight into the back rooms, collecting everything valuable he found. Then, they heard a scream and shot, before something heavy dropped to the floor. Aarian. The other two grabbed Zahra and pressed her face down onto the kitchen table, laughing devilishly and tried to push her skirts up, reaching underneath. She screamed, doing her best to defend herself, but she didn’t stand a chance. Amira wanted to help her, but the second man rammed her head onto the stove and pushed her onto the ground in the corner. Jake balled his fists. Zahra’s screams burned themselves into the depth of his mind. He rammed his shoulder into the door of the closet to open it and immediately threw his whole weight into the man who held Zahra’s arms and had pushed Amira into the corner of the kitchen. The man stumbled and hit his head on the stove as well, going down at least for the moment. Jake tore the other one off Zahra, closed his arms around his neck and tried to strangle him. Zahra pushed her skirts back down, a look of naked panic and shock on her face.

“Zahra, get out of here! Run!”, Jake screamed at her, while he fought with the offender.

Zahra stumbled backwards towards the door and wanted to run out, but the third man who’d killed Aarian darted after her, raised his gun and shot her straight in the head. Zahra dropped down on the threshold.

“No!”

Jake had never before screamed this loudly in his life. He closed his arms even tighter around the bastard’s throat and twisted them, snapping his neck. Then, he jumped onto Zahra’s and Aarian’s murderer. They fought for the gun, crashing into walls and the table in the process. Jake almost had him, but the third man stood up from the ground and then it was two on one. They overpowered him and almost beat him unconscious. When they pressed him down onto the ground, one of the two found Jake’s Dog tags.

“He’s American!”, the man shouted in Afghan, showing the Dog tags to his friend, “Let’s take him with us!”

They tied Jake’s hands up behind his back with a rope and pushed him towards the door. He stumbled over Zahra’s body as his captor nudged him forward. From the corner of his eye, Jake saw that the other one stayed behind and shot Amira in her head, before walking after his friend who pushed Jake towards the trucks. Jake’s heart clenched so tightly that he felt the pain in his ribs.

As they walked up to the vehicles, Jake saw the massacre they had perpetrated. The gravel road and village square were lined with bodies, grown-ups and children. Before he was loaded into one of the trucks, Jake spotted the bodies of Edris and Ava, a few feet away from the school building. Edris’ body lay over Ava’s. He’d wanted to protect his little sister. Jake’s heart dropped into his stomach, and he vomited into the sand next to the truck. His captor slapped him across the face and yelled something in Afghan, probably an insult, but Jake neither cared nor understood. He gave up fighting against his captors. Jake was pushed into the back of the truck, along with various bags full of money and valuables. From there, everything blurred together…

*-*

They’re dead.

It was the only thought Jake was capable of coming up with. He thought about it for hours on end, saw the scenes he’d witnessed in front of his mind’s eye. Zahra, dead on the threshold. She was on the verge of breaking free, but it was snatched from her in the cruelest way. Amira, a loving mother, died while trying to save her children. Edris and Ava, two kids with bright futures ahead, died while trying to protect each other. Aarian, five years old, had his life taken from him before it even started. Jahan and Lianh, hard workers with hearts of gold, murdered for no reason. He didn’t even want to get started on the rest of the villagers. From Babies to children, to women to old men and everything in between, murdered out of pure joy. They were innocent, hadn’t done anything forbidden, except protecting Jake. Their only sin was being good souls. To avoid breaking down in tears in front of the monsters that were his captors, Jake turned his head away to look out at the massive amount of sand they passed. The longer he did, the more tired he got. He didn’t know when exactly, but at one point, his eyes closed, and he dozed off.

He didn’t come back to himself until the truck finally came to a stop. They dragged him out and pushed him forward to an iron gate where two men stood with machine guns. Jake saw a big sign next to the gate: State Prison of Herat.

Zahra had not only taught him how to speak but also how to read Afghan, that’s why he was able to make out what the letters on the sign meant. Zahra… To make the memories vanish, Jake sighed audibly.

Great, now I’ll surely never see my family again, he thought bitterly while the two armed men took him from his captors.

They seemed to negotiate something, but Jake didn’t pay attention. He just let everything happen. They brought him into the main building, checking him over for weapons and throwing him prison clothes. Then he was handcuffed, and they walked him to a different area of the building, past some common rooms where the local prisoners eagerly made fun of him and shouted death threats at him. Jake didn’t care. He stared ahead, expressionless. His will to live had shrunk with every bullet that had been fired in the village. 

Eventually, they reached the part of the building where he would be imprisoned for the foreseeable future. After sweeping a glance through the corridor that was lined with cells, which were only separated by bars, he came to a stop in front of an empty cell.

“Get in there!”, one guard yelled and pushed him inside.

Jake fell to his knees and was made to stay like that until they had removed his cuffs. The guards exited the cell and slammed the door shut behind them. Jake dropped his head forward and checked his tunic for the picture of her. He was allowed to keep the tunic with him, although not to wear it. For a moment he’d been afraid they would take it from him when they checked him over. They hadn’t found the picture, luckily. Same for his wedding band, that he immediately added to the chain of his dog tags. He stuffed them back beneath the clothes he had on now and threw the tunic into a corner of his cell.

“Hey there, you okay?”

Jake’s head whipped around to his left where the voice had come from. A man about his age looked through the bars, a curious expression on his face. His English was accent free, which strangely made Jake feel a little more comfortable immediately.

“Yeah, sure. Best day of my life”, Jake deadpanned.

“I figured”, the man laughed, “I mean, who doesn’t want to get imprisoned in here? It’s pure luxury!”

Jake had to smile at that. The man seemed to not have lost his humor, which somehow brought even more comfort.

“I’m Ryan Hessington, by the way”, he introduced himself, trying to squeeze his hand through the bars before giving up and just offering a fist bump through them.

Jake walked over to him and bumped his fist.

“I’m Jake Seresin. Nice to meet you, Ryan.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Jake. Where are you from?”

“Originally from Texas, but I’ve been living in San Diego before I came here. You?”

“From Phoenix in Arizona, baby. Best freakin’ city on this planet!”, Ryan chuckled and pounded onto his heart twice.

Jake’s heart fluttered at Phoenix, but he pushed the thoughts of his wife aside for the moment.

“I dare to doubt that”, Jake countered, smiling sincerely for the first time since this morning.

“Agreed!”, a voice with a British accent sounded over from a few cells down.

“Oh, shut up, Stronski!”, Ryan yelled back, before he looked at Jake again.

“May I present? Marc Stronski from a small town near Everton, that he keeps claiming to be the best city in the world”, Ryan said and rolled his eyes.

“It’s true!”, Marc grinned, offering a salute to Jake.

“It’s not even a city! It’s a small town!”

“Doesn’t matter!”

“Yes, it does! Whatever, moving on.”

Jake chuckled. Ryan grinned and pointed at the cell across from Jake next.

“There we have Kilian Hartmann and next to him is Theo Becker, both from Germany.”

They waved at Jake.

“On the right of Theo, we have Stronski’s british ally, the name’s Daniel White. Next to me is my friend and only remaining pal of my squad, Jared Shaw. But that’s a story for the second date. And next to him, our only remaining French buddy named François Déforel.”

“Salut”, François greeted, as Jared moved out of the way so Jake could nod back at him.

“And that’s it, that’s gonna be your company from now on.”

“Hey! What about me?!”, a Spanish-accented voice spoke up from all the way down the corridor.

“Oh my god, forgive me”, Ryan exclaimed with faux-desperation, which almost made Jake burst into laughter, “I forgot about our Spanish-german double agent! Last but not least, Circo Alcarraz.”

“I will kick your ass as soon as I get a chance, Ryan!”, Circo yelled over, but there was no harm behind his words.

Jake managed to smile genuinely at the men he was imprisoned with. They seemed like pretty cool guys. Maybe that would make this situation a bit more endurable.

“Any questions so far?”, Ryan pulled him out of his thoughts.

“You said François is your only remaining French buddy. What does that mean?”

Ryan’s face got a solemn expression, his eyes turning a shade darker.

“Your cell was the one of Sébastien Maillard. He was taken for interrogation yesterday, but they didn’t bring him back. That means he didn’t get through it…”

“Didn’t get through it?”

Ryan looked at him, his smile a sad one.

“They’re not exactly following the human rights convention when they do their interrogations, to put it lightly.”

Jake nodded, definitely not needing further details. He’d witnessed enough brutality for the day (technically for a lifetime, but it would surely not be over anytime soon).

“God bless him”, Ryan muttered, before shaking his head as if to get rid of the thoughts that ran through his head at the moment.

“Beside the habits of our guards, any other questions?”

“Not for the moment, no. Thank you”, Jake thanked him earnestly.

“Well, you know where to find me if that changes. It’s not like we have much privacy… but I promise we’re not stepping on each other’s toes here. If someone wants to be left in peace, we respect that. Is that okay?”

“Sure, absolutely. Thank you.”

Ryan nodded, before lying down onto his shady mattress. Jake did the same, lying down and staring at the ceiling. His hand brushed over the chain with the dog tags and his wedding band.

Baby, I miss you, he thought, longing for her in his arms.

He wished she would suddenly appear here, for just a minute, so he could take her into his arms and trust, even if only for a moment, that everything would turn out fine.

*-*

The first few days at the prison passed by surprisingly quickly. Jake had to adjust to this new situation, which meant staying in his cell for half of the day and working within the prison for the rest of it. Ryan and the others were kind enough to assist and instruct him though, so that the guards didn’t have too many reasons to punish him. They did punish him anyway, because they liked to demonstrate their power and superiority, but they treated all the prisoners equally. Not making a difference between foreign soldiers and local criminals. The foreign soldiers were kept apart from the locals though because the risk of a bloody fight with fatality was too high. And they couldn’t take that risk, the infrastructure was too old to withstand a riot. 

After work, the soldiers were brought back to their cells immediately where lunch or dinner was served.

“They just don’t have any class here”, Ryan joked, “they’re not even letting us eat together!”

Jake laughed. He was glad that the men he was imprisoned with haven’t lost their true personalities due to being here. He remembered one of his instructors at the academy warning them about exactly that…

“If you ever get into the situation where you’re imprisoned by the enemy, you have to do two things… First, adjust to the situation as quickly as possible. Figure out how you can get as comfortable there as possible, whatever measures that includes. Everything is allowed, just do it. Second, lock your personality, and everything that is connected to it, deep within yourself and keep it there. You have to become a shell, hollow and worthless on the inside. Because the enemy will try to figure out how they can break you. And if they find something – no, I rephrase – if you give them something they can break you with, if you give them the weapon to break you with, they sure as hell are gonna use it! Is that understood?”

“Yes, Sir!”

Jake had never imagined that he would be in a situation described in that lesson but here he was. He would do exactly what they were asked to in that lesson. Lock his personality - everything that made him Jake - deep into his soul. He’d lock away his girls, where he came from, his friends and family, his passions and interests; everything that separated him from being a robot would disappear into the depth of his soul and would not reappear until he was free again. Or at least, until he was alone in his cell, and the guards weren’t anywhere near. Which proved to be helpful indeed but didn’t get easier the longer he had to keep it up. At least it disappeared into the back of his mind the more time passed but it didn’t get easier. He just kinda got used to it. It became a mandatory habit. Just like turning off his feelings and his mind completely when he was dragged to the interrogation room. Or torture cell, as his new friends told him.

“Whatever happens, whatever they promise you if you cooperate, do not believe them, okay?!”, Ryan had whisper-shouted at him when they’d heard the guards walk down the corridor towards Jake’s cell to get him for his first interrogation.

“Okay.”

“They’re liars! Same goes for the threats they utter! Don’t listen and don’t worry about them! They’re not gonna make them true, how could they? Your family and friends live far away in safety! Remember, Jake, okay?! Always remember that!”

Jake nodded, then he was dragged out of his cell by his arms, and punched in the back when he didn’t get onto his knees immediately. Ryan held onto the bars and looked him deep in the eyes.

“You got this, Jake. Just hold on. For them”, he insisted, watching the guards drag Jake away.

*-*

At first, Jake had thought that working in the burning sun was the worst part of being imprisoned here. He’d assumed that the interrogations wouldn’t be much fun, but he’d thought that the film-cliché of them being the worst wouldn’t be true. Oh boy, was he wrong about that… 

The interrogations were hell on earth. The physical as well as the mental part of them. The bastards insulted him as much as they beat him up with their leather belts and fists. His back was covered in red streaks within minutes into the interrogation. But it wasn’t really an interrogation, to be honest. It was rather a monologue by one of the three guards in the room while the other two switched the roles to beat and hit him bloody. The monologue consisted of insults, predictions on what they would do to him, (death) threats for his loved ones at home, and so on…

“You have family?”, he was asked.

Jake didn’t answer and received a punch to the ribs.

“We’ll find them. We will find them and murder them. They will suffer, oh yes… We will make a video and show it to you. How we slit their throats and hang them on a tree!”

The guards laughed, basking in their brutal fantasies. Jake just stared ahead, mind blank and ears as closed off as possible. But the images were created in his head, nonetheless. 

The worst ones always came at night, when he was supposed to rest and get new strength to get through the next day. He saw Natasha and Lynn, peacefully dining at the kitchen table, when the door is broken down and the guards enter the house. Natasha jumps up from the table, picking Lynn up into her arms, fleeing behind the kitchen island to grab a knife. She hides Lynn between her legs and the counter, shouting at the men to leave them alone. But the men just laugh at her. She tries to stab one of them, but they’re three and she’s alone with a child to protect. They knock the knife right out of her hands and grab for her and Lynn. She holds onto their daughter, screaming for help. Jake sees the naked panic in her eyes, the same he saw in Zahra’s face right after he’d stopped the bastard from raping her. They’re torn apart. Their cries are like a thousand knives that pierce straight into his soul. Jake is helpless, watching with utter desperation and shock how his wife and daughter are slaughtered right there in their home. In their safe place…

He jolted upright, shaking himself as if that would make those horrible images go away.

Don’t let them get into your head, he reminded himself.

Making sure that no guard was near, he fished the picture of her out of the slit in the wall above his mattress. Her peaceful and happy smile on said picture always grounded him.

“You’re okay”, he whispered to her, gently touching her belly with his index finger.

Oh, how he wished she would reply. Or send him a sign, just one small sign that she was, in fact, okay. That they were both okay. But he was left to trust. No guarantee until he’d be home again to see for himself. If that happened, in the first place. Which was not guaranteed either. And if the same happened to him as to Sébastien before, he’d never find out…

*-*

Days, weeks, eventually months passed. Filled with countless hours of hard work and brutal interrogations. In between, he got to know the stories of his comrades in the cells next to him.

Kilian narrated the story of how him and Theo ended up in the prison of Herat. They were part of a reconnaissance troop from the German military that got hijacked during a tour two years ago about 300 km west from Kabul. Because the Taliban barely had control over said region back then, they drove them all the way through the desert to Herat. Kilian and Theo were separated from the rest of their colleagues, who were partly transported further west to the Iranian border and partly died from their injuries during the journey from Kabul to Herat.

“My childhood friend, Jannis, was amongst the victims”, Kilian mentioned, his voice casual but at the same time laced with suppressed feelings.

Jake pressed his lips together into a tight smile, silently offering his condolences. He knew how much effort it took for Kilian to open up to him. These men were already so used to lock away their personalities that it was more difficult for them than for Jake to find back to themselves in quiet moments like this.

“We grew up together, in a small town between Friedrichshafen and Lindau. That’s in the very southern part of Germany. Almost on board of the Bodensee.”

Jake nodded, although he didn’t have a clue where Kilian’s hometown was supposed to be. He hadn’t been to Germany a lot before. Only twice in his career, and maybe once or twice as a little kid, when his parents were on a business trip and couldn’t leave Caroline and him at home. But on all those occasions he’d never been to the very southern part of Germany. The most southern city he’d been to, is Munich.

“Jannis convinced me to join the military on a professional level. I wasn’t sure if I want that, but he was so excited and fascinated by the Bundeswehr, that he talked non-stop about it in school. Right after we finished our Abitur, we signed up for the training camp and then I finally understood why he loved it so much. It took us a few years, but when we got called up for this tour in Afghanistan, we couldn’t wait to prove to our superiors why we deserved to be where we were… but yeah, now there are some days where I wish I had stayed in Germany and had pursued a normal job.”

Kilian sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

“At least I got to meet some of the most amazing people. The boys were a lot of fun to be around and made this sand-hell a lot more bearable!”

They shared a laugh, with Theo joining in.

“I hope I can go home one day and tell Jannis’ family what a hero he’s been. He fought against his injuries for days… he died about four days before we reached Herat. But I bet he’s better, there where he is now. God bless him”, Kilian murmured, staring into space.

Jake tapped against the bars of his cell twice, signaling his support. 

“Amen”, Theo muttered.

*-*

Jake never really talked about what had happened to him. He was grateful and felt honored that the others trusted him and shared their stories with him, but he didn’t feel like talking about that day in the village. The others weren’t offended, luckily. He simply shared some minor information about his time in the village, like that he’d stayed with a nice family and that he’d felt like he was really part of the village by the end. He told them about their hard work on the fields, that they’d shown him how they built their houses, that he’d taught the kids English. 

Those memories proved to be helpful during the long days in prison, and especially during the interrogations. Jake was able to shut his mind off and get lost in those memories to get through the agonizing hours.

At one point in time, Ryan reminded him that it was Christmas day. Jake acknowledged this with a nod of his head. A few days later, it was New Year’s Eve. They toasted to each other with their empty cups, everyone wishing for the same thing: going home soon.

That wish was heard, although with a delay of about six months. But it was heard and granted. A united army of American and Afghan forces was able to liberate Herat from the Taliban. They stormed the city at night, including the prison. When the guards heard them coming, they tried to escape through the backdoor, but not without trying to eliminate the inmates before. The imprisoned soldiers were fast asleep, when suddenly a group of guards ran through the corridor and shot into each cell as the dashed past them. Jake was hit by at least two bullets, screaming in pain and trying to press himself against the corner of his cell. He used his mattress as a shield and pressed down onto the wound in his lower left abdomen. But he lost too much blood. Within minutes, he started to fall out of consciousness, the mattress burying him. The last thing he heard was Ryan coughing and calling his name. Then, it was pitch black.

*-*

Jake woke up again in a hospital like room. He was hooked up to a monitor that beeped in a steady tune, indicating a stable heartbeat. On his left he saw an infusion pole with various bags hanging from it. His head pounded and he felt like he’d been run over by a truck. When he tried to sit up, a warm hand gently pushed down on his right shoulder, making him turn his head in that direction. Two sympathetic green-brown eyes met him.

“Maverick?”

Maverick smiled and nodded, gently patting his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, Hangman”, Maverick greeted.

A wave of comfort and relief surged through Jake’s body, and he sunk back into his pillow.

“Where am I? What happened? And what are you doing here?”

“Calm down, Hangman, take it easy”, Maverick ordered softly, “We’re in Germany, on base in Landstuhl. They brought you here a week ago from Afghanistan. You had surgery and were put into an induced coma until now, to give your body time to rest and heal.”

Jake just looked at him.

“And what are you doing here?”

“Captain Mercer called me as soon as you were rescued from that prison in Herat. He told me they would fly you out here to get that surgery done.”

“And then you just came here?”

“Of course.”

“But you’re not my family… Why would they let you see me?”

“Because I told them that I’d sit in front of your door and wait until they get tired of me and let me see you eventually. Luckily, they got sick of me pretty quickly”, Maverick joked, and Jake laughed, immediately wincing at the pain that shot through his body.

“Ah shit, laughing is a bad idea”, he huffed, holding his side.

“Easy, Hangman. Those were two pretty nasty gunshot wounds.”

“It’s good to see you too, Maverick.”

“I’m glad you’re well, according to the circumstances.”

“When can I go home?”

Maverick sighed.

“I’m not your doctor, so I don’t know. But I’ll call him in here, if you want…”

Jake nodded. Maverick got up and walked out of the room for a moment. A few minutes later, he got back inside, Jake’s doctor tagging along with him. They had a good chat; the doctor taking notes of his vitals and reporting how the surgery went. The topic of going home was a bit a tough one, but the doctor made clear that Jake wasn’t allowed to board a plane until the doctor himself allowed it. Which would not be until another week at least.

*-*

Luckily, Jake recovered fast, and that allowed him to board the plane in Frankfurt two and a half weeks after his surgery. When he sat in his seat at the window, staring at the taxiway of Frankfurt’s airport, he couldn’t quite believe that he would really get to go home now. He felt his hands shake a little bit and buried them in his sweater to hide them. In the pocket of his sweater, his fingers touched the picture of her, which made his heart race even more.

“I’m coming home, girls”, he whispered, and felt tears cloud his vision as that statement wasn’t just a wish or a dream anymore.

It was the truth. After five years full of agony and suffering, he was the luckiest man alive.

The flights were neither long nor short enough. When he changed to his connecting flight in Atlanta, he swept his gaze over the people at the airport. He didn’t quite feel at home yet, but these first few minutes on American ground felt even better than he’d expected. When he landed in San Diego and stepped through the sliding doors into the arrival hall, he breathed in deeply and felt his heart calm down a lot.

“Jake!”

A familiar voice reached his ears and he turned into its direction. Maverick waved at him. When Jake stepped up to him, he hugged him tight. Maverick gently patted his back, aware of his scars there. Jake smiled gratefully at him.

“Is she here too?”

“No, but I’ll get you straight home, if that’s alright”, Maverick answered.

Jake nodded, falling into step with his old instructor. They jumped in the car and Maverick let its engine roar to life. They drove in silence for five minutes, before Maverick spoke up, his deep voice almost making him sound like he was grumbling.

“I have to warn you… She doesn’t know. No one does, so don’t be surprised if they react strangely or push you away. I begged Cyclone not to call her, and that the office in Landstuhl shouldn’t call her either. It wouldn’t have been right, after so many years. I hope that’s okay for you… I figured she would rather believe it if she saw it with her own eyes than when someone on the phone told her that you’re still alive and–“

“Mav, it’s fine”, Jake interjected.

“Good. Just, go easy on her. And give her time and space if she needs it.”

“I will.”

Maverick watched him get out of the car hesitantly, kneading his fingers. 

“Hey Jake”, Maverick called after him, making Jake turn around and look at him, “good luck. And welcome home.”

“Thank you, Mav. For everything.”

Maverick winked at him, before he turned the car around and left Jake alone in the driveway. The latter clenched his trembling hands together, before taking the final steps up to the door that separated him from his whole world.

#5 years #hannix au #hannix #hangman x phoenix #top gun: maverick #fanfiction #writing

[rhyyyybread]

all the days that we've been trying to forget about how...

#samuel drake #rafe adler #samrafe #u4 #uncharted #fanart #rhyart #lyrics are from the song 'needs' - verzache #sorry i cannot stop with the angst its just too good H #also rafe w glasses fucks sm ty!!!

[mae-gi-writes]

Once Again (PT.4) | Iwaizumi Hajime (Haikyu!)

ONCE AGAIN | PART FOUR

Summary

Iwaizumi’s broken marriage results in his five-year-old son trying to match him up with his primary school teacher, whom he thinks will make a wonderful replacement for a mother.

Genre: fluff, angst, f! Reader x dad! Iwaizumi

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

----

"Miss Y/N, is daddy okay?" Hoisuke peers up at you from the backseat as you pull up to your apartment unit. You glance at him through the rearview mirror and smile, "don't worry, he's fine. He's just going to be slightly late."

Iwaizumi had called you earlier that day, sounding breathless and stressed out as he iterated how slow traffic was moving. On impulse, you'd proposed to bring Hoisuke over to your house to make things more comfortable and after a slight bout of hesitation, he'd agreed to pick his son up in the comfort of your home.

"This is the first time I come to your place, miss Y/N," Hoisuke's eyes are darting back and forth across the tiny kitchenette to your right to the small tv screen plugged to the wall on the left. Granted, your flat is merely anything special and far from ready for unexpected guests. But the sharp curiosity gleaming in your student's eyes holds no judgement and for that you apprrciate him all the more.

"You hungry?" You ask while settling him down at your tiny dinner table compact enough to fit snuggly up to your kitchen counter.

Hoisuke purses his lips in thought and you swear he's learnt this facial expression from observing his father, "hm yeah. A little bit," before throwing you a sheepish grin.

So you whip up something simple; omelette rice with your special Korean chilli sauce as a sudden downpour splatters through the cityscape, the rain dancing to its own rhythm as it splatters over your windowpane. The TV plays in the background, a random cartoon that gets interrupted with Hoisuke's giggles and that ignites an affectionate smile on your lips as you chide himto eat. And you're not really sure why your chest feels tight and filled to the brim with comfort, but you realise you don't actually mind having the small human around that much.

Teachers aren't supposed to have favourites. But you admit to yourself that teachers are only human. And if you are to choose, Hoisuke would be one of yours.

"Miss Y/N, do you have a boyfriend?" Hoisuke's voice pierces through your thoughts and as you blink down at him, you shake your head, "no, I'm single as a pringle."

"You are not married then."

"No I'm not."

"Great!" Hoisuke jumps up on his seat, eyes twinkling with mischief, "then do you want to marry daddy?"

"What?" You laugh out, "it doesn't work that way Hoisuke."

"But I like you miss Y/N," he replies with the seriousness of a child wanting his way, "You'd be a great mum. Can you be my mum?"

"Oh gosh kiddo," your hand reachea out to ruffle his hair, heart twisting at how easily he leans into your touch, "I'd love to be your mum, but--"

"Then marry my dad," Hoisuke's mumble is muffled against your side. He unconsciously snuggles up to you and you caress the top of his head down to his nape, "daddy likes you too. He really likes you. You make him happy. He laughs a lot when you're around, and he doesn't get sad like he usually does when Mama is here."

"But that would be unfair to your mum wouldn't it?" You say softly, "you can't have two mums. She'll be upset."

There's a slight pause where you can see the cogs turning in his brain, "yeah," he says eventually, "but I don't really like going to Mama's anyway--"

The sound of your doorbell jolts you both to attention. You give Hoisuke's head one more ruffle before getting up to unlock the door.

Only to come face to face with none other than Hoisuke's mother.

You blink. Once. Twice. Unconsciously taking a step back.

She's pretty. Prettier up close, with those feline cat eyes and that full mouth that renders any man crazy. Standing a few inches higher than you, there is no doubt as to why Iwaizumi had fallen for her charms in the first place. She looks like the kind of woman that would still be elegant even dressed in a mechanician's uniform.

"H-Hello," your eyes dart from hers to a blank spot on the wall opposite, "can I help?"

"Where's Hoisuke?" Her voice is smooth, yet hard enough to make you wince.

"I--" your mind races. Isn't Iwaizumi supposed to pick him up? And how the hell does she know where you live?

She seems to read your face as she says, "I saw you with my son leaving the school. You're his...teacher, aren't you? I was waiting to pick him up."

"I thought Iwaizumi-san--"

"I don't need a reason to see my son," she arches her brows at you in a way that makes you want to crawl under a carpet and hide.

"Mama?" Hoisuke's voice floats from behind you, a tentative waver of nervousness as you hear him pad up to the door.

"Does Iwaizumi-san know you're picking him up?" You hope your tone is diplomatic, but the way her body tenses proves you otherwise, "You can tell him Hoisuke's with his mother," she nods at her child, "now come on Hoisuke. Let's go home."

Maybe feeling the tension in the air, Hoisuke merely shrinks back, "but it's Daddy that picks me up."

"Yes well, Daddy's not here now is he?" She gestures aggressively towards him, "now come on."

"Maybe we should wait until Iwaizumi-san gets here," you try to smooth things over, "he's on his way--"

"Don't tell me what to do with my child," Mizune snaps and without warning, grabbing hold of Hoisuke's arm before pulling him out of the flat. He resists.

"Mama no, let's wait for Daddy--"

"Daddy isn't coming. Now stop being so difficult," she doesn't relent against the way her son twists and kicks at the ground while you stand there, mind blind with panic because you've never actually had to deal with such a situation before.

"Mama please!" Hoisuke cries out with a sob.

You want to move. You urge yourself to. But your feet won't budge. It's like you're rooted in place.

Hoisuke has started crying at this point and in an attempt to smoothen things out, you try again by saying, "I'm sure we can all calm down and talk this out. As a teacher, I cannot--"

"That's right," Mizune's feline pupils narrow down on you, making you flinch at the rage simmering through those dark orbs, "you're his teacher. And as a teacher, you should know how to keep your boundaries. You're not his mother and you never will be. So fucking stay out of my family's life."

The words burn as they etch themselves into memory and you can only watch, hand clutched to the door as Mizune drags her crying son away. His cries are loud enough that they bounce throughout the corridor and keeps resonating even when he's long gone, as you try to comb through the last fifteen minutes where everything has turned upside down.

Fucking stay out of my family's life.

Your brain reels. Your heart feels heavy. You don't know what to do, what to say.

And Mizune's words are as sharp as a knife.

Don't tell me what to do with my child.

A sob slowly catches the back of your throat, eyes slowly brimming with an onset of tears.

You're not his mother.

The truth hurts. You know that Hoisuke is not your child, know that all this time it's merely Iwaizumi and his son, and then you watching on the sidelines. But hearing the cold rejection thrust in your face hurts more than you'll admit.

You aren't quite sure how long you stand there gazing into the empty corridor as if if you will it hard enough, Hoisuke will come running back to you. It is only when a familiar alto reaches your ears that you snap back to attention:

"Y/N?"

Jerking at the sound and looking up to see none other than Iwaizumi, drenched and breathless, standing a few feet away from you, your breath hitches in warning.

He closes the distance between you, frowning upon noticing the tears at the corner or your eyes, "what's wrong? Where is Hoisuke--"

"I'm..." your eyes drop to the ground, "I'm sorry," your whimper is barely above a whisper and you feel him move closee, his hand gently grasping your arm.

"Y/N?" His voice is gentle, though ragged and breathy, "what happened?"

It's probably the gentlest he's ever been with you. Turning away to cup your mouth with your hand, your teeth clamp down onto your lower lip in hopes of keeping the emotion from spilling over.

"Mizune came," you murmur out, "she took Hoisuke home."

There's a sharp intake of breath on his part. A pause, "how did--"

"She followed us."

Iwaizumi lets out a sigh as he moves towards you and you stagger back to hide your tears, but it proves useless when his hand grasps your arm to pull your hand away.

Deep brown mocha meet yours. Your throat tightens.

"Sorry," you breathe out a forced chuckle but it's clear from Iwaizumi's face that he's spotted your tears, and that he just knows that there is something bothering you.

But he doesn't ask. Doesn't question your intent or your feelings.

Instead, he pulls you close, close enough you're stumbling into him, before his hand wounds around the back of your head and presses you against his shoulder.

It shocks you, the sudden intimacy of his touch. His citrus smell once again invades your space and you can't find it in yourself to keep on holding on before you break down.

Maybe it's because you had felt-- at this point in time -- that you were someone significant in Hoisuke and Iwaizumi's life that you're not crying into Iwaizumi's shoulder as if everything is going downhill in your life. But you're comforted by the casual way he holds you with his head turned away so that you can bury yourself in the crook of his collarbone.

"Sorry," you manage to mumble out after you've managed to calm down. He's moved you back into your flat and has sat you down onto your kitchen chair, having rummaged through your utensils to bring you a cup of water that you sip on gratefully, if only to act as a distraction from the way he's gazing at you.

Iwaizumi shakes his head silently, looks away and clears his throat, "I'm gonna call her. You good?"

You nod and after searching your face for a few more seconds, he slides out of his seat and walks away with the device already presses to his ear. Bowing your head and gulping down the rest of the water, you manage to block out his angry alto resonating through the compact space as you focus on regaining control of yourself. You rarely fall to pieces like that, rarely give in to the downward pull of your emotions because the nature of your job obliges you to.

"Y/N."

You jump involuntarily and look up to see the said man sporting a frown, "is Hoisuke okay?" You ask.

"He's fine," a sigh escapes his lips as he slides back into the chair as if there's a weight pressing down onto his shoulders, "I'll pick him up tomorrow after school."

You nod. Good, the last thing you need is for Hoisuke to be disrupted by problems that don't concern him.

When he speaks next though, his alto is hoarse and thick, "I'm sorry Y/N. You don't deserve to get in the middle of all this."

"It's okay."

His eyes pierce yours with burning hot intensity, causing your gaze to drop to your fists laying across the table, knuckles so tight they're turning white.

A bout of silence ensues, lest for the pounding in your heart while your thoughts take on a tumultous turn for the worse. What if Mizune is angry? What if she stops Hoisuke from coming to school altogether? What if she makes her child move just for the sake of keeping him away from his teacher who can't seem to keep her nose out of anyone's business? What if--

Warmth floods your hands so suddenly that it interrupts your train of thought. Head jerking up in surprise to see Iwaizumi's hands clasp yours, your blood suddenly pulses through your limbs upon feeling his thumb gently stroke over your knuckles.

Iwaizumi is not a man of words. That much you know, but this evening has been full of surprises for you both. So you force yourself to relax, almost enjoying the gentlest of his touches fluttering across your skin.

"How," your words are choked, "how angry is she?"

"That doesn't matter."

"But what if--"

"None of this is your fault, Y/N," he replies firmly, followed by a gentle squeeze, "whatever you have cooking in that head of yours, stop."

Nodding and sighing in defeat, you lapse into a more comfortable silence as the time dwindles on. It's different to have someone else occupying your flat, considering that you've gotten so used to living along after your horrible breakup. A good kind of different.

When you bid him goodbye that evening -- granted you shall wake up with dark circles and puffy eyes the next day -- he suprises you with another casual, one-armed hug which signifies so much more for the usually reserved man, Hoisuke's bag hanging loosely from the other. He holds you close, his grip strong and secure and making you wish you can melt in a puddle of warmth at his feet, while his cheek pillows atop your temple against the side of your head. You lean in, cozy and warm, while his heart beats underneath your ear like a gentle drum easing you of today's worries and you wish you have the willpower to keep yourself away, in vain.

He pulls away slightly, mutters a soft "night" before a ghost of a kiss imprints itself on your temple.

Your breath hitches but the moment is gone all too son. He's already swivelling around and making his way down the corridor, leaving you to stare after him with a wild, raging heart.

You know, without a doubt, that you're already a little too skin-deep.

----

Iwaizumi is furious. Filled to the brim with a rage that's threatening to bubble over his insides.

He'd gone round to fetch Hoisuke in the morning as promised, just managing to keep himself from knocking his ex-wife's double mahogany doors down only to be greeted by that stupid bastard who'd stolen his wife away.

Todoka had always roamed within the same circle of friends as Iwaizumi and Mixune, having met under the same dormitory roof and sharing common sports interests. So imagine how big of a slap it was to hear that he'd been the one stealing kisses and sharing soft subtle touches with his wife behind his back.

"I could've driven him if only you'd let me," Mizune had told him as they waited for Hoisuke to finish brushing his teeth. is ex-wife's familiar soprano made him tense. Her face was a cold mask of indifference that covered up her silent anger. She'd folded her arms, chin jutted out and lips pursed, "he's my son too, you know."

"Was he still your son when you went and fucked Todoka?"

She'd sighed. As if dealing with the tantrum of a child, "Why are you bringing this up again?"

"Because you never put him first. Not when he threw his tantrums, not when he cried for you. Not even when he was sick," Iwaizumi spat out, the words tasting bitter upon his tongue.

"I had issues Hajime, you know that--"

"Like what? Like we weren't good enough for you? Like I wasn't pulling myself apart while you were out for nights on end?" Iwaizumi would've continued with an onslaught of pent-up statements if his son hadn't spoken out:

"Daddy?"

"Hey bud," Iwaizumi's anger had deflated like a hot air balloon, "you ready to go?"

And so he packed his son up in the car, his ex-wife watching his every move, and just after he'd closed his vehicle door did Mizune mention something about you.

"Do you like her?"

He'd bristled, "none of your business."

"Hoisuke is my son," Mizune's eyes had hardened into steel, "I don't need anyone else filling up his head with stupid ideas, nor do I want him to get hurt--"

"Like you did?" The words were fire burning upon his tongue. His shoulders were squared as he faced her fully, "stop beating around the bush, Mizune. We both know you hate the fact that Hoisuke loves spending time with Y/N."

"That's not it, I--"

"Y/N has spent more time with Hoisuke in a week than you did in a month. She's wiped his tears more timesthat you've seen him cry," he swivels towards his car then, "are we done?"

"You're acting like a child."

"I'm not the one picking a fight because of some petty jealousy," Iwaizumi had snapped.

"I'm not jealous!" Mizune burst out, her patience finally wearing thin, "I'm trying to look out for him, for you! She's not right for you--"

"Don't. Talk about her like that,” Anger had flared at how dismissively she spoke of you, visible as his knuckles tightened and a vein throbbed in his forehead, "and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay the fuck out of my life."

He'd driven off without looking back, knowing full well he'd shocked her into silence and if he were to be honest with himself, that outburst had eased some of the knots in his stomach. Dealing with Hoisuke's anxiety after witnessing yet another argument though, that was something else.

"Daddy, I don't understand why you and Mama fight so much," Hoisuke finally finds his voice when they stop inside the school gtounds. His small chubby hand, fitting into Iwaizumi's large one, cling to him with more force than necessary as they make their way to his respective class.

"Your mama and I...have different opinions on things," Iwaizumi tries to explain, suddenly guilty that his son has to pick up all the broken pieces. Impulsively, he ruffles Hoisuke's locks, "don't worry."

And that's when his son stops in mid-walk, looks him dead in the eye, and tells him, "Mama doesn't like miss Y/N, does she?"

It's a different kind of slap, but he shouldn't have understimated the little five year old. Children know much more than they let on snd here's the proof of it.

Iwaizumi allows both his hands to clasp Hoisuke's shoulders and bends down until they are face to face, "hey," dark mocha meets lighter caramel tinged with a fear of a child desperate for a family that all his friends can take for granted, "that doesn't matter. Do you like miss Y/N?"

Hoisuke nods, eyes wet.

Iwaizumi's heart swells and he swears he doesn't ever want to see that expression on his son's face, not if he can help it.

"Then it doesn’t matter what your Mom tells you," he squeezes the child's shoulder for good measure, "no one can boss you around and tell you that you're not allowed to like who you like," he brushes a few hairs off Hoisuke's forehead, "not me, not even your mom. Got that?"

“Will we be able to invite miss Y/N again?” Hoisuke asks with a trembling bottom lip. 

“If you want to.” 

“Do you want to, daddy?” 

That question takes him by surprise, the familiar guilt lurching through his stomach as he tries to comb through an excuse to hide his growing feelings. 

Except, why does he have to hide in the first place? 

It takes a moment, before Iwaizumi nods, “yeah,” he murmurs gently with the softest of smiles, “I want to.” 

Hoisuke nods once more, which is shortly followed by lurching into Iwaizumi's arms as a sob echoes from his throat. His father holds him close, glad that the earlier tension from Hoisuke's has dissipated into relief for now.

What he doesn’t know though, is that you stand just a few feet away, body tucked into the corner of the wall and holding up your racing heart against your chest. 

------

The more you spend more time with the Iwaizumis, the more your heart gets invested in the coaxing warmth that makes up their family. You try to dismiss what you've overheard back in the school corridor but it's an itch you can't quite erase now that you've been exposed to Iwaizumi's feelings, which does nothing to stop the way your heart skips a beat whenever his gaze lingers upon yours for too long.

And you've taken notice. Or you think you do. Of how he sounds more gentle whenever he talks to you, how whenever you play hands they drift towards each other for a few extra seconds that causes your skin to tingle with warmth. How it is so goddamn easy to fall into this familiar routine of playing families with Hoisuke around like a human sunshine.

But there's still one thing nagging you. Which is why you corner him once you have tucked Hoisuke into bed on Saturday night, seeking him out on the small terrace tucked beside his kitchen that overlooks the glowing city lights.

"Can I ask you something?"

His gaze flits to yours. He nods.

Swallowing back the sudden knot of anxiety in your throat, your question comes out more like a soft proposition rather than a demand fot answers.

"I know it's none of my business, but-- I overheard you and Hoisuke a few days ago in the school corridor," your words are rushed and quick as you fold your arms over your chest, "did you and Mizune have a fight...about me?"

Iwaizumi shifts in your peripheral to face you, but your eyes adamantly find purchase onto the cement ledge splattered with dirt. For a split second, you wonder whether it wouldn't have been better to keep your mouth shut.

"What did you hear?" He asks quietly.

With a slow breath, you tell him what you've heard, underlining that this whole encounter was an accident.

"And from the way she acted when she saw me...well, it's not hard to put two and two together," you finish off in a mumble, then quickly adding, "look I--I don't want to come in-between you and your family. I just don't want Hoisuke to get hurt."

Surprise flits through his features. He regards you for a long moment, long enough that you feel like squirming underneath his gaze.

Then, taking you by surprise, he chuckles softly and shifts his elbows onto the edge of the terrace, "No wonder he likes you."

You blink at him. It suddenly feels a little too warm.

"None of this is your fault, Y/N," you wonder since when have the formalities dropped from Miss Y/N to just Y/N and decide that you like the way your name rolls off his tongue, "Mizune gets jealous over stupid shit and if she can't see someone else making her son happy then that's not our problem."

Your teeth unconsciously find purchase onto your lower lip, which he notices. That doesn't stop him from reaching over to press his thumb against your lower lip, "don't."

You freeze at the touch. His thumb is warm against your mouth, calloused and sending a series of tingles down your spine.

He must realize the intimacy of his touch, for he drops his hand away and mutters, "he's...livelier. when you're around. Happier, even. I've never seen him like that with his Mama."

"What about you?"

You feel like slapping yourself. The audacity coming out of your mouth surprises you and you swear your cheeks burst into flames.

Iwaizumi looks at you almost at the same time your pupils focus on his, causing your breath to hitch.

Why the hell can't you just keep your mouth shut?

Iwaizumi's voice is merely a murmur when he speaks next, deep and laced with a roughness.

"What about me?"

Your brain seems to turn to mush, "do you like having me around?" You hope you don't sound too pathetic.

Your heart almost stops at his next set of words.

"I do."

And there's that smile, barely there but enough that your own lips stretch to mirror his action. Until you realize you are smiling at him like a fool and quickly look away like you've just been burnt.

Something shifts in the air between you, spurred on by the way your eyes keep searching each other's with a growing tension that makes your skin rattle. Iwaizumi's frown is present, yet not unpleasant and you're not quite sure who moves, just that he's suddenly a little closer. Close enough you get a whiff of the citrus smell you've come to recognize as his own.

"Miss Y/N?"

Hoisuke's voice suddenly snaps you out of your daze. Quickly whipping around to see the said boy rubbing his eyes, a hand unconscioudly scratching his tummy, your entire countenance softens as he blinks up at you sleepily.

"I can't sleep," he mumbles out with sleep still in his eyes, "can you come back to bed with me?"

"Yeah sure," you're already on your way over to him, scooping the child up in your arms. He takes this chance to bury his face into the crook of your neck, sighing contently.

You turn back to his father, a dark silhouette against the bright landscape, "I'll be right back."

But Hoisuke surprises you by saying, "you too, Daddy."

Iwaizumi stills, "what?"

"Come to bed too, Daddy."

For one single moment, it's like time stops. You can't see Iwaizumi's face but a moment later he straightens and walks over, nodding at you when he's close enough. You don't realize your heart is besting like a hummingbird until you hear it throbbing through your chest as you try squeezing into Hoisuke's bed, you in the corner and his father barely hanging onto the edge, Hoisuke squished in-between.

It's like an instinct for the boy to latch onto your shirt. He turns to burrow himself into the curve you've made with your body, facing Iwaizumi who is half-sitting, half-lying down in an angle that surely isn't comfortable.

So you decide to point it out to him, patting the bed for good measure in hopes that he doesn't notice the warm flush of your neck.

"It's okay," your whisper tickles Hoisuke's hair, "it's only until he falls asleep."

He hesitates, before you see his head nod and he slides his body a little closer, chest curving into Hoisuke's back and close enough for you to get bathed in his warmth.

He smells good. He looks good. God. Why does he look so damn good?

Stop! You squeeze your eyes shut aa if that might help your racing thoughts, and you are so caught up in your own head that you almost miss the gentle brush of Iwaizumi's fingers against your shoulder.

You tense up right before realizing that his action is intentional. Your shoulders slowly relax, a shaky exhale escaping your lips as he takes the chance to linger over your arm a little longer, before falling away onto the mattress.

You fall asleep that night listening to not just Hoisuke's, but Iwaizumi's heartbeat. 

----

Taglist: @multi-fandom-fanfic, @168-cm-png, @bakugouswh0r3, @yatoatyourservice, @ayocee, @marvel-ing-at-it-all, @astrolcve, @lilith412426, @elianetsantana, @schleepyflocci, @oohlalie , @kaashikoi , @tendo-sxtori , @iwaroses , @its-the-aerieljeane , @lalalemon101 , @lanaxians-2 , @dora-the-grownup , @sharin-gone , @nekomavsnohebi , @crayonwriting , @imafan , @random-fandom-girl-24 , @bucinhajime , @izumikunmy , @iwaoioioi​ , @evesmores​ , @meri-soni-meri-tamanna​ , @paintedstarres​ , @okadaxo , @michaki , @archiepudding​ , @ysatrap​ , @cringe-freak​ , @thatprettybunny​ 

#iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi headcanons #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x y/n #aoba johsai #aoba johsai x reader #aoba johsai imagines #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi fanfiction #haikyu fanfiction #haikyu x reader #haikyu oneshot #haikyuu!! #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu oneshot #haikyu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa imagines #kageyama tobio #anime fanfiction

[in-the-name-of-styles]

Need You.

Author’s Note: Hello! After answering tons and tons of asks, and explaining how Tumblr had deleted the second part “Please Stay” to my one shot named “Only If” for god knows what reasons. I had to do this for you guys. I stopped writing years ago, and but kept my masterlist open for you to come and read my writings whenever you wish to. Trust me, this was so effing difficult for me to do! but I’m kind of proud that I removed the time and managed it. but let me inform you it’s not the same, because I do not remember what happened in the original one clearly. I hope this is a better and hopefully more well-written (amongst my other writings *cringe*) version of the old one.

It’s not proof read. I haven't edited it, so I’m sorry in advance for the typos. 

So, guys, gals and non-binary pals, I present to you (apology for it being light years late) the part two to your favourite little creation of mine “Only If”, with a new identity... please welcome “Need You”!

Do let me know how it makes you feel in the ask box or comment section. I love reading them. Happy Reading!

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: tons of angst with tons of fluff, sensitive harry???? (or do you guys call it sub!harry nowadays??) anyways it’s a cute!harry :P !

.

It’s been four hours, and you still weren’t back. Though it wasn’t new for you to go for a drive after an argument with him, you often came back within an hour or two. The blizzard outside was making Harry quite anxious. Even though the fight was extreme, he wanted you back safe and sound. He now realised how harsh he was on you. You didn’t intentionally leak the song. It was a mistake and it could happen to anyone, himself included. He felt guilty over the way he yelled at you; it wasn’t like him to react like that.

Suddenly, Harry felt the need to do something special for you. Though he planned on apologising to you verbally, he wanted his actions to prove it too. He made his way to the kitchen to cook you your favourite meal. He got a hold of his phone and switched on the playlist which include all the songs both of you enjoyed. the sound of the vessels clucking against each other minimised over the song playing on through the speakers.

A smile lit up on his face as he reminisced back to the moment when you were dancing to this song while making the two of you breakfast.

FLASHBACK

Harry rubbed his eyes as he walked down the stairs, his dimpled smile already making its appearance when he heard your voice blasting through the kitchen entrance. He didn’t know why you bothered turning the song on so loud, you were anyways going to be louder. He stopped at the kitchen entrance, a silent laugh escaped him as he leaned against the door frame and took in the scene going on in front of him.

“You say you want a good time! Well here I am, baby, here I am, baby” you belted out loud, cheeks turning red with the happiness radiating out of you. You’d decided that the whisk was your microphone of choice with batter stuck to it and everything. You’re moving those luscious hips which drive him crazy right to the rhythm of the song.

“Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me talk to me, tell me what's on your mind!” you missed a note but you don’t care. This scene right in front of him, he wished he could capture and watch it forever. Bruno Mars did bring a wild side out of you, and he couldn’t bring himself to be jealous of the multi-talented singer. He would give anything to see you like this. Knowing you’re the shy type who doesn’t enjoy too much of attention, getting to watch you like this was definitely a sight.

He walked right up to you and wrapped his arms around you slowly. You jumped in a scare, as you were lost in your own world. “Harry! You scared me.” You complained, trying to ignore the blush on you cheeks after you realised he must’ve been watching you from a far.

He nuzzled into your neck and sighed, while pressing a kiss there, “Hmm… I’m sorry, m’love. But you just looked so beautiful I didn’t want to stop you.” He murmured while pressing more kisses to your neck, then trailing them up to your jawline. “Y’ look utterly ravishing right now. Forget pancakes, instead I’ll have you for breakfast.” He smiled and went on to kiss your cheeks. His comments made you smile. He saw his chance and lightly bite the side of your cheek. You squealed and tried to push him away.

“H, stop!” you laughed. He tightened his arms around you and swayed to the beat of the song then went on to sing next lyric “Tell me baby, tell me, tell me baby what you tryna do!” he slightly lifted up your t-shirt and moved one of his hands under it, and muttered, “huh? What are you trying to do to me, baby?” and pressed yet another kiss to your cheek.

“Gosh, your hands are extremely cold!” you gasped. He then turned you around to face him. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him. The two of you smiled quietly towards each other, then he leaned down to kiss you properly. You shifted one of your hands into his the nape of his neck and the other went on to cup his cheek. He moved one of his around your shoulder and the other around your waist. Both of you sighed and bathed in each other’s presence.

“G’morning, froggy” you teased as pulled away first and smiled up at him. He frowned and tutted, then smacked your ass lightly. You always teased him for his morning face, said it looked like a cute frog. He rubbed the area he spanked and quickly pecked you once again before pulling away to look at you.

Brushing away the hair stuck to your face, “Morning, precious. How’re you feeling?” he asked, hugging you towards his chest. Let’s just say the rest of the day went on just like this. Him being needy for your attention, and you loving on him without any hold backs.

END OF FLASHBACK

Right as he was getting ready to plate the dish, the doorbell rang. He smiled, happy to finally have you home. He quickly washed his hands and walked up to the door as he rubbed his hand dry with the towel which was once on his shoulder. He buzzed you in thinking you’ll unlock the main door with the security code. But after two minutes of waiting and not seeing you walk through the door, he turned on the camera above his buzzer to see what was wrong.

He frowned when he saw two police officers standing outside his door. His heart suddenly started racing at rapid speed. He rushed towards the door and unlocked them. Coming face to face with the two sombre looking men, he tentatively asked, “G’ evening, officers. How may I help you?”

The two men exchanged looks and the tall one replied, “Sir, there has been an accident and we found an ID on the victim. Is this Ms. Y/N Y/L/N residence? we’re here to inform you about the unfortunate event.”

“I-I don’t understand? What happened?” he stuttered, his legs almost felt as if they were about to give up.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have much information for you. May we ask what’s your relation to the victim?” the other officer asked, and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Fiancé.” He cleared his throat, trying to calm himself down. He could feel his panic attack rising. “I’m her fian-” he shook his head, “Just tell me where she is please…” he pleaded and quickly put on his shoes. He took his car keys and raced up to his rover.

“She’s over at St. Thomas, Mr. Styles.” The officers had clearly recognised the distressed man. “Here’s her ID. We hope everything is well.”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to thank them as he started his car and backed out of the parking spot. He raced up to the hospital, and once he reached, he ran up to the reception.

“Y-Y/N Y/L/N? S-She just c-came in? I’m her f-fiancé?” He gasped out your name. The lady was busy tending to others to notice him. “Hey! Hey! Please ma’am just tell me where she is!” he was on the verge of weeping in front of her.

The old lady looked at him with a bit of annoyance, “Take a breath, young man. I’m trying my best here!” She walked up to him. “Now tell me, what was her name again?”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” He rushed. He couldn’t stand straight. Once he got what he wanted, he ran towards the elevator, up to the fifth floor. The corridor was busy and he couldn’t care less about pushing people aside. He just wanted to get to you as soon as he could. He found your door and barged in, not caring about the doctors around your bed.

“Y/N!” He rushed to your side, dropping beside your bed.

“Sir you can’t be her-” the male nurse tried to pull him back.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, precious!” He cried, trying to get the man off of him and get back to you. “I’m here now, okay? I’m not going anywhere- GET OFF ME. SHE NEEDS ME!” he yelled pushing the guy away.

“Hey man you’re no good to her at the moment yeah? Let the doctors do their job!” the nurse tried to make him understand while pulling him back yet again. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to reach to you. He sobbed over your state, blood was streaming down your forehead, and all he wanted to do was protect you and wrap his arms around you.

“No I need to be here! Please let me!” he cried. All of sudden a beep brought his cries to a halt. He looked around frantically wanting to know what had happened. “W-What’s wrong?!” he hiccupped.

The doctor and the nurses around him started rushing around the room. He then heard those words which made his heart stop, “She has flat-lined! Someone pass me the defibrillator!” the  doctor raised his voice.

Harry couldn’t believe this was happening. The nurse had enough of the unwilling man and pushed him out the door, “Sir we cannot help her if you’re being difficult. Please calm down and go to the waiting room. We will inform you about her doing as soon as we can.” and then shut the door to his face. Harry could no longer see you. The group of doctors, covered your body.

He slid down the wall next to your door and sobbed into his hands. Only if he would’ve stopped you from leaving. Only if he would’ve told you that he forgives you and that he loved you more than anything. Only if he would’ve let the argument die and kiss you instead. Only if…

Later, the upset man walked himself to the toilet. He caught his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t care about his red swollen eyes, his sweaty forehead and matted hair. The image of you lying on that bed yet again brought tears to his eyes. The thought of you not making it made him retch and he rushed into one of the restrooms. He dry-heaved and cried. Once he was able to breathe, he took out his phone.

Sniffling as he dialled the only number he could think of, The voice on the other side made him breakdown. “Mum I-” he couldn’t complete his sentence, as he tried to wipe his eyes.

“Harry? Darling what’s wrong?!” she asked shocked at her son’s rapid breathing.

“Y/N s-she is- Mum I can’t lose her. I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have let her leave. What if she doesn’t make it?” He wept while running his sticky fingers through his hair.

“Love, what-” she tried to ask him, but he cut her off.

“What if she…What if she dies, mum?” he cried and coughed.

His mother had figured out by now that you were not okay, and might be admitted in the hospital. She tried to calm her son through the phone. Unfortunately, she wasn’t near him and by the time she would reach it might not be enough. So she did the only thing she could once Harry hung up the phone, she rang up his friends.

Harry sat himself down on one of the wating room chairs. No one was telling him anything, he had no idea how you were doing or if you were okay. He was out of tears, and soon enough the exhaustion took over him. He didn’t even realise when he had fallen asleep until he felt a hand brush the back of his head. He opened his eyes and saw his two friends crouching in front of him.

“Hey buddy…” Louis smiled softly. Harry jolted back up, and got up to run towards your room. But before he could stand up straight Mitch stopped him. “H, they just came in here to inform us about her condition.”

“How’s she? Is she okay? Is she awake? She needs me, I need to be beside her.” He rushed. His two close friends, tried to calm him down.

“They said she’s stable now, mate. But we aren’t allowed to meet her yet, okay?” Louis stated.

Harry took deep breaths and looking at their extremely destressed friend, Louis pulled him into a hug. Getting the comfort he desperately needed, Harry started sobbing again. He was tired of crying but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“Everything is going to be okay, Harry. She’s our little tigress, she’s going to pull through, yeah?” Mitch ran a hand drown his friend’s shoulder. Harry nodded lightly and tried to slow down his heart.

48 Hours Later

It’s been two days, yesterday Harry was allowed to visit you since they moved you out of the ICU. Thankfully, your internal recovery was rapid, and you could wake up anytime. He was getting a bit impatient. He wanted to see you open those shiny eyes and look at him the way you always did, with so much love that made him giddy and flustered. These past two days he’s been talking to you, continuously apologising for his behaviour, and how he’s going to make up for everything that went wrong. You just had to come back to him.

“and then Louis got frustrated because Mitch was not answering him. But that’s Mitch for you, right?” he slightly smiled and ran the hand which wasn’t holding you hand, through your hair. “You’re going to hate your hair, once you wake up. You always like them a certain way, don’t you? But don’t you worry, I’ll help you wash your hair as soon as you wake up and come back home.” He stated and kissed your hand. He was silent for a while, just continued to run his hand through your hair.

“You’re going to come back to me, right precious?” he asked quietly, “Why aren’t you waking up, huh? Your froggy needs you to open your eyes....” he continued, as he forced a laugh out of his throat which had a huge lump in it. His eyes turned misty as he continued, “I hate it here. Seeing you like this is a nightmare. I miss you so much. I miss you calling me annoying little names. I miss you smacking me when I’m being a narcissistic little prick. I miss your voice. I miss everything about you, and even though it’s just been two day, I feel like it’s been forever. Wake up, baby. Please…” he pleaded.

As the day turned into night, Harry decided to stay back. He asked for an extra blanket and a pillow for his makeshift bed on the couch. He didn’t know why he bothered because he spent the entire night sitting beside you, holding your hand as he fell asleep leaning against it.

You could listen before you could see. The only thing you could hear was the air conditioner and someone lightly snoring against your right hand. You tried to move your fingers as you opened your eyes. The bright light made you squint, you blinked rapidly as your vision cleared. You turned to your right and saw Harry’s peaceful face sleeping against your hand. You felt the need to clear your throat, and your eyes searched the room for a glass of water. But the sound made Harry wake up from his sleep. He lifted his face and wiped the little drool from his face and the little amount on your hand.

“whoops, you’d kill me now if you were awak-” he turned to look at your face, and he had to double take. He gasped, almost falling off this chair. “Y/N…Oh my- you’re awake!” he nearly yelled. He pressed the button to call the nurse and then cupped your face going on to press kisses to your face, “Baby I was so scared. I thought I had lost you!” He laughed his airy laugh and looked at you with utter happiness.

For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. The words he said to you were the only thing swimming through your mind. For you time had stood still, like the fight had happened mere hours ago. You moved your face away from his hands. Harry frowned noticing this change in your mood.

“Hey what’s wrong? The doctor is on her way, yeah. Do y’need anything?” he asked frantically following your eyes round the room. He saw you eye the plastic cup beside your bed, “Y’ want water? Hold on I’ll get it for you.” He ran to the other side and brought the cup up to your face. You didn’t realise how thirsty you were until the first sip hit your throat, you started gulping it down quickly.

“Take it easy, precious. They took out the tube just yesterday.” He explained softly.

Once your thirst was quenched he kept the cup aside then went on to pull his sleeve over his knuckles and wiped the wet corners of your mouth. You moved your face aside yet again, he couldn’t understand what was wrong. But before he could ask you, the doctor came in to check on you. She did her tests and asked a few questions. She left as soon as she was done, and told you even though the injury looked worse than it actually is, you had take it easy for a couple of days.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, “How’re you feeling, love?” he asked quietly. You nodded, “I’m okay.” He came up to you and raised his hand to caress your cheek. But before he could touch you, your head turned to the opposite side. He couldn’t take it anymore, so he asked you.

“Will you please look at me? What’s happened, precious?” as he caressed your hair.

“Why should I look at you, Harry? So you can tell me how careless I am, or how I’m not trustworthy?” you rasped quietly. For a minute he was unable understand what you were trying to say. Then flashbacks from your fight the other night came back rushing to him. The things he said to you, and how guilty he felt later. His words had left a huge impact than he thought they did.

He took your face in his hand with very much to little force, he had to tell you this, “Y/N y’have absolutely no idea for how sorry I am for that night-” but you didn’t let him complete.

“That’s only because I got into this accident.” You snapped. He shook his head rapidly, he saw you getting worked up over this. You’ve always been a little firecracker, and you never failed to tell him when he was being a dick or to defend yourself quite amazingly, he always loved that quality. Apropos, he couldn’t let you hurt yourself in this condition.

“First of all, please calm down-” he started, “don’t tell me to calm down, harry!” you raged. He hated himself for smiling when you’re clearly very upset. But for the past few days he had to witness you lie there lifeless which had taken a toll on his mental state. He loved the fact that you were awake, so you yelling at him was more of a reward than a punishment. You looked at him sharply and saw him not taking you seriously, this brought tears to your eyes.

You sniffled and looked away from him to rest your head against the pillows on the raised up side of your bed roughly. Harry’s small smile melted away as quickly as it appeared. He rubbed the side you almost banged to the pillow, “I’m so sorry, precious. I swear I did not mean anything I said.” He pleaded and took a seat down on the chair beside you.

Right then the nurse which pushed him out of the room the other day and now was much like a friend to him entered the room with a tray which had a bowl of soup and jello in it. Harry smiled at him gratefully and took the tray from him as the guy set up the table on your bed.

“How’re you feeling, Ms. Y/L/N?” he asked once he was ready to leave. You gave him a small smile and said you were feeling better. The moment he left Harry looked back at you with a longing look on his face, when you refused to look at him he sighed and set the tray down on the small table and took a seat in front you on the bed. He looked at you as he removed the metal spoon from its cover, and then went on to remove the cover set on top of the soup. He blew light air on the spoonful of soup, then brought it up to your mouth. You refused to touch it. He sighed and looked at you pleadingly, “Y’ know someone told me we shouldn’t remove our anger on food.” He stated, turning your words against you.

You glared at him in anger for minute as he looked at you with a loving smile. “Please?” He moved it closer to your mouth, “You’ve got to eat it, I’m not budging unless you do, Y/N.”

Even though you wanted to stay stubborn, you were kind of hungry. So you let him feed you the soup. When he got to the jello, you refused profoundly. “But it’s the chocolate flavoured one! Remember the time we used to share one when I was here for my fractured foot? C’mon we’ll share this one too, if y’want?” he tried convincing you with his soft eyes.

“I don’t want to share it with you. Actually, I don’t want anything to do with you at the moment to be completely honest.” you snapped. You were aware of the fact that you were being very unreasonable and bitchy but it was his words that has caused extreme hurt to you. Your words hurt Harry, and it was evident on his face. He wrapped up the jello and cleared everything. The day passed, and in the evening your last visitor entered the room.

“There she is!” Louis came up to you and hugged you lightly, making sure not to hurt you. “Hello, darling. How’re you?” he kissed your forehead. Harry left you alone with him as he went to get the two of them some coffee.

“What’s happened to him? Why the long face still? I mean I get that Harry loves to pretend that he’s this macho man and all. S’ a bit ridiculous to be honest. Like who’s he kidding, he’s a puppy.” Louis laughed. You smiled at this.

“I’m still a bit upset with him over our fight. So I haven’t been talking to him.” You explained. Louis frowned at this and then sighed, “Oh love don’t do that... This has been very tough for him. Should’ve seen his state these past few days. The man has been a mess ever since the officers came to your house that night.”

“I’m trying, Lou. But I just can’t forget all the things he said. I was so hurt, I still am!” you rubbed your forehead, as it was beginning to give you an ache.

“He’s very sorry, Y/N. Trust me when I say that I’ve never seen him like I saw him that day. He just wanted you to wake up. He was just blaming himself, how he shouldn’t have let you leave the house.” He took a hold of your hand, “he loves you so much, darling. He’s absolutely mad over you.” He rubbed your hand, “A’bit obsessed if you ask me. If I were you I’d have him get that checked with a therapist.” He joked, you laughed loudly. He smiled with you, and passed you the water you signalled for.

“Forgive him, Y/N. He can’t even bring himself to go home. The only time he went there was to get some clothes, and to put the dinner he made for you in the rubbish bin.” He sassed. “and I know I’m speaking for Mitch too here when I say this, but both him and I could use a break from all the non-stop stress weeping calls we’ve been getting from him.” You gasped at him with a mock offence for Harry, and lightly smacked his shoulder. You were always thankful for Louis in moments like these. He was a great friend to you and Harry.

Harry came back with two coffees and passed one to his blue-eyed friend. He took a seat on the sofa which was against the wall, and the three of you, though it was mostly you and Louis, had a light conversation while the men finished up their coffee. Louis bid his farewell with another kiss on your forehead and a well wish, you thanked him and waved goodbye. Harry walked him out the door, and came back in a second later.

“Y’ need anything?” He asked as he took a seat on the chair beside you. You shook your head as you observed him fidgeting with the cuticles of his nails. He did that when he was anxious.

Neither of you spoke for a while. But the minute you heard a sniffle, you snapped your head towards him. You tried to get a look at his face, the tip of his nose was a bit red and he was now fidgeting with his feet too. He wasn’t crying but he sure was on the verge of it.

You suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of love for the man in front of you. You leaned against your bed and sighed, smiling a little. It’s pathetic how in love you were with each other. You couldn’t even stay mad at him.

“Harry?” You whispered softly. He hummed without looking up. So you continued, “I need you to do something” you faked a stern voice to play with him a bit more.

“Yeah sure, what’s it?” he muttered as he got up and rubbed his hands down his thighs, then finally looked at you. You looked at him without an expression and said, “I need you to come here and give me a good cuddle, a kiss too if I like the cuddle.” And then smiled at him lovingly. He looked at you for a second. You almost thought he was  going to yell at you, but the opposite happened. He started tearing up and heavy tear drops ran down his cheeks.

You gasped and quickly leaned forward to take a hold of his hand which was near you. “Oh Harry..” You whispered as you pulled him near you. He the minute you sat him in front of you, he started crying heavily. You were so shocked yet you’ve never been more mesmerised by him. You quickly tried wiping his tears away and comforted him, “Honey, don’t cry. I’m not upset anymore!”

“I-I’m honestly s-sorry! I promise I didn’t mean what I said that day, Y/N!” he tried to speak while wiping his tears.

“I know, babe. I know!” you tried to say it properly but it came out in a laughing manner and tried to draw the crying man close to you, but seeing you laugh made him more upset and he pushed you away lightly, so you forcefully pulled him into a cuddle.

He told himself he’s letting himself be pulled because he didn’t want to hurt you, but it was actually because he wanted you close, so he went in head first. You lay down against the pillows and cuddle him against your chest. He went on sniffling into your neck and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Harry why are you crying!” you tried controlling your laughter. He whined and pulled his face away, “Y’were so fucking mean since the moment you woke up. I didn’t expect it.” He said and hiccupped, thanks to the sobbing breakdown he just had. You pulled on your lips so you wouldn’t smile.

“Well now you know, honey. It hurts, doesn’t it? You were so mean to me too!” You teased. He nuzzled back into your neck, pressing kisses there which always made you giggle.

“I’m really sorry, precious. Honestly, I really am.” He said into your neck, yet producing another hiccup. You couldn’t control yourself anymore so you smiled and pressed a quite a few smooches to his temple, and inhaled his comforting scent.

“It’s okay, baby. I forgive you. I’m sorry for my foolish mistake too, I really didn’t mean to ruin your hard work like that.” You apologised. He pulled away and brought the hand that was around your waist to your cheek and said, “I forgave you a long time ago, but you honestly don’t have to apologise at all. It could happen to anyone, m’love. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Y’know I made dinner and everything as an apology. But then the officers…” his tone dropped and he couldn’t continue. So, you sadly smiled and pulled him in for a kiss.

He sighed and reciprocated the kiss with so much love and passion that you couldn’t help but wrap the arm which around his shoulder a bit more tighter and ran the other through the back of his head gently. The two of you pulled away and looked into each other’s eyes, he moved the hair that escaped from your braid and tucked it behind your ear, “I was so scared. I thought I had lost you.” He whispered softly, and swallowed the small lump, “I missed you a lot, baby” he said and you couldn’t help but peck his cute pout.

“I missed you too, froggy” you replied. The pet name made him reward you with a dimpled smile. He nuzzled into your neck and whispered, “I love you.”

“and I love you.” You kissed his forehead.

“Just for your information, I’m not letting you out of my sight for a really long time.” He stated sternly.

You laughed but stopped when you saw he wasn’t joking, “You know I have to work, right?”

“Y’can easily take a break for a month or two.” He said, as he yawned and cuddle closer to you. “A MONTH OR TWO?! Have you gone mad?” you gasped, lightly pulling on his hair.

“No I haven’t. Try to get rid of me, baby. I dare you.” He laughed a scheming laugh. You knew he wasn’t joking. He tended to become quite paranoid and obsessive over you when situations like these occur. But you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“We’ll see, mister.” You said, and caressed the back of his head.

“oh we will, missus.”

The End.

Author’s Note: I really put in a lot of efforts on this one, so you guys kind of owe me *wink* y'all gotta humour my praise kink now!!! ;P

Love you guys! 

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harrystyles #harry edward styles #one direction #harry styles one shot #harry angst #one direction fanfiction #one direction imagine #daddy harry #daddy harry imagines #harry feels #boyfriend!harry #one shot #in-the-name-of-styles #1d imagines #1D Harry Styles #original #harry styles fluff #angst #1d angst #harry styles writings #HES #harry styles fanfic #my writing #harry au #harry styles fic #sub!harry #harry styles imagines

[yostresswritinggirl]

Readers: We want Red Xiao x Reader x Green Xiao content PLEASE

Exiled: Well yes but actually no

+

Intermittent

Pairing -> Red/Green Xiao x Reader

Word Count -> 2088

Themes -> Okay, get this: Fluff, Angst, Suggestive scene (but not too bad). It's a trifecta.

Series -> #SojournerSpecials (masterlist)

Credit: @m370N4 for Header

Warnings -> Spoilers, violence, oh gawd there's so many violence

Your lover is going through a phase.

Perhaps you should have expected this much after the things that he's gone through, and the things that he is going through. The Archon War does not pick its victims. Saints and sinners, weak and strong, participants and bystanders; they all have one thing in common, they all can die any day now as the war rages on.

The thought of impending doom puts your heart into great unease as your arms tighten, lips softly pecking the red diamond on the Yaksha's forehead as he sighs in what you hope was relief.

The adepti are strong and aid in this war under the stead of Rex Lapis, but on the forefront of greater danger leads the Yakshas. The fateful battle between Osial and the Geo Archon ended not too long ago to put an end against the Lord's destructive ministrations, but Gods do not die, only slumber; his hatred in great intensities brought forth demonic plague that now haunts the blood bathed lands of Liyue. With his indispensable power and contractual obligation, Xiao became one of the five known Yakshas devoted to conquering those evil.

You were no beast in the battlefield but alongside Cloud Retainer and Ganyu you hold well in ensuring the well-being of mankind, but you only wish there was anything you can do to help the true warriors of the Harbour.

"How are you feeling?" You ran your hands through his chopped hair as his body leans against you, still tense. Xiao produces a strangled groan upon the question, a sound you still have yet to grow accustomed to.

It was a side effect even the glorified Archon did not expect. Yet it was too late to back down from the duties, to turn away from the chaos.

"Still standing, nothing I cannot handle," leaning away from your hold, his honey eyes then sets upon yours in gentle reassurance. Exposed fingers softly brushing against your cheekbone reminiscent of a flutter, so light it sends your heart into a faster pace. "And on your end? I have heard of the mortals establishing a new type of governance, how is it faring?"

Xiao hooks his fingers under your chin in full attention, and the pairing with his tantalizing smile sent your mind melting. "It's going-," your cleared your throat of the strangled pitch you produced and tried again, "Going great! Ganyu made it her duty to oversee it as the secretary."

"That is a fine arrangement." He hums inquisitively but you both know his attention was on somewhere else, what with the way his sharp orbs kept flickering to gaze on your lips. And with how his face was slowly, surely drawing near.

"Indeed, indeed." Breathed you as you closed your eyes, ready to capture his lips for a longing kiss, his other hand rests on your lower back to guide you to his lap—

When the shutter doors slammed open, the interruption causing you to yelp as Xiao embarrassingly hides your head to his exposed chest. That did NOT lessen the warmth of your cheeks.

"Conqueror of Demons! I- I'm sorry to interrupt-"

"Pervases, go on."

"The Yaksha of flames-" A rumbling roar of a scream had all three of you shoot your heads up in alert. And within seconds you had scrambled to your feet, rushing out of the shrine to investigate the commotion. The atmosphere had you choking from the scent of arson, black smoke erupting from the burning grass and natural flora around the area.

But in the middle of the ruins had you almost dispelling the contents of your stomach, your hand shooting up to cover your mouth at the the sight. Besides you Xiao dashes past in a vain attempt to quell the flames— the lick of fire that burned the Pyro Yaksha whole, who screams in both agony and anguish over the deep unknown, skin and clothes turning black and charred.

Xiao's swings barely made a dent to the wall of fire that prevents anyone from coming close to the Yaksha. "Please, leave me alone! Let me go! Stop it!" There was an illusionary sense to her words as she screams at the empty void in front and within her, piercing and aching. You called for her name, shouted, in hopes that she may snap out of it.

Dried up tears came upon her ruby gaze as it flickers over to yours. She heard you. Her lips quivered into those of familiarity and she opens her mouth- only to scream her loudest, one last painful cry, as her body drops as a smoking corpse.

Charred and pure black. Twitching and steaming, but not alive.

You didn't realize you were crying until you felt the comfort of Xiao's hand wiping at your cheek, his red fingerless gloves catching the dampness as you released your sobs.

You didn't notice the gradual decrease of red in his clothing until you looked at him one day without feeling a pang on your chest. When you looked at him with only curiousity upon him calling your name, he offered a smile as he cups your cheek; it didn't feel like the same traumatic time when the Yaksha died, your cheek leaning on his cerulean palm.

It wasn't red. Maybe that's what drove away your thoughts.

"It looks good on you," you mumbled as you watched his now black and green hair sway from the breeze.

"Thank you."

The clouds of Jueyun Karst brings peace to all that gazes on it. That may be the reason why it was Menogias' favorite place to sit by upon finishing her duties for the day, and at times she invites you over when you are done with your own; 'your presence soothes me, it's unfair that Xiao gets to keep you to himself, even if he is your lover!' you giggle at the verbatim the Hydro Yaksha always spouts everytime she drags you away from the other, with a cute yet teasing pout on her pristine face.

Those moments always has you laughing guiltily as you wave to Xiao, who only dons a gentle smile at you two's dynamic.

But she was beautiful and elegant despite her slaughtering hands, with a mind vivid and witty.

And so you find peace next to her, as both of your hands weave cloth into apparels to calm your minds. She had always been an avid fan of stitching and knitting even her own clothes, the only reason you knew how to weave the needle was because of her incessant teachings. Right now she knits a sleeve of beautiful patterns while you took on the duty to make a wooly scarf. Jueyun Karst is cold.

"How are you faring, dear? I have heard you and Xiao-" your hands paused at the implications, "-were witness to the passing of the Yaksha Indarias. Changes are glaring among that of the Conqueror of Demons, but you are a special case who is not under the influence of the karmic binds."

Her cold blue gaze seem to pierce your soul unintentionally and you couldn't bring yourself to look upon them.

You gulped and ceased on finishing the blanket to look at her own work. It was pretty. Tiring and fearful, not just for yourself, but for her too. And especially Xiao.

She holds you close in a soft embrace as you poured your honest confessions; it felt unfair for them to suffer like this, driven to self-destruction or to eternal agony. Menogias strokes your hair affectionately as she reassures your worries.

After all, they knew their oath would come to this.

And they still honored their duties to protect Liyue, for both the mortals and the realm of the Adepti.

"H-How about you?" You sniffled, looking up at her now gentle gaze. "Have you been feeling well? I don't want you to be destroyed by your own mind too."

The Yaksha's gracious smile parts after a pause to finally reply, when a glint from the side suddenly interrupted your peace-

azure pupils dilated upon recognition;

your body flies back upon her powerful push;

blood spurs from her right thigh as a jagged pillar of rock pierces through;

your back and hitting the cliff's compact ground as your vision swims.

No, no, no, no, you recognize that glow even if it was similar to another. Your body whimpers as you struggle to get up, rolling to your side to see the inevitable— the floating silhouette of the Geo Yaksha raises his arm where an orb glows over it, a single eye glows from his shadow...

The last you saw was the flash of neons and black before the world was engulfed by a blinding light.

The next thing you know you were desperately trying not to puke as you cradled the mawled and still bleeding corpse of Menogias, weakly patting her cheeks as your desperate attempts to wake her- to convince yourself that she was still alive. That the spears of stones impaled through numerous part of her body was nonexistent.

Behind you Xiao flicks his head to the side as his mask disperses. His jade spear dripping with blood as her gentle eyes hardened as it squeezes out the tears.

"(Y/N)," your wails turned into whimpers and hiccups, loose arms wrapping around your waist as Xiao pulls you away from the bloody mess. You didn't have the spirit to protest, your eyes still trained on the deceased Yaksha's face as you wept in your lover's arms.

A familiar censer that wasn't there before hangs by his waist.

And when the pain didn't make you weep anymore, a beautifully woven sleeve of blue and clouds adorn his left arm. Those who live after a millenia would not be aware of a reminiscent and deep scar hidden beneath it.

"I was not aware you were out of your domain," the moment he landed, a firm hand grasps your waist to keep you steady on the balcony's railings. Where you're currently perched on, precariously.

You were still unused to the purple cloth that flows behind him. But it matches the wind that comes with him, and the beautiful clashes of colors that makes up who he is now. He was not reminiscent of the red gentleness that he was 2000 years ago, but a teal shadow that lingers at the edges of your vision as a blur.

"I wanted to thank you for purging the malignant monsters that haunted my domain by the cavern," your gaze falls away from the moon as you swing your legs up and over, turning to face the Inn and him yet still remaining seated on the railing.

His eyes were hostile, not at all indicative of the lightness it had long ago. Chest covered in white, and the many memorabilias that dangle with him. Xiao's hands rests on the railing by your side as your fingertip traces the Vajra hanging by his neck, chunky to pointy; Pervases, the name leaves your lips in a whisper.

A guttural growl leaves him in intensity that had you reeling yet still worried for him. Behind his lidded eyes were pure hurt from the fear you conveyed, but he shook his head at all the thoughts that invades. Xiao lets loose a tired yet mocking laugh, "I just remembered something unpleasant."

Before he can turn back to gaze at your ethereal form, you've thrown your arms around his head to pull him against your chest. Your grip and uneven heartbeat alerted him of your will to not cry at his misfortune; such sympathy is wasted on him, yet he wraps his arms around you close in a gentleness that once again reflects his deepest trait.

"...your blessings, not your flaws."

At the sound of your familiar lyrics, as if with a mind of its own, the tension on his shoulders drop immediately into your warmth.

"You've got it all, you lost your mind in the sound;

There's so much more, you can reclaim your crown;

You're in control, rid of the monsters inside your head;

Put all your faults to bed."

Urged the strokes of your hand on his head, the voices quiet into almost nothingness. The Conqueror of Demons smiles again.

"You can be king again."

To the realm of the Adepti and those who knows even the slightest of him, it was nothing to debate about when it is claimed that you were the real reason that the golden-winged king, the Conqueror of Demons— that Xiao still exists today.

If you recognize the song 🤝 big sad

@moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan @creation-magician @hanniejji @gojos-baby @just-some-stars @volleybloop @kookieyachi @xiaophilia @bunniesrorange @anormalguyreader @scarletroseneko

#genshin impact x reader #Xiao x reader #genshin impact Xiao #exile.flower #Angst #Fluff #segcy #Xiao² #I have given in to the temptation #gender neutral #xiao genshin impact #sojourner special

[sunkisseddaffodils]

reunion- pt 2 (final)

Pairing: sherlock x fem!reader

Request: 'hi! can i pls request a sherlock x fem!reader fic in which reader is kinda john's childhood bestfriend, but they were separated when reader with her parents moved somewhere (to united states, for instance). so now when she is in britain again, she sort of struggles with finding a not very fancy place to stay. fortunately, she meets our johnny boi and he immediately proposes for her to stay in 221c, baker-street. so reader moves there, meets sherly and they sorta starting to fall in luv with each other'

Summary: Sherlock accidentally drags up some old unwanted memories for the reader

Genre: reader insert, angst

A/n: this is the final part of the above request. Sorry, I didn't exactly follow the request but I mostly tried to. Thanks to anon for requesting though! Enjoy!

Read pt 1 here.

-

The following day, after a restless night’s sleep, Y/N sat nervously in Mrs’s Hudson cosy kitchenette. Mrs Hudson had switched on the kettle and was preparing to make both of them a cup of tea. From what John had told her, she was perfectly lovely but she couldn’t help but be anxious. It was in her nature; she worried about everything. She made sure to bring papers to prove to her that she had a monthly income. But what if that wasn’t enough and Mrs Hudson had already decided that she wasn’t good enough to stay in her upstairs flat? The sound of china cups being placed on the table brought her back from the depths of her mind.

‘What brings you to London? John tells me you moved all the way from the States?’

John was right, Mrs Hudson was delightful. Y/N felt more relaxed at the sound of her comforting voice.

‘I’m starting my training next week to be a dentist in Harley Street ’

Mrs Hudson’s eyes genuinely glistened with interest.

‘Oh? John told me you already completed dental school in Seattle? Aren’t you already qualified?’

‘Yeah in the States. To work here, I have to do an extra year before I’m qualified. I don’t mind though, I wanted a fresh start in the UK.’

A door closing behind them interrupted their conversation. Both Y/N and Mrs H turned to where the noise came from but couldn’t see who or what made it. The latter called out.

‘Sherlock? John? Is that you?’

With no response, they returned to their conversation.

‘Y/N, you seem like a lovely young woman with a bright future. Of course, you can stay in the upstairs flat!’

She smiled widely, uttering a thousand ‘thank yous’. Y/N grabbed her important documents and handed them to Mrs Hudson.

‘Thank you. I’ll take a look at these later.’

Tomorrow, Mrs Hudson gave Y/N a tour of 221c. She fell speechless as she looked around. It was the same layout as Sherlock’s but had recently been renovated to have a more modern look. The apartment was already furnished so all she had to do was move her belonging's in from storage. She couldn’t believe that she was able to afford this apartment! Especially, as it was in central London. Promptly, she strolled over to where her new landlady was waiting by the front door.

‘So I get all this for this price? That’s insanely cheap for London.’

Y/N commented while pointing to the tenancy agreement Mrs Hudson was holding.

Simply, she just chuckled.

‘I do special rates for Sherlock and John. If you’re a friend of John’s then you’re a friend of mine. I’ll do the same for you.’

She continued.

'I met Sherlock in Florida when my husband was sentenced to death. He was able to help out so I owed him a favour. ’

Her face was completely serious yet it sounded so implausible. How could a lovely little lady like Mrs Hudson have such an impossible past like that? Adding to that, Y/N wondered that Sherlock really must be a genius if he can stop someone from being executed.

‘Wait, are you saying that Sherlock stopped your husband from being executed?’

‘Oh no, he ensured it.’

And with that bombshell of a statement, Mrs Hudson disappeared downstairs leaving Y/N utterly astonished in her new apartment. She made a note to herself to remind her to ask John about Mrs Hudson’s past. There was so much she wanted to know about her life.

A few days passed and the time finally arrived for Y/N to move into 221c. She was standing outside the cafe with Mrs Hudson, waiting for the moving company to arrive along with her possessions. She glanced at her watch, anxiously. The moving people were already five minutes late. Meanwhile, Sherlock and John were upstairs having carried three boxes between them that Y/N had brought herself. John was busying himself, tidying up the flat, waiting for a text from Y/N so he and Sherlock could help her move in and set up the place. He had told Sherlock to make himself useful but looking over his way, he hadn’t. Sherlock was staring intensely at the three boxes they had placed on the dining table by the windows. John marched over there to tell him off.

‘Sherlock! What are you doing? If you’re not going to make yourself useful up here, then can you at least go downstairs to check what’s taking the mover’s so long?’

Sherlock completely disregarded everything he just said.

‘Look at these three boxes, John. What do they tell you?’

He just groaned.

‘Nothing, they’re just boxes.’

‘Fine, if you’re not going to play ball then I will just tell you.Y/N has made sure she took these boxes here herself. Why? That suggests they’re private and she doesn’t want strangers, i.e the movers, to touch them. The first two boxes are labelled: electronics and toiletries. Makes sense then for why she would want to move them herself: one’s valuable and the others personal.’

He pointed towards the last cardboard box.

‘But why hasn’t she labelled this one? I’m sure I’m right to assume that she would have labelled every single box from what I’ve seen from these two. So what’s in this box that separates it from the rest?’

John stepped away from the dining table and started fluffing some pillows on the couch.

‘Sherlock, I really couldn’t care less. There’s nothing weird going on. She’s not part of some underground crime syndicate. Just leave it alone. You can’t know everything.’

However, the crinkling of tape being peeled off from the box told John that Sherlock, was in fact, not going to leave it alone.

John raced back over to the table and seized the box from Sherlock. Soon, a tug of war for the box began between them.

‘You are not going through Y/N’s private things!’

He yanked the box harder.

‘But John, I have to know what’s in there.’

John glared at him, pulling the box back towards him.

‘Tough luck. Once again let me spell this out: you cannot go through other people’s belongings. It’s rude.’

Sherlock’s grip remained firm, however.

‘Don’t you want to know more about why she’s moved back here? The answer could be in this box. It’s strange that she just packed up and left her life back in Seattle. She obviously doesn’t have any family here. Otherwise, why would she come to you for help? And there’s also the fact I heard her tell Mrs Hudson that she has to do extra training to be a qualified dentist in the UK. Why go to all that effort when she’s already qualified back in the US? Aren’t you in the least bit curious?’

John once again dragged the box back to him.

‘Oh so now you’re not only going through her stuff, you’re also eavesdropping on her?’

Sherlock was offended even though there was a hint of truth to what John was saying.

‘It wasn’t eavesdropping! I just happened to overhear her.’

What Sherlock was saying did make John curious, but still, Y/N deserved her privacy. It was up to her if she wanted to them the real reason she moved back to the UK. John was about to tell Sherlock this when the door burst open.

‘Hey, guys! The movers are here now if you wanna come down.’

Y/N’s voice staggered when she saw the scene before her.

In a moment of alarm, both Sherlock and John had dropped the box. Its content spilt out onto the floor. An off-white ornate picture frame smashed onto the hard wooden floor, glass spraying everywhere. The picture in the frame was of Y/N and a man in front of the Seattle Great Wheel. Y/N stood in surprise as the said man was knelt down holding a rose gold diamond-encrusted ring. The picture frame was custom engraved and it read ‘For my love.’

Oh.

It all made sense now to Sherlock.

However, there was no time to think more about the picture. Sherlock and John stood like a deer in headlights

‘It was Sherlock!’

John pointed accusingly towards Sherlock.

Y/N didn’t say anything, simply walked over to where the box had fallen, glass crunching under converse trainers. She knelt down to pick up the photograph. She remained there for a moment, an expression of profound anguish on her face.

John tried to help her up, but she refused. She practically ran out of the flat, trying to conceal her pain. John didn’t even have time to tell her that she had cut her knees on the glass from the floor. He grabbed a broom from the kitchen and started cleaning up the mess on the floor. He looked at Sherlock who was still in the same place. He had a look of regret on his face.

‘Sherlock there’s no point making that face now! You’re cleaning this mess up too. We’re going to make it up to her by making this apartment look really nice before she comes back.’

As he shifted the box back onto the table, he thought of his own way to make it up to Y/N.

-

Y/N was falling asleep at her desk, she was now four hours into writing her essay on dental hygiene. She placed her head in her hands, thinking she would just have a quick nap. Her phone ringing ended that plan though. She saw that it was Sherlock and hesitated. She still hadn’t forgiven him for trying to go through her things and bringing back unpleasant memories. It had been a week into ignoring him and giving him the cold shoulder. She let it ring out. Sherlock still didn’t get the hint and texted her.

‘Y/N meet me here. I wanna make it up to you. S.H’

That text was accompanied by a GPS location.

Y/N couldn’t think of any possible reason why Sherlock had asked to meet her here. Her uber ride had stopped outside of a manor house just on the outskirts of London. She quickly checked with the driver to make sure she was at the right place. To her bewilderment, he answered yes. Hesitantly, she strolled up to the door. She didn’t even have to knock when Sherlock opened the door. He motioned for her to follow him.

‘Sherlock, what the actual fuck? Do you live here?’

Sherlock led her through a ton of rooms. Y/N swear she could have counted there were at least five formal living rooms.

‘Nope.’

He opened a set of French doors and led her out into the back garden of the estate. Not that you could call it a garden. It was massive. In the distance, she saw stables as they walked through a formal botanical garden. Sherlock was more like running though, but Y/N didn’t know what was so urgent.

‘So if you don’t live here. Then who does?’

An undesirable thought entered her mind.

‘Don’t tell me you broke in here?’

Sherlock turned around just outside of the exit to the formal gardens, jangling keys in front of her face, a childish grin on his face.

‘It’s not breaking in if you have a set of keys.’

They had finally reached their final destination. Y/N saw that someone had set up a bonfire in the middle of a field. A can of petrol and a box lay adjacent to it. That box seemed really familiar. Sherlock picked it up and brought it over. It was hers!

‘Sherlock, you’re going through my things again. You know what, I’m done here!’

She began jogging back towards the house. Sherlock grabbed her arm.

‘Wait! Y/N. Let me explain.’

She gazed back at him intensely, waiting for an explanation.

He placed the box down.

‘I know you haven’t told me about what happened. But unfortunately, I am good at deducing things. Those things in that box came from a bad past relationship. I’m pretty sure I can guess what happened.’

He started to stammer, not sure of how to word what he wanted to say next.

Y/N wasn’t sure where he was going with this but could see he was trying.

‘John will be the first to let you know that I’m no expert on love or on relationships. But I can see you haven’t moved on. I thought it might help if you chucked all of the old stuff from the relationship on that bonfire and set it alight.’

She looked down, knowing that Sherlock was right. He had guessed everything perfectly. He had read her like a book.

‘You’re right. But I took running away from your problems to the extremest.’

She sat down on the grass, wrapping her arms around her knees. Sherlock shortly joined her.

‘He was my world. Or I thought he was until one night I returned home to see him shagging my best friend on the sofa.’

There was a moment of silence before she continued.

‘I just felt so foolish. I had to get away from Seattle. The place was full of memories of my time with him. I couldn’t stand it any longer.’

Sherlock got up and picked up the box.

‘And that’s why you should burn this stuff. He doesn’t deserve to have this much hold on you when he never cared about you in the slightest. We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. But please just think about it.’

Y/N stood up with determination. Sherlock was right. She had to burn all of this stuff to finally move on. Together they placed the contents of the box around the bonfire.

Y/N stood back as Sherlock poured the can of petrol over the bonfire. He asked.

‘One more thing. Do you have that picture with you?’

She grabbed it out of her bag as an answer and showed it to him.

‘I thought you would', he stated.

She placed the picture in the centre of the bonfire.

They walked back a safer distance from it and Sherlock got a box of matches from his pocket. He lit one up and handed it to Y/N. He could see that she was having trouble actually lighting the bonfire. He reached out and held her hand to comfort her. Y/N greatly appreciated that. She took the final step and with her other hand, threw the match into the bonfire.

The bonfire went up in ablaze. It was oddly beautiful watching the embers rise up into the sky. Standing there in hand in hand with Sherlock, she felt the weight that had been on her shoulders for months slowly lift off. The whole experience was cathartic.

Out of the blue, they heard the distant sound of alarms ringing from back at the house. Y/N looked to Sherlock for answers. He just told her to:

‘RUN!’

They sprinted, holding onto each other, seemingly heading towards a gate at the end of a stone wall surrounding the estate.

‘Sherlock! What’s going on?’

Sherlock tried his best to explain as they were running.

‘Technically I did break into this house. But it’s my brother's so it should be fine. There should be a cab waiting just outside this gate.’

‘Oh my god!’, she exclaimed worrying about the consequences to come for their actions.

When they had reached the road outside the gate, they stopped to catch their breath. Then they looked at each other and burst into laughter.

She hadn’t laughed that like in months. And it was all thanks to Sherlock.

-

#sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock fic #sherlock holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock imagines #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock au #sherlock x john #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock #john watson #john watson x reader #sherlock and john

[disgruntledspacedad]

Aftershocks (1/5)

The Better Love Series 

A sequel to The Rules of Engagement 

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse. 

summary: That bomb fucked you up a little more than you thought. h/c, fluff.

words: 1.5k 

warnings: 18+ - canon typical violence, angst, hospital stuff. This one is mild for me.

a/n: unbeta’d. Gif by @javier-pena, banner by @cassandras-nest​, title card by yours truly.Takes place hours after ROE leaves off. This won’t make a lot of sense unless you’ve read Rules first.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five 

MASTERLIST 

A deep, throbbing ache in your back drags you back to the land of the living.

Ugh. 

You rub the crust from your eyes and wiggle your toes with the awkward effort that comes from heavy sleep. It’s late afternoon, the sun sinking low in the sky, falling in gentle patches over the crumpled comforter. Reality comes back to you in slow, muzzy chunks. 

You’re lying in Peña’s bed. He’d ridden you hard, then tucked you in afterward, snuggled comfortably beside you while you’d drifted off. 

The lazy smile dies on your lips as you remember just why Javier Peña had felt the need to throw you against the wall and fuck you like there was no tomorrow.

Your apartment. A blazing fireball. Smoke and ash and rubble. Emilio’s broken body. 

You choke back a sob. 

Javi.

Your chest throbs as you remember how he’d looked at you, eyes shining and desperate. 

“I thought I’d lost you.” 

How he’d held you close, tucking you gently under his chin as if you were the most precious thing in the world. Wild sex in the hallway, gentle sex in his bed. Snuggling up together afterward. His soft confession, “I’m all in, Ears, if that’s okay with you.”

Your brain spins dizzily in an attempt to process it all. Despite all of the pain, fear, drama, and uncertainty of the past 12 hours, you can’t help feeling a profound sense of relief. Sure, you’ve lost everything you’ve ever owned, but at least you have Javi. 

That thought still boggles your mind. 

You roll over, kicking your feet to untangle them from the sheets. Javi’s side of the bed is long cold. Sighing, you haul yourself up on your elbow, surprised when you have to catch your breath to do so. 

God, you’re more sore than you thought you’d be. 

Your heart races as you stand, and you press your hand to your breast bone, feeling a little woozy. Gray spots swim in your vision, and you blink hard, forcing them away. You hadn’t realized you’d stood up so fast.

Slowly, you patter naked into the hallway, following the sound of Javi’s voice. He’s in the kitchen with his back turned to you, speaking lowly into the telephone. He’s still shirtless. 

You crack a grin at the memory. 

Now that you’re standing up, you’re starting to feel a little more stable. Thoughts are still fuzzy and distant, and your pulse thrums skittish in your ears, but at least you’re not going to pass out. Your chest feels weird, though, like your lungs have been scraped raw, and taking a deep breath sets something throbbing deep in your back. Your head aches like a bitch, too. 

Fuck Pablo Escobar and his fucking bombs. 

You snatch Javi’s green shirt off the kitchen counter, still lying half-folded where you’d dropped it this morning. Javi raises his brows at you, and you shoot him a wink as you slip into it. He’s still on the phone, talking to Messina, you think, but his eyes follow you darkly as you make your way to his bathroom in search of some pain medicine.

Climbing onto the toilet to peruse through Javi’s bathroom cabinet feels like more effort than it really ought to be. Again, your heart speeds, and you double over, suddenly panting for air. 

A minute or so later, Javi finds you sitting on the toilet lid with your head in your hands. 

“Hey,” he says, pausing as he notices your position. He drops to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his. “What’s wrong?” His voice is laced with concern. 

You look up at him. He’s all dark eyes and somber expression, watching you warily with a deeply furrowed brow. “Just a little dizzy,” you admit, hating to see him worry over you. “I was looking for a tylenol. My back is killing me.”

Javi blinks, as if the thought of keeping medicine in a medicine cabinet has never occurred to him. 

“I can find you something,” he says, and somehow, you just know that means he’ll be sneaking across the landing to borrow from Connie’s stash. “But baby, are you sure I don’t need to take you to the hospital? You look a little pale.”

“I’m sure, Javi,” you answer firmly. The thought of getting dressed and leaving the apartment is absolutely abhorrent right now - you are still bone weary. You decide to offer him a compromise. “If it really bothers you, I’ll see somebody tomorrow after work.” 

Javi shakes his head. “You’re not going in tomorrow, babe,” he says slowly. “I already talked to Stechner.” There’s a little bit of hesitation in his tone, like he’s wary of how you’ll react. “Once word got around about the bomb, everybody was looking for you. I didn’t mean to butt in, but I really didn’t want to wake you, either.” He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, almost apologetically.

In a different situation, you think you might be annoyed by his interference. But Javi is staring at you with those solemn, worried eyes, one errant curl falling across his brow, and you find that any frustration you feel is buried deep beneath exhaustion and maybe even a little gratitude. “Guess I’ll let it slide,” you tell him, cracking a small smile. “This time.”

He answers you with a tiny breath of relief and a quirk of his lips. “Good.” One long thumb massages your knuckles absently. “He’s put you on leave for the rest of the week. Says get some rest and maybe some therapy, and he’ll see you on Monday to talk logistics.”

You snort. “Asshole.”

Javi’s expression is a little darker as he agrees. “So,” he says, leaning back on his heels to pin you with an intense stare. “Doctor tomorrow?”

“Doctor tomorrow,” you promise, allowing him to pull you to your feet. “Tylenol now.”

“Bossy,” he complains, reaching up to stroke your cheek like he just can’t help touching you at every opportunity.

“Assertive,” you’re quick to correct, swallowing back a shiver. All of this soft, sweet caressing is very new.

Javi grins, a gentle, fond expression that crinkles his eyes and makes him look years younger. “Have I mentioned how good you look in my shirt?” he murmurs, meeting your lips for a slow, deep kiss that steals your breath. One hand roams up to gently cup your breast. 

“You don’t have to,” you answer smugly, catching that wandering hand in a firm grip. Your heart is racing again, but for all of the wrong reasons. “Now, go raid Murphy’s medicine cabinet for me, please.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughs, shaking his head at the fact that you know him so well.

That woozy feeling redoubles just as soon as Javi shuts the door behind him. You bite your lip, counting back the hours since you’ve had anything to drink besides coffee. Even that had been a long time ago. Probably you’re just dehydrated.

You make your way to the kitchen, feeling numb and detached as you shuffle through the cabinets. Javi has a startling lack of normal drink wear, but you manage to find a nice set of crystal tumblers lurking above the sink. 

Typical.

Again, climbing requires an alarming amount of effort, and something uncoils painfully in your chest as you reach over your head for a glass. You flinch, and three of the tumblers go flying, shattering on the floor with a horrendous crash.

Startled and off-balanced, you stumble to your hands and knees, heedless of the glass shards that are digging into your bare skin. Your vision is graying at the edges again, and you can’t fucking breathe. 

“What the fuck?” Javi’s voice is hard as he slams open the front door. “Babe?”

“Sorry,” you wheeze with the very last of the air that’s left in your lungs. Panic sets in, your body responding to the acute lack of oxygen in the only way it knows how. “I was -”

Speaking sets you coughing, and suddenly, you’re coughing so hard that you can’t stop, great, wrenching spasms that send pain racketing through your entire body.

Javi drops the bottle of pills he’s holding. They rattle against the floor. “Ridiculous woman,” he grits between clenched teeth, reaching down to haul you to his chest. You know he doesn’t mean it. “You are not fine.”

You press your fingers to your lips, one last rasping cough ripping its way out of your throat. When you pull them away, they are covered in tiny spots of blood.

Javi freezes as he sees it. “Jesus Christ.” 

Your teeth are chattering, your entire body shaking. “I’m -”

“Goddammit, if you tell me you’re fine one more fucking time, Ears,” Javi growls, allowing the threat to trail off.

You shake your head. “I’m not,” you manage. Everything hurts, and words are difficult right now. Your throat is raw, and you still don’t have enough air. “I’m sorry. I was, but now I’m not.”

“Come on,” Javi’s voice is terse, worried. You have the foresight to grab his sweats from the counter before he sweeps you off your feet. “We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

♠

notes/confessions:

I promise, promise, promise, this is going to turn into fluff. Please don’t kill me!

Originally, Aftershocks was going to be a huge one-shot, but nah. I thought I’d try smaller chapters for once (read: chaotic jay cannot plan shit to save her life). 

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from my tags!

Tags: @jedi-mando, @perropascal, @aerolanya, @pikemoreno, @bitchin-beskar, @mostly-megan, @huliabitch, @starsandmando, @starlight-starwrites​, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh

#javier peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #narcos #pedro pascal #narcos netflix #pedro fanficiton #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #better love #aftershocks

[sparklingchan]

Chapter 3|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 3.3k+

Warnings : A fight scene but it’s just practice XD

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

Description: An unexpected incident brings you closer to Felix, but there’s one person who’s not very excited about this blossoming friendship. 

A/N : Things start getting interesting from here *insert the moon face emoji* Enjoy!

SERIES MASTERLIST ||  Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!

"A near miss, y/n."  Felix whispers in his deep, raspy voice sending shivers  through your entire body.

You blink awkwardly at him for a few seconds before he gets off of you and offers you his hand to help you stand up.

You hear the Aphrodite girls whispering behind you, giggling.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." Your eyes are looking everywhere but at Felix, the heat from your cheeks making your whole face warm.

"It's alright, " he chuckles, "Are you hurt anywhere?" His freckles look even more gorgeous up close, his toothy smiles reminds you of bright skies and beaches and picnics and fresh fruits. And when the warm afternoon sunlight falls on his eyes, his brown orbs turn into a gentler shade of golden. Breathtaking.

"You're beautiful." You blurt out, involuntarily,  loud and clear so everyone hears you. A loud chorus of gasps run throughout the dining hall.

And you decide to run away back to your cabin with the little dignity you had left of yourself.

And there you are, once again thinking back to yesterday's events while polishing your precious arrow heads as you sit on the Zeus cabin's verandah.

You sigh, "It was the Aphrodite effect, right? It has to be!"

You've been pep talking to yourself all morning long, making up excuses for the way you behaved yesterday. You're too embarrassed to face your friends or the other people at camp.

"I mean he is good looking, but why did I say it out loud. Does he have powers? Like that of Hyunjin? Maybe he can charmspeak. Yes! That's probably it!" You mutter to yourself.

(a/n: Charmspeak is a rare type of hypnotic ability that Aphrodite kids possess)

Or perhaps he'd induced a new sense of adoration in you, like how Aphrodite kids usually can. But then again, they cannot actually induce these feelings. They can only manipulate them which means they'd have to exist in the first place.

You put the arrow back into it's case.

"Ugh!" You let out a loud groan, covering your face with your palms.

The image that you'd spent years to portray in front of everyone is all destroyed in the blink of an eye. Now no one's going to respect you as an only child of the Big Three, they're going to see you as a girl who gets smitten easily and not as the headstrong person you always acted like.

All because of that Lee Felix!

(a/n: big three refers to the three major Greek gods namely Poseidon, Zeus and Hades)

You stand up from the floor, not being able to handle the bombardment of thoughts in your mind, and decide that practicing sword fighting is the right thing to now.

So you find yourself making your way from behind the Athena cabin (where you can clearly hear Seungmin and another Athena kid debating over mortal politics) and then through the Jasmine fields that Apollo personally tends to and down the hill to the weapon practice arena.

"Hey, y/n."

Oh no, no no no.

Why is it that when you are trying to avoid a person that exact person is the one who keeps popping up everywhere? Why is it, you tell me, that Lee Felix happens to be in the practice arena just when you arrive there?

The Gods must be having a nice laughter up there, especially your father Zeus.

"H-hey!" You try to reply with fake enthusiasm.

He has his bronze sword in his right hand while he jogs up to you, his messy blonde hair shining like the sun.

"Did you sleep well?"

No, you hadn't.

"Yes, I did." You laugh awkwardly, "Slept wonderfully."

Felix laughs back, eyes hooded with a hint of shyness that hadn't existed till yesterday afternoon.

He tucks his bottom lip in between his teeth, "Hey, um about what you said yesterday-"

"Do you wanna duel with me?"

If you cannot escape him, you might as well divert his attention.

He looks at you like you'd just punched him in the face. His smile threatening to disappear any moment.

And that’s when you realise asking him to duel with you might not have been the brightest ideas, and not to mention how you'd called him beautiful in front a hundred other demigods last afternoon.

"I'd love to!" He replies, with an excited voice, "Swords?"

You open your mouth to reply, but only air slips out so you subtly nod. He doesn't have to know you're a nervous mess that's lowkey about to pass out.

You walk up to the armory and grab the first sword that you lay eyes on. Truth be told, a sword wasn't really the best choice of weapon for you. It's always been a bow and arrow for you. Bows make you feel at control, like you know what you're doing and you'd always been good at archery, without even trying to.

"Do you not have a sword of your own?" Felix asks almost as if reading your mind.

"No, I don't. Actually I'm more of an archer." You admit.

"Ah, of course. I remember how you killed that Cetus in a single shot. I must say, I was very impressed."

Your cheeks heat up at his compliment. It's not like people haven't complimented your archery skills before - they have, in fact they do it all the time yet you wonder why is it so much more meaningful to you when coming from Felix. Has your biggest fear finally come true?

You shake your head mentally, no, it cannot be.

"Thanks. You're not very bad with your sword either."

Felix acknowledges your compliment with a smile. He then stands up straight, the sword in his right and bows gently, a silly smile playing at his lips.

"Oh we're following the courtesies?" You whisper to yourself, copying his actions.

The both of you stand facing each other, a silent understanding flowing between the two of you while you take your dueling positions.

You expect him to attack first but he doesn't; instead he watches you with a smirk, as if trying to make you flustered.

(It was working but you'd rather never say that out loud)

So he attacks first. He aims his sword near your abdomen but you quickly jump to defend yourself, blocking his attack with your sword. The metallic clang of your swords ringing throughout the otherwise quiet arena. He stumbles back, a surprised gasp leaving his lips as your sword brushes swiftly past his neck while he's still catching his breath, barely touching him though. 

Of course, hurting the opponent isn’t the aim here. Disarming them is.

"She's not bad with the sword." He thinks to himself, a little proud.

He then retorts back, swinging his sword right in front of your face, missing by merely an inch.

Your heart does a backflip, both out of excitement and fear.

You don't waste a second, gaining back your balance, thrusting your sword in the space between his arm and abdomen. Your sword clash together as you try to push his sword back with yours, yet this time he resists, putting in all his energy to make you loose your grip on the sword.

And it seems to have worked because the next moment, he sees you losing your strength, your face scrunched in concentration as you let out a few grunts. He takes a single step towards you while applying more force on your sword with his, and there goes your sword, falling onto the ground gracefully, like a martyred soldier.

"Do you accept defeat, miss y/n?" Felix teases through laboured breaths and you only have enough energy to roll your eyes at him, hitting his arm in response.

Felix passes you back your sword, as he walks over to the bench and slumps down.

Your body is too tired to worry about Felix bringing up yesterday's incident, so you follow him and sit by his side. Neither of you say anything, your fanning breaths and thumping hearts and the buzzing of insects are the only sounds in the arena. You'd never experienced this kind of peacefulness in the camp before, at least not unless you were by yourself.

When you recover from your momentary exhaustion, you look over at Felix and softly begin, "I was wondering..."

He glances at you with a smile.

Does he ever stop smiling?

"I was wondering...since Hyunjin already told you about the game, would you like to be my partner for the capture the flag game next week? I usually go with Minho but he's a referee this time." You say.

He is taken aback for a second - mostly because he'd never thought someone as cool as you would ask him to be your partner. Team games are very important in camps and its important  to make sure that the teammates do not turn out to be poor players. It somehow makes Felix very happy that you'd have such faith in him despite having known him for only two days.

He nods, "I'd be honored to do that."

Your heart beats furiously as you suck in a deep breath, "It's a deal then."

Gosh y/n, what has gotten into you!

*

You decide to take the longer route back.

Felix left early after finishing the duel so you spent the next hour practicing Archery alone before deciding to head back to your cabin.

Your thoughts are all over the place as it is, but the quietness of the woods help you to sort things out with yourself. You feel rather uncomfortable, experiencing emotions that you'd not felt in a long time, past insecurities and memories fighting their way back from the dungeons you'd locked them up in. This was ridiculous, wasn't it? How Felix comes out of nowhere and just flips everything up?

The sun rays fall on you from the gaps between the tree branches and as you listen to the birds chirp around you, you start to slowly hum to their tune.

"Wow, who hurt you, y/n?" A male voice calls you from behind, the sound of leaves getting crushed under a pair of hooves indicate the approaching entity.

"No one hurt me, Eden."

Eden is still as handsome as ever, you wonder to yourself everytime you return to the camp, with a sturdy upper body and beautiful grey eyes and two strong goat limbs instead of normal human legs, yet he's so much more alluring than any satyr you'd ever seen. (Then again, maybe you're just biased because he’s also your childhood friend) He flashes you a handsome smile and you immediately pray to the gods that he doesn't see you blush.

(a/n: Satyrs, also known as Fauns by Romans, are creatures with the upper body of a man and the lower body of a goat as well as goat horns, and the pointed ears of a goat. )

"What's up." He stands in front of you and kisses you softly on the head, "I had gone out yesterday so I couldn't come see you. Hope you didn't miss me too much."

You hit his chest, "You're so full of yourself, goat-boy." You continue walking back towards your cabin, Eden following right behind.

"Woahh. Using Minho's nicknames now, are we?" He snickers, "One of the kids told me that you had a little hormonal outburst last afternoon?"

An embarrassed sigh leaves you lips. The camp kids really couldn't miss out on one day of gossip now could they?

"I don't wanna talk about it." You mutter as yesterday's events flash into your mind. Felix, his face, his voice and your words. Oh God.

"Hey, no judgment here, okay? If you like the new Aphrodite boy then I support you. Do you want me to play wingman?"

You turn around and smack his chest once again. "I do not like him." Yet.

"Okay, okay. I get it." His tone falls serious, "Anyway  I heard about Poseidon's trident. It scared me, I won't lie. Something as powerful as that trident has never been forged in a millennia. And I can only imagine how powerful one has to be steal it. Are you sure only nine demigods are enough to find it?"

"It has to be, Eden." You say, "We don't have too many options. It's either this or we all drown and die or get killed by a monster. I'd like to choose the former."

Eden nods at your words, patting your head encouragingly.

You are about to speak up again when your eyes fall on a woman sitting on a log of wood just a few meters ahead of you.

"Is that one of the Aphrodite girls?" You whisper to Eden, only for him to shake his head in response.

The woman sits with her back facing you, a beautiful white dress adorning her small skinny frame and her brown hair tied in a tidy floral braid. Either the woman is a daughter of Aphrodite's or a Nymph, you conclude.

Without thinking much, you approach her, "Um, hello? May I know who you are?"

A startled gasp escapes your mouth when the woman turns around and looks at you with a very familiar smile playing at her lips - you'd grown up seeing that smile on Hyunjin and very recently on Felix. It's the very same smile, a Xerox copy of it.

"Aphrodite?" You mutter and she nods in response.

"Hello, y/n. Mind if I have a word with you?"

*

"So you were out with y/n? Dueling?" Changbin asks for the umpteenth time this morning, his usually playful eyes now focused seriously on Felix's body language.

"Yes, Changbin," Felix groans, lying flat on his fluffy bed, "Can you stop making a big deal out of it?"

Chan chuckles at the conversation, his eyes though focused on the book in front of him but his ears are on his two best friends' conversation. Chan knew Changbin wasn't the kind to trust people easily, especially Zeus' children so it's not surprising of him to be suspicious about you but what does come as a surprise to Chan is how oddly giggly Felix has been since last afternoon. After that awkward encounter with you. Could it be that Felix..?

"Do you like Zeus' daughter?" Changbin asks even before Chan can finish his line of  thought.

Felix's eyes widen, but the tips of his ears are bright red, "Dude I just met her. Can you not act like a love guru out of the blue?"

"Hey, you're the love expert here. Literally. So, I should be expecting a better answer from you, no?"

"No, I do not like her. Okay?" Felix groans, "But she did ask me to be her partner for the game next week and I'm telling you beforehand Seo Changbin, do not say or assume anything that would make her uncomfortable. "

The warning comes off as rather cute to Chan since he’s always seen the Aphrodite kid as his little brother while Changbin finds his words a tad bit alarming. A Zeus kid is not to be trusted this easily.

"Fine." Changbin mutters, his lips pressing into a thoughtful line, "But just be careful because  I - "

"Don't trust the Children of Zeus easily, yeah we know. Come on, Bin. Let him have some fun and make new friends. You should do it, too. We're not on our own anymore." Chan pipes in to save Felix this time and Felix secretly sends a thankful wink to him in return.

"Okay, okay." Changbin gives in.

The door to Felix's room creaks ever so slightly and the three of them turn their heads in anticipation of who it might be.

"Hey. Sorry to disturb you guys but we're being called for dinner." Hyunjin says, still getting used to having three new demigods around in the camp.

Chan closes his book, "Oh, come on, Hyunjin. You're not disturbing us. Come on in."

Felix gets up to greet his half brother with a fist bump and when he stands beside Hyunjin, the two older guys find it hilarious how terribly small he looks. Almost like Hyunjin were his father.

Felix almost as if reads their minds and narrows their eyes at them, "Dinner is ready guys. Can we move?"

"Shortie." Hyunjn whispers incoherently and makes a run towards the door.

"Hey, come back here you piece of -" Felix dashes right after him.

Changbin and Chan chuckle at their tactics, a foreign feeling of calmness settling between them. "This feels like home, Chan. We're finally home." Changbin admits, almost emotionally.

"Yes, Bin." Chan adds, "And I hope we never have to leave again."

*

"Aphrodite said what now?"

You sigh, running your index finger mindlessly along the lines of the wooden dinner table.

"She wants us to take the new demigods with us to find Poseidon's trident. Especially Felix." You look at your friends, "And she asked me to specifically visit the island of Sicily when we go on the quest. I asked her why but she said she doesn't know it herself."

Hyunjin grunts, almost irritated, "Y/n, I don't know how much you can trust my mother. She's known to cause drama for her own entertainment. "

Well, you do agree with what Hyunjin says but you cannot deny that Aphrodite didn't seem like she was purposely creating drama this time.

"Listen, y/n, you have to go to The island of Sicily. It will lead you to the trident, trust me." She whispers as if she is afraid of someone overhearing your conversation, "Take Felix with you. You'll need him. He'll need you."

You shudder at the memory of her unusually spooky tone.

"What do you think, dad?" Jisung turns to Apollo who has ever so naturally claimed a spot at your usual dinner table tonight, "Do you think we should let new demigods on a quest?"

"I don't think Aphrodite is playing this time. We should listen to her." He taps his finger against his chin, deep in thought, "We need as many people as we can get."

"Well, yeah. That makes sense." Minho says and you nod, "Yeah, Eden can talk to the three boys. He's always been good at all that."

The lack of protests from your friends indicate their approval and after talking about the quest for a few more minutes, Apollo leaves your table.

"So," Jisung chimes in as soon as his father is out of sight, "Our Y/n has been dueling with Lee Felix?"

You let out an exasperated growl, "Oh God, Jisung! It was just today!"

Jisung snickers and sticks out his tongue, rendering your words useless. Minho raises an eyebrow at your banter while the other boys giggle, "Eden tells me you are already smitten."

Eden! God, that Eden, you mentally vow to punch that smirk off of Eden's face the next time you see him. Why does he keep pushing ridiculous ideas into other people's head!

"I'm not smitten -"

"Who are you talking about?"

Your blood runs dry.

Please tell me Felix didn't just overhear this one conversation which includes me having a crush on him.

"Hey, Lix." Hyunjin laughs, "Took you three long enough to get here  I went to your room like an hour ago."

Felix rubs the back of his neck, guilty, "Changbin spilled water on my favorite sweatshirt. "

A short guy - probably Changbin - slaps Felix's back. "Ouch!"

"Liar!" Felix rolls his eyes, turning to speak with you, "Anyway, y/n, I'm assuming you're the only to not have met my brothers yet."

"Yeah, i think so." You reply with a small smile.

Felix pats the back of the two boys on his right and left respectively. "Chan, Changbin, meet y/n, she's Zeus' daughter and y/n, meet Chan, he's Poseidon's son and Changbin - Ares' son."

Oh wow that is a new combination.

The guy introduced as Chan has a kind smile and messy brown hair while the Changbin dude has jet black hair and very intimidating eyes. He looks up and down your form, as if checking whether you were worth being Felix's friend - vibe checking, if you may.

"Hi, I'm y/n."

With the introductions done and dinner served, your group of old and new friends enjoy this peaceful evening together. The loud laughs and sassy remarks and friendly banters make you feel somewhat calm, but a part of you knows this isn't for long.

It’s like the calm before the storm.

"So, are we meeting for practice tomorrow too?" Felix whispers into your ears when he finds the others too indulged in conversation.

Your heart picks up its pace but you manage to nod with pink cheeks, "Yes. Same time as today."

A few seats away from you, Changbin overhears your conversation and decides that he doesn't really like you.

*

Taglist: @chogiwow​@ctrlaltfangirl​@blueprint-han​@whattaweeb​@bigskzz​@judewalid​@kpopssuregi​@crispy-chan​@cookielino​@rebelspy​@persassystilinski@stayctday​@charlieshelves​

Note: Please DM or send an ask if you wish to be added to the taglist!

#skz #stray kids #skz felix #stray kids felix #skz au #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz angst #skz fluff #skz felix au #stray kids au #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids fantasy #skz x reader #skz felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz lee felix #lee felix #skz ff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz x y/n #kpop au #kpop ff #skz kpop #skz fantasy au #stormbringer

[onceuponadisembo]

Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: 王室教師ハイネ | Oushitsu Kyoushi Haine | The Royal Tutor (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Viktor von Granzreich & Heine Wittgenstein, Viktor von Granzreich/Heine Wittgenstein Characters: Viktor von Granzreich, Heine Wittgenstein Additional Tags: Drinking, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Bad Humor, Happy Ending, Excessive Hand-Holding, anime movie canon, Staying Up Too Late, viktor just wants to spend more time teasing heine for his height, unamused heine, heine's anime past, a little bit shippy, Queerplatonic Relationships

Summary: 

Viktor invites Heine to his study for wine, makes as many bad jokes as he can, and then asks to dance with him. Set after the ball that happens at the end of the anime movie.

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

I'm only up to Volume 9 of the manga right now and I don't know Heine's past, so although the manga will have some influence on some parts of the story, this fic is set in the canon of the anime, and will include references to Heine's and Viktor's past based on what was shown in the anime.

I'm also putting together a (very short, somewhat shippy) playlist for this fic so if you're into that sort of thing, here it is.

FFN link.

Read the first part under the cut

In the king's study, the bottle of Niedergranzreich white wine glittered in the lamplight.

There had been drinks at the ball. The usual wine and beer, which Heine had politely declined, but there was also something from Romano – a honeyed concoction with sharp-smelling spices and an even sharper burn as it slipped down his throat. When Viktor proposed a toast with the king of Romano, Heine had found himself with a glass in hand. He was then handed another at more than a few points in the evening – and at least one of them by Viktor himself. Heine did not quite remember how many cries of Prost! to the two kingdoms there had been, and now he sat, still in his evening suit, at his usual spot by the desk, swirling yet another glass with Viktor and feeling the wine more than usual.

It was already getting late.

He was not worried; tomorrow was his rest day. But there are no breaks for a king – although this one did not seem to notice the time at all. Heine had been surprised when Viktor invited him here tonight, thinking that perhaps the king wanted a report so soon after the princes' assignment had been completed. He had been equally surprised when he saw the bottle.

"More wine?" he chided. "Are you sure?"

Viktor was already pouring the first glass. "You can always have something else if you won't join me," he had said, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "I'll send for it. Milk would be much more… age appropriate. Or what do you think?"

Heine harrumphed and took a glass.

It seemed that they were here for no reason at all. Tomorrow – or the day after – they would talk about how the princes had done, and what that could mean for the future of the Granzreich and Romano kingdoms. And although they were no longer young, nor as free with their time as they had been way back then, Heine did not mind indulging the king. Viktor may request the strangest things, but it was never without sound reason. There is always a first time for everything, though, because Heine was now starting to suspect that Viktor, too, had had more than a few at the ball.

-:-

"Eins dropped by, you know," said Viktor not long after they had clinked their glasses. "After the song."

"Oh?" said Heine, pausing as he lifted his glass. "I did not see him."

Chin in hand, Viktor hummed a sigh. "He didn't stay long. You know how children are when they grow up."

They sat in silence for a while. They had both grown up a long time ago, and far too quickly. There was still so much more to be done.

Viktor drained his glass and straightened up with a toss of his head, as if the silence were a blanket he was trying to shrug from his shoulders. "Well!" he chirped, refilling his glass. "I am glad that my sons are growing so well under your care. Shall I…?" He gestured the bottle towards Heine.

The tutor glanced into his glass. "Thank you, but I am barely halfway through."

"Take your time." Viktor settled back in his chair. "Speaking of my sons, I am already in talks with King Romano to arrange a visit to his kingdom. It is my hope that we can continue to strengthen our relationship as allies."

"And mine as well," murmured Heine. It could not be easy, as a young prince of Romano, to shoulder the high expectations of one's position while growing into one's own person. He thought of Prince Ivan, the eldest twin, who could never do enough in his father's eyes as well as his own; and of Prince Eugene, overlooked in favour of his brother and who, like his brother, expressed a disdain for "forever benchwarmer princes" at the start of their visit. The fact that the younger prince had done so even though, if all were to go according to plan, he himself would not be expected to ascend the throne, could explain why Prince Eugene had not seemed to see the point in trying for anything. The Granzreich princes could prove to be a good influence on the Romanos, if only they could spend some more time together.

A chuckle from Viktor interrupted Heine's thoughts. "What is funny?" he asked the king, his sombre musings quickly dissipating.

"I was just wondering if you also taught the princes to dance at the ball."

"Goodness, no."

"Ah. I thought so. Teaching them to sing would have been enough of a handful."

"Yes, but I cannot tell you how much I came to wish that I had blocked out a few hours, at least, to revise the basics together with them. I did not anticipate how insistent they would be." Heine took a fortifying drink from his glass. "Do you know how terrifying it is to be led around the floor by partners who do not quite know what they are doing? I was even lifted once. I was in the air."

Viktor chuckled even more. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. I did love seeing all of you getting along so well."

"You were watching us?"

"I was watching you."

What a strange way of putting it. Heine was not sure he had heard Viktor correctly. Perhaps he should ask him repeat that, to check that he had not misheard him.

He sipped some more wine and held out his glass. "Could you top me up, please?"

-:-

"There's something I want to show you," said Viktor as he led Heine over to the lounge area. On the low table sat a strange shape, which Heine thought he recognised when Viktor removed the sheet that lay over it.

"My word," murmured Heine, venturing closer to inspect the instrument and the brassy sheen of its parts. "Is this… a phonograph?"

"Do you like it?" smiled Viktor, barely containing his delight. "It was a gift. Go on, give it a try."

"What does it play?"

"Wind it up and see for yourself."

Soon the hazy melody of a waltz undulated about the room and Heine watched Viktor hum along, fingers dancing in time to the music.

"What a tremendous invention," said Heine when the song neared its end. "It seems as if I were right in front of the orchestra."

"Yes, and listen to this." Viktor stopped the machine and switched out the cylinder. When it started up again, it sang out in a long, yearning trill.

Heine put down his wine. "This song!"

"Yes?" said Viktor, a twinkle in his eye.

The melody was haunting and the libretto solemn – far too serious to have been fully-appreciated the first time Heine had heard it. Perched next to Viktor, in oversized borrowed clothes, Heine had been certain they would be spotted among the crowded back seats. Once the show was over and he could finally relax, they spent the evening falling over each other as they butchered the most dramatic of the songs, missing the high notes and substituting their own lyrics.

"Why Viktor, had I not known any better, I would have thought that you had impeccable taste."

Viktor laughed – the same laugh from the alleyway behind the Wienner state opera house nearly thirty years ago.

-:-

Back at the desk, they talked of important things.

The latest in the national opera:

"No, don't tell me. I haven't seen it yet."

The moral discrepancies in classic childhood fables:

"I can't explain that to you, Viktor, I did not write it."

Whether or not it was possible to brew wine from carrots and bell peppers:

"I find it highly worrisome that a child would know so much about winemaking."

The bottle of wine slowly emptied out.

-:-

"And another thing," said Viktor who, at some point in the night, had ended up sprawled out next to Heine. They were down to the last few glasses, and Heine was propping himself up against the cushioned arm of the settee, trying hard to maintain a slight semblance of propriety.

"Why are we always drinking this?" Viktor squinted at his glass of wine, holding it up to the light. "It's the same wine every time ever since God knows when, always wine white- I mean white wine- from Niedergrr- Niederglan-zish."

Heine nearly slipped off the arm. Goodness gracious. Where was this coming from?

"But isn't it… isn't this your favourite?" he faltered, his head foggy. "You don't like it?"

Viktor made a sound that resembled both a hiccough and a splutter. Or perhaps it was a laugh. Heine could not tell at this point. "I do like it, but people get tired of favourites, Herr Professor. Even Lich… Leonhard. Would hesitate at the idea of eating sacher torte for every meal.

"I wouldn't be so sure," muttered Heine. Then, struggling with the plush upholstery, he pulled himself into a slightly less crooked sitting position. "But Viktor, you are being unfair. You were the one who brought this wine. And it was supposed to be my turn."

"Oh, don't worry about that. It's a special occasion."

"You must let me bring the next one." Heine racked his brains for all the good wines he had ever tried or heard of, but the memories seemed to have left him for the moment. "We could try… red wine?"

"Hmm?" Viktor tilted his head.

"From… Obergranzreich?"

"Interesting proposal," said Viktor, "considering their viticulture is not what it used to be."

"Hintergranzreich, then."

Viktor snorted. "You are making things up."

"And you were making a fuss over something that could have been so easily resolved," retorted Heine. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? If I had known, I would have looked around town and found something new, or checked with the chefs for recommendations – anything, if only you had asked."

Viktor leaned back to look at the tutor and smiled fondly. "That's just like you. I know I can always rely on you. You're a good friend, Heine."

Heine took a sip from his glass. "Though you tend to ask for the most reckless things," he said.

That was when Viktor asked him to dance.

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

It's been almost exactly one year since I first watched The Royal Tutor, and I'm super excited to get this out. I already have the rest of this written out, but because it’s such a pain to upload fics to Tumblr, I’ll be uploading the rest of the chapters to AO3, and I’ll be putting just the link on Tumblr. I really want to make sure I check each chapter thoroughly, so I might take a few days to upload the next one. In the meantime - comments are appreciated and I'll love you forever.

#the royal tutor #oushitsu kyoushi haine #oushitsu kyoushi heine #heine wittgenstein #haine wittgenstein #viktor von granzreich #viktor von glanzreich #viktor von grannzreich #victor von glanzreich #victor von granzreich #victor von grannzreich #heine x viktor #write by me #fanfiction

[ikeromantic]

Alarm Bells

A Mitsuhide Akechi story. This scene occurs toward the beginning of Ch. 8. Approx 1600 words, fluff and angst.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Intended Consequences

The days passed in a blur. Long stretches of boredom, punctuated by brutality and the occasional message from Kyubei. Mitsuhide endured one and looked forward to the other. He passed along requests to his vassal and he waited. 

His cheek still felt warm where she’d kissed him. 

In the dark hours, his mind wandered to fantasy. What life could be, had he chosen another path. His little mouse, a wife. Children. The worries of a warlord instead of those that weighed down an assassin and spy. It was a tempting dream. He could not help but plot what it would take to reach such a life, no matter how long the odds of success. Those thoughts got him through the worst nights, a distraction from his hunger and pain.

That was why, when Kyubei delivered his next message, Mitsuhide’s reply included a special request. A bellflower hairpin that once belonged to his mother. A sentimental thing, its only use to remind him of his family. It was among his meager possessions in Azuchi. And now it would serve as a promise.

He was still thinking about what that promise meant when the corridor lit up with the glow of a solitary candle. Footsteps hurried closer. Mitsuhide shook himself and stood, ready for this expected visitor.

A familiar figure stopped in front of his cell. Even in the dim light, it was impossible to miss the fine cut of his clothes, the costly embroidery, and the shine of gold. “It’s been some time, Lord Mitsuhide.” The man’s gaze took in Mitsuhide’s sorry state, lips quirking in an amused sneer.

Mitsuhide resisted the urge to smooth his stained, torn clothing. He simply nodded. “It has. I’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

“Am I to understand you’ve been expecting me?” His eyebrows rose in obvious surprise or perhaps, disbelief.

It was a wonder, Mitsuhide thought, that this fool survived so long as a spy when he couldn’t conceal his emotions. Though it could simply be that he did not see a need. This was a precarious place to be. Captured, his false allies might decide he wasn’t worth a rescue, and try to kill him instead. In that case, he was in a poor position to fight back. Not helpless . . . but far from ideal. It was his task now to prove he still had his uses. 

Mitsuhide smiled his crescent moon grin. “Of course. After all, it was you and your lord that conspired to put me in this dungeon.” He shrugged as if this was not important. “I’m sure your goal was to convince Nobunaga that I betrayed him to Kennyo. Leaving me few options - death, life as a fugitive or . . . service to your lord. And with the additional benefit of drawing attention away from my true purpose.” He sketched out their plot in language as simple as they were.

Fear flashed in the spies’ eyes. “H-how did you know?”

The only answer he received was a wider smile. Mitsuhide was not a man to reveal his secrets, especially not to fools.

“Well.” The man cleared his throat. “Now you know what will happen to you if you displease my lord.” 

“There was no need to waste the effort on my behalf.” 

As if reading from a badly written script, the spy replied. “You lingered too long with the Oda forces. Now there is no place for you here. Now it is time to prove your loyalty to his cause.” He tried to look threatening but the hard expression sat uneasily on his features.

“I have every intention of doing so.” Mitsuhide added a slight bow, gracious in his defeat.

The man fished a key from his pocket and threw it onto the ground in front of the cell, barely in reach. “Find your own way out.”

Mitsuhide knelt and picked up the key. “Your kindness is appreciated.”

“I will be returning ahead of you to my lord’s side. You may find us in -”

“Kyoto.” The silver-haired warlord stood, key in hand. His flat expression was unreadable, beyond a hint of distaste in the twist of his lips.

The spy flushed, his eyes going wide. “H-how did you know?”

“Dearest me,” chuckled Mitsuhide. “Did I get it right? I was guessing, of course.”

He took a step back from the cell. The candle flame danced along the walls and bars in his shaking hand. “I’ve heard rumors you’re some kind of demon. A satori. A kitsune.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not, are you?” He found Mitsuhide’s gaze and after a long moment of silence, turned away, afraid of what he saw there.

“Fear not,” Mitsuhide’s silken voice took on a darker tone. “Any powers I might possess will be used for the sole benefit of our lord.”

The man nodded but didn’t look back at the imprisoned warlord. “I will see you in Kyoto,” he said hoarsely. He practically ran for the exit, holding to only the barest shreds of dignity. 

A grown man afraid of campfire tales, Mitsuhide thought. Superstition lived in the hearts and minds of most, but some made it too easy a tool. 

He waited several breaths to make sure the spy was gone, and then unlocked his cell. His body ached from the long imprisonment, and his injuries were agonizing as he forced his arms and legs to work. This would be a long journey in so many ways. 

When Mitsuhide reached the door, he opened it as if he had every right to walk out of that place. Furtiveness would attract the eye, after all. He stepped out into a light rain. The cold prickled his skin. The drops of water slid down his face. He looked up and drank in the sight of a dark sky roiled with clouds. It was beautiful. Despite the need to hurry, he could only stand there for several heartbeats.

When he roused himself to move, Kyubei was waiting in an alley between two storage buildings. The sight of his vassal, still wearing a guard disguise, filled Mitsuhide with a sense of gratitude. There were few people in this world that could be counted on, but Kyubei was always one of them. 

“This way, my lord. We need to get you ready for your journey,” Kyubei said quietly. His intent gaze took in the state of Mitsuhide’s clothes, his wounds, and general condition. “You won’t make it far looking like a fugitive.”

“Did you bring it?” 

Kyubei nodded and tugged a silver and blue hairpin from his bag, just enough to show the folded edge of the gemstone flower at the top. “I still think it would be best if you let me deliver these. You should be on your way - sooner, not later. My lord.”

“I do not disagree.” Mitsuhide gave his vassal a wry smile. “But some things must be done oneself. If I never see -” he stopped himself. It was not like him to share the interior of his heart with anyone. “She deserves a goodbye from me in person. I am afraid this is one task you cannot do, Kyubei.”

His vassal nodded. “Then we should hurry. Your absence will be noted at the next guard change. We have, perhaps an hour.”

The two of them ducked into a storage building. The middle had been cleared out, and a large wooden tub took up the space. It was full of water. 

Mitsuhide quickly stripped off his filthy clothes while Kyubei filled a bucket from the tub.

“It’s not warmed, my lord. It would have drawn too much attention,” his vassal apologized. Then upended the bucket over Mitushide’s head. 

Wet and shivering, it took several more buckets of water and some determined scrubbing to leave the kitsune warlord looking, and smelling, human again. Satisfied, he dressed and then sat still as Kyubei cleaned and bandaged his wounds.

His vassal worked with deft hands, having treated injuries as bad, and worse, many times before. Kyubei often treated wounded spies, as they could not officially seek treatment. It would reveal their work and that could not be. 

“When I am gone, be cautious Kyubei. Keep your head low, and let the Oda forces do as they please in my manor. I trust there is nothing left for them to find?”

“No, my lord. Not a scrap.”

“Good. I do not want you caught up in this. You are nothing and no one in Azuchi - let it remain that way until my work is done.”

Kyubei glanced up at him, and Mitsuhide was surprised to see pity in his dark eyed gaze. “And then?”

Mitsuhide looked away, refusing to acknowledge what he saw. “After? Then return home. I have arranged for funds to be routed to your family. Wealth that cannot be traced to me. You will be well rewarded.” 

“That is not what I meant, my lord.” His vassal’s tone was reproving. 

“And yet, that is the answer you have. Also,” Mitsuhide stopped, thoughtful. “Please watch her. My little one. See that she is safe until she returns home.”

Kyubei did not reply, forcing Mitsuhide to look at him again. 

“That was an order, not a request.”

“My lord. If you are not able, I will do as you ask. I would have watched over her, regardless.”

Had Mitsuhide been another man, he would have embraced Kyubei. Yet he was only himself, and a kitsune’s affections were cautiously given. Instead, he squeezed his vassal’s hand with his own bandaged one.

Kyubei squeezed back before letting go. He blinked a few times and wiped his face. “Go now, my lord. Quickly.”

The alarm bells began to clang. Mitsuhide’s time was running out.

Next: Bellflower Blues

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #ikemen mitsuhide #Mitsuhide Akechi #otome guys #otome #fanfic #fanfiction

[izzabeean]

Chapter 3 : Numb

SUMMARY

Upon arrival to Oikawa’s apartment you are greeted by someone new.

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader / iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 1,779

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

cw : mentions of alcohol

a/n :  I'm not super satisfied with this chapter and that's why it's taken me so long to post it. But here it is in all its glory.

masterlist

<< prev |  ch . 3  | next >>

“H-- hi,” you stammer, looking to see that you’re at the right apartment to which you are. 

Panic flutters in your stomach as the almost six-foot, dark-haired man’s piercing gaze locks on you. It’s a bit unnerving and intense sending a surge of shivers down your body. If looks could kill, truthfully, you think his could end you. You try to compose yourself, but the nerves continue gnawing at your tongue. The last time you were this speechless around someone was long before you and Ushijima were together, and you couldn’t tell if it was because he was intimidating or just attractive. 

“Yeah?” he mumbles while ruffling his hair.

The greeting is irritable and short, but you suspect by the fact he looked a bit dazed, you most likely woke him up.

You’re not sure what else to say as you continue to shift your gaze between him and the door frame.  So far, your first impression is off to a great start; only uttering a couple of words and barely being able to maintain eye contact. It’s hard for you to even look at the ridiculously attractive stranger for too long or you were scared it would seem like you're staring.

Why have you never seen him around before?

“I’m Y/N, Tōru's friend,” you introduce yourself.“Is he home?”

You feel your cheeks burn up hoping the tall brunette doesn’t notice as he gazes down at you.

Fuck.

He really is good-looking.

“He’s sleeping,” the tanned man replies.

In an attempt to push the conversation further, you sift through several conversation starters that rest in your mind in times like these. 

Maybe ask how he knows Oikawa… That could do it. And... flirt a little.

But the idea of small talk sounds too risky. The embarrassment of Oikawa catching your flirting with his friend begins to sink in and you cannot fathom the teasing he’d punish you with. 

“Alright I can come back later,” you say while grinning before turning to walk away. Clearly regretful of your decision. 

“Do you want to come in?” he asks.

Your heart hammers anxiously loud in your chest from the sentiment and you’re terrified you’ll expose the weak knees you get once looking back at him. But before you can even react, a groan quietly emerges in the background. 

“Iwa-chan, who’s at the door,” Oikawa whines while walking towards the door.

Iwa-chan? you think, eyes tracing back to the said man. You attempt to hold in your laughter at the cute nickname. 

“Y/N,” he replies, inspecting you up and down. Perhaps a bit curious as to what Oikawa is to you-- you did call him by his first name.

“Oh,” Oikawa interjects, stunned upon your presence. He rubs his groggy eyes, making certain you are actually right in front of him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I, um--” you answer, unable to express the real reason. "Did you forget, we're hanging out?” 

You did in fact say you’d hangout today. However, your mind is clouded with wanting to tell Oikawa about your break-up and it's something that needed to be ripped off, like a Band-Aid. Needless to say, you weren't really looking forward to it. 

Oikawa groans in response, clearly unamused, "It's so early."

“Tōru! You called me at 2 AM, that’s early,” you hiss.

“I'm sure that l wasn't the only thing keeping you up late,” he teases with a wink.

You feel your face go hot from embarrassment.  “No, no, not exactly.”

Oikawa blinks. The tone of your voice is firm and serious, something he's never heard from you before. Sure, he’s seen you pissed off about to throw yourself at the person who's dumb enough to fill you with such rage. But this… was different. 

And it scares him. 

"What happened?" Oikawa stiffens.

You look at Iwaizumi who picks up on your nerves and excuses himself from the conversation to start a pot of coffee for the hangover.

The tension twists in the air and emotions of sadness and denial come rushing back. You thought you'd left them behind at your apartment but instead, they were following you, lurking waiting to pounce. And it had, right here in front of Oikawa.

In fact, you couldn’t imagine him giving you solace or comfort in any form. Actually, you’d much rather perish before you expose how heart-broken you really were. After all, it wasn’t like him to worry about you.

You swallow hard as the pressure to say something wells up in your chest, this time feeling the resentment cloud over you. 

"We broke up," you mutter, letting out a fake laugh trying to hold the fact you are visibly upset.

Your body feels frozen as the words leave your lips; saying it just solidifies the events from last night, it feels almost unreal. 

Oikawa opens his mouth to say something, “I'm sorry.” Admittedly, he doesn’t know what else to say.

You force a reassuring smile, “It's fine.”

Oikawa pauses. He didn’t need words to express the desperate look in your eyes, glossed over and absent in a distant daze, as if you were somewhere else. 

"Did he say why?" Oikawa asks.

You rub your arms, realizing you're still on the topic, "No..."

Then it’s silent. 

You weren't sure if you actually even said it out loud because you expected anything else but silence. Honestly, you couldn’t stand it and just wanted that to be the end of this uncomfortable conversation. That was the only thing you needed from Oikawa, things to go back to normal.

“Sorry… I just-” you hold your breath to stop a whimper from escaping. You glance at Oikawa who’s staring at you with a concerned look on his face. “What’s wrong?” 

It’s funny to him that you’re the one asking the question when you were the one dealing with shit. Yet, here you are, still appearing unfazed about your delivery. But he wasn’t fooled by your casually calm appearance. 

He’s not completely blind to how important Ushijima is or was to you. He knows that it probably feels like the end of the world and he knows you probably feel like you're dying-- he's been there before. But he didn't know how to tell you that. 

“Nothing,” he replies. “You wanna come in?”

And you nod in acceptance. 

Once you get inside, the apartment is small and tidy and the smell of musk fills your nose as you breathe easing a bit of the tension in your shoulders. A long exhale escapes your lips once Oikawa closes the door behind you. It felt good to be somewhere else that didn’t seem as haunting.

Following him into the kitchen, you sneak a glance at his friend who is pouring a cup of freshly brewed coffee. You grip on the sleeves of your coat and pause, eyeing up the muscular build in front of you. With all the hysteria, you almost forget about your run-in from earlier. 

Once again, your heart rate begins to speed up in anticipation. And it takes only a second for it to stop upon meeting his gaze and it makes you feel hot.

“Y/N-chan, this is Iwaizumi,” Oikawa smiles.

Iwaizumi? As in Iwaizumi Hajime, from elementary school?

Your face flickers with recognition. 

Then it all comes rushing back to the time when you were eight where another boy in class had stolen your favorite sparkly gel pen. It had taken every ounce of you to muster up the courage to fight for it back as his long arms reached up high making sure it was far enough away from your grasp. 

Give it back -- the words you continued to plead over and over, but the boy wouldn’t comply and continued to tease you while laughing in your face. 

The confrontation stops once Iwaizumi rushes over full of fury to confront the bully who, without any hesitation, shoves the pen back in your hands and walks away muttering how stupid it was under his breath.

It almost felt strange, receiving help from a boy you’ve never talked to before; Iwaizumi had always seemed to keep to himself and barely approached you.  However, you couldn’t bring yourself to utter even a thank you, because before you could he walked away. It was impossible to ignore the regret that formed in your chest watching Iwaizumi go back to his friends. It was even more impossible to ignore it when your parents pulled you out of school to move closer to the city. 

Maybe it was naive to believe, but the pure bliss and gratitude behind the intention really made an impact that couldn’t go unremembered. Even once you got older, he crossed your mind and you’d hoped you would get to meet him again someday.

“Hi,” you blink trying to hide that fact you recognize him so you greet him with a sheepish smile. It would be quite a reach to assume he would say something though. You can’t expect someone you’ve barely spoken to even remember you, so you decided it was best to keep it to yourself. 

But you weren't good at hiding it.

“Do you know each other?” Oikawa asks, noticing the look of familiarity on your face.

Surely, Iwaizumi doesn’t recognize you from all those years ago. You can’t dismiss the breathless insecurity and worry of rejection that brews inside; you couldn’t handle any more surprises. 

As you’re about to shake your head no, Iwaizumi interrupts.

“We went to elementary school together.”

Oikawa’s jaw drops at the news. He turns to you to look for confirmation to which you nod in compliance.

“Elementary school?” he almost yells.

You look back at Iwaizumi who looks like he wants to kill Oikawa.

“Iwa-chan, why didn’t you say something?”

“I just did,” he snaps back.

But Oikawa ignores Iwaizumi’s remark and continues to flourish in the new discovery pulling you both into a side hug on either side of him. “My two best friends together with me! Today’s going great!” He giggles, exiting the room. 

The two of you are left alone and you can’t help but find your gaze toward each other lingering. You bite the inside of your cheek out of nervousness.

“It’s been a while,” you manage to croak out with a warm smile. “You look good!” Your words seem to linger holding more weight than you wanted.

A bit of blush spreads across his cheeks at your comment. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” he replies, a bit quiet and raspy. 

Honestly, you believed it had to be fate. Perhaps written in the stars.

No, you don’t believe in that shit. 

So you pretend that this wasn’t by chance.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x y/n #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x y/n #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers Zero Vol. 12 Azusa Mukami [Track 4]

Original title: ただ、一緒に

Source: Diabolik Lovers Zero Vol. 12 Azusa Mukami [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Kishio Daisuke

Translator’s note: ーー And once again, the power of true love prevails!! The plot of the Zero CDs is a perfect combination between angst, suspense and fluff, which is why it is one of my favorites. I felt like the ‘enemy’ they were fighting this time was not as extreme compared to some of the other CDs and I genuinely got some ~~feels~~ in the end. ;w;

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 4: Simply, Together

The two of you walk through the hallway of the museum.

“Oh...The hallway is...different from earlier...It used to be full of twists and turns, but now it’s just...one straight path...If this building is alive...I suppose it would easily be able to...change its interior...?”

You ask how much longer you’ll have to walk. 

“Mmh...I wonder how much longer this path goes on for...? I’m pretty sure...the museum is guiding us towards a place though...”

Azusa comes to a halt.

“Ah. ...A door. ...Let’s go! We have no...other choice.”

*Creaaaaak*

“...H-Huh...? We’ve returned here again...? The room filled with...art supplies...”

You seem confused. 

“Mmh...I wonder why? Is there something...important here? ...Oh! Wait.”

He looks around, suddenly spotting his doppelganger.

( Say, what’s wrong? Ah...You’re hungry, aren’ you? I’m sorry! I’ll prepare your meal in no time! )

“It’s his...voice...I can hear it from right up ahead...We should probably turn around, huh?”

You shake your head. 

“Ah...Right...It’s a one-way path...So we can’t go anywhere else...Ugh...In that case...Let’s quietly...sneak closer. There might be something in the back after all...”

You slowly step closer.

( Hey...Cheer up? Do you hate me now? )

*Ba-dump*

“Eh...? W-What’s...that!?”

( ...Oh? Ah...You’ve come here. )

“...!”

( Haah...How troublesome. I went through so much trouble to tie you both up too. )

“...!! Stay by my side...!”

Azusa protects you.

“We can’t die here...! We have to go back...no matter what!”

( Can’t do~ Just look at how grumpy she is. I’m sure it’s because she’s hungry. Therefore, I need you two to become her food. ...Say, you want to hurry up and eat too, right? )

*Rumble*

( Oh...What’s wrong...Why won’t you rejoice...? )

“Ah...S-Say! The thing you’re...talking to...it’s shaped like a person but is it...a work of art?”

( ...Right. I made this. It’s the heart of the museum. )

“Oh...! Of the museum...?”

( Fufu~ Isn’t it pretty? I attached these tubes as well. All of the nutrients absorbed through the food come flowing in here. Because of this system, she can stay alive, even when reduced to just her heart. )

“What do you...mean...?”

( My precious someone...was killed a long time ago. Even though she was...so very, very important to me... )

“Are you perhaps talking...about the woman on those sketches?”

( ...Exactly. The one person who accepted me. Without her, I would lose even my reason to exist! Yet...! She almost took her last breath right in front of my own eyes! If she were to pass away I just...I wouldn’t know what to do! ...But you know, I realized! That I could simply move her still-beating heart... )

“Oh...Don’t tell me...That heart is inside...?”

*Ba-dump*

“You transplanted the heart and...turned the person you loved into that thing? Is that why this museum is alive?”

( Yes. Right now...She is this building. )

“Say...Who are you? You’re not an ordinary painting...”

(  I’m a Vampire just like you. I just so happened to be well-versed in this department. (1) ...I was simply living a happy life painting pictures, accompanied by the person I loved. ) 

“Together with...the person you loved?”

( However, as you can see, I died too, staying by her side as a spirit to ensure she would not grow lonely. As a painting who hunts for her prey. ...To make sure she stays alive. )

*Cling*

“...!! What are you...going to do...?”

( What do you mean? I have to restrain you two with pins to make sure the food doesn’t run away? )

The fake Azusa uses his magic to make the pins float in the air.

( Hm~ I’m glad I brought a bunch of these large pins with me. ...I’ll turn you both in skewers, okay? )

*CLANG*

“...!! Step back!! ...Ugh!”

*CLANG*

“Aaargh...!! Uu...Ugh...”

( Ahaha~ My live specimen is complete~ We’ll do this in order, so you’ll have to wait till later. ...First up, we’ll start with the more delicious-looking one~ )

He approaches you.

( Woah there...~ Struggle all you want, but you can’t run. ...The sheer white canvas over there, that’s the museum’s mouth. Once you get thrown inside, you will melt away and become nutrients. ...You seem to have a thing for pain, so I’ll make sure you dissolve slowly, okay? Fufu~ )

The painting demon starts dragging you towards the canvas.

*Rustle rustle* 

“You...can’t...Let...go of her...!”

*Rumble*

( Ah...! )

“...The museum is...crying...again...Perhaps...S-Say...! Couldn’t your...girlfriend be weeping because...she wants you to...stop this already...?”

( ...Hah? )

“When you...fed off her or...even when I did it...Every time...there was the scent of blood...the museum cried...Even when you tried to get her eaten...as if she’s...begging you not to do this...”

( ...You’re wrong. That can’t be. )

“But...!”

( She would never disagree with what I do...! I love her this much! It’d definitely make her happy! ...Ugh. She has simply grown impatient because I’m such a slowpoke. Come on! Get inside the painting...!! )

He pushes you against the canvas.

“...Eve!”

( It’ll be all over once she sinks into the canvas. I’m sure she’ll feel better once she has had her meal~ )

“...Eve...Kuh...You can’t...I won’t let you go...!! I definitely...won’t let you go all by yourself...!”

*Cling*

( Eh...!? There’s just no way he could stand up right now!? )

“Ugh...Kuh...To me...She is my special someone...She is the only one I have...! I definitely don’t want her...to go...!!!!”

Azusa frees himself.

*Cling clang*

“...Eve!!”

He rushes over to you, trying to pull you out of the canvas.

“I won’t let you go...Never...! Argh...!!”

The two of you get absorbed by the painting.

“...Aaah!”

*Thud*

“...Where are we...? I can’t see...anything...? Haah, haah...Am I...inside the painting?”

You call out for Azusa.

“...! Eve...!? Are you there...!?”

You call for him again and Azusa runs to you. 

“Ugh...Haah, haah...! You’re here...”

He grabs hold of your hand.

“...Why are you apologizing...? I didn’t want to leave your side...so that’s why I followed you. I don’t want us to be separated...”

You ask if you will get eaten now. 

“Mmh...It’s all over once you...get absorbed by the painting...We might get...consumed. But you know, this is way better...than losing just you...Neither of us...should have to be lonely. We always have to be together...Right?”

You nod.

“Yeah. ...That’s why...I don’t regret anything. Let’s be together in life and death.”

*Rumble rumble*

“Oh...Eh!? It’s...shaking?”

*Rumble rumble*

“...Ah! I’m being...pulled in...! ...Eve! ...Hang on tight...! Don’t...leave me...!! Aaaaah...!!!”

The two of you get sucked out of the canvas again. 

*THUD*

“Ugh...Ow...A-Are you...okay?”

You nod.

“Thank god...Give me your hand. Can you stand?”

Azusa helps you get up.

“...Where are we...?”

*Rustle*

“...We made it...out of the canvas...!?”

( ...Why!? How come!? How did you get out!? This has never happened before...!? )

“Oh...I see. She let us out...The museum let us...go...”

( ...!! N-No way...No...I don��t believe this. She is always happy with my work! There is no way she would get in my way! )

“That might be true...I’m sure she really does love you...But couldn’t that be...why she’s sad now?”

( ...Eh? )

“You see...I saddened the person important to me in the past as well. Time after time...”

You frown.

“That girl was a...kind person so...she was worried about me and hurt herself too...That’s why I sort of understand...I’m sure your girlfriend is worried about you...Since you’ve taken many lives for her sake. ...I’m sure she doesn’t want you...to continue this...So don’t you think that could be why...she’s crying?”

( ...! ...Say...Is he right...? Are you crying because of me...? )

*Rumble rumble*

( ...!! I-I see...I was wrong... )

He drops to his knees.

( I’m sorry...I...I’m so sorry...! I never meant to make you suffer...! I just...I didn’t want to let you die! I thought that...You’d be happy if I did this...! But...I was wrong, huh? I had forgotten. That you were always the type of person who would worry about me, instead of about yourself. I made you worry a lot, didn’t I? ...I’ll no longer repeat the same mistake. I’ll stop doing this. So please...! Will you stay by my side? )

*Rumble*

( Aah...I see...Mmh. Thank you. )

He stands up again.

( I have a...request to make. Could you please...burn me down together with this museum. )

You seem shocked.

“W-Why...!?”

( She wants things to end. Because she can’t become happy, even if she were to remain alive. However, I can’t let her go alone, so I will perish alongside her. No matter where it takes us, I don’t want to leave her side. )

“I...see. ...Mmh. Understood.”

You tell Azusa not to do it.

“I...can’t stop them. The two of them...seem happy after all. That’s why...Eve...”

You nod.

“Mmh. Let’s go...outside. If we stay here...We’ll get swallowed by the flames...after all...”

( ...Hey! Can I ask one last thing? )

“...Eh?”

( What would you do...If she were to die on you? )

“I would...”

You look up at Azusa.

“i cannot...fantom that...But! However...I might have just done...the exact same thing you did...”

*TIMESKIP*

“...Oh. It has stopped raining. The nearby greenery is still wet, so the fire probably won’t spread...”

You ask him if this is truly the right thing to do.

“Mmh. They wished for this themselves...So I think this was for the best. Besides...I’m sure that nobody can decide...whether this is good or bad...This is the path they have chosen for themselves after all...Nobody should interfere with that...”

He turns his head towards you.

“It’s the same for us, right...? No matter what happens...We don’t want anyone to get in our way...We’d want to be together forever...Don’t we?”

You agree.

“Mmh...I pray (2) that as they meet their end, and even after that...they will never be torn apart...Farewell.”

Azusa sets the museum on fire.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes 

(1) This sentence is quite vague, but I suppose he refers to having the necessary knowledge to know that if he preserved his lover’s heart and put it into something else, he could keep her alive that way. 

(2) He ends his sentence with ように or ‘you ni’ which implies that he is making some sort of wish. 

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #azusa mukami #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers zero #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

[f0rever15elf]

I’m Sorry

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: T Word count: 1,961 Warnings: Alcohol mention, swearing, drinking/getting drunk alone, angst, verbal fighting, no beta

Summary: All couples fight eventually, but this time leaves you questioning your relationship with Marcus

A/N: This is a fic for the following anonymous request: “ Hi!! I was wondering if your Pedro requests are still open? Cause if they are I’d like to request a Marcus Pike or Frankie Morales piece, where they like get into an argument with you and it’s like super angsty, but y’all make up in the end ((: “ I hope you enjoy it dear!

Masterlist |  Ao3

“You absolute CHILD!” you shriek as you slam the door open, storming into the home you shared with Marcus.

“Oh, I’m the child?! You’re the one throwing a temper tantrum!” Marcus slams the door closed with just as much force as you slammed it open.

“Yes, Pike. You’re the child! I cannot believe you right now.” You wheel on him, stabbing your finger against his chest as you glare up at him. “Do you even realize how fucking embarrassed I am right now? I’m never going to be able to show my face at a work function ever again all because you decided to turn into a little green-eyed monster! Child!” Marcus snarls, grabbing your wrist to pull it away from his chest. His grip was firm, but even in the heat of the anger and jealousy you could see bubbling in his eyes, he was still gentle enough to not hurt you.

“And what would you have had me do, huh?! Just let your ex sit there and cozy up to you like that? He had his hands on you and his eyes hadn’t left you all freaking night!”

You yank your wrist from his grasp, absolutely seething. “We’re coworkers! We have an image to upkeep as far as being cordial with each other, especially in front of share holders! Marcus, there were investors there, and your little outburst has put every single deal involving them in jeopardy!” You rip your shoes off, the uncomfortable heels not aiding your mood in the slightest. “All because you got jealous of my ex. All because you couldn’t stand to see me being friendly with someone who use to be in my life. I have never done something like that to you! Not when your high school sweetheart left you flowers. Not when Lisbon sauntered her happy ass into your office, perched herself on you desk, and FIXED YOUR FUCKING HAIR!” Marcus’ nostrils flare as he towers over you, his voice low when he speaks again.

“Don’t bring them into this, this isn’t about them.”

“Oh like hell it isn’t! You know why I didn’t care about those two? Cause I was confident you wouldn’t do anything to hurt or betray me. Because I fucking love you and trust you! But apparently you don’t feel the same way, if your self confidence is so low that you can’t stand to see me laughing with my ex without deciding it’s an appropriate time to throw hands!” That was a low blow, and you knew it, but you were so angry the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. The two of you stand there in the living room, shoulders heaving as you pant for air. You could hear a pin drop, and the tension was so thick it felt suffocating. Slowly, the anger fades from Marcus’ eyes, replaced only with pain as his expression shifts. You cut him deep with that comment, you know you did, and it hurt to see that pain in his gentle eyes.

“M...Marcus…” Your voice is much softer now as you reach for his hand, but he takes a step back out of your reach, shaking his head.

“Don’t,” he whispers, turning and grabbing the car keys from the bowl as he all but runs from the house. You stand there frozen, hand outstretched as you listen to the sound of the car engine starting followed by the tires squealing as he tears out of the driveway. Tears brim in your eyes, spilling over as you begin to tremble.

What have you done?

The minutes turn into hours as you sit in the dark of your living room, waiting on your Marcus to return. An empty wine bottle sits on the coffee table next to a second nearly empty one. You swirl the pale liquid in your glass before bringing it to your lips to down the rest of it. Your once manicured nails have been bitten down to the nail bed, a nasty habit of yours when your anxiety gets the better of you. A habit that hadn’t reared its ugly head since the day you met Marcus… Two in the morning and he still isn’t home and you’re getting worried. You had messed up, and big time. You know how much Marcus struggles with his own confidence after how Lisbon had treated him. You know that, and you still felt the need to fling it in his face. Words said out of anger, words you didn’t mean...you couldn’t take them back now, no matter how much you wished you could.

A fresh round of sobs bubble from your throat as your hand flies to your mouth in an attempt to hold them back. Marcus is the best thing to have ever happened to you, how the hell could you do something like this to him, no matter how angry you were. You rub your eyes, looking like a raccoon from the smeared makeup, before you stagger to your feet. You wanted Marcus. You needed him. You needed him here, at home, where you could apologize until your voice goes hoarse and it still wouldn’t be enough.

The world spins around you, the two bottles of wine catching up to you as you stagger through the living room before falling to your knees. You cradle your face in your hands, sobs wracking your chest. Please come home Marcus, please come home. You don’t hear the key in the lock over the sound of your sobs, but when you feel the rush of air from the door opening, your head snaps up, bleary eyes searching desperately for the love of your life.

“Marcus?” you whimper, barely audible.

“Oh, love...what did you do?” he murmurs as he shuts the door before coming to your side, cradling your cheek gently. Desperate hands reach out to grab his shirt, now wrinkled and untucked from his pants, his jacket missing and sleeves rolled to the elbows.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry Marcus!” you wail, collapsing against him. His gentle arms wrap around you and he sighs, resting his head on top of yours. “I s-shouldn’t h-ha-have said wh-what I did! I was wr-wrong and c-cruel! P-please d-don’t leave m-me!” you plead, trembling against him.

“Leave you? Darling, I wouldn’t do that to you.” He leans back and tilts your chin up to look at him, paying no mind to the black splotches your makeup leaves against his once crisp white button down. His thumb traces along your chin before his hand moves to cup your face, running his thumb along your cheek bone. “You smell like wine...how much have you had?” You shake your head, ignoring the question as you continue to cling to him, your sobs slowing.

“I love you and I d-din’t mean what I said,” you whimper. “Don go again, p-please don g-go again.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere, I just needed to cool down. Calm down, you’re going to make yourself sick.” He brushes your hair from your face as best he can before pulling you back against his chest, slowly rocking you in the middle of the floor. His hand pets your hair gently, soothingly as the remaining cries slowly abate. “Let’s get you to bed, love. Alright? We can discuss this more in the morning.” You mumble something unintelligible against his chest as he helps you stagger to your feet, guiding you to the bedroom. He carefully sits you on the bed, helping you undress down to your bra and underwear, removing your jewelry before going to get a warm cloth, helping to wipe your face. Finally, he hands you a glass of water which you stubbornly refuse at first. “Baby, please? For me?” You crumble, taking the glass and chugging it. He smiles and takes the glass back before gently laying you down so you’re slightly elevated.

When he joins you in bed you roll to snuggle against him, soaking in his warmth as he wraps his arms around you. The last words from your lips before you slip into unconsciousness are a very slurred I’m sorry.

The light of the day streaking across your face is what wakes you in the morning, and you groan as you come around, your head absolutely pounding. Your eyes feel like they’re full of sand and you can barely open them. Every joint in your body hurts and your mouth tastes like sandpaper. Slowly sitting up, you see a glass of water sitting on the nightstand next to two pain pills which you quickly take, downing the whole glass. As you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes in an attempt to dull the ache, last night comes rushing back to you and a wave of intense shame washes over you. A quiet rustling draws your attention to the door, and you seem Marcus peeking in. He gives you his gorgeous smile, one you feel you don’t deserve as he comes in.

“Good morning beautiful,” he whispers, knowing your head is probably killing you.

“Hi, Marcus…” He takes a seat on the bed next to you, taking your hand.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit...for a few reasons.” You look down at your connected hands, yours fitting so perfectly into his. “I’m sorry.”

“Want to elaborate on that?” He asks gently, lifting your face to look at him. There is a pained light in his eyes still that grows when he sees the shame and sadness in your own.

“For everything. For yelling, for that low blow, for...for getting drunk alone, for accusing you of bullshit and...and I…” you begin to tremble, his hand on your face the only thing keeping the tears at bay. “And I was so terrible to you and I’m so sorry, Marcus, I’m so fucking sorry.” Your voice is barely above a whisper as his hand leaves your face to place on the back of your head, pulling you against him. He smells as he always does, like cinnamon and coffee and his fresh aftershave and you use that smell to ground yourself.

“I’m sorry too, love of my life. I shouldn’t have behaved that way at the banquet, and I’ve already taken measures to mitigate what damage I may have done.” You shake your head, pulling back to look up at him.

“Screw the deals. They’re temporary.” You reach up to cup his cheek, your heart swelling as he leans into your touch. “You’re the one I’m in love with, the one I want to spend forever with. Everything else can burn to the ground, I just need you. I’ll always need you.” He smiles at you, that pain in his eyes fading as he watches you for a moment before leaning in to press his lips gently to yours. When he pulls back, he brushes your hair from your face before pressing his forehead to yours.

“We both acted like a couple of fools last night. Let’s put it behind us, ok? We’ll move forward and be better.” He takes your hand and places it over his heart. “It’s yours, completely and totally. I trust and love you with everything I am. I’ll be better, for you. For us.” Your eyes prickle with tears and you sniffle before leaning up to kiss him again.

“I love you too Marcus, so much. You’re my everything. I’ll be better for you, because you only deserve the best.”

He grins, placing a kiss on your nose. “Hey, that’s my line.”

You giggle softly, cuddling into him as he lays you back down to get a few more hours of rest. It’s all ok, you think. It’s all going to be ok. You still have your Marcus, and that is all that matters.

~~~~~

Tag Lists: Permanent : @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​, @tangledlove27​, @paintballkid711​, @lose-eels​, @adamdrivercouldchokeme​

Tag list is open!  Fic Requests are open!

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #the mentalist #my fic #pedro pascal

[cracked-pean]

Not Knowing Pt.2

Characters: Derek Hale, Female! Reader, Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Peter Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Kate Argent (mentioned), Deaton (mentioned)

Word Count: 5,086

Warnings: Buried Alive, Panic Attack, Angst, Fluff Ending, Torture/Punishments (mentioned)

Part 1

Masterlist

A/N: This is part 2 and final part to ‘Not Knowing’ As i mentioned in part 1 this one took a whole mind of its own. But one scene from two shows inspired this to happen. One from ‘Criminal Minds’ and the other from ‘Leverage’ I hope y’all enjoyed it. Let me know what y’all thought about. Again sorry about any errors and missing warnings (please let me know if i missed any so i can tag them)

~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~+~

The pack stood around the living room, still in shock at the information that Kate had given them. Her terms were, they had to agree on letting her go if they wanted to get the location where their friend was at. Kate had seemed truthful enough the pack had to take what they were given. The wolves decided to go by foot, since they'd be faster and Lydia and Stiles went in her car. Once they were on the road Stiles stared at the piece of paper with the number that Kate had given them. She had said that that's how they'd get their proof if [Y/N] was alive or not.

Lydia noticed his hesitation and placed a hand on his that was holding the slip of paper, “I know. But we have to do it. We have to bring her home,” she paused. “Even if we’re too late.”

[Y/N] had started to come to from an odd sound ringing loudly by her ears. Her head was throbbing and the sound wasn’t helping. The movements on her eyes made her head pound more so [Y/N] decided for her head to calm down a bit before trying them again. The floor felt different. It wasn't concrete like it normally was. This was rough, but smooth. She tried opening her eyes again but realized that wherever she was, was just dark with no such thing as a light source. She leaned forward a bit to get up but instantly regretted it as her head made contact with something hard. [Y/N] lifted her arms instead slowly this time but came in contact with the hard object just a few inches above her.

Trying to figure out what was happening and where she was, the ringing sound from earlier had come on again. She felt around and patted her body and found a small object in one of her jean’s pockets. A phone. It was a small silver flip phone and the small screen glowed a random number. Flipping it open, the call was answered.

"H-hello?" she shakingly spoke.

"[Y/N]? [Y/N] is that you?" the voice said quickly.

[Y/N] was so confused but answered anyway. "Yeah, who is this? What do you want?"

Wherever she was at didn't seem to have much room for her. The small phone produced enough light for her to shine around. Then she paused at the reply the voice gave.

"Oh my God. [Y/N] it's Stiles, we're coming to get you," Stiles? Get her? We who? Where the hell even was she.

With the close proximity she was in, she was still able to hear the phone while shining the light around. Wood. This was all wood. Was she in a box. They had trapped her in a box this time. Great. She tried kicking it open with her feet, but she was too compacted, there wasn't enough room to get a good enough momentum to do much damage.

"Hey, are you still there? What's that sound?" Stiles’ voice rang out from the phone again.

She groaned and let her head drop back against the wooden floor.

"They locked me in a wooden box. I can't get out, it's too small."

There were some mumbles on the other end of the line, but she couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Until there was a sigh and the voice was directed back to her.

"Ok [Y/N] don't panic. You're going to be just fine. We're on our way to get you."

"Stiles do you know where am I? I don't even know where I am and I'm in a box," she let out a hard kick and a bit of dirt was let in through the cracks.

"What the hell?" She whispered but Stiles was able to hear it.

"Um, ok. There's no easy way to say this but don't freak ok," there was a small pause. "Kate buried you underground."

[Y/N] froze as she was about to give out another kick. Buried? She was buried? The small box, the dirt, the wood. Oh my god.

She was in a coffin.

Her heart began to race and her breathing started to come out in small gasps. She felt like she was about to pass out, but she pushed that thought away. The phone slipped out of her grasp and fell beside her head as she gripped her hair in her hands.

No, no, no. This cannot be happening to her. Not this. Anything but this.

"-[Y/N]. Focus on my voice. [Y/N], c'mon [Y/N/N]."

Fortunately, the call didn't end and Stiles tried to get her attention back on him.

"S-stiles. I-i can't br-eath." She gasped in every word she spoke.

Stiles glanced at Lydia in the driver seat with wide eyes as her grip tightened around the steering wheel. The banshee stepped on the gas a little more, keeping focus on the road. Lydia couldn’t afford to lose it while behind the wheel. If something were to happen to them, then what good would that do in finding and helping [Y/N]. Stiles was starting to panic himself but he tried to push it down and focus on trying to get his friend to calm down.

"[Y/N], I need you to close your eyes and take in a deep breath and let it out when I tell you to, ok."

"I c-can't."

"Yes, you can. I'm right here with you. I'm not going anywhere. Scott and the others are on foot, they'll be there before you know it. But I need you to calm down for me ok?"

[Y/N] closed her eyes and placed her right hand over her heart to try and slow it down a bit.

"Ok."

Stiles let out a small sigh and reassured Lydia that everything was ok.

"Alright breathe in," he heard an intake and waited a few seconds before continuing, "breathe out," and then there was an exhale. This went out for a few minutes till [Y/N] told him she was ok for the time being.

It was quiet on [Y/N]'s end but Stiles let her know he was still there and he knew she was too by the sound of her breathing.

-

Derek was taking the lead. The others were behind him close by, but he was slightly faster than them. It could have been the alpha spark in him, or the anger that he was feeling towards Kate and her men. Whatever it was, he was glad it was giving him strength to keep pushing towards the girl.

He was lost in thought when he took in a familiar scent.

"Stop." He motioned the others to hold their position.

"You smell that?"

Scott was confused but took a whiff of the air around him as did the other wolves.

Peter broke the silence, "It's faint, but it's her. It's [Y/N]."

Derek gave him a nod.

"We must be getting close to her" Commented Isaac.

They concentrated on her scent to decide what direction they should head in next.

"This way. Let's go," Derek motioned them to follow.

The further in the woods they got, the stronger her scent got. They had thought this was a win for them. They were so close to saving her. Having her near them again. That is until they got to the clearing.

"What the hell?" Erica gasped.

It was an open field with a bunch of freshly dug up holes. Each pile had a shovel stacked on top with a piece of clothing belonging to their friend attached to the handles. Her scent was everywhere. No wonder it was so strong.

"How are we supposed to know which one she's in now?" Boyd questioned.

Derek rubbed a hand across his forehead and let out a frustrated sigh. Knowing Kate, he knew she wouldn’t have made it so easy to rescue [Y/N].

"Scott, call Lydia,"

-

There was ringing coming from Lydia's phone in the cup holder indicating she was getting a call. Lydia gave him the go ahead to answer it since she was driving.

He put the call on speaker and held it in between the both of them.

“We're here. Did you get a hold of her yet?” Scott's voice rang through the car.

“Yeah we did, she's fine for now,” Lydia assured him.

There was a sigh of relief on the other end.

“Ok that's good but we have another problem now. The field we're at is surrounded by a bunch of piles of dirt with her scent at each one. We don't know which one she's at.”

“Stiles,” it was Peter. “Tell her to make some kind of noise if she can. We might be able to hear her if she's not too far below.”

Stiles mumbled an ok and returned to his call with [Y/N], "Hey [Y/N/N], the others are at the field where you are. I don't know how far below you are, but can you make some sort of sound for them to hear you?"

"Y-yeah. I can-n try."

"Ok, as loud as you can [Y/N]."

She set the phone beside her head and balled her hands into fist and began to bang the roof of the coffin. The dirt was starting to make way in through the cracks more. Her bare feet started to ache as kicked with them as well, she's sure there were some blood stains at the end now.

Peter handed back the phone to Scott and told him to keep the line open.

The wolves split up and walked around the piles and concentrated on listening for any sound that would let them know which one their friend was trapped in.

"Stiles I can't do it anymore," [Y/N] spoke through her end slightly out of breath.

"Just a little longer [Y/N/N], we're so close," Stiles reassured her.

Lydia's grip on the wheel began to tighten more if that was possible. She took her phone out of Stiles’ grip and spoke.

"Scott anything? I don't think she can hold out much longer."

Scott sighed, "We're trying but I think she's too far down."

She glanced at Stiles, knowing that he heard his best friend.

Derek was about to pull the plug and tell them to dig up every patch there was. He would not stop till they found her. Dead or alive.

"Guys, over here. I think I've got her."

Everyone turned to Erica's call. They hadn't realized how big the patches extended to. Erica was at the other end of the field and kneeled down closer to the pile of dirt she was at.

Right at that moment, Lydia's car pulled up to the field.

"Oh my god," Lydia breathed out. It looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie. God, she really hoped there weren’t any other bodies below those piles. The two jumped out of the car and ran straight towards where the others seemed to be heading.

"[Y/N], another sound I think we’ve got you," Stiles spoke into the phone as he ran.

[Y/N] sighed. She was sweaty and out of breath from all that banging, plus the oxygen was slipping past her quickly from all her movements in the coffin. Not to mention, small dirt piles had begun to form on and around her from dirt that had fallen through the cracks. Closing her eyes, [Y/N] pictured all her friends laughing and having fun. Their smiles shining brightly, a small memory flashing before her with each one, trying to muster up what little strength she had left in her to give it another go. Until a certain one’s made her heart skip a beat. Derek.

If what Kate had said was true about [Y/N] being Derek’s weakness, then Derek was [Y/N]’s as well. She couldn’t recall when the exact moment she realized her feelings towards the Alpha had blossomed, but they were real. Her heart would race a little when she caught sight of him, her stomach did backflips when he would make contact with her skin whether it be in passing or while training. Her breath would hitch slightly when he would suddenly appear in the room or beside her. Every feeling you could think of, she had felt. [Y/N] hadn’t tried to hide her feelings but she hadn’t tried to make them known either, they were just there. And if the pack had caught a whiff of them, they didn’t mention them to her.

[Y/N] scrunched up her eyebrows and gathered up the little strength she had left. C’mon [Y/N], you can do it. Derek taught us to fight till our last dying breath, and that’s what you’re going to do.

She began to punch and kick harder this time, trying to make as much noise as she could. The last kick she made was too hard. It caused a board at the end by her feet to loosen and break, letting dirt completely cover her below the knees.

“Fuck, that’s not good,” she muttered.

The others above ground arrived just as Erica was able to confirm that she was able to hear banging below the pile. Derek grabbed the shovel from the pile and began to dig. Boyd jumped in with one of the surrounding shovels and quickly began to help the Alpha.

“Stiles, a board broke and more dirt fell through. I can’t anymore,” Her voice came out softly through the phone as small tears began to well up in her eyes.

“It’s ok [Y/N], just hold on a bit longer. We’re digging you up right now,” the boy ran a hand along his forehead as he gripped the phone tightly in the other.

“I’m so tired.” With that [Y/N]’s eyes closed.

Stiles’ eyes widened, “No, no, no. C’mon stay awake. [Y/N]?” But there was no reply from her end. “Guys, I think she passed out.”

Derek pushed even more, every breath he took he shoved the shovel even deeper, trying to get enough out of the grave. Suddenly, the tool made contact with something hard. Derek called out, “I GOT HER!”

He tossed the shovel aside and kneeled down on the wooden box as he quickly began to brush the dirt away. He tried looking for some sort of handle to open it but there was none, it was all nailed down. With no other choice he balled up his fist and let it fall through the box. His eyes glowed as he began to tear away wooden boards determined to reach her, and there she was. Her hair was all tangled and scattered around her face. She had black smudges from the sweat and dirt coming together. Derek made a big enough gap and carefully began to pull up [Y/N]’s body through. Peter and Scott reached down and helped pull her above ground onto the grass. Lydia kneeled down beside her, brushing away the girl’s face and dusting off some dirt from her face. [Y/N]’s skin was a bit cold compared to the others.

“There’s a blanket in the backseat of my car,” Lydia said to no one specific but Isaac ran to get it.

“She’s still alive, she’s ok. Just passed out,” Peter informed them.

Derek was still in the grave, it reached up to his waist while standing on top of the box, he had his head hung low as he leaned on the grass for support. He focused his hearing on just her and sighed in relief. [Y/N] was still breathing, it was faint but began to regulate itself as she breathed in more of the open air, and her heart was steady as well. The fear of almost losing her was a terrible feeling for him. God. He understood what Kate had meant now. It was the not knowing. Not knowing if he and the others would make it to her in time. Not knowing if she was alive or not. Not knowing if he would ever get to see her again, her smile, hear her laugh at some joke one of the pack members had told her, feel her hugs. The not knowing was truly the worst.

“[Y/N]? Can you hear me?” Lydia gently spoke to her. [Y/N] had begun to stir and grumble in her place. The others gathered closer but still left enough space for her to not feel suffocated. [Y/N]’s eyes fluttered open and saw spots of black and red. She blinked a few times to adjust her eyesight and the black and red spots could now be recognized as the night sky and Lydia’s red hair. I’m alive? She made a move to sit up and Lydia slowly helped her, right then Isaac appeared with the blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“Ow, that hurt,” she mumbled as she brought a hand to her head and leaned against the girl’s chest.

“Yeah, you have quite a bump on the back of your head,” Lydia mentioned.

[Y/N] looked around but her body went stiff. Those eyes. Oh god, she wasn’t safe. This was all a trick. She looked back at the others and their eyes had changed. She began to scoot away from them. No this can’t be happening.

“[Y/N], hey what’s the matter?” Scott asked as he neared her.

“No, no. Get away from me,” her voice was soft and shaky, but filled with fear.

Their eyes were glowing. These weren’t her friends. It was Kate and her men.

Everyone was met with confusion and worry. She had been fine literally a second ago. The wolves could smell fear radiate off her. But there was nothing around for her to be scared off. These were her friends, they would never harm her, never in their wildest dreams.

Derek quickly glanced up at her and noticed her eyes shifting between everyone and trying to create far enough distance from everyone. He slowly jumped out of the grave and made small movements towards not wanting to frighten her even more.

“[Y/N], it’s us. You know us, we're your friends, we’re not going to hurt you.”

Someone had spoken but [Y/N] couldn’t hear them. Kate and her men had traumatized her too much to be able to recognize her friends anymore. All the people around her, their eyes were just like theirs when they would come in her room and punish her.

Lydia and Stiles just stared at her. When [Y/N] had come to she was fine, but as soon as she saw everyone else she tried to get away from them. Stiles glanced at his friends and cursed. All their eyes were glowing, none were their normal eye color. None looked human to her, except his and Lydia’s.

“Lydia, Kate must have done something to her. She doesn’t recognize the others, but she does us,” he pointed out to her and the redhead instantly understood. The two spoke amongst each other and then split ways. Lydia walked towards the others and gathered them together while Stiles carefully walked towards the girl curled up in herself on the floor mumbling softly.

“Hey,” he gently spoke and placed a hand to her shoulder. The action caused her to jump a little and look up. Her eyes met light brown ones and something clicked in her.

“Stiles?”

He gave her a small smile and nodded, “Yeah, it’s me. You ok?”

The others noticed her voice change and saw she didn’t move away from him. This relaxed them a little and returned their focus back to Lydia.

“T-they were here. Kate and them, they were here,” her eyes made to move around him but Stiles quickly stopped the motion.

“[Y/N], you’re safe now. They’re gone now. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

“No, no. I saw them. I saw their eyes,” she muttered out.

This caused Stiles to sigh sadly. He had hoped his and Lydia’s suspicion to be wrong be it wasn’t. “That wasn’t them, that was the pack. Our Friends.”

[Y/N] made another move to look behind him but was stopped again. What was going on? Why wouldn’t Stiles let her see the others.

“But you can’t see them just yet. I need to listen to me very closely.” [Y/N] looked at him closely but complied.

“I’m not sure what exactly Kate did, but I’m pretty sure she made you fear us. Well, the wolves more specifically. See, when you woke up Lydia was with you and you were fine. But, once you saw the others you panicked.” [Y/N] looked down at the grass between them and thought about it as he spoke. “That’s because their eyes weren’t their human color. Its what’s causing you to freak out. Notice how you’re not backing away from me?” She glazed back up at him and nodded. Stiles grinned, “That’s because I’m not a werewolf. I can’t change my eyes like they can.”

[Y/N] thought back on what had happened to her in the time she spent away from the others in that cold, isolated room.

“She hardly ever came to see me,” Lydia and the others were now focusing on the two on the grass floor. Listening in on their conversation. “She always had her men do her work for her. They were horrible, Stiles. They would punish me for the hell of it. They’d starve me, hunt me,” she couldn’t hold back the tears as they ran down her stained cheeks. “Cut me. But, they were always shifted. Claws, teeth, eyes, everything.” A deep growl came from behind them but she didn’t worry about it too much. She understood it was her friends and that they were listening. But that didn’t mean she didn’t slightly tense up when hearing it.

“I know it’s gonna be hard for you to see them face to face, so I have an idea. Only if you’re up for it,” Stiles offered. [Y/N] nodded. She was willing to do anything. She had spent too much time away from them already and she wanted to be near them again. No matter how long it took, she wanted her family back.

Stiles nodded and began to shift their bodies together, never once letting her lose eye contact with him. He had made them switch places of a sort, making it this time for Donnie to have her back towards the others and Stiles facing her and them at the same time.

“I’m going to ask each of them to come over to us, but you won’t be looking at them. You’ll only be able to focus on their voice and touch. Your eyes will deceive you, but your ears won’t. You know it’s our pack here with us now so trust me. Trust yourself.” [Y/N] closed her eyes and let out a small breath, once opened she gave him a slight nod.

Stiles gave Lydia a nod and she began to send one member at a time.

The first one over was Erica. The blonde began to run towards her best friend and came to a stop just before reaching her and walked slowly towards [Y/N]. Erica wasn’t sure what to say so she said the first thing that would make [Y/N] believe it was truly her.

“Hi Wonder Woman,” Erica’s voice came out in a whisper as she placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder but [Y/N] was able to hear it.

She chuckled and placed her own over the one on her right, “Hi Batwoman.”

That was how each played out. One by one each member made themselves known to her whether it be a nickname or a “Glad your back” but Donnie was able to recognize each voice to each name. Then it was down to one person left.

Derek was scared. Of course [Y/N] was going to recognize him, but Derek feared that Kate might have done something to her to fear Derek in a different matter other than his shifted eyes. Kate had taken [Y/N] to hurt Him. Kate had made [Y/N] fear his pack to hurt Him. All that she had done to her was to hurt Derek and he was wary of  what he could find out when he made his presence known to her.

Peter was just finishing up and Lydia turned to the young Hale. He was pacing slightly behind her and rubbing his hands together. She understood what was going through his head and made his way over to him.

“Hey, you’re up,” Derek paused and looked at her. Lydia’s eyes softened and gave his arm a small squeeze. “You’ll be ok. Just take a deep breath and walk on over there. She remembered the others, she’ll remember you,” she gave him a small smile and stepped aside for him. With that, Derek took a shaky step forward and began to walk towards her.

Stiles was talking quietly to her to calm her nerves and quieted down once he noticed the Alpha behind her. Stiles gave him a nod to go ahead.

“Hi, [Y/N],” he had placed a hand on her shoulder, but had also kneeled down behind her.

[Y/N]’s eyes widened. That voice. That one specific had taken the air out of her lungs. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she heard it. The voice didn’t have to say much more than her name for her to be able to distinguish who it belonged to.

“D-d-derek?” 

The voice let out a deep rumble before speaking again, “Yeah [Y/N/N], it’s me. You’re safe now.”

She looked at Stiles with hope in her eyes. She wanted him to help her confirm it was him. She could hear him and could feel his hand on her, but it all seemed too good to be true. But once that smile appeared on Stiles’ face the tears fell upon her cheeks and she turned to embrace the male behind her.

The motion came at Derek with such a force, he was pushed down to his bottom as he quickly wrapped his arms around her too. All the emotions he had bottled up for the past three months of not knowing her whereabouts came pouring out in that one hug towards her. He had tears in his eyes as well and hid his face in her neck as she hid hers in his chest. He took in her scent, took in her heartbeat and just focused everything onto her. Finally having her in his arms where she belonged. [Y/N] was shaking as she cried. The fear of all those months finally catching up to her. She kept mumbling apologies while Derek just held her and commenting she was safe and that they weren’t going to harm her anymore. After her tears had reduced to sniffles, she made a move to remove her head out of his chest to look at him, but Derek noticed and stopped her.

“No, don’t look. Just listen to my voice. I’m right here with you,” he soothed her. One arm was wrapped around her waist as the other brushed her hair, calming her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I could look at them,” she squeezed him again. “I wish I could look at you.”

“Don’t apologize, this wasn’t your fault. All that matters is that you're here safe with us. With me,” he placed a kiss on top of her head.

After a few minutes had passed, [Y/N] had begun to doze off in the warmth of his arms. Derek glanced down at her and finally took her in fully. Her hair was all knotted and scattered across her face. Her cheeks had dark smudges with tear stains on them. Her clothes were all dirty and torn in random places. Derek was pissed at the way Kate and her men had treated and left her. He noticed her feet near his thighs as she was curled up on him. They were all scarred, scabbed and bloody. His eyes glowed red and could feel them do so. He made sure [Y/N]’s head stayed hidden in his chest in case she accidentally made eye contact with him.

“I’m going to ride with Stiles and Lydia over to Deaton’s so he could check on her. The rest should head on home,” Derek announced as he got up with [Y/N] in his arms, carrying her bridal style.

The others didn’t argue but came towards the two to bid them a goodbye before walking over to the trees to head on home. But they were all going to Derek’s loft to stay the night.

Derek walked over to the car and made himself and [Y/N] comfortable in the backseat, with her body laid out while her head laid in Derek’s lap. He had gotten a water bottle and damped a small area on the corner of the blanket to wipe away some of the dirt on her face. Shortly after, [Y/N]’s eyes fluttered open and she saw him looking out the window waiting for the other two to join him. She was able to see the scruff along his jaw, his brows creasing together and those beautiful hazel-green eyes. For the first time she was able to truly see him as him and not one of Kate’s men and fear for her life as she did with them, but as the man she had fallen in love with and felt the warmth and safety in being around him. [Y/N] noticed one of his hands on her stomach and the other in her hair. She intertwined hers with his which caused him to look down at her and noticed her eyes were focused on them.

“You have to keep your eyes closed [Y/N],” he reminded her.

“But I’ve already looked at you,” she tilted her head up towards him. “And I’m still here.”

“W-wha, but I t-tho-” [Y/N] grinned at his stammering.

“I guess it’s only when you guys’ eyes are shifted. Might need some time working up to them, but I’m ok when they’re normal.”

Derek grinned down at her and brought up her hand to his lips. “You should rest, we’ll be at Deaton’s soon.” She hummed and dozed off.

Shortly after Lydia and Stiles made it into the car and noticed the two in the backseat. Their hands intertwined and placed on [Y/N]’s stomach. Derek had his head leaned against the window with a faint smile on his face. Stiles couldn’t help it but took a quick picture of the two.

“He’s gonna kill you for that you know,” Lydia sang.

Stiles scoffed, “He’ll also thank me. Now drive.”

Lydia laughed as she drove out the clearing and towards the road.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf drabble #teen wolf oneshot #teen wolf x reader #derek hale #stiles stilinski #scott mccall #lydia martin #erica reyes #vernon boyd #isaac lahey #peter hale #kate argent #angst #angst drabble #angst oneshot #angst imagine #angst fanfic #angst fanfiction #derek hale fanfic #derek hale fanfiction #derek hale angst #derek hale imagine #derek hale oneshot #derek hale fluff #x reader #reader

[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 31 - Lonely

Summary: Even though you and George are on good terms, you feel deserted and lonely. When you sneak out with Fred to get away for a bit, George is mad at you for risking your life

Warnings: Angst, swearing(?)

(Also, I’m sorry but I’ve decided not to tag people - it’s just too much work. Feel free to follow me; I only post this story and you’ll see every time a new part comes up :)  )

Word count: 5.5K

George Weasley x Reader // Fred Weasley x Reader (platonic)

Masterlist

It had been three weeks since George had walked out the door into the rain. For a good four days you had hoped that he’d come back and you could settle everything. But he hadn’t shown up. According to Bill, the twins were fine, their shop was always crowded with customers and they seemed relatively okay.

However, you couldn’t help but suffer. You kept replaying the whole awful conversation in your head, cringing and feeling ashamed. You knew you had rightfully become angry; George’s decision was just as insane as they come. But on the other hand, you also knew that you had made a mistake when you had started shouting at him. Both of you had been wrong, and now both of you were suffering because of it. Well… you hoped it wasn’t only you who had been suffering for the past few weeks.

You had to wait twenty nine days to hear the familiar pop again. You had been mindlessly flipping the pages of a book that you had read three times now, when the sound of someone apparating came from the garden. You looked at the clock; it was too early for Bill and Fleur to come home. You stood up so suddenly your chair almost fell over. You drew your wand and raised it so that it was pointing at the door.

Someone knocked. Then a voice, a voice that you had thought you’d never hear again spoke.

“It’s me. My name’s George Weasley, you call me ginger boy when you want to be cheeky. I call you witty, because you always have to have a comeback to whatever I say and because you’re never afraid to tell me when I’m acting like a true git —”

You opened the door and George fell silent at once. He looked skinnier than the last time you had seen him, and his hair was a bit longer as well. He was looking at you, his face stuck in an uncertain expression, his eyes in doubt.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” you whispered back.

The two of you were staring at each other, not sure what to say. Then George casted down his eyes and cleared his throat.

“Can I… can I come in?”

“Sure,” you said and stepped to the side. As he walked past you, you could feel the scent of the shop on him. Fireworks. Your stomach clenched and you closed the door.

“I…,” he started, forcing himself to look into your eyes. “I wasn’t sure if I should come.”

“Why?” you asked, maybe a bit more coolly than you had intended. “Because you might be followed?”

“No,” George shook his head. “Because I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”

“Oh. I see.”

Both of you fell silent again. You didn’t know what to say, where to start. You opened your mouth and then closed it. You were staring at your own two feet for at least a minute before you gathered enough strength to look up again.

“George —”

“Y/N —”

You cut each other off and met each other’s eyes again. You couldn’t look at him for long; his gaze was burning an aching hole in your soul. He looked lost, scared, uncertain; he looked like an abandoned child. He suddenly seemed much younger than he actually was.

You tore your eyes away from his face and saw his hands by his side. He was constantly making his fingers into a fist then releasing them again, clearly drawn by anxiety. You sighed. You were sure that in this moment both of you felt the same way.

He had hurt you. Yes. But you had hurt him just the same. You wanted to tell him how sorry you were… you wanted him to know that you had run after him into the rain… that you were still insanely in love with him and that fighting was stupid… You wanted to let him know that he was your everything and not having him around had driven you mad… and you just wanted him to know how much you’d missed him. But words seemed to fail you. You didn’t know how to say all those things… Not when you still had that miserable argument between you… Not when he had said he didn’t want to visit you in the future.

But you didn’t want to fight anymore.

You stepped forward, your eyes still fixed on his nervous hands. Slowly, very slowly you reached out, touching his fist, gently asking his fingers to loosen the fist and to hold onto you instead. And they did. With a sudden breath of air his hand welcomed yours and finally you were strong enough to look into his eyes again.

“I don’t wanna fight anymore,” you whispered. He nodded.

“Me neither, I’m…” he was desperately looking for the words. “Witty, I didn’t mean what I  said —”

“I know,” you said reassuringly. “Me neither.

“I am so sorry,” he said, his head hanging low. “Really, I was… I was a horrible, disgusting prat, who —”

You stood on your toes and wrapped your arms around his neck. Even though the last couple of weeks were rough, you didn’t want to hear him bashing himself.

“Let’s just… Let’s just figure out something, okay?” you said while hugging him. When he put his arms around you as well, the warmth left by his touch was coursing through your body like electricity. It warmed you. “Because I really missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” his voice cracked. You hugged him tighter. “These weeks without you… It was absolutely dreadful. Even more when I realized that it happened because of me.”

“That’s not entirely true…”

“Yes, it is,” he said firmly. “You were right… about the stupidest idea I’ve ever had.”

“Then let’s come up with something,” you said as you let him go, but stayed close while looking deeply into his eyes. “Let’s have a plan, let’s figure out a schedule… Anything. Anything is better than not having you around.”

He didn’t answer at once. You saw doubt on his face. Before he could had come up with anything, you cupped his cheeks and talked in a very gentle manner.

“Love… You saw how these three weeks were… Dreadful as you said. It’s clear that… we need each other. I need you…”

“And I need you, too, but it’s dangerous —”

“I know, love,” you said, still watching your tender tone. “But I think we’ve reached a point where we simply have no other option but to accept the risk. Because this… this isn’t a life. What you’re suggesting is going to kill us both.”

“I can’t loose you,” he said miserably. “If the risk is too high, I cannot…”

“So we’ll make it as low as possible. Seeing you once a month is still better than not seeing you at all.”

“Once a month?” he said. “That’s…”

“Awful, yes. It’s…” you were only now realizing what it meant. “It’s horrible, but… would you be okay with that?”

You stroke his jaw with your finger. He took his time, thinking.

“Or even Fred can come and visit me once in a while,” you added with a weak smile. “I miss him as well.”

George chuckled. You took it as a good sign.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’d be delighted.”

“So is that a yes?” you asked carefully. George kissed your temple and murmured against your skin.

“Yes. Once a month.”

Once a month. Even though it was more than nothing, your smile still wasn’t completely honest. When George left that afternoon, the promise that you’d only see him four weeks later made you want to burst into tears again.

——

And so, weeks had passed. The schedule seemed to be working, it didn’t draw much attention and George said the members of the Ministry and the Death Eaters (which were basically the same thing at this point) did not seem suspicious. If anything, it made you at ease at least.

Every two weeks one of the twins showed up to spend one hour with you, keeping you company, telling you everything that had been happening in the world. And every time they left, they took a piece of you with them, eventually making you feel deserted and empty. You spent almost all your time in your room, barely going outside, not seeing the point since you’d already knew the garden and the small segment of the beach inside the protective charms like the back of your hand.

When you were not listening to the radio listing all the names of people who had disappeared or died, you tried to sleep. Your idea was that if you woke up late and went to bed early, two weeks would pass incredibly fast. However, since you were doing nothing other than worrying, mostly you just lay awake in bed, staring at the dark ceiling, trying to avoid your anxious and miserable thoughts. Oftentimes you grabbed your crystal necklace, letting George know that you were thinking about him; then, you waited to see the crystal turning its color, giving you small doses of relief that George was okay, too, and he didn’t forget you, regardless of what your damaged brain suggested.

Then the weather started to change; the wind was cooler, the days were shorter. December had arrived, marking the beginning of the fifth month that you had spent in hiding. You could count on one hand how many times you’d seen George. By this time you felt both physically and mentally sick. You had nothing to look forward to. Only one hour from George and one hour from Fred per month.

Today was one of those hours when you didn’t feel totally depressed, and it was only due to the fact that Fred was sitting at the table next to you, cutting up a blueberry pie that Mrs Weasley had made. He was rather cheerfully talking about something and nodged you with his elbow when you weren’t paying attention for the second time now.

“Oi!” he said, shoving pie into his mouth. “I’m talking to you.”

“Sorry,” you said and started picking your pie with your fork. You wanted to eat it but on the other hand you knew your nervous-all-the-time stomach couldn’t handle it.

“What’s gotten into you?” asked Fred, eyebrows raised.

“Am I a burden?”

The question burst out of you before you could had stopped yourself. Fred looked taken aback.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“I just… Never mind.”

“Hey…” he gently put his hand on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure, that’s why you just asked me if you’re a burden.”

“I meant…” you sighed and put down your fork. “I know I’m not good company. Nothing has happened to me in the last five months.”

“And?”

“And I’m sorry if this obligatory visiting is starting to annoy you.”

“Merlin, Y/N, something’s really gone wrong in your head,” he said in disgust. “You really think I don’t like to see you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Blimey. Did you ask my brother the same thing?”

“No.” “Is it just me, then? Do you think I’m not your friend anymore?”


“It’s not that!” you snapped.

“Then what?”

“I… Forget it.”

“Tell me.”

He was leaning quite close, completely ignoring his pie before him. There was something in his eyes that let you know that he won’t judge you. You turned your head away, picking at your pie while you talked.

“It’s really hard, you know. I know that I’m lucky, and I’m grateful, but… everything is hell out there and I just really wish… I really wish I could do something. Help.”

“You’re helping by staying safe,” said Fred seriously. “By staying alive. I know it’s hard, staying here. I’d gone crazy, believe me. Not leaving the bloody house for months. I’m really proud of you.”

You snorted.

“For what, may I ask?”

“For holding on,” said Fred with a shrug.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Have you told George this?”

“Not really.”

“Why?”

You mumbled something about not wanting to bother him. Fred frowned.

“Well, that’s just stupid. Why would you bother him?”

“I’d rather just enjoy the time he spends here.”

“Y/N…”

“So how’s the shop?” you asked. You didn’t want to talk about your issues anymore and Fred, after staring at you in doubt for a few seconds, let you change the topic.

“Yeah, the shop’s good. Lot of customers. We’re quite busy.”

“That’s nice.”

“It is. We’re working on some new stuff, they’re quite amazing, you’ll see.”

“I wish I could see it. Or just see the shop again. Or just go for a walk, really.”

“Well, take your coat, Y/N, I’m taking you out,” said Fred jokingly. You chuckled.

“Can you imagine? Would be kinda crazy.”

“Yeah,” Fred smiled to himself. “Crazy.”

You locked eyes, staring in silence. You knew you were thinking the same thing.

“It… It would be crazy, though… wouldn’t it?” you said, asking for reassurance.

Fred tilted his head from left to right, thinking to himself.

“Yeah… It would. Unless…”

“It wouldn’t.”

“It’s kinda dangerous though…”

“Yeah, we shouldn’t…”

“Or should we?”

“Well…” you started carefully. “I mean if… we’re careful and everything… disguise ourselves, maybe…”

“Stay only for a little while,” nodded Fred. “Find a nice place…”

“A muggle town, perhaps? Where no one knows us?”

“Yes… Yes I think…”

“That should be fine.”

You were staring at each other again. You dared only to whisper.

“Are you serious?”

“Y/N… take your coat.”

You jumped up from your seat with a sudden wave of excitement. You were going out. You were leaving the house! You were going to see something else than these walls and the ocean!

“We need to get back before Bill and Fleur do.”

“Yes,” agreed Fred. Then he drew out his wand. “Now, come here.”

He examined you from head to toe, then indicated at your face.

“Would you like your eyecolor to change? Or your hair?”

“Should we do both?” you asked. “And I think we should change you as well.”

Ten minutes later you stepped out of the house as someone unrecognisable. Your hair was pink as Tonks’s, your eyes a strange color of purple. You had told Fred about muggle contact lenses, he was only willing to change your eyes to an extreme extend after that. You were wearing a big puffy jacket with green boots, and a scarf that said “Oxford University”.

“I have never heard of this place,” said Fred.

“Well then, great. We’re supposed to be muggles, right?”

He was now blonde, his brown eyes changed to blue. It felt weird to look at him, but the way he talked to you made it obvious that he was still Fred.

“Well, then, woman,” he said with a grin. “Are you ready?”

You looked at the ground as if you could see the invisible border. Your insides were shaking with excitement. You took Fred’s hand and closed your eyes.

“I’m ready.”

He took one step, pulling you with him. Your boots barely touched the ground when you felt yourself twisting in the air, having your lungs begging for air, then it was over and you felt yourself standing on concrete instead of sand. You opened your eyes.

“Where are we?”

You were standing in a dark alleyway between the back of two shops. On your right were some dustbins, on your left lay the street, illuminated by the setting sun.

“It’s a muggle town, er, village more like. I forgot the name but I remember dad bringing us here once when we were little. He wanted to show us the muggles.”

“I see.”

“Ready?”

“Sure,” you said but you couldn’t move. It was so surreal. It was so exciting and nerve-racking. You couldn’t believe it. Fred chuckled, smirking.

“Come.”

He grabbed your hand and started pulling you towards the main street. When you stepped onto the sidewalk, your mouth opened to the sight. The cars were bathing in the orange light of the sunset, a man and a woman were riding a bycicle on the icy road, laughing. Shops were all around the place, offering tea, coffee, bagels and scones. A nice little sidewalk with stairs led to a small lake across the road. Children were skating on its surface.

“You like it?” asked Fred, still grinning. His breath was like smoke in the cold December air.

“I love it. Thank you.”

“No problem, love.”

He bought two hot teas with honey, then you two started walking towards the lake.

“How come you have muggle money on you?”

“You never know when you’ll need it,” shrugged Fred.

You made your way down the stairs, now walking in the snow, sipping the tea. You found an empty bench not far from the lake, where the sun still warmed your faces but you could also keep your distance from the muggles.

“What are they doing?” asked Fred, indicating at the children on the ice.

“Skating,” you said. “You don’t know about skating?”

“Well, look at them,” he said with a funny tone. “Seems useless to me.”

You giggled.

“Just because it’s not quidditch…”

“It doesn’t make any sense —”

“It doesn’t mean it’s not entertaining!” you laughed. Fred frowned in mock outrage.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes, yes I am,” you rolled your eyes jokingly. “Wizards.”

He didn’t say anything but from the corner of your eyes you saw him smiling to himself and shaking his head. He then turned back towards the children. You took a sip from your tea.

“How does it feel being a blonde?” you asked.

“It felt normal until you brought it up.”

“Sorry,” you chuckled.

“Does it look strange to you?”

You looked at him. You squinted.

“It’s your eyes, more like. Not what I’m used to.”

“I’m still handsome I hope,” he smirked. You laughed.

“Everyone can dream.”

“You’re naughty,” he said. “I know I’m not as handsome as my brother.”

“Yeah?” you asked, quite surprised at his statement. Then he raised his head, closing his eyes with satisfaction.

“Now that I’m blonde, I’m more handsome.”

“Yeah, you are,” you said, then covered your mouth. Fred’s eyes burst wide open.

“Did you just —”

“No!” you squeeked. Fred nodded vigorously.

“Yes, you did! You said it!”

“No, I didn’t! I didn’t mean it like that!” you tried to save yourself but the damage was done. Fred laughed joyfully.

“Well, well, dear Y/N, the day finally arrived…”

“Oh, shut up…”

“The day when you admit the truth…”

“Oh, God,” you chuckled painfully.

“Oi, Y/N, what would George say to this?”

“Oh, shut up, you,” you said between laughs and hit him playfully on his shoulder. “You’re never gonna let me forget this, are you?”

“Never,” he said, beaming. “I’ll tell it to my grandchildren one day, let them carry on the story of this fine day, let the future know…”

“Oh, my God, just stay quiet now,” you laughed.

The sun was hanging low now, and the air was getting even colder than before. You’d drunk your last sips of tea and now you were playing with the paper cup, folding it in your hands. Fred was watching the children with interest, every now and then a small smile appeared on his lips whenever a kid did something funny. When the last beam of orange sunlight disappeared behind the hill, and the kids started to leave, Fred looked at you with a soft expression.

“I reckon it’s time to go.”

“I know,” you said. You’d been preparing for this moment the minute you two had sat down here.

“We can come again sometime,” he said gently, seeing your sorrowful face.

“When I’ll see you in a month?” you asked miserably. You turned your head away. You didn’t want to see his pitiful expression.

He didn’t say anything. Still staring at the lake, he put one arm around your shoulders and pulled you into a gentle hug. You let out a shaky sigh.

“I don’t wanna go back,” you whispered into the silence.

“I know.”

You raised your head a little, looking at him. He turned to you, his eyes meeting yours.

“Thank you, Fred.”

“You’re welcome.”

His lips curled into a sweet smile and even though he was blonde, even though he had blue eyes, you recognised him under his disguise. You recognised his mannerisms, the way he looked at you, the way he talked to you, the way he hugged you. All of it made you feel really melancholic.

“Take me back, please,” you said, accepting that there was simply no other way.

You stood up from the bench and walked back to the street, passed the shops and got back to the alleyway from where you started off. You offered your hand to Fred, but he refused to take it. Instead, he placed his hands on both side of your face.

“It’s gonna be okay, Y/N, all right? You’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

Seeing how intense he was, you nodded. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe him so bad.

“Okay,” you said, and offered your hand once again. This time he took it and you felt the familiar twisting and turning again.

You felt the salty air first, but you refused to look around just yet. Behind your closed eyelids you saw the village in the orange light, and the lake with the children. You wanted to hold on to it for as long as you could.

“Oh… Shit.”

Hearing Fred’s tense voice made you open your eyes. Every inch of your body winced in fear. In the backyard of the house stood George. He was facing you, staring, waiting.

“Oh, no,” you said. You couldn’t even imagine the scolding you were about to get. “Oh, shit.”

“It’s okay,” said Fred and gently grabbed your shoulder. “Come inside the charms.”

You stepped inside, keep staring at George in the garden. He didn’t move an inch. Fred saw your anxious face and leaned closer.

“I’ll talk to him, okay? I’ll…”

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s… I’ll do it.”

You started walking, nervously biting your tongue. As you got closer, you could make out George’s expression. His face was pure rage and he was panting. You had never seen him this angry.

When you were only a few feet away, Fred stepped forward.

“George, before you start —”

“Shut up,” answered George, not taking his eyes off you. His voice was ice cold. Fred frowned; he didn’t let it end here.

“Now, listen —”

“I said,” George’s voice was shaking from the restrained anger. “Shut up.”

“It’s okay,” you said hastily, recognising that nothing could be done. You turned to Fred. “Go. Go home.”

“What are you —”

“It’s okay, Fred,” you said. “Really. Just go.”

Fred looked quite uncertain. He was staring for a few seconds, then he seemed to accept your request. He turned to George again.

“Don’t be so hard on her.”

“Leave.”

Fred fell silent, but you could see that he was about to say some nasty things to his brother. Instead, he waved his wand, turned back into his ginger self and walked towards the border. When he stepped outside, he disapparated at once. “What’s this?” said George in a cold tone, pointing at your purple hair. Your voice was really high as you answered.

“Disguise.”

“Disguise,” said George after you waved with your wand and turned back to your normal self. “You two planned this out nicely, didn’t you?”

“We…”

“How could you?” he yelled and suddenly the words got stuck in your throat. You wanted to disappear. “Do you have any idea what I’ve gone through?”

“I…”

“One hour! We agreed on one hour! What do you think was going through my head when Fred didn’t come back after one hour?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. His fury scared you.

“You don’t know? Try again!”

“That…” your eyes started to fill up with tears. “That something’s wrong.”

“Brilliant answer, Y/N. And how do you think I felt?”

“I d-don’t know.”

“Answer me.”

“W-worried.”

“Oh, worried is not even close. But let’s continue. When Fred didn’t appear another hour later, what do you think I thought?”

You shook your head in tears. George continued, cruelly.

“Nothing? Then how do think I felt when I came here to check if everything was all right but I saw the empty house instead?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. Tears started running down your face.

“I thought you were dead!” yelled George in rage. “I thought you were murdered! Would you like to be murdered, Y/N? Look at me! Would you?!”

“No,” you sobbed. George didn’t care.

“Then how could you be so irresponsible, Y/N? How? Do you have any idea —”

“We were c-careful!”

“I don’t give a damn!” he roared. “I would’ve never thought that you would be so careless, so imprudent to risk your own life! Don’t you listen to the radio? Don’t you hear how many muggleborns are killed? Or — do you think it’s just a game, do you think I come here only once a month as a joke?”

“No…”

“I was worried sick!”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same!” you shrieked. “The famous George Weasley would have just stayed put for months, wouldn’t he?”

“I am not the main target of the whole fucking Ministry!”

“That’s not my point!” you cried. Finally, you found your voice. “You have no idea what’s it like, being here, not doing anything all day but listening to the radio listing all the people who disappeared or died! You call that a life? I don’t have a life! I am locked up here, and yes, I should be grateful and I am grateful but I’m suffocating here! And I can’t feel anything but guilt, knowing that while others are on the run I still don’t appreciate enough to have my own room and sleep in a bed every night! You know what’s the worst? Everyone, every single person, you included keeps telling me to hold on until the end, until the good times come but… George, when will the good times come? For how long do I have to stay in hiding? A year? Five? Or ten? What kind of life is that? And I can’t do this anymore… I can’t… I don’t… I don’t know what to do and… I’m lonely, I’m so miserably lonely, I’ve seen you four times in five months and…. and… who says we’re gonna win? Who says it’s a guarantee that we’re gonna get our lives back? Who says You-Know-Who’s gonna loose and I won’t have to stay inside for ever?”

You sat down in the sand, trying to muffle your sobs. You couldn’t believe the amount of times you had cried in the past months. You felt yourself on the verge of insanity. Not because of the crying, no. Because of all the things that made you cry.

You felt a hand on your knee as George sat down, too. His voice was low.

“Why haven’t you told me this?”

“I’m telling you now,” you sniffled. You hid your face into your hands. George tightened his grip on your knee.

“You still shouldn’t have gone out today.”

“I know. Don’t punish F-Fred for it. It was my idea.”

“I’m gonna have a word with him, don’t you worry.”

“But it was —”

“I don’t care. Y/N…” he let out a groan. “Y/N, you have no idea what I felt when I saw the empty house. When I thought… I’ll never forgive you for this. Never.”

“I k-know.”

“Good. Now, listen to me because I’m only going to say this once. Everything’s going to be all right.”

“Oh, shut it,” you sobbed. “You keep saying that but nothing’s all right.”

“I trust Harry.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s gonna succeed.”

“I trust that he will.”

He spoke with so much confidence, with so much strength that it made you feel even weaker than before. You knew you were only a shadow of your normal self and yes, while George was here, telling you all this, you could almost believe it. But he was going to leave as always, leaving you alone with your thoughts again only to appear a month later. You couldn’t handle it anymore. You needed him.

“Stay,” you said suddenly, barely louder than a whisper.

“What was that?”

Your lip trembled as you looked him in the eye.

“Please stay.”

“Y/N…” suddenly his face changed; he looked extremely remorseful. “You know I need to go back.”

“Please…” you begged, tears running down on your cheeks again. “I’m begging you.”

“Love…”

“Please…” you grabbed onto his jacket. You knew you looked absolutely pathetic. You didn’t care. “Just for tonight. Please.”

He gently wiped your face. His touch made you shiver.

“Y/N, I… I can’t…”

“Don’t…” you sobbed. “Don’t leave me alone…”

He was fighting an internal battle. You took his hand, desperately pleading.

“Please… Please, George…”

He took his time examining your face, brushing a piece of hair out of the way, then cupping your cheeks. His touch was so warm, and you missed it so much… Then he kissed you, gently and carefully and you knew that this was goodbye, that this was his way of letting you go without words…

“I need to go home,” he said and you cried. “But… But I’ll come back.”

“W-what?” you said, not believing your ears.

“I’ll come back tonight, okay? But I need to go home first. Talk to Fred, arrange a few things…”

“No,” you started shaking your head. “No, you… you’ll promise but you won’t come back…”

“I promise you I’ll come back,” he said, looking deeply in your eyes.

“No…”

“Do you trust me?”

You didn’t answer. You shook your head in despair.

“Do you trust me?” he said again, more firmly.

You wanted to. You wanted to trust him so bad.

“Yes,” you lied.

“Trust me,” he said with another soft kiss. “Only tonight, okay? This is an exception.”

“Sure,” you mumbled. It didn’t matter. You knew he wouldn’t come.

“Okay,” he said and he stood up. He helped you up, too. “Go back into the house, all right? Don’t leave, you understand me?”

“Yes,” you said, barely audible. He cupped your cheeks again.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you said again.

“Good. Now go.”

You kissed him goodbye, stretching the moment for as long as you could. Then you turned away without meeting his eyes again, and wiping yours, you walked into the house. You could hear the sound of disapparation and you knew that he was gone.

And you waited. Because even though you knew he wasn’t coming back, even though you knew that he had promised only to make you calm down, you couldn’t help but hope.

When Bill and Fleur came home and you had dinner, you stayed awfully quiet. You felt sick and tired, you were exhausted and drained. More than once you caught yourself staring out of one of the windows of the house with tears in your eyes. Finally, around nine o’clock you couldn’t take it anymore and went to bed.

And you waited. Constantly wiping your wet cheeks you waited. Being disappointed after every passing minute you waited. Every now and then you looked at your necklace but it wasn’t glowing. George wasn’t thinking about you. He wasn’t coming back.

Around one in the morning you felt the tiredness taking over your body; you could barely keep your eyes open. It was really hard to accept the truth. You kept dazing off and jerking awake again, just to realize that you were alone, maybe more alone than you had ever been. And this feeling travelled through your body, poisoning every inch of you, and you were hurting, more than you had ever been hurt before.

But then, something happened. You were on the verge of sleeping again, when you heard footsteps on the corridor outside your room. You didn’t dare to move. It was Bill. You were sure. Maybe it was morning already and they headed for work again.

Your door creaked. You raised your head at once and saw a tall, ginger figure entering the room. In the dark, only with the moon shining through your window, he looked like a heavenly presence. You weren’t even sure if he was real or you were dreaming already. But then you decided that you didn’t even care.

He moved. He kicked off his shoes, he took off his jacket. He moved the covers and he climbed into bed next to you. His firework scent filled the room, embracing you, filling up the hole in your soul. He wrapped his arms around you as you moved to rest your head on his chest. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Everything seemed to fall into place. You felt his fingers in your hair, gently brushing your face. And after four months of lonely nights you finally heard him whisper again:

“Sweet dreams.”

#harry potter #george weasley fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #imagination #imagine george weasley #george weasley imagination #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #georgeweasley #george weasley #fredweasley #fred weasley #fred and george #fred and george weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagination #gred and forge #weasley twins #hermione #ginny #ron #ron weasley #weasley #weasley family #hogwarts #hogsmeade #hp #hp fanfic