#you could have shrugged it off you could have GROWN A PAIR and FOUGHT BACK but you just ran and cried for mommy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mismatched-sockss · 1 month

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Kiss it better

» Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!BAU!Reader » Wordcount: 2,4k » Warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, non-sexual nudeness and touching (except for maybe a short allusion but emily turns reader down), reader has female anatomy (breasts are mentioned), mentions of unsub beating up reader and the resulting injuries, reader takes unspecified pain medication, pet names (honey, my love, baby) » A/N: no detailed body description --- pls take a look here for more info about my reader descriptions in general

You tried to muffle the pained groan when you leaned into the shower to turn the water on, so Emily wouldn't hear. You didn't want her to worry her again. Still, not even five seconds later she slithered into the bathroom, almost slipping on the floor with her socked feet as she ran to the door.

"What are you doing?", she asked warily, her brows furrowed as she watched you like a hawk.

"Taking a shower?" You slowly turned to her and simultaneously started to unbutton your shirt. Your knuckles ached slightly from the movement, but the pain was not bad enough that you would have to stop.

"Yes, I can see that. Why are you doing it alone?"

"Because I'm a grown woman and can tak- ow!" Pain shot through your whole upper body when you shrugged the shirt off and moved your arm wrong. You tried to breathe through the pain and shot Emily a thankful smile when she helped you to fully remove your shirt.

She gasped when she saw the full extent of your injuries when she turned back to you after she threw your shirt into the laundry basket. She had been busy dealing with the Unsub and the local police earlier when the EMTs checked you, so she only knew what happend from what you told the team. This was the first time she saw the result of what the man had done to you.

Hotch had sent you to interview a potential witness, but when you knocked on the door the guy freaked when he saw your credentials. You fought with him but he got a couple of good kicks in once he had you on the floor.

Luckily you only had a couple of small wounds were the skin on your knuckles had split from the punches you were able to land, a cracked rib or two and a slight concussion. The big bruise that covered your right side looked really bad; it reached over half your stomach and your ribs up to your shoulder blade, shining in an angry mixture of different shades of red and purple.

As long as you moved with caution the pain was manageable so far and the bruises looked a lot worse than your injuries actually were. You could only imagine how bad it must look to Emily right now.

"Oh honey", she breathed out as she stepped closer. She reached out for you, her fingertips just barely touching the skin of your shoulder as she traced them along the bruise. Even though the bathroom had gotten warmer as it slowly filled with the steam from the hot water, her touch send a shiver down your spine and goosebumps started rising on your skin. "I'm so sorry. I should have gone with you."

You smiled at her as you took her hand between yours. "It's not your fault, okay?" You squeezed her hand and started to draw soothing circles on her skin with your thumb. "We had no way of knowing that Keller was the Unsub, when I left to interview him. And I was the one who insisted I would be fine on my own. Also, you already were halfway to the M.E.s office by then, so you wouldn't have been there either way."

"Still. Reid could have gone to talk to the M.E. alone. Then I could have gone with you." Emily raised her other hand to your cheek and softly stroked her thumb over your cheekbone. "I don't like seeing you hurt."

"I know, baby. But I'm okay." You crooked your head to the side as you leaned into her palm and rolled your eyes as you corrected yourself, because physically you were far from okay. "Okay, more like I'll live."

"You better...", she pouted.

You laughed and after she joined in, a sign that the tension was slowly leaving her, you leaned in to close the space between you both and kissed her.

Emily smiled when you parted and nodded her head to the running shower. "Let's get you cleaned up." She helped you to take off the rest of your clothes and then took off her own so she could join you in the shower. She insisted to do all the work and ordered you to "just stand there and look pretty."

The both of your stepped inside the shower stall and a deep sigh left your lips when the warm water hit your skin, immediately relaxing your tense muscles. The water pressure was light enough that it didn't hurt when it landed on your skin.

Emily reached behind you to grab one of the bottles and signaled you to turn around and face away from her, before she flipped the lid and squeezed some of the flowery smelling stuff into her hand. You closed your eyes when she started to shampoo your hair, her fingers gently massaging your head. She giggled when you hummed. “Feels good?”, she asked. You just hummed again and let your head fall back. When she was done with the shampoo, she unhooked the shower head and rinsed your hair out, then she worked some of the conditioner in as well. Every step - shampoo, rinse, conditioner, rinse - she softly massaged your scalp.

She proceeded to lather her hands up with shower gel. While she was doing so she planted a small kiss onto your right shoulder, right above the edge of your bruise. Emily's hands glided over your skin, washing your arms and your back, and she made sure to move over your injuries as softly as she could so she wouldn't hurt you.

By the time she made you turn back around, her touch had done much more to you than just washing your body. With a new portion of shower gel she started on your collar bones and worked her way down, over your breasts and stomach.

Your breathing quickened and you put your left hand on her waist to pull her closer. You tried to kiss her, but Emily turned her face away and chuckled. “Nope.”

“Mean”, you said and pouted. She kissed your nose before she bend down to wash your legs.

"I'm not being mean, but you are hurt. You'll have to wait until you're better, my love." She looked up at you and the sight alone - Emily on her knees in front of you and the way she was looking into your eyes, paired with her hands on your thighs - almost drove you insane. Like you said. Mean.

You groaned and rolled your eyes playfully. "Why do you have to be so responsible?"

"Because I love you and because I'm your boss."

"Just because you've been in the BAU longer than me, doesn't make you my boss”, you laughed.

Emily shrugged, a wide smile on her lips. "Tomato, tomato. It's pretty much the same thing."

After the both of you were done in the bathroom - freshly showered, bodies lotioned and dressed in comfortable clothes - Emily gave you some pain killers and sat you down on the couch so she could apply new bandages on your hand.

“It's really not that bad”, you said. She held your right hand in both of hers, examining your knuckles - split skin accompanied with light red bruises that were already turning purple.

She shook her head. “It's bad enough. Just let me do this, please?” Emily didn't wait for your answer, didn't even look up at you, before she dabbed some disinfectant on your knuckles; then she wrapped the new bandage around your hand.

“Okay”, you breathed out, giving in. You could tell she still blamed herself that you got hurt, heard it in the way her voice had cracked just now. If dressing your wounds and tending to your every needs would help that she felt better about it, you'd let her.

You didn't blame her. Or even Hotch. The only person at fault was Keller. But you knew, that if the roles were reversed and Emily would have gotten injured in the field while you weren't around, you would blame yourself as well. Probably even if you would have been around.

So you let her do her thing. You let her fix you something to eat, let her wrap you up in a cozy blanket and let her brush your hair. You would lie if you would say, that you didn't like it.

It was still early enough in the evening that you had time to cuddle up on the couch with each other and watch TV while sharing a tub of ice cream. Emily had you sitting between her legs, your back to her chest, so she could hold you without you having to lie on your side. One of her hands had found its way back into your hair, her fingers playing with your hair and untangling the knots that were back in your hair after she had brushed it earlier.

You had stopped paying attention to the TV a long time ago, fully focusing and enjoying her touch. From time to time you felt her planting a quick kiss here and there - the side of your head, your neck, your shoulder.

Slowly but surely it lulled you to sleep, you eyelids getting heavier by the minute. You adjusted your position, turning your head to the side to lean your forehead against her neck. Just when you were about to drift off, your hand slit off Emily's thigh and it collided with the empty ice cream container next to you. You jumped, not because it hurt your hand but because it had startled you in your half conscious state. Immediately after you doubled over in pain; which you regretted the second you did it as it only made it worse.

“Woah, hey, hey.” Emily grabbed your shoulders to hold you steady.

Tears shot into your eyes and you whimpered. It felt like your whole right side was on fire. Now with the sudden movement and since you had rested for a while, your more than sore muscles ached even more than they had before.

A sob fought its way out of your throat and before you knew it, you were full on crying. The crying didn't make it better: your head started to pound again, your side got worse as your body shook with every sob and when you started to hyperventilate your ribs violently protested against having to hold your lungs in.

Emily held you against her, making sure to not hurt you any further of course, and brushed the hair from your forehead. She stroked your hair as she was trying to calm you and she whispered “Shhh, it's okay... It's okay. Just breath.” into your ear over and over again. It hurt her, that she couldn't do anything to help you, to ease your pain. To take the pain away.

It took a while for you to calm down, until your breath evened out and your sobs stopped, only soft whimpers leaving your lips now. Emily asked you if she could get you anything and when you asked for painkillers, she sighed and kissed the side of your head. “It's too early to take another dose. I'm sorry, baby. We-”

“I don't care”, you cried. “Please...”

For a short moment she fought with herself. She wanted to help you, but you only had taken the last pill about two hours ago; the prescription said to wait at least four hours between doses. But with one look into your eyes, she dismissed all caution and nodded. If it only had been 30 minutes, it would have been a different kind of story. And not keeping to the advised time frame one time, shouldn't hurt.

“Okay”, Emily breathed out and carefully got up to get the medication and a glass of water. When she came back, she took a seat next to you and placed the pill in your hand. You took it and after drinking some of the water you gave her the glass back. “Thank you.”

“Of course”, she said and placed the glass down. “Why don't we get you into bed, huh?”

You just nodded. All you wanted to do right now was sleep. You were so tired. From the day, from the crying, from the pain.

“Do you want to go now, or do you want to wait a moment for the medication to work?”, she asked and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. God, you hoped the pain killers would work their magic quickly.

“Now please”, you said in a low voice.

Emily took your hand and helped you stand up, walking you slowly over to your shared bedroom. You stopped at your side of the bed, waited for her to pull back the blanket and then carefully laid down with her help.

“I'll be right back”, she told you, once you were all set. While she was gone, you closed your eyes and hoped, that your pain would stop soon. It had dulled a bit by now and lying down had helped your body relax. Right now, your headache was hurting the most in your body. Luckily it had stopped pounding in the rhythm of your heartbeat, but there was still a constant, sharp pain that felt like your head was about to split open.

You laid your wrist over your eyes - the bandage felt both soft and rough on your skin – and you kept it there, not moving it even when a soft clink on your nightstand indicated Emily's return; presumably with a fresh glass of water. You could hear her walking around the room and shutting off the big room light before she climbed into bed.

She softly touched your wrist and moved it away from your face so she could hold your hand in both of hers in between your bodies. “Are you feeling better yet?”

You turned your head to look at her, watching her pull your hand closer to her face and planting the softest kisses on your bandaged knuckles, one by one. You smiled at her. “A bit, meds are slowly kicking in, I think.”

“Good”, Emily said as she smiled back at you from behind your hand. “I'm glad. Try to get some sleep.” She sat up slightly and supported her weight on her elbow so she could lean down. First, she kissed your lips, then she planted a kiss on your cheek and one on your eyebrow.

“Good night.”

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #emily x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #ghosts can write #❤️ e.p.#--- mismatched🧦

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ch3rrytales · 1 year

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take care of yourself - remus lupin

a/n: hi everyone, i'm florie! i used to have another writing blog but i've sort of grown out of what i used to write so i thought i would start off fresh. so here's a quick little remus blurb for you :) requests are open. thanks for reading and all support and criticism is appreciated! (unedited)

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: you just wanna take care of your boyfriend. your boyfriend is a stubborn git who thinks he can take everything on all on his own.

word count: 893

warning(s): none as far as i'm aware

You skipped up the steps to the girl’s dormitories, books still heavy in your arms. You longed for a warm cup of tea and the comfort of your bed, OWLs prep was steadily chipping away at your energy and you were sure you would practically burst into tears at the next mention of them.

As you reached your door you could hear a faint grumble coming from inside, so before you entered you cracked it open a sliver and peeked in, finding it odd that someone would be inside as none of your roommates shared a free period with you.

With a quick scan of the room, which appeared to be empty, you shuffled inside, toeing off your shoes and tossing your books onto the large mound of blankets atop your bed. When your books landed however the mound rustled and a pained groan cut through the room making you jump against the wall, a squeak of fear slipping past your lips.

With your body rigidly pressed against the wall and your wand clutched tight in your hands you called out, “Sirius, if you’re trying to scare me again, I swear to Merlin I’ll cut off all your pretty hair. It stopped being funny after the first 4 times.”

A head of sandy curls peeked out from the blanket and you felt relief seep into your bones.

“S’just me, darling.” Remus mumbled, his voice much fainter than you were used to.

You sighed and walked over to your bed, Remus haphazardly kicking his feet until your books fell to the floor.

“Sorry,” you winced, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

“I’m fine.” he responded, opening the blanket as an invitation to join him. “M’sorry I scared you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

You climbed in beside him and he immediately wrapped himself around your body, the action uncommonly needy of him.

“Are you alright?” you queried, twisting around in his grasp so you could see his flushed face.

He huffed and twisted his fingers into your hair, “Actually, I feel quite shit.”

“Sore?” you questioned, a genuine pout coming to your lips at the thought of the constant pain your sweet boyfriend was in.

Remus laughed weakly and tightened his hold on you, “Always.” he replied. “But, that’s not it…it’s my head. S’been killing me since I woke up this morning.”

His eyes looked glossy as you looked up at them and you were suddenly aware of the intense heat radiating off of his skin.

“Do you have a fever, Rem?”

He shrugged and looked to the ceiling.

“C’mere.” you cooed, sitting up. “Lemme check.”

“Doesn’t matter, love.” he protested. “I’ve got an OWL in 30 minutes, can’t miss it. Jus’ needed to see you before I go.”

You rolled your eyes and took his face in your hands. “Who cares about the bloody OWL’s when my boyfriend is sick?”

He raised his eyebrows as if in disbelief, but you could see the fondness lingering in his irises.

“The world doesn’t stop turning just because I’m sick.” he argued.

“Mhm,” you agreed. “It also won’t stop turning if you let someone take care of you every once in a while.”

He ducked his head to hide the grin he was biting back. He was never quite sure what he did to deserve you but he found that questioning it was a rabbit hole he best stay away from.

You pushed the hair off of his forehead and leaned forward, centimeters away from his face.

“Nuh-uh.” he fought, leaning back. “You’re gonna get sick.”

You used his temporary weakness to your advantage and pulled him back to you firmly until your foreheads were pressed together.

“Stop whining.” you whispered fondly. “M’just checking your temperature.”

‘You gotta thermometer in your forehead that I don’t know about?” he teased, his breath fanning over your bottom lip.

“You’re burning up.”

He bumped your nose with his own and smirked lamely, “You too, doll.”

“Don’t flirt.” you scolded. “I’m assessing, Rem.”

You pecked the tip of his nose, and pulled yourself off of the bed heading towards your dresser where you had stashed a pain draught for next month’s full moon.

Remus burrowed himself further in the blankets, immediately missing your body against his. “What’s the diagnosis then?”

You plopped onto the edge of the bed, “Probably just a little head cold.” you decided. “You can take this.”

You handed him the little bottle.

“Don’t need it.” he dismissed. “I need you to stop playing doctor and c’mere.” He opened his arms beckoning you to him.

Ever appeasing, you crawled into his arms and laid your head on his sweater clad chest.

“You still have to take it.” you insisted.

He rested his chin on your crown and breathed in your peachy shampoo. “I don’t need some measly pain medicine, just need m’girl is all.”

“Rem,” you whined, pouting against him.

“Alright, fine.” he huffed. “You know, you’re always getting your way w’me?”

“Mhm.” you nodded. Grinning as you could feel his chest move swallowing the draught.

He pushed his hands under your shirt, rubbing up and down a few times before resting his hands against the bare skin of your back, and kissing the top of your head lovingly.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way, love.” he admitted, finally letting his eyes close.

#remus lupin #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #marauders imagine #maruaders x reader #marauders fluff

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notiddygxthgf · 1 year

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𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙈𝙊𝙉𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍 !

synopsis: the one where you have the hots for your dealer, and Wakasa is always eager to please a customer. (don't let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband.)

pairings: wakasa imaushi x f!reader, light takeomi x reader

content warning: smut, prn with some plot, car sex, cheating, oral sex, sneaky link, sexual tension, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, sex while high, consensual drug use, mentions of abuse, waka is a FREAK, MDNI

word count: 4.5k

authors note: shit is about to get real hehehe... comment suggestions on what yall wanna see in the next chapter (iykyk ;)) thank u all for the support!

YOU HAD BEEN AVOIDING HIS TEXTS for a week or so now. Actually, that was a lie. There was no “so”; you knew exactly how long you had been ignoring his texts. It had been a week and two days.

Waka

| i hope u got home safe doll

| gn

Delivered 1w ago

Waka

| hey u ok?

Delivered 1w ago

Waka

| call me when u get the chance

| i wanna talk to u

Delivered 2h ago

You stared blankly at the phone screen.

Takeomi strolled into the room. Setting his phone on the dresser next to a glass of whiskey left unfinished from last night along with a pack of cigarettes, he shrugged his coat onto the floor. You watched his chest heave as he sighed with relief. He slicked his hands back over his hair, laying down a few strays.

“You okay?” You asked. Normally you wouldn’t – you didn’t want to be the one that anger was directed towards, and Takeomi was like a ticking timebomb – but today was one of his good days. “You seem tense.”

You felt your own shoulders tense as his weary eyes met yours, cold and unreadable. To your surprise however, he answered.

“Shit day at work,” he sighed again. He approached the edge of the bed, and then took a seat. His hands began working at the first few buttons of his shirt. He glanced back at you. “You want to help me get my mind off of it?” he asked, clearly hinting at something more.

You didn’t want to. Not really. But, shit, the guilt from last week was eating you up inside. You figured it was the least you could do.

You clicked your phone off, ignoring the way the screen lit up for a brief moment as you went to flip it over. With a slight tilt of your head, you offered, “Come over here then.”

Takeomi grinned.

You felt your whole body jolt upward as he pressed into you. The weight of a fully grown man against your chest – squishing your sore breasts into your ribs in a way that was nothing short of agonizing – wasn’t one of your favorite feelings, to say the least. No, you weren’t a fan of that.

Nor were you a fan of the harsh and brutal pace he had set. His hips slapped your ass with a bruising fervor. He had your arms pinned around the pillow.

Sex with Takeomi wasn’t the same as it used to be. What used to be night after night of passion-filled movement, words of unadulterated praise soon became hard, bland sex, devoid of love or affection.

Takeomi’s hands gripped your hips with such force that you knew it would leave scars. He growled, “You like that, you whore?”

“Yeah,” You sighed. You didn’t, really, but you didn’t want him to know that. Instead, you kept your eyes trained on the ceiling. Anything to avoid eye contact. You feared the worst, although you weren’t sure what that entailed. Perhaps he could read your mind, peer into your soul from your eyes like tiny windows and see you in the backseat of a benz getting your guts rearranged by his least favorite cohort.

As his thrusts became more erratic, more harsh, you knew he was close. You weren’t.

His hands found your chin, forming a light grasp on your neck and then bringing your attention to him. Your vision was blurred a little as you fought back memories. Memories of a certain blond tearing you up from the inside, memories of lilac eyes peering deep into yours, pulling at the string of your resolve as he took you further and further away from your morals.

And when you glanced up, you swore you could see him for a moment. You swore that for a moment it was him hovering over you, sweat rolling down his tatted chest and arms while he drove into you.

That it was his strong arms braced on either side of you. Perhaps he would reach over to hold your hand.

“Such a good slut,” Your boyfriend purred – though it was sort of odd. It sounded like him, but when you glanced up at him once more you knew it wasn’t. His pretty face was dusted with a gentle, rosey hue – and, God, he smelled amazing. Wakasa licked his lips, glancing down at your exposed chest before staring at you with an almost feline hunger. He sighed, “You feel so good.”

You felt yourself begin to smile. It felt nice, actually. You fought the urge to say his name.

Quickly shaking your head, you tried to ground yourself. Focus, you said.

Takeomi groped your breast. “Shit, baby,” he groaned. “I’m gonna cum.”

You finally pulled together the strength to look at him. Throwing your arms around his neck, you braced yourself for impact.

Bzzzzzt-

Takeomi looked towards the nightstand. His phone was buzzing. Though the screen was flipped over, the faint blueish light reflected off its surface.

With an agitated sigh, he paused his movements, reaching over your naked body for the device. He lifted it up, checking the screen to see who had decided to call him at that particular moment in time.

Incoming Call: Wakasa Imaushi

You felt your heart sink.

Takeomi groaned, pulling out of you with enough sudden force to tear a gasp from your lungs. He sat up, raised the phone up to his ear, and then said – with all the kindness of a man who had just been interrupted mid-sex, “What do you want?”

You tried your best to hear his response, thought it sounded muffled. You could hardly hear him over the incessant beating of your nervous heart.

With a slight raise of his brow, your boyfriend shifted away from you. “Yeah, why?”

He spared you a sideways glance.

Shit, you thought. He knows. He knows.

“Yeah, I’ll be right over, give me like…” Here he trailed off. You tried to ignore the way his eyes befell your bare body. “Ten minutes.”

He hung up, and then he sighed. There was a brief silence – during which Takeomi slipped out of bed. He began reassembling his outfit. “I gotta go, toots,” he said.

“What happened?” You asked, sitting up. You tried to seem like you were concerned about him. In reality, you just wanted to make sure Wakasa hadn’t told him about the… business meeting the two of you had had.

Takeomi slid his jacket on over his wrinkled shirt, and for the hundredth time, he told you, “Work shit.”

You pursed your lips. You hated it when he said that shit.

Before you could pry more details out of him, he was on his way out. The door shut behind him with a loud thump.

You sighed. For the hundredth time, it seemed, but there was nothing else you could do. The cold air on your bare skin was a harsh reminder of your stance in your boyfriend’s life. He didn’t even care enough to stay behind and cover you up.

So you pulled his sheets over your own cold body, nestling into the pillows and relishing in the silence that followed the departure of your boyfriend. Extending a hand out towards the nightstand, you felt around blindly for the pack of cigarettes he had left behind. You reached for the lighter you knew he always kept in his bedside drawer with the other.

You considered, although very briefly, the possibility of running after your boyfriend. There was a slim chance that Wakasa was telling him all about your endeavor with him, of course. You figured that at this point, there was nothing more you could do to change the situation, so why bother?

Flipping open the red pack, you produced a slim cancer stick, rolling onto your back and then holding it with your teeth.

After the week you’d had, you could use a smoke.

The lighter clicked a few times before you were able to actually light up. The end of the cigarette sizzled as you pulled from it. The warmth blossomed across your cheeks and down your throat. You blew it out with a relieved sigh.

Before you could relish in the feeling for too long, you felt your phone going off beneath your head. You clamped your teeth down on the cig, digging around beneath the pillow until you produced the device.

The brightness was turned all the way up. You winced slightly before your eyes actually adjusted to the screen.

Incoming Call: Waka

And there it was again – that shitty, sinking feeling in your gut.

All of a sudden, you understood why your boyfriend had answered the phone so angrily. The appearance of his name on your screen had you shifting uncomfortably.

Should I?

No. Let’s not open that can of worms.

But no one’s around…

You glanced at the screen, biting your lower lip between your teeth.

Fuck it. You picked up on the last ring.

“Hey,” you said. God fucking dammit, why did that sound so casual?

You heard him rustling around on the other end of the call.

“Hey.”

You took another hit. Then you exhaled. “What just happened?”

He laughed. That devilish little laugh of his. “You’re inside, right?”

“Inside where?” You asked. In retrospect, you should have known better.

“ Take’s place,” he deadpanned, like that much should have been obvious.

You let the silence build up before you answered. “I… Yeah, uh… yeah, I’m inside.”

“Come outside,” he said. “I’m waiting for you.”

Then, rather stupidly, you felt yourself answer, “Okay.”

The silence was thick, palpable, and extremely uncomfortable. You sat in the passenger seat with your hands folded neatly in your lap. Right now, you were counting the stitches on some of the accents on the leather dashboard. You were at 23 so far, but realistically it could have been any number. You were just trying to keep your eyes down and away from the devil in the seat next to you.

You felt his gaze burning a hole into the back of your head before you heard him.

“We gonna talk about why you’ve been ignoring my calls?” He asked earnestly, but the domineering undertone had you squeezing your thighs together.

Stop that.

The faint aroma of his cologne was dizzying, notes of amber, fruit, and spice whipped together in one delightful elixir that had your head spinning a mile a minute. He smelled of nicotine. The way you had been thinking about him, he could have been made of it.

“Sorry,” was all you could muster up.

Wakasa stared out past the windshield, onto the street below, the same place he had picked you up the first time the two of you had hooked up. It looked different now in the middle of the day–

The first time?

You scolded yourself for thinking that way. First? There wouldn’t be a second.

“You had me worried, you know,” He sighed. His voice sounded different today. Maybe it’s because this was the first time you’d been this close to him while sober.

Close. You were suddenly hyper aware of that fact. The fact that his arm was braced on the same armrest that was pressing against yours. Face flushed, you averted your eyes.

A hand on your arm roused you from your reverie. Your eyes traced it back to Wakasa.

His eyes were soft and, under the afternoon lighting, seemed prettier than usual. Like windows peering into a field of lavender flowers. He’d opted to leave his hair in a ponytail today. The pretty locks hung over the back of his neck and cascaded down over the top of his broad shoulders.

He looked…

No.

You found your way back to the image of his hand on your arm again. “Did you tell him?”

You saw him shift out of the corner of your eye. “No,” he said.

You felt some of the weight be lifted from your shoulders. Not much, but some.

More silence.

“Look…” you trailed off. Your mouth felt remarkably dry all of a sudden. “This can’t happen again, okay? I’m not a cheater.”

The man next to you huffed out a little humorless laugh. “Yeah?” He asked, though there wasn’t a drop of sympathy in his voice. “Takes two to tango, doll.”

“It was a mistake,” You snapped back, perhaps a little louder than you’d originally anticipated.

Wakasa poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Okay,” he said. “Well… can’t just pretend it never happened.”

“We can, actually,” came your quick retort. “And, ideally, we will.”

He sighed. You watched his grip tighten on the steering wheel ever-so-slightly.

Keeping your gaze trained out the window, you spoke again. “I’m telling you we can’t see each other again. Okay?”

For a moment, Wakasa looked like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to make you stay. Worst of all, you kind of wanted him to.

No.

Eventually, he answered. “You can pretend it never happened, but I’ll know,” he muttered. “You’ll know.”

“That’s for me to deal with,” You replied. There was another long, horribly awkward silence that spanned for a minute or two. You looked outside, at the evening sky, and then back at your lap. “Can you take me home now?”

He looked at you. With a quiet scoff, he said. “You sure, princess? Don’t have nothing else to say to me?”

You did.

You had so much to say to him. You wanted to reach out to him and tell him to leave you alone. You wanted him to beg you to stay. You wanted to part ways with him and never have to see his stupid, pretty face ever again.

You had all of these conflicting feelings all at once that had just been building up over the last week and a half, so many that your head felt full even thinking about them.

But then the reality of the situation hit you. Your feelings probably didn’t matter to him. You were a cheater, probably one of many easy hookups on his roster. This – all of this – was probably just him getting his sloppy seconds in.

You didn’t matter.

So, yes, you had a hundred thousand feelings you wanted to pour out to him in that moment, but none of them came out.

It was just a hookup, you reminded yourself. Who gives a fuck?

“No,” you affirmed. “I have nothing more to say to you.”

For a moment, it almost looked like he had an objection to make. He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Alright,” he sighed, pressing the ignition button to start the car up again. “Then let’s get you home, doll.”

You didn’t want to go home. You wanted to stay right here with him and at least bask in the last few moments you had with him before your inevitable return to a dreary relationship with a dreary person. Call it stupidity, you didn’t care.

You felt different around him. Who knows? Maybe it was just an illusion.

But one more look back at your dealer – his shoulders tense, his eyes avoiding contact with yours as he shifted the car into drive – had you reconsidering.

It couldn’t have been your imagination.

. . .

You hated formal outings. Your boyfriend being part of a criminal organization was something you tried hard not to think about when it wasn’t necessary. You hated how Takeomi brought you around like some sort of trophy wife to show you off to all of his friends. He would make you take off of work, and then he would make you put on your nicest dress and spend 3 hours on your makeup to look “presentable”. It was all so incredibly fake. It made you crazy.

Tonight was one of those nights.

You twisted the golden bottom of your Revlon stick, pushing the tip of the lipstick up and revealing a deep, rich shade of red. Pressing the flat end of the tip to your bottom lip, you carefully lined your lips with the pretty hue. You pressed your lips together and spread it around.

Praying the limousine didn’t hit a speed bump, you touched up the area just above your lips.

Another week had passed since your confrontation with Wakasa. Under any other circumstance, you would have been worried about bumping into him, But if there was one thing you knew about Wakasa, it was that he hated attending formal events.

If Waka was in fact the notorious Wakasa of Takeomi’s drunken tales – the same Wakasa who you hadn’t met before in the entire six years you’d been with Takeomi for this reason – then hell itself would freeze over before he showed his face at a formal event.

Your boyfriend’s freshly shaven face revealed itself as you tilted the little compact mirror in your hand towards him. He looked as if he was about to say something, then he paused. He looked at your lips, and then up at your eyes. “Red?”

You nodded. After applying a second coat of the color and pressing your lips together once more, you asked, “You don’t like it?”

“No, I don’t,” he hummed. He looked handsome tonight, hair slicked back and a fresh-ironed dress left unbuttoned at the top. You didn’t bother voicing these thoughts, though, because you knew they wouldn’t be reciprocated. “Red is a whore’s color.”

Recapping the little tube of lipstick, you set it down on your dresser. If only he knew.

You gazed into your reflection in the mirror in your palm. Sitting in front you was a girl you hardly recognized. Her face was done up like a porcelain doll. A long black dress cupped her breasts and her waist, cascading down over her daintily crossed legs. Her hair was done up, slick, not a stray hair in sight.

She looked perfect.

The mirror reflected the image of your boyfriend bracing a hand on your shoulder. He leaned down to press his nose against your ear and then, like a strong reminder of your place in his world, he whispered, “Don’t let me catch you so much as looking twice at another man while we’re there.”

You were Takeomi’s girl. That’s all you would ever be.

“Okay,” You swallowed. Though his words were only cautionary, you understood the deeper implication.

The limousine rolled to a stop.

“We’re here,” Takeomi said. He shifted towards the door of the limousine, popping it open and then offering his hand to you. “Be on your best behavior.”

Reminding yourself that you would be okay, you allowed him to help you out of the limousine. The skirt of your evening gown fell over your clean shaven legs, just in time to protect you against the gust of cold wind that blew past.

Pulling a strand of hair away from your lips, you allowed Takeomi to hook his arm beneath yours. The two of you began crossing the street.

You knew what being on your best behavior entailed for Takeomi. It meant that you would be pretty, poised and quiet, not to speak unless spoken to. You would stay away from the men when he was not present and stick with the women.

That was your place in this world.

Wakasa wouldn’t be there tonight. There wasn’t a lick of doubt in your mind. But still, a little part of you hoped he would show. That he would come and sweep you off your feet again and give you another whirlwind night to remember.

Your heart belonged to Takeomi. That’s how it had to be. Yet it seemed these days it wasn’t his name that was being sung deep within it. It wasn’t the image of his jet-black hair or his deep eyes that peered into yours in your dreams; it was someone else’s.

And silently you cursed yourself for letting yourself get so hung up over a man who you had only seen a handful of times, even if that man had shown you more passion in one night than Takeomi had in the last two years of your relationship with him.

Takeomi stopped in front of a security guard. The man looked him up and down before bowing slightly and stepping to the side.

Takeomi pulled the door open for you, letting you step around him to get in first.

You silently nodded your thanks.

The building looked much bigger on the inside.

The clouded scent of perfume and liquor that hit your nose the moment you entered was damn near enough to knock you off of your feet. The door opened immediately to a large room – shrouded almost completely by darkness, save for the purple and pink neon lights which flickered and flashed to the beat of the music. The bass was loud enough to rattle your ribs.

Directly in front of you on an open dancefloor was a sea of drunken, grinding bodies. Bars and tables framed the open floor. There was a stage on the furthest wall from the door, directly across from where you were standing, where half-naked women slithered around metal poles. There was a door hidden inconspicuously in the wall next to it. In all honesty, the only reason you had even been able to tell it was there in the first place was because you saw a few dancers passing through.

You slid your fur coat off your shoulders, hanging it on the coat rack next to you. The dance orgy a few yards away from you may have generated enough heat to warm the entire room, but the gust of wind that blew in from behind against the bare skin revealed by your open-back dress sent shivers rising up and down your back anyway.

Takeomi slipped dutifully through the crowd, heading towards the nearest bar. You followed close behind. He stopped in front of a staircase off to the side of the place, someplace secluded and marked off with a sign that read “VIP ONLY”.

The two of you began your gradual ascent. You struggled to keep up with Takeomi, heels threatening to catch in the steps.

You followed Takeomi to a door. He brushed past it, letting it fall back against your shoulder.

Asshole, you thought. It would have been nice if he could have pretended to care.

This room was different. There was a provocative song blaring from the speakers. The small stage you were on danced with colors from the lights below. Your heart began to race. You always got nervous in big social settings like this, even if you had done it too many times to count before.

You were anxious.

It was a stupid sentiment, but as the adrenaline began to wear off, you finally processed what was about to happen. The VIP lounge spanned lengthwise in either direction. There was a long velour couch in the middle of the room facing a stage, where a group of five or six men sat. They were being flocked by female waitresses, and the ones who weren’t serving them drinks were entertaining them in conversation.

Takeomi approached the men with his back turned to you, greeting them with a grand smile.

You eyed up the couch. Swallowing thickly, you reminded yourself of what had been eating you away this whole time. He’s not here.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you followed after your boyfriend. You could do this. It was only for a few hours.

He’s not here you reminded yourself again as their faces came into sight.

But, still – almost as if you wanted to be wrong – your eyes scanned the men on the couch.

Thank god you did.

You glanced nervously between two more men, and landed on a familiar face you really were not expecting to see tonight.

His legs were spread open so casually, as if he had made himself quite comfortable on the couch. As if he knew you weren’t expecting to see him here. His sharp lilac eyes tailed your every move; intense, unwavering, aware.

Feeling the rhythm of the music thrumming in your veins, rattling your heart against your ribcage – or perhaps it was the sight of him that did that to you – you licked your lips.

The first one to greet you was Sano Shinichiro. You knew him well. He was the leader of this successful group, the one with the little brother in a wheelchair. He stood up and offered his hand to you. “Nice to see you again. You look lovely.”

Feeling yourself soften a bit at the compliment, you let him kiss your hand. His lips pecked the spot just short of your wrists – a respectful distance. “Hi, Shin.”

“Waka, you’ve met my girl, right?” The sound of your boyfriend’s tensed voice brought you back to his side. He smiled at Wakasa, hell, he even sounded friendly. But his energy was everything but.

Blonde-purple hair tied into a bun this time – half up and half down – he was a sight to behold. He donned a form-fitting white dress shirt, though the first few buttons were undone. It seemed to be intentional. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing sleeves of those intricate tattoos of his that spanned the length of both of his arms. He had a black suit jacket draped over his shoulders, and the slacks he had on fit him in all of the right places, just tight enough to illuminate his thighs and waist but still managing to fit loose enough over his frame for it to look casual. It was an effort for you to tear your eyes away from his pants.

Wakasa’s eyes glinted with something that made heat shoot down your core. He was looking at you as if you were the only one in the room, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t awaken something you had actively been trying to suppress for the last week. He looked so pretty today, though that seemed to be the case every time you saw him. Statuesque features were illuminated by the light above you, colors dancing across the man’s face. When his eyes settled on your made-up face, a devious smile graced his lips.

“We’ve met,” He had deadpanned, though his eyes were a dead giveaway. They seemed to drink you up with a hunger that bordered on animalistic.

“Pleasure to meet you again,” You feigned a smile, offering him your hand. It was for the sake of public appearance, of course, but you couldn’t deny the way you trembled as you reached for him.

He followed your movements, staying perfectly still like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike its prey.

He was here. Against all odds, with all of your luck, he was here.

He leaned closer towards you, gently taking your hand into his warm grasp – sending sparks flying up and down your body as he did so. Bringing it up to his face, he pressed a gentle kiss just above your knuckles. Even after the warmth of his lips left your skin his touch lingered over your fingers. “The pleasure is mine.”

Gracefully plopping down onto one portion of the cushioned couch, Takeomi gestured for you to take a seat next to him. Keeping your head down, you followed.

Behave, you reminded yourself.

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serafilms · 2 years

Text

heart over head — choi beomgyu

↳ pairing – choi beomgyu x reader

↳ genre – fluff; angst; soulmate au; past lives au; reincarnation; romance; imagine; fem!reader (at least in one of the lives)

↳ synopsis – over one lifetime, or two, three, four, choi beomgyu has always been the one thing you are missing. in every life you share, and every life you don't, there is something in you that yearns for him. and you will spend every second you can looking to find him. because while your minds may not remember each other, your hearts will.

↳ warnings – suicide and depression (in one section, marked with TW); death; some light hinting at sexual themes

↳ word count – 1.9k

There is this idea that a piece of string could change your life. One single thread that stretched for miles across the Earth could be the very thing that changes your life forever. 姻缘红线 — “The Red String of Fate.”

The first time you met him, you had no interest in such beliefs.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” he had muttered, panicking as he attempted to wipe the frosting off of your shoulder.

You jerked your arm away in annoyance, pulling out a napkin from your bag to get rid of it yourself. What kind of idiot carries around a cake without putting it in a box? A glance around you at the crowded street made you scoff. Of course. Of all the strangers scurrying past, you had to be the one who he crashed into.

As you looked up to face the culprit, who was still uttering apologies faster than your mind could comprehend, you felt your anger melt away. This guy was… cute. He looked like someone you would have seen in class and admired from afar. Someone you would crush on and hold in your heart as a fantasy of young love. For someone who stubbornly refuted the idea of love at first sight, you couldn’t deny the feeling he gave you. If love at first sight was indeed real, then you were sure it would be something like this.

And he seemed to think so as well. At your silence, the boy had looked up, meeting your eyes, and the apologies evaporated from his mouth. He smiled, and the world seemed to fade away behind him.

“Wow, seems like we were destined to meet.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I don’t believe in any of that stuff.”

He tilted his head a little in surprise. “What, you don’t believe in fate? Destiny? Soulmates?”

You shrugged as you dabbed at your shirt again. “Not really.”

“Well, I, for one, think this is destiny.”

Another roll of your eyes was the only response he received.

“What? Don’t believe me?” He grinned, innocent and boyish.

“As a matter of fact, I do not,” you scoffed.

“Well, let me buy you dinner sometime, try and convince you otherwise.”

A smile encompassed your face against your will and you fought to keep it down. Damn, this guy really knew how to tear down your defences.

"Sure."

He held out the hand that wasn't covered in frosting and offered you another grin. "Choi Beomgyu."

"L/N Y/N."

And that had been the beginning of something great.

It wasn't until 24 years into your next lives that you met again. You'd been out of university, living in the real world for a few years until you got a job at the company you'd been dreaming of working for. It was your first day on the job and you could feel your stomach churning. A head popped up over your computer, from the other side of the desk, and you saw a man your age with bright eyes and floppy hair.

"Hi."

You blinked. "Hi?"

"First day?" His head still hovered over your computer, and you could only imagine him awkwardly half squatting over his chair to talk to you.

"Yeah," you said.

"I've been here a few months already, so just let me know if you need any help," the man beamed at you.

You smiled back awkwardly. "Thank you. Um, what was your name, sorry?"

"Oh! My bad," he chuckled, "I'm Choi Beomgyu."

He stretched out a hand and you took it, giving it a firm shake. "I'm L/N Y/N."

Somehow it felt as if he already knew that.

In the life after that, you had been lucky. Your parents had been best friends, and thus you had been too. You'd grown up beside Beomgyu, with every waking minute of your days spent next to him.

"I'm going to marry you one day," a nine year old Beomgyu said to you. The two of you lay on a mattress your parents had set out for you in the living room.

You felt yourself blushing but refused to show it, instead turning your face. "Yeah, right. I'd rather die than marry you."

"My mum said dying is scary though," Beomgyu frowned.

"Well, my dad says it's like going to sleep for a long time. And then you wake up, and it's like a brand new adventure!"

"Hm, if that's true, then we should practice! Let's go to sleep and see what it's like!"

Feeling drowsy yourself, you readily agreed. "Okay, goodnight Beomgyu."

"Goodnight Y/N."

He had ending up marrying you that time.

Kissing a man, a stranger, was not something you would usually do.

But there had been something familiar about him; there was something about the way he moved and kept stealing glances at you from across the bar that felt as if you had seen him before. You found yourself drawn to him like a magnet, intrigued by the longing feeling you felt in your chest. The feeling that was directed towards him.

When he finally approached you, and his arm grazed against yours, you felt the feeling grow. You wanted him next to you forever and ever and you never wanted to let him go.

So you kissed him, feverishly, as if it was the last thing you would ever do, as if you knew that this was your last night together.

Because in that life, it had been.

(TW: suicide, depression)

You could spend your entire lives searching for each other without knowing it. There were lives where you couldn't stop the hollow feeling in your chest. You were searching for something, waiting for something to make it go away, but it never came. Anti-depressants, therapy, friends, relationships – none of it helped.

There were nights you woke up crying, and you couldn't figure out why. Maybe this was all some sort of sign. If you believed in that sort of thing.

As you stood atop the building, you wondered if you were making the right choice. But where there should have been fear, or some internal meter telling you that you didn't want this, you could only feel numbness. You thought briefly of your friends and family, how much this would pain them. Perhaps they would never recover.

"I'm sorry," you whispered to the air. "I'm sorry, but I can't anymore."

And you fell.

A man joined the crowd that had gathered around the building. There were people whispering and pointing, and others trying to move away from the scene, or shield their friends and children from the sight. On the ground, bloody and broken, lay a woman. He was sure that he didn't recognise her, but something like recognition shifted through his body. The scene was horrible, terrifying and devastating, but he found himself unable to look away.

As the paramedics arrived and he watched as they covered the corpse with a sheet, he let a tear slip down his face.

(end of TW)

Choi Beomgyu was a fresh addition to your little makeshift friend group. It was the first year of university and you were still figuring out how to meet new people and make friends, but you'd managed to find a handful of people who now flocked together at every given opportunity, now including Beomgyu.

Upon his introduction into your little group, you'd found that he was in more of your lectures than you had realised. You found yourself wondering how you'd never noticed him before. Surely, with a face like that, you would've taken note when he walked into class.

Of course, now you didn't need to because Beomgyu would trail after you into every class you shared, and sit next to you every single time. He had basically glued himself to your side, and now trailed after you like a puppy. Your friends thought it was adorable and teased you constantly. Beomgyu didn't seem to mind, but you were struggling to hide how much you liked it.

It was cold out when he had invited you to go study at the library with him after you had offhandedly mentioned that you wanted to try and start studying your course material earlier. But apparently without the time pressure, it was hard to force yourselves to study, which is how the two of you found yourselves wandering the shelves at the library.

Beomgyu made a small noise of interest from behind you, making you turn around, only to see him holding up a book with a dusty blue cover.

"What is that?" You asked.

He held the book up so you could see the title. The Theory of Reincarnation. You raised an eyebrow at him.

"You believe in that sort of thing?"

He shrugged, turning the book towards him again to stare at the cover. "I don't know. Sometimes I get this feeling that I've experienced everything before. And it's kind of a cool idea, don't you think?"

You tilted your head skeptically, and replied, "I guess. But it's still just a theory without any basis."

Beomgyu shrugged again. "Shall we go back to studying?"

"Sure."

As the two of you made your way back to your table, you noticed that Beomgyu still held the book tightly in his hand. You said nothing, instead opting to open your laptop and read your textbook.

It was ten minutes later when you heard a shuffling sound and something was slid into your peripheral vision. You looked up to see the book next to your laptop, flipped open to a page. Beomgyu was looking at you expectantly.

"Read it," were his words. Eyebrow raised, you turned your attention to the page in front of you.

'姻缘红线 — "The Red String of Fate."

'It is true that reincarnation is a theory that holds little value in this world. It is often dismissed as a folk tale, a myth or legend of old to comfort those who feel at a loss of what significance their life holds. But that is, in fact, another question we must ask ourselves. What significance does this life hold? What is the reason for living, or for being reincarnated?

'There is one such theory, which can only be summarised by the word "soulmates," that suggests that there are people in this world who are destined to be with each other. They are two halves of a whole, and can only truly be complete with each other. They will feel empty when they are apart, and can spend a lifetime searching for one another.

'Perhaps this is the reason for reincarnation. To find the person on the other end of the red string.'

By the time you had reached the end of the passage, your heart was beating faster than it had been before. Beomgyu had an unreadable expression on his face.

You pushed the book back towards him gently, hesitating as you chose your next words. "Do you... ever feel like this?"

He was silent for a moment before he looked back at you. "All the time."

There was another pause, in which both of you looked at each other. Your heart was beating faster than you had ever known it to, but your breathing felt steady, and your mind was calm.

"Except," Beomgyu continued, "Except when I'm with you."

You stared at him for a moment, searching your mind. Your chest felt warm and full, and you realised that you had never quite known it to be so. There was something in his gaze, in the depths of his dark eyes that told you this was not the first time you had felt this way.

"Yeah. Me too."

#txt #tomorrow x together #choi beomgyu #beomgyu #txt imagines #tomorrow x together imagines #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #choi beomgyu imagines #beomgyu imagine #choi beomgyu imagine #txt x reader #txt imagine #tomorrow x together imagine

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neonfuturelove · 2 years

Text

Victory; DR3

Masterlist

Summary: a one shot about Dad!Daniel and your little family dynamic

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: this turned out nothing like i wanted to hence the small wordcount but alas !! thinking of maybe taking requests tbh? lemme know

A large grunt left your mouth, your cheeks puffed out angrily as you gave a pathetic thump to a giant inflatable letter A wafting around in the wind. You were cursing Dan for choosing a name with so many letters as you fought with giant foil balloons spelling out the name Victoria.

Dan stepped out into the garden with his hands held up as though he was being ordered by an authority. “What have I done and how can I help?” Dan snarked toward your clearly frustrated state.

“Fix these fucking balloons!” You walked away from its current state half tempted to give up and celebrate Vcirotia. Dan gave you a wide birth as he passed you mocking your current temper amidst the rainbow decorations surrounding you. “You know I had to go to three different shops to get all these letters, nothing but a pain in my bloody ass.” You plonked yourself on the floor cross legged beside a ‘life-sized unicorn’ which was even beginning to annoy you. How could something be life size when it didn’t exist? Ridiculous. You watched as he navigate the thing strings in and out of one another, guiding the balloons into their positions to spell out your daughter’s name.

“Isn’t she awesome?” His nose pressed on the edge of the cot to get as close to his new-born daughter as possible without disturbing her. “Man, this is insane,” you hazily stared at the pair of them from the hospital bed. Your new little family. “Hey,” Daniel stood making his way back over to you, “what are you crying for?” You shrugged unaware that you had even began crying again suddenly feeling pathetic.

“I am so drugged up, I don’t know,” you whimpered as he knelt at the side of your bed peeling back a piece of hair stuck to your forehead with sweat with a quiet laugh at your hormonal whiplash taking place. He took your hand in his and placed a kiss to the back of it.

“I’ve been thinking of a name… Victoria. It means victory,” Daniel hesitated to gauge your reaction, one thing you hadn’t agreed on easily was a name and the most he received now was a gentle twitch from your lips as you lay with your eyes half shut. “Like she’s my greatest win. Or greatest finish, some might say.” Daniel had been hanging onto that joke for a while and was visibly disappointed by the lack of reaction from his current audience. “Okay, you’ll laugh at that when you’re sober-”

“Victoria Ricciardo,” a breathy whisper as you said it aloud for the first time but a smile fell upon your lips at the way it rolled off your tongue. That was your little girl. “I like it.”

“She’s gonna be a Ricciardo?” Daniel watched as you gave a small nod and it was his turn to have a tidal wave of emotions. He watched as you lay falling into a sleep with his baby girl beside you. Instinctively watching both of your chests rise and fall with your breath accepting that was all he would do for the rest of his life, make sure that his two girls were okay.

“Voila!” Dan stepped back and admired his handywork now spelling out his daughters correct name and not something from Star Trek. “Mum said she’ll bring her in a few hours. My spidey-senses were tingling at a potential freakout from you,” you glared upward at him as he held out a hand to pick you up off the floor. “You know it is not your birthday therefore, you cannot cry – even if you want to.” His smug face leaning in to give you a small peck on the cheek as you reached him. Your shoulders instantly relaxed at the gesture before you listed off the rest of party preparations to be completed.

Within two hours the garden had been transformed into a toddler’s dreamland, with giant unicorns, rainbow streamers, a bouncy castle and enough food to make a grown man sick. You watched as Dan walked around and made sure everything was secured down safely before he made his way back to you to take in his hard work.

“Her first proper party,” Dan took your hand in his as the pair of you looked out across the garden, a giant number three in the centre of it all. You always appreciated the sense of safety and security whenever he took your hand in his. You were a team and he was by your side. A family.

“I’m already exhausted and there’s no kids here yet. Anyway, I’m going to go fix this,” you gestured at your face as you turned toward the house.

“Want me to tell Mum it’s safe to bring her round?” Dan was already getting his phone from his pocket as he asked.

“No, no. Just give it… half an hour. We can have a drink first before the madness.”

Dan smiled and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He appreciated how lonely it was for you raising Victoria whilst he’s away most of the time and as much as he treasured every minute he had with his daughter he knew how important it was to put you first at times too.

As soon as the house there was an eruption of constant noise whether it be joyous laughter, squeals as Dan bounced the children far too high or tears from bumped heads. Your nerves were on edge the entire time while Victoria yelled “higher” continually at Dan. Victoria took after Dan in the one way that made you on edge most of the time, a little adrenaline junkie with no concept of danger. In her small head nothing could be dangerous with her Daddy around but the skin around your nails told a different story. The only quiet time was when they all sat to eat lunch at which point Daniels’ mum ordered that yourself and Dan escape to a quiet room momentarily, “you can imagine this one as a kid, I know how tired you are,” Grace made a very good point.

Closing the door to the front room to try and drown out the children’s music as much as possible you both flopped onto the sofa with a huff.

“How many more of these do we have to do?” Dan rolled his neck on the back of the sofa to look at you.

“So many more,” your eyes roamed over the rows of birthday cards scattered across the floor and bags of unopened presents before locking with Dan who was still staring at you. “I’m just glad there’s only one of her,” you chuckled, Dan raising his eyebrows in agreement.

“Mummy-” you instinctively opened your arms to Victoria peering around the door. Momentarily forgetting she had a second – and more preferred – option of Dan. “Daddy… I’m tired,” she clambered onto his lap rubbing her fists into her eyes. Dan gently pulled them away and tucked her into his chest. Your heart swelled at the sight of them together; maybe a second little one wouldn’t be awful but realistically you knew it wasn’t a possibility. Victoria’s hair had lightened over the years but her dark brown eyes were the mirror image of Dan’s.

“You can’t be tired little miss, you’re the birthday girl!” Dan explained as you let out a large yawn.

“Mummy’s tired,” Victoria pointed out, looking up at Dan from under her long lashes with her big eyes that would make you cave instantly in most circumstances.

“Mummy is allowed to be tired; she looks after you all day!” Victoria squealed as Dan began tickling her, squirming around on his knee with a gleeful belly laugh escaping her. Three years on and it still gave you butterflies when Dan referred to you as ‘mummy’ like it was the greatest title you had ever been given.

A ring of the doorbell had Dan scooping Victoria up and heading toward another one of her guests. Although you were certain everyone had turned up, and it was too late into the afternoon for anyone else to be arriving. You stayed sitting gathering the energy to go out and face a crowd of toddlers once more when you heard Victoria.

“Joshy!” A high-pitched squeak had you immediately out of the room to the front door. Victoria was wriggling out of Dan with her arms outstretched toward Josh.

“Hey pumpkin, you having a good day? Hey man, alright?” Josh and Dan clapped hands in a friendly manner as Josh made his way toward you holding Victoria. A tightening in your chest watching both Dan and Josh interact in front of you. Josh eventually blocking your view of Dan as he walked toward you with Victoria sat upon on his hip. He leant down to give you a small peck on the lips. “Got off work early,” Josh answered your silent question at his surprise arrival.

“Come and see the unicorn!!” Victoria yelled into Josh’s ear excitedly, her sleepy demeanour now forgotten. Josh followed Victoria’s finger in the direction of the garden filled with children.

“I’ll go help Mum clear up the food,” Dan excused himself from you too quickly for your liking. Pinching your eyes together in anxiety at the situation you found yourself in. Granted, Josh was no secret to Dan: you had been honest about starting a new relationship and only introduced him to Victoria with Dan’s permission but you weren’t prepared for such an intimate setting to be shared with them both.

Gathering yourself together you couldn’t help but notice the abrupt silence as you entered the kitchen, Grace collecting paper plates and Dan brushing off crumbs from the table, placing a pile in the bin and heading outside. Raking a hand through your hair you watched with a small smile as Victoria paraded Josh off to her gaggle of friends like he was a shiny new toy, Dan stood to the side watching on himself as he took a swig of his drink.

“Don’t worry about him,” Graced chirped popping up from behind a black bin bag, following your eyes in the direction of a solem looking Dan.

“He wasn’t supposed to come- I just wanted it to be Dan’s day with her- I don’t even know where my phone is,” looking around exasperated as your thoughts all snowballed into one.

“You know what men are like, especially when there’s a little angel like our Victoria involved. And you.” Grace looked out to Victoria now showing off to Josh how high she can jump on the bouncy castle. “She looks like she gets on well with him, that’s all that matters.”

Sighing you head outside and stood next to Dan, arms folded staring in the same direction as he was at the party scene in front of you in silence. You could four children hanging off Josh's frame as they climbed over him, Victoria laughing and encouraging more to do so as Josh patiently allowed them.

“She knows you’re her dad, you know?” The thought tumbled from your mouth catching Dan off guard. You noticed him swallow nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “She knows, I mean, nobody else can be…”

“Josh gets on well with her. It’s fine,” echoing his mother’s sentiment but a lot harsher sounding than when Grace had said it to you.

“He’s just not you,” your breath hitched in your throat as you said it, unsure if you had said the words for yourself or on behalf of Victoria. A pang of betrayal hit your chest when Josh was looking over at you smiling at his current predicament feeling the stare of Dan's eyes in the side of your head.

You turned bravely to find Dan's focused stare on you, his eyes held so much in them but truthfully you didn't have the power to decipher any of his unspoken thoughts. The pair of you had built up such a barrier between each other to try and protect Victoria and co-parent as successfully as possible.

"I should go count there's enough goody bags before the kids leave," your attempt to walk away interrupted by Victoria tugging at your wrist dragging you over to Josh now laying on the bouncing castle getting bounced all over.

"I'll do it," you heard Dan mumble as he entered the house, refusing to watch you play happy families with someone that wasn't him.

You had your little family but it was far from perfect. The only thing that was perfect was the little girl in the midst of it all and because of that she was your own little victory.

taglist ily @readerselegance @d0ntjudgemy50shades @dr3lover @onelovelife @oyesmendes @chilwellsbitch @dr3ln4 @lace-dolphin @writing-about-current-obsessions

#daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fic #Daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo one shot #f1 fic #f1 imagine

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scenezfreak · 10 months

Note

JEFF WITH AN S/O WHO HAD A CRUSH ON HIM WHEN HE WAS LITTLE??🩷 HONESTLY THAT WOULD BE SUPER CUTE

AHHH SO CUTE OMG

Jeff the Killer x F!Reader

FLUFF!!! (Small bit of sadness but it gets better)

You adored him, the brown haired kid in your class. You both were in 1st grade, he had saved you from the dumb bullies that kept harassing you. You both quickly became friends and even had play dates, which in your little mind were actual dates. You two were inseparable, always together seemingly joined by the hip. You guys got older and you were getting ready to confess to him the next day. Arriving at school he was nowhere to be found, you heard the kids speaking, “Apparently Jeffrey moved.” “Finally, I thought he’d never leave, that freak.” Your heart sank. ‘He moved?!?!? He didn’t even tell me…’ you thought as you fought back tears.

At home getting ready for bed you sighed and thought about your day again. It didn’t seem real….you literally had nobody else…nobody would go near you because you were friends with Jeff. Laying down and covering up you let it all out, you cried, tears staining the pillow and exhaustion soon hitting you, causing you to fall asleep.

~~~~~~~~~

Finally getting your own house and moving out from your parents you were so relieved. A whole house finally to yourself, you’re all grown up now. You mentally give yourself a pat on your back. It was a long day of moving things around and unpacking, you still had more to do but gave up for the night. You laid on your bed in your almost empty room, if not for the boxes everywhere you would’ve been creeped out by how empty everything is. You stretch and cover up with the soft blanket, scrolling through your phone. You liked reading about creepy things, especially at night, it excited you and it was really interesting although nobody knew this about you, only Jeff did.

Curious you look a bit more into the towns history, apparently there was a murderer who had killed his parents and brother. You laugh a bit to yourself, “People really are getting crazier these days.” You shut your phone off and lay it on the table next to your bed, switching the light off on the lamp and turning over to sleep. Unaware of the pair of eyes that were watching you.

The next morning was normal as always, eating breakfast and unpacking. You were setting things on shelf’s and came across a picture frame, looking at it your head filled with memories…it was Jeffrey and you. Being the weirdo that you were you hugged the picture frame, “I miss you so much, Jeffrey…” you say and you put the picture frame front and center on the shelf. As you went on about your day you felt uneasy….like someone was watching you. You shrugged it off as you just not being used to this environment. Washing your dinner plate your head jolted up to look out of the window, you could’ve sworn you saw someone…you shook your head and placed the plate on the drying rack.

After your shower you got dressed in whatever comfortable clothes you could find and headed to your room, thinking about the uneasiness you felt today. You stopped as your phone buzzed, pulling it out of your pocket, it was your mom.

Mom: “How are you holding up, honey?”

You: “I’m fine, just about to head to bed.”

Mom: “That’s good, please be safe, you never know why dangers you’re out there and sleep well.”

You reply with a heart and roll your eyes, ‘sleep well..? After you just told me to watch out?’ You mentally said. Finally arriving to your room, your heart skips a beat. Not having any time to scream or run a figure emerges from the shadows and grabs your wrist, pin you to the wall and cover your mouth. You let out a grunt as your head hit the wall. You opened your eyes and saw him. His white skin, lidless eyes, and a smile carved into his face. ‘…That was the kid who killed his parents!’ You scream mentally. The guy opened his mouth, “Y/n…?” He asked as if he didn’t know wether or not that was your name. “I’m Jeff….Jeffrey woods…I’m going to let go of you now…please don’t scream.” You nodded and he backed off of you.

You stood there, shocked. Processing everything…he moved away, killed his parents, did this to himself, and now he’s right back in front of you. You couldn’t believe it…”If you really are Jeff…” you said shakily, “tell me something that only Jeff knows.” He didn’t waste a moment to tell you. “You’re obsessed with reading stories about killers.” You had to process again, your silence worrying him. “Oh Jeff-“ you said and hugged him tightly, “I missed you so much..” you said as tears leaked down your face, he hugged you back. “I missed you too…” he replied. You backed up a bit and cupped his face, tracing the scars of his smile, you look him in the eyes. “You’re…beautiful.” You say shyly and look away, your hands moving to his shoulders.

He brings his hand up and grabs your chin to make you look back at him. The eye contact was intense, seemingly nothing else mattered in that moment. “I love you, Y/n…” he whispers out and crashes his lips onto yours, you were taken aback but you didn’t mind. Wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing a hand up to grab at his now black hair to push yourself more into the kiss. You guys pull away, breathing heavily. “I love you too, Jeff…I always have” you look at him, his smile widens as he hugs you once more, his head resting on your shoulder. “I’m so happy” he says, you him in response, taking in the warmth of his hug.

That night is the night when you started dating your childhood best friend and a serial killer, 2 in 1 package, right? He started living with you, always trying to get a chance to be around you, cooking with you, cleaning with you, and even trying to shower with you. Rolling your eyes every time he asked and locking him out of the bathroom as you shower. Other than that…and him coming home with blood all over him…you were happy, finally living with the man of your dreams. Admittedly your dreams didn’t involve Jeff being a serial killer but you weren’t complaining. You loved him for who he is, even his insane side. You knew that no matter what, you had each other, and with you being a horror fanatic it worked out well, he’d tell you stories about how he killed and even described in deep detail of how it went.

#creepypasta #jeff the killer #fluff #Jeff the killer fluff #so cute

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sexcbatman · 2 years

Text

tittle cigarettes out the window ( P1 ) P2

pairing : jason todd x latino! male reader

summary : jason needed a drink of something strong and boy did he get something that intoxicated him.

warnings : mentions of alcohol and cigarettes

authors note : this is my first story so bear w me. it was like so rushed because i just wanted it out of my drafts.

Jason wasn't much a smoker, the first time he tried a cigarette it left a chalky feeling in his throat. He didn't like it but it reminded him of the polluted air of Gotham while growing up. Maybe thats why he only did it when he was stressed, probably for comfort.

That same stress that tempted him, brought him here. In this average bar that was first to come into his sights after he changed from patrol.

Swirling the glass of gin tonic on ice, he held the cigarette between his lips. Jason often spaced out, when he was younger he often day dreamed. He was a really imaginative kid, it helped him block out the bad things in life. When his parents fought he imagined he was watching a tv commercial for couples therapy. Dissociation at its finest, it was a thing he relied on the most.

“Whats up with the sad eyes?” shoes clicked in-front of him as the sound of alcohol tips pouring into the mixer and the shaking of ice caused him to look up.

Bringing the dying cigarettes out of his mouth he pushed the bud down and shrugged.

“I live in Gotham, that should say alot for you.” Jasons eyes dragged onto every inch of the you analyzing you, a bad yet good paranoid habit he picked up from bruce.

He deducted that you were obviously latino, and honestly really nice on the eyes. Swallowing thickly his eyes flickered to the your hands working on what looked like a martini.

“True, this city is very hefty on the mind but it has its beauties! Like getting robbed, what else.” you chuckled after your sentence obviously finding yourself amusing.

Deciding to drag on your sentence, Jason gave a ghost smirk, “not to mention the vigilantes.” Planting his chin onto his palm he looked up at you.

“Oh what about them, I adore the fact we have grown men and a kid jumping on our roofs in skintight suits while we sleep.Im joking im actually a really big fan of the bats and other superheros.”

This caused the todd to quirk a brow, “who's your fav ? ”

Whilst cutting the lemon slightly down you gave out a hum in thought, “Wonder Woman.”

Jason watched you place the lemon carefully on the rim of the glass and walk a seat away from him to give to a woman.

“Funny, she's mine too.”

Walking back infront of Jason you smiled, “I'm (Y/n) but i prefer (N/n).”

“Jason.” gliding his finger across the glass he swallowed thickly.

“Say I get off my shift in a couple of minutes, wanna go somewhere. Promise i'm not a kidnapper. ”

“Sounds like something a kidnapper would say.”

Letting out a laugh, you couldn't help but shake your head in amusement, “you're like 8 feet tall basically, no way I could take you.”

“You definitely could take me.” Maybe it was the slight alcohol talking because Jason didn't swing that way.... he thinks.

Raising a brow at his tone, you shook your head,“I definitely could in that way bro.”

“hot.”

Laughs were shared between the two of you for the next two minutes whilst you were getting other peoples orders. Jason was a funny guy, not to mention good looking. If he was girl you would have most definitely asked him out on a date, but he was a guy.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you shrugged on the black leather jacket on-top of your white button up whilst Jason waited outside.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x reader #red hood #male reader #latino reader #batfam #dc comics #sexcbatman

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gothgirlmahi · 2 years

Text

Carpe Noctem - Seize The Night Part 1

Pairing: Demon!Bucky x Reader

Summary: You screw up your Latin homework and end up summoning a demon. Again. Good news is he’s hot. And he makes you wanna scream, but without the s.

Word Count: 700 words

Warnings: not much here but part 2 is spicy

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

The diner wasn't too crowded. A couple tables over there was an older man sipping a coffee and reading the paper. A few booths away from you was a young couple on a date, whispering urgently to each other. You sat at your own table alone, your textbook spread open, laptop turned on and pencil writing furiously in your notebook.

You stopped and scratched your head in confusion, the pencil twirling in your free hand as you perused the words in your textbook. Latin had never been your strong suit, but you were determined to get this right. Your tongue dipped out of your mouth slightly in concentration as you read the phrase out loud.

The next second, it felt like all of the warmth had been sucked out of the room. You turned your gaze out the window and saw the sky had gone red. You huffed in annoyance before turning your gaze back to the restaurant. Everyone was frozen in their spots. The waitress was stuck refilling the older man's coffee and the young couple was frozen in their argument.

A cloud of shimmering black smoke across from you revealed someone you hadn't seen in a while.

Bucky leaned back in the chair with an easy smile on his face. He leaned over to steal a fry form your plate before looking at you seriously.

The first time this happened it was scary. The second time, it was off putting and nerve wracking. The third time was just plain embarrassing.

“Doll, this is the third time. I’m starting to think it’s on purpose.”

“No, Mr. Demon sir," you still weren't really sure how to address him, "I swear I’m just really shitty at Latin. How as I supposed to know how to say tabula.”

“You didn’t say that. You said tabla and that's not the only mistake you made. That’s why I’m here. You could have used google translate or something. That didn't even sound like Latin. If anything, it was closer to really really broken Spanish. How the hell do you accidentally summon a demon? That's talent."

“I did use google translate.”

“Apparently not well because look where I am."

“You’re giving me a lot of hostility right now and honestly I don’t need that because I’m already anxious about getting a good grade in this class.”

“You’re anxious about the class and not the demon in front of you?” Bucky was looking at you incredulously, as if he was shocked you weren't pissing your pants and crying right now. You had bigger fish to fry.

“Look, man. You’re scary but not scarier than my student loans. I literally can’t afford to fail a class this semester. And I’m supposed to graduate. Failing is not an option.”

The demon rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. Just don’t summon me again unless you want to make a deal.”

“Well clearly you speak Latin so if you helped me study this wouldn’t happen again," you told him matter-of-factly. Bucky looked at you like you had grown a second head right in front of him.

“Help you study? Have you lost your mind? Do I look like a tutor?”

You shrugged. Hmm. Maybe flattery would work?

“You look more like a really pretty fallen angel with those baby blues.”

The demon sighed deeply, a crease forming between his brow as he looked you over. You were a hopeless enough case that you even had a demon feeling sorry for you.

“Okay. I’ll help you with your fucking homework.”

You fought the urge to jump out of your seat and dance. Sure, you were shitty at Latin, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't have any ulterior motives. The truth is, Bucky was gorgeous and you wanted a slice of that. Any way you could get it.

You knew being around a demon should make you want to cry out or scream for help, but this one…was hot. You were screaming alright. But without the s.

You opened your notebook and the two of you got to work.

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

Mahi's Monster Mash

#demon!bucky #bucky x reader #sebastian stan x reader #marvel x reader #mahi's monster mash #mahi's halloween party

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duchesschameleon · 1 year

Text

tying me to you

pairing: tom “iceman” kazansky/pete “maverick” mitchell

rating: g for everyone

warnings: implied/referenced canon character death

a/n: thanks @qvid-pro-qvo for the beta and @topgun-soulmates for organizing this challenge!

Thomas Kazansky and Pete Mitchell have known they are soulmates since the first time they saw each other in the mirror at six years old.

click here to read this fic on ao3

Thomas Kazansky and Pete Mitchell are soulmates.

They haven’t always acknowledged or liked it, but it’s been true for a majority of their lives.

They’ve fought against it, ignored it, tried to break it, but fate has always brought them together. Their bond has always been strong, and only grown stronger since they first saw each other as young children.

——-

six years old

“Are you okay?”

Pete’s head snaps up, blue eyes meeting his. “Who are you?”

“I’m Thomas,” the blonde boy says, introducing himself. “I’m your soulmate I guess.”

“I’m Pete. And what do you mean ‘you guess’? You’re seeing me in a mirror, right? Mama says that’s how you know who your soulmate is.”

Thomas nods. Pete falls silent, feels his face falling again, remembers the news they’d received earlier.

“Pete, are you okay?” Tom asks again.

Pete sniffs and shrugs. “My daddy isn’t coming home,” he says softly.

Thomas’ mouth falls open in shock. “I’m sorry, Pete.”

Pete shrugs in response, still sniffling. “I gotta go, my mama’s calling me.”

“Ok. Bye, Pete.”

“Bye, Thomas.”

——-

That was a long time ago. Pete had treasured the memory at one point, the proof that he had a soulmate and there would always be at least one person who wouldn’t leave him. Couldn’t leave him, actually, considering fate had tied them together.

But believing in fate, believing in people - in Tom - got harder as Pete grew up. They didn’t see each other for a number of years, not even when Pete’s mom passed, and Pete thought that maybe he’d made the whole thing up and he really was alone. He told himself it meant nothing, that it didn’t hurt. It was better this way, because eventually Thomas would just end up being another person who leaves him.

Pete learned to control his emotions, to make sure he never had a moment of high, intense emotion that could pull Tom back to him, make him show up in the mirror again. He checked every mirror he walked by for the blonde haired boy who is his soulmate, double checking that he wasn’t there. Pete did everything he could to avoid seeing Tom again, he stopped thinking about his parents, closing the door on that grief that had brought them together the first time.

But, fate finds its ways. And nothing ever said it had to be sad emotions that brought soulmates together.

Adrenaline could work just fine.

And so as teenagers, Pete and Thomas saw each other again.

——

thirteen

“So, what was it this time?” a now-familiar voice calls out as Pete washes dirt and grime off his face.

He’s been seeing Tom more frequently the last few months, giving in to fate and letting himself hope again that his soulmate really is out there, and does care about him.

Pete feels his lips quirk up as he lifts his head to look into the mirror. To look at Tom.

But his smirk falls away into shock as he sees Tom in a suit and tie, some white fabric-wrap thing around his shoulders.

“What are you wearing?”

Tom rolls his eyes, a little fondly, and smiles softly at Pete. “It’s my bar mitzvah, remember? Praying in front of the congregation and joining the community as an adult?”

“Oh, right.” Pete blushes, embarrassed. He’d definitely forgotten that was today. “So, how did it go?”

“Pretty well, all things considered. I didn’t stumble too much and honestly, I’m just happy that parts over with. Now it’s just the fancy lunch with family.” Tom shrugged before taking a breath and raising an eyebrow at Pete. “Now, what happened to you this time?”

“Patrick Hughes bet me five dollars I couldn’t climb the tree at the park,” Pete says, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Made it up, and since he never specified I had to get down the same way I got up, I jumped about half-way down.”

“Pete,” Tom admonishes.

“Oh c’mon, I totally had it. I rolled on the landing and I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding. You have scrapes and I’m sure bruises everywhere. And that cut on your forehead looks bad.”

Pete just shrugs. “Worth it.” Biting his lip, he says the next part softly, “Felt like I was flying for a second.”

———

Pete had always been reckless, and reckless behavior was usually accompanied by adrenaline. And so that was how he and Tom saw each other over the years. Pete would pull off some stunt, usually getting scraped up or hurt in the process, and then he’d get to tell Tom all about it as he cleaned up.

For a while, it worked. It was a good system. Things felt good between them.

Even if Pete didn’t see Tom after every reckless and stupid stunt, he saw him often enough to keep looking for new heights to fly from.

They talked about flying a lot, Pete mentioning wanting to fly like his dad did, join the Navy and go supersonic in a fighter jet, catapult off of aircraft carriers for a living. Tom mentioned it too, how he wanted to fly and how the Navy might just be the best way to do it. They talked about how they’d get there, how maybe they could both go to Annapolis and finally meet in person, not through a mirror.

But as always, fate just had to step in.

——

eighteen

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Pete, please - ”

“No.”

Tom sighs and rubs his head. He doesn’t know what to say, if he should say anything. Pete’s scowling, his eyebrows furrowed tightly.

“They don’t want me because I’m Duke Mitchell’s kid.”

It’s a whisper, so soft Tom barely hears it. But he does, and his heart sinks. He sighs again and looks at Pete.

“It’s not your fault, you know.” Pete shoots him an incredulous look, not believing his words. “That’s the Academy deciding to judge you based on a last name, and not who you actually are. They don’t know you, know how smart you are and how much you want to fly for them. They’re judging you and your application off of something that was out of your control and that you really had no part in. It’s unfair and ridiculous.”

Pete shrugs. “They don’t see it that way. They see I’m Duke Mitchell’s kid and want to do everything they can to keep me out of the skies and away from the Navy. They’ll never accept me.”

“So find a way to make them accept you.”

——

Pete did find a way. He got his degree, did NROTC, and got his commission, got to flight school. He’d see Tom occasionally, and they’d talk a little. But Pete kept the conversations short, still a little mad about Tom getting into Annapolis while the Navy tried every which way to make sure he didn’t wind up in one of their cockpits.

But flight school brought him Goose. And Pete felt a little less alone in the world.

Nick Bradshaw took one look at Pete, at his new pilot, and said, “Hey, you need anything, I’m here for you.”

And he delivers on that promise. Nick invites Pete over to his place a lot, tells him all about his fiancee Carole, and makes sure Pete isn’t alone for too long.

And then Carole comes to visit. She immediately folds her arms around Pete and welcomes him to the family.

It’s nice, feeling loved and wanted again.

It makes Pete yearn for Tom, for that familiar feeling of being loved and wanted. Carole and Nick are soulmates, had found each other when they were younger and from then on out refused to be without one another.

“She’s my soulmate, you know?” Nick says over lunch one day. “I’d see her in the mirror and just…know it was meant to be. That she’d be in my life for a long, long time. And then I met her and, yeah. Rest is history. I knew she was the one and that I’d do anything for her.”

Pete thinks about Tom, about the last few times he’s caught a glimpse of the other man in the mirror. It’s been comforting to see him again, the conversations they sneak in when they get the bathroom to themselves. It’s hard to find that time, living in barracks and keeping their bond a secret.

And then there’s the fact that Tom wears his Academy ring constantly, reminding Pete of what he didn’t get to do. It continues to sting, to dig at Pete and it gets to him. Makes him snap at Tom, makes him want to break their bond, if such a thing was possible. It’s a hum of irritation that lives under Pete’s skin and pushes him to test the limits.

It gets him in trouble. Him and Goose. They wind up getting sent all over the place, and Tom sighs each time he catches wind of Pete’s antics and new assignments.

And then there’s Penny Benjamin.

——

twenty three

“What the hell did you do this time?”

Pete grimaces, not entirely proud of the answer to the question, but he doesn’t regret what he did either.

“I flirted with Penny Benjamin. And may have gotten caught by her father.”

“You’re being sent to a carrier because you flirted with Admiral Benjamin’s daughter?”

“Goose and I got reassigned because the Navy needs us on that carrier."

“Bullshit, Pete.”

“It’s Maverick,” Pete shoots back, chin up, challenging Tom.

He knows he’s being an ass. He knows he was stupid with Penny, getting caught with her, sneaking her back to the house with her clothes disheveled and haphazardly thrown on. But he couldn’t deny that it was a rush to be with someone he chose and someone who was taboo for a different reason than Tom was taboo.

“Fine, Maverick,” Tom emphasizes, “you’re an idiot and I’m calling bullshit. Why are you getting reassigned?”

Pete sighs and rubs his face. “Tom - ”

“It’s Iceman.”

“Okay, Iceman,” Pete spits out. “I’m getting reassigned and the reason why is none of your business.”

“The fact that we’re talking through mirrors means it is my business.”

“And I didn’t ask to see you in a mirror!”

Tom looks shocked for a second, and then he schools his face and nods. “Fine. Be safe out there, Pacific’s been rough.”

——

It’s the last time they talk for a long time. Whenever Pete sees a glimpse of blonde hair in the mirror, it fades quickly.

Pete’s not proud of what he’d said to Tom, regrets his words even if he did mean them in a sense. He didn’t ask for a soulmate, he didn’t ask for Tom to be his soulmate, but that doesn’t mean he wants to change it, if he really thinks about it.

Tom Kazansky is his soulmate, for better or worse.

Time on the carrier passes, with flights and patrols and routines and letters from Carole, now Goose’s wife, and their son Bradley.

Pete never hears from Tom.

Until Top Gun.

Finally meeting in person doesn’t solve their issues. Things don’t magically fall into place and Pete and Tom aren’t suddenly in love and not pissed at each other.

They’re actually pissed at each other the whole time they’re in Miramar.

The whole situation with Charlie doesn’t help either.

Pete knows he’s pushing Tom’s buttons, pushing his limits. But he has to know if he can change fate, if anything he does will change the course of his life and things aren’t set in stone.

He’d been denied at Annapolis because of his dad, but he found a way into the Navy and made it to Top Gun despite everyone telling him he couldn’t do it. So there has to be some way for him to fight fate on this, on his soulmate.

It’s a tense six weeks, the hops and the trainings, the debriefs, the competition.

And then Tom and Pete are flying together and before he knows it, Pete’s in a flat spin and ejecting and Goose is gone. Goose is dead and he can’t help but feel it’s his fault.

He’d tried to outrun fate and lost his best friend.

——

twenty four

“Oh, thank god, where are you?” Tom asks the second he sees Pete in the mirror.

“What do you care?”

Pete’s voice is despondent, hollow. It breaks Tom’s heart even more and he can feel his eyes water. “You’re…you’re my soulmate, Pete. Of course I care.”

Pete’s silent, and Tom just watches his face.

“I’m at the airport. Charlie saw me. I don’t…I can’t do it. I can’t do this without Goose.”

“You can, I know it’ll feel weird, but you’re still a great pilot.”

“Not that great if I killed my best friend.”

Tom sucks in a sharp breath. He knew Pete was blaming himself. Knew Pete always blamed himself for people leaving or getting hurt, thinking himself the common denominator.

And Tom had no idea how to convince him that wasn’t the case.

——

There were a few weeks left of Top Gun when Pete left, and he still had enough points to graduate right behind Tom and Slider. They didn’t get a chance to talk in person, and honestly Tom didn’t know if Pete would want to.

And then they get sent to the Layton, and Pete clears away any doubt that he is an amazing pilot. He hits the throttles and makes it to Tom and saves his ass. The two of them fly together and take down the MIGs, landing back on the carrier for the celebration.

It goes on for a while, crews letting loose for the first time in a while and Tom and Pete get caught up in it, everyone wanting to pat them on the back.

Tom slips away, takes a break from it all sometime in the night, and winds up in the bathroom, studying his reflection in the sink.

Pete appears in the mirror behind him, like he has so many times before. But Tom knows it’s not just a reflection or an apparition now.

Pete’s here. Pete’s onboard the Layton. Pete saved his life and flew like a bat out of hell, like the pilot Tom knows he can be.

Tom meets Pete’s eyes in the mirror, shoots him a smile as he closes the bathroom door and locks them in. “Thanks for today.” Pete gives him a confused look. “Haven’t said it yet, and you did save my ass. So, thanks.”

Pete nods, face guarded and hands in his pocket, entire body projecting how nervous he is. “You’re welcome. And honestly, I just knew I had to. That I could do it, that I needed to do it. I had to save you. Had to make sure you came back.”

“Why?”

“Was just something in me,” Pete shrugs. “And I think I knew I needed to do it. Can’t lose you just yet.”

It’s the first time as an adult that Pete has come close to admitting what they are to each other. That they’re soulmates, meant to be and always connected. Tom waits for Pete to continue, to see what he’ll say next.

“I knew I’d miss you, and I’d be mad at myself for not saying anything to you, not apologizing for what an ass I’ve been in the past and especially about Goose. I know he was your friend, too, and that day wasn’t easy for you either. But really, I had to save you so I could do this.”

And then, Pete Mitchell spins him around and kisses him.

Pete Mitchell is kissing Tom Kazansky.

And Tom never wants Pete to stop kissing him.

Thomas Kazansky and Pete Mitchell are soulmates. It took them some time to admit it, many years and arguments, but their bond has always been strong. The kiss intensifies that, sparks coursing through them as Tom gets his hands on Pete’s shoulders, hauls him in closer, into his arms, and holds on to this man that he loves.

“Took you long enough to do that,” Tom whispers when they break apart for a breath. “I’ve been waiting since that first night in the O-Club.”

“I’m here now, and I’m not losing you. Not if I can help it.”

#my writing #top gun #top gun 1986 #pete mitchell #pete maverick mitchell #tom kazansky #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #fic stuff

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mazikomo · 2 years

Text

For the Sake of a Fight

inspired by @aromansoul‘s amazing art of boxer!Silco and my ever present fixation on Jacob at the fight clubs

Arcane and Assassin’s Creed crossover because sometimes you need to write your blorbos beating the shit out of each other

AO3 link

1,476 words

SWF, canon typical violence

The air was stifling but it was nothing compared to the mines he had grown up working in. Silco disregarded the mud and cheap ale under his boots as he shoved his way forward through the crowd. His eye was finally healed enough that he could venture out and the shouting had drawn him to the area. Its volume increased the closer he got. Finally, he was able to lean his forearms on the railing to watch. The fighting ring was crude, likely thrown together with scraps from the construction happening all around the deep pit that had been the chosen location for the fight club.

It seemed he had arrived in the middle of the night's events. There were four men in the ring but it didn’t seem to be an even fight as three were all focused on the one. He was a shorter man with a stocky build and slicked back hair that was falling into his face. However, that didn’t seem to impede him one bit as he smoothly dodged another blow. He grabbed the man by the arm that had just swung past him, twisted it back, and with a firm kick from his boot in the middle of the man’s back, sent him flying into the edge of the ring. The man instantly doubled over the blunt railing and even from the distance, Silco knew ribs had been broken.

Silco saw a grin on the slick-haired man’s face as he turned to his remaining competitors. In a flash, he struck one in the gut, grabbed his wrist, violently twisted it until the man was on his knees. He then shoved his own knee into the lowered head and still managed to spin around in time to catch the other attacker with a kick to the thigh. The man was thrown off balance and it was easy to grab and toss him into the other. A loud clunk! resounded as heads collided and both men slumped down. They were out cold.

A strangely dressed man with a large B on his hat with tickets stuck into its ribbon entered the ring and stepped over the pair. He grabbed the arm of the victor and hoisted it into the air.

“Ladies and gentlemen, once again our victor is Mr. Frye!” Some erupted in cheers while others threw their tickets onto the ground with a scowl. Those who were truly angry stomped them into the mud as if that would earn their lost money back. The man continued, “Are there any who think they can beat the champion?!”

Silco lifted himself from the railing. Just the thing to let off some steam.

—

Jacob’s eyebrows rose as he watched the lithe man duck under the railing and step into the ring with him. He couldn’t weigh more than nine stone sopping wet. There was something about the way the man carried himself though, calm steps and head held high. Jacob stopped short when he saw the man's face. A lidless, blazing red eye met his gaze and Jacob felt as if it was looking straight through him. The eye was surrounded by mangled flesh that appeared as if it would fall off from the slightest agitation. His no doubt now curious stare was held with a confident one in return as if challenging Jacob to dare pity him. The man clearly came to fight.

“You do this kind of thing often mate?” he asked.

The man rolled his shoulders and shook his arms out. “Stalling with conversation are we?”

Jacob shrugged, “Have it your way then.” and just like that the atmosphere shifted. The fight was on.

They paced around each other. Fists held up but neither making the first move. If he was completely honest, yes he had been stalling. Jacob had lost track of how many opponents he had fought somewhere around the third round of the evening. He was only in the current match because the crowd had yet to dissipate.

He studied the man before him again. There seemed to be something boiling under his skin. Jacob knew the feeling well enough. Most of his time before arriving in London had been spent in various pubs and back alleys getting up to no good. If that’s what his opponent wanted then he was happy to provide.

He took one more steady breath and drew a punch back for the man’s left side. His strike was swiftly blocked and a counter blow contacted with his stomach. So the red eye still worked then.

The man made for another blow but Jacob quickly side stepped it. He returned the shot to his stomach with his own and added in another for good measure. While the man hunched over his gut, Jacob grabbed his shoulders and head butted him. Practice had made it so the move did not affect himself as much as his opponent.

The man shook his head and snarled. He was broadcasting his moves and Jacob easily ducked the incoming swing to his head. He clenched his hands in one another and swung his body upwards, driving his elbow into the man’s nose.

—

Silco spat out the blood seeping into his mouth.

He lunged at his opponent. The familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins for the first time in months. His blows were blocked but he didn’t care. After being cooped up for so long he had an excess of energy that needed to be let out.

An uppercut to his opponent’s jaw finally landed and Silco quickly followed up with a kick to his side. He grabbed his opponent’s hair and in quick succession delivered three punches to his face. On the forth, he released his grip and let them fly backwards.

His opponent grinned back at him with blood in his teeth. “Feisty one aren’t we?” He mocked.

Silco flew forward again, eager to punch the smile off his face. However, once again his opponent side stepped his punch. He felt hands grab his arm, but before the foot he knew was coming could connect with his back, Silco yanked his arm to his chest. He lurched in on himself and flipped the man over him flat onto his back.

—

Jacob stared up bewildered. He did not think the man had the strength for that but clearly he was wrong. A muddy boot came into his view and he quickly rolled out of the way before if could connect with his face.

While the man stumbled Jacob shot to his feet. “You know, if you wanted to sweep me off my feet, you could’ve just bought me a drink.” he teased.

The man responded with a swift punch but Jacob easily ducked it. He jabbed the back of the man’s shoulder then followed up with a swift right hook. This time, he was able to land a blow onto the red eye. His previous suspicion was confirmed as blood instantly welled within the cracks of the mangled flesh.

“Red looks good on you!”

Something must have snapped in the man as suddenly he was on him in a fury of strikes. Jacob managed to block most but a blow to his stomach had him doubling over. Immediately, a bony knee was brought up into his nose and Jacob’s head flew back only to be struck again with a fist. An eye for an eye it seemed.

—

Silco threw his opponent from him but the man only stumbled back a step and flashed that stupid grin again. Silco quite literally saw red as he shot forward once more. His fists were wild as he swung, not even aiming anymore.

His opponent hunkered down for the worst of it. Silco’s blows continued to strike braced arms and he eventually realized it was futile. He took a step back and raised his leg. However, his opponent quickly latched onto the opening and a sharp uppercut connected with his head while his own foot slammed into the man’s knee.

Silco fell onto his back with a spinning head. A thump to his side told him the man had fallen to his knees. That wouldn’t do. He may be down but there would be no victor for this match. Silco managed to brace himself on his side and in a last ditch effort swung his leg into the man’s side sending him sprawling.

They both laid in the mud panting. Through the ringing in his ears, Silco could hear a bell ring.

“Seems the bookie’s seen enough.” the man next to him chuckled. “Name’s Jacob by the way, Jacob Frye.”

“Silco.” Jacob seemed to wait for him to continue. “just, Silco.”

“Alright, well Silco, I could use a spitfire like you in my gang. What do you say?”

Silco lazily turned his head to look at Jacob.

“I don’t take orders.”

#this'll probs only interest 6 people but idc #we write self indulgent content here #silco #silco arcane #jacob frye #arcane #assassin's creed syndicate #ac syndicate #my writing #posting with the paint already open so i cant sit around here

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winterskywrites · 1 year

Text

The first scene that I wrote for The Shape Of You (Was Jagged And Weak) was one that actually got completely rewritten - I wrote a scene of Bruce checking on Dick the night after they found him, which then eventually turned into a scene with Alfred instead, to keep the balance of POV characters in chapter 2. However, I kept the original draft, so if anyone is interested, here you go!

Dick always slept either sprawled across the entire bed or curled up as tightly as he could. Bruce wasn't particularly surprised to find him curled up tightly tonight, so tightly he was almost entirely hidden under the blanket.

He also wasn't surprised to see that his breathing shifted, just slightly, when Bruce entered the room. Clearly, Dick slept just as lightly as Renegade as he had as Nightwing.

"It's just me," Bruce said, then he added, "Bruce. Your father."

He hated having to add those qualifiers, but as long as Dick didn't remember him, they'd be necessary.

Dick sat up, blankets pooling around his hips. "Am I not allowed to sleep?"

Bruce blinked. "Are you- Of course you're allowed to sleep. I was just coming in to-"

To check on you, was the real answer, but Bruce had enough trouble showing that tenderness to his children who remembered him. "To see if you needed anything," he finished instead. "Why wouldn't you be allowed to sleep?"

"During my training with Deathstroke, there was a week when I wasn't allowed to sleep," Dick said, his voice conversational, like what he was describing wasn't horrifying. "Every time I dozed off, he would wake me up. Then we'd spar. He only let me sleep on the seventh day after I was able to hold him off."

"That's torture," Bruce said, his voice coming out flat and emotionless.

Dick shrugged. "It was training. I needed to be able to fight in any circumstance."

For a moment, Bruce wondered what other circumstances Deathstroke thought Dick might need to train in, then he shoved the thought aside. He'd deal with that later. Right now…

"No one will do that to you here," he said firmly. "Alfred will come in to wake you for breakfast, but if you're still tired, you can go back to sleep instead of coming down. You can sleep as much as you want."

Dick eyed him, his face unreadable. Bruce hated to see that look on his face, especially paired with the lack of recognition in his eyes. This was his son, he shouldn't look at him like this.

Then again, Bruce supposed he should be glad that Dick was alive to look at him at all. For six months, he'd thought he'd never see his son again. He still couldn't quite believe Dick was back, but all the tests had confirmed it. Bruce had been lucky enough to have another son returned to him, and he'd never stop being grateful for it.

"Does this room bring back any memories?" he asked abruptly.

Dick looked around. "It was my room, right?"

"It was."

Slowly, Dick got out of bed and walked up to the Flying Graysons poster framed on the far wall. "You said my last name was Grayson, didn't you? Dick Grayson?"

"It is."

Dick reached out one hand, stopping in front of the poster. "So this is…"

"The boy is you," Bruce said. "The man and woman are your parents. Your father's name was John and your mother's name was Mary."

Slowly, Dick's fingers traced his mother's face. "I… I feel like I should remember them. The names are almost familiar, like I met them once or I saw them in a dream or-"

He stopped. Swallowed. "They're my parents," he said quietly. "I should know who they are."

"Dick…" Bruce almost reached out for Dick, then stopped himself. Dick liked hugs, but Renegade didn't remember him and had been trained (tortured, apparently) by Deathstroke for the past six months. Bruce had no idea how he'd react to a grown man reaching for him, especially one he'd fought before.

"I can look around this room and make guesses about the person who lived in it," Dick said. "But I don't remember any of it."

"We'll figure out a way to fix this," Bruce promised. "We'll get your memory back."

Dick was still staring at the poster of the Flying Graysons. "I'd like to be alone. Is that allowed?"

"Of course," Bruce replied, nodding. "I'll go. But Dick… Memories or not, you're part of this family, and we're glad to have you back."

"What time is breakfast?" Dick asked.

Bruce held back a sigh. "Nine o'clock."

"Then I'll see you at nine o'clock."

"Until nine, then," Bruce agreed, and he left the room, closing the door behind him.

He hoped Dick would still be there in the morning. He didn't quite know what he would do if he wasn't.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #my writing #ficlet #future history #future history extra

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justsomewritingblog · 2 years

Text

Avatar: TLA (Part 7 of many)

Request: None

Requested By: Nobody

Pairing: Zuko x reader

Summary: Bato of the Watertribe

Warnings: none?

A/N: It’s an oofer!

Word Count: 5K+ (Oh, my)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, look! A sword made out of a whale’s tooth!” Aang exclaimed excitedly, picking up the weapon. You walked over, just as Sokka took it from the boy.

“Let me see that.” He studied it for a moment before coming to a conclusion. “This is a watertribe weapon.” He announced, looking back at you and Aang, who shared looks. “See if you can find anything else.” Sokka instructed. Everyone split up, digging in the bushes.

“Did someone loose something?” Katara asked, walking over.

“No, we found something!” Aang told her, still excited.

“It’s burned.” You heard Sokka say. You looked over as he held an arrowhead up examining it. He rubbed his fingers on burn marks on a tree. “There was a battle. Watertribe warriors ambushed a group of firebenders.” He declared. You raised an eyebrow. “The firebenders fought back, but the warriors drove them down this hill.”

“You got all that from a few stray weapons and marks?” You asked, chasing him down the hill. “I’m impressed.”

Sokka heard you, though he didn’t show it, as he came to a stop on the beach, you smacking into his back, knocking you off balance. Aang caught you under your arms, and stood you upright again.

“So then what happened?” He asked, not breaking his focus. Sokka’s shoulders slumped.

“I don’t know. The trail ends here.”

“Wait, look!” Katara shouted. You all looked to where she was pointing and you saw a ship, washed up on shore.

“It’s one of our boats!” Sokka said, he and Katara running towards it.

“How did we miss that?” You asked yourself. Aang shrugged at you, following them over, you right behind him.

“No, but it’s from his fleet.” You heard Sokka say as you ran over. He turned to his sister. “Dad was here.” He declared.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was dark, the only light coming from the moon. You watched it’s reflection on the water, entranced by its beauty. The camp was made by the ship. Aang was laying on Appa’s leg, asleep. Katara was in her sleeping bag, also asleep. You turned, and noticed Sokka staring into the fire, poking it with a stick. His unblinking eyes told you he was deep in thought. He suddenly turned and drew his boomerang.

“Who’s there!?” He demanded. A figure stepped out of the shadows.

“Sokka?” It asked.

“Bato?” Sokka questioned back. You could see the grin on his face.

Aang stirred from his slumber.

“Who-the-what, now?” He asked. Katara also awoke.

“Bato!” She shouted quietly. She stood and she and her brother ran toward the man.

“Sokka, Katara.” He greeted. Hey hugged him. “It’s so good to see you two.” He chuckled. “You’ve grown so much.” He noticed. Aang walked forward.

“Hi, I’m Aang.” He introduced, bowing.

“Where’s Dad?” Sokka asked the man.

“Is he here?!” Katara questioned, excited. You and Aang shared a confused look.

“No. He and the other warriors should be in the Eastern Earth Kingdom by now.” He answered. Sokka and Katara both hung their heads before they shuddered, feeling the cool breeze.

“This is no place for a reunion.” Bato noted. “Let’s get inside.” He wrapped his arms around the siblings’ shoulders, before turning slightly and signaled you and Aang to follow. You put out the fire with waterbending before chasing after them.

~~~~~~~~~

“After I was wounded, your father carried me to this abbey.” Bato explained, entering into a small village. “The sisters have cared for me ever since.” He walked up to a group of three women. “Superior.” The women turned. “These are Hakoda’s children. They’ve been traveling with the Avatar, and a new friend from the North Pole. I found them by my boat.”

“Young Avatar, it gives me great joy to be in your presence.” One woman said, stepping forward and bowing. “Welcome to out abbey.”

“Thank you.” Aang said, bowing back. “It’s truly an honor to be here. If there’s anything-”

“What smells so good, Bato?” Sokka asked, cutting the Avatar off. He smelled the air.

“The sisters craft ointments and perfumes.” Bato answered, gesturing to some barrels sitting a few feet away.

“Perfume? Maybe we can dump some on Appa; because he stinks so much. Am I right?” Sokka joked, pointing at the big beast. He was met with silence.

“You have your father’s wit.” Bato told him. He led you all to the place where he was staying for his recovery. He slid open the door.

“Bato, it looks like home!” Katara exclaimed. You all walked in.

“Everything’s here. Even the pelts!” Sokka added.

“Yeah. Nothing cozier than dead animal skins.” Aang mused, a weary look on his face. He cradled Momo in his arms.

“No way. Stewed sea prunes!?” Katara asked. You turned, and saw a pot over the little fire. Katara held a lid.

“Help yourself.” Bato instructed.

“Dad could eat a whole barrel of these things.” Sokka remembered. Aang was handed a bowel. He smelled it and made a face. You choked yours down, somehow without complaint.

“Bato, is it true you and Dad lassoed an arctic hippo?” Katara inquired, curious.

“It was your father’s idea. He just dragged me along. Well, the hippo did the dragging.” Bato answered. Momo began lapping up Aang’s untouched stew, only to spit it back out.

“Hey! I ride animals, too!” Aang exclaimed, as Katara and Sokka were happily gulping down the ‘meal’. “One time, there was this giant eel, and I-”

“Who was it that came up with the great blubber fiasco?” Sokka asked. Bato laughed.

“You knew about that?”

“Everyone does.” Katara said.

“What’s that story?” Aang questioned.

“It’s a long one, Aang. Some other time.” Sokka told him. You raised an eyebrow, but brushed it off.

“You and Dad had so many hilarious adventures.” Katara commented.

“Not all of which were hilarious at the time, but everything’s funny with hindsight.” Bato said, chuckling. “Aang, please put that down! It’s ceremonial and very fragile.” Bato informed. Aang had what looked like an animal head atop his own. You crossed your arms.

“Do you have to touch?” You asked. Aang frowned and put it back, leaning against the wall. You turned back to the people from your sister tribe, interested in their stories.

“Was it you or Dad that put an octopus on your head and convinced Gran-gran you were a water spirit?” Sokka asked.

“Your dad wore the octopus, but I did the spooky voice.” Bato explained, dropping his voice down at the end of his sentence to give them an example. They talked for a while, as you listened to their stories, laughing at the stupidity at some of them. It had gotten very late when Bato spoke again. “There’s something I should tell you kids. I’m expecting a message from your father.”

“Really!?” Katara exclaimed.

“When?!” Sokka asked.

“Any day, now. Your father said he’d send a message when they found the rendezvoused point.” Bato explained. “If you wait until the message arrives, you can come with me, and see your father again.” Bato offered.

“It’s been over two years since we’ve seen Dad! That would be so incredible!” Sokka exclaimed. You suddenly became nervous. Would they want to see their father? Would you have to travel with Aang alone? Of course, you were happy for them, and you would understood if they wanted to go see their dad. That didn’t mean you couldn’t worry or be disappointed. “Katara-”

Katara cut her brother off. “I do really miss him. It would be great to see Dad.”

“It’s been far too long, hasn’t it?” Bato asked, softly. “I’m not sure when word will arrive, but when it does, I’ll let you know.”

You turned, hearing the door. You noticed Aang must have left. You bit your bottom lip, thinking.

“It would be great, but we can’t.” Sokka told Bato. “We have to take Aang and Y/n to the North Pole, first.”

“Even if we had time to wait for the message, who knows how far we’d have to travel? We don’t have time for a long detour.” Katara added. You smiled, glad that they thought of others, not just themselves and their own happiness. At the same time, you felt terrible that they couldn’t see their father. You huffed a breath of air and leaned against the wall. Aang walked in, a few minutes later.

“Sorry I was gone so long.” He apologized, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hey, Aang. I didn’t notice you left.” Katara voiced.

“Yep, but now I’m back. Sure…could….go for some delicious sea prunes.” He said, sitting and taking the bowel, and eating what he could. You watched him suspiciously. Something was off. Something was definitely off.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Bato led you all to the boat you’d discovered the night before. “This ship is sentimental to me.” He informed. “It was built by my father.”

“Is this the boat he took you ice-dodging in?” Sokka asked.

“Yep. It’s got the scar to prove it.”

You smiled.

“How about you, Sokka? You must have some good stories from your first time ice-dodging.”

Sokka frowned at this.

“He never got to go. Dad left before he was old enough.” Katara explained. You frowned and placed a comforting hand on Sokka’s shoulder.

“Oh, I forgot, you were too young.” Bato recalled.

“What’s ice-dodging?” Aang questioned.

“It’s a rite of passage for young watertribe members. When you turn fourteen, your dad takes you-” Bato paused his explanation, looking towards a still frowning Sokka. He placed his hand on his other shoulder. “You know what? You’re about to find out.”

~~~~~~~~~

The next thing you know, you’re all on the boat, going through the water.

“Ice-dodging is a ceremonial test of wisdom, bravery, and trust.” Bato started. “In our village it was done by weaving a boat through ice-bergs.”

“How are we supposed to ice-dodge without ice?” Sokka asked. You looked to the rocks sticking up out of the waves.

“Great.” You mumbled.

“You’ll be dodging…..those.” He paused for affect, pointing to a large cluster of rocks just ahead. “Sokka, you steer, and call the shots.” Bato informed. “Lead wisely. Katara, you secure the main sail. The winds can be brutal, so be brave. Aang, you control the jib. Without your steady hand, we all go down. Your position is about trust.”

“I know that. Why wouldn’t I know that? I’m the Avatar, I know about trust.” He said, crossing his arms. You crossed yours as well, sending him a look of uneasiness.

“For this to be done right, I cannot help. Y/n, come sit with me. There are only three open positions. I’m sorry you don’t get to participate.”

“It’s fine.” You admitted, sitting next to him.

“You pass or fail on your own.” He told the others. The boat glided effortlessly above the sea. It would have been peaceful, if not for the very large rocks you were supposed to be sailing through. You focused on your breathing while Sokka shouted orders.

“Aang, ease up on the jib. Katara, steady.” He instructed. “Aang, less sail. Katara, give him room!”

They did as they were instructed, the boat turning this way and that. At one point, you’d been thrown into the side of the ship.

“There’s no way through!” Katara said, noticing a large cluster of jagged rocks.

“We can make it!” He insisted. Bato stood.

“Sokka, you’ve already proven yourself. Maybe we should-”

“Aang, I’m gonna need air in that sail.” He declared. The boy nodded. “Katara, I want you to bend as much water as you can between us and those rocks!”

“We’re gonna die.” You muttered.

“Now!” Sokka yelled. They did as they were told, and the boat rose. Your eyes widened in a mix of terror and amazement. The boat made it over, and Aang and Katara stopped bending, the boat sliding down the remainder of the wave, and returning to its normal duties. Your jaw dropped. You spun around quickly.

“Sokka, that was amazing!!” You complimented, crushing him in a hug.

“Thank you.” He barely breathed out. You let go of him, and he inhaled deeply through his mouth. When the ship had landed back on shore, you all got out and Bato had a bowel of paint, you guessed, in his hand.

“The spirits of water bear witness to these marks!” He put an arch on his forehead, with a dot below it. “For Sokka, the mark of the wise! The same mark your father earned.” He turned to Sokka’s sister. “For Katara, the mark of the brave!” He painted a crescent moon on her forehead. “Your courage inspires us.” You stood next to Bato, smiling, as you didn’t take place in the test. “And for Aang, the mark of the trusted.” He painted a simple line across Aang’s forehead. You saw Aang’s eyes grow big. It wasn’t amazement, though. It looked like alarm. “You are now an honorary member of the watertribe.” Bato informed.

“I can’t.” Aang said, looking down.

“Of course you can!” Katara said. Aang wiped the mark off with his sleeve and the back of his hand.

“No.” He insisted, backing up. “You can’t trust me.” You frowned, eyebrows pinched together.

“Aang, what did you do?” You questioned, a tone in your voice the boy had never heard before. It was almost…..threatening.

“I-” He started.

“Aang? What are you talking about?” Katara asked. He reached into the flap of his shirt.

“A messenger gave this to me for Bato.” He said, pulling out a crumpled up paper. You pieced two and two together. Your eyes widened before narrowing.

“You didn’t!” You hoped. Oh, how you hoped you were wrong. Katara took it, unrumpled it and gasped, putting a hand over her mouth. Sokka stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder.

“You have to understand. I was afraid you wouldn’t-”

“This is the map to our father!!” Sokka shouted. “You had it the whole time!? How could you!?”

Aang squeezed his eyes shut, no doubt not wanting to see Sokka’s fury. But he could still hear it. Sokka wasn’t finished. “You can go to the North Pole without me! I’m going to find Dad!” He determined, stomping in the other direction. Bato started to speak.

“Now Sokka, I think you should-”

“Katara, are you with me?” The boy impatiently asked, turning around. Katara looked to Aang before frowning and hanging her head.

“I’m with you, Sokka.” She determined. You crossed your arms, sick of their behavior. You watched Sokka, Katara and Bato all walk away. You ran a frustrated hand through your hair, messing it up. You wanted to scold Aang. To yell and scream at him, but he was much too fragile for that right now. You instead, bit your lip and pulled him in for a hug, though he didn’t reciprocate until he started crying. Your currently frozen heart melted, and you felt bad for the boy.

“They told him, no, ya know.”

Aang sniffled. “What?”

“After you left, when Bato told them about the letter, they said they couldn’t. They said they had to go with you.” He fell silent. “And I’m disappointed in you for lying, and behaving in such a childish manner, but I realize you were scared.” You whispered, rubbing his back. “You didn’t want to lose them. You couldn’t lose them. But I’m afraid you just might have.” You paused, thinking. “Aang, I’m going to go with you. Not just to the North Pole. I’m going with you when you learn earth and fire.” You gave him a squeeze. “You’re gonna need all the help you can get.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood a little. He remained silent. “Come on. Let’s go get Appa ready.” You told him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

When you got back to the abbey, Katara, Sokka and Bato were getting their things together, prepared to leave. Aang floated in the air and landed on Appa’s head, hugging his knees, watching them. You saw Katara approach Aang and you walked over to Sokka and Bato. You bowed at Bato.

“It was very nice to meet you. Thank you for all of the stories you shared. Even if it was mainly for their benefit.”

“My pleasure.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Sokka asked. You shook your head.

“There’s no reason to. He’s not my father, and Aang needs help. Besides, he’s going to my home, remember? Just as you’re going to find yours.”

Sokka frowned. You smiled softly at him, stepping forward and pulling him into a hug. “It was nice to get to know you, Sokka of the Southern Watertribe.” You pulled away and bowed slightly. “Till we meet again.”

“If we meet again.” He mumbled. You turned and hugged Katara, as she was approaching.

“Goodbye.” You whispered.

“Take care of him.” She whispered back.

“I will.” She pulled away and jogged to catch up with her party. “Good luck!” You yelled, waving. Katara and Bato waved back, though Sokka still looked sullen. You turned and climbed atop Appa, running your hands through his fur as you settled down into the saddle.

Aang turned the giant bison, and he slowly walked out of the abbey. Aang pulled him to a stop so he could watch the three figures in blue disappear among the trees. “I’m an idiot.” He muttered to himself. You frowned.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“What are we waiting for again?” You asked. Appa was stopped by the shore, next to Bato’s boat. Aang was laying between Appa’s horn, and Appa’s head. Aang was about to answer when one of the sisters walked over.

“Avatar, you must leave.” She said.

“Okay, I get it. Everybody wants me gone.” Aang replied, pulling on Appa’s reigns. He must be tightening them, you thought.

“A group of people came to the abbey looking for you.” The sister informed. You quickly sat up, as you were leaning on the saddle, seeing as there was so much more room now.

“Who?” Aang asked.

“A fierce looking woman with a horrible monster. And a young man with a scar.” She explained further. Your eyes widened.

“Zuko.” Aang determined, a scowl now on his face.

“The beast was using the scent of a necklace to follow you.” She alerted. You turned to Aang with a panicked look.

“Katara and Sokka!”

Aang gasped, grabbing his glider.

“Get on!” He instructed. You did as you were told, and he rose into the sky. You flew back to the abbey, clinging onto Aang for dear life, when you saw a large, brown figure, with figures on it. You saw blue stick out from the more muted colors, and recognized them as Sokka and Katara.

Aang flew in low, as the creature’s tongue lurched out, it standing up on its hind legs. Everyone fell off, and, seeing as you were close enough to the ground, you let go of Aang and rolled, bringing yourself to your feet. The creature stumbled and fell. The woman stood and whipped him, making the creature stand. She got back on it and charged Aang, until Appa flew in, and knocked them both into a wall. You grinned and ran over to Sokka and Katara. You helped the sisters drag them to a corner, so they were out of the way.

“Told you I’d see you again.” You muttered to Sokka. He didn’t get to respond, because you had already left. You turned and saw Zuko shoot fire at Aang, who blocked it with his glider, immediately flinging wind at him. He also dodged, and they entered a dance, neither getting the upper hand. Zuko closed the distance and managed to knock Aang’s glider away, but Aang kept dodging, none of Zuko’s hits landing. You rolled your eyes and went to help, but they both shot fire and air at each other at the very same time, creating an explosion and sending the lot of you flying.

Zuko and Aang both landed on roofs, breaking some of the tiles, while you smashed roughly into a nearby wall, creating a small crater. You fell and landed on the ground, making the pain worse. You yelled out. Your arms were slightly burnt because of the explosion, and your back was sending jolts of pain through the rest of your body. You pulled yourself to your knees, but while you were doing this, you were hunched over, sending more jolts through your body. You yelled out again, tears pricking your eyes.

“Y/n!!” The Avatar shouted.

“Stay focused, Aang!” You shouted back, not looking up at him. You felt a presence by your side, and you looked, seeing Iroh. He helped you to your feet. You stared at him in shock.

“No tea today.” You muttered to him, running off. Aang and Zuko were fighting on the roof. The creature jumped up as well, the girl on his back, trying to lick Aang. Though, as you had figured out, his tongue paralyzes its prey. Aang jumped down, avoiding it, only to be met by Zuko’s fire again. Aang danced around a well, avoiding the fire, but never shooting back, until he caught a glimpse of Katara’s necklace, dangling from the prince’s arm.

“You’ve got something I want.” Aang told him. He jumped forward, Zuko firing at him, while Aang used the well as an advantage, simply moving around in the small space, dodging his blows. Zuko, becoming frustrated, broke the wood above the stone, getting rid of Aang’s leverage. They danced around atop it, firing and dodging. You huffed as Aang leapt into the air, diving into the well. Zuko jumped atop it, sending a massive amount of fire into it.

“Aang!!” You yelled, running over. Your body told you not to, but you wouldn’t listen. You stood next to Zuko. “What did you do!?”

He didn’t get a chance to reply. All the water in the well burst out, sending the two of you flying, Aang coming out and landing on the ground safely. All the water looked like rain, as you fell to the ground, Zuko landing on your already damaged back. You hollered in pain. He scrambled off of you and charged Aang, only to turn and run when Appa started marching towards him, growling. You bit your lip and stood, seeing Appa fall, also paralyzed.

“Appa!” You yelled, rushing over. You placed a hand on his soft fur. You turned to the creature and glared. He and Zuko currently had Aang stuck. He could only run back and forth along the wall. Zuko was shooting fire, and the creature would dart its tongue out of Aang came too close the other way. You ran over and tripped Zuko from behind, giving Aang a chance to escape. Zuko spun around, angry. He began shooting at you, as you drew water from the puddles that Aang had made with the well water earlier, blocking the blows.

You weren’t moving too much, trying to keep your back pain as in control as possible. He noticed this. He shot a few quick bursts at you, and while you blocked them, he had leapt over you, and you bumped your back into his chest. You held in a groan. You started to pull away, but he made a dagger of fire, holding it to your neck, effectively keeping you there. Your eyes widened as you looked at it. He leaned down, his mouth right next to your ear.

“I’m only going easy on you because of what you did during the storm.” He whispered. You could feel his hot breath on your neck, but you swallowed down a shudder. Or a gag. You weren’t sure. “Next time, expect no mercy.”

“This is going easy on me?” You muttered back. “I can’t wait to see what full out looks like.” You mumbled, a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

“I’m one of the most powerful benders alive.”

“You have no control.” You retorted, daring to turn your head and look at him. “You’re a hot-head.” He glared at you, throwing you on the ground. Wait, what did I just say? You asked yourself. Those words sounded familiar. Powerful bender. Hot-head. Your eyes widened in terror. You rolled over and looked at a mad Zuko. The words anger, hate and disgust rolled through your mind. You nearly gagged at the thought.

“What’s wrong?” Zuko asked, seeing the panicked look on your face. “Scared of a ‘hot-head’?” Those words were back. He took menacing steps forward.

“No, I just remembered something.” You admitted.

“What did you remember?” He asked, still taking steps forward, making you back up.

You froze, having no clue how to respond. “Something a fortuneteller told me. It’s stupid, naturally.”

“What’d she tell you? You’d lose? It’s not stupid.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s much worse.” You said, pulling yourself to your feet. You subtly gathered water together, collecting your strength. Iroh watched from afar, unbeknownst to you.

“And what’s that?”

Now, you debated this back and forth in your mind, but seeing as you needed some way to distract him, this was about as good as it was gonna get.

“I fall in love.” You replied simply, feeling yourself gather enough water. Your words caused Zuko to stop his advancements.

“What does that have to do with-?”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, as you flung water at him so hard, he flew into the nearest wall. At this moment, Katara had bended all the barrels of perfume, and dumped it on the creature, its rider, and a fallen Zuko. The creature shook his head, breathing heavily through its nose. It moved around violently, striking Zuko with its tongue, making him collapse. The creature attacked its owner as well.

“June! No!” Iroh shouted, catching her. You cringed. The creature ran around in circled, finally climbing over the wall and disappearing. Aang picked up his staff again, and smiled at Sokka and Katara who had went over to greet him. You bended some of the water, and began healing your back, biting back tears at the uncomfortable position. When you had mostly healed it, you stood and walked over to where Zuko, Iroh and June lay. You looked at them, your face a mix of strong confusion and something else you couldn’t place. Iroh looked up at you, making you take a step back out of surprise. He smiled kindly at you, making you forget all about your shock and confusion.

“I don’t suppose we’ll ever have that tea.” You muttered, sitting down next to his head, next to Zuko’s as well. “I don’t think we’ll ever have the time. Or the freedom.” You noted, looking down at your hands, which were playing with the ties on your shirt. “Which is a shame, because I’d really like to get to know you. And talk about…..some things.” You added, quickly glancing at Zuko. Iroh smiled.

“I’m sure we will, sooner or later.”

“I hope for sooner. It’s kind of important. But if my friends-” You stopped yourself, unwilling to think of their thoughts and faces if they found out anything you were withholding from them. “You really seem like a kind man. I don’t know how your brother turned out so bad. But I can already see you have an effect on those around you.” You said, glancing down at Zuko again.

“Ugh, can we stop with the cheese? This is gross.” June remarked. “Honestly, as if loosing wasn’t bad enough-” You crossed your arms.

“If I’m not mistaken, you signed up for this.” You stood. “So next time you come after us, expect to lose.” You turned to Iroh, your scowl turning into a smile immediately. “It was very nice to see you again. And thanks for all your help.”

“It was my pleasure.”

You turned to Zuko. “Thank you for going easy on me. You didn’t have to.”

“Just leave.” He muttered, glaring. You frowned slightly, for some reason feeling hurt by his words. You turned.

“June, go rot in a ditch.” You told her, standing and walking over to your friends.

“What were you doing over there?” Sokka asked.

“Telling them to go rot in ditches.” You half-lied. Sokka smiled, patting you on the back.

“That’s my girl.” He muttered, pulling his hand away when you winced slightly. “Sorry.” He muttered.

“It’s fine.” You assured. You climbed on a now recovered Appa, because of his size, he healed pretty quickly. You flew over the earth at about sunset.

“So….where do we go?” Aang asked.

“We’re getting you to the North Pole.” Katara answered.

“Yeah. We’ve lost too much time as it is.” Sokka added.

“Don’t you want to see your father?”

“Of course we do, Aang. But you and Y/n are our family, too. But right now, you need us more.” Sokka replied.

“And we need you.” Katara added. You were barely paying attention, though. You were staring at the passing clouds in thought. Were you really supposed to fall in love with Zuko?

“Y/n? Y/n!?”

You spun around.

“Are you alright?” Aang asked. No.

“Yeah.” You lied. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” Katara asked. You smiled.

“How glad I am that there’s not as much room in this saddle.” You said, pulling Katara and Sokka in for a hug. They smiled and hugged you back.

“I wish I could give you a little piece of home, Katara.” Aang started. You knew what he was getting at. “Something to remind you-”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Still! Just a little trinket. Maybe something like…..this?” He said, pulling out her necklace.

“Aang! How’d you get that!?” She asked, putting it around her neck. Sokka sat up and rubbed his eyes, making sure he was seeing what he thought he was.

“Zuko asked me to make sure I got it to you.” Aang said. Your mind flipped back to Aunt Wu, but you pushed that away. You were currently just having fun with your friends.

“Aw. That’s so sweet of Zuko.” Katara said, fake adoration coming from her voice as she placed her hand mockingly on her chest. “Will you give him a kiss for me when you see him?”

“Sure.” Aang answered. You burst out laughing, a snort following.

“Oh my word.” You muttered. Katara leaned forward and gave Aang a kiss on the cheek. His face turned red as he twiddled him thumbs. He, and Katara were smiling as yours fell. You turned to Sokka.

“I’m sorry about your dad.” You whispered. A frown made its way onto his face as well.

“We’ll see him again. I can feel it.”

“Are you sure you want to come with us? I’m sure we could manage.”

“Thanks, but no. You guys are going to need help. Where would you be without my charming wit?” He asked. You grinned.

“Man, I missed you.” You muttered, giving him a side-hug. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Glad to be back.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Repost

#Avatar: The Last Airbender x reader #Avatar: The Last Airbender #A:TLA #A:TLA x reader #x reader #reader #reader insert #Zuko x reader #Avatar #Avatar x reader #My works #Mara's Works #My Imagine #Mara's imagine

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alondradina · 1 year

Text

The beginning of Domaystic 2023!

Day 1: Housewarming

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Rating: T

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46893625

Harry wasn't sure what he had expected of Hogwarts university, but the reality was better than he had dreamed. Hermione would have told him it was because he lacked imagination — which was rich considering how much effort she had to put into art and creative writing in high school — but he knew the real issue was that he'd had so few good experiences in life.

"What d'ye think?" Ron asked, shifting the box of Harry's belongings he was carrying.

Harry looked around the ground floor of the dorm he'd be living in for his Freshman year. It was comfortably worn in, but not threadbare or in poor repair. It just looked like what he thought a home should be. The carpets were a warm maroon with flattened trails where students walked. The wooden walls glowed dully in the subdued lighting.

He had grown up in the Dursley's house; white and beige with gray accents. There were no fingerprints, no squeaky steps, no muddy welcome mats. Harry himself had ensured that. He had spent years slaving away in that house. It was strange to think that someone else would be cleaning here.

"It's nice… real nice," Harry finally answered. He shrugged at Ron's incredulous look. "Kinda like your place."

Ron wrinkled his nose. "I don't know about your house, but most people don't think mine is great."

"It's a home. People live there. People who love each other. That's better than what I had."

Rolling his eyes, Ron gestured towards the line of people waiting for the elevator. "We doing that, or going up the stairs?"

"It's only one floor up. We can do that."

"You'd hope so," Ron grumbled, leading the way towards the door marked 'stairs,' "Mad eye keeping us running all summer and all."

"Coach Moody has a point, you know. Not going to win if we don't have any stamina."

Ron scoffed in response.

The carpet on the stairs was not nearly as worn as the lobby, and Harry had the feeling people avoided taking them. Their loss, he thought; only just now hearing the elevator head back downstairs.

"What's the apartment number?" Ron hollered over his shoulder, opening the stairwell door and stepping through without holding it for his friend.

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled it open — juggling the two boxes he was carrying — and followed after. "Two oh three."

"That's convenient. It's right here."

Harry shifted to look around his friend. His apartment was one over from the stairs, which was, indeed, convenient. "Guess I will take the stairs then."

"Your funeral."

The elevator dinged and a few people stepped out. One of them was Hermione. She was animatedly speaking with a dark haired boy, who was listening with cool politeness; face blankly staring until she glanced over at him. His dark eyes briefly met Harry's when Hermione pointed him out.

"Harry!" She called, grinning her familiar bucktoothed smile. Trotting down the hall, she quickly gestured between the boys. "The tall redhead is Ron, and the other is Harry. This is Tom"

"A pleasure," Tom intoned, tone as neutral as his smile.

"He's the other scholarship winner!" Hermione exclaimed.

"So another know-it-all?" Ron snarked, rolling his eyes at Hermione's glare. "Nice to meet you or whatever, but we're here to help Harry drop his shit off, remember?"

Hermione frowned. "You're being rude, Ronald. I'm not the late one."

"The apartment is right here, Hermione," Harry interrupted, pointing his shoulder at the door.

A flicker of something crossed Tom's face before he held up a key labeled 203. "That's my apartment."

"Oh. Guess you guys are roommates," Hermione smiled, stepping back so Tom could unlock the door.

Tom gave him a quick once over, and Harry fought the urge to flinch. He plastered a fake smile on his face, wishing he had bothered to wear more presentable clothes. He hadn't expected his roommate to be so standoffish and critical.

"Your stuff already in there?" Harry inquired as Tom politely held the door open for them.

"Yes."

"Didn't know they gave the keys out any earlier than noon."

"I had extenuating circumstances."

"Like what?" Ron demanded, thunking Harry's box onto the kitchen counter.

"None of your business," Tom answered calmly. He paused at a nearby door and locked eyes with Harry. "This is my room."

Harry shrugged. "Sounds good."

Tom nodded and gave Hermione a neutral smile again. "A pleasure to meet you, Hermione. I'm sure I will see you around."

"We have a lot of the same classes," Hermione agreed, ignoring Ron as he made faces. "We should study together sometime."

"Perhaps," Tom allowed. He shot Harry another inscrutable look before opening his door and stepping inside. "Have a good afternoon."

Ron snorted as the door closed. "Good afternoon? Who is this freak?"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, crossing her arms and glaring.

"What? He's acting all hoity toity," Ron turned to face Harry. "Offer still stands for you to stay with us."

"Where's he going to sleep, Ron?" Hermione scoffed, "at the foot of your bed?"

He flushed a brilliant red and scowled. "We'll get one of those inflatable beds or something."

"If I wanted to live with someone else, I would have taken Sirius' offer," Harry pointed out, setting his boxes on the counter next to the one Ron had carried. "I want to do my own thing for a while."

"With someone like him?"

Hermione aimed a kick at Ron's shin, who easily dodged it. "There's nothing wrong with Tom. I'm sure he will be an excellent roommate."

"You would think that-"

Harry rolled his eyes and decided to ignore their argument in favor of examining his new home. Immediately to the left of the entrance was the kitchenette.

Against the wall there was a white countertop — a microwave and an electric kettle taking up most of the space — and a single sink. The cabinets underneath were medium brown with golden knobs. A mini fridge stood off to the side.

Past that was a small brown table with two matching chairs. The room then opened up into a medium sized living room with a maroon loveseat in the middle. A small TV stand with a 32' TV sat in front of it. There were two bookshelves on opposite sides. Directly across from Tom's room was another door.

"What's in there?" Ron asked.

Hermione snorted. "I assume it's Harry's room."

"She's right," Harry said, stepping in. The room was about the same size as Dudley's second bedroom, but much more open without all of his cousin's trash. There was a brown three drawer dresser to his right, and a bare twin sized bed to his left. A desk sat under the only window.

"Pretty bare," Ron commented, peering over Harry's shoulder.

"We'll have to go shopping," Hermione agreed.

"There's some stuff over here," Harry said, opening the closet that was right behind the bedroom door. Inside there were sheets, blankets, and pillows, sitting beside a laundry shoot.

"They clean your laundry here?" Hermione inquired.

Harry shrugged. "I think just the bedding and stuff. Not personal laundry."

"Better than me," Ron sighed. "The twins said I have to do their laundry and stuff, since they're letting me stay for free."

"That seems fair," Hermione said, moving out of the way so the boys could exit. "What next?"

"Unpack?" Harry suggested, glancing at Tom's closed door. "You think he's going to stay in there?"

"You wanted to do your own thing," Ron pointed out grumpily. "Easy to do if you never see the guy."

"I suppose…"

"He'll come out eventually," Hermione said decisively, already at the counter with Harry's boxes. "Is there any organization to this? What goes where?"

A few hours later — half an hour spent on dispersing Harry's sparse belongings and the remaining time spent going to various stores — the three of them leaned against the kitchen counter and surveyed their work.

"Well, it looks like someone lives here now," Ron said, staring at his phone.

Hermione smiled at Harry. "Think this will work for you?"

"Yeah," he smiled back, "better than it would have been without you guys."

"My brothers want to come over. They said they'll bring a pizza; have a little party."

"That's not such a good-"

"Not right now, Ron," Harry protested. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk to Tom yet."

"About what? Having friends over?" Ron scoffed. "He can't tell you no."

"That's not the point, Ronald," Hermione interrupted. She shushed him when he opened his mouth. "The point is that it's rude to just throw parties without checking. It's Tom's home as well."

"Well, he can have his friends over sometime. If he has friends."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Maybe another time, Ron. I'm not going to spring the twins on him with no warning. I have to live with this guy."

"Already said you don't HAVE to," Ron grumbled, shoving his phone in his back pocket. "You could still come live with us."

"I want to stay here. I like this dorm and I like being on campus."

"It'll be fine," Hermione said, with a special glower for Ron. Checking her phone, she raised her eyebrows at Harry. "You ok with us going, then? I want to get to my dorm, and I'm sure Ron has something he needs to do as well."

"I do? Shit!" Ron winced when Hermione kicked his shin. "I guess I do have to go; somewhere far from her."

"Ronald!"

Harry escorted the bickering pair to the elevator and waited with them until the door closed. Sighing, he returned to his dorm.

Tom leaned against the wall between his room and the bathroom. The electric kettle was on, and Harry could hear the water beginning to boil.

Tom raised an eyebrow at Harry. Gesturing towards the Hogwarts football banner on the wall, he inquired, "Are you a player, or just a fan?"

"A player," Harry cautiously answered. He had been leery of decorating their shared space, but even Hermione had thought having a school poster up would be alright. "For the Gryffindor team."

Tom's aristocratic face formed a sneer more naturally than it did a smile. The kettle's whistle distracted him from whatever he had been planning on saying. Striding across the room — brushing past Harry so closely that he stumbled back into the wall — Tom pulled a mug from one of the cabinets and filled it. He pulled a tea packet out of a white box, set it into the mug, and set a timer on his phone.

Harry stood still, warily watching his roommate. Tom seemingly ignored him, though, and Harry relaxed enough to step away from the wall. When that elicited no reaction, he took another step towards the kitchen. Tom didn't look up until his timer went off, and he'd pulled the teabag from the mug.

Harry cleared his throat as Tom took a pensive sip; eyeing him over the top of his mug. "So, Tom-"

Tom set his tea down and stepped into Harry's space, backing him into the counter. "You may keep your poster, but do not decorate anywhere else from now on."

"That's fair-" Harry began, pressing as far into the cabinets as he could.

Tom used the few inches of height he had over Harry to loom. "I appreciate that you sent your companions away. There will be no parties here."

Harry scoffed, meeting Tom's unblinking stare. "You can't say no to my friends coming over."

"There is a difference between having friends over and throwing a party," Tom pointed out calmly, before returning to his tea. Taking a slow sip, examining Harry the whole time, Tom swallowed and pushed away from the counter. "But I'm sure we will work it out."

"I guess…" Harry said, keeping his body turned to Tom's as the other boy returned to his room.

Pausing halfway through the doorway, Tom lifted his cup in a friendly salute. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight," Harry replied, but Tom's door was already closed.

#domaystic2023 #domaystic #day 1 #housewarming #harry potter #tom riddle #harry/tom

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