#I FORGOT TO SHARPEN THE GIF ITS OVER

[shovson]

Jenson Button & Andrew Shovlin | Malaysia 2009

[amandacanwrite]

The Bear and the Fox - A Halsin x Reader One Shot

Word Count || About 6,000 Words

Scenario || You are a druid adept that has been imprisoned by Kagha for trying to stop the Rite of Thorns in Halsin's absence. He returns to find you and is none to happy to see it, especially after all you have been through.

POV || 2nd Person, ungendered tav/reader.

CW || mentions of entrapment, trafficking, self-deprecation, trauma. (Please let me know if I forgot anything.)

A/n || I have been a little stressed out and have been using this as a distraction/escape. I would appreciate so much if you all let me know what you think! Requested by the lovely @drabblesandimagines, thank you for the idea and I hope you enjoy it!! Thank you for your patience in waiting for this one!

You’re almost certain Archdruid Halsin doesn’t know you exist, but it doesn’t stop you from being devastated when he doesn’t return to the Emerald Grove from his travels to the nearby goblin camp. Even if he doesn’t remember you, you certainly have never forgotten him. Nor have you been able to wrench your heart from the grip of the merciless pining that has plagued you ever since you woke up on a pile of soft hides on the floor of his vault beneath the temple.. 

The truth is, Archdruid Halsin had saved you. 

You’d been captured, at the time, by a troupe of traveling drow with the intention of taking you deep into the underdark to be used for whatever nefarious purposes they deigned. You were one of many captured, but the only druid in the lot. 

They’d entrapped you in a cage, preventing you from even taking your wildshape to flee. They’d gone between distressing you in both forms, though. They’d seemed to have a particular talent for making you miserable, and in time you’d lost a bit of your humanity to the shape of the russet and auburn fox you often favored. 

When he’d reached in to coax you out with a gentle hand, you pounced on the appendage–far too entrapped in the fear-addled mind of an animal that would sooner gnaw its own foot off than let a hunter find it caught in his leghold trap. 

But he hadn’t flinched; hadn’t even grimaced as you sank your sharpened teeth into the thick flesh of his muscled forearm and tore at it. He’d simply watched calmly as you got it out of your system. When you’d realized he was an unyielding mass of man, you’d backed into the farthest corner of your kennel and cowered. 

“Fear not, little one,” he’d cooed with that gentle, gravelly tone. “You are among friends now. I only wish to ensure you’re uninjured, and you can be on your way to find your mate or your burrow.”

You’d only blinked and he swapped his bleeding arm for his other one. You’d sniffed cautiously before dropping your head and your ears. He’d not needed any other sign, he’d known the way animals communicate; with gestures and body language rather than sounds.

He’d smoothed a hand over your ratty coat; it was the first kind touch you’d felt in months. You’d leaned yourself into it and he’d used the opportunity to scoop you up into his arms. 

Perhaps it was at that moment that you’d fallen for him. Because as soon as you’d registered the strong and tender support of his warm, cradling arms, you’d suddenly realized how exhausted you’d been. You lost hold on your wildshape and changed back to your humanoid form, unclothed and skinny. 

He’d started, adjusted his grip a little clumsily as you’d spilled out of the space he’d allotted in his arms for you; but he didn’t drop you.

“You surprised me, child,” he’d said as you’d started to drift into unconsciousness. “I’d certainly thought it was strange to go through such stringent measures for a single fox, but I see now why they’d made such efforts to keep you entrapped.”

He’d reached up to brush your tangled hair away from your face. “I can see you’re exhausted. Rest now; when you wake, you’ll be safe and warm with a meal and a warm bath awaiting you.”

He hadn’t lied, and the Emerald Grove had quickly become your home in the months and years that had passed since then. You’d seen Halsin around, of course. And he always seemed to have a smile to spare for you as you passed like swans floating in a pond. But you’d never quite been able to find a way to speak to him in private. 

Perhaps it was your fault, you think, as you find yourself in a new cage, heart broken and aching as it seems less and less likely that he will ever be coming back. 

You know Halsin to be strong. He’s a seven foot elf and built like the cave bear he so often likes to take the shape of. But there is only so much a single druid can do on his own, even one as competent as Halsin. 

It hurts to be facing the possibility of rotting in the cells below the grove–below the place that had so much begun to feel like home for you, finally. It hurts to realize you may die here having never told Halsin how you feel about him. 

But perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps it is better to die having never faced the awkward acknowledgement of feeling that could never be returned. 

Halsin has always been effusive, warm, welcoming…brave. 

But there is a reason you chose the fox for your wildshape. 

You have always been furtive, timid, too reliant on a single person. It has always been your nature, but you can’t deny the fundamental absurdity of the fox falling for the bear. At best, you could only be an inconvenient pest to him. You’re sure of that much. 

Still…you miss the sun…you wish you could see it one more time. You’d always wanted to die bathed in the sunlight, not cold and damp in a stone chamber flooded with three inches of water. You curl into yourself, hugging your knees close, trying to remember the feeling of those warm arms around you as the Rite of Thorns continues somewhere above ground, heedless of your pleas for stalling, uncaring of the courage you’d had to summon to stand up to Kagha at all. 

Kagha had never cared much for you; found you weak and miserable. 

Pathetic. That was the word you’d heard bandied around when she didn’t know you were within earshot or when you were cozily cloaked by your shadows. 

“You should have just kept your mouth shut,” you tell yourself. 

But even you don’t really believe that. Not truly. You found kindred spirits in the Teiflings who had come to find refuge in the grove. You’d even played with the children in their little hiding spot beneath the old stone structures. 

When the goblins came screaming the name of the Absolute, when Halsin left to learn more about the parasites, you’d been shocked and frightened by the sudden turn of sentiments against them and gotten swept away in your own outrage over it. As far as you’d been concerned, everyone in the grove should have been well aware of what Halsin would have tolerated. They should have known that he’d want any living being to be safe and fed–especially the children. 

But it’d seemed that even the Emerald Grove druids were merely people; they were just as vulnerable to intimidation, coercion and power hunger as anyone else in Faerun. 

You shiver in the cold and the dank, wishing you could get some rest so that you could take your wildshape and find warmth in the silken texture of your auburn coat. 

You think of the nights curled up by the fire in Halsin’s secret cache while he allowed you a smaller space to acclimate to when you’d first arrive. You remember the feeling of large, gentle hands cradling your small, vulpine body in comfort as you slept. 

It’s at that moment that you hear the scuff of loud, fast foot fall on the decrepit stairs that lead down to this sodden prison. It’s followed by heavy, hurried sloshing before, as if out of thin air, Halsin stands before you. His hands are wrapped around the thick, stone bars of your enclosure so tightly that they are white at the knuckles. His broad chest rises and falls with exertion; or is that emotion? It is hard to know. 

He looks…utterly stricken. So much so that you wonder what happened to devastate him. Did he get back to The Grove to find all of the tieflings slaughtered? Did the tieflings rise up and destroy the grove before the Rite of Thorns could be finished? 

He opens his mouth and you expect terrible news–expect the worst. 

“A-are you alright?” is what he chokes out instead. 

You’re quiet for a moment; the question not making sense to you. Why in the world would he care if you were alright? You were…nobody. A druidic adept that found much more comfort tucked into a nest of blankets than anything else. You’d failed to stop the Rite. You’d failed at almost everything in your life so far. 

Has he…is it too dark down here? Does he think he’s talking to someone else? 

He grits his teeth and starts to wrestle with the door to your cell. 

Its mechanism is like the others in the temple; controlled by a stone tablet which should be placed in the proper slot and then activated with druidic magic. But he’s trying to use his own raw strength to open it. 

“Forgive me,” he grunts as the stone actually begins to give way, heeding his command. “I should have never left you here while The Grove was tangled in so much unrest. Had I thought the Kagha…had I known–”

“Archdruid,” you stammer. “You’re going to hurt yourself–”

“I care not,” he says, his tone taking on an almost ferocious quality that has you lifting your shoulders and shrinking into yourself. “It is you I am most concerned for. You had only just begun to smile and I– because of my negligence I find you entrapped all over again.”

Your mouth drops open as you realize that he actually came down here looking for you. Specifically to find you. To save you again. 

You are small; practically half the size of the archdruid. Yet, you suddenly recognize that he is trying to free you and you are just sitting there like some kind of dead fish. You stand to your feet and hurry over to the bars, grasping two of the other juts of stone and pulling it as he pushes. 

You’re not sure, but for a moment you think you see the barest ghost of a smile before his teeth clench again with effort. 

When the door is finally forced open a few inches, you release the stone. You roll your shoulders, shake out the tension in your hands. You will yourself to become smaller, to become lithe. You will your mouth to grow sharp, unforgiving teeth. You become vulpine. 

You slosh through the water on four padded feet and dash through the opening. 

For a moment, you almost flee up the stairs, ready to retreat to the fresh salty air outside. Ready to resign yourself to life as a fox. 

But Halsin drops to his knees and you look at him as he looks at you. 

He reaches a hand out to you, and you see the faint, silvery scars on his forearm from where you tore into him on the day you met. You sniff at him for a moment, then you shift back to your human form, carefully cradling his arm in your hands. 

“Did it get infected?” you ask. “After I gnawed at you?”

His brow is low and lips turn down at the corners. 

“No,” he says. 

“I don’t understand,” you say. “You shouldn’t have scarred…you should have been able to simply heal yourself.”

“I was able,” he says. “But I was unwilling. I…I didn’t want to forget.”

You look up at him. “Why?” you ask. 

There is the sound of chaos from up the stairs. You turn your head, letting your ears tune into the finer details of it as the quiet ambience of the water dripping and sloshing around you obscures it. As your focus narrows, you hear her. 

“She’s back,” Halsin sneers. “Kagha has finally returned.”

You look at him, your eyes wide as if you’re seeing him for the first time. The expression on his face is nothing short of raw, wild fury. He is the snarl of a wolf, he is the crackle of wildfire, he is the dark promise of death in a row of pointed teeth. 

He draws his arm back, stopping to take both of your small hands in his. His expression softens. “I will tell all,” he says. “But not before I punish the one who did this to you. Not before I see justice properly served for all of the disarray and cruelty enacted in my absence.”

You try to find a way to answer, but you can’t, settling instead for a dumbfounded nod. 

He stands and, once at his full height, shifts the position of his hand to cradle yours; offering you help, but also offering you the chance to help yourself. You grasp that hand and he tightens the muscles of his arms as you use his strength and stability to get yourself back up to your feet. 

“I am loathe to leave you down in this terrible place…but if you’re too frightened to face her…” he offers. 

“I’m not…” you say. “O-or at least I won’t be…not with you there.”

He graces you with the first real smile he’s given you since he suddenly appeared before you and you think you may no longer need the sun if he can continue looking at you just like that. 

“Come,” he says. “I want you to be part of this discussion.”

You follow Halsin, dwarfed in his shadow as you ascend the craggy steps, your soft leather shoes uncomfortably soggy and embarrassingly loud as you go. It feels almost surreal to be acknowledged by Halsin. Even more strange that he remembers you–that he seemed to have come to seek you out before anything else. 

There are more questions than answers immediately available, and you’re not sure you’ll have the nerve to ask those questions when all is said and done. 

When Halsin reaches the top of the stairs, he stops and looks back at you, giving you a calm smile as you quicken the pace of your last few steps to catch up with you. 

Now that you’re in better light, his brow faintly tenses and he reaches out for you. You go utterly still as he places two of his fingertips under the very tip of your chin, using the most minute bit of pressure to turn your face. 

“You’re hurt,” he says. “I didn’t see it in the darkness of the cells.”

You’d forgotten about the injury on your face–it’s not one you’d actually gotten to see before you were imprisoned, but you’d felt it throbbing for the entire day you were there. 

“It’s just a bruise,” you say. 

He removes his hand from beneath your chin and draws those same finger tips carefully over the curve of your brow. You wince slightly as he touches the most tender part and shakes his head. 

“There’s a split in your brow,” he says. “It will scar…”

You heave a little breathy chuckle. “Perhaps it will make me look more distinguished,” you say as you meet his hazel eyes. “You certainly wear them well.”

His heartbroken expression eases up and he shakes his head, hesitant amusement on his face. “If I wear them well, then you’ll be exquisite as ever with your own,” he says. “Still–that you were hurt because of my absence–”

“The fox was caught sticking it’s nose where it didn’t belong and was appropriately punished for it,” A familiar, haughty voice interrupts. “Don’t let the little bandit fill your head with untruths.”

Halsin takes your hand in his and pulls you slightly behind him as he also moves to block you from Kagha’s sight. It’s a protective measure, but he doesn’t force you to hide. Instead, it feels like he’s asserting his position as your protector–as the protector of any who are weaker than him–while allowing your agency to remain intact should you wish to take the lead.

“I don’t want to hear about your paranoia Kagha–I’ve heard enough of it to turn my stomach,” he says, that gravelly voice gaining an almost abrasive quality. “Tell me why I shouldn’t turn you out–or hand you over the shadow druids you’ve been cavorting with?” 

You watch as Kagha goes pale and your stomach churns with a dizzying mixture of nausea and fear. 

The shadow druids. The order of druidic magic that lay closest to the dark. The drow, the deep gnomes, Shar. Everything that represents the terror you’d once experienced crammed into a too-small cage. 

How could she? How could she want to work with them?! And then to have a nerve to call you a fox in the hen house. 

“I didn’t do anything,” you say, your voice quiet but steady. “I was only looking for a way to convince you that we needn’t go through with the ritee…”

“By snooping in places you DON'T belong,” Kagha says. 

“Perhaps it is you who does not belong here,” you snap. 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Halsin growls. “You do not deserve to remain here, yet it is Nature who will determine what becomes of you. One thing is certain: my teachings have clearly not made the difference here. You are to start anew—be made a novice once again.”

“You can’t do that—“ Kagha starts. 

“I am the First Druid in this Grove and I will do whatever I see fit to protect the people who call this place their home!” Halsin booms. “Kagha, you failed me. You failed everyone who relied on you!”

“That fox is an outsider. Ever since you pulled it in by its scruff it has done nothing but consume priceless resources and shrink into the corner like a frightened rodent. If you so crave balance—“

“Enough!” Halsin barks. “I will hear no more of this.”

“But—“ Kagha says. 

“I said enough. Get out of my sight before I lose hold of my humanity and tear you to shreds,” Halsin snarled. 

He says it loudly and deeply enough that it echoes in the stone chamber. Even you flinch a bit at the sudden fury coming off of him. You can almost smell it coming off of him–the adrenaline, the willingness to fight and gnash at Kagha. 

Kagha has the good sense to dip her head in deference. 

“Understood, First Druid Halsin,” she says. 

“Good,” he says, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “Now. Apologize.”

Her head snaps up again and her gaze slides over to you, sharp as an arrowhead. The silence between you carries the same anticipatory nausea of waiting for a cobra to strike. You can sense quite well that Kagha may be properly chastened for her actions in the grove, but her opinion of you seems to remain the same. 

Pathetic, you remember. That’s what you are to her. 

“It’s fine,” you say. “I’m just happy to be free again.”

“No,” he commands. “It is not fine. You did what was right and were punished for it. Kagha. Will. Apologize.”

Your heart stutters and pounds in your ears. You know Halsin means well. You know he is angry on your behalf, and that he wants to see you treated kindly, but you don’t like confrontation.You think that ferocity is meant to be directed to Kagha, but you’re not entirely sure. Flashes of terror and confusion climb out of the burial ground of your mind. Memories of a cramped cage, the smell of blood, the sound of pained mewling, angry shouting in a language you don’t understand and the pain of punishment when a command you didn’t understand was not followed.

You don’t want this display; you do not want to be the vehicle of this lesson. You don’t want to rock the boat unless the situation is absolutely dire; especially now that you’ve proven just how little efficacy you have when you insert yourself into the matters of people who do not like you or simply have more investment in their own interests than in the interests of the collective. It feels like a leg snare waiting to lock down on you and you’re not sure you can escape it this time.

The tension between Halsin and Kagha sings at a tenor that pierces your ears. Or is that your adrenaline? You’re not sure. Whatever it is, your muscles are sore and aching; wound tightly and ready to spring at the first sight of danger; the first sign of movement toward you.

Halsin spares a glance your way, perhaps sensing that growing tension. Your eyes dart up to his as your body starts to tremble, not with fear, but with the urge to act. You are a small, scrappy creature locked in a stand-off with a larger predator. 

His expression softens, looking almost apologetic. 

“Easy, little one,” he says as he reaches his hand out to touch you. 

Your mind is more feral than human by then. Just before he can actually touch you, you drop into a crouch and dart away from him, your heart hammering painfully against your sternum like an animal backed in a cage. You feel that wild urge to scratch, to gnaw, to snarl. 

His expression drops into one of worry, his guilt clear in his expression and in the way he bends at the knees, lowering himself and making himself small like one might when trying to calm an injured animal. 

“You are safe, dear one,” he says. “You are safe.”

You don’t believe him. It doesn’t feel safe here, not anymore. Perhaps never again. 

A sound comes from behind you and you lurch forward, losing your footing on your slick, damp boots, falling hard onto the palms of your hands before you get back up to your feet and fly through the old temple and scrambling out of the door. 

You simply run, your mind a blur of colors and raw, terrible fear. You can’t even register and savor the feeling of the sun on your skin or the sweet, salty breeze coming off of the lower cove. You run, and run, and run until familiar sights bleed into unfamiliar ones; until the wound up tension in your muscles gives way to trembling exhaustion. 

You don’t immediately recognize where you are, but you find a little alcove tucked into a glen of oak trees, their trunks fat with age and their canopies heavy with acorns and boughs full of leaves. 

The sun shines through the eaves, coloring the long grasses in deep emeralds and dappled yellow light. You sit against one of the trees, feeling the steady presence of Sylvanus as you gulp in desperate, exhausted breaths, your heart still hammering loudly in your ears. You rest your head back against the tree and close your eyes for just a moment. You breathe, and then you breathe again. Distance from the grove gives you a moment to realize just what being in that place was doing to you. 

The politics, the prejudice, the precarious balance between the available resources and the people who needed them most. You always do better on your own. There’s a reason the form of a fox comes to you most naturally; they aren’t pack animals. As it so happens, apparently, neither are you. 

So why had you stayed so long? 

The fear of being captured again, perhaps. 

Or maybe it was the Teiflings–you’d found a little group of friends among them; enjoyed sharing a drink with Dammon once in a while. 

But neither of those seem to ring true for you, in reality. 

No, what really seems to be the reason is the other part of foxes that makes the most sense to you. 

That they tend to find a mate, have a family, and remain with them for life. 

A reality you’d spent the last several years trying to avoid. Because there was only really one person keeping you at the grove. And that person was Halsin. 

He’s just…

He’s everything you wish you could be. 

He’s everything you wish you could have.

But you can’t. Because at the end of the day you’re just some animal, fleeing the first offer of help and biting down on the hand that feeds you. There’s regret in this moment. Regret that you will never get to inquire about the expressions on Halsin’s face; about the reasons he came to free you so quickly. 

But the regret gives way to exhaustion and as you soak in the speckled rays of sunlight, feeling truly warmed for the first time in days–perhaps even weeks–you drift into a dreamless sleep. 

It’s the quiet sound of metal against wood that wakes you. 

The manner in which you wake is not a lurch; not an abrupt burst of movement that feels like you’re gasping for air. It’s the slow, soft blinking of an afternoon nap becoming an evening laze. In breathe in through your nose, slow and deep, faintly aware of the feeling of soft fur against your bare feet. 

You feel swaddled by warmth. Wrapped in the familiar scents of clove, moss and tobacco. 

You finally open your eyes and find a fire crackling before you, hemmed in by stones half-darkened by clay, as if someone collected them recently to guard the oaks from the danger of an unkempt flame. 

You don’t put it together at first that you’ve been moved; specifically that you’ve been laid down within a comfortable bedroll. That the smell infused into the furs is comforting because of the man sitting not even a few feet away; the source of the sound of metal against wood. 

You crane your head up to find him. Halsin Silverbough quietly focused on a block of soft wood, whittling away at it. You just watch him for a few seconds, almost dazed that he’s here with you. 

“Is this a dream?” You ask. 

His knife slips a little clumsily, he hadn’t noticed you were awake. He drops his hands into his lap and turns his head to smile down at you. 

“Do I often visit you in your dreams, dear heart?” he asks. 

Hearing that gravelly timbre and that tender pet name sets your blood on fire. You feel a flush rising to your face and you can’t keep from bringing the covers up to hide the evidence. His eyes crinkle with mirth and he lets out a pleasant, easy laugh. The easiest you’ve heard him laugh in…well, ever. 

“Forgive me for laughing,” he says, setting his little project aside. “You gave me quite a scare when you ran off like that. But I suppose I can’t blame you for reacting that way…I know how hard it is for you when tension is high. Forgive me for being inconsiderate of those feelings by making you the instrument of Kagha’s repentance.”

You’re quiet for a long time, unsure what to say. You finally settle for, “How far did I run?”

His brows rise a bit and he heaves out a bit of a grumbling breath as he thinks about it. “Hard for me to ever tell how long a distance is, but we’re somewhere near the goblin camp at that old temple of Selune,” he says. “Lucky for us that I cleared it with a group of adventurers today. Otherwise, I fear I would have made things much worse for you by tackling you down before you could get too close to their camp.”

You bite the inside of your lip, trying not to imagine your body tangling with his. Your face is red enough. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you say, still beneath the covers. “I was so devastated when you didn’t come back from the goblin camp.”

“I’ve been worrying about you since I left,” he says. “I was…I wasn’t behaving calmly when I found you. I wasn’t acting in a way befitting a First Druid.”

“No one is above their own natural drives,” you say. “Anger is a natural reaction to disobedience.”

He looks at you, his brow creasing. “You think I was angry because Kagha disobeyed me?” he says. 

“It’s as good a reason as any,” you say. 

He inhales. Hesitates. Then inhales again before saying, “You asked me about the scars on my arm. Why I didn’t want to forget them.”

“Yes,” you say. “But then Kagha came back…”

“I know,” he says. “But I’d like to answer that question now. Now that I’m calm.”

There’s something in his gaze that feels heavy and significant. You slowly rise from your position tucked away in the bedroll, letting the furs fall away from you. You notice, now, that your damp boots have been placed on the other side of the fire to dry, along with your socks. A small act of care a lesser man may have never thought to do for you. 

You turn to face Halsin and he turns to face you. 

“When we found you…that day with the drow,” he says. “You…reminded me of something I went through as a young adept. A time in which I was kept as an unwilling guest in a drow lord’s estate. As time goes on, it’s easy to forget those things that have happened to me, or to minimize what I went through. 

“In truth, I admired you. I admired how you snarled and gnashed at my hand when you were barely the size of my forearm. I admired the way you reached out for care when I housed you while you got back on your feet…for a while I feared that you were never going to heal. But then I realized that you were strong in a different way…in a way that I was not.”

“I’m not strong,” you say, shaking your head. 

“You are,” he insists. “Strength is not only measured in brute force. It’s not measured in violence and demands and power. It’s in how you wake up every day, how you rise out of your bed and try to be better than the day before. What I experienced…I shoved it deep down inside of me until the pain was forgotten, but I watched you facing yours every day.”

You’re shocked to hear this, because in your recollection you struggled each day. In the beginning, you were frightened of everyone and everything, and the only thing that allowed you to function at all was the desire to be worth the effort Halsin made in saving you. 

“Then…then I learned of you trying to stop the Rite of Thorns, and of you winding up imprisoned again in the very place you should have been safest,” he says, his anger a quiet undercurrent as he remembers newly. “I was so terrified that you would fully retreat back inside yourself, but then you stood and put your small hands on the stone door, snarling at your entrapments just as you were that day I met you.”

You remember his smile, a brief flash when you came to help. 

“Am I still strong if I run away from the grove?” you ask. 

“You wish to leave?” he asks. 

“...I’ve realized, Halsin,” you say, your voice quivering. “I’m not well suited for the social hurdles involved with remaining with the druids…and that the only reason I’ve stayed is because…”

You swallow tightly, words lodging in your throat. Halsin is silent, ever patient as he waits for you to speak. 

“Halsin, I have loved you for some time now, I think,” you say. “I know that I am young and that I can’t hope to compete with your past lovers or even the braver druids back at the grove. I know that you hardly have the time for romance, and that even if you did, you likely wouldn’t spend that precious time with me–”

“Hah…you sound so certain,” he says, his voice quiet and contemplative. 

It’s your turn to be silent, now. You bring your gaze up to meet his again and he is smiling so gently at you. “The only reason,” he says finally, “the only reason that I have not invited you to my bed is that I didn’t want to cause you inadvertent harm by placing pressure on you that you wouldn’t have the resolve to deflect. I didn’t want to risk my position as the first druid making you feel as if you couldn’t say no to me.”

You blink, the world coming to a screeching halt around you. 

Halsin…wants you? You?

You shake your head, feeling your face begin to blaze like you’ve come down with a fever. 

“Well, I suppose it’s moot,” you say. “I can’t expect you to leave the Emerald Grove with me.”

“You don’t have to,” he says. “I’ve already left.”

“What?” you say. 

“Did you think I packed a bedroll and a pack just to come retrieve you?” he says through a chuckle before he heaves out a rough sigh. “No, truth be told, my heart, I have long become disillusioned with my place among the druids in the grove and with you and the ache of old pains, I can no longer say that my heart is fully in it. The adventurers who released me…they are making their way to the shadowlands and I hope that if I join them, I can undo an old failure from a century ago. Finally heal the ache instead of simply avoiding it. I’m hoping that I can be more like you.”

You feel breathless for a moment, even more so when his eyes lock on yours. 

“It will be frightening, my love,” he says. “The shadow curse makes the underdark look like a stroll after midnight. But if you still feel the way you’ve told me you do and if you can trust me to continue protecting you, I would have you in my tent with me greeting each day together.”

You don’t speak, not because you’re uncertain, but because you want to savor this moment. 

Halsin loves you.

The bear has fallen for the fox. 

And he wants you by his side. 

It is the purest bliss you have ever felt. You think you could die happily in the shadow cursed lands if it is a sacrifice you make for him. 

You will protect him. 

And he will protect you. 

“Dear heart,” Halsin says, his nerves coming through his voice. “You torture me by keeping me in suspense. Please know if you don’t wish for this you needn’t agree. I know what I ask of you is–”

“I’m going with you,” you say freeing him from the discomfort you’ve resided in for years. “Of course I’m going with you, Halsin.”

The smile he gives you is nothing short of miraculous. 

“Nature blesses me with you,” he says. “Now come here, I need to enjoy you before I take you to meet the others. I have waited so very long for the opportunity, and I have until nightfall to make good on it, if you will have me.”

The image of your body tangled with his appears in your mind’s eye again. You rise to your feet and stride over to him, slipping your fingers into his wild hair. He cups the back of your thigh with a large hand before coaxing you to sit on his lap. 

Where he kisses you for the very first time.

May the oak father bless you with countless others. 

Taglist|| @itty-bitty-dancer @thoughts-of-bear @tryingtowritestuff24 @drabblesandimagines @soupaisu @ladyoakenshield157 @ladytesla @incrediblethirst @baldurs-gate-simp @themidnighttiger @rayskittles33 @hippiewrites @whisperingwillowxox @ethereal-sk1es @cosywinterevenings @themartiansdaughter @brain-has-left @any59 @madwomansapologist @midnightmoonytales @unaliveoni @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @kellerybird @tiedyedghoulette @jenn-duncan @thelittledoe @esotericeribos @robingreysantos @erwinmybeloved @itdobe-foggy @witchywannabe3263 @kaimxri @cryingoverpixelsetc @theoriginalannoyingbird

[winxanity-ii]

TOUCH IT

ship: gojo x fem!empath!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (p in v, fingering); overstimulation word count: 7.0k (omg, i forgot to post this; it was originally supposed to be 2-parts but i just let it all stay together 🥹long fic again, i promise kast time jajaja... ) A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that i'm reposting this from my alt account, lulu-4-u in case you've seen this posted before...

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The strongest sorcerer to ever live, in all the heavens and the earth, feared by cursed spirits alike, was… bored.

Lounging in his seat, Gojo Satoru let out a low hum, his head tipped back lazily as the council droned on and on about his newest mission.

The weight of the room was thick with tension, but none of it seemed to touch him. His fingers tapped a careless rhythm on the armrest, legs spread out in front of him, exuding a carelessness that bordered on irreverence.

"…growing threat…potentially catastrophic…dangerous sorcerer…" The words buzzed around his head like an annoying fly he had no intention of swatting away.

He exhaled through his nose, continuing his little hum as the head councilman's voice grew more insistent. The man's brows were knitted together, speaking with all the gravity that someone in his position ought to muster.

But it was all white noise to Satoru—at least, until—

"Gojo."

A beat.

"Gojo, this is serious. Pay attention..." The councilman's voice sliced through the monotony, sharp enough to make him lazily shift his head to the side.

Slowly, Satoru turned his head, letting his neck roll as he turned his attention to the source of the command. His eyes, usually hidden behind his shades, seemed to sharpen with the motion, focusing like a hawk about to strike.

Even through the dark lenses, the icy intensity of his gaze bore down on the man. His smile stayed in place—easy, almost playful—but his stare was dead.

Empty.

It was a predator's look, concealed beneath the mask of casual indifference.

A tremor rippled through the room. The councilmen around him shifted in their seats, unease crawling up their spines as they suddenly remembered exactly who they were addressing.

The strongest. The untouchable. The one who smiled but never truly revealed his hand.

"So..." Satoru's voice was deceptively light, a mocking tilt to his words as he spoke. "You want me to take out this 'big bad' or whatever, yeah? Because they're, like, super dangerous and might cause some, I dunno, world-ending chaos?" He let the sentence drag, his smile never faltering, but his eyes remained locked on the councilman like a wolf sizing up its prey. "That about sum it up?"

The councilman, clearly rattled, swallowed hard. His voice faltered as he stammered out a weak, "Y-yes, correct."

Satoru sighed, long and exaggerated, before standing up in one smooth motion. His towering frame unfolded effortlessly, drawing every eye in the room.

Stretching his arms above his head, he dragged a hand through his snowy hair, letting out a groan as though this entire affair was just a mild inconvenience to him. "Alright, alright," he drawled, adjusting his shades as he flashed them another easy grin. "Let's just get this over with."

You were carefully decorating the last of the cupcakes, smoothing the frosting into perfect swirls, when the familiar ding of the bakery bell rang through the back. "Just a minute!" you called out, wiping your hands on the apron tied snugly around your waist.

It was just you on the morning shift today—your coworker had called out last minute, promising to take your afternoon shift so you wouldn't have to pull a double.

Not something you were unfamiliar with, but still, it left you scrambling to deal with the shop alone.

Your fingers were still a little sticky with frosting, and you knew there were probably a few smudges on your face, but you couldn’t keep a customer waiting.

Quickly, you smoothed your apron down, pushing through the swinging door that led to the front of the shop.

As you stepped behind the counter, the first thing you noticed was a figure crouched down, examining the glass display case where rows of colorful cupcakes, cakes, and pastries were lined up neatly.

From your angle, you could only see their side profile—a tall, lean figure, slightly hunched as they squatted low, eyes fixed on the sugary treats.

You scurried behind the register, hastily plastering on your customer service smile. "Hi! How can I help you—?" Your sentence trailed off, the words drying up in your throat as the figure slowly rose to full height, straightening out.

Your hand froze mid-motion as you adjusted your glasses, your face warming with an instant, involuntary blush. Standing before you was quite possibly the most striking person you'd ever seen.

His hair was the first thing to catch your eye—white as freshly fallen snow, a stark contrast against the black suit that clung to his lithe, muscled frame. He wore it effortlessly: black business pants, a sleek turtleneck, and a long jacket draped over his shoulders in a way that screamed confidence.

But it was his eyes that left you breathless. The brightest, most piercing shade of blue you had ever seen, framed by delicate, pale lashes.

They gleamed behind a pair of circular glasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose, as if he’d forgotten they were even there. His head tilted slightly, curiously, like he was taking you in just as you were gawking at him.

There was something both playful and intimidating in the way he smiled—a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes but made your heart race all the same.

Your breath caught, and you fumbled with the edge of your apron, trying desperately to calm the heat that was crawling up your neck. You quickly shook yourself out of your stupor, blinking rapidly as if to reset your brain. "Y-yes! W-we have plenty to choose from," you stammered, forcing your voice to steady itself.

Your heart raced, the thumping in your chest almost deafening as your eyes darted anywhere but at him, unable to hold his gaze for too long without feeling your cheeks heat up all over again. "Is there... um, anything in particular you're looking for?"

The man didn’t respond right away, and you half wondered if he hadn’t noticed your nervousness—or maybe he was just too polite to say anything about it. But the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips said otherwise.

He knew.

Of course he knew.

He hummed thoughtfully, the sound deep and drawn out, leaning casually against the glass display case. His hand came up to prop his head up as he tilted it slightly, his lips forming a small pout. "Hmm... I'm not sure. I'm looking for something... sweet." His voice dipped on the last word as if he wasn't just talking about pastries.

Your breath hitched, and you could feel the flush of embarrassment crawl up your neck again. You scrambled to maintain your composure, glancing down at the cupcakes and cookies like they held the answers to his cryptic request.

From his Satoru's perspective, you barely reached his chest. He couldn't help but notice how tiny you looked in comparison, especially with your hair tied up into a neat, tight bun, a silk scarf wrapped around your head as if to keep stray strands in check.

You wore a baking apron that was thoroughly covered in flour, smudges of icing trailing from your hands to your face, and a couple of spots dabbed on your cheeks.

The glasses perched on your nose kept slipping down, and you pushed them up in a quick, nervous motion every time they fell.

Your wide, inquisitive eyes blinked up at him, and he noted the light freckles dusted across the bridge of your nose.

Cute.

Everything about you—from the shy glances to the nervous fidgeting—made him want to toy with you, just a little.

"Well, if you're looking for sweet, we have a variety of cupcakes that are really popular," you offered, your voice wavering slightly as you gestured towards the rows of neatly frosted confections. "Or, um, cookies... cakes..." Your words trailed off as his gaze lingered on you, and it felt as though the temperature in the room had gone up a few degrees.

He didn't seem particularly interested in the pastries, though. His eyes remained on you, as if you were far more interesting than anything in the display case.

"Hmm, that's tempting," he murmured, his smirk growing just a little wider. His eyes flickered to the cupcakes, but only for a brief moment before they returned to you. "But I think I'm in the mood for something... softer."

Your heart did a somersault at the way he emphasized the last word words, and you couldn't help but wonder just what exactly this man was getting at.

"O-oh, softer?" You fumbled, trying desperately to keep your brain from melting. You forced yourself to focus, tapping your fingers nervously against the counter. "W-we have some cream-filled pastries, if that's more to your taste?" you managed to choke out, trying to keep your voice steady.

Whatever it was, you weren't sure how much longer you could handle it without combusting on the spot.

"Maybe..." He dragged the word out, enjoying the way you squirmed under his attention. "But what would you recommend?" His voice dipped again, lower, almost teasing, like he wasn't just asking about pastries anymore.

"I-I'll just choose something!" you stammered, turning quickly before you could embarrass yourself further.

Your pulse raced as you headed to the back, reaching for the dessert you had made earlier—a strawberry cheesecake, heavily decorated and sweet.

It was indulgent, something you'd crafted for yourself during a quiet moment, filled with all the sugary indulgence you allowed yourself on rare occasions.

You pulled out a small slice, plating it carefully, your fingers trembling slightly as you arranged it perfectly.

When you returned to the counter, you placed a small sample in front of him, offering it with shaky hands. "Here, try this," you said, your voice softer than you’d intended.

He didn't need any further prompting. With a smooth, almost languid motion, he picked up the small fork you offered and took a bite.

You watched as the dessert disappeared into his mouth, his lips curling upward in a satisfied hum. The moment his eyes brightened, a wave of pride hit you. A low, pleased hum escaped him, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

He savored it, his gaze flickering back to you with delighted approval, as though the simple dessert had been crafted by the hands of gods.

"This is fantastic," he murmured, the praise making your chest tighten. "Where do you get this from? Who made it?"

You glanced away, feeling your face flush under his stare. "I, um... I made it."

"You did?"

With a small nod, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to focus on the task at hand. "Y-yes, I made it this morning."

His lips twitched into an amused grin, but this time, his eyes didn’t stay on your face. "Well, that explains why it's so perfect..." His gaze, deliberate and slow, trailed downwards, lingering for a long moment on your chest. It wasn't subtle—he wanted you to notice. You felt the heat creeping up your neck as his eyes lingered on your name tag.

"...____," he read aloud, his voice low and teasing, drawing out each letter. He let the name hang in the air for a moment, before lifting his gaze back to your flushed face.

The intensity of his gaze, combined with the deliberate way he said your name, sent a jolt of awareness through you. You tried to keep your composure, your hands trembled slightly as you packed up the rest of the cheesecake, placing the box on the counter.

"Here you are, Mr...." You trailed off, realizing you didn’t know his name. Your eyes flickered up to meet his again, a silent question hanging in the air.

He caught your hesitation, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Satoru," he said smoothly, the name rolling off his tongue like a secret only he was sharing with you.

You swallowed hard, nodding quickly as you cleared your throat. "R-right. Mr. Satoru." You glanced at the register, trying to refocus as you gave him the total softly.

He blinked in mild surprise, his smirk widening. "That's practically half off from the price on the card," he remarked, amusement evident in his voice.

You could feel your face grow impossibly warmer. "O-oh, um..." Your lips fell into a small pout as you avoided his gaze, your hand twitching up to adjust your glasses again in a nervous habit. "I-it's no big deal. I mean, I like to, uh, give stuff to new customers... in hopes that they return, yeah..."

Your voice trailed off, and you immediately wanted to kick yourself for the weak excuse. But it was too late now. You shrugged your shoulders, trying to act nonchalant, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

Satoru's chuckle made your heart skip a beat. Even his laughter sounded handsome, deep and melodic, sending your pulse racing. "Is that so?" he mused, his voice holding a playful edge. His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cheesecake, and your breath caught in your throat.

"Well, I'll definitely be back... ____."

He winked, and you nearly melted on the spot as he turned toward the door. With a casual wave, he added, "See you soon, Sweets," leaving you standing there, flustered and wide-eyed, barely able to process what had just happened.

The bell above the door rang as he left, and only then did you release the breath you had been holding. You stood there, staring after him, your heart still pounding in your chest.

Sweets?

A few hours later, the warmth of the late afternoon sun filtered through the bakery’s front windows, casting long shadows across the floor as you wiped down the counters.

It had been a relatively quiet shift after he left, though your heart was still recovering from the encounter. As you finished up, the front door swung open with a familiar jingle, and you turned to see your coworker rushing in.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry I'm late!" The boy practically stumbled through the door, one hand frantically adjusting the tie of his high school uniform, the other pushing his hair back in a desperate attempt to look more presentable. "I got caught up in something!"

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his flustered state. Itadori Yuji, always full of energy and apologies, was like a golden retriever in human form—warm, friendly, and almost comically eager to please. His messy pink hair and wide, bright eyes gave him an air of youthful enthusiasm, and his genuine smile could light up a room.

"It's fine, Yuji," you said with a laugh, waving him off as you headed to the back to grab your things. "You're not that late."

He smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he finally finished fixing his uniform. "Still, I hate being late. Promise it won't happen again, if it does, I owe you lunch!"

"Deal," you replied, opening your locker and pulling out your bag. As you walked back toward him, you noticed his name tag was crooked, dangling off one pin. With a quick flick of your hand, you reached out to fix it, adjusting it until it sat neatly on his chest.

"There," you said, looking up at him with a soft smile. "Much better." His warm grin mirrored your own as he stood there, slightly flustered but grateful. "Have a good shift, Yuji. Oh, and the manager should be stopping by later to check in on you."

"Thanks!" he said, already grabbing an apron and getting ready to dive into work. "I’ll handle it. You get out of here and enjoy your break!"

You gave him a small wave and turned to leave, but just as you reached the door, you heard him call out behind you. "Y/N!" Yuji's voice was filled with enthusiasm, and you turned to see him waving both hands energetically, grinning from ear to ear. "Goodbye! See you tomorrow!"

You waved back, shaking your head with a fond smile as you stepped outside, the cool afternoon air brushing against your skin.

You allowed yourself to get lost in the rhythm of your steps as you strolled home, your mind wandering as you took in the sights and sounds around you—the rustling of leaves, the distant hum of traffic, and the occasional chatter of people passing by.

It was a rare moment of peace after the hectic shift, a brief escape from the buzz of daily life.

As you rounded the corner, something unexpected caught your eye—a small form, huddled on the edge of the sidewalk.

Your pace slowed as you approached, your brow furrowing in concern.

It was a cat, lying awkwardly on its side, its fur matted and dirty. A quick glance told you it had been hit by something, maybe a car or someone careless.

Normally, you would have continued walking, not wanting to get too involved. But just beyond the cat, two tiny kittens sat mewling helplessly, their cries piercing the quiet air.

Your heart clenched at the sight.

With a soft sigh, you crouched down, inching closer to the injured cat. It hissed at you, its eyes wild with pain and fear, its body tense as it tried to protect its young. But you ignored the warning sounds, reaching out slowly, gently, until your fingers brushed under its chin.

"Hey, it’s okay," you whispered, your voice soft and soothing.

At your touch, the cat stiffened for a moment before going completely lax, its body relaxing against the ground. You stroked it tenderly, watching in quiet as the distended paw began to shift, the bones cracking softly back into place.

You could almost feel the snap of pain yourself, a sharp ache spreading through your own wrist as the cat's injury healed before your eyes.

After a few seconds, the paw was as good as new. The cat stood, shaking itself off, and without a second glance at you, it gathered its kittens and disappeared into the safety of the alleyway.

You remained crouched there for a moment, watching the small family as they vanished from sight, the ache in your wrist growing stronger.

Slowly, you straightened up, flexing your fingers as the pain began to dull. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but it didn't make it any easier to bear.

Feelings.

That's all you'd ever known. Whether you wanted to or not.

All your life, you'd felt things—things you shouldn't be able to feel.

Anger from your neighbors down the hall as they argued about their personal issues, envy from classmates who resented your successes, and worst of all, the fear radiating from your parents as they stood helpless, unable to comfort you through your relentless sobs.

You could feel their confusion, their frustration.

But at the end of it all, they couldn't fix something they couldn't see.

Over time, it grew—your ability to feel. At first, it was just emotions. You could sense a slight shift in someone’s mood, a flicker of sadness or anger, just an inkling of what they were going through. But soon, it became more than that.

You began to feel their thoughts, whispers that echoed faintly in your mind, giving you glimpses of what lay beneath their surface emotions.

And then... it escalated. Suddenly, you could feel everything.

Whatever someone was going through—physically or emotionally—washed over you like a wave. Their pain became your pain. Their joy became your joy. It all found its way to you.

No matter how far you distanced yourself, it clung to you like a shadow.

It was overwhelming, relentless, like you were drowning in the feelings of others with no way to claw your way to the surface.

As the years went by, your condition worsened. What started as a manageable, if confusing, ability turned into a burden too heavy to bear.

The world became unbearable. Every day was agony, the constant onslaught of emotions and sensations from those around you leaving you raw, exhausted, and desperate for relief.

The cacophony of the city—the anger, the fear, the pain—was like a living entity, clawing at your skin, leaving you shaking and fragile.

Your parents were at a loss. They didn't understand what was happening to you, couldn't see the invisible weight pressing down on your soul. They could only watch as you withdrew further, your silence growing more suffocating by the day.

When your father finally made a call to a buddy—a man who had a cousin that owned a small apartment complex on the edge of the city—it was an act of desperation.

They didn't know what else to do.

So, at fifteen, they sent you away. The cousin gave your parents a deal, allowing them to pay for three years of rent upfront for the ‘penthouse’—a small, one-bedroom apartment that was anything but luxurious.

It was decrepit, cheap, and hidden away in an area most people avoided. The walls were stained with years of neglect, the air thick with the smell of dust and mold.

But it was quiet. Isolated.

And for the first time, you were alone with your thoughts.

Alone with the pain.

But that wasn't the only thing you had to deal with. Upon leaving home, you unknowingly stepped into a new world—a world of curses and sorcerers.

It happened by accident, of course. During one of your bad days, when the weight of others' emotions became too much to bear, you found yourself overwhelmed, losing control, but this time was different.

This time, it happened in public.

You don't remember exactly how you ended up on that street, or why you couldn’t move your legs when you wanted to run. All you knew was that your chest was heaving, your heart pounding, and everything was too loud, too bright.

The emotions pouring out of you were anything but silent. They radiated outward like a tidal wave, flooding the space around you. People nearby started to feel it—your pain, your panic.

The air grew heavy with the thick, chaotic energy you couldn't control.

You didn't know it at the time, but there had been sorcerers nearby. They had been in the middle of an exorcism, dealing with a high-grade curse just down the block. But your outburst—your instability—had thrown everything into disarray.

By the time you calmed down, the sorcerers had won their battle, but the damage was done.

You were on their radar.

At first, the solitude was a relief. The absence of people meant an absence of feelings—no more sadness seeping through the walls, no more anger gracing your vision from out of nowhere, no more envy creeping in with every inhale of breath, rattling you to the bone. But as the years passed, the silence became suffocating in a different way.

You found yourself missing the world outside, the life you had once known slipping further and further away. And yet... somehow, you survived.

As the years passed, you learned to cope with your abilities. Instead of rejecting the constant barrage of feelings, you began to embrace them, to accept the pain and emotion as part of you.

It was hard, terrifying even, at first.

There were times when the spasms would hit, your body wracked with the pain of others, and you'd think you were slipping back into the endless agony of your youth. But you learned to shake it off, to focus, and slowly, everything would melt into the background.

Now, at twenty-three, you've managed to regain some semblance of normalcy. You work part-time at a small bakery just a block away from the apartment, a quiet job that doesn't demand too much interaction with people.

And as you've grown more confident in yourself, so too have your powers.

Now, not only can you feel and change others' emotions, but you've learned to take away their pain as well—absorbing it into yourself, inadvertently healing them.

You glanced down at your wrist, the ache in your wrist from earlier was a reminder of that, the subtle way your body absorbs and dissipates pain.

You didn't know when it started exactly, but the more you leaned into your ability, the more you realized how much power you had over others' emotions—and their suffering.

Arriving home, you expected to be a typical Friday night of you sitting comfortably on your worn-out couch, book in hand, ready to lose yourself in another evening of quiet solitude.

But the buzz of your phone said otherwise.

Your best friend, Sumi, didn't give you a second before launching into an excited explanation about some classmates going out to celebrate the end of exam season and begged you to join them. She pointed out how you never went out anymore, and that you'd been practically living as a hermit

You tried to resist, your first instinct to decline and stick to your quiet night in, but Sumi;s persistence wore you down. She had a way of making even the simplest invitation sound like a grand adventure, and after a bit of internal back-and-forth, you finally relented.

After ending the call, you stood up, looking around your small apartment. It had been a while since you'd gone out, and a part of you felt nervous, but another part—one you hadn't acknowledged in some time—was starting to feel a flicker of anticipation.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to step outside your comfort zone for once.

The music was loud, vibrating through the floor and up into your bones as you sat squeezed into a booth, surrounded by people on all sides.

You hadn't expected the party to be this big—Sumi had said it would be a small celebration, but it turned out to be anything but. The entire club was packed, and the crowd seemed to pulse with energy, the lights flashing erratically in rhythm with the heavy bass.

It was... overwhelming, to say the least, and you'd already considered slipping out the back more than once.

But every time you thought about leaving, someone—whether it was Sumi or one of her classmates—would pull you back into the booth, keeping you tethered to the chaos.

After a while, you accepted your fate, sighing softly as you forced yourself to take a sip of the drink in your hand. The alcohol was meant to distract you, to keep your mind from spiraling into overstimulation.

The lights, the smells, the music, the press of bodies around you—it was all too much. But if you focused on the cool burn of the drink sliding down your throat, maybe you could hold yourself together a little longer.

A few drinks later, your muscles loosened, and the tightness in your chest began to melt away. The alcohol took the edge off, softening the sharpness of your senses, and you finally started to feel relaxed.

When Sumi eagerly dragged you onto the dance floor, you didn't resist, allowing yourself to get swept up in the moment.

The music pounded through the air, and soon you were caught in the rhythm. You let yourself get lost in it, swaying with the crowd, Sumi's infectious energy keeping you in the moment.

"You're finally having fun, aren't you?" Sumi laughed, spinning around you, her blonde hair whipping in the flashing lights.

You smiled faintly, your body relaxing into the music. "Yeah, it's... not so bad."

But as the alcohol worked through your system, the familiar buzz started beneath your skin. The sensations around you grew sharper—eagerness, excitement, arousal.

You could feel it all.

As you danced, it became harder to focus, every emotion from the people packed around you began to seep into your mind, their energy flooding your senses.

It was too much, and yet you couldn't seem to pull yourself out of it.

You wanted to scream, to escape, but the crowd held you tight, the sensations enveloping you like a suffocating blanket.

The music blurred with the flashes of emotion that weren't your own. It was like you were taking in everyone's feelings, all at once. A wave of drunken joy hit you, followed by a sharp stab of lust from a couple nearby.

And then, you felt two hands grip your waist from behind, steady and firm, tethering you to the moment.

A more coherent version of yourself might have jumped away from the unknown touch, startled by the sudden intrusion. But instead, you found yourself leaning into it, falling backward into whoever dared wrap you in their embrace.

The sensation of strong arms circling your waist held you in place, and the firmness of the chest against your back was like a solid wall anchoring you amidst the chaos.

You blinked slowly, your mind swimming as you squinted your eyes open. The faint tickle of soft hair brushed against your neck, and you could tell the person behind you was tall—taller than you by far. They had to slouch and bend over slightly to reach your ear.

It was only when you caught a glimpse of white, snowy hair out of the corner of your eye that you froze. A familiar shiver ran down your spine, and the sharp sensation of lust and arousal hit you like a wave, pouring off the figure behind you in an overwhelming rush.

It was intoxicating, and for the first time tonight, you felt your own emotions cut through the fog of everyone else's. Your heart raced, and the heat rising in your cheeks wasn't from the alcohol anymore.

You didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. But any doubt you had vanished when a smooth voice purred into your ear, "Hello, Sweets~"

The words sent a shiver through you, and before you could fully process the situation, you were whisked off the dance floor. One second you were drowning in the crowd, and the next, you were being led—no, practically carried—through the bustling club.

Satoru, with an ease that belied the chaos around him, guided you up the steps to the VIP section, his hand never leaving your waist.

In what felt like no time at all, you were settled in a more secluded booth at the top balcony, away from prying eyes. The noise of the club felt distant here, muted by the heavy drapes surrounding the area.

Satoru moved with purpose, easily sliding into the booth beside you, his presence commanding and all-encompassing.

You glanced at him, your breath catching in your throat as his bright blue eyes locked onto yours. There was a teasing glint in them as he took in your flushed face, a smirk curling at his lips.

Without warning, he cupped your cheek, his large hand warm against your skin, and pinched your face lightly.

"You're a lightweight, huh?" he teased, his tone light but dripping with amusement.

You swatted his hand away with a roll of your eyes, trying to steady yourself. "'m not drunk. 'm tipsy," you muttered, trying to maintain some semblance of control, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

Satoru chuckled, leaning in closer. His arm draped casually over the back of the booth, but the movement subtly caged you in, his broad back shielding you from view. He didn't seem concerned with the world beyond your little corner, his attention entirely on you.

"Tipsy, huh?" he drawled, his voice lowering as he leaned even closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You're definitely something."

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as his finger gently lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You're a pretty girl, you know that?" His words were soft but carried a weight that made your heart race.

Your mouth went dry as his finger trailed along the edge of your chin before brushing the underside of your lip. The touch was light, teasing, but it sent a jolt of electricity through you. His eyes darkened slightly, the pupils dilating as his gaze lingered on your lips, a light flush dusting his own cheeks.

"I could get used to this," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his thumb stroked your bottom lip. "The way you look at me... I wonder how much better it would feel to have you under me."

The suggestiveness of his words hit you like a punch, your entire body flushing with heat.

You could feel the intensity of his desire, the raw lust pouring off him in waves, and for once, you weren't overwhelmed by it. Instead, it mixed with your own growing attraction, the tension between you crackling like static in the air.

Your breath hitched, and though you were flustered, you couldn't deny the pull between you.

Every part of you screamed to push back, to regain control, but the way Satoru's fingers lingered on your skin, the way his eyes drank you in like you were the only person in the world, made it hard to focus on anything but him.

Your mouth moved before your brain could catch up. "I do too..." The words were barely a whisper, slipping out between the pounding of your heart and the electric charge that hummed between you.

That was all it took.

In an instant, Satoru closed the space between you, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that made your head spin. You could feel the desperation in the way he kissed you, his tongue sweeping into your mouth, exploring, tasting. He licked into you with fervor, groaning low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your chest.

It was as if he couldn't get enough, like he was drinking in every little sound you made, savoring it.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his hands were on you—gripping your waist, pulling you closer, and leaving no space between your bodies.

The plush cushions of the sofa gave way beneath you as you felt your back press into them, Satoru already pushing you down. His body hovered over yours, his weight pinning you in place as his hands roamed freely, one sliding up your side, fingers brushing your skin under your shirt.

Every touch sent sparks through your veins, and you couldn't help the soft gasp that escaped your lips when his palm finally slid under your skirt, pressing against the warmth of your skin.

His hand moved higher, fingers brushing over your upper thigh as his other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place beneath him. You squirmed under his touch, your body responding to every movement as if on instinct.

The sensation of his fingers ghosting over your skin was enough to drive you crazy, and you arched into his touch, your own hands finding purchase on his shoulders, gripping him tightly as if to anchor yourself to the moment.

Satoru groaned again, this time louder, the sound muffled by the kiss. His body pressed closer, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, the solid strength of his chest against yours.

It was dizzying—the way he seemed to consume you with every touch, every kiss, as if he was starved for you. His lips left yours for only a second, moving to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

"Satoru..." you breathed, barely able to think as his lips found yours again. His hand gripped your thigh, pulling you flush against him as he kissed you deeper, more possessively, like he never wanted to let you go.

Before you could catch your breath, Satoru moved again, flipping you both upright with ease. He pulled you on top of his lap, his hands gripping your waist firmly as he settled you onto him.

You both sat there, panting from the intensity of the makeout session, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you stared down at him.

His eyes were dark, hooded with desire, the usual playfulness in his expression replaced by something more intense. His face was flushed, and a light sheen of sweat dotted his forehead. His hands, strong and confident, kneaded your exposed thighs, your skirt having ridden up from all the movement.

The warmth of his touch against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t help but feel your mind race as you took in his features—the sharpness of his jaw, the way his pale lashes framed those piercing blue eyes, his lips swollen from kissing.

Satoru licked his lips slowly, and you could feel the heat between you grow as he scooted you even closer on his lap. A shiver ran through you when you felt him hard beneath you, the sensation making your body tingle. He tilted his head to the side, a cocky smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched you.

"Hey, Sweets," he purred, his voice low and teasing. "Wanna feel how bad I wanna fuck you?"

If you weren't already lost in the feeling of him against you, you might've recoiled in embarrassment at his bluntness. But instead, your body reacted instinctively, pressing down onto him, sending a jolt of electricity through both of you.

The low groan that escaped his lips, paired with the small jump of his hips in response, had your heart racing even faster.

It was your turn to lick your lips, and you noticed the way Satoru's eyes snapped down to watch, darkening even further as his gaze locked onto your mouth.

You leaned in slightly, your lips hovering near his ear as you whispered, "Only if I get to make you beg for it first."

Satoru's breath hitched, and his eyes flickered with surprise and excitement at your boldness. His grip on your thighs tightened, and his cocky smirk grew wider, clearly pleased with your response. "Oh, Sweets," he murmured, his voice dripping with playful challenge. "I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun tonight."

Satoru wasted no time, his hand sliding between your thighs with practiced ease, his eyes focused solely on your face.

ou could only bite your lip in response as he easily slipped his fingers beneath your underwear, his breath growing heavier with each passing second.

"Shit… you're soaked," he breathed out, voice rough with desire.

You can feel your cheeks burning in embarrassment, heat flooding your body as his touch sent sparks through you. It was almost too easy for him to slip a single finger inside you, sinking in to the knuckle with no resistance.

His thumb began working in small, slow circles, rubbing against your clit, and your hips twitch involuntarily in response. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel your body reacting without thought.

Your hips moved on their own, instinctively jutting forward in small circles, matching the rhythm of his fingers as he skillfully worked you over.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he added another finger, pressing deeper, massaging your walls with a deliberate, teasing pressure.

A sharp, breathy squeak left you when he found your G-spot. "There she goes…" he murmurs with a low moan, his own hips twitching slightly beneath you, as if the sight of your reaction was enough to affect him too.

Before you know it, the tension inside you snapped. You gasp, feeling yourself reach the peak as your body shudders and tightens around his fingers, your mind reeling from the pleasure coursing through you.

While you were still clenching and twitching from your release, Satoru didn't hesitate. He pulled your underwear to the side and swiftly guided you down onto him, bullying his dick into your small hole.

A low hiss escaped his lips, followed by a growl as his entire body tensed beneath you, almost as if he was in pain.

It felt like all the air had been knocked out of you when he bottomed out in one stroke, your hips pressed flush against his. The fullness in your lower stomach was overwhelming, your thighs burning as they settled around his waist.

Your body reacted instinctively, twitching and clenching down as another orgasm washed over you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Satoru groaned, his voice thick and slurred as he lifted you up and down slowly, your whole clenching tight like a vice.

A low moan escaped his lips as he stared up with dazed and half-lidded eyes, as if he were completely drunk off the feel of you. His hands gripped your waist tightly, his head lolling back against the cushion.

You could only cling helplessly to his broad shoulders, your body trembling like a ragdoll as his hips picked up speed, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room with each deep thrust.

You were lost in the feel of him, lost in the way his lust matched yours, the heat between you nearly unbearable.

Satoru's hand found its way to your neck, fingers wrapping around it like a collar as he tilted your head back, exposing the curve of your throat.

You could feel his breath, hot and ragged, as his other hand trailed up slowly, his thumb brushing against your lips before slipping into your mouth.

A moan escaped you, muffled around his digit, your thighs twitching in response to the growing pressure building deep inside you.

Satoru's hips snapped up harder as if he could feel how close you were. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, and just as you felt yourself about to tip over, his voice broke through the haze, panting and breathless in your ear.

"Y'know…" he rasped, punctuating each word with a rough thrust, "…I was sent here… to kill you…" His grip tightened on your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he groaned into your ear. "But how… can I get… rid of something… this… perfect?"

His voice was filthy, dripping with lust, and his words came out between gasping breaths. "My perfect… little cock-sleeve…" He smirked against your neck, his voice growing lower and more ragged with each thrust. "… And I'm never letting you go."

You couldn't stop the shudder that ran through you as his words sank in. Just as you tipped over the edge into one last, mind-numbing release, you couldn’t help but wonder what your future held next.

A/N: not me screeching into my pillows while editing like i didnt write this 😭😭

[saleintothe90s]

498. Flintstones 1994 Garbage (part 1)

(see also Dick Tracy Garbage, 1996 Olympics Garbage, Phantom Menace Garbage, Y2K Garbage)

Back in the day, thirty years ago, usually the movies that came out Memorial Day weekend were still relevant by the time 4th of July came along. I don't remember that happening with 1994's Flintstones. Here is the Box Office for 4th of July, 1994:

Simba driving that bus really took them out. Maybe its just my memories from when I was ten, but I remember the hype for Flintstones was the week the movie came out, and that was it. I stopped hearing that B-52's B.C. 52's song after about a week on the radio.

Ten year old me thought the song was cheesy, but 41 year old me doesn't mind it now. Halle Berry is having the time of her life in the video.

The merchandising for this movie was diligently curated. 'Pretty sure we've all seen that RocDonalds McRib commercial. RocDonalds was part of McDonald's first World wide marketing campaign.1

Australia got the $2 Bedrock Dinner Deal, while Canada had the Barney Rubble bacon double cheese meal. In Malaysia they had dinosaur nuggets!

I have to give it up to Rosie O'Donnell as Betty, that was the role she was born to play, baby.

She showed up for every single McDonalds commercial. Sometimes with an actress that they hired to look almost like Halle Berry's Sharon Stone character. They were getting that McDonalds $$bag$$. Sometimes the same line had to be filmed twice because in Canada, they had plastic movie cups and the in the States we just had paper ones. She was the star of the glasses commercial.

You know what Australia McDonalds had that we didn't? A Barney Rubble pencil sharpener!

We had those clunky cars that went into buildings?

I almost forgot about the t-shirt you could buy at McDonalds!

McDonalds did all this work, spent all this money, did all these promos, and it wasn't enough. Kids weren't impressed. 1 Burger King had a huge Lion King production that won over kids, with some locations reporting that they were selling 220-300 kids meals a day. 2

(part 2)

[cambria-writes]

it certainly is december 24th! sorry for taking so long to update; i’ve been in a writing slump for a few weeks, and though the next few chapters of honey are already written, i just. completely forgot about them?

anyways i’ll be posting a nice lil winter/holiday special later today or tomorrow, depending on how i feel. for now at least you have the next chapter!

pairing: patrick jane x reader word count: 2,852 rating: T, each chapter rated individually warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, reader goes a bit heavy on the wine lmao, implied homophobia

PreviousNext

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓: 𝔐𝔦𝔵𝔢𝔯

It’s simple enough: have a nice dinner, get drunk (or, at least, look very drunk), approach the broody paranoid-looking rich boy, get him to follow you...

And then it gets a little vague.

“You’re still worrying about it,” Jane comments, sipping at the same glass of wine he had twenty minutes ago.

“Whatever gave it away, darling?” The smile almost hurts your face. It’s a struggle to keep your voice just this side of sickly-sweet. Jane gives you a toothy grin that nearly makes you shiver. The resemblance to a starving fox isn’t lost on you.

“Just use your womanly wiles. You’ll be fine, you’re not at all hard on the eyes.”

He takes a careful sip of his wine while you nearly spit out the mouthful of salad you’re trying to choke down. You can feel the burn spread from your face to your chest. You hate it.

“Don’t do that,” you mutter, washing everything down by finishing whatever wine was left. You wave down your waiter; you’re far too sober for any of this. You ask for a cocktail; you don’t care what it is as long as it’s sweet and strong. The waiter gives you a look but walks off to a small bar somewhere off to your left.

“Do what?,” Jane asks, and you hate the innocence in his tone. Everything about you says what.

“Fli-flirt with me,” you whisper, stabbing the remains of your salad with more vigor than necessary. You keep your eyes down. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Ah, but you don’t dislike it.” The victory is his voice makes you want to scream. You look up at him incredulously. There’s a retort, but it dies on your tongue when the waiter drops a crystal blue highball glass in front of you.

He rattles off its name and contents but you don’t care. Chug half of it in one go and finish your salad. You can feel the alcohol singing in your veins like fire. You raise your hand to down the rest of it, but... stop.

Sharpen your fear into a knife. That means you need fear to sharpen. Though arguably you are slightly inebriated, you are still a good, healthy measure of terrified. You’re in a restaurant too nice for your bank account. You’re sitting with a man you hardly know pretending to be his newly wed wife despite the fact that his actual wife is Very Dead. You’re expected to approach the handsome and paranoid son of a Russian mob boss like you have no idea who he is.

And you got shot at for knowing a dog a few days ago. Terrified probably doesn’t actually cut it.

The more you think about it, the more paralyzed you feel yourself become. Jane places a hand over your glass and forces you to lower your arm. The look he gives you is confusing.

“All you need to do,” Jane begins quietly. He never breaks eye contact. Somehow that unnerves and challenges you to do the same. “Is bring him to an empty table and talk to him. See the most you can in him.”

You notice that he noticeably doesn’t remove him hand from yours in a noticeable way. You start to think maybe you drank too fast.

“...I can do that,” you say slowly, losing track of the words as they exit your mouth. Your resolve doesn’t solidify so much as it coagulates. You look back to the paranoid brooding man by the window. Look back to Jane.

This’ll be fine. You’re technically single. You’re playing house with a handsome not-detective. And you’re closer to drunk than you’ve been in a while.

It’s fine.

There’s an extra sway to your hips as you make your way to the Window Man. His family eyes you cautiously but otherwise say or do nothing. You’d sigh if you had the presence of mind to. As it is, you feel nervous and flushed and a little bit breathless. You look over your shoulder to Jane, whose face displays everything from “look at my beautiful wife” to “look at all these sheep thinking there isn’t a wolf in their midst”. You swallow the bubbling giggles rising in your throat.

You stop a few feet away from Mr Brooding and lean forward to the side a little. Thank your stars you chose to wear the dress that shows at least a little cleavage. You don't touch him, and firmly hold your hands behind your back.

"Excuse me..?," you ask tentatively, and almost jump out of your skin when your target does. He whips around to glare daggers at you. Until he isn't, and his eyes follow your dress' straps down your neckline. Could use more class, but it's all whatever at this point.

"Wha—,” The man starts, but his voice sounds choked. Clears his throat and starts again. “What do you want?”

Can’t help but notice that most of the tension has left his shoulders. Was it really as easy as playing the part of the drunk bimbo?

“Sorry, gosh, I didn’t mean to scare you!” Place a hand low on your chest for emphasis and lean back on your heels. Ignore the slowly growing soreness in your feet. “My name’s Magda Wi—ah, Stephens!” Pretend to forget that your maiden name is gone. Seems to work; Brooding Man doesn’t seem to catch it.

The fake names roll off your tongue better with the alcohol. At least you hope; sounding believable while drunk is hard. How were you expected to ace this, again?

Brooding Man still eyes you suspiciously. You look over your shoulder and wiggle your fingers at Jane. He wiggles his fingers back at you. He makes a good show of looking far more inebriated than you know he is.

Turn back to the man in front of you with a dumb, apologetic grin on your face.

“Truth is, we just got married right? But I’ve always been kind of wild, you know, and he lets me get really crazy, bless than idiot, but—I’m sorry, geez, I’m rambling. Do you mind if we sit down? The wine’s getting to my head a bit but I really hope you can hear me out. Please?”

Clasping your hands right under your chest seems to work a charm; Brooding Man can’t help but look back down before looking back up at your face. Your very flushed face. It’s a miracle the people of Singapore can’t hear how hard your heart is beating.

“Sure,” Brooding Man answer’s smoothly. His entire demeanor changes. He offers you his arm to guide you to one of the few empty tables. The wait staff give you a look. The Family give you a look. Jane looks on wordlessly but with the starved attention of a predator.

“My name’s James Madore.”

James—Jim, Jimmy, Jamie—takes to you like a fly to honey. He hangs after your every word like they’re gold as soon as you mention you and your “husband” are looking for a +1 to your first honeymoon night. You rattle off the name of a hotel Jane had given you, and James seems pleasantly satisfied. Must be high-end, then. Not like you’d know.

You talk about yourself like the most self-absorbed, vapid girl on the planet. Your work in PR, you’re, like, so good with social media. You’ve worked with the Kardashians and Kanye and even Madonna for a little bit. You like the modest ring your husband have you because the chunky garbage is so overrated. You like indie music like it’s your lifeblood.

You make yourself sound like the worst hipster you’ve ever heard. And for whatever reason, it’s actually working. James is absolutely enthralled—both by whatever incoherent mess falls out of your mouth and by your cleavage.

You place a chilled hand over his on the table. He doesn’t flinch or pull away. He leans in closer. You’d almost be attracted to him if he wasn’t so, just. So arrogant.

“But geez, Jamie! You’re letting me do all the talking here!” Laugh like you’re pretending to be self conscious. You’re still not sober enough to know if you’re doing a good job of it. “What about you! What do you do? Is that your family over there? They look nice!”

They don’t look nice. When you wave at them, the older woman—presumably James’ mother—looks three seconds away from murdering you just for thinking about touching her son. Tough.

James tenses. Oh, that’s new.

Tilt your head to the side to feign ignorance rather than sudden intrigue.

“They’re alright,” James starts slowly, looking quickly over his shoulder before turning back to you. “Family business is rough though. My dad’s been trying to groom me to take over for years and my mom’s already decided who I’m supposed to marry. Can you believe that shit?”

A gasp. “Oh no! You’re kidding me! Seriously? Arranged marriages in this day and age?”

“Christ, right? It’s like they live in the 1700s!” James throws his head back in what looks like pure, unadulterated relief. You almost wish you could say you understand. When he bring his head back down, he looks... dismayed. You’d even say hopeless.

“Oh no,” you start, look around and lean in. Lower your voice. “You got your eyes on another girl?”

James looks stunned for a second, and then slowly shakes his head. You’re about to ask what, then, when it clicks.

Oh. Oh no. There’s a clear picture forming in your foggy mind and you’re not sure you like it. Force yourself you grin like a Cheshire Cat through your empathy and lean back in your chair.

“Well, if you don’t mind it, I’m sure you and my husband would get along just fine.”

James actually looks like he’s considering it for a minute. Looks back at his family—barely a fraction of a second—and then snatches his hand away from yours like it’s made of burning embers. Hide the confusion under a layer of what you hope is carefully crafted concern. You open your mouth to ask what’s wrong, or offer reassurances, but silence yourself when you see James’ hands. His fingers are nearly white from how hard he’s gripping he table.

“Look, no offence, I’m sure you’re some decent folk, but I’m not interested,” he says sharply. You can’t help yourself from grabbing at his sleeve as he gets up. Do your best to shake the wine from your head long enough to think before you speak.

“Please. I honestly started out just wanting to pick you up for a threesome—“ James’ face turns about five shades of crimson. “—but you seem like a good kid. I just—I want to help you. Even if it's just giving you a night to relax, no strings attached. Just one night of fun where you can forget who you are.”

James' face is impassive for a little bit, but you think you can see him considering the offer. Considering you, at the very least; his eyes are fixed on your face. It's a little unnerving, honestly. The more you watch him, though, the more he seems like he's faltering. And somehow, though your mission wasn't really to woo him or even reel him in, you find yourself determined to do something.

You catch yourself fidgeting with the pendant around your neck when the young man's eyes drift down to it. He has the decency to snap his gaze right back up to your face. Your hand wraps around the teardrop pendant—clear and blue—and move to take it off.

"How about this," you start carefully. "I'm kind of a fortune teller on the side sometimes. How about you ask some questions and I try and get some answers for you?"

Jane's grip on your hand is almost bruising as he pulls you along behind him. You don't really have the time to say anything. You don't really breathe, either. Your hand comes up to your bare neck. You kind of wish you hadn't dropped your pendant in Jane's haste to get you out. You kind of liked it.

"Quick, come on, get in," Jane orders calmly, but his tone betrays the set of his eyes. You swallow thickly. You don't even have time to buckle up before Jane tears out of the parking lot. Confusion, mild panic and inebriation make it impossible to actually tell and remember which direction he's heading towards.

"Okay," you breathe, finally snapping your seat belt in place. You let your head fall back and stare blankly at the car's roof. "Can you tell me exactly what just happened? Because I think I'm still too drunk to actually process."

Jane makes an ugly sound that's probably somewhere between choking and laughing. Great. Fantastic. This is absolutely not how you'd planned your evening and night to go.

"The Madore family's been linked to some pretty shady stuff for the past few years," he starts explaining. You vaguely notice that this is the first time he refuses to tear his eyes off the road while driving. You don't comment on it.

"James isn't so keen on following in his brothers' and father's footsteps. He's been trying to distance himself from the family business for a while now."

"Yeah, okay, makes sense that his family would seem like god damn flies in a soup then." Jane chuckles and continues.

"Exactly. They're trying everything to make sure James keeps the family business going, but he keeps sneaking right past them every other time. Like when he was spotted with a 'guy friend' at a bar last week."

You snort. "It's a dude in his twenties going to a bar with a friend, wha—," I cut myself off when I turn to look at Jane. While he's got half of a smirk plastered on his face, he looks... almost sad? Apologetic? "Oh.That kind of guy friend. The kind of guy friend who makes a man turn down a drunk girl propositioning him."

Jane laughs out loud and throws his head back. Your mind goes blank for a second; the column of his neck when he laughs is... You shake your head and shudder. Not entirely sure you like where you mind is wandering right now.

"Right, exactly. James hasn't been able to get a single minute to himself since that photographer caught them. Those pictures haven't been made public either, so you can guess what happened to the one who saw them." You make a face; yes, you can guess, and you would much rather not. "It's James' boyfriend who send me an email a few days ago to try and find out why he hasn't heard from James since their last date."

You make a sour face. The boyfriend has no idea, then? Who James Madore is? Did James lie about who he is? Or did it just never come up in conversation?

"Wait." You grab Jane's right arm in sudden realization. You don't mean to stun him the way you do but the way it makes him look at you makes your mouth go dry. The words get stuck in your throat. He's quick to look back at the road ahead.

"Yes?"

"I—you had asked me to—I never got him? To come back with us?" You're starting to think that maybe you aren't as drunk as you think and maybe there's something else entirely wrong with you. Your hand is still wrapped around Jane's elbow. You try desperately not to notice how his arm feels deceptively muscular.

"I didn’t, actually," he replies with a smirk. It almost makes you want to scream. “But don’t worry about it. I got what I needed from watching you.”

Oh come on, there has to have been a better way to word that. You can feel heat scorching your cheeks and neck. That's just not fair. You take your hand back like the contact with him burned you.

It probably did.

"Okay, so, what now then?" There has to be something else to be done after this, right? It can't just end with a single night of pseudo-investigation and being chased out by an angry mob family because you tried to touch their son's face after having answering a particularly sensitive question, right?

Jane shrugs like doesn't care. "I have some ideas, but it's not something you need to bother yourself with."

You let out an indignant scoff; all of this so you don't need to bother yourself with the end result?

"Beg your pardon, but what the fuck?"

"Language," Jane gasps, putting a hand to his chest in mock offence. When he turns to look at you and notices that your face still clearly displays shock and anger, he makes quick work of backtracking.

"I'm sorry, what I meant to say is that I have a backdoor for James if he wants one. There's just a lot of questionable paperwork and people involved, so..."

"Plausible deniability, huh? How kind of you," you mutter, shifting in your seat to rest your head against the window and watch the road go by.

The rest of the drive goes by in silence.

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

please comment to let me know if you’d like to be added!

@fucklife-or-me @yearningforsappho @mamacakeishereforfun @newavenger

[rainyearning]

joaquim had slunk out of bed (hesitantly and not without some ounce of regret) from beside his arvin to go diving. he had left a note. told her not to worry. it would be back by afternoon.

afternoon comes, and joaquim's hair is still damp when he ducks through the door of his and arvin's current place. "lunch," he pronounces in place of a greeting and nods towards the thundershark that has been hung up near their porch. he'll have to gut it, but he has something to do first.

"i can roast it if you don't want it raw this time." a sharp toothed smile follows, never one to waste an opportunity to make a horny joke. "but i know how much you like it raw." okay, now time for the real reason he went diving.

joaquim takes out a necklace of no less than 50 black pearls. obtained from a kraken that had taken down a pirate ship right off the coast. he had heard whispers from the pub that the beast had a string of black pearls in its beak. they were right. and joaquim knew arvin would look beautiful in pearls.

"look at that, huh?" it holds the necklace up to arvin. "makes you even prettier. didn't know that was possible."

When Joaquim left to go diving, Arvin would turn around in their bed, sheets around her naked body. He would comment Joaquims departure with a grunt, an annoyed hum because he would have preferred for the other to just stay by his side. Arvin preferred waking up with his creature in his arms, or pressed to her back. But she would have to miss out on that part and it had her annoyed, even before waking up. So he did wake up all alone, spending the morning alone. He would take care of their weapons, sharpening blades, fixing arrows. She would take care of their leathery armor, wiping it down with some fat just so it would be all pretty and shiny. It needed some care every once in a while. She was lifting her gaze slowly from the leather when Joaquim was back, humming, just shortly, just to give him at least a hint of her passive aggressive feelings. She would have preferred to spend the morning together, her creature had other plans. His horny jokes were commented with a little look, a glare almost because she wasn't in the mood for it. This was a special day. And she had started it alone. "You know what today is, right? You know what kind of day we have today." Maybe he forgot and maybe this was why he stood there, all sharp teeth and smiles. Her head sank to the side, eyes focusing on the pearls. "You left for the pearls?" Arvin put down the leather before he moved over to the other, slowly, reaching out to touch them. "Could almost make up for spending half the day alone." And a while ago, when they first met, Joaquim had saved him, a year ago from that day. "But you also took half the day before finding and saving me, so, might be fitting for a day like this." She turned around slowly, just so Joaquim could put the necklace around his neck. The pearls were indeed pretty, she had to give him that.

[reticent-writer]

Hi I can say I liked the Reader's Request to Be Like a Father to the Hashiras. So I Can Ask For Them To Be Comforted And Hugged By Their Father After A Hard Time

◡̈⋆ʜᴇʟʟᴏ(●’◡’●)ﾉ your wish is my command.

Shinobu

One of Shinobu's patients just died and after reviewing the body she realized they could've been saved with a simple antibiotic.

You were sitting outside watching the girls do the laundry when she told you what happened. You immediately pulled her into a hug telling her it wasn't her fault.

"Kocho, this unfortunately happens. It happened to me once and every since then I've been very carefully with my work. Don't let it you down or else more people could die. It's sad but if you focus on it it'll once get worse." You said in a deadly calm voice.

She sucked in a harsh breath and pulled you to the floor. When Kiyo, Sumi and Nayo saw this they went to see what was wrong.

Shinobu replies with her usual smile. "Everything is fine."

Rengoku

Rengoku came to you when shenjuro was being less than pleasant.

"Do you think I'm a failure of a son." He looked deep in your eyes and you looked back. You were about to say something when he hugged you.

"Of course I don't. Your amazing, your father is just scared you'll die on a mission after your mothers death." You basically whispered as you messaged his head.

You didn't realize he had fallen asleep on your shoulder.

Muichirou

He wanted to remember. He tried to remember.

He was walking around with no place in particular to go when he was you. He ran to you and nearly tackled you into a hug.

It was so out of character, you nearly forgot he was only 14. Placing a hand on his head as he spoke.

"Do you remember what my family was like." He looked up at you with a dead face.

"I'm sorry I don't, I only know that you had a twin."

He hummed putting his head in your chest.

Sanemi

Genya came to you in near tears saying sanemi was hearling insults at him again.

You went to scold him until you saw his face. He looked like he hit his all time low, without missing a beat you pulled him into a hug.

"I just don't want him to be like me."

"Why, who wouldn't want to be like the amazing wind hashira who puts fear into even the toughest demon." You ruffled his hair and he scoffed pushing you away.

You laughed as he speed walked away from you.

Tengen

Tengen had a habit of saying thing out loud when he didn't mean to. Most times about his siblings or him going to hell.

Like today you both were sitting on their engawa. You were sharpening his swords while he was deep in thought when he said.

"It's funny, my siblings probably made it to heaven while will go no where near... Oops."

He looked over to you as he watched you scoot closer to him. You pulled his head into your shoulder. He didn't fight against you instead he just moved into a more comfortable position against you.

"Your joking right, who wouldn't let my son, the most flashy man I know into heaven. They would be a fool."

He laughed.

Mitsuri

You were preparing mitsuri some snack for her next mission. When you finished you went to look for her.

He you found her she was looked sad as she was getting ready.

"What the matter kanjiro."

She whirled around to face you with tears in her eyes.

"The mission is in my home town. I don't want them to see me."

'Ah the assholes.' You thought as you opened your arm towards her. She ran into you in a bone crushing hug literally.

She doesn't know her own strength.

"I could go with you if you wanted." You weezed out.

"NO! I don't want you getting hurt." You thought hugs couldn't get any tighter but you didn't have the heart to pull away.

Once she realized you were suffocating she let you go.

Obanai

You were walking around obanai's estate when you say him looking into a mirror with his bandages off. Your eyes caught in the reflection.

"Is it bad." He asked keeping eye contact.

"No I don't think so. Its a battle scar, think of it as how you got out of a bad situation." You up behind him and placed a arm on his shoulder.

Surprisingly he turned around and hugged you. Obanai isn't really an affectionate person so when he hugs you, you of course hug back.

"Thank you... For everything."

Giyuu

Even though he was usually so nonchalant you could tell when he was feeling down.

Today for instance, it was the day after he met tanjiro. He wished he arrived sooner than he did.

"Hey tanjiro and his sister lived, right."

He nodded looking down until you put your hands on his shoulder.

"Don't let it get you down. Unfortunately you can't save everyone. If you want to do something about it, keep an eye on the kid, watch him grow." You pulled him into a hug, it took him awile to hug back.

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine being a fae and falling for Maedhros

(I was going to make another request and totally forgot this one. I am sorry, but it is here now. Hope you enjoy)

Requested by anonymous

Warnings: Magic, threats of killing, growing friendship, magic, mentions of a disability, tricky fairies, romance. 

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-You have lived in the grove as long as you remember, surrounded by its magical trees and other fairies, as your duty was to protect it with your only kin. 

-You have done this for many years, and nothing surprises you anymore. Orcs, lost travelers, and other things appear in the grove occasionally, and your duty has remained the same. Keep them out. 

-You hoped for something new to happen, but it was rather hopeless as your sibling loved to kill, and you couldn't exactly leave the grove to have a social life. Your home needed both of its guardians, and your other fairy kind weren’t powerful enough to fend for themselves. 

-Most elves stayed away from your home out of respect and an ancient deal, so you don’t see them often. Humans love getting lost and use violence upon the first strange thing they see. And the dwarves, well, you have heard of them, but apparently, they don’t like to travel much, so you have never seen one. 

-You could only dramatically cry at your pitying situation. You didn’t have a lot of options, so all you could do was wait and hope for the best. 

-One day, something did happen. 

-It was a bright summer day in the grove, and many were preparing for a feast in honor of the earth queen, Yavanna Kementari. 

-You were walking with your sibling, picking berries and fruits while listening to the joyful singing of the flying fairies. 

-On that day, Maedhros, the son of Feanor, and his brothers were on a hunt. 

-He followed his brothers from behind as they chased after a herd of deers. They all soon lost their way after they entered a mysterious forest where power seemed to test their mind. 

-Maedhros was unnerved by the presence the forest held over him. He kept hearing whispers behind his ears, and it was like the air had become heavy to breathe. 

-It didn’t help when he lost sight of his brothers and wandered through the forest without a clear way in his mind. 

-It was then he heard singing, beautiful and melodic singing. He was hypnotized and therefore followed the voice into the grove. 

-His mind became clear when he entered the colorful forest, and the air tasted sweet on his lips. However, he was unnerved by the number of animal bones he came across. 

-They were on the ground, hidden among the leaves and strapped upon the trees. Edges sharpened like blades. 

-He was confused until he heard the sound of your voice. 

-There you were at the side of a lake, softly singing with flying fairies as you picked berries into your basket with another. 

-Beautiful was the word Maedhros could think of as he couldn't help but stare at the sight before him. 

-Your voice was lovely, like the voice of the nightingales. You were dressed similarly to the other, so you were most likely close kin and yet different as you looked more serene and happy. Strange yet beautiful markings decorated your skin, and the fairies decorated your hair with flowers as you laughed with glee. 

-Maedhros almost wanted to say something, but he hesitated as he didn’t dare to disturb. He was an uninvited intruder. 

-It was until a twig snapped and his brothers called out to him, entering the grove. 

-The fairies screeched and scattered around, alerting you and your sibling of the intruders. 

-You two stood there and watched wearily. You were captivated by the tall red-haired Eldar, but the color of his soul unnerved you. It was bright yet stained with red, which only meant he had spilled innocent blood. They all have. 

-Elves do kill, but they always have a good reason. These elves have killed several innocent people, so their fea had been stained red with blood. They also bore a powerful sense of a curse or a doom, which you would only recognize from lord Namo. 

-Your sibling laughed as they asked what these elves did to stain their fea with innocent blood. Only cold-blooded murderers could do such a thing. 

-The dark and blond elves of the group were not happy with your sibling’s remark and showed signs of aggression. It was your duty to deal with hostile invaders, so you and your sibling called upon your powers. 

-The bones scattered among the ground and trees came to life and trapped the elves in a predicament where they couldn't escape or fight their way through. 

-Undead animals surrounded them, growling and howling with windless screams. Sharpened bones were wrapped around their bodies and neck, restraining them from moving against the sharpened edges. One wrong move and it would be the end of them. 

-You and your siblings watched them while controlling the bones. You didn’t want to resolve things with violence. You liked talking things through before doing anything hasty. 

-Luckily, you didn’t need to kill this time as it was the summer feast of Yavanna. Therefore you and your sibling allowed them to live another day and leave the grove with a strict warning never to return. 

-The red-haired one was grateful and thanked while apologizing for the intrusion and the violent act of his brothers. He will make sure they will not bother you in the future. 

-You watched as he left and couldn't help but be curious about him. 

-How could someone seemingly noble, polite, and friendly be a murderer of innocents? 

-You tried not to think about him much after he left the grove. It looked like he kept his promise and didn’t show up or any of his brothers. You couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. You don't know why but maybe you wished to see him again and talk a little. 

-Maedhros faced the same predicament as he couldn't stop thinking about you. Whenever he tries to do something else, his mind wanders back to you. 

-He did some research about the grove and its inhabitants. All kinds of fairies and animals lived there, and its guardians, the faes of the bone. 

-The name was odd, but it was your title as the guardian of the grove.  

-Your powers were closely associated with dead and spirits, so he figured you could see one’s soul and fea. That's how you and your sibling managed to know the sinful past of his family. 

-Maedhros felt conflicted with his growing desire to see you and keeping his promise to never show his face again in your home. 

-In the end, he decided to take the risk and visit the forest. 

-The faes, very little was known about them, except they could be cruel and vicious tricksters. 

-It was tricky to be there again. The air felt heavy against the Eldar's lungs, and the voices whispered to his ears. Horrible things and some of them sounded like screams. He was almost lost and snatched by other faes until you came to his rescue and repelled the enchantment of the forest. 

-You weren’t sure what to feel, anger for breaking the promise, or excitement to see him again. 

-You demanded an explanation why he returned and slightly scolded him for risking his life for coming back. You might be benevolent toward strangers, but other faes, not so much. They would take any chance to get their hands upon one of the Eldar. 

-Maedhros thanked you for the rescue and explained his reason. He also gave away an offering as he had read up on the books with Fae tradition. 

-You accepted the offering as it was seen as rude to refuse. You felt excited because not many would return and want to socialize with you, so you were more than happy to give away your presence and time for the gift. 

-You guided him away from the dangerous parts of the forest, so the other faes and fairies wouldn't try their luck again. Not with you around, though. 

-You and the elven prince talked, and he turned out to be pleasant company. You learned a lot about the outside world from him. 

-You found the whole silmaril thing odd and questioned if it was necessary to go to such terrible lengths for a couple of jewelry. Sure, they had the lights of the two trees, but killing innocent kin like Morgoth when he killed their grandfather might have gone overboard. 

-Maedhros tried to answer the questions, but you restrained when you sensed you might have overwhelmed him with your straightforward questioning. 

-You managed to come up with a bigger picture, and he seemed to work hard to compensate for his crimes, so you deemed him worthy of forgiveness. 

-In return, you taught him some things about the grove and its fairies. 

-He was a good listener and seemed fascinated, so you were happy to talk about your home. 

-You even fulfilled his questions about all the bones scattered around the grove. He guessed they were used as weapons, and he wasn't wrong. 

-The bones in the trees were sharpened and prepared for action. 

-Bones on the ground used to be animals who willingly gifted their skeletons to protect the grove as they passed away. When you or your sibling call upon them, they will awaken as undead. 

-Powerful creatures since you can’t kill a mass of bones. 

-Maedhros was even more fascinated and glad you and your sibling allowed them to live that day. He didn’t want to imagine what it would be like to be eaten by a skeleton deer. 

-The fairies were not glad to see him at first but slowly warmed up to him after he proved to be no harm. 

-Your sibling asked if they could eat them or do some violent things, so Maedhros be scared of them. 

-You only laugh. Your sibling has always been the most violent of the two, but they will not try anything as long as you have something to say about it. 

-The day went quicker than expected. You felt disappointed to see him leave but got excited when he asked if it was okay for him to visit again. 

-It took all your strength not to ask if he would like to stay forever. 

-You couldn't stop thinking about him. You finally have social interaction with someone outside and an interesting person like him. The thought almost made you giggle like a newborn fairy. 

-You patiently waited for him to visit again. The fairies were curious while your sibling teased you for having a minor crush on an outsider. 

-When Maedhros finally came to visit again, he apologized for being late as his duties often keep him busy. He even brought an offering again to honor the fae tradition. 

-You did not mind and welcomed him again to the grove. 

-This continued for a long time. Maedhros would come to visit and bring gifts. You taught him how to navigate to the grove, so you didn’t need to come to his rescue every time some faes decided to be mischievous. 

-You loved the sound of his voice, and it was interesting to listen to the latest news about the outside world. 

-Your sibling and the fairies of the grove became used to him and sometimes even came to interact, sitting and flying around his shoulders and decorating his beautiful red hair with flowers. 

-He let them because they reminded him of children. 

-Over time, you might have grown feelings for the elf as he visited the grove to see you and talk about the trivial of the world. 

-You’re not sure how or why, but being in his presence feels warm. 

-He once asked about your wings. He had seen your sibling and others with wings, but he had never seen yours. 

-You told him you lost your wings during a hardcore battle against the creatures of darkness, who sought to destroy the grove and kill the fairies. 

-You were physically disabled from your wings, so you have never been able to fly ever since. 

-You missed the sensation of wind, but you managed to become used to living on foot. 

-Maedhros was sweet about it and praised how powerful enough you were to restrain a great elven family in mere seconds, so you were a powerful fae even without your wings. 

-One day, he asked you to court him. 

-He had grown these feelings ever since he first his eyes upon you, and you make him feel free and whole from the outside world. 

-You accepted with excitement. Even though: a relationship between an elf and a fae was unheard of and most likely blasphemous. You did not care and embraced the red-haired beauty with a tender kiss. 

-It was magical, and the fairies sang happily for you that night.

[namjoonchronicles]

impression | yg

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship

↳ words 5.5k

↳ summary many forgot that when you marry someone, you marry their family too, at least that’s how Asian family is like

↳ warning that side of adulthood, lockdown because of pandemic, self-worth, over-sensitivity, pisces dude, married life conflicts

↳ song ariana grande ‘pov’ 

Just this morning you woke him up with ‘Daechwita’ blasting on his ear drums, dancing and prancing around the home gym in your spandex bra and sweatpants, rapping to every word he wrote, with more swag than ten Yoongis combined. Forehead glistened with sweat, rosy cheeks and more life in you than he ever had. He leaned by the door sill just watching in utter disbelief and renewed admiration to just how much you loved his music. It never gets old. But how the tables have turned, two minutes before midnight.

You’ve locked yourself in the bathroom, him leaning his back on the wall, speaking through the closed door, calling out for you.

“Talk to me. Please… Say something. Anything,” he puts his lips inches away from the door, covering his hand over his mouth to direct the sound towards you, hoping it would get through. Fat chance, but at least he tried.

Must be something in his drink last night for him to hear his own song even when he is sleeping, Yoongi thought. But he didn't drink last night? Yoongi pulled the duvet down his head, contorting his entire face and the blaring boom bass music, rippling through the miniature figure standees of famous baseball players he had lined up on the TV cabinet. The music was so loud, the pictures hung on the walls began rattling at each beat drop. Where is this music coming from??

Two seconds in, and the empty spot next to him spoke volumes. All answers were as clear as day.

Yoongi sat up on the bed, duvets pooled around his waist as he yawns loudly and his bed hair flopping on either side leans towards, some baby strands standing in all directions. He scratches his arms, neck and belly as he comes awake. Face puffy, eyes barely open, and cheeks as circle as they could be. He gathered the duvet to the side and pushed himself off to the edge of the bed while shoving his feet into his indoor slippers. He tried to fetch his phone from the bedside table and saw it vibrating on its own from the loud music.

"Better stop her before the neighbours come complaining…"

He waddles about the room lazily, dragging his feet, his arm reaching for the switch panel before he even arrives to have the curtain open and let the sun in. The automated curtain aligned and folded creases perfectly as it gathered itself to each designated side. The bed, the bed will be made up later after he advises his wife not to deafen the whole neighborhood with his albums and he could finally think.

The teal-colored walls that extended along the hallway of the house, decorated with wedding pictures, family pictures, his signed baseball jerseys, picture of his basketball days (the one he jumps for a slam dunk and especially proud of, you know the one), your graduation picture (with him professionally photoshopped in) and some lovely polaroids of your first unofficial date that he insists was official. More on that later. Yoongi walks pass this memory lane with a stern face, shooting glares ahead, marching in the direction of the music, which seems to be coming from the gym. What he saw was a petite figure, all hyped up, sweaty, holding up a water bottle to your lips like a microphone, mouthing his rap like it was your own. You saw him in the mirror reflection but instead of coiling away, shy, you spat his rap to his face with flaming confidence. Yoongi looks down with a shy smile, eyes turning small and polite, skin blushing pink with second hand embarrassment. His face is hot and your sweaty skin, hair plastered to your neck and forehead, in revealing spandex was not helping. Neither is your swag. He clamped his lips with his teeth while you pulled his arm so he would join you. He protested lazily but didn't resist as hard. He throws his head back, whining dejections but you couldn't care less.

"Are you making your own concert here? Plagiarising my songs?"

You heard him and grinned widely at the mirror. He folded his arms and watched you dance seductively and just as the rap got to the 'my tongue sends boys and girls to China' part, the music stops and he is no longer next to you but by the stereo and turning it off.

"Yoongi! I was working out!" "People are gonna come and complain…" "They know who you are…" "They know my name from you…"

Screaming underneath him, that's what he meant. You rolled your eyes at him. He passed you a face towel with a sheepish smile. Wiping your face with it, you watched Yoongi unplug your phone from the sockets. It reveals several missed calls from your mother in law, Yoongi's mom.

"Mom called…" "Really?"

You moved closer to him to see. Yoongi reads the message she sent you outloud and the colors drained down your face.

"What do I cook? What do I do? What does she usually have for lunch? OMG, I don’t know. Do we even have kimchis left? I hadn't restocked…" "She likes fried dumplings and soy garlic chicken stew… it'll be okay. She said she is coming around noon. It's just a little over 8 am… Go take a shower."

You scurried to the bathroom and did as told. Yoongi made the bed while he waited. He turns the cordless vacuum cleaner on but it beeped soullessly because it wasn't charged. He sighed. You always forget to charge them after using them. He opted for a broom and dustpan instead. Yoongi disappears into his home studio, to take the shampoo he had been using and after-shower lotion for you to use. He twisted the knob, knowing you wouldn't lock them when you shower. Knock on the glass door of the shower and told you to use them. You nodded, passing him a look over your shoulder but he was out as quickly as he entered. That cold, cold steely husband.

You stepped out of the shower wrapped in towels with your hair dripping wet, hurrying to the hairdryer to dry your hair. Yoongi walks in with nothing but a towel around his waist. He passes you a chaste kiss on the shoulder first, then your cheeks before he continues to unravel his briefs and showered as well. The water trickles down his face, neck and shoulders, cascading down his speckless back, over the bum of his ass and wetting his happy trails at the same time. He aggressively rubs water over his face, the tips of his hair appear darker as it gets wet. You dressed up in your oversized hoodie, a pair of jeans and red converse, hair tied up in a bun, grabbing your purse for a quick run to the store. If your mother in law is coming, the least you could do is cook an all korean cuisine, prep nicely on the table so she knows that her son was taken care of nicely. Giving her a lasting good impression was your core priority as of now. And Yoongi would have been more than happy to do the grocery for you but this time, just this once, you want to show him that you are dependable too.

If there is anything you learned from korean cuisine is that food is prepared meticulously like you would, a form of art. Everything is placed neatly on a plate, and wrapped tightly. Taste and looks must be perfect. Everything had a sequence. Tradition and culture shapes the good people of Korea to what it is today. And for Daegu native, Yoongi's deep accent and habits become one of the most significant traits that flags a Daegu representative. You are obsessed with getting it right. Although you mostly don't understand the heavy accents he tends to let slip out once in a while, you were expecting to guess the words as it comes. His accents are one of the things that you loved about him. Daegu dialects are strong, and oozing masculinity. They are often direct and unapologetic so it might be heard as harsh. You couldn't tell apart if he is cursing or if he is just plainly just talking about his day when his friends stop by. He caught you a few times, staring blankly at him when he blurted out dialects out of frustrations, and he laughed them off when you accuse him of lying to you about what the words actually mean.

With his mom stopping by, the dialects are going to be thick and you would probably stare blankly most of the time. Communications are limited and Yoongi had to come back and forth to translate some of them.

Korean cooking is not your forte. Let's put that out there, in the open for everyone to see and understand. You are not familiar with it, and although you love some of it, some just don't fit your taste buds. But Yoongi is a full blown Korean. You make adjustments here and there, but it's not like he is always around for you to cook them often. That's why your korean cooking skills deteriorated. Even simple things like choosing which mushrooms to cook with takes 10 minutes longer than it probably should. You went with your heart and took the one you saw first.

Yoongi came out from the baths to see an empty room. Your perfume wafts over his nostril and it tattles about your whereabouts. Just as he was about to investigate, his phone shrieked a calling tone. It was Jungkook. Asking for a chord. He sounds desperate and bored to death. Being a good friend, Yoongi speds to his home studio after clumsily putting on some white tee on top of a grey shorts, halfway through and sending him several chords the little guy could work with, then pulling the rest of the shirt down as it loads. He swore he didn't take long but he found you already changing your clothes and starting to chop things on the chopping board, sloppily. He knows that it was not you to do things sloppily so he offered to help sharpen the knives.

"Soy garlic stew?"

You chewed your lips at him as he asked and nodded. Anxiety was written all over you. Your hands were already so shaky, and that's why you couldn't hold the knife properly, aside from it being blunt. You turned to the sink and began chopping the scallions with another knife Yoongi handed you.

“There are some potatoes I bought in the paper bags, I brought the mushroom I am familiar with, I am not sure if it's the one used in the stew. What time is it already? Is this enough time to even cook the stew? The chicken hasn’t thaw has it? I am not going to have enough time… She is going to know that the dumpling is store bought and I am putting my pride on the line…” you spoke nonstop, didn’t even hear Yoongi if he was saying anything, which you assumed he was quiet, so you became annoyed and, “Why aren’t answering any questions I have??”

Yoongi stood there, with a blank expression, “You wouldn’t even let me talk…”

You answered your own questions, and he was here listening to everything, opening his mouth and closing it before any word could come out because you bulldozed him with words, as he dug out the potatoes you were talking about, as well as the mushrooms.

“I’m sorry, I watched the youtube video on making the stew on the way to the mart and it seems pretty complicated, but doable… I think that the ginger and garlic goes in first,” you paused and sighed, “It’s been awhile since I cooked a proper meal for myself. I don’t know if I had it in me to even do this anymore…”

That’s right. While Yoongi was always away from the last two years, his work trips extended from 3 months to a whole year, and while studying for your master’s degree, you opt for simpler food, just enough for you to get by the day with a filled stomach. Most of your time is dedicated to your studies and laundry. Stopping by Daegu was hardly done, and if anything, you would just send some gifts her way. It is pretty awkward between you and his mother; language barriers, interests, and principles. You didn’t notice when Yoongi was standing behind you, his hand was on top of yours, soothing over your knuckles and he hijacked the scissors from your hands gently.

And he whispered softly atop of your head, “I got this.”

Just like that, he took over kitchen duties and let you handle the simpler stuff like, putting the pot on the stove, fill water in it, skin the potatoes, chopped them into large cubes, unstub the capsicum, peel the skin off of the chicken, peel the garlic and ginger. Yoongi’s instructions are clear and easy to follow. After all the things are chopped and prepared, he hands the ladle to you.

Your eyes widen. And you shook your head. Stepping back. Yoongi clicked his tongue and chuckled through his nose. Coax you. But no, you stepped farther back. He then took your wrist gently and placed the ladle handle in your palm.

“Trust me?” “I trust you, it’s me I don’t trust.”

“I’ll help you every step. Let’s go. Have confidence!” “You’re the multi billionaire, I’m just the struggling degree student with a part time job.”

“You’re Min Yoongi’s wife.” “I find that hard to believe sometimes…”

With another scolding tut of his tongue, you conceded. With a heavy heart.

The chopped chicken pieces are placed in a boiling water pot, and when its reddish flesh turns white and is cooked, it is drained and washed underneath cold running water to remove impurities. You watched quietly as Yoongi cleans them with his capable hands. His veins protrude, extending well over his forearms. The tip of his fingers were pinker than the rest of his hands, and he smoothes over those nooks and crannies the chicken pieces have. As ridiculous as it may sound, you were quite envious of the fact that those chickens have his full attention now. Next, the carrots.

The carotene source is peeled and chopped in large size. Yoongi helped guide your hands over the handle of the knife, because he is pretty particular on how big he wanted those carrots to be.

“Isn’t that too large?” You asked him in a small voice. They are half the size of your thumb. “No, it’s just nice…” he replied in a low voice, his lips just behind your ear, “It has to be in the same size as the potatoes, so it will cook at the same time.”

Your bottom grazed over his front and he learns to just keep you sandwiched in between the counter and him, so it won’t turn to something else. He is just as anxious as you are with his mom coming. Therefore, the percentage of him turning frisky is zero to none. The onions come next. They are chopped in half and then into fours. Yoongi paused and braced himself for tear gas attacks only there was none. He asks where you bought those onions, and you replied, it was grown in your colleagues garden. They were given for free. And he comments,

“They should sell these, we will be their first loyal customer! It doesn’t sting!”

You laughed as you prepared the fruits you bought. It was rock melon and some papayas. You avoided buying tangerine because you know she will bring some from her hometown, knowing how much Yoongi loves them. Daegu’s tangerines are very sweet and plump. There is nothing like it. Yoongi sliced green onions for the stew and extra hot chili peppers because his mom likes them spicy. Then he prepares the mixture for the broth.

“Now watch,” he instructed you, “Soy sauce, rice wine, red chilli pepper powders, minced garlic, two cups of sugar, red pepper paste, sesame oil, pepper. Mix well.”

Yoongi prepared a pot and placed the cleaned chicken pieces in them, added potatoes, carrots and water with the mixture he made just prior. Then, boil. After the chicken is cooked thoroughly, he adds onions. Then the scallions. Then salt to taste. You prepared the oven and Yoongi carried the pot to it to keep it warm until his mom arrived. Dumplings were pan fried. That one was simple. His mom doesn’t like her beverages too sweet, a simple plain water is enough.

When all the food is done, you turn to him at the same time he did. Sweats rolling down his sideburns and his thin white shirt clinging on his skin like he ran a mile. You approached him with a huge smile, swept his hair back to reveal his forehead and dabbed your inner wrist to wipe away his sweat all around his face. He sniggers through his nose. Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, you can’t help but plant a kiss on them. Nuzzling your face on his neck, you draped your arm around his shoulder and mumbled, “Thank you…”

He leans his cheek on your head and kisses one side of your brain, before exclaiming that you both need another shower after cleaning up the kitchen and turning on the air humidifier to chase away the smell of cooking.

“How was the journey?” you chirped. “The weather is scorching hot, the sun is melting me away before I can meet my son,” Yoongi’s mom complained in a thick Daegu accent, and when she stepped in, she gave you a glance and straight away went looking for her precious son. As expected.

“He was just out of the shower, he will come soon, mother,” you said the last word awkwardly, it doesn’t really roll off your tongue as comfortably as it should. She replied to you with a dejected “Hmm.”

You blinked and cast your eyes downwards, then up again to change the topic, “...Let me take you some cold drink… it must have been a torture, to walk around in such hot weather,” you sped to the kitchen and grabbed her a cold water in a tall glass.

“Hello mom…” Yoongi revealed himself from the hallway, gave his mother a hug that you didn’t receive when she walked in. “It wasn’t torture when I’ve come to see my son!” She suddenly changed her words, now she is all bright and cheerful, and you disappeared from her sight completely unless Yoongi looks over to you and includes you in the conversation. That too, wasn’t permanent. Yoongi learned that his older brother’s wife is carrying a baby and Holly had been snuggling to her tummy at every chance she gets. The sight would have been adorable and they were able to take a picture of it so Yoongi’s mom excitedly showed them to Yoongi. They both are sitting on the sofa while you were in the kitchen scooping up cooked rice into bowls of three.

“This sofa is new isn’t it? I didn’t see it the last time I was here,” his mom asked. “Yes, yes… do you like it?” Yoongi said and said you chose them. Then her enthusiasm dissipates. “I like it better without one. Now it’s too westernized,” his mom’s lips turned lopsided, continuing, “Did you know that hanging your legs down will disrupt the blood flow up to your brain? We better sit down on the floor when we eat, too…”

Yoongi prepared a Japanese folded table and pushed aside the coffee table that was there. Everything you’ve prepared on the dining table was moved to the Japanese one. When everything is set, you and Yoongi wait for his mom to start eating before you both do. It’s tradition. Even between man and wife, the older one begins eating first. Yoongi sips the stew and then you begin scooping the stew into your bowl. You were the only one eating mostly with a spoon instead of chopstick since you aren’t too accustomed to it. Yoongi’s mother said in a joking tone that you should start using the training chopstick used by toddlers.

Why are you extra sensitive today? She was just joking, but smiling is so hard right now. Your cheeks feel heavy and your shoulders stiffened. Yoongi carried the rest of the conversation effortlessly. The deep Daegu accent is already shifting your attention towards the fried dumpling instead. It was just a little over 45 minutes since she arrived, why does it feel like days?

“Dumplings, mother?” You chirped, attempted to use the chopstick and successfully landed them in her bowl.

Then she puts them back where they were, and said, “I don’t eat store-bought dumpling, darling,” before resuming to tell Yoongi the story about her neighbour getting into a real estate feud. You hold your breath in your throat and try not to think about it too much. Although you’ve finished your bowl of rice, Yoongi still hasn’t. He was busy nodding away to what his mother was saying. She barely touched the stew. When she turned to her food, you tapped Yoongi’s knee underneath the table and he looked at you wide eyed, darting at the stew. And Yoongi’s lips turned to the shape of an “O”.

“How do you like the stew, mom?” He asked. “It’s okay…” “My wife made it…” Yoongi said with a smug smile.

You smiled, shyly.

“It tastes exactly how Yoongi would cook it. I thought you cooked it, I know how horrible her korean cooking is, Yoongi… You don’t have to lie to me,” his mom passed.

After bidding her farewell at the door, Yoongi accompanied her to his brother’s incoming vehicle that fetches her. His brother made a promise to stop by when the baby arrives and when the Covid cases reduce a bit. You watched from the window from your bedroom and when the car drove off with Yoongi waving goodbye to his mom, your heart thudded differently.

Your eyes stung, and tears impending to fall as it collected around the brims. As you heard the front door beeping open to Yoongi returning, your feet dashed to the bathroom door, pushing it open as your tears rolled down your face like a dam broke.

Sensitive? Too soft? Was I too emotional? Am I not trying hard enough to be enough?

Yoongi walks in, to an eerily silent house. Ridding his shirt by pulling it over his head as he walks down the dimly lit hallway. His heavy footsteps heard across the floorings and you covered your mouth with your hand to not make any sound. He noticed that the bathroom light was on unlike the rest of the room.

“You’re showering alone? Traitor…” he pouted and wriggled the door knob and noticed it was locked from the inside. “I have a stomach ache,” you hoped you sound convincing. Your voice didn’t sound as shaky and you hope he didn’t catch on. “Okay…” he said, after a long pause. You turned the shower on to reduce the sound of you crying, and went back to sitting on the floor by the door, dug the heels of your palm into your eyes socket, and hugged your knees, sniffling.

“Hey…” his voice muffled through the door. “Hmm?” you replied, through a broken smile.

“Are you okay?”

Another dam broke.

Shit, I’ve started crying again. Why can’t I stop crying?! He is going to find out now… Fuck.

“Talk to me. Please… Say something. Anything,” he puts his lips inches away from the door, covering his hand over his mouth to direct the sound towards you, hoping it would get through.

“Was it mom? She says something you don’t like? You know how mom is, right? She doesn’t mean any of it…” now it’s Yoongi’s turned to bulldoze you with questions he himself answered.

Unable to take it anymore, you had to speak out, even if it means behind closed doors.

“I know she doesn’t like me as a daughter-in-law…” you spoke in broken voices. “Nonsense…” Yoongi passed, nonchalantly.

“No, will you please just listen to me?!” you raised your voice a bit, “I am not like your brother’s wife who cooks great Korean food, who sends her nice homemade desserts to her likings, and now is bearing a grandchild for her. I can’t cook, and had to rely on you a lot. She came over and she didn’t give me a hug like she did you, and the whole she doesn’t even speak to me unless I speak to her first, and even then, she shuts me down so I couldn’t say another word. I can’t even use a damn chopstick or make homemade dumplings she’ll eat!”

It’s Yoongi’s turn to lean his back on the door and hug his knees, then hang his head low.

“Suddenly the sofa is too westernized. And the glass doors letting in too much sunlight when I renovated it the way she wanted. It seems like everything I do is wrong and I just have no place in the Min’s household no matter how hard I try,” you sniffed, and, “To make matters worse she brought up the girlfriends you had in high school and how they cook her favourite food! Girlfriends! Plural! Here I thought you only had one… Jokes on me, I guess… It’s fine, honestly.”

There's nothing more terrifying than the word ‘fine’ you threw when you’re sad and Yoongi knows it. It signifies so many things. It indicates that you’re done, and you’re ready to let go of it, by shoving it under the rug like many other things your mother in law did to you ever since you met her. Yoongi shot his head up when the door opened and his eyes followed you in silence, a little solemn. You dried your hair, sitting on the makeup chair table, running the cool air Dyson hairdryer over the lengths of your hair. Yoongi crawled on all four and knelt behind you to hug your waist, nuzzling his face on your lower back. Then the tears returned, and kept falling.

Your gaze is stuck on the reflection of you in the mirror. What have we become?

It was one of those moments where no words seemed to suffice. Regrets and guilt becomes almost the same thing. Pointing the blame is the last thing on your mind. Choosing sides is difficult when so much is at stake. You may have unclasped his arm from around your waist, heard his wordless gesture and refused to see his face, but so much of him is in you. The fact you held on for so long was because of that man you love and married. Is this going to happen everytime your mother in law stops by?

Even then, you didn't want him to go against his own mother, nor do you want him to side with her… It was such a confusing situation.

Yoongi needs to return to the studio. He packs a few toiletries and clothes for him to wear while he is there. You helped him pack leftover food so you are not burdened to finish everything alone. The conversation shifts to what matters now. You carry your duty as a wife, his partner. You make sure that he is able to provide for this family and even though your emotions are once again neglected for the time being, you were glad that it actually occupied your mind and heart.

At the door, his manager carried his things and instead of leaving along with his manager, Yoongi told him to go first. You already know what comes next. But you aren't sure if you had it in you. One look in your eyes and Yoongi knows that you will rather die than have that conversation all over again. He ran his finger through your hair, lowered his lips to your forehead and stayed like that for awhile, and you said,

“Take care of yourself,” you spoke to his chest, breathing in his musky cologne for the days ahead without him. He stepped back, thumbed your cheek and pinched your chin, tilting your head back. He glanced at your lips while biting his own then backed away, to leave. As the view of his back got smaller and smaller, he exclaimed, “I’m going.” Not once did he turn behind to have one last look. And it was something Yoongi would do. Doesn’t matter if it's at the airport, or at the backstage, he will never look at you after he leaves you, even when he knows you’re right there standing, and looking at him. He says that, if he saw you standing there waiting for him, he will not be able to fight the urge to run to you. So he never looks back. The one thing that he always does before a work trip, is to kiss your forehead. Dr. Laurel Steinberg says, a forehead kiss indicates strong emotional intimacy.

But Yoongi says that a forehead kiss to him signifies a bond that goes beyond lust and love, it was your soul. It is to say, “I might be too far away to hold you, but my soul is yours.” It sends butterflies and confettis your way when he does it. It always feels warm and you always feel protected with a stamp of Yoongi’s lips on your forehead. It feels like a talisman. That no matter what, Yoongi is here.

Recovery. The emotional turmoil, the rollercoaster. You fill your time organizing the photos Yoongi took. With your final exams finished a week ago, you’re given a month off before you begin your final year. Yoongi now lives in his studio office because the album recording session begins and he is in every process. He is in charge of doubling and finalizing the tracks, directing and whatnot. Yoongi sends you a 1 minute 23 seconds video. Scowling at it, your face softened at the sight of him, recording himself in the studio. Dark circles doubled in size and his cheeks sunken. Poor thing hadn't been eating well did he?

“Hey, sweetie…” his familiar guttural voice resonated with your heart strings, “Sorry I haven’t been able to properly give you a call. It’s too late when I’m free, and I’m asleep when you’re awake. So I figured I’ll just send you a damn video, to hell with it.” You chuckled softly as your visions turned blurry.

“I think I will be addressing the recent issue we tucked away for later day. It’s later. You have never been good at fighting for yourself. It was something I don’t really understand because I’ve seen you fight my fight for me,” he glanced to the side and smiled fondly. You were unclear what situation he was talking about but you kept listening.

“You told me that I shouldn’t side with you because that would mean I am against my mother. Here’s what I truly think…” he breathed in and sighed loudly, “I think I should side with you. I spoke to my mom a few days ago, asked her how she is, and I told her several things I don’t like, like bringing up my past ex girlfriend, or how you can’t use the chopstick yet, or how your korean cooking isn’t great yet… how upset it made you and me. She told me that she was just jealous. I left home when I was 16. Come back when I am 20, married at 25. I will always be her son, I let her know that. But I am now someone’s husband, and I happen to cherish this someone, her heart and her wellbeing is my responsibility. I am not stolen from my mom, I consciously chose this person to be with me, to be her husband and built a home with her. And if she can’t respect that, then she cannot return to our house…”

You had to set the phone down and wipe your tears with the back of your hand.

“I’m done being a referee,” Yoongi continued after a long pause, “You’re gonna cry again, and I won’t be able to pass you tissue or give you a hug, I hope you understand what I’m trying to say. I am proud of you and all the little things you do. Daegu dialect is difficult to understand ha? That’s alright. You’re getting your degree, and you help pack my things even though you’re sad as hell the day I left. I couldn’t… I couldn’t ask for a better wife, and I hardly think I deserve you. Until we meet again, soon. Your husband, Min Yoongi.”

The video cuts to him winking.

Another text from him,

[Yoongi, 1.03AM] Impression is never permanent. I hope you give mother another try…

Wife is typing...

[Wife, 1.04AM] Erm. [Wife, 1.04AM] Sends a pic.

[Wife, 1.05AM] How’s this for a lasting impression?

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copyright © 2020 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading

[apixrl]

MORNING CUDDLES.

eijirou kirishima x fem!reader

WARNING(S): none

word count: 2.8k

note(s): eiji and his partner call each other love 25/8 and no u cannot tell me otherwise >:(

italian translation - translator !!

Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.

Your hand snuck its way out from under the duvet, blindly searching for your phone in order to shut off the nuisance that was your alarm. Once you did, you slowly let your eyes drift open and meet the blank canvas of the ceiling above.

The sun was peeking through the blinds off to the left side, causing streaks of light to form on your bedroom walls and bed itself. None of them obstructed your vision luckily, there was nothing worse than lying in bed only to have the sun blind you. A light snore interrupted your tiredness and caused your eyes to open wider, directing them off to the right to meet that of your boyfriend, Eijirou.

As per usual, he looked at peace during his state of slumber. His mouth hung slightly open to reveal his iconic sharpened teeth as snores broke through them. His usual gelled up hair was now ironed down to structure his face and practically conceal it with the amount there. It swept over one of his eyes - though didn't stop the scar on his right one peeking through. The rest of his hair was mushed up between his cheek and the pillow his head lay on.

You smiled at the sight, losing yourself in his handsomeness for a moment before leaning forwards to peck his forehead softly. You then pulled back the covers on your side, making an effort (reluctantly) to sit yourself up and swing your legs over the end of the bed. Just as you were about to find the means to stand, something tugged you back causing you to gasp. It was only when Eijirou's voice hit your ear that you processed what happened.

"Morning," The redhead let out, voice hoarse and deeper than usual to signal the classic case of morning croak, something you always loved to hear first thing. An arm snaked around your front to pull you back against Eijirou's abdomen. With a little smile, you turned your face to the love of your life, who was tiredly gazing at you.

"Good morning," You faintly sang. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mhhm," Eijirou replied, using his spare hand to reach up and rub his waking eyes at the same time as he released a mighty yawn. "You?"

"Like a baby," Was your answer as Eijirou allowed his hand to gently graze your forearm affectionately. You hummed softly, not wanting to move one bit from the comfort. If anything, you would have liked to have remained under his touch the entire day. Something about his subtle physical signs of adoration brought you head over heels for him, even more so than you already were. But you knew it couldn't last forever. So after a minute of sweet quiet, you proceeded to shift forwards to try and get up. Only to find the grip on you tighten and a disgruntled noise of protest to leave Eijirou's throat.

"Love, I gotta get up," You spoke and turned back to him with a sigh. "I've got that meeting at 10, remember?"

"No," Was the only thing you received back from your partner. Eijirou looked up gently into your E/C eyes. "Five more minutes?"

At first, you went to say a flat no, mainly because you'd expected him to act like this despite knowing full well you were going out. But you eventually concluded on a compromise to try and be smart about it. Fingers playing with the sheets of your bed, you spoke up once more.

"How about you let me go grab us a hot drink and then five more minutes?" It seemed to do the trick. Eijirou paused in thought before gently mumbling an 'okay', the grip on you loosening to give you the freedom to stand up. Once you stood upright you looked back to Eijirou, who was following your every move through tired red eyes.

"I'll come back in sec okay?"

"You better,"

This clingy side to Eijirou usually came out on the first day or two of him having time off work. Since he was a Pro-Hero he could sometimes be working days on end without a break, so moments like this the pair of you really treasured to maintain a healthy relationship. You smiled during your trip to the kitchen, his touch still on your mind as you started to prepare yourself a steaming F/H/D and a simple black coffee for Eijirou.

On your way back to the bedroom you made a pit stop to go to the toilet and somewhat freshen yourself up. All you did was brush your hair and wash your face (you planned to do make-up later) and then you were heading back to Eijirou. You opened the door with your foot since both hands were occupied by mugs.

"I told you I wasn't going to be long,"

"It was too long," His voice came from the bundle of covers, a head poking out from under as you saw a flash of a toothy grin. It was more tired than usual but still held the same passion nonetheless.

"Somebody's impatient,"

"Whatever. Now let me use you as a pillow," Eijirou uttered, waiting for you to put the drinks down and to get into bed. Pulling back the cream covers of your shared bed you were soon engulfed by arms as a head found refuge on your chest.

"Happy?" You said with a laugh. Eijirou nodded and let his eyes close, listening to the sound of your heartbeat against his cheek with a soft grin. He then felt himself get even more at home when your fingertips guided themselves to play with the ends of his hair.

"Yes,"

---

"Come on, Eijirou... I need to go get ready," You whined, rolling your eyes at the silence you received back. Only the soft and light pecks of kisses landing on your shoulder blade signalled Eijirou's distraction, almost pretending to be deaf for his own personal benefit. You rolled back in order to make him stop, looking up at Eijirou in protest. At first, he sent you a nearly offended gaze at daring to make such a movement, claiming he wasn't finished and had intentions of carrying on. Though slowly his jaw altered to a pout, reaching to tuck some hair behind your ear.

"Do you have to go?" Eijirou mumbled and leaned down to peck your lips.

"Yes, I do," You answered.

"Can't you just call in sick or something?"

"I already did that three weeks ago... so probably not,"

"Please?"

"I said I can't. Now get up, lazy bones,"

You went to get up once more, this time forcing yourself through the gripping fingers and hands of Eijirou to escape the bed. When you came out successful you released a small laugh of triumph much to Eijirou's dismay. It was there you walked to your closet and took the clothes hanging over the door on a clothing hanger, looking back at Eijirou whose face had now emerged further from under the covers to watch you.

"Is it even an important meeting, love?" Eijirou said, eyes following as you shuffled back to the bed and put the clothes at the bottom. You released a sigh as you turned to put the clothing hanger back in the closet, not aware of the cheap move Eijirou made when you weren't looking and instead answered his question.

"Not really? But because I missed the last one - no thanks to you, I think it'd be better I should get to this one," Wandering back to the bed, slipping off the shirt you'd stolen off Eijirou the night before as you did, Eijirou rolled his eyes and undermined your words.

"So... miss this one and go to the next,"

"As I recall you said that last time and promised you wouldn't say it when it occurred again... but here we are," There was a little smirk on your face when you caught him rolling his eyes, and in response, you playfully tossed the shirt you'd had on at the redhead. Eijirou snickered and managed to catch it before it hit his face, going to crumple it into a ball and place it next to him.

"You throw like a girl,"

"And you scream like one, doofus,"

"I'm not a doofus... doofus,"

Eijirou couldn't help but smirk in amusement at you, his face lighting up all the more into a bright beam when he heard a laugh release on your part. You were just finishing buttoning up your collar shirt as Eijirou watched, arms crossing over his chest. He cocked his head back against the headrest as well as to the side in thought.

"I ever tell you that you look good in shirts like that?" The redhead stated, receiving a glare that had formed on your face.

"Don't you get any ideas,"

"Wasn't suggesting any, just stating the obvious," He raised his arms in defence as you sat down on the bed by his legs, reaching for the blazer.

"That's also something you said last time and look what happened there - wait where's my...?" You were one sleeve through your blazer when you noticed that one of your pieces of clothing was missing. The navy blue pencil skirt that matched your top half to be more specific. You looked behind and around you, and also to the closet thinking you forgot to grab it with everything else, proceeding to frown in thought.

You swore you hung it up there and -

With a heavy exhale, you felt your body twist around and turn to a particularly quiet Eijirou sitting behind you.

His expression read it all like he was trying to be both obvious and mysterious all in one go in order to get you to question him. It most definitely worked, a hand meeting your hip as you stood upright and quirked a quizzical brow.

"Eiji?"

"Hm? What is it, dearest?"

"Can I have my skirt back please?"

"What do you mean? I don't have your skirt," His growing smirk and amusement in his eyes betrayed his words, refusing to make eye contact with you in a playful manner you'd seen countless times before.

"Okay, so where is it then?"

"I don't know," He innocently shrugged. "Maybe the skirt fairy came and took it,"

"The skirt fairy," You repeated, disbelief laced in your voice.

"Yep," He said through a laugh. "I don't know what to tell you, love. There can't be any other explanation,"

"Just give me back my skirt before I get behind on time,"

"I don't have it,"

"Yes, you do,"

"No, I don't,"

"Don't make me jump you, bitch,"

"I honestly wouldn't com- oof!"

Before Eijirou could finish his sentence, he only just managed to catch you when you pounced at him without remorse. Luckily he just managed to protect himself and readjusted your intended position, victoriously smirking up at you and pointing a finger.

"Hah! Not this time!"

"I hate you sometimes,"

"No, you don't. You love me,"

"I swear to god -," You let out, arms crossing over your chest. Eijirou had sat you on top of him, legs on either side of him as he remained under the covers. "Can I please just have my skirt back?"

"You mean the one that's under the sheets by my feet?" He blankly stated, letting his hands rest themselves on your hips quite comfortably. He couldn't help but laugh at your less than amused expression.

"Why can't you just let me get ready?"

"I'm not stopping you... I'm just making it more difficult,"

"Educate me on how?"

"Well the only way to get your skirt is to get back into bed... and if you get back into bed I'm not letting you get back out,"

"You're really being this persistent, hm?"

"Maybe a little more than intended,"

You hopelessly sighed, looking at the ceiling with a mental cry of both impatience and leisure. The inner want to go to your wardrobe and pull out a fresh skirt was the easy way out, yes, but the temptation of the game Eijirou intended to play was getting to you more than expected. That and you knew he wouldn't let you simply get off him, the grip on your waist not only implying endearing affection.

Eijirou raised his voice, reeling you back to his attention. Despite your annoyance, you did make an effort to admire his features. From his loose hair to his fixed jawline where the tint of a smirk riddled with confidence rested. The pretty glow in his carmine gaze drew you in each time without a fault. He was so undeniably attractive, no doubt about it.

"You know what sounds fun?"

"What?" Partly having a sense of what was to leave his lips.

"If you...," He paused as he subtly cocked his head at you. "Stayed in bed and cuddled with me all morning," Another pause. "Because I haven't seen you in four or five days and I miss you,"

"But we watched a movie and spent some time together last night knowing I was going out today,"

"Yeah but... you're cute on a morning,"

"Opposed to other times when I'm not?" It was Eijirou's turn to send you a little glare in protest before he returned to his pleading nature.

"You're cute all the time,"

Yet another few seconds of quiet.

"Just - stay with me today? And do your meeting-thingy tomorrow?"

"You, Eijirou Kirishima, are going to be the death of me," Leaning down to rest your forehead on Eijirou's shoulder whilst releasing a long groan from the back of your throat. Maybe not so great of an idea since that allowed him to wrap you right into his grasp, you held yourself there briefly as he allowed his fingertips to mess with your hair.

"Probably," Eijirou mumbled softly, tilting his head against yours as he once again let his touch wander. The unexpected cuddle definitely didn't go unnoticed as you pondered in your position, practically ready to fall asleep when Eijirou started to rub up and down your back. Like a moth to a flame, he had you wrapped around his finger, knowing that in the end, he was always going to get his own way. Of course, in other circumstances, he'd usually let you win. But not when it came to morning cuddles.

Definitely not when it came to morning cuddles.

As if waiting for you to talk, Eijirou stared into your strands of H/C hair whilst inhaling the scent of coconut from the shampoo you used the evening prior. He expectantly caressed your hip, his final attempt to win you over confidently coming to a climax at the word that exited your mouth.

"Fine,"

You could practically feel the smirk against the back of your head as Eijirou's touch became all the more prominent and rewarding. He let one of his arms extend out to grab your phone, handing it over to you as you hesitantly sat up with a hotness to your cheeks and found the contact of your workplace.

Eijirou simply watched you the whole time, taking you all in like he was casting gaze upon you for the first time. No matter how many times that happened, he still managed to find you all the more beautiful. He ran a hand through his flattened hair and exhaled merrily as he let your voice sink into his ears, watching the smile on your face grow as you caught him looking.

"Yeah - Again, I'm really sorry I can't make it, Eijirou caught something whilst working and he's bound to the bed cause' of it," You held up crossed fingers in hopes you wouldn't sound like you were lying, glancing at your boyfriend who appeared to chuckle.

And yet again your lie went unnoticed. The call was over in seconds, tossing your phone to the empty side of the bed.

"Why'd you say I was sick?"

"Because if I said it was me they'd probably ask about the last time you forced me to stay off, and how often I'm apparently unwell,"

"Right,"

"But, it looks like you got your way," You said, going to change out the white shirt to put your pyjama shirt back on, placing the work clothes to the bottom of the bed as Eijirou waited patiently.

"Come," Was all he said once you looked back at him, opening his arms for you to sink into. Which you did, reaching that comfortable position within his grasp as though you belonged there. Except this time, Eijirou directed your face towards his, pulling your lips to his in one smooth addicting manner that you felt butterflies in your stomach for.

In the meantime your drinks were disregarded as the clock ticked on, the pair of you forgetting their presence on the bedside table. The steam soon dissipated to nothing the cooler the fluids got.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you,"

He could sense the smile that formed on your lips.

"I love you too,"

[fvrxdrm]

Through the Valley

Pairing: Jesse McCree x F!Reader

Warning(s): Mentions of violence, angst

Setting: Deadlock/Pre-Blackwatch/Pre-recall

Song: Through the Valley (Ellie’s cover)

*****

When the universe was formed, the world was sculpted with rocks, and when the world was sculpted with rocks, strange beings were brought down to earth, and when strange beings were brought down to earth, sins were born, and when sins were born, dissensions were brought to light, and when dissensions were brought to light, war had clouded the visions of many beings and humanity teared itself down, one by one, with metal blades and flying arrows, and evolving into something much more minacious and powerful…

…like a gun.

So much vigor, so much anger, so much power. With one pull of a trigger, one life could be led towards heaven or hell, with no chance of escaping a baneful bullet; piercing through the skin and tearing the flesh, embedding itself deep till the person dies losing blood or be lucky enough to survive such fatal shot.

An excellent marksman’s the only one capable of doing that.

Specifically, those who know their guns by heart.

They are precise. They are rigorous. And they make every shot count. They make sure the target receives the end of their blazing weapons, and they’ll do it again and again till they’re satisfied with the bloodshed they’ve created. Their eyes would gleam with red, and blood would boil deep within their veins.

Even with one shot, those who feel agony could be standing right in front of death’s door.

There’s this marksman though, a gunslinger who seems to have held a gun since his mother gave birth to him. His accuracy cannot be matched even by those whose experiences have passed through the roof. Even with a blindfold on he still knew where to point his revolver at. He was a shit-hot at what he was doing, as they say.

Deadeye is what they call him.

People believe that the Deadeye was a curse that was passed from his ancestors to their descendants, and he happens to be their newest successor, which means he was to hold the malediction whether he liked it or not.

Truth is, it isn’t a curse.

Born by pain and abandonment, he was forced to teach himself how to survive on his own at such a young age. He worked hard to feed himself with enough food to desist from dying from an empty stomach, he rode by rivers and looked out for cacti to give himself something to drink, and most importantly, he taught himself how to pull a trigger and defend himself from nasty foes with the use of a gun he likes to call…the Peacekeeper.

After so many years of living and surviving on his own, a gang who called themselves the Deadlock Rebels took him with them and dinned him on how to rob banks and stir up ruckus in villages and towns. He was happy to have found a family who he could rely himself on even with their twisted intentions, and for the first time in his entire life, he felt rapturous.

Every blood he spilled was a trophy to be held in his hands, every eye that widened in fear had the hunger lurking beneath consume him until he became the monster that he was, every bullet that flew with the speed of light had his teeth grinding together, and every word that spread around town had him grinning with sharpened fangs.

People see him as the devil himself, only softening what was left of his heart when a kiss was pressed against his vulgar lips.

His lover was pristine and innocent, an angel in contrast to the demon he turned himself into. She had bright eyes and a scintillating smile, a touch so gentle and feather-like, a voice so small and warm, and a forgiving heart nobody deserved to earn unless she allowed it to.

Folks have wondered how on earth had she given a killer a chance and had asked the same question over and over again, but she always replied with the same answer as well;

“He was orphaned by evil and war; always have, always will be. Someone as broken as him may not be fixed, but they deserve love just as much as those who have found their place in order to help find their purpose on earth again. There are paths in front of them to help guide them in life, and what surrounds them will give them a reason to stay in the path they’ve chosen.”

Some people agree, some people don’t. But at the end of the day, it’s her belief and children look up to her and admire the goodwill she possesses even though her trust was something to be worried about. She claims she knows what she’s doing and all the world hopes that she truly does.

The heart of his lover would burn at every bruise and every wound the young man would come home with, and every word of what his gang had done would send her heart palpitating in an almost irregular speed. She feared of what was to come, and she hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t end up like the folks who have met the end of Peacekeeper’s barrel.

Years have passed and the man grew into a more ruthless killer. He had a heart of stone but it never forgot the woman who have given him an aspiration better than what they had then. He was going to be head and shoulders above, he promised. Just not now. The devil on his shoulder was still pulling him underneath. And when the day the voices in his head have stopped screaming comes, he’ll find a better home for the two of them; one where they could raise a few children of their own and make love until the sun rises in the east.

But alas, the dreams he had hoped for came to an unfortunate close…

The Deadlocks had been ambushed by soldiers of Overwatch, slowly killing the only family he’s had and taking him and his lover in to probably rot for the rest of their lives. Blue had befogged his vision, but red had risen flames inside of him.

Bullets flew from his tongue the moment he was thrown into a room flooded in black with only a poor excuse of a light hanging above him. He sat impatient, fists clenching and unclenching in fear of what they might’ve done to his girl. She could’ve been suffering from a harrowing death and nobody gave him one last chance to say what must be said before her final moments, and that was enough to untether something wilder inside of him.

He was given two options: he would be thrown into jail and be left there to rot or be given a chance to walk in the right path and leave the wrong, change himself and the world for the better.

The commander had seen something in him: a potential. The woman was right when she said he was forced into a void full of nothing but anguish at such a young age, and pity was what he felt for the gunslinger.

The power he had with his gun was nothing Reyes had ever seen. He was one with Peacekeeper; both thriving to reach the heights with ardor and strength. It would a shame if his talent was just going to be thrown into waste. So, what better way to use it than with noble purpose?

He was right. The offer was better than to slowly sink into the fires of hell. But what’s the point of throwing his hat into the ring if the woman he loves was in the opposite side of the wall? What’s the point of it all if she wasn’t going to be the shoulder he could cry on? What made it even worse was the fact that he was just going to be stuck in a goddamn loop.

Maybe dreams were only meant to be dreams…

It seemed like the world gave him a certain fate; a fate where death was something that would haunt him like a ghost whenever he was in the firing line, a fate where shadows were to be seen in his line of sight, and possibly a fate where he becomes a weapon himself and shoot down those he cared for dearly. And it scared him. But, what choice did he have? He’d rather see the world again and again, even in its darkest times, than die pathetically in his cage.

“Good choice, kid. I think you both know why you were brought here on earth in the first place.”

'Cause I walk through the valley of the shadow of death And I fear no evil because I'm blind Oh, and I walk beside the still waters and they restore my soul But I know when I die my soul is damned

Jesse sang with shaky breath, fingers trembling against tattered wood, before his hands rested loosely against his guitar and sighed into the warm night air.

“We’ll be alright,” his lover said. Her calloused fingers gently grasped his metallic one and smiled sadly at him.

They both wore rings, a symbol of the love they’ve treasured and every trial they’ve come across along the way. The vows they’ve exchanged gave them a reason to stay, a reason to fight again. It was a bittersweet surrender, but it was worth it.

“Yeah, we’ll be alright.”

[ivarswickedqueen]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIS

My dear friend @lisinfleur​​ celebrates her birthday today and here is my little gift for this amazing friend of mine ♥  I love you and I am happy and honored that I can call you my friend, babe ♥ 

Paring: Amma x Hvitserk Word account: 3285 Warning: none, oh there are spoilers for 6B, so if you didn’t watch it don’t read it ;) 

Amma was sharpening her sword and her arrowheads and she was afraid to go to sleep, because tomorrow there will be a huge battle between her people and Rus army led by Oleg the Prophet. She has never seen this man, but she heard enough stories about him to fear the day when he could possibly walk into the Kattegat as its new ruler. She also heard that prince Hvitserk Ragnarsson is marching with the Rus army alongside his younger brother Ivar and she didn’t know, what to think about it. The last time she saw Hvitserk was when his own brother Björn wanted to burn him alive because he killed his mother - the most famous shield-maiden in the world - Lagertha. But his other brother Ubbe saved him on Björn’s command and Björn casted him out of Kattegat for good, shouting these horrible words to his face: “I saved you. And do you want to know why I saved you? Because I know you were happy to die. But I don't want you to be happy. No. I don't want you to enter Odin's Hall. I want you to suffer a living death, expelled from Kattegat and the haunts of men, destined to die in a ditch in some forest somewhere, utterly forgotten, wretched, insignificant, unmemorable! Like a flea on a sheep's back. Take him away! He won't survive the winter.” That day Amma couldn’t help herself and she felt so sorry for him. She spent so many days with the young prince. She watched him, when he was sleeping, shivering and murmuring nonsense words under his nose, trembling because he was an addict. He was obviously addicted to mushrooms and his brothers didn’t care enough to help him through the rough times. She knew why he started escaping his problems in the alternate realities created by the mushrooms in his system. His brother Ivar treated him like a dog and mocked him in front of everyone for a very long time, making him feel like a shit even though Hvitserk jumped ship for him and abandoned his beloved brother Ubbe. And when he found someone who finally made him happy, a beautiful girl named Thora, Ivar burned her and her whole family alive. And it was second of Hvitserk lovers who found death in his younger brother’s arms. The slave girl Margrethe was murdered by Ivar’s men even though he never admitted that publicly. Hvitserk suffered so much and he had nobody to care about him so he became this pitiful wreck of human being. She was trying to help him. She tried her best to keep him home, away from the drug dealers. She tried to make him eat properly and drink less ale, but he was stubborn and she had her own duties so she couldn’t be there for him all day. She felt so sad when she found him high as a kite every evening when she came back to the great hall, he was calling Thora’s name, saying the words full of love to someone who was long gone. He saw her everywhere, her burnt body telling him to kill Ivar, to avenge her, but he couldn't do anything, he was scared of Ivar, he was losing his mind and he saw him everywhere. Every shadow in his mind was Ivar, ever strange sound from outside was Ivar, slowly crawling to him, intending to finish him. He was slowly losing his mind and there was nothing she could do to help him.

But the real hell broke loose when he killed Lagertha. She couldn’t help him anymore. She was crying her eyes out when they took him away, tied him up to the stake and lit the fire under him.

But she quickly wiped out her eyes, when he was saved and casted out of the town. She quickly ran to her cabin, she took some food into a bag and few warm furs and clean male clothes that belonged to her brother, she also took one of her old swords and she quickly and quietly run to the woods. She knew that she will find Hvitserk there somewhere. He had nowhere else to run.

She found him after few minutes, trembling under a big tree. She gave him the dry clothes; she wrapped him into the warm furs and lit a fire. She cuddled closer to him, trying to warm him up because he was still trembling. She spent the night in his arms, feeling him hugging her tightly like if his life depended on it. Next morning she gave him the bag with food into one hand and the sword into another and with heavy heart she sent him on his way. She wanted to go with him, but she knew that her brothers would start looking for her soon and she didn’t want to cause him more troubles. And he didn’t show any interest for her to go with him. He seemed like he didn’t care what is going to happen to him. She watched him until he disappeared behind the horizon, thinking that it’s the last time when she saw his face.

And now he is back, leading the Rus army towards Kattegat. He obviously survived the cold winter and met Ivar in the woods. She was more than surprised when she heard that he is with Ivar again. She clearly remembered his terrified face when someone only mentioned Ivar’s name in front of him. Something obviously changed. She was wondering why he came back and for a very brief moment she let herself believe that he came back for her, but it was nonsense. He probably already forgot her face… He came back because he wanted revenge, he wanted to show Björn and Ubbe, that he was still worth something. That he is not some pathetic excuse for a human being. Amma finally put her sword down and changed her clothes and went to bed, trying to get some sleep before the big fight. She wasn’t very successful because she couldn’t fall asleep until four in the morning, Hvitserk’s face kept popping in front of her eyes, making her feel excited and frustrated, because she shouldn’t feel something like this for an enemy.

In the middle of the battle

Amma felt like if this battle took forever. It seemed to her like if it was days ago since Björn rode into the battle on his horse, mortally injured, leading his people into the battle for the last time. It felt like years ago, when her eyes found Hvitserk standing next to Oleg and Ivar. He looked so much better than the last time she saw him. He gained some weight, his hair were clean and braided again, he was sitting astride on his horse, looking majestic, looking around him with clear, intelligent and sober eyes. She could see that his eyes were green again, the blood stains were gone and so were his inner demons. His lips were no longer quivering. He looked again like a mighty warrior and she stopped worrying about him being easily striked down by the defending soldiers. She stopped worrying about him hours ago and right now she started worrying about herself. She was trained shield-maiden, but her arms were becoming weaker and weaker with every hit from their enemies. She let out a frustrated scream and stabbed her sword through the heart of the nearest fighter. But seconds later another two started banging their swords on her shield and she felt that her arms will give up on her soon if she won’t retreat. But she wasn’t a coward, she would stand her ground and fight until her last breath.  She fell on her knees and the bangs falling on her shield became louder and harder. She felt that her shield started slipping out of her hand and she had no control over it anymore. She closed her eyes and prepared herself for the final blow, but it never came. She heard someone shouted above her, and when she opened her eyes again, she saw Hvitserk standing above her, yelling commands and pushing those two soldiers away from her kneeling form.

“Can you stand up?” he asked her and she nodded shakily. Hvitserk’s strong arm pulled her up, but her trembling legs failed her and if he didn’t catch her, she would fall down on the ground again. “I will take care of you this time, sweet Amma,” he said softly and carefully took her away from the battle field in his strong arms, into one of the healing tents. He gently put her down on the bed and shouted at the healers to take care of her. He stepped aside and let the healers do their work, his eyes never leaving her small body. “You can go Prince Hvitserk, we will take care of her,” one of the healers assured him, but he didn’t move. He wanted to personally make sure, that she is OK. It seemed like he didn’t even care what is going on outside the tent. Amma lost her conscience couple times and then she fell asleep. When she woke up she was alone. Or at least she thought that she is alone until she heard angry voices yelling outside the tent. “Where the hell have you been?” Ivar yelled at someone and she shivered. “I just needed to make sure that she is OK, Ivar!” Hvitserk answered, his voice also full of anger. “Who is she? Who are you hiding inside that tent?” Ivar asked again and tried to step inside the tent but Hvitserk stopped him. “Don’t you dare to go inside, don’t you dare to go anywhere near her!” he shouted, obviously trying to stop his brother to go anywhere near Amma. “Listen to me Ivar, I care about this girl, she is the reason why I am still alive. She helped me to survive my darkest days and without her I would never be able to make it to the woods where you found me. I owe her my life! So listen to me very carefully little brother! If anything wrong going to happen to her by your hand , I will hunt you down and blood eagle you on the nearest tree, letting you there as a feast for the crows, do you understand me!!!” he growled the last words. She couldn’t hear Ivar’s answer, but it seemed like he simply nodded, surprised by his brother's sudden burst of protective words. Amma didn’t have time to think about everything she just overheard, because Hvitserk stepped inside the tent and rushed to her, when he noticed that she is awake. “How do you feel Amma?” he asked her, obviously worried if she is OK. “Tired, but happy that I didn’t enter Valhalla today,” she said with light smile and couldn’t take her eyes from his face. She only knew the addicted version of him, and his sober face was much more beautiful and lovable. “Why are you staring at me?” he laughed and gently tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. “You are so handsome, when you are sober,” she blurted and quickly covered her mouth with her injured hand, wincing in pain. “I am so sorry, prince Hvitserk,” she mumbled but he took her hand gently into his and smiled at her bitterly. “My dear Amma, you have every right to tell me the truth into my eyes. You saw me at my lowest point and you didn’t abandon me in those terrible dark times. You were the only light and warmth that kept me alive those days. But I wasn’t aware of it back then. I pushed you away, I yelled at you, I called you names, I refused your help and continued my road to my own destruction. But when Björn kicked me out of Kattegat and when the drugs got out of my system, I started seeing things clearly. I remembered everything. I remembered your encouraging words, telling me, that I can get through the darkness surrounding me, your sweet voice telling me that you believe in me, that you believe I can become the man who I used to be. It was you who made sure that I ate a warm meal every day, it was you, who helped me to lie down on bed and take off my clothes and shoes when I was too drunk to do it on my own. It was you, who was holding me when the nightmares and hallucinations surrounded me in the middle of the night or day. And most importantly, it was you who gave me warms clothes, food and weapon when my own family abandoned me and let me die in the woods. I will never forget that, my sweet, little, caring Amma. I was thinking about you a lot when I was in Kyiv. I was wondering what you were doing. I was worried If Björn hadn’t found out that you helped me and punished you for it. I was wondering if you are still single or if you found a fine man and gave him your heart,” he finally looked at her after his long speech, his eyes full of tears, guilt and love. He left her speechless, but she couldn’t say a word even if she could because he quickly continued. “Amma, I know that I wasn’t very kind to you. You witnessed the worst in me and you stayed by my side the whole time. I would love to show you my better side. I would like to show you the real Hvitserk, son of the great Ragnar Lothbrok. I would love to give you all my love and respect. I would love to cherish you, protect you and take care of you until my last breath. If you let me, my little sweet, courageous shield-maiden,” he smiled nervously and looked at her with so much hope in his beautiful green eyes that all she could do was nod her head and smile kindly at him. She was overwhelmed by his unexpected confession and by her own feelings, because she realized, that she was in love with him for a very long time and that she could be never happy without him. Hvitserk’s face lit with the brightest smile she has ever seen on it and gently kissed her forehead.  

Oleg the Prophet lost the battle and they had to retreat back to Kyiv and Amma didn’t have to think twice about it and left with them, never leaving Hvitserk’s side. She helped Ivar, Katia and Hvitserk to get Igor out of Kyiv and then she came back to Kattegat with the brothers. She didn’t expect warm welcome, especially when she heard that Gunnhild died. And she was right, people were hostile to her, because they saw her as a traitor. She wasn’t son of Ragnar so people of Kattegat did not forgive her so easily. So when Hvitserk told her that he would like to go with Ivar and Harald to go raiding in Anglia and to defeat young king Alfred, she didn’t hesitate and left Kattegat with both brothers. She was excited about the new adventure and about the new lands, but nothing went as they planned. Alfred won the battle and Ivar was stabbed to death and Hvitserk was seriously injured. They were both standing above Ivar’s grave, Amma was silent and let Hvitserk “speak” with his little brother for the last time.

“You don't know this, but you saved my life so many times. And one day, when we meet again, I can thank you. After all, one way or the other, none of us really lived a simple or ordinary life. And who wants to live an ordinary life? So enjoy Valhalla, brother, while it still exists. We can all see the sky darkening. We can all see the Twilight of the Gods. And I trust to be with you in that great defeat. So, hail and farewell, my brother. I wish I had something important to leave on your grave, but I sold my arm-ring to the drug dealer,” Hvitserk ended his speech sadly and Amma quickly started rummaging in her bag. She quietly walked to Hvitserk and put her small hand on his strong shoulder. He looked at her sadly and she took his hand and put something shining into it. “What is that?” he asked and looked at her in disbelieve. “It’s your arm-ring, my love. I bought it back from the drug dealer. One night I noticed that you no are longer wearing it and I asked you about it. You told me, that you sold it and I went back there and bought it back from that dirty scumbag. I thought that you would like it back one day,” she said softly and gave him a small sad smile.  Hvitserk gaped at her, lost for words, feeling another wave of strong love for this little woman. He kissed her hand lovingly, unable to say anything, overwhelmed by his love for her and great sadness of losing his beloved brother.

1 year later

Hvitserk was coming back from one of the successful raids in East Anglia. After Ivar’s funeral he and Amma managed to escape from Alfred and they found safe haven in small kingdom whose king was Ragnar’s old ally and he welcomed his son with open arms. Hvitserk never wanted to be king and rule over lands or to be the most famous Viking who ever lived like Ivar. He wanted to find new lands like Björn when he was younger, but it didn’t interest him anymore. He didn’t want to be a farmer and settler like Ubbe. He wanted a simple Viking life. He wanted to raid, enjoy the rush of a battle, defeat his enemies, gain new lands for his king and after the successful raid go back to his home and find a loving woman inside, waiting for his arrival. He opened the wooden door of his house and smiled happily when Amma jump on her feet, rushing to him as fast as the huge belly allowed her to. “Hello, my love. How was the raid?” she asked him after she welcomed him with a long tender kiss. “Successful, the slaves will bring my share tomorrow. But tell me, how is my little boy doing?” he asked lovingly and gently stroked her belly. “He was a good little boy, but he is like his father, always hungry. I ate almost everything I found here,” she pouted and Hvitserk chuckled happily. “Ok, give me few minutes and I will get you more food from the market,” he winked at her, ready to rush out and buy some food and quickly return back home to her. “No need to rush, my love. Me and little Ivar will wait for you here,” she said softly and he looked at her surprised. “You want to name him Ivar?” he asked her with trembling voice, clearly moved by her suggestion. “If you agree, it would be an honor for our son to be named after his fearless, strong, intelligent uncle, who meant so much for his father,” she said and Hvitserk quickly walked to her and kissed her lovingly, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you so much Amma,” he confessed. “I love you too, my sweet Hvitserk,” she smiled happily and her stomach made a loud noise. “Alright, alright, I am going for the food, don’t worry son,” Hvitserk chuckled and left the cabin, happier than any of his family members were in long decades.

[little-diable]

That way Part 2 - Luke Hemmings (angst)

Part 2 to “that way”, to the lyrics of “tear myself apart” by Tate McRae, enjoy my loves. xxx 

Warning: heartbreak

So it goes, my summer rose Is cut and thrown away Petals fall and you don't call For days and days and days

She didn’t expect him to come after her, didn’t expect him to tell her that he didn’t mean it like that and that he was sorry, but she did expect him to at least call or text her. After driving away from Ashtons house, with tears streaming down her face, she promised herself and her heart, that she’d erase the name “Luke Hemmings” from her mind. 

That was two weeks ago, of course she didn’t manage to forget the tall, handsome, blue eyed boy, the boy that crushed her heart in his hands once again. The boys tried to take her mind off of the heartbreak, they watched movies with her, took her to the beach, but as much as she appreciated their effort, (y/n) slowly began to distance herself. Maybe if she kept some distance to the boys, she’d be able to move on.   

You say, you say it's not my fault You say nothing at all

“(Y/n)?”, Ashton was standing in front of her apartment door, his hands were getting sweaty, a nervous look on his face, he was concerned about his best friend, he didn’t like that she tried to cut him and the boys out of her life. As she opened the door, he momentarily forgot how to breath, she looked tired, exhausted, “what are you doing here Ashton?”, (y/n) asked as she wiped some of the sweat, that was glistering on her forehead, away with the back of her hand.   

He walked into her living room, “what happened to your furniture?”, his eyebrows furrowed together as he took a look around, most of her stuff was gone, just now he realized the moving boxes that were placed all around the room. “I - uhm.”, a deep sigh left her lips, (y/n) sat down on the sofa, “I’m moving.”, her eyes were focused on her hands, she couldn’t look him in the eyes, the feeling of betrayal ran through her veins. A humorless laugh escaped him as he took her hands in his, “just because of Luke?”, way too many emotions overcame him, sadness, anger, confusion. 

Can you see my hands shake? Heart is now an earthquake I'm left alone to tear myself apart

“No, not only because of Luke, but I think it’s time for me to move on, I’ll spend some time with my friends in Europe, explore some new places, stuff like that.”, (y/n) didn’t like the way her voice sounded so unsure, a shaky breath left her as she watched Ashton rise from the sofa. “When are you leaving?”, he ran a hand over his face, tears were blurring his vision, he didn’t want her to leave, (y/n) was like his sister, “on Monday.”.   

Ashton couldn’t be around her any longer, he felt the tears leaving his eyes as he walked to his car. As he drove towards Lukes beach house, he called Calum and Michael, “she’s leaving.”, hiccups left him as he parked his car. “What?”, both of them weren’t quite sure, what he was talking about, “(y/n), she’s moving away. She leaves on Monday.”, sobs wracked through him, his hands tightly clutched the steering wheel, Luke was his only hope. 

You make it look so easy Turn around and leave me I'm left alone to tear myself apart To tear myself apart

“Are you crying?”, Luke asked as Ashton entered his house, sunglasses hid Lukes tired eyes, as much as he tried to deny it, he knew that was madly in love with (y/n), he hated himself for treating her like that. “She’s leaving and it’s your fucking fault. Just because you couldn’t tell her what you’re feeling, she’s leaving us. I am losing my best friend just because of you, you asshole.”, Ashtons finger was pressed into Lukes chest, an angry expression washed over his tear stained face, Luke bit his lip, of course he was talking  about (y/n).  

“Ash, I- what do you want me to say?”, he didn’t know what to tell him, he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about her leaving, but the way his heart was breaking apart was enough to make him feel like shit. “Are you for real right now? I just told you, that the girl you’re in love with, is about to leave us and you have the audacity to tell me, you don’t know what to say?“, Ashtons face was dark red by now, while Luke stood in front of him with an emotionless expression on his face, “when?”, Luke whispered as he looked into Ashtons eyes. “Monday.”, Ashton watched Luke put on a pair of vans, phone tightly clutched in his hands as he looked for his car keys. “I’ll talk to her.”, was the only thing he said as he ran towards his black Range Rover. 

No concern for what you've burned You set yourself ablaze What survives are sharpened knifes That go right through the bone

As her eyes found Luke blue ones, she tried to close the door on him, a silent “no” leaving her mouth, but he was stronger than her, pushed past her, walked straight towards her empty kitchen. “Please, leave Lukas.”, she sighed as she watched him pace around the tiny room, he looked distressed, “Is it because of me?”, his big hands were placed against the marble top of the kitchen island. “Don’t think so highly of yourself, you breaking my heart once again, wouldn’t be enough to make me leave.”, (y/n) scoffed as she walked past him, she couldn’t endure being in the same room as him any longer. 

Luke grasped her wrist and pulled her flush against his chest, his head dipped down and he pressed a passionate kiss onto her lips, it took her a moment to react, as much as she wanted to kiss him back, she knew that this had to stop. (Y/n) ripped herself away from him and slapped him, his head fell to the side, the noise hallowed through the room. His jaw was clenched, slowly he turned towards her, tears were streaming down the sides of her face, her body was trembling, “This is getting old Luke, please leave, we are done here.”.

You say, you say its not my fault You say nothing at all

“So you’re just running away? Hiding away from your problems?”, his voice was emotionless, a storm raged inside him, his nails were pressing into the thin skin of his hand, almost drawing some blood. Her back was turned towards him, (y/n) tightly gripped the door handle, her knuckles were turning white, “take care of yourself Lukas.”, (y/n) walked out of the room, towards her bedroom, where she finally broke down, sobs left her mouth as she heard Luke slam her front door shut. 

As she sat on the bedroom floor, back pressed against the door, memories ran through her mind, the first time she met Luke, the first time she felt shivers run up her spine as he touched her, the first time they kissed and the first time she cried in Ashtons arms about him breaking her heart for the first time. It was time to move on, time to leave Luke Hemmings behind.  

Can you see my hands shake? Heart is now an earthquake I'm left alone to tear myself apart

Ashton, Calum and Michael were driving her to the airport, an awkward silence hung in the air, her head was placed against the window, tears left her eyes as she felt Michael grasp her hands, he placed a kiss onto the back of her hand, “I’m sorry (y/n).”, he whispered against her skin, a sad smile on his lips as his eyes were focused on her tear stained face, “Don’t be Mikey.”. 

“Please call us sometimes, send us pictures, keep us posted okay?”, Calum pulled her against his chest, the smell of his aftershave made her feel like home, her heart was breaking apart as she pulled away from him, (y/n) couldn’t speak, it felt as if the air was slowly leaving her lungs, her heart was rapidly beating against her ribs. Ashton pressed a kiss onto her forehead, “Take care of yourself, okay?.”

You make it look so easy Turn around and leave me I'm left alone to tear myself apart To tear myself apart

She wouldn’t stop shaking as she walked away from her friends, (y/n) couldn’t look backwards, couldn’t endure watching them cry, she tightly clutched her bag in her hands, even though it felt wrong to leave her friends behind, she knew that it was the only way to mend her broken heart together once again. 

As she walked towards her gate she felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her black jeans, “I’m begging you (y/n), please don’t leave.”, Luke had texted her, a sob wracked through her as she looked at her background picture, the smirk on Lukes face brought a sad smile onto her lips, (y/n) desperately tried to wipe away the tears as she switched off her phone. 

Can you see my hands shake? Heart is now an earthquake I'm left alone to tear myself apart You make it look so easy Turn around and leave me I'm left alone to tear myself apart To tear myself apart

[sp00kworm]

A Den of Iniquity (Part 3)

Pairing: Dracula/Count Dracula/Vlad Tepes x Female Reader

Warnings: Death, Murder, Blood, Gore, Injuries, Violence, Vomiting and Adult content. 

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Part 1     Part 2      Part 4    Part 5 

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A week. He had one week to discover how to consume human food. One week to try and be human. Vlad turned his gaze from the mirror and thrust the covering back over it, hiding the glass from his sight. He didn’t wish to see the smog covered beast he was underneath his trickery. The mirror shuddered under the sheet but didn’t crack. The vampire grazed his fingers along the moustache on his top lip and wondered just what this face looked like. True, he had seen photos of himself, slapped across most of his company’s websites, but it wasn’t the same. The image seemed foreign to him. A reflection of a face that wasn’t his own. At least, not anymore. He looked at the painting hung over his fireplace and dusted dirt from his shoulder as he gazed upwards, admiring the strong face he knew as his own. The sword he held in the painting was positioned below it, shined yet in need of another covering of oil and care. Gently, he took the great blade from the wall and swung it in an arc before rotating it over his hand and turning to thrust it at an invisible foe. His blood sang with the vibration of the blade through the air. Dracula took the blade to his desk and sat in the great chair, a cloth in hand as he pondered on what he could do to remedy the hole he had dug himself into.

 The internet yielded no results. Therapy websites for eating disorders or calorie planning for dieting. It wasn’t the answer. A gastric bypass. Stomach removal. Eating with certain diseases. Intolerances. All the while, he shined the blade he had broken the cross with, looking down to avoid the sharpened edges. Dracula admired the blade in the light, satisfied with the shine as he leaned to look at his monitor. Nothing. Modern medicine had no answers. He grumbled as he stood from his chair and replaced the blade in its holder. It shone better in the light. Dracula moved back to his desk and rapped his nails along the wood in thought. Once, twice, and a third and final time as he pondered on what he could do to solve his issue. The only person he had ever encountered that knew anything about his curse was Professor Abraham Van Helsing, and that man had wanted him and his brood wiped out from history. He had, however, lived. His ancestors were somewhere out there. Out of curiosity, he put the name into his search engine and watched thousands of results come up. The name, however, was not common. Van Helsing was a small lineage even now, and he opened various social medias, looking for any relative that could be close. There had to be a remnant of the line somewhere in the UK. Abraham was a Professor in London.

 There was a link, some way into the third page of results.

‘Doctor disgraced. Drinking problems hit the highest mind in Pathology.’

Dark eyes narrowed at the news article and the vampire opened it with interest, leaned back in his chair as he read. His eyebrows raised and a smile curled on his lips before he started to chuckle. A Van Helsing worked in London. Disgraced in medicine at the University College Hospital. A former teacher as well. With another click, he was searching for more. Profiles and odd links on profiles. Eventually, he gazed at her name with red, burning eyes.

Dr Anne Van Helsing.

The vampire grinned, fangs sliding from his gums as he stood from his chair, huffing with beastly excitement as he rushed to get changed for the evening ahead.

 Van Helsing blood was a stench he would never forget. The woman was easy enough to track down once he had looked up her address. She was still half practicing, apparently sober now for a year. He moved under the door of the shop as vapour, green and curling in on itself. Anne lived beneath the occult store, in the basement. Vlad assumed that she conversed with the owner and fed him information in exchange for a cheap rent. The alarm system blinked in the corner, the camera lens stagnant, watching. He moved up the wall and curled over the top of the camera. Electricity buzzed inside before it fried with a snap. The vampire moved under the door to the stairs and floated along the old wood, sensing his surroundings as he drifted lower and lower, along the old stairs and towards the smell of the vampire slayer he knew so well. The green smog slid through her door and coalesced into a rolling shape of a man.

 The vampire hunter was laid in her armchair, snoring softly across from a buzzing television screen.  It was a late-night reality show rerun. The smoke curled from his hands as they formed, and the vampire, rippling with vapour, curled his gloved hand over her head, watching and waiting for her to wake and grapple him for a fight. He hissed and waited. Slowly, he leaned down towards the woman’s greying blond hair and snarled. The scent of whiskey hit his nose. She was inebriated with alcohol. The vampire’s red eyes caught sight of the bottle in front of her on the coffee table. She wouldn’t be awake for a while. Vlad’s fingers recoiled as he turned on his heels and looked around her small, basement flat. The room was decorated with hard wood and mismatched old rugs. It was dusty yet lived in, like she forgot to clean. Dracula looked at the walls as a barely formed human figure of smoke, floating before he dispelled himself to look for anything he could use. The book. Van Helsing’s notebook. His mist curled around the rugs before coiling around the coffee table legs. There was a great welsh dresser, full of old pottery, the bottom lined with books, in the corner. He rushed towards it, sending a brisk breeze over Anne. The vampire formed in front of the books, a swirling storm of green mist. There was one book, the spine leather, old and self-bound. Misty fingers reached for the spine, tugging it free. The pages of the book fell open under a gale of wind and Dracula hissed from within the storm.

 A burning sensation laced through the fog.

“Beast.” Anne slurred from her chair as she fumbled along her coffee table again, trying to find something among the papers. The burning emanated from where his flesh was ripped from the fog. A blessed blade seared in the dead flesh of his foot and Dracula howled, the walls shaking with the noise.

“Vampire slayer!” He snarled as he reached to drag the hilt of the dagger free, his thick, dead blood splattering along Anne’s wooden floor, “I should have ended your line when I had the chance!” He hissed in Romanian as his claws snatched the book, scarlet eyes burning in the black fog as he took three steps back, his floating hair already dissipating out of the window.

“You should be dead!” She slurred as she took the end of the holy blade in her hand and threw it towards him. This time he was ready, and the mist created a hole before swallowing in on itself and bursting up towards the window. Anne cursed as she tripped over the rug, left alone in her small basement as the creature escaped with the notes her ancestor had made when the beast was supposedly destroyed, so long ago.

“Shit.” Anne howled as she rushed to retrieve the holy dagger from her wall. She peered up at the clouded sky in her pyjamas, cursing violently as the vampire escaped. With a thump, she closed the window and reached for the whiskey she had left on the coffee table.

 Back in his own home, Dracula peered at the book in his hands, nails trailing over the old cover. The woman in his lap whined, French manicured nails squeaking over the leather of his trousers. With a single finger under her chin, he tilted her head upwards, pulling her lips away from the inside of his thigh. She whined again, pressing herself against his cold skin, her mouth open and neck bleeding from the first bite. The girl was barely into her twenties, yet she was easy pickings, her brain was too addled with alcohol to resist the mild glamour he had applied. She’d even walked out of another man’s arms, just to crawl into his own. The book detailed many things. Autopsies on other vampires, creatures of his brood from when Abraham was young. He looked at their entries and peered at the drawings as the woman climbed into his lap again, pressing her nose under his chin. He petted the side of her cheek as he read the notes slowly, struggling to understand the medical terms.

‘Dead insides. Heart was dead for longer than is conceivable. Putrefied organs. High salt content in tissue samples. Stomach empty of acid.’

Nothing told him about how he could change these things.

 Subject: Dracula, former alias Vlad of the Order of the Dragon.

 His own autopsy. It seemed Abraham had even analysed his corpse, drawing the body and decapitated head with gruesome detail. There was pages and pages of notes, but no answers. He read the final line with a sneer.

‘Subject laid to rest by Mrs Harker. Tomb sealed before leaving.’

Van Helsing had not expected his revival in any case. Dracula watched the woman in his lap go bleary eyed and whine once more. He took her by the hair and pushed the book onto his desk before exposing her neck and biting. Her cartilage crunched under his jaw and she shouted in pain before melting against his front. Two pints maximum. That was all he could take before she would be close to death. He counted the mouthfuls between hungry snarls before wrenching himself from her neck. Her eyelids closed as her breathing went shallow. The vampire released her head and wiped at his mouth, licking the blood from his fingers with another dark purr. Carefully he arranged her in his arms and stood with her. Dracula deposited her in the guest bedroom, slipping her clothes from her body before he looked at the holes in her neck and leaned down to lick them clean. They would be healed in a day, but he hid the area with bruises. She would believe something else entirely had happened.

 He left her with a brunch bar and water on her bedside table. The vampire didn’t care about her so long as there wasn’t a trace of her by morning. It was smart not to kill at every chance he got. He closed the door and listened to the old chimes of the grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs. It was into the early hours of the morning. He glanced at the smart phone in his hand and the time before heading back to his office and closing the book with a snap. He was dead. Putrefied inside. Salt and dead flesh. He opened the drawer of his desk and chucked the book inside it, kicking it shut with his foot as he looked out of the window. A lone cat strayed across his lawn, tail curled in the air before it sat in the grass and looked at him. He hissed around it, voice echoing in the darkness as the cat hissed back at the window. Dracula spat, thumping at the window, fangs slick with spit and blood. The cat watched him, bristling, but ran from his lawn, down the drive and towards the main road. Dracula watched it leave before closing the curtains and going back to his computer. He slumped back in the chair before opening recipes for the coming date he had planned. Perhaps something raw?

 You knocked on the door of Vladimir’s home, running your hands over your outfit worriedly. Why you were worried, you didn’t know. This was professional. You reminded yourself of that as the man answered the door with a smile, his pale face looking out from an inside lit up by soft, warm white light. There were candles in great, intricate candelabras, burning in the entry hall.

“Welcome to my home.” Vladimir pulled open the door wide to reveal the inside of his home and himself. He was dressed smartly, a silver suit lined with blue, his hair down, resting on his wide shoulders.

“I thought this was just a professional affair, Vlad.” You moved into the threshold with a shake of your head at the elaborate setting of his home. The door clicked shut behind you, and Vladimir chuckled at your concern.

He slid your coat from your shoulders gently, “I am a host before everything, my dear. My home is my pride. I enjoy impressing.”

You watched him hang your coat on the hook, “You mean you enjoy gloating and showing off.” You snarked with a smile as Vlad pressed a gentle hand to your back, steering you towards the dining room.

“Something of that ilk, yes.” Vlad opened the door to the dining room and your mouth opened in awe at the warm candlelight from the extravagant candlestick in the middle of the old wooden table. That, itself, was shone to perfection with wax. The cutlery was laid out perfectly alongside the placemats and even the tablecloth was ironed. It was perfect.

 “Something tells me this really isn’t just a work catchup, Vladimir.” You looked down at yourself and took a deep breath, “I feel like this is crossing a line that…”

His hands wrapped around your bare shoulders, squeezing, comforting as he hushed you, “Perhaps I have…interest in you, yes, but it is a desire to know more about you. I hold no lecherous desires. I have no ill intentions. I only wish to know you.” He moved around to face you, “I promise you.”

Something about his voice was soothing as he held onto your shoulders, his dark eyes bright with happiness.

Carefully, you plucked Vladimir’s hands from your shoulders, “Fine. I’ll accept it, for now.” You pointed to the table, “And because I’m guessing you have an insane spread planned for this evening.”

Vladimir’s fingers curled back into his palms before he pulled you a chair out at the table, “Oh it is a spectacular menu.” He purred as you sat yourself at the circular table. It was made for two people to dine at. Intimate and close among other things. The rest of the dinning room was cleared, the normal, full length table, pushed to the side at the back, and the chairs stacked out of sight underneath sheets.

 “So, what’s for dinner then?” You asked as you watched Vladimir pour you a drink of the red wine he purchased from your shop. He avoided his own glass and sat down across from you, “You don’t drink?”

Vladimir shook his head, his dark hair flopping over his shoulders, “No. I do not drink. It does not sit well.” He patted his tummy before gesturing in the air with a smile, “Drink. Be merry. I will see to dinner. Or, well, the staff will.” A waiter waved from the doorway, the towel over his arm wafting as he disappeared back into the other room, towards the kitchen.

“You really hired staff for one night?” You asked, laughing at the absurdity of it all, “Are you wanting to flash your cash and win me over, Mister Székely?”

Vladimir hummed, “Hardly. I don’t need to announce my wealth to you. If anything, that will make you less likely to entertain my advances.” He explained.

Taking a sip of your drink, you looked at him over the glass, “And you think you’ve figured out how to win me over?”

Vladimir rolled his shoulders, “I have no idea how, my dear.” He confessed as the waiter returned with a large silver platter, rested on one hand, “Ah, dinner is served.” He clapped his hands excitedly as the waiter laid a starter before the two of you.

 The starter was delicious, the food of a quality you hadn’t tasted in a long time, not since your last expensive birthday get together. You pushed the plate forwards a little with a sigh of content.

Vladimir had poked at his food, eating just over half.

“That was delicious…Aren’t you hungry?” You pointed a finger at his plate, “Maybe you picked the wrong chef?” You teased as he placed his fork and knife in the middle of the plate.

Vladimir smiled cryptically, “It is very rich. My stomach is not good at coping with such things.” He waved his hand, “I have been this way since I was a child.”

“Ah.” You nodded, “I’m sorry for making fun.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I have taken no offence.” He was quiet as the waiter took the plates away from you both after refilling your wine.

After a moment, you took a sip of your drink and changed the conversation, “So, Vlad, where do you come from? You didn’t give that information on your website.”

 Dracula felt a sense of déjà vu at the question. Time seemed to shift as he saw Mina sitting before him, laughing and perched like a lady on the edge of her chair. It came and went. He smiled at the memory of it before clearing his throat.

 Vladimir spread his hands, “I come from a town, deep in the Carpathian Mountains. It was once a stronghold during the fight against the Persians, many years ago. There are legends, that beyond the forest and in the mountains, that a secret order was housed. Dracula, Vlad Tepes, or whatever they call him, he was part of this order to defend the church against the onslaught. A knight of the Order of Dracul.” He noticed your confusion, “The Order of the Dragon, in English. My hometown was bred on the legends, so here I am, feeding the West them as well.” He chuckled before fixing you with a heavy gaze.

“So, you’re from where he originally lived?” You asked curiously.

“Ah, no, but nearby. Close enough for the legends to be very relevant…” He made a cross with his fingers, “And for the locals to be very superstitious.” He laughed again before you frowned, and his laughter died away.

“Is it pretty?” You asked as you took another drink, “Aren’t the mountains some of the only untouched lands in Europe?”

“Yes. The woods are fresh with clean air, expansive and wide. There is a river. A great one. In English it is called, River Princess, or the Princess River. The tears of a beautiful princess filled it from bank to bank.” His fingers trailed along the wood, “Or so the stories go.”

“I think it would be hard to cry that much…” You smiled behind your glass, “But those are wonderful stories. I would love to hear more.”

 The beast inside whined at the pain as he began to tell the story of the knight and his princess, the food rotting his insides.

 “Thank you for having me this evening.” You paused at the doorstep to his home, watching the man smile from inside, still looking you in the eye, “I…I was sceptical, but I enjoyed it immensely.”

“I am glad.” Vladimir drawled, “I would like to do this again, if I have not scared you away?” He asked as he took your hand, placing a kiss on the back of it.

Gently, you took your hand back and smiled, “I would love to.” You took out your phone and snatched his from his fancy trousers, unlocking it before you tapped your phone number into his contacts, “So we can arrange another.” You offered before hearing the toot of the taxi’s horn, “Goodbye, Vladimir. Have a good night.”

He caught your wrist before you could escape and leaned forwards. Your breath caught in expectation of a kiss. It never came, but he pressed his lips to the inside of your wrist.

“Good evening. Sleep well.” He whispered before he released you to your taxi. You touched the spot on your wrist as you waked down the drive. The door to his home closed behind you as you made it to the car, and you gave one last look at the house before ducking inside the taxi and telling the driver your home address.

 Agony. The beast howled inside but he didn’t make a noise. Dracula’s mouth hung open, spittle clinging between vicious, giant fangs, as he clawed at his stomach. His eyes bled to red, black pupils going wide as he hid his face, dismissing the staff, bidding them to leave as he crawled upstairs to his bedroom. The wooden door shuck as he slammed it closed, dragging his clothes free in pain as his stomach muscles seared. Desperately, he pushed his fingers into his mouth to silence his own agony as he fitted on the floor, his muscles burning as claws ripped from his feet and scratched great lines in his floor. Fur rippled over his back as everything clenched in burning ripples of pain. Dracula heard the door close with a scared ‘good night’. He listened to the staff walk down the drive before he began to howl. Pain seared up his stomach as he morphed into a wolfish beast, snarling and spitting against the wood. The vampire limped to his window, unlocking it before he pulled himself out, his head twisting as he looked up at the moon. Pain curled in his guts again as he managed to jump from the window and to the floor. Dracula landed in the grass with an ungraceful thud. Snarling, and starving, the vampire pulled himself up enough to move, crawling towards the little piece of woodlands that separated his home from the park.

 The University College Hospital was bright with the activity of Doctors and patients. Dracula didn’t see nor hear the bustling activity as he snarled in the back of the hospital, his fangs embedded in a young nurse. She’d been out on her break, eating a sandwich with her headphones stuffed in her ears. The vampire grasped her in the bushes, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of blood to no avail. His insides still churned and seared with pain with the meal. It was agony. Like being stabbed with holy blades. The red-hot knife twisted in his guts as he dropped the woman. The burning need to drink continued to cripple his throat. Dragging himself along the grass he felt the blood drip past his lips before his stomach lurched and the blood came back up in a spray of curdled red goo. The grass hung under the weight of the blood and Dracula writhed for a moment. He was blinded by his pain.

“Jesus Christ.” A man walked closer with a cigarette hanging from his lips, “I’m…Doctor Seward. Are you quite alright?” A young doctor approached him with a pale face, looking at the gore with horror in his eyes.

Dracula felt a ripple of familiarity about the man as he gazed at the black hair and narrow face, “Van Helsing.” He growled as he forced himself to appear human in the man’s eyes, slicing his own stomach with his nails before the doctor could see.

“My God. Of course, this has something to do with that blasted woman.” Dr Seward looked at his stomach before Dracula snatched his cheeks in his hand, “Calm down. I’ll…”

 The vampire pressed his fingers to the man’s cheek bones and watched him grow complacent, his eyes unfocused as he gazed into the red eyes of Dracula.

“Take me to Van Helsing.” He commanded.

Dr Seward’s eyes went cloudy as he nodded and awkwardly helped the vampire to his feet, taking a lot of his weight. No one came close to the wolf man and the doctor as he helped Dracula along the road around the back of the hospital, towards a huge set of iron doors, angled into the ground, leading to a basement underneath the hospital. Dr Seward pulled a ring of keys from his belt, finding the one to unlock the shutter doors before he threw them open. He shouldered Dracula’s weight once more as they shakily descended into the basement. The air grew colder and staler as they reached the bottom of the concrete stairs. Seward left him propped against the sterile wall as he rushed to close and lock the doors again behind them. Dracula took a breath of air, rolling the smell of death over his palette as Seward returned and began to drag him down the hallway. They passed three rooms labelled with ‘cold storage’ and the vampire spewed blood from his mouth again, spraying the concrete floor with goo as Seward dragged him towards a room that stank of congealed blood and bleach.

 “Anne!” Seward shouted as he opened the door, still in a haze, “He asked for you.”

Anne Van Helsing looked up from her work on the corpse with a shocked face, her greying hair in a frizz around her head as she dropped her glasses from her nose in shock, “Jesus Christ, Seward!” She cursed as he dropped the vampire to the floor. Her bright, intense eyes looked at the wolfish vampire in his grasp.

“Do not see me.” He hissed and Seward’s face melted into confusion before he walked, like a zombie, to the door, and disappeared down the hallway towards the hospital. Dracula felt her gaze grow cold as he fought to pull himself up, using the metal table as a prop to keep himself upright.

Anne pulled a blade from her leg, “Tell me why I shouldn’t fucking kill you now.” She spat as she held the blade towards him.

The vampire looked at her, his eyes rolling as he smelt the air. She was stone cold sober, her hands shaking around the blade with withdrawal.

“Your grandfather tried it, Van Helsing, and look what it did to me.” He hissed, claws slamming through the metal of the table as the vampire killer held her blade to his chest, “I lived. My head was severed yet I remain…undead.” He wrenched his fingers from the metal and watched her. She levelled the vampire with a stare, “Would you not like to understand, Anne? Would you not like to understand the secrets of the dark?”

 Anne took the blade from his chest, “You are vermin.” She conceded as she tucked the blade into her boot again, “I will find a way to kill you, Dracula.”

“You can try, Van Helsing.” He hissed as he crawled up the table, “But I will gut you like I should have done Abraham.”

“You’re in no state to do anything.” Anne pulled him up on the table, gloves slick with blood as she wrestled him upright and reached for a bottle of heavy syrup. It smelt foul. The vampire retched as it was brought towards him. Anne wrestled him backwards , snapping a scalpel through his hand to hold him still and she held his maw open and poured the thick syrup into his mouth, “Ipecac syrup works on animals, so it should work on you. You’ll be vomiting for a long time.” She pressed his mouth closed under his chin and pushed hard against his head to keep him from spitting anything out.

“What is that…” The vampire gipped, “Poison…”

“In about…” Anne looked at her watch under her glove with a mild amount of interest, “Twenty minutes, you’ll be vomiting your guts up... Figuratively that is.” She sat back in her stool and watched spit drip uncontrollably from his mouth as he flipped onto his stomach and wretched, his abdomen clenching and rippling as the vampire heaved, “I find it surprising that this works on vampires.” She observed as he heaved uncontrollably on the body table. The Van Helsing woman began to count as the vampire heaved and gagged, the noise growing more intense until he finally gave in and spewed out a great gush of red and black. Anne stepped back as he sprayed the table and floor with blood, and continued into another burst of thick, black sludge like vomit. She covered her nose as a thick, mucus membrane slipped past his teeth and onto the floor.

“Fucking hell.” Anne whistled as she walked over to the vampire, a pair of tweezers in hand, “I didn’t expect you to actually…throw up your stomach lining.” She plucked the mucus from the mess of black goo and blood curiously before looking at the vampire.

 “Vile woman.” Dracula spat as he wrenched himself from the floor, “Cursed line of…” He collapsed against the table with a bubble of blood in his mouth.

“Cursed line of god worshippers? Please, vampire, I’ve heard it before.” Anne moved away from him, leaving him heaving on the table as she went to collect something. She returned a few minutes later with a bag of red liquid in her hand, “Blood.” She tossed it onto the table, barely defrosted and cold, “You need it.” She tossed another on top of it, “For good measure.”

Dracula looked at the blood next to his head with red eyes, “Foul.” He commented.

Anne rolled her eyes, “Six hundred years old and you’re still a baby.” She walked over, her glasses perched on the end of her nose and stuck a bloodied scalpel into the edge of each.

The beast snarled before pushing the plastic edges into his mouth and drinking, gulping the bags with gusto as Anne watched him.

“You are a monster, Count Dracula…” She flipped the table he was laid on as his eyelids grew heavy, pushing him towards the wall, the dry blood bags falling from his lips with the movement, “It’s time you started acting like it. Nothing can reverse damnation. I suggest you remember that when you tear her from her life, just like all your other victims.” Anne leaned over the vampire with a dark look.

 Dracula snarled and banged at the table as she turned her hip and slammed the trolley into the cold locker. The vampire felt his eyelids grow heavy as he howled at her worlds, the will to fight leaving his body as the cold set into his dead flesh.

 Anne looked at the cold locker as she pulled the gloves from her hands, binning them before washing her hands and finding the packet of cigarettes Seward had dropped on his way out. She walked towards the lift and pulled a cigarette free with three nervous taps to the packet. When she reached the smoking area she dared to exhale, her hands shaking as she wished for the whiskey bottle to take the edge off.

 The plush fur of a bear was soft underneath his feet as he dragged the body behind him. The woman screamed as he pulled her by her hair, crying to God, begging to be released instead of being killed. He couldn’t particularly hear her cries as he crawled along the stone, looking around his own castle, heading towards the great cross. The cross was rotting, the metal rusted and the gash still bleeding drips of blood. The woman. The faceless woman was sat underneath it, her lace covered fingers moving up to caress the hole, blood dripping down her wrists. He drew himself up onto two legs before speaking.

“I have brought you food.” His mouth was not his own as he wrenched the young girl forwards. Listening to her cries, she turned to look at the human. She descended the two steps in a roll of silk and came close to him before her veiled face turned to the girl. Bloodied, lace covered fingers moved to snatch her by her cheeks, stopping her noise before the veil shimmered. She reached to pull the bottom upwards and Dracula felt his chest heave in expectation. A mouth appeared but she tucked the lacing tight behind her head, hiding the rest of her features as a mouth full of fangs opened in her face.

 The girl screamed as the faceless woman tore into her neck, gulping blood before reaching for his own face, tugging his wolfish snout down before she kissed him, blood pouring past his own lips. Dracula felt himself snarl with excitement, claws dragging over the silk, tugging, and tearing but getting nowhere through the fabric. She continued to feed before offering him another, bloody, kiss. Dracula raked his own claws over the girl’s throat and watched her gag as blood spurted from her. He dropped the body to the floor and pulled the faceless phantom forwards by her hips. Blood squelched under his feet before he was pushed onto his back, the black silk following him as the green snake hissed behind her, dipping from under her skirts to eye him with one, black eye. He felt his blood sing as she mounted his hips, teeth snapping as he dragged at the black silk again, revealing no skin to himself even as he tried to pull it upwards. His own fangs grazed her throat before the snake hissed and snapped around his neck, pulling its coils tight. Bones creaked in his neck as the phantom over him leaned down to lick along his furry chest.

“Please.” He begged before the snake struck, fangs digging deep into his dead flesh. The beast howled, the stone shaking, as he felt his legs go numb. Her face disappeared as soon as she tore the veil free.

 The vampire awoke with a snarl, claws snapping forwards to snatch at the veil that was no longer there. His legs ached, and so did the throbbing erection between them. Huffing, he managed to open his eyes enough to watch icy air curl around him.

“Van Helsing.” He hissed as he pulled himself up, shaking ice from the fur on his shoulders and back, cracking the bones as he attempted to shift back. He was still too weak, and the vampire collapsed from the table with a grunt.

“What the fuck…What the fuck?” A worried man whittled outside before the key clunked in the door. The vampire slinked back towards the shadows as the door opened, “Where the fuck did the body go?” He reached to tug at his hair as he spotted the empty blood bags on the floor, “Jesus Christ someone’s stolen it.” He panicked until the vampire launched himself from the shadows, fangs tearing open the man’s throat. Dracula gave a great hiss of relief as the hot blood poured into his icy gullet.

 He made sure to leave a mess for Van Helsing to clear up before he smashed his way out of the basement and into the new evening.

[buckys-other-punk]

Hurt (Jealous Part 7)

Bucky x Reader, (slight) Steve x Reader

Warnings: angst, PTSD reader (kinda...but not really), violence, weapons (knives and guns), blood, dead bodies, minor panic attack, and cuss words

Word Count: 3K (w/o lyrics)

Song inspiration: “Hurt” by Johnny Cash (this is gonna be a bit depressing)

A/N: @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​ this is my surprise for you Ash lol You’ve waiting long and patiently for this series to return and here it is!❤️ But WOW its been a while (holy shit! almost 2 years nows!?) since I wrote this series huh? Well it's back and still angsty as ever…Anyways let me know if you wanna be tagged or if I accidentally forgot to tag you lol. Like always this is unedited and has minor mistakes so please don’t mind them. Feedback is always appreciated!

Series Tags: @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @sebtheromanianprince​ @aquabrie @amour-quinn​ @anbrax5553 @pdy93 @chrys-1029 @httpmcrvel @sarahp879​ @who-the-hell-is-sebastianstan @princess76179​

Crackhead fam: @kitkatd7​ @mr-skyline-r34​ @chaoticpete​ @msgreenverse​ @cheeky-foxx @hermionesalvatore84 @babygurlbarnes

^lemme know if you wanna be on or off this tag^

Series Masterlist Here

 ~Previously~

*A week later back at the Avengers Tower*

There was something off about (Y/N) and everyone notice this. She kept to herself more than usual. Tony had another mission for Bucky and Steve. The boys wanted you to tag along, to get you out of the tower and doing your usual routine. They both walked to where your room that was moved closer to the lab so Bruce can keep a close eye on you. As they drew near Bucky knocked on the door and entered. You were sitting in the corner of the room holding your most prized possessions, weapons, a gun and knife. You looked up at the two with terror. Screaming telling them something is wrong on the inside, but you were so scared so your facial expression said you were fine.

I hurt myself today

see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that's real

The needle tears a hole

The old familiar sting

Try to kill it all away

But I remember everything

The two men stared at you as you hesitantly stood up, gathering you belongings for the mission. Avoiding both of their gazes you started packing your clothes for the mission not even know what the mission is about.

“(Y/N), you don’t have to go on this mission if you don’t want to.” Steve said with concern.

You shook your head and said with a smile, “It’s fine Steve. I think I can manage.” Both men looked at one another and shrugged. Steve exited the room while Bucky stayed behind.

“(Y/N).” he said softly looking at you. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m fine Bucky.” you said sternly at him. “Can you please leave so I can finish packing without any distractions.”

“Alright.” he sighed walking towards the door. “Tony said we leave at nightfall.” he added exiting the door. You sighed, stared at the door and started to gather your belongings.

What have I become

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know goes away

In the end

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

*Time Skip*

“Alright, Stark suggests that we split up for this mission.” Steve says to you and Bucky as you all place your belongings in the penthouse Tony bought. “They have an underground maze that has these different rooms and chambers. Tony also wants each of us to get coordinates of the people who are associated with Hydra.” he added loading up his gun.

Bucky paused, sharpening his knife and asked, “Wait, why do we need to split up if we’re looking for the same thing?” You looked towards Steve with the same questioned look Bucky had on his face.

“Right, I asked Tony the same thing and he said that Hydra scattered the information in different computers to secure the safety of those people.” Steve answered putting his gun away and picking up his shield. He looked up at you and Bucky taking a slight note of how distant the two of you were. “Ok, um I’m going to make a quick call to Tony to see if he has any other requests for this mission.” he said exiting the living area and going into his room.

You sighed as you finished loading your gun and putting it in your thigh holster. You moved on to sharpening your knife when you heard Bucky clearing his throat. He stood standing behind the kitchen counter and moved towards you. You shifted in your seat at the dining table when he took the seat across from you. 

“Are you sure you’re ready to go back into a mission Y/N?” Bucky asked sincerely, looking at your hands expertly sharpening your knife. You looked up at him and nodded. “I’m being serious Y/N, I don’t want you to get hurt.” he added looking up at your face, staring at your eyes. That's when he noticed something was different about you, just from the look in your eyes.

“James, I’m fine. Stop treating me like I’m a fragile baby that doesn’t know what she's doing.” You exclaimed as you finished sharpening your knife and standing from your seated position. “I’ve trained hard for missions like these. So stop worrying.” you added putting your knife in your holster wrapped around your waist and turning to walk to your room.

Bucky stared at you as you retreated to the area. ‘Fuck.’ he said to himself thinking about how you called him by his first name.

I wear this crown of thorns

Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time

The feelings disappear

You are someone else

I am still right here

*in underground tunnel maze*

Steve, Bucky and yourself were huddled at the entrance of the tunnel. All making sure their weapons and coms were accounted for. “Everyone knows what to do right?” Steve questions you and Bucky as he adjusts the straps of his shield. You and Bucky nodded in agreement to his question. “Alright, I’ll go to the west side of the maze, Buck to the east and Y/N north. We’ll try and meet in the middle headquarters. Good luck in there.” he said as he entered the tunnel. You took a deep breath and you retried your gun from your holster. Bucky looked over at you as he also drew his weapon.

“Stay safe..ok doll.” he says with a shaky breath as he began to enter the tunnel. You looked into the direction of the dark tunnel having a weird feeling deep within your gut. Ignoring that feeling and exhaling the breath you held for some reason you entered the dark maze.

Walking through the maze wasn’t half as bad as you thought it would be. You found your third computer and began to download the file on some rich fat bastard to the flash drive that Tony gave each of you before the mission. You sighed as you finished getting the info you thought you heard something behind you, but as you turned nothing was there. Your com was silent until there was a slight static and a voice came through.

“I’ve got my third file.” Steve said with a hushed voice.

“Same here punk. Doll you ok over there?” Bucky said calmly.

“Yeah, I’m fine over here. I thought I heard something, but nothing was there.” you replied.

“Right, well keep your eyes peeled out for Hydra security members. Stark mentioned that some soldiers would be lurking around the computer rooms.” Steve whispered. 

“How many of these computers are there again?” Bucky asked through the coms.

“Tony said there were ten files so we can regroup near the middle of the maze. What are your guys’ locations?” Steve answered.

“I think I’m near the middle.” Bucky replied. “Y/N, are you at the center of the maze yet?”

“Yeah, I feel like I'm already close.” you responded as you made your way around the winding walls. Your gun skillfully pointing forward making sure nobody got in your way. 

“Wait, Buck I think I see you.” Steve announced. “Y/N, Bucky and I are together and going towards your location.”

“Alright.” you replied and paused when you began to see a shadow. A hydra soldier was guarding the main headquarters. “Guys there’s a guard, but I think I can take him.” you stated, readying your gun.

“Y/N wait until we get there. We don’t know if there are more guards around your area.” Bucky shouted through the com.

“I got this James.” you replied as you took your com out of your ear. You slowly made your way towards the guard and he noticed your shadow emerging before him. He drew his gun pointing it at you and shouted asking who you were. Ignoring him you began to fire, shooting him in the leg then his chest. The gun shot echoed and his body collapsed on the floor. You walked closer to the body, turned it to have it facing up and that’s when you froze. You couldn’t move. You froze staring at the body that laid before you and the blood began seeping out of the gun wounds. Your eyes began moving up the body to look at the guard’s face and this was the moment you finally dropped your gun in fear. The face of the guard wasn’t the man you had originally seen, no it was the face of the monster. The monster from your nightmare that Hydra had induced. It was you.

What have I become

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know goes away

In the end

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

You crouched down at the level of the body, not knowing how long you stared at it, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off of it. There were two Hydra soldiers that saw your figure and slowly drew closer to where you stood. You were completely unaware of them inching towards you.

“Y/N!” Bucky yelled to get your attention, but it didn’t work. The Hydra soldiers turned towards the commotion Bucky had made and drew their weapons. Luckily Steve was with Bucky to back him up and they both fought against them. The firing of guns echoed throughout the entire maze and an alarm went off. Steve and Bucky got closer to you and protected you. “Y/N?” Bucky shook you to snap out of whatever trance you were in, but it was no use you didn’t budge.

“What’s wrong with her?” Steve asked quickly, looking over his shoulder as he fired his gun at an incoming Hydra member.

“I don’t know, but we have to protect her, Steve.” Bucky said shooting his gun at another member. Steve nodded and held his shield up covering Buck. Bucky stood behind Steve aiming his gun to incoming Hydra soldiers. You were still crouched behind the two when they defended you.

“Is that all of them?” Bucky asked Steve as he kept his gun up.

“Maybe. There could be more coming from above the maze, but we should get out of here. How is she?” remarked Steve prying a gun off a dead hydra soldier��s hands.

“Still not responding.” Bucky replied, picking you up and carrying you in bridal style. This was where you blanked out and everything turned black.

*back at penthouse*

Bucky had laid you down on the couch and decided to wash up. Steve sat by your side petting your head waiting for you to regain consciousness. He turned the tv on for background noise and went to the kitchen to get some water for when you wake up. Steve noticed you fidgeting and slowly waking up. He rushed over to your side placing the glass of water on the table at the center.

“Hey Y/N. How are you feeling?” he asked as he brushed your hair out of your face.

“I’m fine. Slight headache and my throat feels dry.” you replied rubbing your temples. Steve gave you the glass of water that he placed on the table. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Steve said, looking s way for a bit. “Um..Y/N..What happened back at the maze?” he hesitantly asked.

“Honestly Steve. I don’t know how to put it. It was my nightmare.” you answered with a slight crack in your voice. You took a sip of water to somewhat soothe your nerves, but it didn’t work. Steve nodded and just when he was about to say something Buck came out of his room.

“Y/N! You’re awake.” He said as he rushed to your side gently grabbing your face to examine it. 

You pushed his hands away, “Bucky, I’m fine.”

“You didn’t seem fine back there doll.” he said looking over at Steve who agreed with him.

“Bucky, nothing bad happened. I just froze. Nothing to worry about.” you said looking down at the glass of water in your hands.

“Nothing to worry about. NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT!? Y/N YOU COULD HAVE BEEN SHOT!!” he began to yell at you.

“Bucky, calm down.” Steve said, raising his hand to make his friend lower his voice, but that didn’t work.

“I CAN’T CALM DOWN STEVE! Y/N COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED!” Bucky stood from his seated position and began to pace in front of the two of you. “Y/N I don’t know how many times I asked you if you were ready for a mission.”

“I said I’m fine James. I just had a small hiccup. Ok. I took down that one soldier and got no scratches.” you tried to sound calm when replying. You placed your glass of water down onto the table when you noticed your hands began to shake. Steve noticed this too and looked over at you with worried eyes.

“Bucky, I think you should calm down. Y/N is right she did take down a hydra soldier. We all got out of there safely.” Steve said, trying to calm down his friend and also you as well.

“Oh now you’re taking her side? She didn’t fucking move, Steve. There were soldiers surrounding her with their guns ready to fire. Y/N, you could have died!” Bucky snapped pointing at you. You felt your eyes begin to tear up, but you didn't want the two to see you cry. Bucky’s words felt like a knife stabbing you. You instantly thought back to a few hours ago back to the soldier you killed. Back to the body you had shot. Back to the body from your dream or nightmare. Your dead look alike. You were so lost in your thoughts you couldn’t hear Bucky and Steve arguing. You couldn’t move again. You didn’t even blink. You couldn’t even breathe. It felt like someone sucker punched you and you couldn’t catch your breath. Then something inside you snapped and you stood up from your seated position. The two men looked over at you as you began to slowly walk to your room. Steve sighed, putting his head in his hands in frustration. Bucky on the other hand stormed to the bar of the penthouse to fix himself a drink.

If I could start again

A million miles away

I would keep myself

I would find a way

*small time skip*

Steve and Bucky sat in silence on the couch. It had been a few hours since you went into your room. They saw that the TV projected a call from Tony. Steve answered the call and Tony’s face appeared.

“Capsicle. Manchurian Candidate. Where is Little Miss Heartbreaker?” Tony mentioned looking around the penthouse.

“Stark, you know Y/N doesn’t like that nickname.” Steve said sternly, staring at the screen.

“Fine, where is Rowdy Ronda? (a/n: *cough* ronda rousey if you didn’t know *cough*)” he said again with slight annoyance.

“In her room.” Bucky huffed. 

“Right..well how was the mission? You get the names?” he asked while tinkering with something.

“Yeah we did, but...um..something happened..with Y/N.” Steve murmured.

“What happened? Is she alright?” Tony exclaimed as he stopped messing with his project.

“She’s fine. It's just she-” Steve was cut off.

“She was almost killed.” Bucky interrupted.

“WHAT?!” Tony yelled. “How did that happen?” he stared at the pair on the other side of the screen.

“She just stood there staring at a body she shot down.” Bucky shot back with slight anger in his eyes.

“She might have had a panic attack, Stark. When we got back to here and she regained consciousness she said she felt like she couldn’t move like she was frozen. She told me that she was basically reliving her nightmare.” Steve added staring at the table where your glass remained untouched. Bucky looked over to his friend in shock or anger. Honestly he couldn’t tell how he was feeling.

“Well. Is she ok? She shouldn’t have gone on a mission if she isn’t up for it.” Tony asked, staring at the two.

“That's what I told her all day during the mission, but she was too stubborn to listen to me.” Bucky remarked standing from the couch and pouring himself another drink.

“We haven’t checked up on her yet. We thought that it would be a good idea to give her some air to breathe.” Steve said looking over at his friend with slight anger.

“Fine. Well check up on her now please. I need you all back here with those flash drives. I’ll see you in a couple of days.” Tony ended the call. Bucky huffed as he downed his drink making his way over to your door as Steve trailed behind him. 

“Wait Buck, I think that you should apologize to Y/N.” Steve said as he grabbed Bucky’s shoulder stopping him from knocking out your closed door.

“Why should I say sorry? I was right, wasn’t I? She should have rested more before she decides to go on a mission.” Bucky countered, shoving Steve’s hand off his shoulder. Steve rubbed his hand over his face in annoyance and gave up.

“Fine. What are you gonna say to her then?” he asked with his hands on his hips.

“I..well I’m gonna...fuck.” Bucky looked to the ground thinking of what to say to you. Steve huffed and moved Bucky out of the way so he can knock on your door.

“Y/N? Hey can we talk to you?” Steve said kindly behind the closed door. There was no answer. He knocked again. Nothing. Steve looked over to Bucky who had a concerned look. 

This time Bucky knocked on the door. “Doll? Open the door please.” Nothing. He went to twist the doorknob, but it was locked and the two men looked at one another in shock. “Fuck..Y/N open the door!” this time his knocks were heavier. Still nothing. He used his metal hand to twist the doorknob so hard that it broke and he held one end in his hand and they heard the other end fall to the ground. The pair looked at each other another time, nodding and drawing their guns for precaution. 

“Y/N?” Steve said as he pushed your door slightly open. They both entered and saw the room trashed. They signaled one another to inspect the room. Looking for you. You weren’t there. “Buck. Come here.” Steve said as he grabbed a letter on top of your disheveled bed. 

“What does it say?” Bucky asked, looking at his friend.

“If you want to see her alive again, bring the drives to Hydra Headquarters.” Steve read aloud looking back at his friend.

A/N: ooof the cliffhanger seems familiar... ANYWAYS!! Hope you guys liked this part and lemme know what y’all think. Again sorry for such a long wait for this series. I have recently gotten small inspo with it, but have no clue about the ending..

[jacobseedz]

Curious Encounter

summary: After a tough day you take a walk, however you never thought you’d cross roads with the King himself.  pairings: Thranduil x fem!elf!reader word count: 1,5k 

a/n requested by @anilynsworld :). Although I’m not a good writer, I tried my best. The start may be a lil bit boring, so my apologies for that, and I just hope you like it! :) PS: this is unedited! sorry for errors etc, english is not my first language! ;] maybe I’ll do part two to this tho??? 

When the last customer left your little shop you let out a deep sigh, whipping the back of your hand over your pale forehead. This day drenched every ounce of energy from you. You've had enough of everything. 

You still remember the faces of old elleths and ellons pestering you the whole day, never once showing their gratitude, but making a big fuss out of anything. A long walk into the woods would instantly calm your nerves.

Shaking of the dust of off your green trousers, you walked out of the shop, turning the 'open' sign to 'closed'. 

The day didn't seem to come to an end, as the suns light streaks shone through the thick branches of the Woodland realm.

Wherever you turned there was joy, from small childrens laughter to stone-faced guards standing on the streets cracking a smile upon seeing a small elleth, extending her hand with a tulip towards one of them.

You saw a young elleth, maybe even older than you, with an also young ellon kissing her cheek and holding hands. You felt a pang in your heart, but carried on.

Suddenly you felt so lonely, with seeing so much love was around you, but never directed at you. Not bothering to look back, you went straight forward towards the great gate.

The guards were reluctant of letting everyone out, but they knew you from your regular treks. They simply nodded at you when you promised to stay near. Grumbling a 'have a nice day', you quickly scurried off.

Barely ten minutes passed before you stood in front of a beautiful pond, with ducks, swans and wild animals drinking from it. Various plants and flowers surrounded the whole place, leaving you in awe. Everything looked so magical.

Before you could take another step towards a pretty, wooden bench, a furred monster dropped down from a branch, right in front of you.

Panic took over your body, a frightening scream ripping itself out of your body. 

                                             _______________

"Get out" he growled. The servant instantly ran out of the Kings chambers.

Thranduil picked up his goblet, throwing it at the white wall, red wine splashing everywhere, making his blood boil even more.

"Bring someone to clean this mess up." he roared, slamming the doors harshly on his way out. Two guards hot on his heals.

Today was one of his worst days.

He wanted to strangle his whole council for complete idiocy and incompetence. Not only did they send the wrong letter to Lord Elrond, they forgot about the upcoming festival and don't have anything prepared.

Also, his seas-master wasn't finished with his new robe, which completely angered Thranduil. He really disliked wearing the same robes.

Upon nearing the stables, a young stable-boy walked rather quickly, trying to align to the Kings Elk's fast pace. The beast straightened itself proudly in front of their master and friend, nearly pulling off the poor ellons arm.

The boy left without mustering a word, afraid of the Kings hard glare sent his way. Seconds later the guards black stallions were brought to them.

Mounting the Elk, he sped off without waiting for the guards, knowing they were right behind him. 

When they were a little bit further away from the Kingdom, they slowed, relaxing to the sounds of nature. All he could hear were cracking branches and singing birds. Finally peace, and no complaints from everyone. 

Suddenly he heard a panicked scream somewhere near them. Speeding up the Elk, he galloped through bushes and thick branches till he saw the source of the sound.

The Kings swiftly slid down the Elk's back, drawing out his sharp sword. He instantly found himself in front of the young elleth, shielding her from the creatures claws. It hissed, sharpening its fangs, saliva dropping from its mouth. Seems like Thranduil interrupted his lunch break, too bad.  

Soon his two guards joined him, awaiting their Kings orders. Thranduil signaled to attack the beast from its sides.  A screeching noise left the spiders mouth, its body going limp, as soon as Thranduil's sword pierced its head.

“Chen hedithon min noer o Orodruin!” the blonde elf gritted out. 

Panting softly he turned, looking down at the short h/c elleth.

"My lady, are you hurt?" he asked, training his worried eyes to your mesmerizing ones.

"N-no, I'm... I... thank you." you finally whispered, head bowing.

Gentle fingers touched you, lifting your chin up. "Are you certain? You've quite frightened us with that scream." he smiled.

Your eyes were glued to his. You exhaled, finally seeing how close you two were. Noses almost touching. 

"I'm alive, thanks to you and your guards, that's all what matters." you said, shyly.

Thranduil's face graced a fond smile. You looked almost like an angel with the most adorable shyness, he'd never admit it, but something pulled him towards you, like an invisible magnet.

He extended his arm, asking, "May I my lady?" You nodded, taking it, big doe eyes looking up at him.

A loud puff made you turn around.

"Oh... he's gorgeous." you said dreamily, eyes trained on the magnificent Elk.

"What's his name, if I may ask, my King."

"That, my dear lady is Beren. One of the boldest elk's I've ever had the privilege of riding." he finished, amused at your behavior.

He bent down to your pointy ear, whispering, "And It's Thranduil, my lady." You kept a shudder from running down your spine.

"O-okay, my apologies, Ki-...Thranduil."

"Ah, there's no need to apologize, though I'd be honored to at least learn your name, beautiful one."A deep, red blush covered your creamy cheeks.

Exhaling, you met Thranduil's piercing, blue eyes, whispering your name, still feeling a little bit shy fromhis penetrating gaze on you.

"What an amazing name, for a stunning creature as yourself" he complimented, heart beating fastly just seeing you blush. He quite liked teasing you, it only made you look cuter.

Muttering a quiet thank you, you moved on to the Elk, slowly putting your hand out, signaling to him that you mean no harm, meanwhile turning your head towards Thranduil, seeking his approval.

"He's friendly, don't fear him, beautiful one."

Choosing to believe the King of Mirkwood, you slowly neared the beast which took a step forward.

"I-I've never seen a giant Elk like him, nor have I touched one." you confessed, nuzzling into the animals soft fur, inhaling it's scent.

Not only did Beren squish your face in his neck, he gave you small licks in return for your kind treating.

"Would you mind a ride, my lady. I'm sure my friend here wouldn't mind." he smirked at your full of wonder expression. 

"Yes, please!" you nearly shouted, quickly covering your mouth and blushing even more.

The King only laughed, your odd personality somehow entranced his closed one. He felt as he was still in his younger years. Not that he minded.

He quickly mounted the massive beast, soon stretching his hand, pulling you up in front of him. Unsteadily you grabbed the front of the saddle, feeling big, warm hands wrapping themselves around you.

"Tell me, beautiful one, what were you doing, wandering like that in the forest?" a shiver went down your spine, upon hearing his soothing voice directly in your ear.

"I wouldn't want to burden you with my thoughts." you dismissed.

He rested his chin on your shoulder.

"Believe me, Hiril vuin, you couldn't burden me with anything you'd say, even if you'd try to."

None of you could stop talking after that. Thranduil asked you personal questions, which you happily replied to, asking him the same in return.

His guards were high on alert, but otherwise pleased with their Kings happy mood.

You forgot about your whole day, actually enjoying your newfound friends company. Even Beren purred lightly, when you scratched him behind his ears.

"Would you like to accompany me to dinner? It would please me to get to know you much better." The King questioned, playing with your silky hair.

"Of course, I'd love that." you turned your head. Your lips accidentally touched, at which you quickly turned, blushing like a tomato. You heard Thranduil chuckle behind you, his chest brushing your back.

Hours and hours later you found yourself in front of your small house with the blonde elf holding your hand to his face, kissing your knuckles.

"I'd thank that spider for frightening you. Thanks to him, I've found you, the most beautiful, young maiden the world could've seen." he cupped your cheek, searching your eyes.

"You're too kind, my King." he looked at you sternly, "However, I'm glad it was you who found me just in time." Time seemed to pause for the both of you.

Suddenly you felt warm lips on your pink ones. Melting into Thranduils touch, you deepened the kiss, craving much more.

"When will I see you again?" you asked when he finally broke away.

"Soon, my beautiful lady, soon." once again he planted his lips on yours.

Forcing yourself this time to break apart, you opened the front door, grinning at the King.

"Goodnight, dear y/n, dream of me, as I will of you." he smiled warmly.

You only nodded and waved at the guards, not expecting them to do anything, but to your surprise they cracked a small smile.

Beren being the intelligent beast he was, bowed at you, puffing air out of his chest.

Closing the door, you slid down to the floor, various thoughts flying through your mind.

Well, you surely didn't expect to fall in love with the King of The Woodland Realm himself, much or less for him to even return your feelings. 

 What an odd world, you though. An odd world indeed....

 ______________

translations according to google sourcesXD; 

Chen hedithon min noer o Orodruin! - I’m going to hurl you into the fires of Mt. Doom!

Hiril Vuin - My (beloved) lady.

Elleth, Ellon - Female Elf, Male Elf.