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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Text

harmless (v)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, ghosts, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, rats

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: why did i like this chapter sm someone explain. anyway!! y’all are so passionate about these two i love it mwah

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He dislikes the subway.

Other than his other valid reason to have disdain for trains, the subway is dark, it’s shady and he’s sure he’s seen rodents fight to the death here on several occasions.

Still, he’s following you down the stairs of the station, watching as you whistle along to the song blasting through your headphones. There’s a backpack swung over your shoulders, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie and converse doing a skip every now and then. There’s a bandana that’s tied across your face, acting as a mask to hide your identity.

He realises that you’re dressed like a commuter. Were you going to dress the part every single time?

You walk along with the crowd. He follows, a few feet away.

Until you stop. He abruptly stops too, leading someone to walk right into him.

“Watch it, dumbass,” they hiss with the courage of someone who has no idea who he is. He ignores them.

He looks on as you dig around your backpack and pull out a roll of paper. A poster, he realises soon when you peel off a layer from the back and press it to the wall.

Was it legal to put up posters in the subway? He wasn’t quite sure.

He observes as you turn around and continue down the path. He waits a few seconds before trailing up to the poster.

Volunteers needed!

If you’re interested in being turned into a ghost for a couple of hours, this is your chance! Should be okay with being on camera so that we can make money off of taped paranormal sightings.

Paid opportunity. You get to pick your outfit. Randos don’t apply.

He yanks the poster of the wall before continuing down the same place you did.

He finds another poster along the way. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling it down. You were advocating to kill people.

He knows he’s going in the right direction because more posters creep up along the wall.

The both of you are on the platform by now but to him, something changes about the placement of the posters. They were growing in frequency, the distance between them decreasing as they were situated close to each other.

He pauses in front of the next one, hand hovering over the paper.

All it reads is ‘STOP’.

He furrows his eyebrow, pulling it down before peering over at the next one.

‘TAKING’, is all that it says.

It doesn’t take him very long to make his way through all the posters in the hallway.

‘THESE’

‘DOWN’

The train’s arrived by now but a quick scan over the crowd and he knows that you haven’t entered. That, and he knew that you were too dramatic to leave without a trace or a small conversation with him.

‘DICKHEAD’

Tasteful, he thinks.

“It took effort to make them, stop ruining it,” you whine from the end of the hallway. It’s empty, given that rush hour was over a while ago.

Even though the mask covers half your face, it’s obvious that there is mischief etched under it. The twinkle in your eye is telling.

“You’re literally killing people.” He holds up the poster. Not the ‘dickhead’ one. He pockets that for later.

He knows there are a few minutes before the next train arrives and more people flood the station. The eccentricity of today lay in the lighting from the incandescent lamps and acoustics of the platform. It made his voice echo like a movie scene.

“I very much am not,” you huff.

“You’re turning them into ghosts. That’s what a murderer does,” he says pointedly.

“Well, only if you keep saying it like that. You’re making me look bad.” You cross your arms across your chest. “What are you, Fox News?”

A scurry next to him earns his attention. Two rats nibble at a piece of fallen food. He wonders when they’ll starting brawling.

“Explain this.” He waves the poster around. He isn’t taking it too lightly he hopes. If it’s actual murder then it’s going to be an issue.

You pull out a black cylinder, slightly bigger than a pen. He can’t really see any more details, but you hold onto it like a wand.

“I’m turning them into ghosts. I’ll post videos of them doing stupid shit. I get famous and then boom, cash money.” You rub your index finger and thumb together. “I’ll give you a share if you volunteer.”

“You’re not explaining the death part.”

He can feel it. You’re about to start derailing.

“Winter Soldier, the ghost story. Literally.” You grin, yanking down the mask from your face to prove it. It pools around your neck. “That’s so funny, c’mon, it’d be amazing.”

It’s been years since he’s heard that. Never in this context.

“No,” he says sternly, “and I’m going to have to bring you in if you’re going to kill people.”

The rats were ignoring everything that was going down like the hardened criminals that they were. They had probably seen worse. He can’t stop paying attention to them.

“I’m not killing them, bro.” You raise your hands in exclamation. “I’m just moving some molecules around, some frequency shit. They’re alive, just ghosts.”

He’s always been one for science. Straight As throughout high school, attended science conventions as a hobby, alive even at 100 through some mad experimentation, definitely seen some weird shit during his lifetime.

But this doesn’t make sense.

“No,” he repeats. “Give me the thing.”

“Fine, I’ll show you.” You roll your eyes. “Since you have absolutely no faith in me.”

He does a quick review of his surroundings.

No one’s around, which is good.

But that just leaves him in front of you, which is bad.

“Don’t you even thin-” he starts, muscles tensing as he shifts into a defensive stance.

You whip out the little pen thing from beside you but before he can react you turn around and duck.

The click of a button releases a bright light, small but intensely stronger than the fluorescents in the station.

He reels back, feet carrying him away from where you’re crouched. His eyes quickly look down at his body.

Nothing’s changed.

He lifts his hand to check, runs it over his face. Still alive. He thinks.

“Behold,” you declare, “Ghost rat.”

He looks to where you’re pointing. The two rats from earlier were still nibbling on their food but something was off about them.

He could see the faint outline of the tiles on the wall behind them, almost like they were... translucent.

You aimed at the rats, not him. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed at the fake threat.

He watches as they move. They don’t look hurt or injured.

“Cool, huh?” you say smugly.

He can’t stop staring at them.

“Bring them back.”

“They’re fine, look how abstract it is.”

“Bring back the rats.” He can’t believe this is what his life has come to.

Bucky Barnes, Rodent Protector.

You aren’t fazed by his indifference, instead wonder filled eyes gaze at the animals. “Astral mice, sarge. Embrace the miracle of modern science.”

“You killed them.”

“They’re alive, they’re just ghosts.” You raise a finger to point. “Look, they’re still eating. Biological functions are still taking place.”

Which was true. But still. He doesn’t know what is going on.

“Bring them back to... non-ghost alive.”

“You sure you don’t want one? That one kinda looks like you.” One hardened glare after you realise the answer. “Jeez, alright then.”

You dig through your bag before pulling out a matte black replica of your current invention.

“Sexy colours, right?” You hold them up. “I modelled them after your arm.”

He looks down. Sure enough the gold and black matched his cybernetic limb. It was oddly flattering.

“Say thank you, Y/N, for letting me be your muse-”

“Un-ghost the rats.”

“Ungrateful,” you narrow your eyes at him.

Still, you comply with his demands, ducking down to their level again.

A click of the button, a bright light and the rats are back to normal. Non-transparent normal.

“Okay, give me that.” He takes a step towards you.

“Nuh uh.” You pull your arm back. His mouth twitches at your response; what are you, five?

The black one is stuffed back into your bag but you wave around the gold like a threat.

He sighs, making a pass for it. In a second his arm is twisted and shoved against his back, forcing him to spin so that he’s facing away from you. His eyes widen.

What the fuck?

“Now we’re having a good time,” you whisper into this ear.

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist to rotate his own out of your grip.

“Since when can you fight?” he asks.

“Are we getting to know each other now?” You raise your leg to give him a semi gentle kick in the side, using his momentary distraction in blocking it to give him a knock on the head with your free hand. “This is so romantic, sarge.”

There’s a low rumble in the distance and he knows the train would soon start pulling into the station. It was still a distance away, but his heightened senses warned him that it wouldn’t take much time.

He groans. How much longer would he have to go at this?

He could easily win this fight and he knew it. But something in him itched, pulled him back from doing it.

He blocks another attempt at his head. “Stop that.”

You grin. “You know what’d be fun?”

He knows you’d reply even if he didn’t encourage it. The lights from the train light up the tunnel around the corner.

“This.” You don’t give him a second to recover before you flick your wrist away from him.

The device flies out of your hand and right onto the track. The both of you watch, you in glee, he in horror, as the train runs right over it, unleashing the brightest light he had ever seen. His eyes shut instinctively before it blinds him.

He forces himself to pry open his eyelids, look at the damage caused.

The train, sure enough, is translucent. He can see the posters on the other side of the platform through the carriage, through various people holding onto the poles for support or seated on the seats.

“Ghost train!” you cheer. He’s mortified.

“Fuck no,” he mumbles, yanking the backpack off your shoulder. He rummages through it, looking for the gold version.

“You lookin’ for this?” you ask nonchalantly, holding it up in your hand like it isn’t the solution to stopping a bunch of ghosts from wandering around New York.

“Turn them back.” He gives you a chance.

“Do it yourself, coward.” You grin, holding it above your head. The train is going to stop and he needs everyone to be alive and non-ghost before they leave.

He doesn’t wait this time, instead turning to you. The thing is still held in your grip above your head. He rolls his eyes, doing a quick assessment before grabbing your free hand, tugging you closer and plucking the device out of your hand before you have the opportunity to retract it.

“Great, now figure out which button to press.” You’re dangerously close to him. He can feel your hoodie brush against his tactical jacket. “Also if you wanted to be all pressed up against me, you could have just asked.”

He furrows his eyebrows, letting go of you as you give a loud laugh. He looks down at the device. It has several buttons, littering up and down the side. Each look the same.

The train’s slowing down.

“They’re both the same device; this version is not a magical solution to the other one. If you press the wrong button then both of us are going to be fucked.”

The last carriage is getting closer.

“Say I win this round and I’ll fix it.”

There’s a gleam in your eye. He knew this was exactly what you wanted.

He wishes he was as stubborn as Steve, just run through each button until the right one worked.

“You win this one.” He hands it back. He wasn’t like Steve and judging by the number of items the idiot jumped out of planes without a parachute on a daily basis, Bucky was glad about it. At least Bucky did it sporadically.

“Yay, two each for the both of us, then,” you say, taking it from him and twisting, eyes running down the sides. “Close your eyes, old man, or else your cataract’s gonna get worse.”

Right as the train pulls to a stop, you press down on the button before throwing it and the blinding light that emanates from it. It lands on the top of the train right as the doors open.

The passengers start stepping out. Some of them are looking at their hands and legs in a little disbelief, most just push through the crowd to leave.

He can’t see through them. It’s a good sign.

He turns to look at you but you’re not there. Instead, the weight of the small device weighs down in his pocket.

The sound of a thud on glass draws his attention.

He looks up at the train. The window of the carriage in front of him has a bit of fog on it. You trace a heart in the condensation and blow him a kiss before pulling your mask back on.

The train starts moving, leaving him alone in the platform again with your invention.

He lets out an exhale, wandering outside to grab a sandwich before waiting to catch the next train to go home.

Later in the evening, he catches hold of a bit of tape and the ‘Dickhead’ poster finds a place on Sam’s door.

He doesn’t appreciate it.

So now it’s tucked away in the shelf of Bucky’s bedside table along with a freeze ray, a ghost-inator, and some discount Pym Particles.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years ago

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Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 12: Changes •

A/N: The missing gaps in time are on purpose since they will be in book 2 as flashbacks, which will include references to events you have not read yet. All fluff and shenanigans this chapter to make up for last, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: brief mention of nausea and gore towards the very end, but otherwise, tooth-rotting fluff!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧

𝐀𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬

𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

- David Bowie, Changes

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- 𝗠𝗜𝗗 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

"I still can't believe you went after Bowers," Richie scoffs.

As he steps off his porch and onto his lawn he looks over at his best friend and takes another gander at the bruises and welts littering her skin. Her lip was still busted and despite his and his mother's efforts to clean her bottom lip of blood, it must have started bleeding again sometime during the night as more had crusted over.

"Yeah, well," she shrugs. "It felt good,"

"Yeah," he snorts. "It looks like it,"

"You know what I mean," She elbowed him and he nodded with a little laugh.

"What d'ya want to do? I mean, we could keep standing around here like a bunch of idiots, but-" he shrugs, hands falling into his pockets, and Y/n smiles.

"I dunno," she shrugs. A wince falls over her face, a painful-looking one at that. "But I don't think I'm gonna be welcome back at the Capitol Theatre any time soon."

Richie nodded, a ghostly look falling over his face at all that had transpired in the past twenty-four hours alone. He still couldn't believe she had done that. He still couldn't believe a lot of things but her being in his corner after what she had found out seemed a little harder to believe right now. Especially after the junkyard... But - Jesus, that was already a week and a half ago, it felt like only hours.

He could hear her words from the park the other day in his ears and he suddenly felt the urge to pay her back. He smiled his charming crooked smile and hoped for the best.

"You still craving fries?"

"Always," she answered, a look of suspicion written in her features. "Why?"

Y/n didn't know why she kept asking these questions when she knew the answer. She didn't at all like the look growing in his eyes or the stupid feeling of guilt growing in her stomach.

"Cause I'm prepared to make a deal with ya toots,"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Sure am," he says, patting his hand over his left pocket. "I'd been saving up for a long weekend at the arcade but that's a bust. And I just got a raise on my allowance ━ that's again, toots. Allowance. It's the money you get when you do stuff for people, you might never have heard of it--"

"Is there a point here, Rich? Cause if so, you better get to it faster,"

"Point is, I'm packing and I'm also craving milkshakes. So how's about I treat you to the biggest pile of fries your staved ass has ever seen--"

Y/n shoots him a knowing look, ready to detest when he holds out a finger.

"If," he continues. "you take me there."

"Take you there?"

"Take me there," he nodded. "By piggyback."

Y/n gave thought to this, all while hiding behind an unimpressed look. As much as she hated to admit it, she was starving.

Richie shrugged. "Hey, you're the one always saying you don't want to feel like charity. Well, this ain't charity, this is work with a reward. Take it or leave it,"

Her unimpressed look grows stronger in an attempt to buy her time. But it's useless, her stomach answers for her with a long growl and a smile sneaks up on her.

She steps forward, crouching down a bit for him to jump on her back. "Alright, let's get this over with."

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

"You know, I was really worried about carrying you, but dude, you weigh like nothing. You're a fucking bean pole," Y/n says.

She comes to a slow before straightened her back letting him slide off her back and onto the ground. The two of them had arrived at the nearest diner in the town square where they now stood.

"Well, not to brag or anything, but," he fluffs his collar. "I took a massive shit before we left,"

"Ugh!" a shocked and uncomfortable laugh breaks loose from Y/n and she sticks out her tongue in disgust. "Regretting this already."

She threw open the doors and the two found themselves inside one of Derry's lesser diners.

It smelled like sausage and coffee beans, and it had a vibrant red and black theme. There were maybe nine or ten people there, little kids included and they could hear the jukebox blasting a David Bowie song. Y/n had a hard time enjoying it with the combination of a full bladder and an empty stomach so she turns to Richie and nudges him with her elbow.

"I'm gonna run to the restroom. Get us a booth?"

"Do your thing," Y/n nods and disappears around the corner. As his eyes follow her, they land on the corner in question she had disappeared around where there sat the jukebox.

He wanders over, eyeing the machine as Changes reaches a crescendo. A mischievous smile blooms as the lights from the window illuminated his face.

"Three plays for a dollar, huh?"

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

When Y/n returned from the restroom, she had expected to find Richie lounging in a booth somewhere, feet up and bugging the employees. She did not expect to turn the corner and nearly collide with the boy as he stood at the Jukebox and feeding all his money into it.

"Dude! I carried you here, you owe me fries!"

"And you shall get them my liege," answered Richie in a Shakespearean tone. "But first!" He dropped the act and looked away from the Jukebox for the first time, wearing an almost evil grin. "A social experiment,"

Y/n's brow furrowed as she watched Richie punch in the same Tom Jones song over and over and over. It was then she caught on to what he was doing. She held out a hand as her eyes watched the Jukebox.

"Hey, hey, hey, wait," she said, stopping Richie in his tracks.

He looked up at her with a pout. "Relax, toots. I saved just enough for their biggest basket of fries, you'll get them." Then Richie saw the look on her face. He could practically see the gears turning.

"No, not that. It's just..." she said, eyes never leaving the list of songs. "Before you put in more, you should throw in one It's Not Unusual,"

And that's when the afternoon went from good to great.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

By now, the duo had ordered and waited. They now sat tucked into a corner booth with a great view of the street corner and the passers-by of Derry. Changes had long since ended, and the remaining songs in the queue had trickled out. Richie memorized the song queue and was silently counting down until the big moment as he sat across from his battered-up best friend.

Her busted lip poked out in a bored pout, her chin propped up on her palm as she balanced her head on the table while looking out at the graying town landscape. It always escaped her how Derry could possibly look so gloomy on even the hottest, brightest days of summer. Until recently that is, the truth all too clear to her and her friends now.

The thought of the Losers scattered all over this hellhole only added to the gloom. They should all be here, together. Pointlessly debating which condiment goes best with fries, not fighting over... Over what they had fought over.

Y/n's eyes finally broke away from the manhole at the center of the little intersection outside and wandered over to Richie. He had stolen the salt and pepper shakers from a few empty (and not so empty) tables and was currently doing his best to construct a salt and pepper shaker tower. His tongue was sticking out from between his curled lips and his glasses were sliding to the end of his nose at the angle he looking. The tower was nearly three shakers high and Y/n could hear him muttering, 'where's Haystack when you need him?' under his breath.

The gloom Y/n had been thinking so intently on was suddenly ebbed away at the sight, and the corners of her lips hooked into a small smile.

At least she had her favorite Trashmouth.

"If you keep undressing me with your eyes, I'm gonna catch a cold," said Richie, never once looking up from his tower.

Y/n snorts. "You're unbearable,"

Richie shrugs defensively. "Hey, you're the one who said we're stuck with each other," he clicks his tongue and winks. "No going back on that kind of deal,"

"Oh, I meant what I said," Y/n releases her chin and folds both arms on the table. She hated getting all serious again, but she just needed to be sure. Her voice softens, trying to catch Richie's eye. "All of it, okay?"

Richie's hand around the salt shaker stops, and he pries his eyes off the tower and to his best friend. Despite her intentions and promises, everything that transpired the day before -- good and bad -- flooded over him and made him tense.

She suddenly offered him her pinky and a small smile.

"Stuck forever?"

Richie rolls his eyes. He didn't quite know who to blame, maybe just the losers in general, but he was going all soft and lame.

"Like my ass and a toilet seat, toots,"

He locked his pinky with hers and the deal was sealed forever.

Y/n leaned back on her side of the booth and took a large swig of the complimentary water as her eyes returned to the streets. The chatter of the diner had died down a little. There weren't as many people since they got there, but they were still filtering in and out. But when Y/n had a hard time shaking off the images she had of her best friend in the state he had been, she deems it safe enough to lean forward and lowered her voice.

"You know," she began picking at her napkin, making slow and tiny tears here and there. "I--" she sighs, not knowing how or where to begin. "I wouldn't blame you."

Richie, having abandoned his shaker tower, frowns.

"I wouldn't blame you if maybe, it was -- or is hard to be..." she shakes her head again and rubs her forehead trying to find the words. "I wouldn't blame you if it was hard to be around me and Eddie," She blurts.

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Richie says. "We're not gonna do that, okay? You have exceeded your sappy meter and you're gonna need to wait about 48 hours for it to charge up again. I think we've both had enough, right?"

Y/n swallowed her words. She swallowed any promise she was holding out to him that their feelings for Eddie wouldn't change anything. That she wouldn't ever want to stand in their way, however true it was. And instead, she made a new one.

"Let's just agree, whatever happens, happens. Let that be whatever it needs to be. Even if that means neither of us gets to see that adorable, asthmatic pipsqueak ever again. Deal?"

Y/n fought the bittersweet smile threatening to appear. She could see it now. Richie knew what he needed to know about himself now, and that was already a lot for him to handle. She could see in his eyes he wasn't ready for the possibility of whatever was his feelings for Eddie Kaspbrak.

Y/n's stomach turns to knots when the thought crosses her mind, but that only confirms to her it was time.

She looks around the diner, looking for prying eyes and she still finds none. She leans in, voice lowered as she fiddles with her napkin again. "I'm uh--," she clears her throat. "I've never told anyone this, but..."

She lets out a sharp breath. "Well, let's just say Eddie isn't the first Loser I've ever had feelings for,"

Richie shakes his head, making a "what am I supposed to do with that?" face at her sudden shyness. She only gives him a solid stare until it finally clicks.

Richie collapses against the seatback with a gaping, triumphant look.

"No. Fucking. Way," Richie slaps his hands on the table and leans forward, and an ugly excited laugh comes barreling out of his chest. "You big homo!"

"Would you fucking shut up?!" Y/n hisses, reaching over and shoving him back against his seat by his forehead. She looks around the diner and determines no one had heard that. Maybe except one guy in his forties, but that was most likely about him knowing they did something to the jukebox. He was sat with his young kids, looking tired and all too suspicious of their laughter at the jukebox. Finally, she laughs a little. "Beep, beep you moron."

"You telling me you and Little Orphan Annie...?"

"I'm saying," Y/n sighs, shrugging her shoulders. "I meant it when I said you're not alone, alright?"

The look in Richie's eyes hardly changes.

"No!" She answers. "No, nothing's happened but..." Y/n shook her head. "I had feelings for a really long time, up until about two years ago."

"Wowza," Richie sighs, leaning back into his seat and plopping one hand on the table. He sighs. "We sure know how to pick em,"

"Yeah, you could say that," Y/n laughs.

In fact, that's all she could say. A million things ran through her head, things she wanted to say to Richie but couldn't. Cause when she looked in Richie's eyes at that moment she -- they both -- knew everything unsaid could remain that way. With one look they knew. They knew that they could both count on each other, have each other's back. And that included Eddie too. They knew that no matter who held Eddie's heart, they could both agree that Eddie's happiness -- and each other's -- was most important.

The sound of brass instruments invaded the atmosphere, pulling the duo's eyes to the jukebox across the diner. Their faces lit up in matching grins, both of them nearly forgetting the psychological horror they had just unleashed upon the diner.

"What's new pussycat? Woah, wo~ah,"

And thus began the best meal they ever had.

- 𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

Y/n relished at the demanding burst of cool air that bombarded her sweaty skin as she stepped inside Keene's pharmacy. The grip on the money she had scraped together tucked tightly in her right palm grew tighter when the shopkeeper's bell announced her arrival. Her eyes fell to her injured leg, and by now her feet have already begun their journey forward towards the first aid supplies. The last of the bandages secured around her leg, and she winced at the faded and stained cloth that was in dire need of a change.

Her eyes pick up from the ground when she hears a choked gasp only to find the boy that had been occupying her thoughts standing before her.

"Y/n," His voice is meek and heavy with sadness, and you can hear the absence of breath in his lungs that she always seemed to create.

Despite the staggering stampede of emotions she felt, she found herself releasing a chuckle. "Hey, shrimp."

The name itself would have been strong enough to send hooks into the corner of his lips, tugging them into a half-smile had it not been for the sight before him; she was a wreck. Looked as if she had been put through an actual wringer and his heart stops for a moment, in fear. At that moment he is grateful he has his inhaler, Y/n had a talent for taking his breath away but he never would have dreamed of it happening this way. Already his mind is going at twice its speed, a mad swarm of thoughts that dizzy his head, and as quickly as he can he tries to pluck one - just one - thing to say to her. When he finally speaks, he is thankful that his voice has returned to him.

"How's your leg?"

He doesn't have to ask, the first thing he saw - the very feature that tipped him off about her - was the blood-soaked bandages wrapped around her left calf. He couldn't imagine why it would still be bleeding, much less this profusely given how long ago it had been. Perhaps it had opened back up. And Eddie felt it best not to address the new set of scrapes and bandages that were scattered across her arms and legs, though each one filled him with worry. But her eye... it was completely swollen, and several shades darker than a usual bruise.

She grew rather sick looking at the question and instantly he was filled with dread. Had It gotten to her again? Was it something new entirely? Either way, he felt a great deal of guilt he hadn't been there, and more than anything he wanted her safe. Maybe, if it wasn't too crazy, be the one to look out for her. To protect her.

"I just," she swallows thickly, eyes darting around to avoid his eye line.

Eddie tilts his head, encouraging her to continue. She looks as if she's about to unload a great deal off of her chest, but after a moment she shakes her head.

"Nothing," she lies. "Just need new bandages."

Eddie's horrified expression does not waver, but only intensifies, zeroing in on her. He just simply can't ignore the state she's in. And while every instinct inside him screams to jump in and help, he knows that's not his call nor his place. But he had to ask, he had to know.

"Are you okay?" He blurts suddenly. He mentally slapped himself. Of course she wasn't. "What happened...? You're leg? You're eye? Are you in trouble at home? Was it...?"

She grows tense, and Eddie scolds himself once more when he sees her walls rebuilding themselves. He hated his stupid word vomit sometimes.

"No, Eddie!" she says tiredly, sighing at her slight outburst. "I'm..." she sighs again, staring at the floor, looking almost... calculated.

Finally, she picks her head back up, her expression flat, but her tone a bit softer. "Just Bowers. The usual."

Eddie couldn't help but feel like she was lying. And that hurt him. But he understood. If she had pressed him about things at home he probably would have done the same. Eddie sighed deeply as well.

He missed the way things were.

He missed Y/n.

He missed the feeling he got around her, the storm of butterflies and mind-numbing fits of laughter they'd bring out in one another. He missed the way his skin would tingle like every blood cell was on fire when their skin accidentally brushed together. Eddie missed the way he'd lose himself in thoughts about her like he was now.

Eddie didn't realize it until that last thought crossed his mind, but this was the first time in weeks he felt something other than anxiety and fear. And maybe he was crazy, but when he looked in Y/n's eyes now he thought he saw it too -

"I'm sorry, Eddie," she says, breaking him from his daydream, sending him falling back down to earth. "But I really need to take care of this."

He glances down at her leg, the bandage still soaked with blood and he feels fear squeeze his chest again. She was leaving. And that meant he had to, as well. He would have to say goodbye and go back home to his mother. He could hear her haunted cries, whining at him and wailing. What took you so long, Eddie? Don't you know what you're doing to my heart?

Eddie goes rigid at the thought when he realizes; the last time he saw Y/n... Those horrible things his mother had said to her and he... Jesus, what she must think.

"Y-Y/n," he sputters desperately as she begins to limp around him. She had gotten no answer for once again he had gotten lost in his thoughts. But he couldn't have it end like this. He just couldn't. "Y/n, I'm sorry."

She stops in her tracks and looks back at him, thoughtfully. A sad smile graces her face.

"I know, shrimp,"

Her eyes hold a thousand words, a million things she wants to say to him as he wants to say to her. But they die out, and she turns away.

"Y/n!"

He couldn't let her go, he just couldn't. Then why was this so difficult? He always had a mouthful to say, but around Y/n L/n, Eddie was always speechless.

"I wanna..." he gulps, a pleading, sincere look in his eyes. "I wanna see you again." He admits.

Y/n smiles sadly. Like she doesn't want to let him go either. But still, she gives him a pleading look after gesturing to her leg.

"Eddie, I gotta take care of this,"

His head sunk to the floor and he nodded, embarrassed. Of course, what the hell was he thinking? She didn't need him coming in and messing things -

Her sudden sigh broke his thoughts. "Meet me outside in five? I could use some help,"

A nervous smile broke out, stretching and hurting his cheeks and Eddie nodded when he met her eye. He was out the door without another word, back in the alley where he had first bandaged her up all those months ago.

His mind raced with possibility and more unanswered questions. What would he do, what would he say? What had happened to her, and could he have been there to stop it? His face still burned with embarrassment when he thought of the things he let his mother say to her, how livid he was with himself.

It was all he could do not to bounce off the walls from the jitters. The crates from the last alley visit, or at least some like it, remained and so Eddie eagerly took a seat. His knee bounced up and down at unnatural speeds as his mind raced, his eyes wandering the alley as the wind swept in a familiar summer breeze against his cheeks.

"I really need to focus right now," he orders, his hands making delicate work of the bandage over the new kid's stomach.

"You need to focus?" Richie snorts over his shoulder, causing Eddie's cheeks to burn.

"Yeah, can you go get me something?"

"Jesus! What do you need?"

"Go get my bifocals. I hid 'em in my second fanny pack."

Y/n leaned forward, balanced on her knees with a crooked smile that would with Eddie for days. "You have a second fanny pack?"

The burning in his cheeks grew, and Stan joined in. "Yeah, why do you have two?"

Eddie didn't dare meet anyone's eye, let alone Richie or Y/n's.

"I need to focus right now and it's a long story. I don't want to get into it."

Besides! He was telling the truth! He needed to focus. Who knows what kind of shit has gotten into this kid's system by now?

Eddie had nearly finished with the new kid's bandages when he heard the jingle of the store bell.

"Yep. Thanks." Came the hardened voice of Y/n backing out and towards the alley with a pressed and forced smile before turning for the alley and away from whoever she had been talking to. Eddie was the only one to have caught the small whispered words under her breath from the silence of the alley. "-for nothing, I guess..."

Eddie shot up from his seat, subconsciously straightening out his shirt.

"Everything okay? What was that all about?" He asked as Y/n finally joined him. Eddie sputtered, mentally kicking himself for prying. "I mean, you don't have to tell me or anything, it's just you seemed frustrated. You know what never mind, you probably want to get your leg fixed up, right?"

Eddie stopped again, shifting on his feet when he realized Y/n must be waiting to talk. "Sorry," he mumbled. And to his great surprise, she smiled.

"Don't be. I've missed your word vomit," she joked.

Eddie could feel the corners of his lips twitching up in a smile, and something happened to him he hadn't felt in a long time; flutters invaded his chest, making the air he breathed feel lighter and his stomach was doing flips. And he would have fallen harder had he known Y/n's stomach was doing flips right along with him, and a burning sensation lighting up her neck and ears.

"Well, here-" Eddie said, snapping out of his daze, no longer able to stand by and ignore the gash in her leg. He supposed it really was like old times. He stepped aside, gesturing for the crates and taking the bag of supplies Y/n had handed over.

"For real though," Eddie began, eyeing her nervously as he unzipped his fanny bag and begun fishing inside for hand wipes. "What happened, Y/n?"

Her smile fell, and her eyes dropped to her lap where her fingers fiddled together. To Eddie, it felt like a long time before she finally answered.

"A lot's happened since Niebolt, I'll leave it at that,"

Eddie nodded, and stepped forward, lowering himself to his knees before her injured leg, and began unwrapping the first of the supplies from her grocery bag. "It feels like years ago,"

"Yeah, it does," Y/n croaks.

There's another small silence and Eddie feels a tug in his chest when her eyes linger over him. He only spares a moment to meet her eyes back before taking a deep breath and holding it. With a wince, he unraveled the cloth and quickly discarded it. He tried not to linger on the injury; the edges of her claw-like scars remained, but it looked as if they had been messily pried back open.

Like deja vu, Eddie found himself battling to keep his lunch in his stomach, but the overall worry in his system for one of his best friends triumphed over it this time around. He dismissed the urge to gag and instead darted his eyes to Y/n in between his work.

"So..." he asked, realizing he didn't really know where to start. "how have you been? Other than, you know," he laughed nervously.

To his relief, Y/n smiled.

"It's hard not being around the losers. I only ever see Richie anymore. Even Bev and I haven't really spoken since the fight, which has been really hard. We've been in each other's lives for so long,"

As Eddie finishes cleaning the wound, his heart sinks a little at her words. True, he missed Beverly very much. But he also knew all too well what Y/n spoke of, and judging by the look in her eye as she softens at him, she knows it too. She gives him a gentle nudge with her foot.

"He misses you too," she says, growing another small smile. "Won't shut up about you, in fact. Which is saying something... Guess I'm one to talk, though," she adds, watching him nervously out of the corner of her eye, and Eddie's heart skipped another beat.

"What about you, shrimp? Dare I ask?" She says with a smile.

Eddie, Y/n noticed, had been unusually quiet. By now, on any other occasion, he would have talked laps around her by now but something was keeping him. Maybe he just feels a bit out of step, she thinks, as she did. It had been far too long since things had been normal for either of them. But something told her he was now particularly quiet perhaps because he wasn't all that eager to share how things had been for him since the losers split. She couldn't imagine things had been well at home with his mother given everything that had transpired.

So she didn't pry. She changes the subject, hoping to get his mind off of whatever might be bothering him. Her mind returns to his previous questions, and she bites the bullet.

"Quitting my job." She says finally, stunning Eddie enough to pull his attention away for a split second. "You wondered what I was doing there. And aside from restocking, I was um... I was quitting my job."

"You got a job at Keene's Pharmacy? When?" Eddie asked, reaching for a strip of gauze.

Y/n seemed to think about it for a minute, counting the days in her head before shrugging. Leaning forward, she holds the gauze in places Eddie begins applying the bandages. "I guess a little over two weeks after Niebolt. I did little things around the store, this and that really,"

"How come I never saw you?" Eddie asked, and Y/n shrugged.

"He had me running errands most of the time," and she smiled a little. "But sometimes I'd stick around a little longer. I'd offer to sweep or restock the shelves or something. It's stupid, I know, but... I don't know, I guess I was hoping to see some admittedly cute... shrimpy little dude come walking in to refill his inhaler. Is that stupid?"

Eddie paused, unable to hide the smile or the raging blush taking over his face. Y/n smiled to herself when she saw it, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't feeling a little bit of it too. Finally, Eddie spoke. Or at least, he tried to. His voice came out hoarse and he cleared his throat, quickly shaking his head as he secured the bandages in place and began disinfecting his hands.

"No. No, that's not stupid at all. I mean, I don't know if I'd say shrimpy, necessarily, maybe a little skinny but-"

Y/n laughed, smiling hard at the boy she hadn't stopped thinking about for weeks. Like Eddie, she hadn't realized just how much she had missed him until now. But, she hoped, maybe she could change that.

Eddie trailed off, his ears burning at her laugh but a smile on his face all the same. At this moment, everything was perfect. Or seemingly so, at least. And then...

"Thanks, Doctor K,"

He smiled, a sinking feeling in his chest knowing what was coming next as she hoisted herself back on her feet. "Yeah, of course."

A silence falls over the two, a silence they know won't last.

"I guess I should get going," Y/n says finally, gesturing down the alleyway. "I'm meeting up with Richie later, he's swinging by my place." And for a moment, she looks hopeful and Eddie already knows what she's going to ask. "You're welcome to come. We both really miss you,"

Yet again, Eddie Kaspbrak finds himself with a million thoughts racing in his head, but no words on his tongue. What could he say that wouldn't hurt her? What could he say that wouldn't essentially admit he was still a coward who couldn't stand up to his own mother? What could he say?

But evidently, he doesn't have to. Y/n can see it in his eyes, and any trace of hope deflates with her. She nods sadly, eyes now on the ground and her freshly bandaged leg. "I get it, Eddie. It's fine. You don't have to say anything."

"Y/n..." He didn't know what felt worse; knowing he let her down, or the sound of her using his real name.

"Really, it's okay,"

But it wasn't okay. And Eddie knew that. Today he had been given a second chance with Y/n, and already he had fucked it up. Or so he thought...

A smile returned to her face just before she left; it wasn't nearly as bright as it had been moments ago, but it was as real as any other he had seen all summer. And then she spoke. She spoke the three words over her shoulder as she disappeared out of view that returned a familiar spark to his chest.

"I'll call you."

There was hope yet.

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starlightxsvt · 4 years ago

Text

Sweeter Than Sweets

Pairing ➳ CEO!seungcheol x baker female!reader

Genre ➳ kinda enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, romance, angst?? clicheeee :)

Warnings ➳ hella cursing, reader's going through a lot lol

Word count ➳ 2.5k

part 1 l part 2

Part 1: THE BEGINNING

The plot owner is going to visit you today. I'm sincerely sorry for my mistake, I misunderstood. Please resolve the issue with him gently.

You scoff at the message. What the actual fuck? Fury floods through your blood and you clench your fists.

This cannot be happening.

After such a long time you had finally scraped enough money to lease a place for your bakery shop. It's been your dream since so long and after years of hard work it was finally coming true- until today. Apparently the real estate agent is nothing but a fathead and for whatever goddamn reason, she leased you the place when it was clearly not up to be leased. The building owner is on his way now- to possibly kick you out.

No, you cannot let that happen. It is their fault and because of their miscommunication or whatever you are not going to give this place up which you worked so hard for.

If he thinks you'll give in so easily, he has another thing coming.

A Mercedes Benz pulls up in front of your shop just as you finish screwing one of the decoration lights.

He's here.

You take in a deep breath and march out of the shop as a tall male comes of the car. You almost stop in your tracks to gape at him- broad shoulders, gorgeous rich black hair that matches a sculptured face- he's simply breathtaking. No one should be that gorgeous. And he's young- why the fuck is he so young? Does he seriously own this building?

No no no. Stay focused.

He takes long steps towards you and even before he can reach you, you snap, "I'm not giving up this place so don't waste your time."

He stops right in front of you, his hands in his pockets and raises a brow at you. He chuckles- how dare he, before saying, "You do know that this is my building, right?"

"So?"

"So, it means I can kick out a nuisance like you anytime I want." His eyes go dark as he stares you down.

Nuisance? What the fuck? You take in a deep breath, trying to stop yourself from reaching out and choking him. He's so fucking gorgeous and infuriating, damn it.

"Mr. Choi, I've leased this place for two years and if you want it so much, come back two years later and we can talk about it."

"Leave while I'm being polite," his tone is gravelly and his eyes bore into yours. You shiver slightly.

"But I paid for this place! This is mine now!" You yell, unable to hold yourself together. "If you were so concerned about your building then you should have been careful that your agent was leasing it!"

"I admit that it was her fault, a huge one at that matter but I need this building. I'll give you 3 days to take everything and leave. My workers will start their renovation work from next week." He says and turns around his heel, ready to head back.

"No! I will not be moving out! I've worked so hard to lease this place! I even brought all the furniture for my shop! You have no right to do this!" You shout at him. Fuck that son of a bitch.

He stares at you with a bored look, "You've 3 days."

"No!" You whine, stopping him in his tracks again. "If you really want this place then give me some more time. At least a few months."

He marches back to you, his jaw ticking, "Do you think I'm here to play games? You move out in 3 days or my men will drag you out from here." He warns, eyes glinting.

Motherf-

You can't hold in your temper. So you walk past him and towards his fancy car and draw a long nice scratch on the body using your screwdriver. After being satisfied with your handiwork, you turn back to him.

He stares at you, dumbfounded. His driver looks the same except he looks a bit scared. You smirk at Choi, crossing your arms.

He still looks surprised and he scoffs as if he can't believe what happened. He rakes a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched.

"Expect a call from my insurance company. You'll have to pay for what you just did." That's all he says before walking past you to car as his driver quickly fires on the engine.

You mutely watch him leave.

Fuck. Oh fuck.

What have you done?

You stare at Choi's personal number that you managed to get from the real estate agent. Shit. You've to call him. You've to apologize. You're in no condition to pay for his damn fancy car.

Shit. Shit. Why did you do that?

You bite your lip, staring at your phone screen, mustering up the courage to call him. You've to apologize and somehow get him to forgive you.

Oh heavens, here goes nothing.

With shaky hands you ring him up and hold your breath. After several rings he picks up, his voice gruff, "Choi here."

You clear your throat and inhale deeply, "Mr.Choi, it's me, ___. We...uhm, met earlier today." You try to stable your voice.

The line is silent for a moment and you're afraid he has hung up but he speaks, his voice laced with a chuckle, "Well, well, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

You swallow, "Mr.Choi I called you to um... apologize for what I did to your car. Please understand that I was really angry then and I sincerely apologize for what I did. I'm so sorry."

"Okay," is all he says. You ask nervously, "So, will be please be kind enough to cancel the charges against me?"

"Do you think that a sorry from you will repair my car?"

"I- please, sir, you've to understand that I'm in no condition to afford for the damages... I-I know I'm responsible but please understand-"

"You want to keep the place to yourself, you want me to drop the charges against you- what you think I am? Some sort of genie who'll grant all your wishes?"

"No- sir-"

"Besides you don't even sound so sorry," His voice sounds teasing and you exhale loudly.

This son of a-

"I don't have time for this bullshit so-"

"No sir please! I'll do anything, please cancel the charges. Then we can talk about your building, I'm sure we can come to a conclusion."

"Are you trying to make a deal with me?"

"Sir- I just-, please, please understand my situation," you almost beg.

The line is quiet for a long time and you're about to break into tears but then you hear his voice, "Fine, I'll text you a place. Meet me there at 8 tomorrow evening. Don't be late." Then the line is dead.

You're not dumb enough to go where a stranger tells you to go without telling anybody. So, on the morning of the appointment, you tell your friend the location of the restaurant and in case you were found with a slitted throat, at least the police will have a lead. After that you decide to google Choi, wanting to have a little bit more info on him. Sure enough, he's the son of a filthy rich businessman well known in the country and Choi, himself is the creator of two business companies.

Sure, it'd be nothing for him to dump your body in the water or poison your food.

Evening comes quicker than you expected and you rush to get ready. You pick a maroon knee length dress that is what you believe- hope- to be appropriate for the fancy restaurant. It's not like you have a lot of dresses to choose from. You take a cab and just as the clock hits five minutes past eight, you're rushing into the restaurant.

The receptionist asks you if have booked a seat to which you reply that you're here to meet Mr.Choi. Then you're led through a fancy lobby and into the private dining area, where the said male sits. He's dressed in a grey vest and a pressed linen white shirt underneath, with the sleeves rolled up, showing his muscular arms- damn.

His eyes meet yours and you feel an electricity jolt up your spine.

Lord please help me tonight.

"Good evening, Mr.Choi," you murmur, gently sitting down.

The bastard has the balls to smirk as he crosses his arms over his chest, "Good evening, Ms___. I was wondering if you bailed out on me."

You chuckle nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He grins, motioning towards the menu in front of you,"Shall we order?"

Your eyes glide over the fancy food and the fancier prices. 85$ for a fucking piece of meat?

After chewing on your lip and thinking too much about what to order, you go with a plate of salad and pasta.

"Do you have any wine preferences?" He asks, eyeing the wine menu. Why's he acting so nice? What's his deal?

"Er...I'll let you choose," you say.

After ordering a fancy bottle of wine, Choi folds his hands over the table and looks at you, a small smile playing on his lips.

"So..shall we talk business now?" You offer, unsure.

He nods but stays quiet which you take as a sign to start first, "I only have two things to ask for. Please cancel the charges and please give me a little more time to look for a place. It's impossible to find another place in 3 days. I've paid for the lease here and I've also ordered the furniture. And then there is a monetary issue. Please understand my situation."

He pretends to think, pursuing his lips, "Hmm, I'm afraid that's too much you're asking from me."

"Mr. Choi, I'm sure a man like you can help me with that much." You try to butter his ego.

"Again, I'm afraid you don't know me. If you had any idea about a man like me, you wouldn't say that." His eyes darken.

Fuck. He won't bulge. Why is he so stubborn?

"Sir- please, I sincerely apologize for my actions yesterday, I wasn't in my right mind."

"If only sorry could cover it," he says, nonchalant, leaning back into his chair. He eyes you quietly, his eyes scanning you carefully as your palms grow sweaty.

You are interrupted as the waiter serves you your dinner and pours you the wine. As soon as he's gone, you gulp down the wine, trying to calm yourself.

Damn, it tastes nice.

Choi laughs at your actions before an evil smile crawls up his face. You swallow, meeting his gaze. What's he thinking?

"You see, nothing comes for free. I'll take off the charges against you and I'll give you time to look for another place- actually no, I'll pay for a nicer place for you to open your shop. But in return you've to give me something."

Fuck. You eye him warily.

"What?" You squeak.

"Marry me."

You choke on your food very unceremoniously followed by a lot of coughs. You sputter, trying to get yourself under control. Meanwhile he simply watches you, a playful smile on his lips.

When you can somewhat speak, you breath, "I...I think I misheard you."

"You didn't. I asked you to marry me."

You gape at him, utterly confused, almost certain this is a dream or nightmare. He simply offers you silence as you try to process what he said.

You're left even more confused.

What? Marry him? What the actual fuck?

"Would you please... enlighten me?" You murmur.

He grins, leaning over the table, "You're thinking too much. It'll be a pretend marriage. I need someone who'll pretend to be my wife for a year or so, so that my father hands over his company to me- which he won't unless I get married and settle. It's as simple as that."

Your mouth only grows wider. That's nowhere near simple.

After processing his words in your head for a long time you mumble, "So...you need me to be your pretend wife for like a year and in return you cancel the charges and give me more time to look for a place?"

"It's actually more than that sweetheart. I'll pay every penny for your shop. I'll make sure you have a successful business. Be my pretend wife and I'll give you the biggest and best bakery shop this country has ever seen."

You're dumbfounded and you can only squeak out, "Is this some sort of a hoax?"

He chuckles, "Say yes and I'll have a contract prepared with all our terms and conditions."

"I- I need to think about it," you rush out. Think? Damn it, were you seriously considering it?

Yes, yes you were.

This is a lifetime opportunity.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Choi nods, "I'm sure you need to. But I expect an answer quickly. You've until tomorrow evening."

"H-huh?" You're lost.

He stands up putting on his jacket, "You've my number, call me when you make your decision." He gives you a look and just like that he's out of the room.

You're left with your half eaten plate of food.

"So you are telling me that a filthy rich, smoking hot motherfucker asked you to marry him?" Jane's voice echos through the phone.

You rub your temples, staring at your lap, "Yes."

"Bitch if you don't want to do this then give me his number. I'm more than willing to help him out."

"Jane, I'm serious."

"Me too, babe."

You groan, flopping into the bed. "Can you believe it? I still can't wrap my head around it." You whisper.

"You're thinking too much. It's not like you're going to be married to him forever."

"I know but still it's so scary...If I say yes I'll be living with a stranger for the next year."

"A sexy as sin stranger for that matter."

"Gosh- will you stop!"

"Okay okay," you hear her sigh. "Listen I know it's scary and all but this is a win win situation for you, think about it. You're going to be living as a millionaire's wife and when you're divorced you're gonna have your own shop. This is a lifetime opportunity, I mean how many of us gets this? This is like one of those romance movies where-"

"Okay I get it. Thank you for your precious help." You roll your eyes.

" You're welcome!" She laughs. "I'll be waiting for updates!"

"Piss off." You laugh, hanging up.

You stare at the ceiling, your mind numb. This is overwhelming- unreal. Why can't he just marry someone prettier, richer? He can have any woman he wants. Dozens of questions gather in your mind but despite the answers, you've made your decision.

You're going to get married.

A/N ➳ heyyy~ it's ya girl's birthday today lol! I've been wanting to write a fic like this for quite a while but yk, couldn't muster up the courage. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please please leave your feedbacks, my ask box is always open- I'll really appreciate it! 💖

Masterlist

Tag list: @chimikima @all-i-needislovee @peekabooseoksoon @masterpiecejoonie @sorrywonwoo @sweetiescoops @diamondsvts @insidesvt @bononswife @ayla-hathway @kpopssuregi @justasoftstan @top-crop @wainrain

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grasshopperjay · 4 years ago

Text

silent sleepers

evermore series | track 2: champagne problems

your moms ring in your pocket, my picture in your wallet, your heart was glass i dropped it.

pairing: jay halstead x reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: angst, swearing, alcohol, sadness, insecurity

Everyone’s eyes are on you, the whole room anticipating an answer, an answer that shouldn’t take you nearly this long.

The room is sleeping, everyone is quiet, not a sound to be heard. God you wish someone would just break the silence, but it’s actually you that’s supposed to do that. Answer with a yes, a cheer or a smile, or some happy tears, but you can’t do any of those things.

Jay is down on one knee in front of you, his once hopeful face looking more dire as the seconds pass.

You take a glance around the room at all the faces as they realize what’s happening. Your eyes catch on Jay’s brother, Will, as he rubs his jaw uncomfortably.

It’s only when Jay quietly says your name that you remember exactly what’s happening. You’re being proposed to.

And you have to say no.

But you don’t know how.

The beautiful diamond ring is practically calling your name, and you recognize it as Jay’s mothers, and she’s not here, but god you feel like you’re letting her down too.

You’ve never felt worse in your life. All these people and Jay’s stupidly handsome face make you want to say yes. But you can’t.

Which is why you don’t look back when you run out the door.

You only stop when you’re out of the building and down the street, your lungs ache and when you try to take a deep breath in, all that comes out are sobs.

The tears are nearly freezing on your cheeks, the crisp air only starting to sting your skin now. You’re not exactly dressed for the weather. The only thing blocking you from the elements is the thin strapped emerald green dress Jay bought you.

And of course your exit wasn’t exactly planned so you never grabbed your coat or purse, or phone for that matter. You’re completely stranded.

But even as terrible as you’re feeling, alone and cold in an unfamiliar part of the city, it’s probably nothing compared to how crushed Jay is.

You saw it on his face. A look so rare and so unfamiliar to you. He was scared.

And you hate that you did that to him.

You have no idea what to do anymore, but you know you can’t go back, so you walk a little further until you find a tiny dive bar. One of the only open signs still lit up on the street.

There’s only a few people scattered around the bar, and they look at you like you have three heads as you walk in.

You perch yourself on one of the barstools. And almost immediately there’s a glass shoved in front of you, a small shot of tequila, you’re assuming by the smell.

��Oh I can’t-,” You start to say, and the bartender cuts you off.

“You look like you need it,” He explains with a pitiful smile.

“I don’t have any money.” You admit, and he just chuckles.

“It’s on the house, runaway.”

“You can tell?” You murmur, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

“You’d be surprised how many fancy looking boys and girls I get in here, all alone. I’ve heard enough proposal gone wrong stories to know when one of ‘em walks into my bar.” And then he grabs himself a glass, raising it to you with a sad glance before he downs the liquid, and you do the same.

He leaves to tend to some others and apparently you’re alone with your thoughts for too long, cause the tears start spilling from your eyes, and their pace is too quick to wipe them away and pretend nothing is wrong anymore. You’re crying and everyone here knows it.

Then there’s a panicked face storming into the bar, and you’re on your feet within seconds. Kim sighs, “Oh thank god,” She wraps her arms around you, holding tight while you try to pretend you’re not a total mess.

“How’d you find me?” You whisper.

“I went right, Sylvie went left. I checked every damn building on this street.” Kim chuckles. “Jay was gonna try to ping your phone, but that was a dead end.”

You feel a pang in your chest when she says his name, “Where is he?”

“Will took him home.”

“Is he okay?”

“I think you know the answer to that question.” She sighs, and you wipe harshly at the damn tears that won’t stop falling.

“I don’t know why I couldn’t say yes.” You shrug, and Kim places her hand over yours.

“I think you’re scared,” She says, and you open your mouth to respond but she keeps going. “And that’s okay. It’s okay to be scared. But he deserves an answer, whether it’s the one he wants or not.”

“She’s right,” A voice chimes in. It’s the bartender, he’s setting two more tequilas in front of you and Kim. “Shot for confidence.” He says.

Kim laughs, and you find it in you to crack a little smile, even though it hardly feels genuine. “Shot for confidence, and then I’ll take you to him.”

•••••

You’ve been staring at the door for at least ten minutes, and you still haven’t thought of the right thing to say.

And it’s stupid cause there is no right thing to say, not after everything you’ve put him through tonight, but making him wait longer is only gonna make it worse so finally you open the door.

After you shut it, you take a deep breath and then turn into the living room.

He’s sitting on the couch, looking completely lost and tears gather in your eyes almost immediately.

“Jay...” You whisper, but he doesn’t even lift his head. “I’m so sorry.”

That stupid word isn’t even going to begin to slice into the pain you caused him tonight, and you’re terrified because you really don’t know if your relationship will recover from this.

You stand there for a few minutes, the silence deafening while you wait for him to say something. “Jay-,”

Finally he does, and the hurt in his voice is enough to bring back the wave of tears you tried so hard to fight off.

“Why couldn’t you say yes? What did I do wrong?”

The fact that he thinks it’s his fault is heartbreaking and so, so untrue, you can’t help the way you rush forward, kneeling down in front of him. You grab his forearms to pull his hands away from his face, but his red puffy eyes refuse to look back at you.

“It’s not you. You did nothing wrong you have to know that, Jay.”

“Then why?” He asks again.

And the most terrifying part of all? You can’t answer his question. You don’t have a reason.

“I don’t-,” He finally meets your eyes and your words clog in your throat. You’re left looking into his devistated eyes, unable to say or do anything that will bring any relief to them.

His eyes gloss over, it’s like a kick to the stomach so you just say it, even though you’re not sure if it’s true. “I do want to marry you, Jay.”

He remains silent but you know he’s asking, then why’d you say no?

“Just not yet...” You recover. “I’m not ready, I’m sorry.”

And finally, there’s a small glimmer in his eyes. He’s hopeful and relived and selfishly, you feel better too. Like you can breathe again.

“Shit,” He whispers, swiping under his eyes to make sure there’s no emotion shown. “I should’ve asked, or hinted or something. Shit.”

“Jay-,” You start, because he’s about to take this all on himself, just like he usually does but you can’t let him. You’re fucked in the head, that’s why you said no, not because of him. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that, I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong, Jay.” You repeat.

He finally nods, acknowledging what you’ve told him so many times, and you sigh, hoping you’ve taken some weight off him.

Then he grabs your hands and pulls you onto the couch with him, and you could cry. You thought you ruined everything, but maybe things can be okay again.

The two of you lay there, pressed together, your head on his chest, his arms holding you tight. Eventually his breathing evens out and he relaxes, and you lift your head gently to watch him as he sleeps.

He looks so angelic. So perfect. You really can’t believe that somehow you managed to get him to love you. It’s unfathomable, and it scares you. What if he comes to his senses? What if he realizes you’re not good enough?

But laying here you feel warm and safe and above all... Loved. Even after everything you put him through tonight, he’s still here, holding you and loving you despite it all.

And finally you get it.

It’s just like you telling him this whole night wasn’t his fault. You had to repeat it for him to realize it. Jay’s been doing the same thing to you for years, you will always be good enough. You were never not good enough.

For the first moment since he got down on one knee, you think, maybe you can do this.

Next time he asks, you have your answer.

....

taglist: @lorenakaspersen @jayxuptons @toomuchtv95 @halstudandruz @halsteadsway @hart-kinsella @astrosmayhem @life-treatments @dreamingmanip @jayhlstead @sofferderynnp @caromichaela @samantha-chicago

#jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd #one chicago #one chicago imagines

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boxofbadaddiction · 4 years ago

Text

Come For a Drive

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: George steals his Dad's car to take the girl he fancies on a surprise late night drive but things don't go quite to plan.

Warnings: Swearing. Our boy don't have a liscene.

It was risky, George knew that. Stealing his Fathers car in the dead of night. If his parents found out he was sure he'd never see freedom again. But it was worth it, in his opinion. Y/n was worth it.

He's been smitten with her since the beginning of the year, after they shared a compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

He's always known of her, being mutual friends with Lee Jordan and all, but she's always been rather reserved. It wasn't until they shared that compartment he realised how great she was. There was just something different about her that hooked him.

He'd tried all year to get to know her better, but it wasn't easy. She had very thick walls built around herself, he could she that, but he also saw the goofy, confident, fun side of her too scratching just below the surface. If one wasn't paying attention it'd be easy to miss but George was always paying attention.

As the Summer holidays drew nearer he'd managed to get some fleeting moments alone with her: between classes and walking from meals. Which is how he learnt she lived only a cars ride away from the Burrow.

Hence his current escapade.

It was just past 11 o'clock in the night when he gingerly snuck from his bedroom as to not wake Fred (not that he would even if George tried to wake him) then down the stairs and out the back door.

Slowly he pulled the barn doors of their small shed open and crept into the car; a bronze, 1978 Volkswagen Scirocco.

His face scrunched as he turned the keys in the ignition as if willing the car to start as quietly as possible. With a rumble and hiss of the engine the car started. While he sat waiting for the engine to warm up he stared worriedly to the homes windows praying no lights flicker on.

A few minutes passed with no movement and he sighed in relief, shifting into reverse he backed the car out and set off with one destination in mind. Y/n's.

...After a breif detour as the low fuel light beckoned him to the nearest petrol station. Luckily the family kept a decent amount of muggle money in the console for such occasions. Arthur hadn't dared modify their new car with magic as he had the Ford Angila, given what unfolded 2 years prior.

Driving cautiously through the street he recognised as Y/n's his eyes scanned every house door and mailbox for the number he knew to be hers, from all the times they'd exchanged letters, smiling proudly to himself when he spotted it and the light which shone from her bedroom window which told him she was awake.

Y/n was a halfblood, like Lee Jordan, and after a discussion with George on some of her favourite classic movies the idea to surprise her in a similar fashion had sprung to mind.

Pulling the car to the side of the street he quickly shift into park, leaving the car running as he hopped from the vehicle, and crept to the garden which lined the base of the simple two story home.

He searched blindly on the ground for a handful of small stones, standing back a pace when he was satisfied with the 5 small rocks in his palm.

He could faintly hear the melody of whatever song she were playing through her speakers and hoped he'd be loud enough for her to hear.

Softly as possible he tossed them towards her window and listened for the light clink which followed telling him he'd hit his mark. The first 3 he threw were met with no response. It wasn't until his fourth attempt the approaching shadow of her figure told him he'd got her attention.

She peered curiously from the window of her bedroom, squinting into the darkness below.

George stepped into the light thrown from her bedroom, waving an arm above his head to get her attention onto him which seemed to do the trick as she opened the sliding glass window.

"George?" She questioned in a shouting whisper. "Hey" he answered simply with a smile.

"What are you doing here?"

"Come for a drive"

Y/n was silent for a moment as her brows furrowed and mouth fell agape. "...what?" "Come for a drive." He repeated casually. "You don't have a liscene." "No, but I have a car...don't worry I'm an excellent driver" he winked.

The girl looked back over her shoulder into her bedroom then back to him, contemplating the idea and biting her lip at the thought. Her mind telling her one thing while her heart begged for another.

"Okay. I'll be down in 2 minutes" she allowed a smile to breakthrough onto her features. George's eyes lit up at that and he began nodding through a grin as he moved toward the car, "Dash of speed" he teased hoping back into the drivers seat.

Y/n rushed quietly through her room, throwing on a favourite pair of jeans and comfortable sweatshirt, overtop of the plain singlet she were already wearing, before switching off her stereo and bedroom light.

Cautiously she made her way down the stairs from the top floor of her home desperate not to wake her sleeping Father down the hall. Grabbing a set of house keys from the hook by the door she rushed from the house and made a run for the passenger side door. She chuckled slightly as she slid into her seat, looking excitedly to George as she fastened her belt. He was lent back in his place with one hand on the steering wheel and the other rested comfortably on the back of the passenger-side headrest. "Ready?" He questioned. "Ready."

It were a relatively short drive, mere 25 minutes from her home, before they found themselves admiring the large wheat fields and empty farm paddocks highlighted by the bright fullmoon shining over head.

Little to Y/n's knowledge this spontaneous late night drive was more than it appeared. George had spent a short amount of time that afternoon setting up a small picnic basket in the shed with a few small candles and a large blanket which he planned to spread out by the Burrows pond. He was hoping tonight would be the night he and y/n could become something more than just good friends.

They'd been making comfortable conversation all the while as George drove them down the familiar old dirt road which led directly to his home, his heart was swelling with pride at the smile on her face and the knowledge he were the one who put it there. The night was absolutely perfect...

Until the engine gave a sudden unexpected cough and shudder and dread flooded his body.

The pair looked worriedly to the bonet through the windshield. George swallowed harshly before speaking "old cars ya know...nothing to worry about." Y/n looked to him with a tight-lipped smile and an uncertain nod.

Georges hands came to grip tightly at the wheel as he silently prayed and begged for the car to just. make it. home.

Another engine sputter rocked the car and they began to lose speed.

"Shit. Shit. Shit." George muttered anxiously under his breath. "Not now." The car gave a final harsh lurch before stopping in it's tracks on the old dirt road.

"Sure it's nothing." George reassured.

A reassurance which did not hold well as the engine let out a hiss and steam began billowing from the bonets edges.

The Redhead had to admit defeat. With a deep sigh he spoke simply: "Fuck." And pushed himself back into his seat, furrowing his hand through his hair.

Y/n swiftly unbuckled her seatbelt and sat up straight, tying her hair back out of her face.

"Look, I'm really sorry " George turned in place to face her sensing he'd just completely ruined the night. Several more apologies were already lined up on the tip of his tongue, "I-"

"Pop the hood." "What?"

The girl reached over the boys lap, one hand bracing the wheel as her other felt for the bonets lever. George sucked in a surprised breath at their current rather compromising position and held his hands back by his shoulders. When two of her fingers locked under a latch she gave a tug listening for the light pop of the cars hood which followed. Sitting up quickly she swung herself from the car as she opened the door in one swift motion walking to the front.

George fumbled with his seat belt hurriedly as he stumbled from the car to join her watching as she hoisted the bonet and secured it in place.

He coughed as the cloud of steam hit his face but y/n seemed unphased. With two hands placed on the cars front she lent over inspecting the engine looking for anything that may be out of place.

George watched as she tore her shirt from over her shoulders and wrapped it over her hand to test the various knobs were secure in place. He felt a bit awkward as he had no idea what to be looking for, but given the way her eyes scanned the cars interior he trusted she knew what she was doing.

He hadn't meant to but his eyes soon left the the cars body and attached to hers as he admired the way she bent forward. The look of concentration on her face as well as the slight shimmer of her skin from the steam and heat radiating from the busted vehicle. "There's not a flaw to this woman." He thought to himself.

He'd gotten so lost admiring her curves he almost missed when she spoke to him.

"What fuel did you put in here? Diesel?"

"Hmm? I-Ah-" George stuttered and cleared his throat, "The one closest to the car."

Y/n takes a step back letting the hood loose from it's prop and closes it, dusting her hands together as she speaks, "This car takes unleaded, you've put in diesel. Your engines clogged."

"Can we fix it?" George asks hopefully with a nervous expression, he had no intention of his parents ever knowing about his late night drive...so this complicates things a bit. Y/n, meanwhile, has to fight back the urge to smile at how cute he looks when he's nervous.

"I'll need tools but yeah, I can."

"Ugh. This is crap! I can see the bloody house from here." The boy groans frustratedly staring down the road.

"Look on the brightside, the roads pretty flat from this point on."

The redheads face scrunches in confusion, "How is that a brightside?" "Makes the push that bit easier." Y/n claps him on the back as she walks to the drivers door.

"...the push!?" George exclaims in shock. He watches as she leans into the car throwing her shirt into the back seat and shifts the gears into neutral before cranking the windows handle to wind it all the way down. "Unfortunately so."

He looks from the oddly relaxed girl back to where he can faintly see his home in the distance. "That's gotta be over 2k's away..." he states the obvious. "Well, there's no point waiting around. If you push from the back I can lean through the drivers side window and use the wheel to steer while I push from here. Shouldn't be too bad." "You are weirdly calm right now." This comment causes the girl to let out a small laugh. "Yeah well, this wouldn't be my first time. Come on, best get to it."

To George's surprise it wasn't overly hard to push, it were no picnic of course and he were quickly becoming tired but he'd expected it to be much harder than it turned out to be.

The pair were working up quite a sweat as they pushed the car along the dirt track. They took a brief pause for George to take the time to remove his red flannel, leaving him in a sweat stained white t-shirt, and tied it's sleeves around his waist as he'd become far too hot from the work. Their hair was now sticking to their foreheads from the sweat, the sight of the Burrow so close now firing a new determination in them to make it back.

Y/n managed to easily guide the car back into it's place in the Weasleys garage as George collapsed comically behind the vehicle in a huff. "Ya know, when I came to get you tonight this wasn't at all in my plans."

"I'd certainly hope not." Y/n chuckled. George rest his head against the back of the car as he gazed over to where his prepared basket sat by the tools bench thinking if he may yet be able to recover from this rather embarrassing muck up.

"Right, do you have a tool box around here?"

"Ah, yeah" George shifts to grab their tools, laid just beside the basket he'd been staring at, thankful now of his Father's tinkering hobby as the shed was well supplied with a variety of tools he hadn't a clue what most were used for.

Y/n pulls the keys from the ignition before walking around to meet him as he hands the tools to her. "So, how do we do this?" "I'll need to drain your tank to start off, nothing I haven't done before." The girl speaks moving to place the tools by the boot, rummaging through the kit briefly in search of a flashlight: smiling as she locates a small black one in the bottom corner. She takes the keys and uses them to unlock the boot and retrieve the car jack, quickly pumping up the car so she can lay down underneath, switching on the small light as she does so.

"What are you doing down there?"

"Looking for the drain." "Ah! Right..." George is truly glad y/n can't see his face right now because the confusion he's visibly expressing gives away his feigned understanding of what she's talking about. He's quickly realising Muggle things are much more complicated than he may have thought.

"So uh...how do you know about all of this?" George questions awkwardly.

"My dad. He raised me, he's a mechanic and a real grease monkey. He taught me everything I know. Hey, do you have like a shallow bucket or grease pan out there?" "Uhh" he looks around the small room, filled with all of his fathers odd muggle artefacts and spare parts. "Yeah here you can use this." He answers reaching for a shallow tin dish.

Y/n slinks out from under the car after placing the bowl and unjacks the hoist letting the fuel drain.

"What's next after that's out?" "I'll clean everything out, put it all back together and no one need know a thing." She winks at the astonished boy infront of her.

"You truly are brilliant." He smiles.

George watches on as y/n works diligently to fix his Fathers car, completely in awe, as the night slowly approaces the day. She tells him about her childhood: growing up watching street races and helping her father fix cars. His eyes are trained to her every movement and attention fixed unwaveringly to every story she tells. She's so smart and beautiful and just everything he wants he can't help feeling himself falling further for her as he hangs from every word.

"Well. That should be it." Y/n smiles to George as she wipes her hands on an old rag, stepping away from the car.

She's covered in dust and grease and sweat but there's a glow to her. George can't stop the smile that breaks across his face as he takes her in.

Y/n's face drops slightly and she tilts her head in question at Georges endearing sort of stare held on her. "What?" This successfully snaps him out of his trance as he shakes his head answering quickly "oh nothing no I just- thank you. For everything you're...you're really amazing."

Y/n chews the inside of her bottom lip as she blushes from the compliment wringing the piece of cloth between her nervous palms. "You're getting soft on me, Georgie." The girl teases and throws the dirty rag at his chest which he catches easily, tossing it aside.

His eye's rake over her figure once more in admiration and he notices a dead blade of grass hanging from a stray lock of her hair. He moves towards her slowly so he's standing not inches from her, staring down to her questioning doe-like eyes and slightly pouted lips. With a tentative hand he pulls the piece from her hair flicking it to the ground before tucking the strand behind her ear.

"You're filthy." George speaks without thinking, to which Y/n raises an eyebrow. "Laying under a car will do that to a girl." She retorts. "Sorry, I just meant, you probably want to get cleaned up?" He elaborates taking a bashful step back.

"Oh, it's fine really. I wouldn't want to risk waking your family. I can just wait till later-" "if it makes you more comfortable, there's a small sink at the end of Dad's work bench, wager you'll feel loads better once all that dust and crap is off your that pretty face of yours." He swipes his thumb over the edge of her chin playfully as he speaks the last words to her, that signature mischievous glint replacing the nervous look in his eyes from earlier. Y/n blushes at his words and the light touch. "I'll go grab us some drinks, you must be thirsty after how hard you've worked. I'll be back in a tick, yeah?" With a quick wink he leaves for the house.

As George leaves Y/n takes a moment to express all the giddiness she's feeling over the night. A bright smile adorning her features as she bounces slightly on the balls of her feet releasing a content sigh. She is so happy she came out tonight, even with George's little mishap with refuelling the car, she wouldn't change a moment of it. She's fancied George for quite some time now but something in her always stops her from being fully open to the possibility he may like her too. After tonight though she's hopeful their relationship is growing into something more.

Snapping herself out of her little lovestruck daze with a shake of her head she makes her way over to the small basin and begins washing away the dust and grime clinging to her skin.

George moves quietly through the kitchen retrieving a few small snack items and cool drinks from the fridge, listening intently for any movement upstairs. He decides to freshen himself up at the sink as he's quite sweaty as well, covered in dirt from the long push home, splashing water over his face and lightly scrubbing his forearms clean. He chews his lip as he peers from the kitchen window to the shed thinking about the girl waiting for him inside. 'May just be able to save this night yet' he thinks.

He's about to leave out the back door when a thought crosses his mind which has him quickly dashing to the laundry for a clean set of shirts. Ripping his dirty shirt over his head and the flannel from around his waist to replace it with one that's clean. He grabs one of his jumpers while he's at it before dashing back out the door.

"Hey, Y/n?" He calls walking back into the garage and over to where she's drying herself by the sink with a hand towel. "I-uh, I grabbed this while I was inside. Thought you might like something to wear. It's not much, a bit scratchy and probably 4 sizes too big but it's clean at least." He smiles sheepishly handing over the light sweater and turning to leave to give her some privacy to change and hastily set up the small picnic he'd intended for them to be on.

Y/n is at a loss for words. Staring to the deep green sweater in her hands, she runs the soft material through her fingers as she notices the large blue 'G' on the front and can pretty much feel her breath being stolen from her. She's certain there'd be no wiping the giddy, schoolgirl smile from her lips no matter how hard she tried.

Changing into the jumper quickly she relishes in the familiar scent of the man who gave it to her as it fills her senses. Nuzzling her face into it's collar she draws in as much of him as she can in a single breath before moving out to find him.

Her brows furrow as she notices his absence from the garage, stepping anxiously from the small building "...George?" her voice calls for him tentatively. She's startled as his tall figure suddenly appears by her side, there's a wide smile on his face and he's slightly out of breath.

"Hey" he greets as he grabs her hand, "Come with me." Y/n stumbles behind as he pulls her along with him, feeling butterflies erupt in her stomach over how his hand grips her own.

"This..." George begins as he comes to a stop pulling her body close to his, "is what I actually had planned for us tonight." He guestures towards a plaid blanket laid out by a ponds edge. 3 tealight candles lighting a platter of various snack foods and drinks. Billions of stars glimmer over head as the moon casts a brilliant blue over the vast paddocks which line the horizon.

Y/n's in awe of the scene laid before her and can't seem to find the words to express how blown away she is. George pulls her towards the picnic slowly as he watches a smile form onto her lips as she looks up to him.

"George, you didn't have to-" "i know I didn't have to. But I wanted to. I wanted to do this for you."

The pair sit and George takes the lead serving her a cool drink and some of his favourite pastries and sweets. Conversation flows easily between them as the night goes on and sooner than expected the platter is empty and placed to their side as they admire the night sky in comfortable silence.

One by one the stars begin to fade as the dawns first rays peak above the skyline but neither of them have grown tired, too wrapped in this moment shared together to ever dare let fatigue in.

George has always adored sunrises at the Burrow, watching as the early morning rays bathe the vast fields in a golden glow, he's excited y/n will be able to experience her first with him.

This sunrise, however, is different. This sunrise feels like a warning for George, one which tells him he's quickly running out of time.

In a moment of confidence George shifts so he's closer to the girl he adores. Their hands over lapping and legs only just grazing the others as they stargaze. Feeling brave herself Y/n let's her head rest against his shoulder and she smiles as she feels his own rest atop of hers. Her eyes drift shut contently.

It's only a small moment of intimacy but it has their hearts racing.

"Y/n...can I tell you something?" George speaks, breaking the formed silence.

"Mmm, of course."

"I don't want to make this awkward so no matter what I say just know nothing has to change between us if you're not comfortable with this."

Y/n shifts slightly to look up at him as he draws a shakey breath. Their eyes meet and she notes the nervousness held in his expression, she offers a small nod of encouragement, urging him to continue.

George turns in place, shifting onto his knees, to speak with her. It's now or never.

"I just- this past year, getting to know you better, it's made me realise how alike we are. You've become one of my absolute best friends and I never for the the world want that to change. But I can't continue to deny the fact that I am completely taken by you. You're so strong and smart, funny and beautiful that I just- I've fallen for you. I'd really like to try and be something more...if you'll let me. If that's something you want too."

There it was. The confession Y/n has been dreaming of for months. The same one she'd been debating on sharing seconds before he spoke. Over the last year George has proved himself to be a most loyal friend and someone she can place all her trust in. Staring into his eyes now after such an amazing night the only thing stopping her from getting everything her heart desires...is knowing the right words to say.

"George, I-"

"Wait! You should know that even if you don't feel the same way that that's okay. I'll happily pretend this whole dopey speech didn't just happen so nothing has to change. I just want you to be...happy, with us. No matter what."

"I am happy, Georgie." She smiles reaching for one of his hands and intertwining it with her own. "But I'd be happier with you. You're my best mate...always will be. But everything you just said: I feel the exact same way. George, I want to be yours."

An astonished breath leaves his body at her declaration and he can feel his body relax as the nerves drain away. He could swear his smile has never been so bright as it is in this moment and all he wants to do is hold her.

His hands come quickly to cup the sides of her face, her hands resting atop of his forearms, as he leans in to kiss her, stopping himself moments before their lips connect.

He pulls back slightly peering into her eyes to ask, "Can-can I kiss you?" Y/n bites the inside of her lip as she smiles, nodding eagerly. Her hand comes to the back of his neck pulling their lips into one anothers in a soft kiss.

One of George's hands comes to her waist as the other rests below her ear and he smiles when he feels her pull him down so he's laying above her.

They kiss until their breathless and on still. Basking in the others presence and the feel of their body so close to their own. As the sun slowly breaks over the horizon painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson they fall beside each other, cuddled on the ragged blanket with their foreheads rested together. Perfectly happy.

"Stay for breakfast?" George whispers sweetly, "Reckon Mum won't mind an unexpected guest at the table. Not after I announce it's my new Girlfriend."

"Mm, and how do you plan to explain my sudden appearance?" George shrugs with a smile, pulling her back in for another tender kiss.

"I'll come up with something."

#George weasley x reader #George weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #George weasley

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amatchinwater · 3 years ago

Text

Did a little thing for Day 2 of Stackson Week 2021!

Day 2: Trapped together

Pairing: Stackson

Warnings: underage drinking

Word count: 2709

Rating: teen and up

Ao3 link

Stiles knew it was a bad idea to have a party at Lydia’s lake house in the middle of hurricane lever rain and a goddamn flood warning. What’s even worse is he’s the first person to show up! Lydia herself isn’t even here yet. The banshee was kind enough to tell him where they put the hide-a-key so he could get in and out of the storm. Scott and Isaac aren’t picking up or answering his texts. If they’re not here because they’re too busy fucking and Stiles has to be here soaked and alone, he’s going to kill them.

When Stiles gets in the house, he stomps his shoes on the mat to not track in any mud. Lyds would castrate him for that, so he takes them off just to be safe. Slipping out of his jacket, Stiles hangs it on the hook, careful not to let it drip anywhere other than the little rug underneath it. The house is empty and eerily dark. Then again, why wouldn’t it be? He’s the only fucking one here. Making his way into the kitchen, Stiles’ preturbrance only grows.

It doesn’t even look like the place is meant to house a party in the next twenty minutes. Nothing is set up. There isn't a single bag of chips or other snacks on the counter. No pizzas and sandwich platters like her birthday. A keg is not beside the island either. Just two bottles of wine with a sticky note that reads-

“Have fun?”

Oh my god! Stiles jumps and flails, nearly knocking the bottles over on the counter.

“What kind of fucking game is she playing?” Jackson snatches the note, rereading it before flicking it back towards the island.

Still clutching his wildly beating heart, Stiles gasps, “could you maybe announce yourself next time?” He collects himself- mostly. “Not all of us have your little wolf senses. You almost gave me a heart attack, you fuck.”

Jackson snorts and almost playfully bumps him with his shoulder. “Not my fault you left the front door unlocked, Stilinski.”

Fuck this. “I’m leaving.” Stiles stalks back towards the front door, yanking his jacket off the hook and grabbing his shoes. Whipping the open the door, the teen groans loudly, dropping his head back, “you’ve got to be kidding me!”

“What are you bitching about now?” The wolf steps beside him and looks outside, his eyes widen drastically. “Holy shit!”

The lake has officially overflown since they’ve shown up and the driveway is at least three inches deep with water. Jackson’s care looks like it’s barely capable of surviving if it gets too high. Stiles almost cares enough to wonder if they should move it. This fucking storm! Now he’s stuck here with nowhere to go. Yes, he has a jeep, but the road out is no doubt a muddy mess that even Roscoe can’t navigate.

Closing the door and putting his clothes back where they were, Stiles whines, “why would she pick today to do this?” Thinking about the weather his dad forced him to watch this morning. Most cities were calling in downed power lines and massive branches flying through the streets.

She knew this storm was coming. So much so that Lydia even reminded him to wear his boots rather than his sneakers. “I guess I better call Scott, tell him not to come. No use in him getting stuck in the woods like this.” Sures, having his best friend here would make this exceptionally better. But Stiles doesn’t want to break up any fights between a stir crazy Jackson and Isaac. Fishing in his pocket, Stiles pulls out his phone and smashes the call button in annoyance.

“Stiles, hey. I’m sorry I did-” Scott answers on the second ring only to be cut off by Stiles.

“I don’t care if you and Isaac were fucking,” Jackson chuckles at his jab. “Don’t come to Lydia’s. The lake flooded and now Jackson and I can’t leave.”

“Okay,” Scott draws out the word and if Stiles wasn’t mistaken sounds a little confused. Jackson’s brows knit together at the response too. Okay, so it did sound weird then. “I’m sorry you’re stuck there, dude. But maybe this will be a good thing?”

Is he serious? “How the fuck is it supposed to be a good thing to be stuck in a goddamn house with someone who hates my guts?” Stiles’ hand slaps his thigh in exasperation. Not to mention the asshole in question was hotter than hell fire and makes it incredibly hard to be in the same room with him. Not thinking about that when Jackson can smell his chemosignals.

“Well,” Scott drawls, “you did say you had a crush on him.” Stiles blanches and goes stalk still, forgetting how to fucking breathe. Jackson snorts beside him. Stiles is going to kill Scott. “Oh my god! He’s right next to you, isn’t he?”

“I hate you so much right now.” Stiles makes a point to stare at the floor and not at the shuffling wolf beside him. “Well, thanks for getting me killed. Great best friend job, truly. See ya probably never, Scotty.” He promptly hangs up before Scott can answer.

“So,” Jackson purrs and Stiles can’t help but turn and face the wolf. His arms are crossed from where he leans against the wall, one foot propped behind him. Jackson’s face holds that stupid, sexy, douchbag smirk, “you like me?”

He’s not even going to entertain that. Stiles squints at him with his mouth slightly parted. It only makes Jackson chuckle. “I need a drink,” Stiles uses every ounce of self control not to literally run away and back into the kitchen. Sifting through the drawers until he finds the corkscrew, Stiles grabs a bottle. Once the cork is out- that actually had already been opened- Stiles could give fuck all about a glass. He takes a sip directly from the bottle, regretting it at the extensive bitter taste of wolfsbane.

Clearly that one’s for Jackson. He’s courteous enough to slide the wine across the island when Jackson is back in the room. The wolf stares at him as his lips wrap around the mouthpiece and drinks from it, not giving a damn to wipe it after Stiles’ drank first. The other boy just watches before his brain recovers and he opens his own bottle. Setting the cork and opener aside, Stiles grabs the wine and leaves the wolf in the kitchen to go sit in the living room where Lydia keeps the playstation.

Plopping on the couch, Stiles lets himself sink into the cushion and takes several swigs. Actually rather enjoying the slight burn and the warmth that quickly settles in his belly. He can very easily just sit here and watch tv like Jackson doesn’t even exist. Stiles can go to literally anywhere else to be away from the wolf if need be. He cannot believe that Jackson found out he likes him.

Fucking Scott.

It takes a few minutes for Jackson to join him. Stiles already has Supernatural playing and has killed a good third of his wine before the wolf is sitting next to him. Like right next to him. One nervous leg bounce and their thighs or knees will touch. Seriously? Lydia has two couches, a chaise lounge, and two armchairs in her living room. So why is he so close?

Scratch that initial thought. There’s like six other rooms in this big ass house that Jackson could’ve gone to. Why here? Stiles drinks more.

Jackson takes another small sip, looking like he’s barely drank anything from his own bottle before saying, “I have a secret to tell you.”

He fights the eyeroll only just, “what information could you possibly have that I would care about?” Amber eyes stay glued to the flat screen.

“I don’t hate you, Stiles.”

“Oh?” He asks with mock interest. Even though there’s something tickling at his heart that Jackson didn’t call him ‘idiot’ or ‘Stilinski’. He can’t allow himself to fall for the wolf’s tricks. He won’t let the rug get yanked out from under him.

“Quite the opposite actually.”

Stiles snorts and turns to make some smart ass retort. But his ‘yeah right’ gets stuck on his tongue finding Jackson’s face mere inches from his own. He gulps. Clearing his throat, Stiles takes a big sip before putting his bottle on the small table beside him. Too fuzzy and warm to process this, Stiles scooches until he’s pressing against the armrest.

Jackson also places his bottle on the coffee table before sliding closer. Forcing Stiles to half turn into the couch while the wolf puts an arm on either side of him, completely encasing Stiles. “I like you,” he presses further, “a lot.” Jackson leans in until their noses brush, “tell me if you want me to stop.”

Blame the wine. Blame his hormones for not wanting him to stop. Hell, blame everyone and everything, Stiles included. But he does have a massive crush on Jackson. Even though he knows damn well that he shouldn’t. The guy’s a prick. He has no problem letting people know that he’s better than them. Making damn sure to flaunt his money too. As if that makes him hotter or something. It doesn’t.

No, it’s the icy blue eyes that make Stiles want to learn their secrets and harvest the knowledge. The wolf’s stupid jaw that’s perfect and Stiles just wants to bite it. He;s seen Jackson naked numerous times- thank you locker room shower’s forgotten concept of privacy. But god damn, when Jackson smiles- not his asshole smirk, but genuine smile- Stiles’ lungs and knees forget how to function. Despite his actions earlier, the teen is actually pretty happy to be stuck here.

Only acting as though he hates Jackson because he was simply following the wolf’s lead. His eyes flick to Jackson’s bottle of wine- its contents too hard to see in the dark green glass from this distance- and back to hooded baby blues. There’s only two reasons Stiles can believe that this is actually happening right now.

Jackson’s drunk. Because Stiles doesn’t understand the extent in which wolfsbane affects werewolf's tolerance. Which would mean the ex-kanima has no idea what he’s doing and should go sleep it off. Stiles hopes it’s this because the latter is just too painful.

Jackson’s fucking with him. Surely he doesn’t have actual feelings for Stiles. Maybe the wolf found out he’s bi and wanted to tease him about it. Although, something tells him that Danny would murder Jackson if he ever found out. Still. This is Stiles. Lowest on the lacrosse totem pole and not the wolf’s best friend. Is Jackson that cruel though?

Beautiful, parted pink lips get closer, so Stiles whispers, “you’re just drunk,” and turns his head away, hoping that’s the case here. Waiting for the joke to play out.

“I’m really not.” Jackson reaches over to grab his drink. There’s maybe three sips missing when he dangles the bottle for proof. “See?” The wolf puts it back, returning with a smirk and a cocked brow, “now will you let me kiss you?” Jackson chuckles, it’s a breathy sound, but doesn’t make to move closer. Leaving it to Stiles.

He’s not falling for that trap. The prove-to-me-you-want-it-so-I-can-kick-you-down trap by making Stiles lean in. “So you’re fucking with me then?” He should’ve known better.

The other boy looks confused and a little offended. Jackson leans back farther, still sitting close, but no longer in Stiles’ personal space. He actually wants him to come back, but how could he ever tell the wolf that when this is just a game? “Why would I fuck with you about this?” Jackson’s voice is soft and full of so much emotion that Stiles almost believes him.

“Uh, because that’s what you do?” Stiles gestures wildly like it should have been obvious. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that we’re not even friends. You were literally my bully when we were kids. I don’t- and i-it only got worse when I developed a crush on Lydia. Which I get, she was your girlfr-”

“What’s not why I was a dick.” The wolf cuts him off with a shake of his head. Stiles squints an eye at him, mouth still hanging open from the word that didn’t finish. “I was jealous.”

“Why the fuck would you be jealous of me?” Stiles scoffs and Jackson ducks his head with a chuckle. “Lydia never even looked at me while you were together.”

Jackson flashes a bemused grin when he looks back, “I was jealous of Lydia, you idiot.” The name usually bitten out comes with a tone that suggests it’s meant to be a term of endearment.

“Oh, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t fawning over you like your little fan club, okay? My bad. You’re right, you’re incredibly hot and I should’ve stroked your ego by putting you some fucking pedestal-” Jackson swallows whatever other words and the surprised squeak from Stiles’ lips. He stares bug eyed at the wolf’s closed eyes. Jackson presses closer, his hand cupping the other boy’s cheeks while his tongue slides against Stiles’ bottom lip. Entrance isn’t given, he can’t really, Stiles is too shocked to do so.

The wolf pulls away, still holding Stiles’ face, “I didn’t care that you thought she was attractive.” Jackson drops a hand and lifts his hips, pulling one of Stiles’ legs until the human gets the massage and- for some fucking reason- lays on the couch. The wolf’s hips immediately settle into the space created and Stiles can feel just how much Jackson wants this. Him. “I wanted to be the one you had a crush on because of the massive one I have on you.”

That’s a lot to process. If Jackson liked him then- “why did you make my life hell?”

Jackson’s free hand falls to Stiles’ hip, rubbing softly and the other props himself on the armrest behind Stiles’ head. “I didn’t know how to handle the fact that I suddenly like guys. Well, a guy.” The wolf sighs, “Lydia knew and agreed to keep my secret as long as I needed her to. I’m sorry I treated you like that.”

Stiles has never seen him act so soft. Having Derek as an Alpha and a proper back must really be working for Jackson. It makes him charming in a way that his jerk persona never could. Being emotionally balanced and all that.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. And I’ll know if you’re lying. So don’t do me any favors and don’t hide from me either.” The warning is evident. Don’t say it and not mean it. And don’t mean it but not day it. Otherwise he’ll walk. “Will you please, let me fucking kiss you?”

Stiles fists his fingers in the wolf’s shirt- half expecting Jackson to snap at wrinkling his expensive clothes- to push him away or pull him closer, the other boy really doesn’t know. Until his arm moves of its own volition and Jackson’s mouth gets drawn to him.

The wolf chuckles against his lips, “finally.” The hand on his hip grips tighter and the other comes back to his jaw. Jackson tilts his head up to deepen the kiss. Jackson kisses like he wants to swallow Stiles whole. Maybe he does. Maybe Stiles would let him. Panting he pulls away again, and the other teen bites back a whine. “I have one more question and then I promise I’ll shut up.”

The human playfully rolls his eyes, “what is it?”

“Be with me.” Jackson states. Stiles cocks his head to the side with a chuckle, that wasn’t really a question. But his heart skips a beat nonetheless at the implication of the wolf’s words. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Stiles is nodding before the request is completely out of Jackson’s beautiful face. “Fuck yeah, dude.” The wolf breathes out a laugh at the ridiculousness. “Now just kiss me. Please?”

“Whatever you want,” Jackson grins and presses his body in further, claiming Stiles’ lips as his own.

Stiles is now stupidly happy about this storm locking them in Lydia’s lake house. He got a boyfriend out if.

#stackson #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #stiles x jackson #teen wolf #ao3 fic #stacksonweek2021

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wontshutup · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 1 (Time)

Intro Chapter 2

Some notes:

It is messy messy heh.

It is long..I think

It contains season 2 spoilers

The reader is gender neutral.

Sorry If you don't like black coffee. It's for narrative purposes I swear, just bear with me.

You gazed out your window. The sun was rising, clouds clearing the sky, allowing it's light to have a better view of the outside. Soon enough the entire place would be beaming with life, people coming and going. It was warm in contrast to the past couple of days,perfect to go out for a little trip of your area, something to ease your mind and that was just what you were looking for.

Specially after another sleepless night, another nightmare, a haunting memory.

Shaking the feeling from the uncomfortable night you had, you changed out of your sweat damped pajamas. You were quick to be ready, something you picked up from your previous job, never getting out of schedule was crucial and efficiency was key for everything, no detours or anything of sorts, and so you were impeccably dressed and out of the house in less than ten minutes.

The warmth of the sun on your face relaxed your muscles, letting go of a frown you didn't even notice you had been wearing.

Even if the day had just started, even if you were safe, even if everything had stopped, dread was a feeling that accompanied every morning, every step you took, it was the small pleasures like these the ones that helped, they brought you a slight sense of peace. With the warm feeling, you made your way to get breakfast in your favorite café around the area. But there was a feeling, impossible to ignore, that something would happen today.

************************************************************************

The morning light hit the scribbled surface of the desk Five had now used to keep on tracing the equations that long ago didn't fit in the piece of paper anymore.

He was by now, hunched at the side of the desk, legs crossed, writing in the side of one of the desk's drawers. To the slight change of light Five sucked in a breath. He had expected to have at least a minimal idea of how to proceed before dawn, where to go to, and if necessary, who to kill, besides, he would do it anytime if that ensured his family's safety.

"Hmm...Morning ol' man" Klaus's voice stopped him from falling deeper into his negative thoughts.

"Morning Klaus" He answered with a sigh. He turned his gaze towards his brother, deep dark circles under his puffy eyes. "Ooohoh, you look like shit, did you even sleep at all?" Klaus brought up trying his hardest not to break down again, forcing out a sour smirk.

This sight brought a bitter feeling to Five's chest. "Well, one could say the same about you." he answered with a thin-lipped smile.

"Well that... didn't hurt me at all..." he looked past him to the numerical carvings covering the desk. "Got anything yet?"

"Well... I got a couple of options, leads mostly, here and there" He lied and it seemed to work as Klaus straightened a little, a glimpse of hope visible in his eyes. "But staying in bed all day won't get us to any, you know that" he continued raising his voice a little, putting back his usual strong façade.

"Ow c'mon old man!...I know you are right, still..." grunted Klaus, but got up, dragging his feet out of the room. "Seems like we are the only ones awake. I'll put some coffee" he declared and with that disappeared through the door.

"I could really use some of that" Five muttered to himself. Leaning back, he really needed a break, that was what he needed, then again, he didn't knew better for 45 years.

As soon as he said that, Klaus popped his head inside the room, Five turned to look at him, already knowing what he would say.

"There isn't any coffee" Five declared tiredly, to which Klaus nodded saddly.

"Yeah...But fear not, I saw a small café down the street on our way here, bet it is already open."He said, as if trying to cheer Five up...also himself. "Lemme just...-he sighed- I am going to fix this mess of a face, you should do that too" and with that, he made his way out of the room.

***********************************************************************

The ringing of the doorbell announced your entrance to the place, the smell of freshly brewed coffee flooding your senses as you inhaled deep perceiving a tinge of....sugar glaze? Whatever it was, it was sweet, painting a soft smile on your features This is going to be a good day.

"Y/N!" Greeted one of the new baristas, he was a very bright person, he had been here for about a week but he already learned your name "The usual right?" This made you smile wider, he hadn't even been taking any orders the previous days and he already knew your order? "Yes please" you said while reaching for your wallet. "Mmmm, Would you please remind me what the usual is?" He said slightly embarrassed.With the wallet in hand, you raised your face, a laugh scaping your lips in return. Slipping the exact amount of money you were paying, you slid it across the counter, getting a tad closer to him, as he reached for it and half-whispered your order to him. "An individual berry pie and a strong, black coffee".

"Black? As in bitter black coffee?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, I like it better that way" You simply answered.

"Oook then" he said with, lightly denying with his head in disbelief. He then recomposed himself with a sense of determination. "An individual berry pie and a strong, black coffee it is!" that was a little unnecessary but, his vitality was captivating in a way, you missed being like that, mentally that is. "Want me to take it to your table lovely?" oh now he was being cocky, you just smiled at it.

"Someone's making up for tips aren't they?"You told him lightly.

"Well, a little extra cash never hurt nobody." He said, brushing off the comment. "So, should I?"

"Yes, please" and with that, you left the counter. You wondered, if he actually knew you, if he would be as chatty as he just had.

*************************************************************************************

The place wasn't very far but it felt miles away, the silence between the brothers making the walk heavy.

Five just kept on thinking on ways to get them back, or out of this, to just fix it all, in a way to keep them all safe. He hoped Klaus had bought the story of him having some answers, he needed them to trust him, if they didn't that would most definitely play against them. He had already known the consequences of having his family in disagreement or scattered, he, THEY, couldn't afford to get into a confrontation between them.

His mind just didn't seem to stop for a second, he knew the laws of time well enough and everything around him, in this precise timeline, bound him to fail every time. He didn't want to rush to conclusions but at this point, he was convinced they needed a miracle. HE needed a miracle.

The ringing of the entrance bell got him out of his thoughts, eyes shutting up, examining the place. He inhaled deeply, the scent of coffee bringing him a very slight sense of comfort. Maybe things weren't that bad, are they? They are until proven otherwise. He shouldn't let his guard down.

"Ok now, let's see what we'll have...I am taking hummm the french grilled cheese and a cappuccino...and you?" Klaus examined the menu in front of them as they got in the line."Let me guess, a black coffee. I don't know what's with you man, maybe add a little bit of sweetness sometimes, your bitter soul could use some"

Five scoffed. "The thing here Klaus is that black coffee allows it to be served and consumed fast, simple, no need to make a fuss out of a simple cup of coffee. Some things serve their purpose just as they are" he eyed his brother "but that's something you are too young to understand."

"An individual berry pie and a strong black coffee it is!" the barista said in an unnecessarily loud tone, causing Five to scrunch his nose.

"Well seems they are. Are you really suggesting people who like black coffee are old? I think you people are just bitter.. " Klaus told his brother while signaling to the teenager who was now making their way towards a table.

Now, in any situation, Five would've simply ignored it, he knew he had better things to pay attention to than just a mere teenager, however, they seemed oddly familiar.

They carried themselves in a way that was way beyond their years, their appearance was one of a simple young person, just about their late teens, somebody who would naturally be beaming with life, but their body language, their eyes, they suggested as if they had gone through an exhausting life, a long life. Those eyes, he had seen them countless times. Where?

As they made their way towards the counter, he didn't tear his gaze from the teenager, scrutinizing their figure, their every move, the way they scanned the book before them, their hands went up to their scalp and tore lightly at their hair constantly, nervously.

******************************************************************************************

"Hey kid."

"Don't" they said in a warning tone, their eyes never leaving the envelope before them.

"Just stop that already, the hair pulling, it's making me anxious" he declared visibly irritated, or was it bothered?

"Making YOU anxious? I am making the great Five anxious?" they retorted mocklingly followed by a snicker. Their perfect young skin wrinkling at it's corners, and in contrast, wise eyes looked at him. "Well then I shall not bother you anymore Old man"

******************************************************************************************* Then it clicked.

"Hey, you've been staring awful long towards them, you look like a creep. An old creep" Klaus noted. Before turning towards the cashier. "Hey! so, I will take.......

With a quick step, Five made his way towards the teenager, heart pounding in his ears. If it is who he thought it was there might just be a way to set things on the right track.

His miracle. He prayed they were.

*****************************************************************************************

As you waited for your order at a small table you took out a book you have been carrying around, when opening the page you left on. You leaned in on the book, trying to concentrate in the narrative, noting every single little detail that had been written differently from the original. Not long ago, you were able to find a couple of differences here and there on some books, movies, plays, and numerous pieces of media that had been made after 1963 till now, pieces you knew very well, changed, even in the slightest details, from the ones you had seen previously. A word, a dot, a whole different scene in some. You knew that something had gone down, that explained the fact the entire world was still standing April the 3rd, 2019, yet, you didn't know how much and if for better or worse, you had decided to keep away from whatever had caused it. It wasn't your business, not anymore.

You had been so deep in thought, eyes scanning the pages so quickly you weren't even actually aware of the plot, anxiety once again filling your body, slowly opaquing the brightness in which your day had started. And just like the previous night, your figure started curling into itself. Shoulders rose hovering over the table, your shadow darkening the page, you started pulling at your hair for some sense of reality, this had always been of help to that throughout your life. It had been pointed out to you, you needed to stop, yet it kept you steady, anchored.

"Y/N?" A young voice interrupted your train of thought, thankfully. Shutting your book you raised your gaze to be met by a young man, a teenager, around your physical appearance, the smell of coffee mixed with the aura of desperation he carried and wild green eyes piercing right into yours. Those eyes. The familiarity of it all was unsettling, Commission? after working such a long time for them you knew not to trust easily.

"Who's asking?" you answered with a calm tone, showing no intimidation. Your hand discreetly taking hold of the butter knife in front of you.

"Of course you wouldn't recognize me" He muttered, rolling his eyes. Meaning exactly what? "If you had, you wouldn't even think about trying that" he said eyeing the knife. This made you tighten your grip on it, whoever he was, he meant no good. But you let him speak anyway. He straightened himself, adjusting his blazer as if to look taller.

" Alright kid" he sighed out, reading your reaction. You pursed your lips in distaste for the word that was used towards you, you narrowed your eyes at him, taking notice of his expression, his tone, he said "kid" as if he knew it would tick you off. He looked at you intently, giving you enough time to recall him. You dug through your memory, something you tried to avoid for a long time. You thought about getting up and away from him, you didn't need this, not now, not ever again, but you just sat there, holding his gaze. You scanned his features, eyes landing on a very characteristic trait, a dimple. Very familiar. No, it couldn't be.

Then you were back at his eyes, tired, old but young, almost like yours...as if looking in a mirror. So familiar.

You hadn't even noticed you had been holding your breath, the silence getting longer. You sigh, releasing a bit of tension and unwrapping the knife. You reminded yourself there was no reason to fear, not anymore, you had made it clear to everyone back there, even yourself, that you didn't care, you didn't deserve the trouble.

He noticed you let go of the knife, and his expression softened a little. A contrast to his previously imposing posture, but he didn't actually relax. Instead, he seemed eager to approach you. He proceeded with a friendlier tone as if testing if your action was a sign for him to proceed or you to leave.

"Used to work for the Commission, Five"

Hey, So, chapter 1 is here. Hope you liked it and that it made sense somehow?

About the black coffee, Sorry hehe. It is bitter I know but bear with me.

Also, I am trying to make this gender neutral, if by ANY chance I mispronounced your pronouns I apologize, I will keep an eye better for that.

- Milo

#tua #the umbrella academy #tua x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five x reader #five hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #tua spoilers

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minerstatus · 4 years ago

Text

Teyvat’s School for the Gifted

Summary: He's cruel, mean, and sadistic. Lumine cannot fathom why he has the followers he does, but she won't fall into his hands like the rest of them. It was unknown to her at that time how such a stance would cause the biggest uproar the schools ever seen.

This is the silly drama filled high school/college parody AU nobody asked for filled with Lumine not giving a shit and Childe trying to buy his way out of problems.

Ship: Lumine/Childe

Tags: Highschool AU, Enemies to lovers, Slow burn, Jealousy, lots of side ships.

Status: 10/? on Ao3

Chapter 2

She had two options to think about after that ‘encounter’ or whatever you want to call it. Get in line like the rest of the students and eventually ‘hopefully’ her new toy status wears off and she fades into the sea of students. But that would depend on how HE acts after the dinner encounter. And something told Lumine from the way Amber and Barbara reacted to even speaking of the red headed devil he was a force to be reckoned with.

She tossed and turned in the night thinking of different scenarios for the morning.

There were boys like him back home. Maybe not filthy rich, sons of local shop owners, that acted like him. None of them possessed the same air as he did. Being able to part a sea of students just by walking has to be a superpower in itself.

Come to think of it she didn’t even find out where he was from, perhaps she should ask. The more info the better when it comes to defending herself.

She was never one to sit down and take abuse. When she was just in grade school the local boys knew not to mess with her after a few unfortunate incidents. Her mother always told her it was her blonde hair and honey eyes that made her stand out.

It always starts with them testing you. Small things to annoy you, just to see how you react. She would not be able to keep her temper down if that happened. She already had an issue with her mouth as it is.

She turned one final time in the plush bed she had been provided with. The school had made sure even the scholarship students were treated above average. It was impressive, but did little to dampen her jitters.

First day, which means new people and new teachers. Lumine was walked by Amber and Barbara to the faculty building. Razor was found sitting on a bench halfway there. It brought a smile to her face.

Razor had never left Amber’s side the entire night they sat talking. It was girl gossip that Lumine was never into, but enjoyed now that she had some people to actually talk to. Not many people are willing to come to a run-down farm for a sleepover back home. Razor himself didn’t talk much, but Lumine was observant. He sat on her bed and watched her, every action, smile, glance. Lumine was quite interested in understanding what Ambers reservations about him were. She seemed to like him from her perspective.

More questions for later.

A plump woman greeted her at the front desk. She was cheerful, but not like Mrs. Lee was, instead giving off warm motherly tones. Lumine could imagine her doting on all the students she came in contact with.

“Here you are dear.” She handed her a slip of paper with her classes.

“Thanks,” Lumine said quietly as she read the sheet. Alchemy, ancient runes, adventuring 101, history, then finally vision training. She internally laughed at the last class, perhaps they were going to rename it. She pulled on the collar of her school issued cardigan as it threatened to slide off one shoulder.

“Just head out to the academics building Mrs. Lee showed you yesterday and a student will be waiting to guide you to your classes,” The woman told her. Lumine nodded and gave back a genuine smile before turning to leave.

It was easy to pick out the student waiting for her in front of the buildings doors despite the crowds entering and exiting. It was a green haired girl nervously fisting her skirt between fidgeting with her glasses. Two small animal ears poked out from under her main of messy hair. She wore her skirt long, unlike the rest of the student body (and Lumine herself), and covered up with a baggy school issued cardigan like Lumine’s.

“Are you the one waiting for the new girl?” Lumine asked. The girl snapped out of a nervous trance and a blush covered her features.

“Ah! Y-yes,” She stuttered before taking a breath, “Sorry I get nervous easily, my names Sucrose,” she extended a hand.

“Thats a pretty name, I like it,” Lumine said as she returned the handshake. She hoped it might calm her down but Sucrose turned scarlet instead.

“I-I'll walk you to your class,” She mumbled and walked inside. Lumine followed silently, deciding the best course of action was to not embarrass her further.

She led her to a decently sized class of students with a portly teacher standing in the front. He wore robes and a ridiculously oversized wizards' hat. The site was an oddity in Lumines eyes, having only ever had exceptionally plain teachers back home. Sucrose left Lumine at the front of the class as she shuffled over to the teacher, managing to get his attention with a simple clearing of her throat. Lumine decided to inspect the chalk board instead of the students. She didn’t want to know if the red headed asshole was in here yet.

“Ah yes Lumine!” The teacher bellowed and waved her over. She stepped lightly up onto his raised platform as sucrose scurried to her seat in the front row. “My name is professor Rasmodius, take a seat next to Zhongli back there,” He pointed off into the right of the room. Lumines stomach sank at the mention of a familiar name. She dragged herself to the back of the class and slid into the empty stool next to him.

They made eye contact and she swore she could see the gears turning in his mind before he spoke.

“He’s not in this class,” He said in monotone.

Lumine choked on her own spit, “w-what?” she asked him.

“He’s not here, if that is what you are worried about,” He smiled down at her sweetly. Lumine felt her face heat up.

“I don’t care if he's here or not,” She quickly recovered and crossed her arms.

“Hm,” He put a hand on his chin, “You had the same gaze as most other new females.”

“Yes, well sorry for being nervous.”

“Perhaps I have made a wrong assumption, I apologize,” He turned his body to her, “Zhongli of the Wangsheng funeral parlor.”

Lumine fumbled a bit at his words. Was it normal to greet someone with your name and what company you hail from? She eyed him wearily for a moment then decided to screw it. Not like they wouldn’t find out if she lies.

“Lumine of a very poor farm outside of Mondstadt.”

He chuckled in a low deep tone. Lumine felt her façade falling as her heart sped up.

“Sorry, perhaps too formal?” He asked.

“You talk like you are speaking to a business partner,” she told him honestly.

“Ive been told that before, even by my friends,” He admitted. For the first time Lumine’s lips quirked into a teasing smile.

“Alright class today we will be looking into the mythical potions of Esteria! page 103!” The teacher commanded. The room filled with the sounds of turning pages.

“I didn’t get a book?” Lumine questioned.

“You will more than likely get them at some point today,” Zhongli told her as he slid his book over between them, “here share mine.”

“Thanks,” She mumbled, dipping behind her hair to hide her blush. Perhaps her friends were right, most of the group wasn’t that bad.

Okay maybe they were wrong, at least two out of the four were very very bad. She had not seen the infamous Childe today, but after alchemy Zhongli was very kind to walk her to the next class. Relieving a very thankful, yet worried, sucrose from her job.

They talked about small things, mostly how the school was going, what she thought of it, what kind of things she did back in Mondstadt. To her surprise Zhongli seemed genuinely interested in the day to day life of a poor person. He was awkwardly polite with everything, but had a sincerity to him that he wore on his sleeve.

There was just one sneaking suspicion she had regarding the man. How on earth does a funeral parlor have enough money to send their son to this school AND be the top of the food chain. Surely these boys were flooded with money otherwise the attention wouldn’t be as drastic. There were even glares tossed her way as they walked to the next class.

It was nice to have the attention, he had a smooth deep voice that sent her insides into a flurry. That was until they came upon Xiao. The boy was shorter than his tall geo counterpart and crossed his arms at their arrival. He glared at her as Zhongli added another sentence to their conversation. The words fell on deaf ears as Lumine tried to fight back a snarky remark. She had done nothing to earn this glare from him and it was irking her.

“Keep glaring like that and your face will freeze that way,” She blurted out.

“What?” He hissed at her.

“Ah,” Lumine back tracked, she didn’t mean to speak her thoughts like that, “you just look awfully peeved is all,” she decided on. He narrowed his eyes at her.

Day one, mouth already got her in trouble, nice.

They had a standoff for a few moments before Xiao conceded with a huff and turned into the room.

“Don't worry about him, he's weary of newcomers,” Zhongli said from besides her. She looked up to him for reassurance and was once again met with an honest gaze and smile.

“I-” She began to say and stopped to think about it, “I trust you.”

Even if he was lieing, what harm would come of it? She loses a friend she never even had?

Ancient runes was a snooze fest as expected. She sat next to an incredibly ordinary looking girl who should have hissed like a cat when Lumine sat down. It would have made the look she gave her less comical.

But things perked up in Adventuring 101. The class was useless to someone like her. It was basically preaching about basic safety the entire time. Don’t touch pryo slimes, they hurt. Don’t go off fighting electro monsters in the rain, that also hurts. Always have food rations and medical potions on you!

Blah.

She didn’t need this info, but it was a required class. Get a taste of everything before heading off to the college and decide what classifications you want. Stupid rules some adult made to torture the youngins.

It was fifteen minutes into the class. There was a saving grace, she had a seat next to Zhongli. He shared his book with her again and was polite and overly cordial as always. She assumed the class was full with everyone in attendance. There were a few empty desks but students could be sick or the class could have fewer students than desks.

Then HE walked in, opening the door without a care in the world, loudly. There was this beaming, disgustingly fake, smile plastered to him. A girl followed him inside, checking her makeup on a small compact mirror. They seated themselves in the empty spots adjacent to herself and Zhongli.

The teacher scolded him as he walked, but he ignored it with a shrug. His entire demeanor made her want to mop the floor with his pretty face. Just like the boys back home. She made a point to keep her eyes forwards or at the text in front of her. Not wanting to give him any ideas. There was a cold chill crawling up her spine again, he was staring.

The class continued onwards. The teacher quickly dropped the subject of publicly shaming Childe for walking in to class late. They were moving on to something at least slightly interesting she didn’t know too much about. How to read the stars and sun for location and time. It was something she never needed as she stayed close to home.

It was useful to her so she took out her notepad and began to scribble down some text out of the book as she teacher lectured. She made it a few words in before the girl next to Childe giggled in that high pitch way girls do when they are trying to impress a man.

She dared a side glance over to the table and noticed the girl enamored by him. Getting a full view of the back of her head as Childe whispered sweet nothings to her. He sensed her gaze and looked up, making eye contact. She went back to her work before the girl could turn, clearing her throat.

He was testing her; she could feel it. Between yesterday's stare down and this there was no mistaking it.

“Something wrong?” Zhongli asked her in a low whisper.

“Just a little difficult to get work done with so many distractions,” She growled.

“You will grow accustom soon,” He told her. She laughed quietly at his choice of words. Someone needed to remind him he was still a teenager.

The entire period passed with flirtatious whispers and laughs flying.

And not, one. God. Damn. Time, did the teacher say anything to the two culprits. Although something told her Childe was the true mastermind behind the distraction. She tried her best, she really did, but Lumine was never great at keeping her temper in control. Not when it came to completely asinine males making a side show out of a class.

Her pencil lead snapped on her paper.

“Shit,” she whispered.

“It seems you have snapped your lead,” Zhongli murmured. She refrained from calling him captain obvious. There was a chuckle to her right, this time clearly mocking and directed at her, she herself snapped. She turned and with pin point accuracy threw the pencil at her tormentor. The eraser bounced off his forehead, sending the object into an unknown destination in the room.

The smile fell from his features and they traded deadly glares. The girl sitting with him was busying herself cooing over him asking what's wrong. Oblivious to the events that just unfolded. Zhongli of all people fucking laughed.

She turned her glare into a smug grin reading ‘what are you gunna do about it? now shut the hell up’ and turned back to her work. She leaned back and crossed her arms.

“Well played young lady,” Zhongli whispered to her.

The option of fading into the background had vanished.

#chilumi #genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #genshin fanfic #childe #Lumine #genshin impact fanfiction

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jojo-fantasy-aus · 4 years ago

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Fantasy Au!

Joksuke x F!Reader-ch 6.

It Takes Two.

I call this chapter "please dont bottle up your feelings"- enjoy!

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You had only ever seen royals eat such extravagant, foreign food. Things like that just weren't on the menu for the working class unless it was a holiday or festival. Even then, you still had never had any yourself, until now that is.

Rows upon rows of lunch courses were laid out in front of you on the rosewood table. You were already salivating, this was quite a feast, and a delicious one at that. The savory smells that filled the air could make a man go mad. You weren't the only one stuffing your face, but you certainly were the only one out of your original group to restrain yourself just enough to not look like a feral squirrel. Shigetchi laughed as he looked over the table.

"I hope you enjoy this Josuke, Okuyasu. Because it's the only free meal you're going to get from me!"

You smile a bit at the small man's exclamation, but Josuke and Okuyasu only groan.

"Come on man, aren't you a little too rich to be so stingy?" Okuyasu huffs, mouth still full of food. Josuke nods aggressively in support, chewing avidly on his lunch. Shigetchi chuckles, and you almost flinch when he grabs his fork a little too violently. It was just a way for him to bluff retaliation, you were sure, but even so the action had you on edge. It was normal, considering the events in the past week.

The men's conversation became a little muffled, and you had almost lost your appetite. Simply pawing at the food with your fork. Life really had gotten a bit strange, hadn't it?... Would it ever go back to normal again? You had tunnel vision, dead set on your plate. You were starting to feel defenseless as you recited everything over again in your head. No wonder you were so jumpy, you were living your worst nightmare. One in which you were constantly in peril and haven't been able to do shit about it. You really weren't hungry at all anymore, anxiety had filled your stomach instead of food.

"Miss? Did you hear me?" You snapped your head up, and everyone was staring at you. You swallowed the food you had just now realized you were still chewing, and nervously set down your fork. You had spaced out for a bit longer than you realized. You noticed before you spoke that Josuke had tensed, avoiding eye contact with you.

"Sorry, I'm a bit out of sorts today. Could you repeat that?" Shigetchi nodded. Wiping his face with his napkin.

"I've invited the rich man that you are investigating over for tea this afternoon. I have vowed to him not to discuss any of our business operations, but that doesn't mean I can't plant a spy." He started to twirl his fork in between his fingers, setting his elbow down on the table to rest his head in his hand. He had such bad manners for a man with so much money.

"Okuyasu would stand out right away, and Josuke has no clue on how to properly serve tea, or food for that matter. You are the only person that can properly get the job done without raising suspicion, or be legally tracked back to me."

"Oh," You murmured. He wanted you to spy? Such a thing was so adamantly discouraged at the Palace, that you almost immediately rejected the idea. But you knew he was right. This was definitely something you could do quite well. You pursed your lips as you thought about it, you would finally have a foot in the door of finding the princess, instead of just watching others help the cause. You were about to answer when Josuke spoke up.

"I don't think she should do it." Your brows furrowed at Josuke, Shigetchi looked confusedly at him. Okuyasu was still eating.

"You took a vow not to speak about anything you discuss with this man, correct? So what do we do if he finds out She's a spy. Shigetchi, this too dangerous in the long run." He was right. You knew he was right. It was just so frustrating to realize. If you did this- you would finally be useful again. You would stop being completely useless to the team you had devised. If anything you had been more of a nuisance than a teammate all this time anyway.

You suddenly felt determined to see this plan through. Josuke was sweet, and smart, and kind, but you couldn't play it safe like he wanted you to. You told him that already, earlier today. You realized that in a flash of anger. You had to do this. If not for the princess, for yourself.

"Everything that we are doing is dangerous, Josuke. Why would this be any different than anything we've done before?" You hadn't meant for your voice to raise, but you were much too angry to apologize. The food was long forgotten by now, even Okuyasu had stopped eating. Josuke raised an eyebrow at you.

"It's different because it's you. You, all alone without any sort of defense in case things go wrong-"

"I'm not defenseless!" You shouted, standing straight up and slamming your hands on the table. You were shaking from the adrenaline. Why did you do that? It was like all the emotion from the past few days started to catch up with you in one awful moment. All three men looked at you, suddenly very concerned. You felt the need to leave before you were flooded with shame and regret. You looked straight at Shigechi.

"I'll do it. Let me know the details later, I'm afraid I must take my leave." Just like that, you had stormed out of the dining hall and into the corridor.

Your vision had started to tear up. Why had you snapped so suddenly? It was so hard to understand everything that was going on, besides the fact that the people around you clearly didn't have faith in you. Your heart was pounding in your ears. Whatever this was, it wasn't healthy. You used to sit with Yukako for hours, and you would just let each other unload, obviously it hadn't been possible to do that lately. You took a deep breath, desperately trying to keep yourself from crying. Josuke's call of your name cut clear through the air, but you kept walking. He called again, this time right by your side. Damn him and his cardio.

"I never wanted to imply you were- I'm just- worried about you!" You snorted, speed-walking faster. Josuke easily kept up.

"I told you this morning that I was not going to go home. That also meant that I was not going to just sit back and do nothing while you and Okuyasu are out working your asses off to find Yukako!" He huffs at your words, eyes casted downwards.

"I'm sorry. I know you've already given me your answer, but I just don't think doing this without m- without at least one of us is a good idea." You didn't want to talk to him anymore. You were starting to feel bad for yelling again, but it was understandable right? You had a reason to be angry, didn't you? After a silent split second Josuke called your name again, and grabbed your wrist.

You didn't know if it was the tug from him stopping dead in his tracks and pulling on your arm, or how overwhelmed you were. It was just a reflex. You knew it was him but for a moment it felt like that disgusting man again-

The slap stung your palm long after it was over and done with. You didn't know what to do. You just stood there, wide eyed at your own actions, looking at Josuke. He stared back, heart-wrenching incredulous eyes looking through you.

"I- I'm so, so sorry. I didn't- I don't-" Tears started to well over in your eyes. You didn't know what to say. Josuke didn't let go of your arm, gently holding it in his grasp.

"It's okay. I'm sorry for tugging on you like that." The tears started to come faster, and your face started to scrunch up in an ugly cry. Josuke softly pulled you into an embrace, testing the waters almost, and you couldn't help but melt into his warmth. You held onto him like he was your lifeline, your bodies pressed as close together as they could.

After that, Josuke realized that part of the reason you were acting so strange had to be the lack of control you had. There wasn't really any other explanation to it. He could see how overwhelmed you were, and made a decision for both of your sakes. He would follow you back to Shigetchi's tonight, and you would never know.

Maybe he should've listened to his mom when she suggested he be a doctor.

You felt much, much better after crying. Of course, the guilt of this morning still remained. Shigetchi probably thought you were crazy though. After taking the few hours in-between lunch and the meeting to calm yourself, you were confident you would do this job perfectly.

You had never blended in so well before. Serving the dishes and the tea was a piece of cake, you were a bit smug that all of those years serving the royal cook's food with hard-earned poise and grace finally came in handy.

The man that Shigetchi had over for tea was Viscount Brimsey, a man you had seen quite often in fact. One word to describe him thoroughly would be, "royal ass-kisser". It seemed that his reputation at the castle followed him here as well.

"You've quite outdone yourself, Yangu. These scones are quite divine," you fought the urge to roll your eyes as you served the tea with ease.

"Thank you," Shigetchi smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Sarah, my cook, has always done an excellent job."

"I'm jealous, the old maid at the villa has started to get sloppy with the preparations. Just last week she…"

The fine China teapot gently landed on the tray with a clink, and you carefully picked it up and set it on the trolley. The Viscount paid you no mind as you rolled the tray out of the room. Shigetchi gave you a slight nod as you left. You knew what you were to do. No one noticed when you left the door open by a crack.

You stood there for quite a bit, and it was definitely quite boring. You busied yourself with checking on the food and tea still on your trolley, trying to look like you weren't peeping in to any other servant that would pass by.

"...The economy lately…"

"...have you been to the theatre recently?..."

"...my rose garden is…"

You had been hunched over the trolley for so long your back started to hurt. Was this truly the man you were supposed to investigate? If he was in any way dangerous, it certainly didn't show in his conversation. It was getting rather difficult to not fall asleep standing. You could hear someone's footsteps come down the hallway, and stood up straight immediately, starting to place more tea cakes and sweets on two more serving plates.

"The princess was always a brat anyway." It was the Viscount's coach and footman, walking down the marble-floored hallway in their disgusting, muddy boots. Were they seriously talking about such a sensitive topic so openly? You glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

"It's no wonder she was grabbed instead of the king. The little bitch had it coming." They both let out a loud laugh, and you tried to hold your temper. Yukako wasn't a brat, nor was she as patient as you were. She would've socked them in the jaw by now.

"Did you see her face when-" The first plate slipped from your hands by complete accident. Fuck. You frantically bent over to pick up the glass and ruined food. "Did you see her face," that had to be talking about her while at the Festival, right? The words had caught you so off guard that you ruined a good lead. Damn it. Maybe you should be investigating this guy and his employees after all.

The men had approached you fast, looming over your bent form, but instead of looking intimidating, they looked nervous.

"Sorry miss, did you, uh, hear our conversation just then?" You had to think quickly.

"Veux-tu manger?" The men were taken aback for a moment, and then started to laugh.

"Just another dumb foreigner." That was a close one. You really said "would you like to eat?". Thank God they didn't understand your awful French pronunciation. The men waved at you, and opened the big door that led to the sunroom. You could hear Shigetchi and the Viscount stop conversation immediately.

"Sorry, my Liege. Your daughter is requesting your presence at the villa." The Viscount chuckled. Wiping his face and standing from the table, tipping his head at Shigechi.

"I'm afraid I must go. Thank you for your gracious meal, Yangu." Shigetchi nodded, giving his regards as the Viscount left. You curtsied slightly as he passed you no matter how disgusted you felt. The conversation overheard was more than enough to place blame on the man. You held back a smirk, a feeling of triumph rising in your chest.

You hoped Yukako and Koichi would hold on just a bit longer. You were on the road to finding them.

#josuke higashikata #diamond is unbreakable #jjba #josuke x reader #josuke imagine #josuke headcanons #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba x reader #it takes two fic

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starlightsearches · 4 years ago

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Scoundrel

So my inbox decided to delete every request that I had, but lucky for me I actually copied them all down this time! Here’s three requests that I’ve combined into one story, hope you all love it!

Anonymous asked: Lol you reblogged a head cannon from @historymiss about kylo and his “scoundrel” skills and it is just so funny to think about, I’d love to read a fic by you about it. Maybe reader is some type of smuggler being hunted down by the first order and they get away but not before they impress each other with shady skills?

Anonymous asked: Ooh! How about a prompt? “It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong” reader to kylo?

Anonymous asked: kylo x reader “is that blood?” “... no?”

Requests are closed ✨

Kylo Ren x Reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: some angst, language, mentions of sex pollen 😏, mild horniness, not a happy ending 🙁

There's no light at all in your hiding place, just the hard press of metal against your spine and the sound of your own breathing. You close your eyes, not that it changes the much, fill your lungs as quietly as you can manage and then hold your breath, listening closely to the sounds of footsteps as they move past you, the modulated mumbles of storm troopers as they head towards the exit of your ship. It's not easy to track their movements just by sound, but you don't think they found your stash, thank gods. If they all get off your fucking ship, you can be on your way in no time.

"Search completed, sir. No sign of the fugitives." You can just barely hear one of the troopers report to some silent supervisor, and your mind catches on the last word. Fugitives? Who were they looking for? Some people would pay a lot of credits for information like that. Despite its chaotic beginnings, today could still be a lucky one. You press your ear closer to the false wall that you hide behind, furrowing your brow in concentration.

"Complete searches of the rest of the ships, they’re here somewhere," there's a second voice now, and as soon as you hear it, ice floods your veins. You'd recognize that voice anywhere. Shit.

Your previous confidence in your hiding place leaves immediately, but you can't move, your sense of self-preservation still convinced that he might slip up this time. You're startled from that delusion almost immediately by a loud pounding sound, and then the panel covering your little shelter gives way to blinding light.

You land on your hands and knees with a loud smack, the impact driving spikes of pain through your bones. Someone—a trooper you assume—is on you immediately, yanking your hands behind your back. As soon as your eyes adjust, he's in your line of sight, filling your view with an expansive blackness.

"You again," he's crouched down beside you, the words almost quiet enough to be a whisper, and said with a kind of reverence that might only exist in your imagination. It's been a long time since you last saw Kylo Ren, but it feels like no time at all.

"We can't keep meeting like this, Commander," you reply, coating your words in a healthy level of sarcasm to hide any trembling that could break through, "People might think that you're in love with me."

He doesn't respond, because he never does, but he lifts his hand to your face, rubbing his thumb roughly against your cheek, the seam of his glove scraping against your skin. "Is that blood?" he asks in the same even tone, raising his hand to eye level; you can just barely make out the dark red smear against the black leather.

" ... No?" And then after a beat, "well, it's not mine." Nothing changes in the man before you, but you hear a modulated snicker from behind, and the trooper mutters an apology when Ren shoots him what you have to assume would be a glare if you could see the face behind his mask.

"Search them," Kylo Ren stands to his full height, and you follow close behind, yanked to your feet unceremoniously by the trooper. Some might find this situation humiliating, being cuffed and patted down on your own ship, but you're able to ignore it rather easily, choosing instead to keep your eyes trained on Ren. He returns your stare, his arms crossed tight over his broad chest, fingers flexing rhythmically against the swell of his biceps. No, being handled like this doesn't bother you at all, but you think it might bother him.

Your weapons are removed one by one, and it's a few minutes before the trooper is satisfied, attaching the cuffs to your wrists and giving you one final shove to signal the end of his search. "Should I take them back to the command shuttle?"

Ren stays silent, and your mind kicks in to lightspeed as you try to come up with a plan. If they got you off this ship, your chances of escape would diminish greatly. You'd need to stay aboard, but how? Fighting both of them wouldn't be an option, especially not weaponless. You'll have to make this up as you go and hope things play out in your favor.

"Leave the prisoner with me for interrogation," he says to the trooper, and you stifle a sigh of relief, "I'll need to search the ship again." You try to keep your emotions in check as you watch the trooper walk towards the exit, following him around the corner and out the door with your eyes. It's just you and Ren now. You could make this work.

He breaks the silence as soon as you're alone, plucking the thoughts right out of your head, "you're not going to escape."

"That's funny, I think you said that the last time we ran into each other," you keep your reply light, your tone laden with a healthy dose of mockery so he won't look any deeper. It's not easy to play tricks on a man with powers like his, which is why you've got to keep him distracted, uncomfortable. After all, this is your arena—he'll have to play by your rules.

He takes you by the shoulder, pushing you further into the ship with a shove that's probably meant to be harsh, but there's no heat behind it. "You can't get away from me," he says, more emphatically. His fingers press deeper into your shoulder, a heavy grip to emphasize his point, like that’s all it would take to keep you with him. He should really know better by now.

You shrug out of his grasp with a little twist, turning to face him in the small corridor, chest to chest, your bound arms sandwiched between you, your own reflection staring back at you through the eyes of his helmet. "I wouldn't count on it, Commander. It's become a hobby of mine to prove you wrong." Your voice is barely a whisper, the heat of your breath creating little clouds of fog on his mask—you're closer than most would dare to be. It's dangerous, the way you get in his space, dangerous how you challenge him, but gods, do you like it.

He chooses to ignore you again, refusing to take the bait, and instead continues his path down the hall, pulling you towards the cargo hold. It's mostly empty right now, with a few scattered transport bins littering the corners—just empty enough to fool any asshole who might try to poke their nose into your business.

"What are you hauling?" Ren asks, unconvinced by your sparse collection, searching the hold with slow, methodical movements.

"I don't know if you could tell, but I'm actually between jobs at the moment," you kick a crate of broken blasters to sell your lie, but it's clear he's not convinced as he walks the length of the hold, searching for any signs of hidden compartments. You take the chance to look around, as well, seeing if there’s anything that might aid your escape, or at least help you get the damn binders off. It’s a waste of time—there’s nothing in here for you, and even if there was, you wouldn’t be able to get to it without Ren noticing. You look back at him, just for a moment, checking to see if he’s distracted enough to ignore your scheming. By then it’s too late—you hear the sound of the panel lifting first, and it's only a second before he's opening the crate hidden beneath, too quick for the cry that rips from your chest but gets caught on the way out.

"Spice, really?" He reaches a gloved hand towards the container of the innocuous-looking yellow powder and your heart threatens to leap out of your throat, your feet moving towards him of their own accord.

"Don't touch that!" The words finally break free as you throw yourself at him—you don't really have a choice. The impact is hard, hard enough to upset his balance as he stumbles backward, catching you in his grasp, his hands gripping at your shoulders to steady you, too. You’re anchored in his arms, but your breathing is coming hard and fast, the adrenaline making home in your veins even if the danger has passed.

"Afraid I might contaminate your supply?" he whispers the question, the words coming low and mocking through the modulator in his helmet. He thinks it's his turn to get under your skin.

"That's not spice," you say, breathing hard, panic still coursing. "It's a highly potent kind of pollen used to, uh, stimulate arousal. Getting even the smallest amount of it on your skin or in your lungs can create an effect that lasts for weeks." He goes still against you, solid as stone, but you can feel his heartbeat running rampant through his body as he realizes the meaning of your words. Neither of you dare to move, afraid of worsening your already precarious situation, even though you’re well out of reach of the container. The tension has sucked all the air from the room and you stutter, trying to bring it back, "there's a king in the Kazyk sector who pays me good money to haul it for him."

"Is it contraband?" His gaze flits from you back to the powder, and then back again. Even though you can't see them, the pressure of his eyes weighs on you, bringing a heat to your cheeks.

"Depends on who you ask. It is expensive, highly coveted, and notoriously hard to transport. It can cause . . . complications when moved, if you're not careful."

"Complications?" You feel yourself flush, your entire body uncomfortably warm—the temperature control on your ship must be malfunctioning. It's only made worse by your proximity to Ren; you can feel his heat passing through the thick fabric he wears, smothering you.

"Do I need to spell it out for you, Commander?" You had wanted to mock him again, using his title like that, but the whisper that leaves your parted lips is absent of any ridicule, your words so soft and wanton that it sends a shiver up your own spine. You can't help but wonder if he's blushing under the mask—if his thoughts are currently consumed, like yours are, by images of bodies intertwined, heady moans passed between parted lips, his hands—ungloved—exploring every inch of you . . .

Your wrists tug against their restraints, unbidden. It's a good thing that you're still cuffed, because if they weren't, you're not sure what would stop you peeling back those layers he wears, taking off that stupid helmet, finally revealing his face. What would he look like, laid bare before you? What would it feel like to be encircled in his arms with nothing between you but desire?

You ball your fists, fingernails pressing crescents into your palms as you try to remove these thoughts from your mind, forcing yourself out of his grasp with a sharp tug, trying to breathe again. Gods, what is wrong with you? Some of the pollen must have gotten into the air and made its way into your system. You turn back, hoping to confirm your theory, but the little pile of yellow powder sits undisturbed, and the air in the cargo hold is heavy and still.

"Just put the lid back on it. I'm not hauling anything else," you command, and to your surprise, Ren obeys, replacing the cover on the container gently so as to not disturb the powder beneath. He grabs you again, by the arm this time so that he can keep his distance, thank gods, not that it helps you cool off—the heat stays trapped beneath your skin for much longer than you’d care to admit.

He takes you through the rest of the ship, stopping occasionally to open one of the many hidden storage compartments scattered throughout, cracking locks, breaking codes seemingly without even trying. He finds all of them—even the ones you made yourself, ones you were sure nobody would be able to locate without your help. It doesn't matter anyway; you were telling the truth before. You're not hauling anything else.

You lean against the wall, watching as he rips away the edge of another panel in the floor, finding it empty, and you roll your eyes. "Not to be a dick, but can't people like you just feel if I'm harboring fugitives on my ship?" He looks up at you, and you hope he can’t see the way you’re still shaking, hope he can’t feel any of the shame you’re trying so desperately to hide. You need him off your ship—no more complications, no more interference.

"People like me?" he asks, with the slightest hint of laughter, just barely detectable behind the modulation. So he does feel it—your embarrassment, the leftover yearning that you can’t seem to elude.

You roll your eyes again, as if the movement itself could create the nonchalance you’re trying so hard to mimic. You want to be annoyed at him. You want to be unaffected, cool despite what just happened. But it’s not working. "You know what I mean. Couldn't you just sense them?"

"I know you're not hiding the people we're searching for,” he admits, sliding the floor panel back in place, “and I found all of these- "he gestures vaguely down the hall, the evidence of his handiwork littered along the corridor "-on my own." It’s hard to be sure when you can’t see his face, but you think he might be smug about it all.

You furrow your brow, thoughts humming, trying to piece together this interaction in a way that makes sense. When that fails, you resort to mockery.

“. . . So you've been ripping my whole ship apart for what? Just to show off?” Your heart jumps when you see him freeze—the physical changes slight, but not beyond your notice—a slow smile spreading across your face. You’ve got him now.

“You are trying to show off, aren’t you? I have to admit it, I’m impressed,” he stays where he is as you move closer, the visor of his mask trained on you, his muscles taut like he’s ready to run. Who would have thought that, in this scenario, you’d be the dominant one?

“That’s not-” he stutters—you can hear it through the vocoder, and you laugh, just a short, breathy thing. You shouldn’t let yourself get distracted from the goal at hand, but this is much more fun.

“No need to be embarrassed, I tend to have that effect on people. Everybody loves a scoundrel.” You flash him a cheeky smile, and he bristles, folding his arms over his chest again and standing to his full height. You can see the tension in him, practically pulling him apart. He wants to run from you. He wants to stay.

“Not me,” he says like he wants to believe it, but you can’t miss the way his voice shakes.

“You especially, Commander. The Order and its people are far too proper for someone like you. There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life.”

The silence that follows your words fills the space, leaving little room for air. Maybe you’re hallucinating, but he might inch closer, his fingers twitching, maybe to reach for the latches in his helmet, maybe to bury them in your hair.

The sound of pounding footsteps against the durasteel floor shocks the breath back into your lungs, but even as the trooper dashes into view, Ren doesn’t pull away.

“Sir, there’s a problem,” the trooper huffs, and after a pause, Ren rips his eyes away from you. The trooper hesitates, now, realizing that he’s barged in on what probably looks to him like a private moment. “Uh, there’s a small band of Resistance fighters attacking the troops, we believe they’re here for the fugitives.”

Ren’s immediately on the move, his cloak snapping from the speed of his departure, and you and the trooper glance at each other for a moment before they follow after Ren, and you do too, curious to see the commotion. Despite his limited headstart, Ren seems to have vanished from the corridors of your ship, no trace of him at all, the only sounds echoing through the hallway coming from your own footsteps and the soft jingle of the trooper’s movements.

The jingling. You’re almost to the door before you realize what that sound means, and you want to smack yourself. You can see the keys now, out of the corner of your eye. Escape had never been closer, and you almost missed it. You choose to ignore the voice in the back of your mind that reminds you about what had caused you to become so distracted. You don’t have time to think about it now. You have a plan.

The trooper startles when you yelp, tripping over nothing before you go sprawling, landing on the floor with a clang. You watch him from the ground as he stares back at you, hesitant, glancing towards the exit before his eyes fall to you again.

“A little help?” You sell it, make it look like a struggle as you try and fail to find your feet, but the trooper still doesn’t move just yet, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Then he takes the bait.

“Thanks,” you mumble under your breath, falling into him as he pulls you to your feet, bracing yourself against the duraplast of his uniform before pulling the keys from his belt with a deft tug and tucking them into your palm.

He doesn’t even notice, running as soon as you're stable, and you follow behind, spinning the key in your palms angling it just right until you hear the snap of release. You catch the cuffs, trying to limit the noise they make as they fall from your sore and stiff wrists. You’re free.

The trooper exits the ship immediately, off to help his comrades, but Ren is still by the door, deflecting the odd blaster fire. Most of the fighting is far past your ship, on the other side of the yard, but one or two stragglers have decided to aim his way. You watch from around the corner, listen as the sounds of fired shots ends with strangled cries. You move in behind him, getting close, holding the cuffs in place as best you can.

“Looks like the fight has moved on without you,” you announce your presence, and he turns to look at you, but your eyes are on the saber, burning bright and wicked by his side. “Impressive, but not very useful long range. Blasters are more . . . versatile.”

He gives you a hard look—a searching look—before raising his hand, the fingers flexing in his gloves. Your blaster, the one the trooper pulled off of you earlier, nudges past you on its way to his hand and you jump out of the way, hardly noticing the smooth movement with which he fires, the bodies dropping even from this range as he shoots into the crowd with perfect accuracy.

You’ve never seen him in action like this before. Despite the number of times you had come face to mask with Kylo Ren, he’s never used his powers on you. Something about the realization is frightening.

“We need to leave,” he says, interrupting your thoughts, “back to my shuttle.” He’s looking at you again, head inclined, like it’s a question instead of a demand. And the stupidest part of you wants to go. You force that part of yourself to be quiet.

He deactivates his saber, drops your blaster and reaches for you, his hand stretched out the same way it had only a few moments ago, but there’s none of the same power behind it; you still feel the pull.

“I know,” he says, and the cuffs fall from your hands because there’s no point in hiding anymore, “but . . .you still could-” he swallows hard enough for you to hear through the modulator, “-we still could . . .”

You walk towards him, your footsteps slow and even and he trembles, his fingers shaking again for an entirely different reason, and they don’t stop, not when they meet your waist, not when your hands grip both sides of his helmet, trying to find a hold against the cold metal.

“I’ll tell you what, Commander,” you say with a whisper, pulling him closer, close enough to rest your forehead against his, “I’ll go with you . . . the next time you catch me.”

It’s a smooth movement, unexpected—first you pull him close, pressing a kiss to the front of his mask, imagining the way his lips must be flushing in response, imagining what it would be like without the ridiculous apparatus in the way. He’s unbalanced, a little surprised, and when you push him back he doesn’t anticipate it, falling, flailing, until he lands with a thud in the soft mud outside of your ship.

“Until next time, Commander!” you call down to him as the hatch lifts, running to the cockpit as fast as your legs will carry you. You’re in a panic as you start up the ship, a shake in your hands that makes it hard to hit the right controls but you don’t stop until you hit lightspeed, trying your hardest to breathe.

You plug in the right coordinates and sit back in the pilot’s chair, brushing your hand across your cheek, picking up the stray moisture that lingers there. You don’t remember when the tears started. You’re not sure how to stop. It seems like today isn’t your lucky day after all.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren #my writing #requests #anons #historymiss

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blahblahwritings · 4 years ago

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Contracts and Captains. - IV

A/N: Remember how I posted something before one of my other fics saying that I had been consistently updating for weeks? Neither do I lmao who was she? Don’t know her anyway heres the fourth chapter of this black sails fic.

Words: 1823. Honestly I’ve been writing this since about 12pm I don’t know how its so short and its probably shit bc I haven’t written anything in months.

Warnings: Mentions of vomit as per the last chapter. Think thats it lmao. See you in three months.

As your eyes opened, there were a blissful couple of seconds where the previous night’s encounter didn’t exist in your memory. But, just like the sun flooding the room, unwanted flashes of vomit and slurred words rose like a tidal wave in your minds eye. You rolled over, burying your face and groaning into the pillow out of sheer embarrassment as a dull throbbing started in the depths of your skull.

Why did you keep drinking? You could’ve simply had one or two before retiring for the night and you wouldn’t have met that boatswain or thrown up on your own boots. What was his name again? Ben? Boyd? No, they weren’t quite right. Either way you made a mental note to apologise again whenever you next saw him.

Slowly, you tugged your still clothed limbs from the thin sheets, trying not to jostle your stomach too much for fear of whatever was left in there making an unwelcome appearance. Your pants were scuffed from where you took a tumble outside the tavern, your shirt was half undone, probably from a failed attempt to undress before not-so-gracefully falling into bed. A single boot was thrown on the floor alongside your coat, the other still stuck on your foot. What a mess.

A hot bath, that's what you needed, and a hearty breakfast if your insides don’t bring it back up. Pulling on the other boot, you made your way to one of the girls working downstairs, trading her coin to fill the tub in your room. You must’ve looked rough as you passed her to get to the man at the bar because when he turned to look at you, his brows shot up, disappearing behind his hair.

“You look like you could use a little hair of the dog, love.” He chuckled, eyes scanning your disheveled form. A grimace was your immediate response. “Some food then.” He offered, filling a bowl with something that you didn’t stop to look at as you practically inhaled it. The man watched you with a knowing smirk and had you not felt so terrible you’d have spat out a snarky comment. You chose to gulp down your water instead.

“Thank you.” You huffed with a small nod, tossing some money on the counter before you headed back upstairs. The state you were in just added to this morning's growing list of regrets but you weren’t quite sure if you cared how you looked to anyone else right now. All that was on your mind was a piercing headache and a good soak.

Stripping off, you stepped into the water, sinking down slowly as your body got used to the heat. Finally, with a heavy sigh, you rested your head on the back of the tub, your aching muscles beginning to relax. Scented oils and soaps were left on a stand by the bath. Working a generous amount between your palms, you massaged your limbs and torso getting rid of any tension and purging the memories of last night’s… festivities. In the quiet of your room, you took a moment to trace the small scars that littered your form, fingers landing at last on the freshly healed knife wound from only a few weeks ago. The soft pink flesh was still tender, and if you moved the wrong way it would ache. It was dangerous to be alone on this island, in this line of work. You needed friends, not just contacts. A crew, perhaps.

Letting your mind wander, you thought about your new found place among Flint’s men. You had to keep bringing in leads to be of any value to him, lest you risk being tossed aside and left in the dirt. He and his crew were among the most revered on the island, therefore cementing your part in that would bring security. It would ensure that other crews would leave you alone, as you were important to someone they feared and the consequences of harming you could be severe.

Then again, there was a little more than security on your list of perks as you thought more about the taller man from last night. He was kind to you, not that the others weren’t having bought your drinks and all, but, he made sure you were safe and fed. Billy Bones. You recalled. Replaying the meeting in your head, you winced at the slurred introduction and the puking soon after. Why did you care about how he saw you? Was it because he was the crew’s boatswain or because he was handsome and softer than most pirates you’d met.

Catching that last thought, you shook it from your head, refusing to let it take root in your brain. Attachments like that are a weakness here and you cannot afford to have those. You’d only met the guy once and he probably didn’t want anything to do with you anyway, especially after that drunken show you gave him. Cupping a handful of water, you splashed your face, scrubbing any further thoughts of the man from your head, instead, choosing to focus on finding a new lead for Flint.

They would be leaving to chase down the details you gave him yesterday in a couple of days, if not sooner, which meant you probably had around two weeks to find something of substance upon their return. You’d struggled last time but after sending out letters to old friends in neighbouring ports, you were hopeful something would turn up.

Padding your way to the dresser, you pulled out some fresh clothes and got ready, feeling much better than you did even an hour before. The food had settled your stomach and the water you guzzled seemed to bring some life back into your face as when you left to go hunt down some work, the barman from earlier spouted something along the lines of ‘A whole other woman’ when you walked by.

---

An uneventful morning led to an uneventful afternoon. There were no new letters or leads and the streets were pleasantly calm compared to usual. You certainly weren’t complaining, you had been feeling better since this morning but your body was still recovering. The easy day was probably just what you needed. You were sat on the beach, sipping some water and watching passersby as you sketched in the journal you kept.

It was something you’d taken to keeping since arriving in Nassau just over two years ago. A small leather book to help keep track of potential jobs and record anything interesting that happened. Really, though, you just loved to draw. You’d already filled a couple just like it with sketches of people, ships and landscapes that caught your eye, often accompanied by your messy scrawl. You were just about satisfied with your latest addition when Mr Gates clapped you on the shoulder making you jump and slam the journal closed. You’d never shown anyone the contents before.

“Sorry, Miss Devereux, didn’t mean to startle you.” He began, chuckling lightly at your reaction. “I heard you and the lads had quite the night..” He moved to stand by you as you got to your feet, dusting the sand from your pants. Tucking away the book, an amused smirk finds its way to your face as you look at him.

“Depends on who you ask.” You replied. “How were they this morning? Feeling sorry for themselves?” Your brows raised in question as you both started aimlessly wandering along the shore. A snort met your ears as his head fell forwards, looking at the ground then back at you. “I didn’t see the majority of them until at least noon and they were still in a sorry state, although I wonder how you must’ve been. I heard that you hurled your guts up right after meeting our boatswain.” Gates mused, eyes crinkling as he watched your entire face turn a lovely shade of red. You tried to keep your cool but your expression faltered into one of sheer embarrassment. Apparently, this was hilarious as Mr Gates exploded into a fit of hearty laughter, and as much as you told him to stop you couldn’t help but have a good chuckle yourself as you covered your face with a half-sandy palm at the thought.

When you both regain your composure, he gives you a reassuring pat on the back.

“Don’t worry, the only people who know are Billy and myself, the men still think you can hold your drink.” He winked. You made a move to argue that you could in fact hold your drink but he began talking about the plan to set sail the day after tomorrow. You listened intently and explained that you were awaiting correspondence from friends in other ports to supply more promising leads upon their return.

---

It had been four days since the crew left in search of another haul using your most recent information. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, you’d made some money here and there through smaller jobs and pickpocketing but overall, there was nothing of real interest. You spent the days reading anything you could get your hands on or drawing and you’d even had your eye on some paints in one of the markets, but all you could do was wait. Checking for mail at the front desk of the inn you were staying at every morning had become a routine, desperate for any work or ships that you could relay to Flint. It was on the fifth day that you had gotten a response from someone in Port Royal.

As you read over the letter for the third time, you could feel your eyes widen in disbelief, your heart hammered in your chest and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This was far too good to be true. Surely this was a myth. A prize of this magnitude was simply unheard of. Your eyes scanned over the paper again, barely able to focus on the words because your hands were trembling so violently. Calm down. You told yourself. It can’t be the truth. You thought as you stared at the other envelope that had arrived alongside it. At the bottom of the letter it read:

“P.S

Should you doubt my information, I sent you the correspondence shared between the dead man and the merchant with evidence pertaining to this gold. Best not ask how it came into my possession.

Your dear friend,

Josiah.”

You ran to shut the windows to your room and close the drapes. If anyone found out you had this information and the evidence to go with it, you would surely be killed for it. Tearing open the paper, you unfolded its contents. It was all here. The initials of the merchant, R.P., details alluding to the existence of this gold and the name of the dead man involved in plotting the course it would be on.

Vasquez.

#Black Sails #black sails imagine #Billy Bones #billy bones x reader #multi chapter #Captain Flint #mr gates

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maraudersandlily20 · 4 years ago

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Hope

Okay, here’s the thing. About 2 years ago, when I was in the THICK of the HPRP community (which is dead now, honestly. RIP.), I found myself drawn to weird characters, SUCH AS: Charlie Weasley, Regulus Black (this one is still very much happening), and Hope and Lyall Lupin. I was doing a bunch of research and investigating on Remus’ parents, and the way those two met and fell in love was ADORABLE. So I started to write that story, and I asked Carolina (aka @the-moon-and-stars-my-love ) to read and edit it for me. I should have known that she would go above and beyond, as is per Carolina. But I was rereading HOPE, the story, a few days ago and decided that the only way I could post it was if I actually PUT Carolina’s commentary into the story. Because it makes me laugh and people need to see it.

I’ve only written 2 parts of this story, because I hit a block after I finished the second part. So I’ll post what I have.

Here’s Hope, part 1. Carolina’s commentary will be labelled, bolded, and italicized for less confusion.

Part 1

If there was one thing that was certain, it was that Hope Howell wasn’t foolish. She wasn’t foolish. She knew better than to be out this late, especially in these woods. There were reports of robberies, rapes, and even murders that happened when people were out too long. But this time, it wasn’t people, it was her.

“You’re really done it now, Hope. Really. You just HAD to go to Carreg today to write. You couldn’t have just stayed home and had tea with mum?” Hope was babbling, of course, which she was hoping would soothe her nerves and help her dismiss the small sounds from the dark crevices of the forest. There were plenty of animals and bugs in this forest, they were probably just making a debut. And if it wasn’t animals, that didn’t necessarily mean it was anything bad.

“It doesn’t matter,” she reasoned. “There’s nothing bad in this forest. People just say there is to keep naughty children away or have them return at a reasonable hour. And I’ve never been reasonable, I’m a rebel. I go home when I want to, dark or not.” She was hoping, somewhere in the back of her mind, that if she could convince herself, even momentarily, and boost her confidence, she wouldn’t feel so completely stripped of all protection.

She should have accepted Miles’ offer to go with her to Carreg, but she had been adamant that she would be perfectly fine. Besides, he would have read too much into it, and she wasn’t going to string him along. She shook off those thoughts and wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

“I AM perfectly fine.” she reasoned. “They’re just old wives tales and superstitions. And I, Hope Howell, am not a superstitious person,” she said as if trying to reason with some stubborn part of herself.

A branch broke, making Hope freeze in her tracks. She felt her pulse quicken, but refused to look in the direction of the noise.

Carolina: girl these are your flight or fight instincts kicking in liSTEN TO THEM

She was just jumpy from remembering the stories and legends that were very much NOT true, she told herself. The noise was nothing. Just an animal. Or, maybe a bug. “I’m not superstitious. I’m not. Truly.”

Carolina: sure jan

However, to give herself some form of comfort, she picked up a large branch on the side of the road and wielded it as though it were a weapon. It didn’t mean she was afraid, it just meant she was smart, she thought.

Carolina: hahahahaha I'm just so amused because she is a stubborn woman who refuses to be afraid i love her

Her feet seemed glued to the ground and no matter how many positive thoughts she whispered into the air, she couldn’t will herself to move forward.

Carolina: ooo i see what you did there! with the boggart. uh huh uh huh yes good nice i like it she's already feeling the effects because she's probably looking at it but not realizing she's looking at it so she's already scared. nice little detail!

Suddenly, there was a low groaning noise and Hope’s eyes widened in fear. Slowly, reluctantly, knowing she should have already been running at this point, she turned to look into the darkness.

There was nothing visible to her beyond the shadows of the trees, of course, but the possibilities of what could be lurking just out of view flooded her mind . “I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid,” she whispered, over and over, but her mind didn’t seem to believe her.

Frozen in place, Hope swallowed. “H-hello? Is there anyone…. Is there anyone out there?”

Nothing.

Silence.

“I mean it. If you’re out there, this isn’t funny. If you’re looking to kill me or… or rob me or anything, let’s just move on with it.” she was impressed with how clear her voice sounded despite her high adrenaline. “I don’t even have any money on me, so I’m not sure why you would even want to rob me. But, you’re more than welcome to try.” She sounded ridiculous, she knew, but she wasn’t sure what else she could do.

Again, nothing,

Just the silence.

Hope shook her head, loosening her hold on her makeshift weapon with the softest sigh of relief. “Silly girl. Of course there’s nothing out there. You’re not superstitious. People don’t just go around hiding in forests like it’s some fairytale. This is 1958 for Christ’s sake. Who in their right mind would-” She stopped dead as another noise manifested itself from the space right before her.

“Hello?” She said again, trying to keep her anxiety at bay, but failing miserably. “Hello?” It was practically a squeak.

And then, there, from the darkness, emerged a huge cloaked figure, with broad shoulders and gleaming eyes. It loomed over Hope and she felt all the blood rush from her face. She couldn’t help herself. She screamed.

She screamed and screamed and the figure moved closer to her. Finally, her heart couldn’t take it. Hope collapsed onto the ground, her vision fading in and out. Hope was swimming in and out of consciousness. Almost as if it were a dream, she watched a man break through the trees, holding what appeared to be a small stick. He brandished it toward the cloaked figure and shouted a strange word into the air. A bright light filled her vision, and then the figure disappeared into the trees without a backward glance.

As Hope tried to push her eyes fully open, the face of the man appeared above her.

“Are you alright?” were the last words she heard before everything went black.

The air was cold against her skin, and it roused her from her sleep. It must have been a few minutes before she regained consciousness, as the man who had miraculously saved her was now sitting nearby with his back to her, his gaze trained on the forest, as if watching for more perpetrators.

Hope shook her head, trying to dispel the dizziness that fogged her brain. She pushed herself up into a seated position with a groan. A pair of hands reached out to steady her and there were definitely words being spoken to her, though it took a moment for her mind to unscramble them.

“Easy there,” the man said, trying to sound reassuring by keeping his voice low. His hands were calloused and rough, she noted, which was strange compared to the gentleness he was using with her. Her eyes trailed up his arms, taking in the overcoat he wore and the sweater beneath that looked hand-knitted. Her gaze slowly continued upward, and she couldn’t help but feel both fascinated and silly at her interest of his neck and his jawline. She prayed he hadn’t noticed her perusal of him when she finally met his gaze. Hope looked into warm brown eyes of this stranger and was struck dumb. This man had saved her? He was…. Beautiful.

Carolina: listen this is the cutest thing and i am so here for the moment of "shit they're beautiful" and i'm so glad you included it because yes she was aw awestruck of him as he was of her

Also Carolina: can i get uuhhhh mUTUAL PINING???

While they sat looking at each other, it wasn’t lost on her that there was a chance this was another ploy to rob her. But, at the same time, she was so relieved that the much larger and, frankly, more terrifying man hadn’t hurt her. The man in front of her was so handsome and gentle that she really couldn’t find it in her to care if he was going to rob her.

Carolina: hOPE MY GOODNESS IF I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS MA BOY LYALL I'D BE CONCERNED BUt also it's Lyall and he's been so good this whole time and it he wanted to do something he wouldn't have been there when you woke up bUT STILL (not a bad thing just a realization lol)

“I’m alright,” She whispered, holding a hand to her head.

“Are you sure? You took quite the fall, you know. And over a simple boggart too.” He chuckled, not registering the look of confusion on her face and then seeming to remember something. “Oh, here,” he muttered, reaching into his pocket and fumbling for a moment before pulling out a small wrapped candy. He noticed her wary gaze and shook his head. “Don’t worry, it’s just chocolate. Eat. You’ll feel better.”

Carolina: cries bc throwback/foreshadowing to remus saying this to harry about boggarts too

He handed it to her and she took it, though she wasn’t sure why.

Carolina: dID YOUR MOTHER NOT TELL YOU NOT TO ACCEPT SWEETS FROM A STRANGER??? Hope i love you but dear goodness woman

When he looked away from her, apparently sorting through the contents of his pocket, she stuffed the chocolate into the pocket of her coat. It wasn’t that she wanted to be rude, but she was wary of accepting any sort of food from a nameless, though very handsome, stranger.

Carolina: !!! yes good on you Hope you gots to be careful! stranger danger

As her pulse settled into a normal rhythm, and as she realized there was no imminent danger, she took a moment to take in her surroundings. They seemed to be in the same piece of wood she had fainted in, but somehow, it looked brighter. Maybe it was just the beautiful man sitting beside her that made her think that. She couldn’t be sure.

Carolina: gOD Hope could you BE any more enamored by this man??? how dare you make this so cute, Jo???

And then she remembered what had made her faint. “You-” She turned back to him suddenly. “You rescued me!”

The man laughed with a sheepish smile. “Really, it was nothing. You must have just lost your wits. You would have been fine without me.”

“Are you out of your mind? That man was HUGE! There’s no way I ever could have gotten rid of him without you.”

The stranger stopped. “Man…?”

“Yes, the big cloaked man that you chased off with your little… little stick?” her nose wrinkled as she remembered. “You were holding a stick, weren’t you? How did you even do that? And what did you say earlier? That he was a … a Boggart?”

They looked at each other and Hope felt as if she was being sized up. Some sort of clarity seemed to hit him. “Oh, uh, it wasn’t a stick, it was a knife. I always keep one in my pocket . An old habit I developed from the war.” He pulled out a small knife, holding it out towards her by the wood handle. She nodded. “As for the… the boggart part. In my hometown, Boggart was a name we called scary looking men who were weak.”

Carolina: hA. Nice save Lyall v slick i like it. also, really clever on you for coming up with that being the explanation Lyall would have given her!

Hope nodded, as if she understood, but thought it was a right silly thing to call anyone.

There was a pause. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked.

A little laugh left her throat. “Yes, I’m sure. I kept telling myself over and over that I wasn’t afraid and that there was nothing out there to worry about. But at the first sign of danger, I went and fainted.”

“I hardly think your reaction was unreasonable,” Lyall reassured her. “I had the benefit of being rescuer, and not the damsel in distress. It’s always easier to save someone else than to fight things off yourself. I very well might have reacted the same way.”

Carolina: Lyaaalllll what a sweet lad validating her feelings and admitting to probably reacting a similar way if he had been in her shoes. what a man :')

Hope smiled, finding it funny that he was trying, in a way, to save her pride. She had already fainted in front of him, she assumed that all presumptions of pride were long behind them. “Well, it wasn’t an ideal reaction either. You are right thought. Being a damsel in distress is hard work. Who knows what would have happened to me if you hadn’t come along. ” This made the man snort with laughter, which then made Hope giggle, which was something she never did.

Carolina: pRECIOUS the absolute NERDS

Gratitude shone in her eyes as she smiled at him. “Thank you, by the way. For saving me.”

If Hope had been paying more attention to the handsome man’s face as she smiled at him, she would have noticed the flush that covered his cheeks and the nervous way he bit his lip.

Carolina: cuuuuuute. he's already so into her and it's adorable and sweet and pure

However, Hope wasn’t always the best at picking up romantic signals from men.

Carolina: lmao Hope is me can't pick up signals aT ALL xD seriously love when they're both pretty much oblivious at the signs

He studied her for a moment before clearing his throat. “It was my pleasure, truly.”

They continued smiling at each other, there in the fading light of the evening, neither sure what to say or what to do, but feeling very warm. It was almost like if they moved, they would break the sort of spell that they were wrapped up in, and so both were reluctant to move even an inch.

“I’m Lyall.” he finally said, his voice soft. “Lyall Lupin.”

It was a name that suited him, she thought. “I’m Hope Howell.”

Carolina: dO YOU HEAR MY CRYING??? MY PRECIOUS BABIES

The man, Lyall, her mind supplied with a giddy jump of her heart, got to his feet and extended a hand down to her, which she accepted. Once they were both up and dusted off, Lyall rubbed at his neck.

Carolina: *nervous boi is nervous around cute gal he just met

[h e a r t e y e s]

Hope’s eyes snapped to trace the movement, but she immediately tried to act like she wasn’t blatantly staring. He grinned. Not wanting to embarrass her, he played it off that he hadn’t noticed. He had definitely noticed.

Carolina: seeeee?? she thinks you're handsome and wonderful tooooo you've got a shot boy-o!

“Well, I think, Hope Howell, that it may be time to get you home. Would you mind if I escorted you there?”

Carolina: *insert more happy crying here* WHAT A GENTLEMAN! PUT ON A RING ON IT, HOPE

Her cheeks flushed red as her name rolled off his tongue and she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d appreciate it.”

So the two walked together, side by side, along the forest path. Hope couldn’t help but notice that the trees no longer appeared menacing and somehow everything seemed lighter. Even though the stars twinkled down at the both of them and the air was growing chilly, the two new acquaintances didn’t seem to mind. They seemed to be desperate to speak to each other and so they talked. And talked. And talked. Back and forth they asked questions and told stories about things they normally wouldn’t have said to someone they had just met. But they just had a feeling.

Carolina: THE FEELING IS LOVE IT'S OKAY YOU CAN SAY IT

Hope couldn’t remember a time when she had laughed so much. She had been pursued by multiple young men in university, and even Miles was now pushing for them to “see where things went”, as he so eloquently put it. However, none of them, not a single one, had the ability to make her feel as warm as Lyall Lupin did. For some reason, she felt as though he were looking at her and seeing more than anyone else ever had.

Carolina: do you know that this sentence made my heart melt just a bit more???

Hope led them along the path back to her village, where her farmhouse sat on the outskirts, away from the main square. She almost wished it had taken them longer to arrive, but she tried not to seem too disappointed.

“Well, here we are,” she said, standing at the end of the walkway that led to her door. She didn’t want to bring him too close to the windows, in case her nosy mother were peering out. She had made it very clear that mothers had a seventh sense when their daughters brought home boys. Hope had laughed at the time, but currently, she wasn’t anxious to test that seventh sense out.

Carolina: jokes on u Hope - mOMS ALWAYS KNOW IT'S THEIR SUPER POWER! but also if hope not wanting to bring him closer a'int a mood lol

“Oh.” He seemed as reluctant to part as she was. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Hope.”

Carolina: oKAY NOW ASK HER OUT LYALL DO IT

Also Carolina: go on and kiss the girl (on her hand bc that's cute as heck and she is a lady, lyall lupin

“You as well.”

“Don’t go wandering around in the woods in the dark anymore, alright?” he quipped, eyes gleaming with amusement.

“Wouldn’t want to attract any more Boggarts, now would I?” she replied, teasingly.

Lyall started a bit at the word and then let out a laugh a second later. “Exactly.”

Carolina: lmao he must have been TERRIFIED for a moment. "oh no i just broke the statute of secrecy" must have been his internal monologue for a moment there

They stood, staring at each other for a moment, that same warmth covering them, and both wished that this didn’t have to be goodbye.

“I should… probably get going.”

Carolina: oh my gosh...that reluctance...my inner hopeless romantic is scREAMING

Hope nodded, sure that her disappointment was clear, though she was attempting to play it off as tiredness. She did not succeed. Lyall turned to leave before stopping. In a second, he was facing her again.

“Would you mind if I came to see you again? Just to check up on you? Would that be alright?” he asked, nearly stumbling over his words and his barely concealed excuse.

A grin covered Hope’s face and she didn’t even care to try and hide it. “I’d really love that.”

He laughed, his grin matching hers. “Good. Then, I’ll see you soon, Hope Howell.”

“I’ll see you soon, Lyall Lupin.”

Carolina: full names?? fULL NAMES?? BECAUSE THEY JUST WANT TO KEEP SAYING EACH OTHER'S NAMES??? HI YES PLEASE AND THANK YOU

She bit her lip, trying not to burst into excited giggles, because, really, that was so uncharacteristic of her. After a beat she turned and walked swiftly to the front door. When she reached the handle, she couldn’t help herself and turned to wave at him. He was still standing exactly where she had left him, watching her as she went. He wiggled his fingers in return and she sighed, content.

She pushed into the front room, feeling the warmth from the fireplace cover her in an instant. Everything was where it had been that morning. Her house was still her house, the couches and tables and blankets were all exactly where they had been before she left for Carreg. But she was different.

Lyall Lupin made her feel different.

Carolina: can you hear my squeals of delight over how gosh darn lovely their feelings for each other are???

“Is that you, calon bach?” came her mother’s voice drifting out from the kitchen.

“It’s me mam.”

“How was Carreg? Did you have a nice time?”

Hope bit her lip, shaking her head in disbelief as she remembered the warmth and compassion she had seen in the eyes of Lyall Lupin.

Lyall Lupin.

Lyall Lupin who wanted to see her again, just as much as she wanted to see him.

Carolina: i love that her thoughts keep going back to Lyall it's cute

Her hand drifted into her pocket and pulled out the small wrapped chocolate, the wrapper shining in the light of the living room. She turned it over and over in her hands, grateful for the anchor to reality, the promise the chocolate seemed to portray. It was a promise that Lyall Lupin was real. And he was going to come back to her.

Carolina: imma just go and say it. chocolate is incredibly important to the lupins as a family even before remus became a werewolf and i think that's wonderful because it just carries on into each aspect of their lives. i really like that you brought it back to the chocolate

“Yeah, mam. I had a real nice time,” came her belated reply and she stuffed the chocolate away again, heading toward the kitchen.

Lyall watched as the beautiful woman disappeared from his view and the door closed behind her. He couldn’t help the grin that covered his face. He must have looked nearly manic, going on so.

“The lads will never forgive me if I carry on like this,” he whispered with a laugh. And then, suddenly, the place where Lyall Lupin was standing was empty, the young man appearing to have evaporated into thin air.

Okay, well. That’s part one. Lemme know if part two is of any interest to you. I mean, I’ll probably post it anyway, but whatever. I hope you enjoyed Carolina as much as I always do!

#remus lupin #hope lupin #lyall lupin #the lupins #my writing

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anika-ann · 5 years ago

Text

Nothing but the Truth - Pt.6

The Worst Pre-honeymoon Ever

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4950

Summary: A fake dating AU. “Lying is a delightful thing, for it leads to truth…” (F.Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment)

Warnings: a lot of swearing, implied stalking, creepiness and sick beliefs, violence, torture

A/N: The longest one so far and also the most important one; the very birth of this fic. There you go. Read the warnings, please, even if you usually skip them

Story Masterlist

Considering how messed up you were and what circumstances you found yourself in, it suddenly took you a ridiculously little amount of time to realize what at least one of those machines was.

It was a polygraph.

A lie detector.

What was the questioning going to about you could only guess, because ‘I brought you here to ensure your future commitment to each other can be proper” was as much of a fucked-up clue as it was a useless one.

Your mind was about to kick into an overdrive with morbid fantasies, when a groan caught your attention. Your head instantly snapped to Steve, the source of the pained noise.

He squeezed his eyes tightly, shifting his head back and forth, the motion slow, but with a purpose, as if he was trying to avoid annoying sunrays in the morning.

For a brief moment, you wondered if either of you were about to see the morning sun ever again and the thought made you choke up.

Steve’s eyelids fluttered open drowsily, barely focused eyes searching the room until his gaze fell on you and his eyes widened. His lips whispered your name and despite the tears gathering in your eyes, you gave him a watery smile.

“Hey, Steve,” you creaked and his gaze trailed over your body, pupils dilating so much that they nearly hid all of the cerulean of his irises.

He straightened in his chair; or attempted too, his body probably feeling as heavy as yours when you had woken up; possibly heavier even, with that sicko drugging him with a mixture of sedatives that could have stop his breathing.

“Whatta-“ he rasped, his fingers twitching, more forcefully than you grew accustomed to while being here and his glare found the body part in question with utter confusion – and horror.

“Captain, good to see you awake at last.”

Steve tried to stand up to face the voice, the supposed enemy, but he barely moved at all; the tips of his shoes rose a fraction, his thumbs flexing, his palms rising just an inch before falling back to the armrest helplessly.

His eyes found the man at least, his chin coming to rest on his shoulder to keep it from falling on his chest as the muscles in his neck weren’t able to do their job.

Seeing Steve Rogers in a significantly weakened state was a new and an entirely terrifying thing that shook you to a core. Steve Rogers, Captain America, always strong and ready to swing in to save everyone…. You had seen him bruised before, a fading black-eye maybe, a healing scar on his cheek, but nothing that came even close to this; witnessing his battle to keep his head up, that-- that was fucking scary.

You had never ever been met with a sight of him drained enough not to hold his body straight.

However, determination and anger were written all over his face as his eyes narrowed and it was the only thing which felt familiar about him.

It was the sole thing helping you to maintain a piece of sanity, his attitude shining a ray of hope into the darkness and horror of this godforsaken place when a psycho who hooked up Steve to some machine to deliver periodical electric pulses.

Jesus. Christ.

One simple word, mumbled with difficulty, yet carrying a menace; it broke the silence suddenly and startlingly.

“You,” Steve muttered, glaring at your masked captor.

You blinked simultaneously with Steve; while he was apparently attempting to shake off his drowsiness, you were simply confused.

He… had he had an idea who this psycho was?

Your captor ignored him though and went to seat himself to a chair by the polygraph and one more device, causing your face drain of all colour in a terrifying premonition.

“Now that we are all set-“

“You’re the vendor,” Steve stated, still fighting the effect of sedatives, forcing his muscles to move according to his commands.

The fact that he couldn’t was heart-breaking, but what he called the man behind the mask was downright mind-blowing.

The… the vendor? As if-

The man sighed, a breathless chuckle escaping his lips as he reached for the edge of the mask, pealing it off.

To your undiluted shock, he truly revealed a face of a man who had sold you the ring.

What the actual-- you had found him creepy okay, but not I’m-going-to-kidnap-you-and-torture-you creepy! How—how did he even get to you, how did he overpower a freaking supersoldier, how he moved him anywhere, Steve was a mass of muscle, heavy and this guy was just-

“Nothing escapes your attention, I see,” the unmasked man remarked. “I should have known. There is no point in hiding then. Let’s begin-“

“How did you find us?” Steve demanded and for the first time since you had been back to consciousness, it dawned to you that… this was, in fact, what you had wanted. You wanted the man behind the kidnappings to find you.

You most definitely hadn’t wanted it to come to this¸ but-

Despite feeling like absolute shit, cold and terrified in your very core, you… you forced yourself to stop freaking out that much at least. Your mission was on. This was the plan.

Kinda.

“The tracker in the ring, naturally,” the madman answered almost kindly, one corner of his lips rising.

Your heart nearly gave out; he put a tracker in the ring?! What the fuck?!

And then it hit you; a tracker.

You had two trackers on you now; one in the ring from this psycho, one in the necklace from Tony freaking Stark.

The Avengers must have been on their way already Your eyes fluttered close, relief flooding your veins from the centre of your chest to your fingertips. It would be over soon.

Right?

“Unfortunately, I have to inform you I needed to deactivate the tracking devices in your necklace and belt.”

Your eyes snapped open in horror, finding Steve’s alarmed ones.

What? WHAT?!

Fuck.

No, don’t freak out (again) just yet! Surely Tony freaking Stark had counted on that option, right? Because he was a genius, he-

The pure horror in Steve’s face told you otherwise. No, he hadn’t. At least not that Steve knew of.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK-!!

Steve slowly shook his head, grimacing; he wasn’t one to give up. And spotting the terror on your face, he most definitely was not the one to submit, no, he would be the one to keep your head above water before you could drown in panic.

“Was smart,” Steve muttered, apparently still with difficulty, but more clearly now. You would be delighted that his state improving, except your mind was too busy trying to figure out why the heck did it sound as if he just praised your kidnapper. “So is your profession. You can get the information on new couples first-hand.”

The vendor seemed thoughtful as he nodded, but then a scowl twisted his expression.

“Wouldn’t be my first choice.”

And it finally, finally dawned to your slow brain what was Steve doing. He was stalling. To what end you weren’t sure, but you hoped it meant that the Ironman himself would be able to find you anyway… somehow.

“What… what would be your first choice?” you whispered softly, too scared of setting something in him off by speaking louder.

“Doesn’t matter. I found my purpose now,” he replied, leaning to the machines and you gulped when a spark flied from it.

“And what is the purpose again?”

The man turned to Steve at the question. “I am a servant of love. Of true love. One of faith, trust and honesty,” he declared proudly and you wanted to puke. He sounded fucking insane.

A servant of love? Tell that to the missing couples!

“How do you serve this love?” Steve queried, somehow managing to sound genuinely interested and when the other man hesitated, you held your breath.

“Mm. I protect people from entering a marriage based on lies.”

BY KIDNAPPING THEM AND KILLING THEM?!

Because that was the assumption, wasn’t it? If the couples had disappeared and never reappeared, then they were very likely dead.

Just like you might be in a couple of minutes.

You breathed through the hysteria crawling up your throat, rather holding onto the fact Steve was still trying to do something here. The stalling seemed to be working well.

But for how long? And was the time bought with this enough for the Avengers finding you despite this man’s plots?

“You’re protecting them from the same fate you suffered,” Steve deduced and you winced.

“Yes. I know the pain lies can cause to a man. Love must be pure. When you promise dedication to another person, you must be truly committed to them,” he stated seriously and your head… spun as you slowly pierced together a story of a man with a broken heart and… a broken mind, turning absolutely fucking mad from the betrayal.

Ill, he was ill, mentally, but that didn’t justify his actions in the slightest.

“You were married and your partner has been unfaithful,” Steve guessed, but sounded as if he knew for sure, coming to the same conclusion as you.

“How do you-“ the vendor chuckled then, a watery sound as his own memories must have been brought to life, reopening the wound and rubbing salt in it. “Of course you would figure it out…. She sat in this very chair, you know? With her new fiancé. And she didn’t even love him. She was only after his money. And he didn’t love her either, just enjoying the adventure. Such a shame…”

Your blood crystalized in your veins, icy cold, and not for the first time, your stomach turned all over, its contents threatening to spill from your mouth.

He… had he—he-

“Where is she now?” you quipped, unable to keep the question from spilling from your lips, needing to know the answer and dreading it at the same time.

His smile was blinding as he looked at you. “In eternity.”

A violent tremble shook your body and your eyes closed at their own account, tears welling up and instantly rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m sure I’ll meet her one day and we will be reunited, her soul reaching absolution, her love for me finally purified.”

Well, I hope she reached absolution and you’ll rot in hell, you sadistic psycho. You murdered your ex-wife!

“You had enough answers. I’m gonna ask now. Don’t you dare to lie; lies only bring pain to our loved ones,” he warned you, his voice carrying the echo of his own heartbreak.

To deliver his point, your captor pressed a button on what looked like a primitive remote.

A sharp tingle ran through your body and you jerked in your seat, a startled yelp escaping you.

Steve hissed, apparently receiving the same treatment, but being less bothered by it; or at least aiming to appear like that for your benefit.

It was scarily easy to comprehend what was about to happen. You were about to get a shock treatment for every lie leaving your lips.

Steve’s eyes locked on you, pleading. The message written in them was clear; don’t lie at any circumstances.

You didn’t need to be told twice; you did not want to be punished by fucking electricity, thank you very much.

“Let’s start with low intensity and simple questions…” the man informed you casually, rising from his seat, and walked to Steve right after he set something on the machine. It started humming and his words echoed in your skull, bouncing dully in the space with terrible realization. He was about to turn up the intensity at some point. Jesus fuck. “Do you care for this woman, Captain?”

Steve fought to raise his chin in defiance, looking the man dead in the eye.

“Yes.”

Your captor turned to you, smiling. “Told you I’d start with the easy ones. Isn’t it nice to know the truth? Look at that. No significant changes to the lines.”

You followed his line of gaze, noticing for the first time the outcome of the… testing. The polygraph monitoring yours and Steve’s whatever was writing down lines of low amplitudes. He was right.

And you didn’t give a shit.

You just wanted to-- to be free again and not under the threat of being possibly electrocuted.

He went to switch something on the machine before asking you the same question. “Now… do you care for this man?”

This question indeed was easy; yet, the intense eyes of the man who had your destiny in his hands made it hard for you to breathe and answer.

“Y-yes.”

The scribbling on the paper of the polygraph got madder and your heart honest to God stopped.

What the fuck, you were telling the truth!

Your examiner frowned at the paper. “You’re a nervous one, aren’t you? Don’t worry about that.”

No fucking kidding, you have me connected to a-

“Let’s proceed. Have you ever kissed someone else since you started this relationship?”

“Have you had an intercourse with someone else since you started this relationship?”

These were easy to pass; especially considering that you had started fake-dating Steve only two – three? – days ago.

Was it really so shortly? It felt like eternity.

Then again, you felt like you had been in this creepy-as-fuck dungeon, your heart beating so fast that it might fail any second, for hours. And the period seemingly grew more immense as he turned up the potential punishment with each question.

Where the fuck was Tony Stark when you needed him?! Being fashionably late was not an option right now!

“You’re doing very well so far,” the man praised you both with a satisfied smile and moved to Steve once more; not before he modified the volts again.

You shivered at both his expression and actions. You prayed to Lord that you didn’t come across as lying, the memory of the short but intense warning at the beginning of the questioning still vivid in your mind. And that had been just a taste, the levels were much higher now.

A violent shudder shook your body.

“Have you always been honest about your feelings for her?”

For a brief moment, your brain just… froze.

There was one thing you hadn’t considered about this whole ordeal and that Steve finding out how you felt about him.

The moment you’d be asked that question… you’d either had to lie and get… some shock treatment or you’d have to tell the truth.

There was a saying about a rock and a hard place and you felt like it very much applied right now. Also… what would the man do if you told the truth and said no? He was all about honesty and if you hadn’t been honest with Steve, then there was clearly something wrong; at least according to his messed-up code or some shit.

Fuck rocks and hard places.

“I…” Steve whispered, finding your gaze. One look into his eyes and you realized that he was… torn.

Why was he torn? Did he hate you and never told you or something? That was ridiculous, right? You would have noticed that.

“Yes, Captain?” the man encouraged him.

Steve gulped, locking glares with the man. “Yes.”

The sudden beep nearly made you jump out of your skin and the man sighed, his whole demeanour changing. He eyed you and you couldn’t but frown.

Steve lied. You tried hard not to think about why, but thought about the fact that he did and… and that he was-- he was about to get-

“You don’t— you don’t need to hurt him, he’s-“ you quickly blurted out, panicking more when Steve shook his head behind the psycho with the remote, mouthing ‘don’t’. “-I’m sure it’s only some… misunderstanding.”

Yeah, you could see why Steve discouraged you from speaking.

You sounded utterly stupid and pathetic.

“See, that’s what I thought at first about my late wife. This can’t be happening in an honest relationship. I’m truly sorry about this,” he hummed regretfully, stepping away from Steve.

Your heart was squeezed by a cold fist when you saw the supersoldier – momentarily incapacitated – brace for the pain and your hands balled into fists, nails digging into your palms.

“Wait-“ you called out once more, but the man pushed the button anyway.

Your body was set on fire.

An agonized scream erupted from your chest, but you might have imagined it, because you didn’t have control over anything.

Someone struck a match and threw it on your body drenched in gasoline, igniting every cell, every nerve ending; acid flew through your veins, burning, everywhere, inside, outside, pain, pain, pain- and screams, a voice full of rage and desperation, God, is this hell, searing hot, cries of agony, black and crimson, blinding white of the burning heat, fire, fire and no end in sight, only more gasoline poured in--

You gasped as if you were pulled out from under water and earned a second above surface, greedily swallowing oxygen through your burning windpipe, stinging pressure expanding in your lungs, more, more, Jesus, you needed more-

Your fingertips tingled painfully, the muscles in your forearms spasming, the aftertaste of the unbearable heat it had been through stabbing tiny needles in every cell in your body. You were collapsed in the armchair, limp, unable to control the furious fight for oxygen your body led.

Your vision was blurry, dark spots dancing on its edges, pulsing visibly with each frantic beat of your heart.

The male voice – Steve’s, you realized – was still yelling, menacing and deadly.

“STOP! WHY did you do that to her?!” he demanded heatedly, the cerulean of his eyes swallowed by the darkest fury— and glazed by wetness of welled-up tears. “I’m sorry, oh god, I’m so sorry-“

“I told you,” your captor stated coldly and as you tried to focus on him, your mind buzzing loudly with the aftermath of his punishment, you found your own cheeks damp, vision blurred by tears. “Lies hurt the people we love. People we care for.”

“She didn’t do ANYTHING WRONG!” Steve yelled, sitting surprisingly upward for few seconds before he no doubt received his periodic discharge to keep his strength in check and he melted back into the chair with a frustrated grimace, trying to get up the very next second.

“No, she didn’t. You did. Now you know how this works.”

Between your raged breaths and your mind slowly clearing, you swore in your head. Answering this guy’s questions just got hella lot harder. You had not thought you’d enjoy going through that agony ever again, but the thought of putting someone else through it, Steve of all people, that was downright unthinkable.

And fucked up on an entirely new level.

“Now, dear, have you always-“

Staring at Steve’s face, white as the very sheet of paper where the records of his life functions were being written down, screaming thousands of apologies-- something in you snapped and you glared daggers at the sicko of a man who kidnapped you only to do-- this.

“Hey! No, I wasn’t. He was my friend first, have you thought of that? Do you think we just confessed our love to each other the first time we realized it? The first time we realized that we fell for our friend’s friend? No, the answer is one big NO. You bet your fucking ass that I wasn’t honest!” you sputtered at him, leaning forward only the two inches you could.

You hadn’t thought it was possible, but Steve’s face turned even paler as he shot the insane man a look, dreading his reaction.

Okay, maybe you should have considered that Steve might get shocked for your boldness, shit-

But the man in charge only frowned at you, seemingly deep in thought for endless seconds and then he broke into a manic smile.

“I’ll give you this one. You have a point. Very well…”

You sighed in relief; it appeared you wouldn’t find out the consequences of him not liking the truth just yet. Relaxing in your chair, you winced when your forearm spasmed again without your intent.

It wasn’t as painful anymore; but it was incredibly annoying not to be able to control your movements.

The involuntary twitch of muscle didn’t escape Steve’s attention and the deep wrinkle on his forehead which had been the first thing you noticed after— eh, the end of the shock, deepened. His brows were furrowed in concern, the corners of his mouth twisted downward and he just… you had been in agony, alright, it still fucking hurt, but you desperately wanted to give Steve a hug just to erase that troubled expression from his face.

“Moving to another question then. Is there anything you would change about her?”

The look on Steve’s face rivalled one of puppy now – a kicked one. “No.”

“Would you change anything about him?”

“No,” you answered simply, managing a reassuring smile. ‘I’m okay,’ you mouthed and he shook his head, glancing away, his eyes glassy.

You captor nodded for himself. “Back on the right track. One last question then, the most important one…”

You shifted in your seat uncomfortably. It sounded ominous and that was saying something coming from you, considering everything that had happened today.

The machine hummed loudly as the man set the volts to maximum before turning Steve’s direction.

“Do you love her?”

Your heart gave out.

Well, fuck.

It was to be expected, really. It was a perfectly logical question; the man who had your lives in his hands was a self-proclaimed protector of love, claiming to have the duty of ensuring people who were about to get married loved each other unconditionally and with no lie driving a wedge between them.

Yet, hearing the question fall from the madman’s lips paralysed you and filled you with emptiness, numbness settling deep inside your chest.

‘Do you love her?’

Four simple words sealing your fate.

Because no answer Steve could give was the right one, no answer would satisfy the murderer.

And judging by Steve’s expression, he realized that as well.

For several moments, you granted yourself the luxury of your eyelids falling shut, setting your jaw tight to keep your teeth from clattering in fear. You rocked back and forth in the chair, as much as your restraints allowed you to. Tears warmed your cheeks, salty paths of selfish grief, crying for you own life rushing towards its end.

Perhaps Steve could still escape?

You focused on the numbness in your ribcage, letting it engulf you, letting spread it through your mind until all you could think was a blank space.

Only then, you opened your eyes again, meeting Steve’s utterly desperate gaze and you knew, knew that there was no way out of this; no loophole. He had no doubt come to the same conclusion.

The inner turmoil he must have been feeling reflected in his eyes – torn and hurt, dreading what would happen if he told the truth; you both knew what was coming if he lied, you had been through that, but what if he admitted that he didn’t love you? What would this maniac do?

Steve’s jaw was clenched tight, a muscle twitching in what could be irritation. In the terribly silent space, the scribbling of the polygraph grew maddeningly loud, a noise of unbearable volume.

More tears escaped the wells of your eyes, your body trembling violently. You cursed the moment you had said yes to this insanity; you had been so stupid and naïve. Hiding behind doing the right thing, while wishing to be closer to Steve with no consequences to your friendship. How idiotic was that?

And where had that brought you?

To an empty cold room, seconds from being electrocuted.

Because that was what was about to happen, wasn’t it? If Steve said yes, the volts momentarily being set would kill you, no doubt. Lies hurt the people we love. If Steve said no… you were doomed as well, because this psycho was obsessed with the idea of love, it was the very reason why he was doing this. You were not stuck between a rock and a hard place; you were trapped between a death sentence and a death sentence.

Your eyelids slid shut for another moment and you tried your best to shush the sob crawling up your throat.

You were about to die.

Fuck, you didn’t want to die!

“Please, please don’t do this,” a voice whispered into the staccato of the machines, cracking at the plea and your brain barely registered it was your own voice. The shock of the realization caused you to open your eyes again and your gaze fixated on your captor. “Please.”

He shook his head, making his way to Steve, imploring eyes shining with madness and excitement.

“Do you truly love this woman?”

You shook your head helplessly as Steve’s pained gaze found yours, his mouth twisted in a desperate grimace, the cerulean of his eyes speaking thousands of words. Thousands of apologies.

Your quivering lips formed a smile for the briefest moment, one of bravery, to encourage him to speak, to tell him that you didn’t blame him for this mess.

“It’s okay, Steve,” you reassured him softly, choking on a sob, which completely ruined your pretence of actually being strong. But what did it matter? You were a dead woman anyway.

Tears glistened in Steve’s eyes and he shook his head, pressing his lips together. The guilt of pulling you into this – a misplaced guilt – was evident, clearly eating him alive. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly. He lowered his gaze to the floor, ignoring the man who had basically climbed into his personal space.

“Do you love her?“

You saw Steve’s chest expanding vehemently with an inhale and you knew that the moment was here.

“Yes,” slipped past his lips.

In the half-second that followed, your only thought was that Steve wanted you to leave this world thinking he cared about you enough for wanting it to be quick – just one word to end this and deliver the shock rather than telling the truth and waiting for the madman’s response to the revelation.

You squeezed your eyes shut, tears springing out, your body bracing for the unbearable pain and then, hopefully, nothing.

In death, there should be peace, right? No pain? Not for the dead anyway – no, pain was the privilege of survivors; years of friendship with Sam taught you that.

Five seconds passed and your brain was fried.

Not because of electricity coursing through your body, setting aflame everything in its path, no; it was because of the revelation that the only thing burning was your muscles as you had them all flexed to their limit in anticipation of agony.

Agony, which was for some reason still not coming. The discharge was never delivered and with your heart beating with nearly enough force to break your ribcage, your eyes fluttered open with a gasp, swimming in tears.

You tried to focus your blurry vision on the machine that must have circuited somehow, you saw the shadow of the man moving… but when your vision cleared, you saw that everything was still on. The lights didn’t even flicker. The needle of the polygraph continued its steady path.

But—but- how-

Blinking some more, you barely heard your kidnapper praise the result.

Steve- he-- how did he--- he couldn’t possibly- how had he lied to the machine?

Your eyes found his face, his brows furrowed in concern and… guilt? What-

He was fast to avoid your gaze, resignation settling in his features, muscles no longer tensed; as much as he could control them anyway. Only his jaw twitched again, but he refused to look up at you.

Realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

An incredible, unbelievable revelation.

Could he… could he have been telling the truth? Was it-- was it even possible that he might… love you? But-

An incredulous delighted chuckle nearly escaped your lips, but was quickly dissolved when your captor appeared in front of you, smiling brightly, finger on the remote.

“And you… do you love this man? Truly?”

You faced the ceiling as you blinked your tears away, your whole body hurting and yet basking in relief, pleasant sensation seeping into your bones through your skin like the first warm sunrays in the spring.

You’d surely make it out now, alive. The torment would haunt you, yes, but the result… if Steve accepted your answer, this might in fact be a start of something beautiful.

“Steve?” you whispered breathlessly, searching to meet his gaze, because he deserved as much, such a brave, brave man, heart on his sleeve, always doing the right thing.

He risked your rejection – as long as it meant you would live. It might seem like a natural and logical choice, but you had met people who would have most likely chosen the other option. Your ex was one, for god’s sake.

Of course, Steve wouldn’t.

“Steve, look at me, please.”

He stubbornly kept staring at the floor, his hand curling up in a loose fist. You sighed. The machine’s reassurance would have to suffice then; still, your heart sang.

Just as you parted your lips to give your answer, a deafening bang on your right forced you to duck as much as possible while strapped to the chair.

A shock wave of an explosion knocked your chair over, and you were falling-- the pain you had awaited ever since Steve said yes finally coming when your head hit the floor and everything went black.

Part 7

Tags:

@mermaidxatxheart @bobertswagert @kakakatey @ccolz88-blog @joeyrumlow@lovemeterwrites @jessyballet @bellaireland1981

Thoughts, anyone?

I could have had the ‘reader’ confess instead of Steve, but I find this much more fun to write ;) I wanted to try a different dynamic… admit it, you thought it was going to be the other way around :P or did you? Talk to me, please, if you’re willing :-*

#marvel #mcu #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #fake dating #fake dating au #nothing but the truth #anika ann

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stxn-the-mxn · 5 years ago

Text

Distant || Richie Tozier X Daughter!Reader

Request: could you write a fanfic about a losers club member x daughter ( doesn't matter which one) where pennywise turns the reader against her dad and like it works because the reader gets mad and shuts her parent out. And then she almost gets killed by pennywise but her parent saves her? thank you so much in advance! I loved your Richie x daughter imagine! - anon

***

Derry, Maine was fucking boring.

It had only taken you a couple of hours to realise this. You’d wandered around this entire town, and yet nothing had caught your eyes. How your father managed to grow up here was beyond you.

You were barely surviving the day when he’d survived years.

You swung on the hammock in the Losers clubhouse. It was extremely quiet, and you couldn’t lie that it was sort of creepy. Some of the wooden supports creaked and something told you that maybe it wasn’t safe to be there.

But Ben had said that it was safe. And you were sure that Ben could be trusted. He didn’t seem like the type to lie to a kid. Especially the kid of one of his closest friends. It had to be strong enough for you to push against it, right?

And so you did, trying to get the hammock to swing at the pace you wanted. You kicked the wooden pole harder than expected, feeling it shift. You froze as the pole came crashing to the ground. The next pole creaked, before also collapsing.

You gasped, throwing yourself out of the hammock. You watched in horror as the wooden steps came tumbling to the ground. The walls were caving in, dirt filling the clubhouse. As you coughed the dirt out of your lungs, you heard footsteps above.

“Dad? Anyone?” Your voice was shaky with fear, as everything collapsed around you. The dirt was now up to your waist, but it was rising quickly.

“Y/N?” It wasn’t a familiar voice calling your name, but any reassurance that someone was nearby was enough.

“Yes! I’m down here, and I’m trapped!”

The footstep grew louder, and a gloved hand reached down for you to grab. There was no time to see who the hand belonged to, as the dirt was up to your neck now. You felt yourself being pulled out of the dirt and placed on the ground.

“Thank you so m-” As you wiped the dirt from your eyes, you looked up to see a strange-looking clown, gripping a red balloon. You scrambled backwards, as the clown looked down sadly.

“You were all alone.” The clown’s voice was quite high and childlike, making you anxious.

“No one was around to save you. Your dad wasn’t here to save you.” You snapped your head up to look at the clown. Your father was a touchy subject.

“He wasn’t around to help you. But I’m sure you’re used to your dad being away.”

How did the clown know that? Your fathers distance from you was an unspoken thing, whether it was emotional or physical. It’s not that he didn’t love you - well maybe he didn’t, you didn’t know - it’s just that he wasn’t around much.

Whether it was because he was out on tour or he just didn’t want to see you, he was never there. That didn’t stop you from loving him. He was your dad, after all.

“He doesn’t care about you, but I’m sure you know that.”

“N-no, he cares about me. He just gets b-busy sometimes.”

The clown let out a creepy, squeaky laugh, which sent shivers down your spine. You had to get out of there.

“I’m sorry, this has been a great chat, truly, but I need to go home…” You found yourself trailing off, the clown’s words burning into your mind.

“And where is home? Y/N? Certainly not with your father. That was never your home. Your home is the circus.” The clown handed you the balloon, and you took it with shaking hands.

You turned, running away from the clown. As you left the barrens, the balloon popped, almost making you scream, but definitely making you jump. You regained your composure, running to the motel, the words “alone” and “doesn’t care” circling through your mind.

You shoved the door open, finding the six losers in the foyer, your dad pacing up and down the hall. All six of them looked up, and their faces melted into relief.

“Y/N, I called you so many times. Why didn’t you pick up?”

Patting your pocket, you discovered your phone wasn’t there. It must’ve fallen out during the clubhouse fiasco. You mentally cursed yourself. All the losers stared expectantly, clearly not paying you enough attention to figure out what had happened.

“I was so worr-”

“No, you fucking weren’t.” You said, harshly shoving past them all and running upstairs. The six adults stared at you, before looking at each other shocked.

You locked the motel room door behind you, but you could hear everyone talking downstairs.

“She’s just being a teen, Rich.” Beverly’s voice floated upstairs, making you scoff.

“She’s not usually like that… I’ve never seen her like that.”

You had been a fool, spending years trying to win over your dad. His job, drinking and other reckless activities had always taken first priority. You were just the leftovers of a drunk mistake.

Did you even hold any importance in your dad’s mind?

That fucking clown had been right.

You shoved all your clothes back into your suitcase, working quickly as you heard people coming up the stairs. You flung Richie’s bag open, finding his wallet. He wouldn’t notice $400 missing. He wouldn’t notice you missing.

The knock at the door made you tense up.

“Y/N, honey, please open the door.”

It wasn’t Richie, at least.

“Please, leave me alone right now.”

You faked a sad tone, adding a sniffle for extra effect. It was effective enough, as you heard Beverly walking away from the door.

You zipped the bag slowly, trying not to make noise. Luckily, the window was already open, and there was a balcony not too far below. You knew how to sneak out, having done it anytime Richie threw a party.

With only a minor stumble, you made it out, sneaking around the building without being spotted, thank god. You headed into town, hoping to grab some food before leaving Derry. You didn’t have a plan or a destination, but anywhere was better than L.A with Richie.

Walking onto the main road, you were surprised to find everything closed. Everything had been open just earlier today. Maybe Derry just had weird closing hours? Groaning, you realised you’d have to wait to get food after you left.

“There’s always food at the circus.”

“Fancy meeting you again.” You smiled at the clown. His voice was less offputting this time, but his laugh was still as uncomfortable to listen to.

“Come to the circus, Y/N. I’d love to have you for dinner.”

Thinking it over, you stepped forward, somewhat nervously. Something told you this might not be a good idea. Your paces quickened, and soon you were just a few steps away from the clown.

He reached out his arm, offering it to you. You eyed it nervously. But what could possibly go wrong? It was just a clown, after all.

“Take it.”

You didn’t hesitate, but your hand never reached his arm, as the world disappeared around you.

***

“Can I break the door down yet?” Richie sighed, sitting in Eddie’s room, the other Losers scattered around.

“She needs space. She almost died.” Ben placed a hand on Richie’s back, patting it twice. Richie shot up at his words.

“What do you mean she almost died?” He yelled, and Ben stepped back in surprise.

“She came in, covered in dirt. Like, a lot of dirt. So I went to the dirtiest place I know; the barrens.” The Losers listened in anticipation, Richie staring intensely.

“The clubhouse was destroyed. Filled with dirt. Her phone was sticking out of the dirt. She almost drowned in dirt.” He handed Richie the phone, and he clicked the home button. Your lockscreen was a photo of the two of you, at the zoo, the time he’d taken you for your birthday.

You were only a toddler back then, way before Richie had become the household name he was now. You were on his back, trying to feed a giraffe. Memories of that day flood back as he stares at the photo. He remembers when the giraffe had licked your face, making you giggle and smile widely.

He hadn’t seen you smile like that in years.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.” Richie left the room, turning your phone off and on again to look at that photo.

He reached his room, knocking softly. He didn’t expect you to open the door immediately and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t hear your voice. He definitely hadn’t expected the door to be unlocked. He pushed it open, calling your name softly.

Richie froze in his tracks.

NO ONE TO PROTECT HER

“Fuck. Guys!”

The Losers ran in, freezing as Richie had done. They read the words written in blood, all of their jaws dropping. Richie ran out of the room and down the stairs, the Losers following shortly behind.

He stopped at the door, spinning round to face the other five.

“Let’s kill this fucking clown.”

***

“Yeah, I dunno if this is what you call a circus, buddy.”

You complained, sitting cross-legged on the damp floor. You weren’t sure how long you’d been here, but you did know you had woken up in a puddle of water and you had not appreciated that one bit.

Trusting the clown was a dumb choice, but luckily no one but you would ever know you had willingly gone with it. Unless that shitheel of a clown told everyone.

“Usually, circuses have, like, a tent and popcorn or some shit. I don’t see any of that here. Just rocks, and water, and more rocks.”

You continued to yell to nothing. You wondered if that clown fucker could hear you. Probably.

“I understand if you’re on a budget, circuses don’t make that much money, but at least put some effort in. Would some lights be too expensive?”

Leaning against a rock, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, two seconds later, the fucking clown was there. He grabbed your throat with no hesitation, lifting you up effortlessly.

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down! I’m sorry if I offended you. I was just a bit disappointed with your choice of decorations. It’s not very circus-y, for a clown, yknow.”

Maybe you should’ve shut up. But you were a Tozier, as much as you wished you weren’t, and talking was a gift.

“So, hey, how about you put me down and we can go over some design id-”

You froze in fear as the clown’s face seemed to unhinge itself, revealing rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth. Your eyes were drawn to the three spinning lights at the bottom of its throat.

You felt like you were dying.

***

The six Losers followed the path they had followed so many years ago. It was muscle memory for them. The greywater was still as disgusting as Eddie remembered, and he made as big of a deal as the others remembered him making.

“Cmon, we gotta head down here.”

Mike gestured to the trapdoor. He pulled the cover off, revealing a seemingly never-ending ladder. They climbed down one by one, Mike and Richie leading the charge. At the bottom of the ladder, the followed the cavern to an opening.

They all squeezed through the gap, finding the cavern of spikes. And at the centre of it all, you, floating as Beverly had done. Richie ran across the cavern, tripping over some of the rocks scattered everywhere.

“No, no, no. Guys! What do we do?” Richie was panicking, more than anyone had ever seen him. You were floating quite high, higher than Beverly had, but not as high as the other kids. Richie called Eddie over, yelling at him to get on his shoulders.

“Eddie, I can’t reach her on my own! Get up!”

Eddie complied, not wanting to see Richie like this any longer. He climbed on Richie’s shoulders, grabbing your ankle and dragging you down to their level.

Your glossed over eyes brought tears to Richies’. This was all his fault. Him and his stupid jobs and stupid parties and stupid ignorance.

“I’m so sorry Y/N…”

***

You walked into your home. God, it felt great to call it that. Your perfect tiny apartment with your dad.

“Afternoon, sweetheart. How was school?” Richie’s voice drifted in from the living room.

“It was actually pretty good. Steve and I got paired up for a project, so he’ll be coming over sometime in the near future.” You called back, hearing Richie get up from the couch. He appeared in the doorframe, raising one eyebrow.

“Steve, huh?” He smirked, leaving you red in the face.

“Yeah, you got a problem with him coming over?” You tried not to laugh, as did Richie.

“No, no, not at all,” He laughed. “Ok, no jokes, you know I don’t mind Steve coming over. I love the kid.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that. It’ll ease his nerves about you.”

“He’s nervous about me? I’m the one who should be nervous. Steve’s gonna steal my little girl away.” Richie nudged your shoulder suggestively, making you gag and roll your eyes.

You headed to your room, passing Richie who was watching some trashy reality show. He gestured to a plate on the coffee table, a few slices of brownie sitting uneaten. You grabbed a slice, thanking your dad, before making it to your door.

You swung it open, reaching for the light switch, only to find nothing. You kept hitting the wall, hoping to hear that familiar click of the switch, but still nothing.

“Dad?” You yelled, running back to the living room. You screamed at the dark void staring back at you. The kitchen was gone, the bathrooms, everything. All gone, replaced with a black void.

But there, in the darkness, you could see it. Three spiralling lights, drawing you forward. You could reach out and touch them, and you felt your fingertips burning as they drew closer. You grabbed for them, only to have them disappear as you did so.

And just like that, it was dark again.

Your eyes flew open, gasping for breath. Looking around, you saw all the Losers staring at you, eyes wide in shock. Wrapped around you, hugging you, was your dad.

“Holy shit, Rich, it worked!” Eddie yelled as Richie looked you dead in the eyes.

“Y/N? Oh my fucking god, I thought I’d lost you!”

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t look your father in the eyes without tears springing to your own. He had been distant, sometimes cold, and not that great of a father, and yet here he was, saving you.

And you knew, in that moment, that he had always cared, and he would always care.

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier x daughter!reader #it #it x reader #it 2 #it 2 x reader #it chapter 2 #it chapter 2 x reader #the losers club #the losers club x reader #losers club #losers club x reader

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murderousbitch · 4 years ago

Text

trigger warning: light mentions of abuse & death.

It was no secret that the life she had left behind had not been a life one would willingly return to. In fact she hadn’t returned to Boston for several reasons--fear of what she would return to, the pain and suffering, the memories that were more like nightmares--but after so long, she had to finally return. She tried to fight it, to make Giles send someone else, anyone else, to retrieve the one of many slayers scattered across the world. But she was closer and she knew the area better than anyone. There was no other option.

Returning to a place that held so many negative feelings and thoughts, it made the already cold air cooler, causing her lungs to seize with every breath she took. God she hated the cold, memories of when her mother forgot to pay the electric bill, the countless nights spent shivering under piles of blankets. But she had to shake those thoughts and focus on the task at hand so she could get the hell out of dodge before anything happened. There was far too many possibilities of what could happen, who she could run into, and of what she could end up doing. Needless to say, she was going to follow the leads she had of the girl, Rebecca Hicks, and hope that she found the other in no time.

The hotel she was set up in was one that she had passed so many times, wondering how it felt to be sleeping on a bed that wasn’t dirty, to have a mattress that didn’t come from someone’s alley. Her mom was cheap, never had any money to spend on the essentials so there were many items that should have never been used again, especially by a little kid. But that was one of many things her mother did or failed to do, things that lingered in the back of her mind as a silent reminder to do better for herself. Needless to say her first night back was restless and sleepless, leaving the slayer laying in bed staring at the ceiling, begging to wake up from whatever nightmare this was. But it wasn’t one and she knew that, of course she knew that, but the thought of knowing she had willingly came back...it weighed on her soul.

“Damn it, Faith! I done told you not to fuckin’ touch my things,” the woman belted out as she towered over the seven year old, finger wagging in her face before the cold harsh slap came.

Her ears ringed from the impact of the slap, her cheek stinging as a hand print formed. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked up at her mother, still holding the small eye shadow case. “I’m sorry, momma...I just...I’m sorry,” she muttered, handing it back only to have it forcibly taken from her hands.

She must have fallen asleep, the memory dream waking her up violently. Heart pounding in her chest, tears rolling down her cheeks, her breath coming fast as she sat up in bed. “It wasn’t real...” she told herself, shaking her head as she wiped at her eyes, trying to slow her breathing. But it had been real, had happened a long time ago, even if it did feel like it had just happened. After that, Faith couldn’t sleep so she got up and took a shower before getting dressed and grabbing the case file she had on Rebecca. She would start off with the basics, start looking in the girls usual hang out spots, her home, places like that. Then she would reach out and tap into other sources.

Rebecca’s home had been a bust as was her school. However she wasn’t giving up hope on finding the girl, knowing she was somewhere in Boston. Thing about being a slayer, they shared a connection and could sense when others were around so it was just a matter of time before she found her. Though, admittedly, as she walked around the town she once called home, she had a feeling of dread, fearing that every corner she turned, she would see her mother. Logically she knew it would be a possibility of running into her mother, but she was praying that it didn’t happen. But with the longer she wandered around, checking out each lead she had, the more the area felt familiar until there she was.

The house had never been in the best of shape but it looked worse than it had the last time she saw it. Staring up at the window that had been her bedroom a lifetime ago, the slayer swallowed thickly as she stood in the yard. No one was living there, hadn’t for quite sometime, the NO TRESPASSING sign on the door coupled with the tell tale sign of emptiness was all she needed to know. A neighbor took notice of her standing there after what seemed like hours, the brunettes eyes finally tearing from the wreckage of her childhood to look to them.

“If you’re lookin’ for the owner, you’re ‘bout six or so years too late,” the man muttered as he crossed the joint yards, pausing when he got a good look of the woman. “Ah hell...you’re Donna’s kid ain’t ya?” he asked, head tilting as he looked through the bottom of his glasses.

There really was no denying it, Faith knew that and so she gave a nod. “Yeah, that’s me. Donna’s kid,” she mumbled, eyes falling to the ground as knots began to form in her stomach. Something was wrong, had been wrong, the way he said she was six years too late... “She’s dead ain’t she?” she asked, eyes briefly glancing to the man.

He nodded, rough and calloused hands rubbing together to keep whatever heat was there. “Heart attack six years ago...May of 2006...yeah that’s right. ‘M sorry you gotta find out this way, no one knew where you were or else I’m sure somebody woulda called...” and with that, he gently placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder before he began to walk back to his home.

Deep down she had always known her mother was gone, had succumbed to her addictions. But hearing it, knowing for certain? It left her feeling a mixture of emotions. So with that information, she gave the house one last look before she walked back to the rental car and drove off. It’d be the last time she’d see the house on 1490 SE Hyland St.

Almost as if her mind was in autopilot, Faith found herself sitting outside of the cemetery where her grandmother Etta was buried. She knew that’s where her mother would be, where most folks in this part of town were buried. Getting out of the car, she made the trek into the cemetery and found her way to her grandmothers grave. It had taken her a bit, getting turned around as she hadn’t been there since she was a child, but when she found the weathered plot and the newer one next to it, she knew she’d found them.

Donna Renee Lehane Mother. Daughter. Wife 13, April 1966 - 25, May 2006 May the angels guide you home.

Again, a mixture of emotions clawed as they worked through her system as she read the plot. Silent tears running down cheeks, not sure if they were out of sadness, anger, relief, or all of the above. But that’s all she could do or show, was stand there and cry as memories flooded her mind, none of which painted her mother in the best of light. And in truth, Faith didn’t have many good memories of her mother, all the bad ones out weighing the good and burying them. So after a half hour of standing in the cold, the sky growing dark, she tore herself from the graves and began to walk towards the entrance.

In the midst of wiping at her face, the slayer tripped over a root and caught herself before her face met marble. Cursing to no one but herself and the dead that slept, she pushed herself up only to be met with a name that she had done her best to never think of or speak.

Ronald “Ronnie” Gallo Son. Brother. Friend. 23, Dec. 1975 - 08, Sep. 2001 Heaven earned a new angel.

The guttural sound she made when she read the epitaph on Ronnie’s gravestone sounded inhuman to her own ears. However it was the only reaction she ever had when she thought of the other, Ronnie having been one of the people who traumatized her just as much as her own mother had. There were no good memories of the man nor feelings as tear filled eyes stared at the marker. She had spent so much time wishing she had killed him, the only person she truly wished she had killed, or wishing he was dead in general. And now knowing that her wish had came true, there was an emptiness in her that was quickly filled with rage.

Disrespecting the dead was frowned upon by many, but Ronnie Gallo deserved no such thing. Scrambling to her feet, the slayer looked around in a fit of rage until her eyes settled on a broken piece of stone before she moved back to the marker. She had nearly beaten him to death the day she was called as the next slayer, but that wasn’t enough, no, no he deserved more. So with the strength she used to take back her freedom, she smashed and busted the grave marker, a scream twisted into a growl leaving her as she demolished and made sure no one knew who laid there six feet under the ground.

It’s unsure how much time passed between destroying the grave, getting in the car, and mindlessly driving to the furthest bar. But when she poured herself onto a stool at the bar, Faith truly wished she had pawned the job off onto one of the others. Because her biggest fear had came to light even if two monsters from her past were now dead, it didn’t matter. She’d faced them and now had to quell the memories out of fear of if she didn’t, she would spiral out. So as she sat there, she drank every beer that was placed in front of her before she switched to something harder, not even noticing that the bartender wasn’t exactly human. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have cared because nothing mattered in that moment. Not him, not Rebecca, not herself, nor the monsters that had chased her for years.

However in a moment of clarity, dark eyes finally rested on the face of the man who hadn’t questioned her and provided the drinks. He had a charming face, rugged, looked like he had seen some shit in his life as well. She would later find out what his name was, Deeks, and he would soon aid in helping her reground herself and get back on track with her whole reason of being there. But for that first night, Deeks just kept her company and kept an eye on her while she indulged herself and prayed her mind to be quiet.

However, Faith should have known that her mind would never be quiet. Not for long.

#( filling in the blank pages | drabble )#( home sweet home | drabble 01 )#traqictales

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