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ijustwant2write · 4 years ago

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Causing A Fuss-Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

(GIF credit to @hvitserkk)

Masterlist

Requested by @elennox03 : Can you write an imagine where Anthony’s wife is pregnant and she’s at the very end of her pregnancy and he is trying to make her stay in bed and rest but she refuses and she’s somewhere in the house and she goes into labor and Anthony freaks out and then after the baby is born a little cute dad Anthony fluff?

Characters: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader, Hyacinth Bridgerton x Reader (sister-in-law), Violet Bridgerton x Reader (mother-in-law)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Pregnancy side effects, labour, mention of blood, fluff fluff fluff

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Anthony's strides were quick as he explored the house, desperately seeking his wife. Members of staff were ambushed with questions, startled by his tone. When he didn't get the answer he wanted, he would huff and storm off again. Where was his beloved? She wasn't where she was supposed to be.

(Y/N) laid back on the sofa as Hyacinth fanned her, the pregnant woman also fanning herself. She was just too hot, she was tired and her feet felt like they had been hit with a hammer. Her shoes were on the floor, it was far too painful to be wearing them.

"Thank you so much darling." (Y/N) said to her sister-in-law.

"Is it really that bad?" Hyacinth asked.

(Y/N) wanted to say yes. Despite pregnancy being an extraordinary feeling, the emotions and connections you made with your unborn child were confusing, there were quite a few downsides; the sickness, the tiredness, not being able to fit into your dresses or shoes, as well as feeling every single type of emotion everyday. But after seeing the young girls scared face, she knew she couldn't be entirely truthful.

"No, of course not." (Y/N) smiled, sitting up slightly."It can just get a little tiring sometimes. Have you ever held a baby?"

She nodded.

"It was heavier than you imagined, hm? Well, my baby is a little heavy right now. But they will be here soon."

"I'm very excited to meet them. I can't wait to be an auntie!"

(Y/N) melted at that."You'll be an amazing auntie."

"Here you are." Anthony entered the room, relieved to see (Y/N), until he saw what state she was in."What is wrong? Hyacinth, why didn't you fetch for me sooner?"

Anthony rushed to his wife's side, snatching the fan from his sister and fanning his wife. (Y/N) was irritated whenever Anthony was like this, it was sweet that he cared, but her fuse was short. She was resting, not bed ridden.

"I am not returning to bed Anthony. I do not wish to bicker with you." (Y/N) made it clear."I am just hot, that is all."

"The doctor advised that you stay in bed for most of the day-"

"Anthony, I cannot stay cooped up all day, laying down and doing nothing. I would go simply mad. And I have spoken to friends who are or have been pregnant, none of them did that."

"They are not professionally trained."

"That doctor has never carried a baby."

"(Y/N) said it isn't that heavy." Hyacinth spoke up.

Anthony slowly turned his head to his sister. "This is a matter for the grown ups. Go and...play somewhere."

Hyacinth knew better than to argue with Anthony, rolling her eyes before leaving. (Y/N) pursed her lips at her husband's behaviour.

"Did I ever mention how amazing you are with children?"

Anthony smirked."Well, it's a bit late to be getting lessons on childcare, isn't it?"

(Y/N) giggled, taking Anthony's hand and placing it on her bump. Anthony loved touching her growing bump. It had been strange to see his wife changing shape before his eyes. He was so used to her body having run his hands over every angle, seeing it every day from the time they were married. But it made him fall even more in love with her, if that was even possible. Anthony could write a hundred pages expressing his love for his wife, and it would still never be enough.

"I still can't believe we're having a baby." he breathed out.

(Y/N) scoffed."Are you saying I've always looked like this?"

Anthony laughed."Of course not. But no matter how much you talk about such a thing, no matter how much preparation you do, it just seems surreal."

(Y/N) hummed in response, putting her hand on top of his."I've loved carrying them, but it is time for them to come out into the world."

"Still not saying whether it's a boy or girl?"

(Y/N) shook her head."I just don't feel one way about it. Not that I care about that, as long as they're healthy."

"I still say boy."

"You would."

"You just said you didn't care."

"I don't."

"(Y/N), please can you just promise me one thing?"

"Anthony, I am not staying in bed-"

"Stay by my side as much as possible. The baby is due soon and I want to ensure you are safe when the time comes."

"Oh, Anthony, I'm with you for a majority of the day anyway."

"I know but, if there are moments where I am not present, I want to have a sound mind that you are in safe hands, such as family or a member of staff."

"Well, you know I'm not going to be leaving the house, much to my annoyance. So I will be guarded all day and night."

"You're making it sound like you're a prisoner."

"I'm just being dramatic. I just want to meet our child now."

"Well, I can't deny either of those statements."

Anthony wasn't exaggerating when he said he wanted (Y/N) beside him at all times. From then on, they were seen with each other anywhere they went in the house. Anthony didn't go out as much as he did, and he instructed there always be staff in every room and corridor. She didn't mind it, however, as her due date grew closer, the more nervous she became. Unfortunately, that meant her temper was shorter, she became more snappy and tired, and she didn't want everyone constantly reminding her that she was about to give birth. (Y/N) tried so hard to not take it out on her husband, but because he was the one always beside her, he was the only person she could lash out at.

"Anthony, I'm sorry but I just need a few moments alone. I'll return soon, just...let me calm down. I'm sorry." she apologised as she walked away from him, having screamed about how frustrated she was.

She didn't hide her deep breathing as she waddled down the corridors, passing by staff that worryingly watched her. (Y/N) wanted to calm her heart rate, try and clear her mind. Feeling too many eyes on her, (Y/N) escaped into the nearest room, slamming the door shut behind her.

"(Y/N)?" Hyacinth said behind her.

(Y/N) sighed. Would she ever be alone again?

"What are you doing in my playroom? I thought you would be with Anthony."

She was playing with her dolls, three propped up in mini chairs, as was she, as they indulged in an imaginary afternoon tea. (Y/N) couldn't help but smile at that, envisioning her child playing in this room.

"Sorry darling, I just...I needed some time away from the grown ups."

"Oh, alright. Would you like to join us for tea?" she gestured to the chair beside her, causing (Y/N) to laugh.

"I don't think I would fit in that chair, even if I wasn't with child. I'll take the rocking chair. You carry on darling, I'm sorry for the interruption."

Her aching feet carried her to the chair, cautiously lowering down onto it. She rocked her heels back and forth, though did so slowly in case it caused any nausea. Hyacinth continued her game as if (Y/N) wasn't there, but kept her voice quiet to be respectful. (Y/N) closed her eyes, finally feeling the stress lift for just a moment when a jolt of pain in her stomach startled her. It made her let out a cry, clutching onto her bump as she leaned forward. Hyacinth jumped at the sudden noise, suddenly frightened at the way (Y/N) sounded and looked.

(Y/N)'s breathing got faster and deeper, yelling out as an unbearable feeling coursed through her. Her hands wrapped around her torso, willing the feeling to stop. A shocked noise escaped her when she felt herself go wet in the chair, liquid dripping down her legs.

"Hyacinth, get Anthony!" (Y/N) groaned, thankful a staff member rushed in. Hyacinth didn't have to be told twice, running as quickly as she could to fetch her brother. She had never seen anyone in such a state, no one had ever mentioned this pain when having a baby. Tears were in her eyes as she finally found Anthony, who was standing with her two other brothers at the staircase.

"Hyacinth, what's wrong?" Benedict was the first to notice the little girl running towards him.

She immediately grabbed Anthony's hand, gripping tightly onto it."Quickly!"

"What's happened?" Anthony asked her her fretting.

"(Y/N)'s having the baby!"

A second of silence passed before Anthony sprinted in the direction his sister came from. He only had to follow the sound of screaming to find his wife. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen, she was meant to be upstairs in a comfortable position, surrounded by women staff that were prepared. He halted in the doorway when he saw her clutching onto the servant's arm as she struggled to stand from the chair. He snapped an order at another servant who followed him. The doctor had to get here as soon as possible, and the other students needed to prepare immediately.

"It's alright my love, I'm here. The doctor is on his way." Anthony reassured her as he took her other arm.

"I'm in so much pain Anthony." she wept."I can't do it, I can't do it, I don't have control over my own body. I'm frightened!"

Anthony's heart was shattering into a million pieces seeing his wife like this. He couldn't do anything to help. He couldn't ease the pain. If he could, he would take all of the pain she had and endure it himself. Anthony was a mix of emotions; fear for his wife, excitement to meet his child, terrified at (Y/N)'a reactions and noises. It was all too much, nothing would have prepared him for this.

"Anthony, you must leave!" Violet suddenly appeared.

"Mama, I can't leave her-"

"You wouldn’t want to see this Anthony. Go wait for the doctor, we all know what we’re doing here.”

Anthony knew of the steps to take in this event, it was not proper for a man to be present during the ordeal of birthing. But the love for (Y/N) was urging him to stay and protect her, that was what he was supposed to do as a husband, not abandon her. They went through everything together. Now he was being told to leave because of societies rules.

Benedict and Colin were able to pull away Anthony easier than they thought, due to him being frozen and confused about what he should do. He only registered that (Y/N) was calling for him after they left the room. Fighting against his brothers hold, he ignored their please for him to stop. They didn’t understand. They weren’t married, they had no idea what it was like to be bonded with someone in this way. However, he knew they were right, he had to stay away. All he could do now was help her from outside of the room.

“Where is the doctor?!” he demanded to know from the nearest servant.

“H-he has b-been called upon, Lord Bridgerton.” they stuttered.

“As soon as he arrives, he is to be brought here, quickly! Gather pillows, as many as you can, and blankets, we must ensure my wife is as comfortable as she can be. She should have been giving birth in a bed!”

Benedict and Colin stood back in silence, shocked by the quick turn around in their brother’s behaviour. They didn’t dare say anything in case they were snapped at.

(Y/N) was clinging onto Violet’s hand as she screamed, hating the way her body had taken over and she couldn’t take back control. Violet remained calm, knowing that (Y/N) could do this. She had birthed all of her children with no complications, she knew how much women had to endure, so Violet was equipped with the necessary grit and vigour to help her daughter-in-law. (Y/N) was grateful to have Violet there.

A gruelling eight hours passed, filled with (Y/N) screaming, crying, cursing, pleading and begging for Anthony. It took every ounce of his willpower to not dash back to her, he would never forgive himself for this. He wished he could change the rules so he could be beside her. He paced with a strong drink in his hand for those eight hours, his brothers sitting down, trying to support him. However, it was getting late, and they found themselves struggling to keep their eyes open. Anthony had got rid of his jacket, sleeves rolled up and shirt buttons undone as he got warm, fretting over what was happening to (Y/N).

“Lord Bridgerton!” a servant exclaimed as they entered the room, trying to stay composed.

The men perked up, suddenly awake. Anthony noticed the servant was smiling, which made him relieved.“What is it?”

“Lady Bridgerton has given birth.”

Anthony didn’t need to hear anything else. He instantly ran to where his poor wife had been in labour. Hyacinth would never step foot in that room again. He pushed past anyone that got in his way, halting at the open doors to the playroom. The first thing he saw was blood, a lot of it, alarmed at the sight. But as he entered the room, it was forgotten about when he saw (Y/N)’s grin aimed at the baby wriggling around in her arms. His steps were slow as he approached, scared that he would disturb the peace that had finally fallen in this room.

“Anthony.” (Y/N) breathed out, clearly exhausted.

“I’m sorry.” was all Anthony could manage, eyes still fixed on his child.

“For what?”

“For not being here.”

“You’re here now, and I understand darling. Now come meet your son.”

Anthony’s eyes widened.“I-I have a son? We have a baby boy?”

The doctor who had been crouched beside (Y/N) smiled at the Lord, standing to give the couple their space.“Yes, Lord Bridgerton, you’re now a father and have a son, who is very healthy, just like his mother.”

Violet also backed away, beaming down at her eldest son. She had never imagined him married and settled down so quickly, she expected to have many more years of her son fooling around with women not of a certain standard. Once (Y/N) waltzed in, Violet had seen a change in Anthony, and hope was restored in the Viscount.

“He’s finally here.” (Y/N) smiled as Anthony sat beside her.

“He really is.” one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders, whilst the other supported her arms holding the baby.“You’re amazing. You did this (Y/N).”

“We did it.”

“No, no, you did this all by yourself. I’ll be with you every time form now on.”

“Every time? How many are you planning to have?”

He chuckled.“We’ll discuss that later.”

(Y/N) giggled, gently kissing the top of their baby’s forehead. Anthony couldn’t stop smiling, repeating (Y/N)’s actions to her. He had never envisioned this, he didn’t want to be trapped in this life at first. He had so many responsibilities dumped on him after his father died, he wanted to make sure his family was secure and have the freedom for himself; until he met (Y/N), and suddenly, he could see his entire future planned in front of him with this woman. He never fathomed that his heart could give anymore love for anyone else in this world, and he had been proven wrong. (Y/N) was the love of his life, as was his son, and he would protect and cherish them for the rest of his life.

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blu-joons · 3 years ago

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Telling Him You’re A Virgin ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

The moment your friend decided to make a joke about you being a virgin as you sat to dinner with Jin, and your friendship group had you livid. It was a conversation that the two of you had been itching to discuss until you finally made your way back to his car as your evening came to an end, desperate to clear the air.

Just as you went to speak, he managed to get in first. “I don’t care that you’re still a virgin, I just really want to make that clear to you.”

“I’m sorry,” you then confessed, “it wasn’t her position to say anything, but I’d understand if you were shocked or maybe a little taken aback.”

“I was a little, but mainly because I thought someone would have snapped up someone like you,” he admitted, “it’s not something that I feel negatively about though, in the slightest.”

“Really?” You questioned of him.

“Whilst I definitely think there was a better way of me finding out, it’s no big deal as far as I’m concerned. What’s most important is that you lose your virginity when you’re ready to, not when anyone else tells you that you should.”

“That’s actually really good advice Jin.”

“I’ve followed that my whole life, not just with sex,” he quickly assured you, “it doesn’t change the fact that I still very much want to be with you.”

“I’m glad it doesn’t, because I still very much want to be with you too.”

Yoongi:

You were expecting a remark or a moment of frustration from Yoongi when you told him that you were still a virgin, yet instead he remained silent until you were finished speaking. As you did, he simply shrugged back at you, staring at you as he tried to figure out why you’d got yourself so overwhelmed by it all.

His arm wrapped around your shoulders, “still being a virgin is no big deal at all, you shouldn’t let it be such a big problem for you Y/N.”

“You make it sound like it’s not a big deal,” you smiled, “but plenty of people have made me feel like it should be a big deal for me.”

His head shook in frustration, “this is what I hate, that such a stigma is put on being a virgin, when there really is so much more to life than the fact that you may or may not have had sex.”

“Don’t get angry,” you whispered.

“I’m not angry with you,” he quickly reassured you, “I just hate that so many people and things have made you feel like you need to have such a difficult conversation with me about this when it’s nothing at all.”

“I didn’t really know how to tell you.”

“You should be able to tell me though,” he continued to groan, “I don’t care, virgin or not, that doesn’t change the person that you are or the person that I like.”

“I know it doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop me being relieved to have told you.”

Hoseok:

It felt strange for you to feel Hobi’s serious eyes watching you as you told him that you were a virgin. The moment the two of you had shared had quickly fallen apart, fear washed over you before you could let your embrace get any further, leaving Hobi surprised, but incredibly understand of everything as well.

He rolled away from on top of you to your side, “why didn’t you just say rather than getting yourself worked up like this to be scared?”

“Because I thought I could do it,” you frowned, tilting your head to glance across at him, “but suddenly it all just got very overwhelming.”

He nudged gently into your side, “you should have just said something, I wouldn’t have been mad or anything like that, you know that? I would have understood everything.”

“I know you would,” you sighed.

“I get that the first time is probably quite daunting,” he spoke, appreciating how sudden it all became for you, “if I knew then I wouldn’t have been so intense, that probably can’t have helped the way that you were feeling.”

“I won’t allow you to blame yourself Hobi.”

“I know,” he chuckled, “but now I know, and now I can be understanding next time, and try and move things at a pace we’re both comfortable with.”

“I’d like that a lot, I’m just sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Namjoon:

You knew as soon as you admitted to Namjoon that you were still a virgin that you were in for a reassuring lecture, and of course, he far from disappointed. You could see him itching to speak as you told him what was on your mind, and as you finally finished, you could barely close your mouth before he spoke up.

His hand held onto your as he did so, “we’ve all been through this moment at some point in our lives, it’s not as big a deal as people think.”

“But you’re not a virgin,” you reminded him, “I just feel like I should have lost my virginity by now, I never thought I’d be like this at my age.”

Namjoon continued to sigh, “be like what? I would never want you to rush into something that you’re not ready doing, at any age, whether it’s sex, or anything else in the world.”

“You’re good at this,” you joked.

“I know,” he smugly responded, “but I get where you’re coming from. I thought my virginity was something that I should have lost straight away, and for a while, it felt strange when I didn’t, but it’s not something to be ashamed about.”

“You’ve made me feel a lot better.”

“Good,” he chimed, offering you a wide smile, “don’t keep things like this bottled up, talk to me, and I’ll be there for you, no matter how stupid you think it is.”

“I’m incredibly lucky to have you, I can’t quite believe it.”

Jimin:

As you glanced across at Jimin, for once you could see a genuine and sincere colour in his eyes. Whilst so many of your conversations were tinted with a joke and a smile, he could see the importance that came with you telling him that you were still a virgin, clearly able to see how it bothered you and left you worrying.

The moment you fell silent, his voice spoke up, “are you telling me this because you’re scared? Worried that I’ll leave or something?”

“That’s exactly the reason,” you admitted, “I always imagined that no one would ever want to be the first of someone who’s never had sex.”

A heavy sigh came from him, “you couldn’t be more wrong,” he responded to you, “if, it’s me, or anyone else, it would be an honour to be your first, and something so important.”

“Really?” You shyly quizzed.

“Of course,” he whispered down to you, pulling you into his chest, “it’s nothing something you should feel ashamed or embarrassed about. Everyone loses their virginity at different rates and moments in their life.”

“I wish my moment would come.”

“We’re not going to rush anything,” he replied, implying he hoped your moment would be with him, “but I’m not going to go anywhere.”

“I’m relieved to hear you say that Chim, thank you for being there.”

Taehyung:

The blank expression on Taehyung’s face as you confided to him that you were still a virgin had you confused. He looked back at you as if you’d told him nothing, far from telling him something that had been eating away at you for so long. As far as he was concerned, you’d told him something natural, nothing to be scared of.

After a moment of silence, he finally spoke up. “Why do I feel like you’re expecting me to be mad or something like that.”

“I thought you’d at least judge me,” you admitted, “that’s what so many other people do, and yet you’re sat like it’s no big deal.”

His hand stretched across the table for you to take a hold of, “that’s because all of this really is no big deal. I’d be a fool to judge you based on the fact you’re a virgin, it’s nothing.”

“Do you think?” You questioned.

“Absolutely,” he chimed, squeezing your hand a little bit tighter. “Everyone has been a virgin, some people die a virgin, but I wouldn’t judge them either. What’s important is that you’re comfortable, not what others think.”

“Do you think it’s stupid?”

“No,” he whispered, smiling softly back at you, “but if it’s something you feel insecure about, then I don’t want it to be. I want you to be comfortable with who you are.”

“I am comfortable around you Tae, more than anyone else.”

Jungkook:

As you spoke and told Jungkook what had been on your mind for the past couple of weeks, he simply wrapped a tight arm around you. His head nodded when it needed to, to make sure that you knew he understood, and that he was right there and supporting you as you finally admitted to him that you were still a virgin.

Once you finished speaking, his smile grew, “I thought something serious had been bothering you all this time.”

“You don’t think this is serious?” You questioned, relieved when his head nodded, and soft giggle escaped from him.

He reached across and kissed the side of your head, “being a virgin is no big deal, you should have just told me rather than let yourself get so worked up about something so small.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t apologise,” he chuckled, pulling you tighter into his side. “I’m glad it’s nothing big that was causing you to worry, but most of all, I hope you know that this is something you don’t need to worry about.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he grinned, “we’re still young, and I think you should wait until you’re ready, there’s nothing wrong with waiting for the right time.”

“I’m glad, because I think maybe I’ve found that right time.”

---

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iobsessoverfictionalmen · 2 years ago

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Labyrinth AU - Sequel

Maxim Horvath x Female Reader

Chapter 3

AN: I apologise for the delay with this chapter. There's a line from the Eragon movie (it's not a very good book adaptation but it had good lines and good moments) in here, so see if you can spot that.

You thought that because you had some experience with magic that you would find Balthazar and Maxim’s training a little easier than Dave. You were wrong. The training sessions that Balthazar and Maxim put you, Dave, and Drake through were incredibly gruelling and you often ended the training sessions on your back, panting and wishing for the comfort of your bed.

As you had suspected, Maxim and Balthazar had been holding back a lot in their duel in the labyrinth. You and Dave were often left open-mouthed at the way both of your teachers could manipulate magic to challenge you.

You had the feeling that Drake was similarly impressed by the mastery that Maxim and Balthazar possessed although he didn’t show it like you and Dave did. Before Dave could even ask why, Drake scoffed and said, “We are learning from Rumplestiltskin’s apprentices themselves and you doubt that Rumplestiltskin would have let them leave their apprenticeships without demonstrating anything less than mastery?”

Drake disappeared without a sound before Dave could respond and Dave quickly pivoted on his heel to face you, “Do you believe him?”

Still feeling hurt and angry over the way he had treated you, you snapped back, “You doubt the words of a sorcerer that’s older than us and has more experience using magic in this world and most likely in the normal world?”

Dave let out a frustrated huff of air and ran his hand through his hair, “You have to admit this is a lot to process.”

Your anger lessened and your tone softened, “Believe me, I know it’s a lot to process but look at how far we’ve come. You managed to get that plasma ball to split in four directions and surround the dummy. The Dave that first came to the labyrinth probably would’ve knocked himself unconscious with the plasma ball.”

Dave cracked a smile and chuckled dryly, “That’s true. Your training seems to be coming along nicely too. You almost defeated Balthazar today; if he hadn’t flipped the magic in his hand and sent it back towards you, you would’ve won. You seem to have a talent for manipulating magic and turning it into different shapes. How’d you learn to do that?”

A smile appeared on your face, mirroring the one Dave had on his face, “I learnt how to do it by training with Maxim. The first time I did it, I exerted too much energy and knocked myself out.”

Dave’s smile shrunk and the laughter in his eyes dimmed, “I bet Horvath took that well.”

Your smile remained as you remembered your kiss with the Goblin King, “He wasn’t impressed.”

“You mentioned something about “too much energy”?” Dave inquired curiously.

“Think of using magic as using any other type of energy,” Drake’s voice and sudden reappearance caused you and Dave to jump in surprise. Drake chuckled at your reactions before he continued talking, “You must learn your limits, both physical and magical. Some spells leave you weak, other spells can leave you unconscious and yet other spells, if you use them before you are ready, they’ll kill you.”

Drake’s tone had turned sombre at the end.

No one spoke for a few minutes as you absorbed what Drake had said. Unexpectedly, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up and a cracking sound caused your heart to sink all the way down to your toes.

Without even looking at Drake or Dave, you span around and sprinted to the room where you had left Maxim and Balthazar. The thudding of two sets of feet told you that Drake and Dave were closely pursuing you.

You abruptly skidded to a stop at the entrance to the room when you saw that Maxim and Balthazar were in the middle of a duel with a man that you guessed was Rumplestiltskin because who else would’ve forced their way into the labyrinth?

Even working together, Balthazar and Maxim were barely a match for Rumplestiltskin. They were both on the defensive, desperately countering Rumplestiltskin’s magical blows. Dave created a plasma bolt as he ran past you and into the fight.

Rumplestiltskin cackled as he summoned three manticores. The feeling of dread grew as you watched Maxim and Balthazar be separated as the manticores pushed their way between the two sorcerers. Dave froze as the third manticore prowled towards him leisurely and the plasma ball flickered twice in Dave’s hand before it vanished.

Inhaling deeply after glancing at Drake, you focused on the manticore that was attempting to corner Maxim.

“If I can stop this manticore, Maxim can stop the other two manticores. Maybe Rumplestiltskin will be so shocked that we can end this battle now and use the peach.”

You focused on the manticore’s paws and you imagined them turning to stone. You felt the drain on your magic almost instantly as your magic leapt forward. The manticore paused mid step, sniffed the air, and looked down at its paws before shaking its mane and resuming its stalk.

You couldn’t see when your magic connected with the manticore but you felt it when it did. It almost felt like you and the manticore were connected by a thin stream of magic that grew thicker and heavier by the second.

The manticore paused and looked at its paws again. This time, it let out a fierce roar because patches of grey had appeared on both of its front paws. The manticore lowered its maw to its paws and began to try and remove the patches by licking them.

This just sped up the growth of the patches and before the manticore could raise its head again, it became a stone statue.

You doubled over panting as the spell ended and Maxim commanded the tail of the manticore who was stalking Balthazar to bite itself wordlessly. Once that manticore had collapsed onto the ground with a heavy thud, Balthazar reacted quickly; he turned the manticore that was stalking Dave into ice and then with a quick flick of his fingers, the manticore disintegrated into mist.

“Absolutely splendid,” Rumplestiltskin crowed after a sinister set of chuckles, “clearly, I picked the wrong sibling in the family to appeal to.”

You saw Dave stiffen where he was standing and the plasma ball reappeared in his hand.

“Wanting what you can’t have, Rumple?” Drake snickered, “You seem fixated on the unattainable.”

The laughter vanished from Rumplestiltskin and the air crackled with the promise of dangerous magic. “I wouldn’t mock me child,” Rumplestiltskin growled, “I did have a family and speaking of family, why do you think your great-aunt only visited once a year?”

Aghast, Drake looked at Rumplestiltskin.

You and Dave looked between Drake and Rumplestiltskin.

“That’s right,” Rumplestiltskin purred, “it always coincided with the powerful moon around the harvest festival where my magic was at its strongest. An illusion here, an illusion there and bam!” Rumplestiltskin mimed an explosion with his hands, “You have your great aunt. Did you never wonder where your talent for illusions came from? It’s a family gift, dear boy.”

Drake recoiled as if he’d been slapped.

“You always liked the sound of your own voice, Rumplestiltskin,” Balthazar growled out from next to the remaining manticore and you felt a surge of admiration for the sorcerer’s skill; you had been so wrapped up in listening to Rumplestiltskin that you hadn’t noticed anything that indicated that Balthazar had moved.

For a second, fear flashed over Rumplestiltskin’s face and he took a step forward uncertainly.

Balthazar moved quicker. He wrapped a hand around the manticore’s leg and closed his eyes.

There was a whoosh of magic and a rush of colour that forced you to turn away and close your eyes. When you slowly opened them, Rumplestiltskin was nowhere to be seen, the stone manticore was in pieces all around the room and Balthazar lay immobile on the ground.

Out of all of you, Maxim was the closest to Balthazar and he strode over to Balthazar’s still form with three large strides before kneeling carefully next to him.

“Foolish imbecile,” Maxim spat as he climbed back to his feet. “He overexerted himself by banishing Rumplestiltskin and feeding magic into the wards. He’s going to be unconscious for at least a week.”

#mywriting #labyrinth au #the sorcerer's apprentice au #maxim horvath #maxim horvath x reader #dave stutler #drake stone #balthazar blake #reader insert

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umiarumi · 3 years ago

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fucking three houses | prologue/claude von riegan

afab she/her reader, originally posted on my ao3, myukyu <3

Twirling my sword, an excited grin fell upon my face as I jogged alongside Dorte and Marianne. "Hah! Marie, ya think I can keep up your old steed's pace?" I asked excitedly, huffing slightly. The academy had really buffed your stamina, shit, enough to keep up with a damn horse.

"Oh, (Y/N)! I-um, don't strain yourself since we have nearly reached the monastery." She hesitantly called out, brow furrowing. I laughed it off, nodding as I slowed my pace to meet Raphael jogging, carrying a very unamused Lysithea.

"What's up, you two?" I asked, grinning. The behemoth of a man beamed back, motioning his head to the pouting smaller girl in his arms.

"Lysithea here was starting to struggle, so as a good big bro- I mean, uh, friend! As a good friend, I'm helping keep up!" He cheered, laughing.

"I'll remind you, you thoughtless fool, I am not a child! I am quite the opposite, now." Lysithea barked out at Raphael, folding her arms.

I chuckled, shaking my head. I missed these guys, and once we make it to the monastery... well, teach better have kept his promise and not died on us. ~~~~ ~~~~ PROLOGUE END ~~~~ ~~~~ "Ahh... now this one is gonna fill the spot, thanks, prof!" You cheered, excitedly flicking your eyes between your delicious meal of Beast Meat and your slightly concerned professor.

"That smell... it's amazing! My fav, in fact. Do you like it too?" Claude nodded with you, looking to Byleth out of curiousity. Easygoing, huh?

"I like it."

Usually, you'd laugh at your teacher's blunt speech, yet that meat was begging you to devour it and hey- who are you to deny its wishes? Being back at the monastery with your class and teacher as much as you'd loved being back in your home country, you had a soft spot for the Golden Deer. But five years had changed the lot of you, various glowups being noticed, by the way. Yet, Claude caught your attention the most. Which, being honest, wasn't out of the norm, hell, for anyone!

As you tore through your meat, you caught your former classmate stifling a chuckle at your pure ferocity.

"Oi! Got thomething to thay," You quickly swallowed. "What's so funny!?" You annoyedly accused, slamming a hand on the table. He let out a laugh, shaking his head.

"Easy tiger! You just looked awfully cute with your cheeks stuffed."

You felt your cheeks darken, clicking your tongue as you went back to your meal. "Smooth, dickhead..." You mumbled as your teacher let out a sigh at the two of youse antics. As you all continue to eat, a comfortable silence fell upon your trio.

"That aside, I am glad to see you also returning. I heard from Lorenz that you had disappeared for a while." Your teacher finally spoke, looking to you. Your eyebrows rose in surprise as you let a crooked grin creep up your face.

"Funny you say that. How about yourself, five years asleep! Did any lucky gal or guy come to give you that awakening kiss~" You cooed, switching the topic onto him. You had no idea what you could say without getting yourself and Claude in an unknown amount of trouble.

He raised a brow at your dodging of the question but ultimately let it go. "I did not get kissed, no."

Claude piped up from his suspicious silence, leaning in to pester teach. "Ya sure? You were pretty popular back at the academy!" You snickered after this comment, nodding to egg him on.

"I believe we've finished the meal. I shall see the two of you later." He promptly stood up with his plate and cutlery, returning them to the kitchen before strutting off in his usual stern demeanour.

"Aw, we scared him off!" You jokingly whined, leaning onto Claude. Teasing your no-nonsense teacher was great since he's as clueless as Seteth with three times the patience.

"How will we ever apologise?" Claude moaned alongside you, resting his head on yours melodramatically. You tittered together before recovering and bringing your dirty dishes to the kitchen. Leaving the dining hall, you two walked in silence.

You walked with no aim for a while until Claude stopped. You turned to him, intrigued. Tilting your head, you asked him a question.

"Something up?"

He smiled softly, shaking his head.

"Nah, but I would like to ask you some things." He said, and the lack of a comedic tone set off a minor alarm in your brain. You were no stranger to his inquisitive nature, having known him for a good portion of your life. Yet, you had a feeling this related to before. Even Claude wasn't aware of your whereabouts.

"Sure thing, here?" You asked, folding your arms defensively.

"No... let's go somewhere more private." He said, walking off. You jumped, quickly following him.

~~~~

Following Claude up the spiralling stairs of the Goddess tower was quick, that you could confirm. Nearly stumbling over your steps as he transcended so damn fast, you couldn't even call out for him to slow the hell down.

As you finally made it to the top, avoiding the rubble which had gathered after the battle at the monastery, you had leant against the wall, quickly regaining your breath. Yet as soon as you blinked, Claude seemed to have moved from the centre of the room to a few inches away from your face.

"C-Claude! What the hell...?" You jumped, backing fully up against the cold, stone wall. Feeling the cool stones against your back, you shivered as your former leader stared at you.

"Answer teach's question for me, friend? Where were you while we were stopping the whole damn alliance from being chipped away by the Empire?" He asked, frustrated. He took a step towards you.

You gulped, shaking your head as your eyes darted around the tower, looking everywhere but him.

"That's not the answer I was looking for, (Y/N)."

Your breath hitched as he grabbed your chin to look you in the eyes. His voice lowered, a conflicted emotion on his face. A crooked grin tugged at his lips and yet his brows were furrowed, annoyed.

||Translation: فاک - Fuck||

"I-I was in Almyra!" You yelped, quickly realising what you said as you cursed under your breath, "فاک..." You hissed, embarrassed.

"First, you avoid our questions..." Claude listed, cruelly running his thumb across your lip. Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes finally set on his figure.

"Second, you leave us... breaking our promise," He continued, striking your heart where it hurts.

You bit your lip, eyeing him as he let his hand drop to your shoulder. He pushed you further against the wall. You shivered, yet not from the freezing stone this time.

"I-I... even you said you had no attachment to Fodlan! I thought you wouldn't..." You trailed off, searching for an excuse.

"Everyone thought you died! I thought you died! And yet..." His voice rose, yet less out of anger. He finally brought his face to your extremely red own.

"Where was I? Oh yeah, finally..." You stiffened, knowing what he was going to bring up.

"Leaving me hanging."

Before you all reunited, you had made a short trip into Fodlan to grasp the situation. Yet, your undercover mission soon became an open one as a fateful night in Derdriu occurred.

~~~~

It was a warm evening the night you had made it into the lively streets of the city. Even after the effects of war, the city still seemed to bustle. Unassumedly passing by citizens happily talking, you looked for any Knights of Seiros stationed nearby or even members of the Leicester military. Noticing a particular armoured woman, you tapped her shoulder.

She turned, giving you a pleasant smile. "Do you need anything, ma'am?"

You nodded, playing with the sides of your bodice. "I live a while from the military posts, so could you please tell me... um, how is the war going?" Embarrassed, she laughed softly before explaining.

However, you were unaware of a keen eye watching you. The familiar bobbing of unruly hair, gleaning of sun-kissed skin tied in with a confident stance clued Claude onto just who it was he saw. He waited patiently behind market stalls, keeping an eye on you as you bid the woman goodbye. And oh-so luckily for him, you headed his way.

You passed by him, oblivious to the archer's presence. A sudden hand on your shoulder caused you to jolt, your hand reaching to the hilt of your sword. Whipping around, your eyes soon met the green ones of a certain Alliance leader.

"C-Claude!?" You shrieked, hand still cautiously resting on your sword, unsure if he would take well to your sudden appearance.

"So you decided to show up, huh?" He remarked, and if you knew him any less you'd think that easygoing smile meant he was happy. But that smile never reached his eyes.

Yet, despite his obvious inner conflict, you expelled a breath as he pulled you into a hug. You soon wrapped your arms around him. It had been four years since you left after Edelgard and her forces attacked. You felt his grip loosen as he rose a hand to your chin, that oh-so teasing thumb brushing against your lip.

"May I?" He muttered, and in response, you leant into him, lips locking. What started innocently quickly grew messy and needy, your lips growing red.

As you pulled back, you felt the hard pressure as your fronts brushed together. You blushed before turning your head away.

"I'm sorry Claude, I have to go." You muttered solemnly, pulling yourself together.

"Wait, what? Showing up randomly after four years and then blue-balling me?" He teased yet yearningly reached out his hand.

"I promise, I will return and finish what I started!" You called out, running off into the night.

~~~~

Your face grew hot at the memory. Shuffling nervously, you looked into his eyes.

"Then, will you finish what we started, miss?" He asked, running a hand across your face.

Inhaling, you nodded and answered him. "Yes... please."

With your consent, he pushed himself against you, lips squishing as he brought you upon his own. He soon ran his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for permission.

You parted them quickly, his tongue invading your mouth as your tongue danced with his. He began to unclasp your armour as you shifted to help them come off easier.

Before you knew it, you had both shed to your undergarments, all knowledge of this being an open area quickly leaving your mind.

His hands reached behind your back to fiddle with your bra for a few moments, soon letting it fall to the cold, stone ground. His eyes fell to your breasts, your nipples perk from a mix of the cold air in the Goddess Tower and the heat of the situation.

Quickly, his hands began to fondle and grope your tits, your hand slapping on your mouth as to not alert any patrolling guards.

"These really are great. Your armour disguises you, a good thing that is since you'd probably take a few hits otherwise." He commented cheekily, observing your tightly shut eyes and fluttering breaths.

God, he'd tease you even now!?

One of the hands dropped from your breast, the other continuing to squeeze and roll it like wet clay. The forgotten breast soon regained heat as the scruffy head of the brunette quickly moved to suckle on your aching nipple, causing you to let out a quick yelp.

"How cute." He mumbled into your tit, the vibrations sending a delicious shiver up your spine. Whilst you were focused on the pleasure at your chest, your throbbing cunt soon found a welcoming hand cupping it through your underwear.

"Soaked! Were you wanting this all along? Hah! Pretty slutty for an Almyran warrior." He cooed, fingers running against your clothed slit.

"A-ah... fuck you!" You hissed, deciding on paying back the offer. Your free hand reached down to cup his hidden boner, hand rubbing slowly.

"Ffffuck... fine, you want to do it right here, against this wall sweetheart?" He asked, grinning.

You nodded brashly, slipping out of your drenched underwear. He too shed his remaining clothes and your lips locked in a short kiss before he pulled away.

Grabbing onto your thighs, he lifted you as you hooked your legs around him. Pushing you against the wall, he angled his dick at your pussy. Rubbing slowly, teasingly. The two of you groaned, as finally, he stuck his dick in your needy cunt.

You gasped, feeling it stretch you out, slowly, inch by inch. Bottoming out, the two of you stilled for a moment, catching your breaths. Once you adjusted, signalling him with a nod, he pulled out to the tip, before slamming back in. You moaned unabashedly, eyes fluttering open to see Claude's face scrunch up.

He looked up to you coyly, smirking. "Do you want all of the monastery to find us? Would you like them to see you like this?" Your breath hitched.

"Sweating, being fucked against a wall by your former leader? After five long years, you decide to help." He hissed, continuing to thrust as you gasped with each thrust.

The fulfilling feeling of Claude's dick rubbing against your inner walls gradually inched you to your orgasm, the added brushing of fronts stimulating your clit.

"I could get used to this, you'll really help the war efforts this way. Those poor, exhausted knights who you could've helped. A nice cocksleeve like you, you'll do more by getting fucked than you have the past years." He grunted, venting his frustrations.

Yet, despite all the guilt you should've felt, it only made the aching buzz of your clit all the more stronger.

Your cunt spasmed with each thrust, the routine rubbing and brushing working you towards your end as you felt Claude's dick shudder every time he bottomed out.

"Maybe you could motivate Ignatz? He'd be shy though, but a girl so open like you would be perfect for that." He mumbled, watching your face darken.

"Or Raphael? He could use you as training. You'd be spent by the time he was even finishing, yet a slut like you would be okay with that, right?"

His dick continued to twitch in your pussy, your walls clamping around his cock like a vice. Fluttering as you were so close to your end.

"Shit... even Lorenz... he could use you as practice for his- ngh, noble duties!" He choked out a laugh, breath stuttering.

"But I think I like you best as my little runaway slut, yeah? You fit so well on my cock!" He emphasised the last word with a sharp thrust, your walls clamping shut on his cock, your head hitting the wall as you moaned in ecstasy.

He quickly pulled out, dick spurting ropes of cum on your chest and stomach. As you both caught your breath, you caught Claude smiling at you.

"It's good to have you back, my friend."

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #claude von riegan #claude von riegan x reader #claude x reader #fire emblem smut #smut #fe3h #fe3h x reader #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem x reader smut #claude von riegan x reader smut #claude x reader smut #claude von riegan could totally be into angry sex

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realcube · 3 years ago

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ONCE YOU’RE GONE

rq ♥ hello!! can i please request miya twins, sakusa, suna, akaashi x fem!reader an angst one. like they got into a heated argument each other. reader just had enough, maybe take a stroll and got into a deadly accident that cost her life/ memory loss or something. and the hq char regrets it

tw ♥ angst, hurt/comfort, breakups, disappearances, very vague implications of kidnapping, memory loss & injury

a/n ♥ sorry i couldn’t think of anything for suna </3

ATSUMU MIYA

♡ he’s never really been an overly religious guy

♡ yet everyday, he finds himself praying that you’ll come back

♡ and before now, he considered himself a rather patient person, but every second you were gone was filled with anguish

♡ mostly because he knew it was all his fault

♡ nobody blamed it on him though, which only made him feel more guilty

♡ it was late, so he decided to walk you home from his house. hardly with your safety in mind though, just because he wanted to spend more time with you

♡ that was his first mistake

♡ his second was getting so defensive over his volleyball team

♡ he was talking about their recent loss to karasuno high, and how they were all devastated since they had been training for ages

♡ yet instead of comforting him, you simply replied, “maybe you should do things besides volleyball, if you’re getting so worked up about it.”

♡ but all he heard was you being condescending (though that genuinely wasn’t your intention) and telling him to give up something he is passionate about because of one little defeat

♡ you tried to explain that you honestly meant no harm by your statement but atsumu argued that the damage had already been done, hence your apology meant nothing to him

♡ realising that atsumu was just being pissy and taking his frustration at the game out on you, you distanced yourself; walking a few paces in front of him and plugging in your earbuds to tune him out

♡ after marching behind you for a few more yards, atsumu eventually decided that he was finished

♡ in one swift motion, he turned on his heels and stomped back his house, leaving you to walk the rest of the distance yourself; that was his third mistake

♡ however, after walking for about half a mile, he got a newsfeed notification on his phone titled, ‘four people reported missing in hyōgo prefecture, in the last week.’

♡ it only took one headline for all atsumu’s previous emotions to be swept away and replaced with one that left him motionless; guilt

♡ he continued walking back to his home, reasoning that you clearing didn’t want him near you — anyone could tell by the way you walked in front of him and ignored him— so he must’ve made the right choice to leave you, since it’s what you wanted, after all

♡ and it’s not like y’all broke up or anything, he still loves you and hopes you are safe and to prove that, he apologised and texted you first

♡ ‘hey, i’m so sorry i was i bit of a jerk earlier.’

♡ followed by ‘text me once you’re home.’

♡ no response, simply read at 21:45

♡ that was a week ago, yet he still wholehearted believed that you were going to come back

♡ though, deep down he knew he was just feeding himself the same line over and over again, just so that he wouldn’t feel guilty, and so that the sight of a volleyball stopped making him feel so sick and distressed

OSAMU MIYA

♡ he’s never felt such a sea of emotions at once before

♡ on one hand, he was just happy to see you alive and well; isn’t that all a lover should want?

♡ however, he didn’t have the honour of calling himself your lover anymore

♡ you didn’t remember anything from before the crash, which initially brought him a small tinge of relief, since you wouldn’t blame him for what happened

♡ however, you didn’t remember him at all

♡ so when he knelt by your bed and started apologising profusely, all you did which raise a brow and turn to the nurse, quietly — yet not discreetly — asking who the guy by your bed was

♡ he felt his hear tear apart at such a simple inquiry

♡ however, instead of explaining himself, he got up and left, “nobody.”

♡ wanting to get it all off of his chest, he told atsumu about what happened, as if he didn’t know that his brother had the biggest crush on you during your whole relationship with osamu

♡ and of course, upon hearing the news, atsumu ‘snuck out’ later to go visit you in hospital and presumably try to win your heart

♡ though, there was nothing ‘sneaky’ about the way he loudly fumbled around with the car keys, or the way he tended to slam the door behind him — atsumu knew exactly what his brother was trying to do and although it pained him to even think of losing you, he let his brother pursue you anyway

♡ he tried to protect you once and it resulted in you losing your memory, so god knows what would happen if he tried again

♡ plus, you were no longer his to protect, or at least that is what he tried to convince himself

♡ after months of daily visits from atsumu —and none from osamu — you were somewhat starting to gain your memory back

♡ atsumu just seemed so.. familiar, and that was the single best feeling when you are so isolated

♡ though, there was something off about him that you couldn’t exactly put your finger on, but he reassured you that it was because ‘seeing you hurt changed him as a man’ so of course he’s different from the way you ‘remember’ him

♡ years passed, and you continued dating atsumu in blissful ignorance of the events that happened before the accident

♡ you feel deeper in love with the atsumu you thought you knew and were forced away from osamu (who chose to remain single, he claimed it was to focus on his studies but he truly couldn’t find a second soulmate)

♡ it was only at your own wedding day were you finally able to see osamu once more, though you didn’t really interact with him much..

♡ until he objected during your vows, then, it was pretty hard to ignore him, especially since he appeared sober yet was claiming that you are his one true love, and he regrets ever leaving you

♡ needless to say, the rest of the wedding definitely did not go as planned

KIYOOMI SAKUSA

♡ he loved you; and he wished he had showed it more, now that it’s too late

♡ “sakusa,” you cooed, resting your head on his shoulder and offering him a plate of apple slices you cut yourself, while browsing the shows on TV, “what shall we watch tonight?” you inquired, but mostly to yourself since dating sakusa nowadays was similar to dating a literal rock

♡ no response, as per usual

♡ well, on the bright-side, that just meant you’d get to watch whatever you wanted, unless sakusa spoke up, which he most likely would not

♡ scanning through all your options, you decided to select some teen romance, coming-of-age movie that you knew sakusa would most definitely not enjoy, hence forcing him to say thing

♡ however, instead of him reacting in accordance to your plan, he simply got up and left without another word

♡ something about the sight of him with his back turned to you, headed out of your house and back home with even a goodbye cleared your fogged mind and left one fact undoubtedly clear; you didn’t want to be with him anymore

♡ and although you didn’t want to make assumptions, you surmised that he felt the same way; it was almost a certainty considering how distant he acted

♡ so of course you cut it off that same night; yet when you proposed the idea of breaking up, sakusa became surprisingly defensive

♡ it was as if all of a sudden he realised how shitty he had been acting this whole time, and how his actions had effected you

♡ you both yelled over the phone for hours, though it was hardly an ‘argument’, more like sakusa apologising profusely and making — what you believed to be — false promises, while you explained that you had just had enough

♡ it ended with him almost screaming ‘i love you’, but you hung up on him too soon

♡ he would never admit it, but he cried himself to sleep that night

♡ there was a part of him saying that he was just being overdramatic and you were nothing more than another lover that will enter and exit his life with the wind, but four years later, he still found himself getting butterflies upon catching a glimpse of you in the stands at one of games

♡ despite the fact you were cheering for opposite team

KEIJI AKAASHI

♡ you two were the perfect couple

♡ study dates, sliding notes to each other during class, midnight strolls, endless support, dancing in the rain; it was like you were both living in your very own slice-of-life romance movie

♡ however, as they say, all good things must come to an end

♡ but for akaashi, that ending came too quickly

♡ “you can do it, i know you can!” that must’ve been the tenth time you’ve said that today, it was like your own inspirational mantra, yet akaashi didn’t seem to be endeared by it

♡ “no, (y/n).” he repeated with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he began to guide you to the door, “it’s a silly dream. i probably shouldn’t have even mentioned it.”

♡ “it’s not silly!” you argued, throwing on your jacket as he made it increasingly clear that he didn’t want to continue this conversation, “it’s your dream! you can’t just keep complaining about school if you aren’t even going to try to pursue your passion.”

♡ akaashi silently shook his head, “go.” it was harsh, but he could only deal with speaking about his work life for so long

♡ “you go.” you snapped, though knowing it wasn’t exactly the comeback of the century, but it summarised your feelings well enough, “i’ve honestly had enough of you. i hope--”

♡ you cut yourself off at that; storming off before saying something you might regret

♡ though furious, you really didn’t want things to end with him, you just hoped that maybe one day you’ll be able to have a civil conversation with him about what he wants to do in life

♡ because he hides it well, but the more you got to know him, the more you noticed that he truly wasn’t happy in his studies, and you just wished he would do something about it or at the very least, let you help

♡ and he knew this too; he knew it all too well yet still couldn’t bring himself to better his life, even once you were gone

♡ you were critically injured after the accident, and during your time in the hospital, you let akaashi see you once

♡ one visit was his chance to redeem himself, to apologise and help you both align your futures together

♡ but all he could do was sit with you in radio silence

♡ thirty minutes passed and his mind was running on overdrive, yet he couldn’t think of anything to utter after ‘hello.’

♡ so he left

♡ no apology, no redemption, to attempt, nothing.

♡ all he could say was that he left with a heavy heart, a heart filled with hope that one day he could return to you despite all the wrong he has done; though that seemed more unrealistic than his dream of playing profession volleyball

♡ he had truly lost his soulmate

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starlordamn · 4 years ago

Text

‘Us’ - Michael Gray Oneshot

Summary: you and michael shared a kiss a few weeks ago at the garrison - a sudden change from his usual behaviour of ignoring you. he no doubt ignores you again, making your lovesick self devastated but not surprised, until he shows up at your door at three in the morning.

Warning: angst technically, lil bit of fluff if you squint, that’s it really, i only read over it once so possible grammar mistakes sorry!

A/N: i enjoyed writing this, it took me a while for some reason as i wrote it over the period of two days, but nonetheless it was fun, in ya’ll can tell he is my favourite person to write for at the moment. enjoy!

taglist: @lemur46

It was just a kiss.

That is what you were trying to convince yourself that it was.

About two weeks ago you and Michael had been at the Garrison late at night, it was near closing time, some three in the morning. You both weren’t drunk, but tipsy enough to let things be said that usually wouldn’t be. Or in this case it was something done that wouldn’t normally be done.

You both shared a kiss. The type that was anticipated for what felt like hours. The longing stares at each other’s lips, the hesitance as you both leaned in as if you both knew it was wrong. Yet it still happened. His lips had crashed with yours before you even had chance to register it, and you kissed him back like your life depended on it. And it was only the morning after that you remembered. He remembered too and you secretly hoped he would say something but he would never.

See, you had always been close with the Shelby family, Polly was like a mum, sister and aunt all mixed into one for you. Tommy, Arthur, John and Finn were the mischievous and protective brothers you never had. You sat in on family meetings, you were as good as blood family to them. But with Michael it was different, from the outset he was cold to you. You don’t know what it was about him that made you fall for him, but you did and you fell hard. Head over heels hard. The type that keeps you up at night. The type that makes your heart soar when they’re in the room. And the type that makes you feel dizzy.

That’s what was making you so confused. Michael had shown no interest in you whatsoever, so that night in the Garrison – you had thought – was a dream. It took a good few hours of mental debate to finally conclude that it was real. Unbenknownst to you however, Michael had fallen for you the second he laid eyes on you. Everything about you just made him love you. The way you walked with Tommy’s paperwork, sometimes stumbling and then laughing at yourself flushing slightly with embarrassment. The way you would make jokes with the others and looked truly happy to be in everyone’s presence all time. And the way your kindness stretched to him even though he’d been nothing but cold to you.

He didn’t want to put you in danger. You worked for one of the biggest gangs in the country, hell it was a dangerous life not just a dangerous world. But with his line of work he could never guarantee things to you that he wish he could, what if one day he didn’t come home to you, next seeing him in a church in a coffin. He could not leave you like that nor ever put you through anything like that. So that is why he wanted to forget about you. Forget about, forget about the kiss.

But he couldn’t. He loved you. And you weren’t alone in thinking about the kiss. No matter how hard he tried to forget he couldn’t. So that’s why he ended up on your doorstep at three in the morning on a Sunday.

“Michael!?” You blinked a few times to make sure this wasn’t a cruel dream. You stood in only your nightdress, looking a mess from just being woken up by Michael knocking on your door.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You opened the door a bit wider revealing slightly more than just your head. Your heart was beating quickly at the topic that could possibly arise, why else would he be here at 3 in the morning on a Sunday of all days, because you were sure as hell it wasn’t because Tommy had more urgent paperwork for you,

“Can I come in?” He asked rather expressionlessly. His hands were in his pockets casually and he looked at you blankly waiting for you to say yes. You nodded and stepped aside so he could enter your house. He crossed the room and stood awkwardly in front of the fireplace that you had just started up again. You shut the door before making your way over to him and standing opposite him, but not too close.

“Michael why are you here?” You spat it out. You had to. You didn’t mean to be blunt, it was just that he was giving you nothing, not even his body language expressed anything to you. Michael opened his mouth to say something before shutting it again. You stood waiting for an answer. But you knew you weren’t going to get one. It was Michael. Before this he had only spoke a total of twenty words to you.

“Michael say something,” you pleaded now, he was beginning to make you nervous in a negative way.

“I don’t know what to say.” He finally spoke. His voice was quite wavered and he sounded frustrated. How dare he get annoyed with you when he was the one who had been stood on your doorstep.

Silence fell over the room, it wasn’t awkward but it was filled with tension, of what kind you couldn’t tell. You didn’t know whether you wanted him to go or stay.

“Are you high Michael?”

“What?” His eyes became fixated on you and he sounded slightly hurt.

“Are you drunk?”

“No I’m fucking not.”

“Why are you here?” Silence. “If it’s to mock fun of me, I get it. You were drunk and I was stupid. But I don’t need it rubbed in my face, I don’t need the whole ‘I didn’t mean it’ lecture so, you’ve made it very clear already that’s the case so, if that’s all then please me alone.”

Tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes. You really were stupid falling for someone you couldn’t have. Someone who didn’t want you. Turning around to walk upstairs, you expected him to show himself out but he didn’t.

“Y/N wait,” he grabbed your arms gently and pulled you back. You spum around to face him, he was much closer to you now but you shook your head.

“You. Kissed. Me.” Tears rolled down your face. You were so humiliated.

“And I’m not here to apologise for that.” His voice was sincere as he raised a hand to your face, brushing his fingers against your cheeks to wipe the tears away that he had created in the first place.

“Wait, what?” You stood in absolute confusion and astonishment waiting for him to expand on what he just said.

“I meant it Y/N, I wasn’t drunk at all, I knew what I was doing and I meant it.” Both of his hands cupped your cheeks now, his eyes looking into yours and he spoke truthfully.

“But,” you pulled his hands away from your face making him frown slightly, “why the cold exterior, ignoring me after, and before even, I just…” You trailed off, fidgeting with your fingers. You didn’t fully believe him.

“I just wanted to protect you.”

“From what?” You scoffed, folding your arms.

“I didn’t want to ever risk any harm to you, a-and what if I never came home to you one day, I would never want to put you through that.” His voice was raise slightly, pointing at things as he spoke. You had never seen Michael express this much emotion at once and you didn’t know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Michael, I was involved in this gang before you came back, you don’t think I know how dangerous this life is? I learned to use a gun at ten years old and used one at twelve, I don’t think I need protecting.”

He rolled his eyes, “if you want to be like that the—”

“No I’m sorry,” you interrupted him, “I didn’t mean it to come out like that, I know you were doing what you thought was best.”

He nodded before the room fell silent for a few second.

“Look if you don’t feel the same I can go.” He rambled, as if he had just snapped back into reality and realised what he’d just said.

“Michael, I love you, you idiot.” You searched his face for a response and you got one. He smiled. The first time you had ever seen him smile and it was beautiful, happy Michael was far better than sad Michael.

“I love you too, I always have.”

“You have a funny way of showing it you know,” you laughed and so did he, running a hand through his hair.

“Are you going to kiss me or what?” You raised your eyebrows at him.

He put his hand on your shoulder and gently steered you into the wall behind you until you were pressed up against it. His hands travelled across your neck and collar bone to move your hair out the way, while you blushed at the touch of his skin against yours. He placed his hands either side if you on the wall, trapping you against it and him, before he leaned in slowly, placing his lips on yours. Unlike he previous movements, his lips were not gentle, they were pressed against yours needily as if it would be your last. You kissed him back, snaking your arms around the back of his neck and looping them together to pull him closer to you. His chest pressed against yours as his hands slid down the wall to your rest on your shoulders. You felt so floaty with his lips on yours, he was better than any drug you had every tried and even more intoxicating. The way his lips moved against yours made your knees feel weak, you just couldn’t get enough.

Removing your lips sadly from his after what felt like hours, your breath was shaky and rushed, so was his. You pulled him close, going on your tiptoes to rest your head in the crook of his neck and you whispered quietly, “we’ll make ‘us’ work, Michael.” He kissed the top of your head lovingly before wrapping his arms around your waist. He was going to make you two work out, even if it was the last thing he did.

#michael gray x reader #michael gray #michael gray x you #michael gray imagine #michael gray one shot #finn cole #finn cole x reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peakys #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky fookin blinders #peaky fucking blinders #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #shelby #shelby family

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shushiyuii · 3 years ago

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You’re my companion?

Apologises, I may, may not have speed ran this for a certain day. And I may, may not be sleep deprived hence there may be many grammar issues. I just hope its good to read wndjnjadna

Warnings: Soft vore, almost death and mistreatment. (It’s all fluff I promise, I know the warnings look bad-)

Words: 1.9K

Techno who’s lived for centuries, feared by so many as the blood god who’s ruined families, villages and won so many wars, be brothers with someone so contrasting to his personality get along? How did the gods decide this upon him? Perhaps to teach him a lesson about something like compassion or kindness?

In this world, people who are chosen are destined to be paired with what is called a “companion “. Companions are tiny beings of magic, the stronger the bond, the stronger the magic. They seem quite human despite the many defining traits that make them so different, the main trait being the companions’ small size, tiny even. They could be the size of your dog or the size of your hand. Many see companions as family, close friends, guardians even children in some cases, they’re bound to do great things. So how did somebody as horrifying and merciless gain a companion?

His companion was Tommy, a little companion by the size of the half of his hand, which by human standards, be about the size of their hand. Tommy was quite the energetic companion which complimented his magic, his magic being able to transfer his magical energy to his partner, which was Techno in this case. Tommy came in use in situations where Techno’s opponent somehow gained the upper hand, not many knew he had Tommy, so he came into use with those cases, Techno gaining strength and easily overpowering his enemies.

He and Tommy did not get along. When Tommy came to be, he tried befriending Techno so many times, it never worked. They always tried to avoid each other whenever possible, hence why they’re described as brothers by his mentor, Philza and his companion Wilbur. His relationship with Wilbur was so much different to his and Tommy’s, Philza was laid back and Wilbur was sociable so the two get along quite easily, they even get along with Tommy!

He didn’t understand how tough, how did they get along with somebody so irritating? He was so annoying, always yelling, loud, problematic. Overall a nuisance.

From Tommy’s point of view, he always felt mistreated and used by Techno, not in a bad sense but the only times Tommy would be able to act with Techno is in battle when Techno calls it. It’s frustrating, both he and Techno have a sense of adventure so why don’t they get along? It’s just Techno’s so stubborn.

Tommy huffed in frustration as he sat in a pile of flowers, the flowers always brought him comfort, he found it fun to pick off the petals one by one as time passes. It’s really the only thing he can do while away from Technoblade.

“TOMMY!”. Somebody yelled in the distance. He looked back as he had heard Wilbur, approaching in the distance. “There you are you fucking gremlin. Phil is worried about you”. Tommy huffed and smiled, “Why does that old man worry about me?”, “Because we care about you, dweeb”. Wilbur ruffled his hair as Tommy stood up. Wilbur was double the size of Tommy, his transparent skin and blue gradients in his sweater and hair, his eyes with no pupils, a full white. Very different from Tommy’s glowing gold hair, goat-like tail and horns.

They began to walk back to Philza’s cottage. “You worried about Techno again?”. Tommy groaned, “COURSE I AM MAN! He just- He never lets me get along or help him! It’s annoying, I’m a companion for a reason”. He sighed, “You know that rumour Wilbur if companions don’t get along with their partner, they’ll disappear… I don’t want to disappear!”. Wilbur looked at him worriedly, “Toms, hey-“ Wilbur held his shoulder and looked at him in the eyes with reassurance. “You aren’t going to disappear, not if I have anything to do with it. You and Techno will get along, just give it time”.

They made it back to the cottage and there sat at the table talking was Philza with Techno. They were talking about their latest adventures and battles. “So, you really managed to defeat him so easily? The dream? The legend?”, Tommy and Wilbur made it to the top of the table thanks to Wilbur’s floating abilities. “Heh, yeah and it was pretty easy too.”. Tommy snorted, “It was easy because I gave you my energy, Asshole.”. Techno looked over to see his companion had returned, his red eyes narrowed as he exhaled through his nose, making his annoyance apparent. “Oh! Tommy, Wilbur! I’m glad to see you’re back safely!”. Philza smiled.

As the words came out of Philza’s mouth, Technoblade stood up and made eye contact with Tommy, making it apparent to him that they were leaving and went to grab his bag. “Leaving so soon?”. “Yep, got a couple of things to pick up in town before I leave off to the next adventure”. He laid his bag on the table for Tommy to hop into.

Tommy said his farewells as he hopped into Techno’s bag, the bag he’d probably stay in for the next week. Once he was in, Techno lifted the bag and made his way to the door, before he said goodbye for the final time, Philza cut him off. “Techno, before you go. Please, try to bond with Tommy”. There was a sad tone in his voice, when he looked back both he and his companion had sorrowful faces, something was worrying them. He knew what but he couldn’t even bother, so to put it simply he left through the door.

It had been about a couple of hours since that talk, Tommy had remained completely silent, not saying anything. Usually, he was trying to get Techno’s attention by now, by climbing out of his bag to his shoulder and yelling into his ear. Even more, time went by in the forest and no noise from Tommy, by then it was night. By the time he had decided it was time to settle down for the night, he heard a noise in a nearby bush.

He huffed as he went over to investigate it, as he peered into the bush it was quickly interrupted by something hitting him right in the face, the next thing he knew was that he felt incredibly weak. He was surrounded by glass shards. A weakness potion.

His mind immediately went to Tommy, his eyes rushed over to his bag. Only for a figure to dash over him and make it to his bag before him. The figure picked it up and began to rummage through it, only to feel something quite squishy and soft. He brought out the squishy thing only for it to be Tommy.

But Tommy didn’t look the same as usual, his glow was dim, and he looked to be fading. “Well, well, well. Look what we got here.” He held Tommy as if he were presenting an object to show and tell. “The Blood God has a companion, and it’s fading. Not a surprise”. The cloaked figure brought down his hood to reveal his white, smiley mask.

“Dream”. Technoblade’s voice was low with venom. “Let him go”. A low growl could be heard rumbling from his throat to which Dream laughed. Tommy woke up at the sudden noise, “Techno?” He groaned as he was waking up, not sure of the situation, “What’s going on?”. He wiped at his eyes. To say Tommy felt exhausted was an understatement, he felt so weak. He looked down at his hands to see that they were transparent, and some parts of his hands had disappeared. He screamed at the realization.

A low laugh could be heard from Dream, “that’s right, little one”. Tommy looked up at the hand who held him, he recognised it to be Dream. “TECHNO!”. He yelled in panic. Techno was drawn out of his thoughts and looked to Tommy, his eyes filled with worry. Techno realised something. He was a complete asshole to Tommy, he had a companion for a reason, the gods had given him someone who understood him, someone other than Phil and Wilbur, someone who made him stronger and better, and he’d taken advantage of it. “TOMMY!” He yelled back.

He stood up with whatever his body would allow him to and ran over to dream in a dashing tackle, trying to pin him down. Tommy fell out of his hands onto the dirt floor. Techno knew he couldn’t hold Dream down for long with the effects of this weakness potion. In a daze, he picked up Tommy and ran as far as he could into the forest, “HEY!” could be heard as he ran in the distance.

He ran and ran for what felt like forever and had managed to gain distance from Dream for a moment’s while. He looked down at his hands to see Tommy not looking too good himself, he was still fading. “Toms?...”. He whispered and got groan of pain in response. “Listen, we both know I’m not good with the talking stuff…”. He muttered and shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Please, just be, okay?! Please?! I hate seeing you like this!”.

“TECHNOBLADE”. Could be heard in the distance of the forest, it wouldn’t be long before Dream caught up to them, “Tommy please!”. He shook his small body then remembered something.

“Hey Techno!”. It was Tommy trying to gain his attention again, annoying him as he sharpened his weapon. “What?” he muttered in a low voice. “You know how you’re a piglin right? With that whole- second stomach- storage thing? What if you stored me and I could buff you up? That way you wouldn’t have to worry about me in combat and I’d be completely safe?”.

His memory faded to black as he looked back down at his little companion, Tommy looked so weak, he had to keep him safe. So, he gently lifted Tommy towards his face, and carefully placing him in his mouth. He could feel Tommy’s stiff and tense body, relax at the warmth of his body. He had to keep Tommy safe, the thought of that alone made him swallow him down despite voices screams. He was gentle as he could be as he felt Tommy fall into his storage.

“TECHNO!”. Dream had finally caught up to them, He looked over to him with fury in his eyes. “Listen Dream! Back off!”. He growled as he stood up, a hand laying protectively over his stomach. “Where’d your little companion go, huh? Finally faded, did he?”. He which made Technoblade snarl. “You wish, that kid’s got balls. He isn’t going any time soon.” And a small voice confirmed it “You got that right”. It was Tommy’s voice.

The next thing he knew is that he felt the strength of their magic. He smirked and immediately ran at Dream. After a few quick punches and kicks, Dream was running away. And so, Techno made his way back to his camp. “Let’s keep you in there for the night, Alright? I’m sure we’re both exhausted” He mumbled as he laid back against a tree. “Agreed”.

Both fell asleep peacefully that night.

And the next day, when Tommy was back out. He was normal, maybe even better. And from that day onward. He and Tommy were a lot closer.

#mcyt g/t #mcytG/T #dsmp g/t #soft vore #tw vore #tiny!tommy #tiny!wilbur #giant!phil #giant!techno #Shushi’s writing

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magickastiel · 3 years ago

Text

Somewhere Off in the Dark (Dean/Cas) 7.3k

It’s easier to be with Cas in the dark.

Dean hasn’t got to see those eyes at full brightness, boring into his soul. Instead he can just talk and not worry about the embarrassment scalding his face or the discomfort twisting his spine.

It’s dangerous being with Cas in the dark.

Gift for @jackttwist for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! ✨

mild warning for a scene during early s13 so dean is very self-destructive and doesn't care about his own life. It's along the same times as the show but if you're triggered by that, skip from: 'Dean is sick' and pick up again at: "The Empty?" Dean whispers, feeling cold' for the cute stuff!

a03 or keep reading 💖

Dean will never get used to waking up and seeing eyes peering back at him.

He starts awake, half-reaching for the gun tucked under his pillow before he can pull himself back. He glares and throws the blanket off his lap, immediately regretting it when the cool night air hits his legs.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel says, voice dry and face impassive. He watches without shame as Dean clambers to his feet, eyes skimming over his legs, his rucked up t-shirt, the scowl on his face.

A chill shoots up Dean’s back and, not for the first time, he wonders how many pairs of eyes Castiel really has. He walks from the couch to Bobby’s kitchen for something to do with his overly observed body.

“I’ll shoot you one day.” He says over his shoulder. “That’ll show you.”

“What will that show me?”

Dean wants to be annoyed but instead he snorts with laughter. Castiel seems to have this affect on him.

“Nothin’. Forget it.” His eyes itch with fatigue and he rubs them with the back of his hand. “You want coffee?”

“I have no need for - ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Dean turns to lean his back against the counter and almost jumps again when he sees that Castiel has silently followed him to the kitchen. He can count the number of worn tiles between his bare feet and Castiel’s shoes. He has to swallow before he speaks. “Didn’t ask if you needed it. You want some?”

The angel’s eyes travel over him again and Dean feels like an ant under the hot glare of a magnifying glass on a sticky summer’s day.

“Yes.” He says eventually.

“Right.” Coffee.

He potters about, feeling eyes on him wherever he goes. He doesn’t let his hand shake.

By the time they’re sat back on the couch with two half-empty mugs, Dean’s body has loosened as he becomes accustom to the silent scrutiny. There’s no looming threat and no harsh judgement because Castiel is as he always is – curious. Every movement is apparently fascinating to him, every sentence Dean says is worth contemplation and every sip of coffee is a new experience to mull over. Again, Dean is surprised how little it annoys him.

“You remember the first time you woke me up here?” He says after a long pause. “You threatened to throw me back into Hell. Real nice of you.”

In the dark, Dean has to rely on Castiel’s voice to judge his expression. “Yes.” The word sounds solemn, like he’s disappointed that Dean remembers it. “I did say that.”

Dean takes the last glug of coffee to think. There’s an obvious question that’s been lingering between them for the last ten minutes.

“Why did you come here tonight?” He asks and doesn’t know what he wants the answer to be.

Even though he can’t see him properly, he’s sure Castiel is staring straight at him even as he ponders his answer. It’s another reminder of how alien he is. He doesn’t have that need to look away, to hide his face as his mind races to find the right way to say the right thing. Dean envies him that.

“I wanted to apologise.”

“Apologise for what?”

When he speaks again, his tone is unnervingly soft. “Your friends.”

Ellen. Jo.

Dean’s heart clenches and he feels the urge to move, unable to sit still in his grief. His knee knocks against Castiel’s solid thigh but the angel stays perfectly still.

“I should have been with them.” Castiel continues his voice low and smooth. If it wasn’t for the subject matter, Dean might think he was being read to sleep like a troubled child. “I should have protected them.”

“Not your fault.” He mumbles and means it. It never occurred to him to blame Castiel. He’s been too busy blaming himself to consider anyone else’s actions.

“I arrived with them and I should have stayed with them. I let them down. I – I let...”

Castiel is hesitating. This is new behaviour for him and it’s dangerously human.

“I...let you down.”

Dean feels like he’s been doused with cold water. He doesn’t blame Castiel for not wanting to say that. It’s so ridiculously untrue and so goddamn weird to say that he let Dean down specifically. It’s too much focus on him, on them.

“You didn’t let us down, man.”

“You are being kind.” Castiel says in neither admonishment nor gratefulness. He just states it like it’s a sure fact. “Thank you. But I shall endeavour to make it up to you.”

“Oh.” Dean says feeling dumb and strangely warm. “Right. But like I said, nothing to make up for.”

“You are not sleeping.”

He almost gets whiplash at the sudden change in conversation. “Uh well, no, not right now. You did wake me up.”

“Allow me to clarify: you do not sleep enough.” The still air is disturbed by the rustle of his trenchcoat and the sharp clack of the ceramic mug being placed on the table.

“Kind of a lot going on, dude.” Dean says, trying to protest as Castiel pulls his mug from his hands and places that on the table too. “Uhhh, what are you doing?”

“Lie back down.”

Dean does as he’s told but frowns too. He tells himself it’s a good compromise. “You gonna stare at me until I fall asleep or something?”

“I could but I believe that will be unnecessary.” He stands and looms over the couch. He looks intimidating from down here – tall as a skyscraper and dark as a void. Dean clutches at the blanket for something tangible to hold on to. “Your body still hasn’t recovered from the physical and emotional trauma of the last week. And when you sleep you have nightmares thus reliving the pain. You must rest completely to correct this and regain your full strength.”

Dean snorts. “Oh, yeah? So what you gonna do – zap me to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Wait – ”

Two fingertips brush his forehead and he sleeps.

Dean can’t stop looking.

Even as Benny regales them with some batshit story, even as he eats his handful of berries, even as he wanders the perimeter of their little camp.

Cas is here.

Like, actually here.

He hadn’t let himself lose hope but it had been slipping. Just around the corner, he’d think. One more fight and he’ll be there. On and on.

And then there he was, alive and washing his face like he’d just woken up after a bad night’s sleep at a motel.

Dean’s eyes flit over to him again. He isn’t used to it yet. They only found him a few hours ago. Man’s gotta bask in having his best friend back.

“Dean? You hear me?”

He sighs and turns back to Benny who, to his credit, doesn’t even look annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. Sleeping, shifts, food.”

He snorts. “Got the gist, at least.”

“I’ll take the first shift. Gotta...” He glances over his shoulder at Cas again. He isn’t quite sure what he’s got to do, but he knows it involves Cas.

“Like that, huh?” Benny says, a slight smirk on his face.

“What do you mean?” He mutters, grabbing a stick and poking the meagre fire for something else to focus on.

“Nothin’, nothin’.” He waves a hand, but the smirk hasn’t left his face. “Just startin’ to feel like a third wheel, is all.”

Dean’s face heats unpleasantly. He knows it’s not like that but he can’t quite bring himself to argue about it. Instead he stares into the fire as Benny wanders off to rest. He feels horribly cracked open. He’s gotten used to his hardened shell – Purgatory took all the resilience he had and coated him in it. But the first sight of Cas had split him apart and now his usual racing thoughts have come rushing back with the force of a ten tonne truck. He almost wishes he could go back to how he was yesterday, pure focus and drive.

Now he feels small next to the fire, between a vampire and an angel.

He’s just one slightly shitty human lost in Purgatory.

“Dean?”

Cas joins him suddenly, with that eerie angelic stealth. Dean only just manages to stop himself from jumping like a kid. Cas sits on his left, watching him intently.

Everything is kind of colourless in Purgatory. It drove Dean insane for the first few days; everything seemed slightly off and unreal. Then he got used to it – the lacklustre trees, the blank water, even the fire looked kind of grey.

Cas’ eyes are still very blue.

It’s the first real colour he’s seen in months.

“Dean?” He says again, sounding slightly alarmed. “Are you alright?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Just...weird to see you, I guess.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks. “I...I suppose it is strange to see you too. I have seen you from a distance a few times. If several leviathans caught me at once, it would take me a while to kill all of them. Each time, I was very aware of how you were likely closing in on my location. Then I would catch a glimpse of you through the trees and that was when I knew I needed to get ahead again.”

“You what?!” Dean hisses, only keeping his voice down for Benny’s sake. “You mean you’ve been in spitting distance before and you didn’t say anything?! You could have...” He thinks about the sleepless nights, the desperation to find him alive. “I was afraid you were dead.”

“I am sorry, Dean.” Cas squints and tilts his head a little. Dean feels his anger dissipate. “I wanted nothing more than to join you. Together, I am sure we can conquer almost anything.” Right. That’s a total normal thing to say to someone. “But I was the one who released the leviathans. It was my responsibility to deal with them. If they got to you I would never be able to forgive myself.” His gaze drops to the fire. “I will never be able to forgive myself.”

“Don’t.” Frustration pushes at Dean’s skull, making his eyes water. “Yeah, ok. You did something pretty dumb. But you did it because you were trying to save the world. I should have...if I hadn’t been so damn caught up with other stuff. If I had just been there more - ”

“Dean, you cannot blame yourself.” Cas sounds genuinely horrified at the thought. “It was my decision and the consequences are mine to bear. All I can hope is that you can find a way to forgive me. And Sam - ”

“Sam’s good now.” Dean says quickly, half to reassure himself. “You screwed him over, not gonna lie. But at least you fixed it.”

Neither of them speaks for a while. Cas seems intent on watching the fire while Dean’s shell shatters a little more. Had he really had forgiven Cas just like that? He thought of what John Winchester would say about that. To say Cas had ‘screwed Sam over’ was a bit of an understatement. He had totally destroyed his mind. And here Dean was, casually forgiving him like it was no big thing.

It isn’t just words either. Dean really doesn’t feel any animosity towards the angel at all. Look out for Sammy. That had been drummed into him since he was four years old, when he carried his baby brother from their burning home. He still lives by it too. So it’s unnerving to forgive someone who hurt Sam. He’d been angry at first, sure. Upset, if he was being honest. He’d been hit with the double whammy of worrying about Sam and being betrayed by the only real friend he’d ever had. The only one that sticks around.

Well, that isn’t quite true. Cas always leaves but he always comes back too.

Now Dean just feels happy. And tired. He’s pretty tired too.

“You should sleep.” Cas says, softly. “I can watch over you.”

His knee jerk reaction is to tell the angel that’s weird. In any other situation it is weird. But here, he really does need someone looking out for him.

“’Angels are watching over you.’” He says, thinking of soft blonde hair and a warm smile. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “That’s what my mom used to tell me every night when she put me to bed. Guess that’s true tonight, huh?”

“I suspect she did not imagine that to come true in Purgatory while you are travelling with an angel and vampire, but the sentiment is lovely nonetheless.”

Dean can’t stop himself from grinning as he settles down, wedging his jacket under his head like Benny did.

“Do we have to travel with the vampire?” Cas grumbles beside him, sounding wonderfully like himself.

Dean raises his eyebrows against his makeshift pillow. “What, you don’t like Benny?”

“I don’t like the way he acts.” His eyes narrow, glaring at the sleeping figure the other side of the fire. “He looks at you like he wants to...consume you.”

Dean laughs and, for a moment, the clearing rings with it. “Dude trust me: Benny ain’t gonna eat me. He’s got plenty of food around.”

But Cas still looks unsure. “That’s not...” He sighs. “Yes, I suppose you are right.” He gives Dean one of those rare, small smiles as he looks down at him. “Sleep.”

Dean does as he’s told for once, letting his aching limbs stretch out next to the warmth of the fire and under his best friend’s watchful gaze.

But after a few moments, he can’t resist another look, even as his body succumbs.

“You can sleep, Dean.” Cas says, almost chastising. “I’ll watch over you.”

“Ain’t that. Just...” His tongue feels too big for his mouth and his heart feels too heavy for his chest. “Just checkin’ you’re still there, is all.”

As he falls asleep, he hears his voice one more time.

“I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

When Dean asks Cas where he can drop him, the ex-angel avoids his eyes and says something about being ‘between places’.

Yeah, Dean’s the worst friend in the world.

He drives them to a motel because that’s the least he can do.

He mentally berates himself on the drive there while Cas is quiet in the passenger seat. This really is the least he can do. He should be driving Cas home to the Bunker, buying him dinner on the way back. He should be apologising for throwing him out. But if he starts apologising that means he’s got to start explainingand that’s something he really can’t do. Not yet.

So he drives his awesome best friend to a shitty motel and books them a shitty twin room and orders a shitty pizza.

Once they’ve eaten in relative silence, Cas perches on the edge of one of the beds staring wide-eyed and blank faced at the television. Unfortunately, it’s not Dr. Sexy. Just some grim drama about murders and family betrayals. Like they don’t have enough of that to deal with already.

He looks small and Dean has the sudden urge to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude,” He says, busying his restless hands with clearing up the greasy napkins and tossing them into the bin. “Don’t sit that close to the TV. You’ll get square eyes.”

For what seems like the first time in an hour, Cas blinks. “Is that possible?”

Dean chuckles and settles back on his bed, kicking off his boots with a groan. “Nah, just somethin’ parents tell their kids. Dad used to say it to me all the time.” His smile slips as John Winchester’s dark eyes narrow in his mind. “Used to watch so much Scooby Doo it drove him mad. ‘Turn that TV off and do something useful! Ain’t got no use for a son with square eyes!’” He fidgets on the bed, fighting the urge to pull a blanket over himself.

“Oh.” Cas half turns away from the TV. “That seems unnecessarily harsh.”

Dean shrugs. “Just watched it when he was gone.” Had plenty of time.

“I assume you had plenty of time to watch it then.”

Huh.

Dean’s stunned into silence long enough for Cas to look over. Something on his face makes Cas look guilty.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t my place to comment on your father.”

“No.” Dean says but isn’t sure if he means it.

Cas stands, flicking off the TV and sitting against the pillows of his own bed. The quiet makes Dean realise that he’s alone with Cas in a motel room. He isn’t sure why it sets his teeth on edge – it shouldn’t be any different from sharing with Sam. So why does he feel a bit too hot under his shirt?

“Family is a complicated thing.” Cas continues, oblivious to Dean’s discomfort.

“Y-yeah.” The word sticks in his throat. “You miss ‘em? The other angels?”

In the soft lamplight, Cas’ profile looks striking as he thinks. “Yes and no. I miss the simplicity of being with them.”

“Simplicity? Can’t imagine Heaven ever being simple.”

“Oh, it’s not, not really. But I knew my place and I knew what I required to do. And I was known. Understood.”

“You think I don’t get you?” Dean asks before he can stop himself.

Cas leans back further, turning slightly to rest his head on the pillow. His eyes look almost velvet in the soft light. Dean finds himself turning a little too, cheek brushing the cotton pillowcase.

“I think you understand me more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Oh.” Dean feels struck dumb and something inside his chest clunks. “That...that’s what friends are for, I guess.”

“Yes.” Cas smiles, gummy and a little crooked where he’s resting his head. “It is.”

Dean rolls onto his back, heart hammering as he stares at the ceiling. Cas’ eyes are still on him – he knows the feel of that gaze like a dangerous coastline knows the relentless glare of a lighthouse.

The silence drags and his fingers itch to switch the TV back on.

“Coulda got you your own room.” He mutters, almost to himself. Least I could do. “Give you some privacy.”

“No.” Cas says firmly. “This is...this is good. Thank you.” He sounds so earnestly grateful Dean almost cringes in shame. “I spend quite a lot of time alone. It’s good to have company.”

“Right, yeah. Of course.”

“But if you’d rather - ”

“Nah, it’s all good.” He says and is surprised that he means it. He’s counted the stains on the ceiling three times and his heart is slowing to its normal pace again.

“Dean?” Cas sounds a little slower now. “Tell me something?”

“Uh, sure. What?”

“Anything.”

“Like a story?” Dean frowns and looks over to see Cas’ eyes are already half-closed.

“Hmm.”

“Uhhh...” He flounders. He hasn’t done this since he was a kid, making up stories for Sammy to fall asleep to in the back of the Impala. “Ok. Once, this guy woke up. Let’s call him...Dan. He woke up and realised he was underground, being suffocated. So after he panicked a bit, he dug his way out and almost goddamn blinded himself ‘cos it was a sunny day, right? He walks to this old gas station and keeps thinking ‘how am I alive?’ ‘cos he’s pretty sure he was dead.”

He knows he isn’t telling it well but it doesn’t seem to matter because Cas hums again, sounding pleased this time. Dean feels his own body melting like hot wax into the bed as he watches Cas’ eyes close.

“Then he looks in the mirror and sees he’s got this mark on his shoulder. A handprint. So he’s like, ‘who the hell left that there?’”

Cas chuckles, mouth thick with sleep. Dean pulls a blanket over himself and wraps an arm around one of the pillows.

“Turns out, his best friend left it there. But here’s the thing: he ain’t met him yet.”

Dean smiles as Cas’ breathing gets even and heavy. He watches for a moment and squeezes the pillow tight against his chest before turning out the light.

He dreams of Hell but when he wakes, all he can remember are dark wings beating hard against fire.

Dean is sick.

He throws up until his body is shaking, until his throat is raw and his eyes are bloodshot.

He slumps down next to the toilet and takes in breaths he doesn’t really want. The cool title presses against his burning back and he closes eyes. Which is a horrific mistake.

A beam of light streaming from his mouth, from his eyes, from the hole in his chest -

His body jerks and his foot knocks the empty whiskey bottle with a jarring clatter. Yeah, that’s rule one, buddy. Don’t close your fucking eyes.

He stands on shaking legs, picks up the empty bottle and goes back to his room where he’s stashed another. Thankfully, he doesn’t pass Sam on the way. He can’t deal with the pity, he can’t deal with the logic and he can’t deal with his stupid, childish hope. Mom’s gone. Ain’t no sense in pretending otherwise. Gone just like –

Nope.

He opens his door and chucks the empty bottle down again, letting it roll off to some dark corner of his room. He scoops up the next one and cracks open the top, taking a deep swig. It hits him hard; neat alcohol on his turbulent stomach makes him gag but he perseveres. He’s exhausted but he can’t close his eyes.

So he’s aiming for blackout.

It can’t be too far away – he can’t remember when he last ate. He’s aching all over, boiling hot and he’s...

Sobbing.

“You...you son of a bitch...” He sways a little when he looks up at the dingy ceiling but he’s trying to talk beyond that. “Whydya hav’ ta...fuck!” He rushes over to the sink and throws up the whiskey he just swallowed. It burns even more on the way up.

Once he’s stopped retching, he tries to take another swig but his body won’t let him do it. He collapses onto the floor again, legs too weak to stand. The bottle clangs in the sink, probably spilling all of its contents down the drain. He makes a weak sound of protest but doesn’t move.

His eyes feel tight and dry against the salty wetness on his face. He wonders how far above him Heaven is. If he’s even there. Something tells him he isn’t. If he is, surely he would have found a way to get back.

Dean whispers his name, a private prayer of desperation. There’s still some dumb part of him that thinks he might just appear again, slightly dishevelled and annoyed at Dean for not looking after himself.

But he doesn’t.

The silence stretches and Dean contemplates hitting his head on the floor. If he does it hard enough, there’s a good chance it’ll knock him out for a while, maybe a few days if he’s lucky.

He tries to lift his head but it’s too heavy. A wave of panic rushes over him as he starts to feel paralyzed – trapped in his own body and smothered with grief.

“Cas?” He chokes, a fresh wave of tears rushing down his face. “You...you’re meant to come back. You always come back. You gotta...you gotta come back, man. Please. Please, I can’t - ”

I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to. Don’t make me.

With all his might, he rolls onto his side before he’s suffocated completely. His head spins as he turns, his stomach churns and his eyes roll back. When he finally passes out, he doesn’t see anything at all.

“The Empty?” Dean whispers, feeling cold.

“Yes.” Cas whispers back. He’s only whispering because Dean is. Dean feels completely normal about that and not giddy at all.

“What was it like?” He doesn’t want to know but has to ask all the same.

“Empty.” Cas says, deadpan.

“Oh ok, smartass – thanks for clearing that up!” Dean huffs good-naturedly and has to grip the railing until his knuckles turn white. He’s got so much happiness in him his body doesn’t know what to do with it. He feels energy thrumming through him and he has the sudden urge to start sprinting and laughing.

They’ve stopped at a motel on the drive back from Colorado to the Bunker. Sam is already asleep, hair all splayed out on his pillow like Sleeping Beauty. But Dean...well, Dean was dead for a couple of minutes today so he figures he’ll enjoy being alive for a bit longer. He leans on the rail overlooking the parking lot and lets the cool air fill his lungs.

He’s got company.

“How is Jack?” Cas asks, obviously expecting a better answer than the quick reassurance they’d given him earlier.

“He’s doing ok. I was...” Dean trails off, his good mood momentarily dipping into guilt. “I was kind of a dick to him at first - ”

“What a surprise.” Cas sighs, world-weary and affectionately irritated. Dean wants to make him sound like that every day.

“- but we’ve gotten better.” He knocks Cas’ shoulder with his. “I’ve gotten better.”

“Good.” Cas smiles at him and he has to grip the railing again.

Dean watches him stare up at the moon, the pearly light making him look as otherworldly as he is. Dean is reminded there are wings somewhere behind Cas. Broken, yes, but still there. It’s weirdly exciting that Cas isn’t human. A strange thrill shoots through him when he really thinks about it. He feels like one of those people who inadvertently tame some dangerous beast and have their photos taken with the thing sat on their couch with them. It’s that precious feeling that you’ve been chosen, that something that would normally kill you with a snap of jaws or a click of its fingers saw you and thought you were special. So it decided that it wanted you to live. That it wanted to spend time with you. That he wanted –

“Dean? You’re staring.” Cas turns back to him with a raised eyebrow and a slightly smug expression. “You usually tell me off for that.”

“Right.” Dean doesn’t stop looking. “It’s just...you’re back.You came back again.”

Cas’s expressions softens and he edges a little closer. Suddenly – wildly – Dean thinks if Cas kissed him now he’d be fine with it.

He doesn’t.

“It was suffocating.” He says instead. “The black emptiness was...all encompassing. Like no matter what I did or where I went, I would never escape the feeling of total despair. Of being painfully alone. It was like - ”

“Choking.” Dean says and swallows hard against his healing throat.

“Yes.” Cas’ fingers twitch on the railing and Dean thinks that if he moved his left pinkie, he could feel his skin. Cas’ hand drops before he can really contemplate doing it. “But I did escape.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s full of energy again, happiness buzzing around his body like a swarm of bumblebees. “You got out, man.”

“I was afraid that feeling would follow me. That I would still feel that fear no matter how far I ran.”

“And?”

“I don’t.” Cas turns to the moon again, bathed in pure light, eyes shining as bright as his grace. “I don’t feel scared at all.”

Dean blinks back the sting in his eyes and smiles. “Me neither.”

Dean pushes open the door with a sweaty palm.

Cas stands next to him, staring into the room with his lips slightly parted. Dean’s gaze lingers on them for moment before he drags his eyes away.

Just because Cas...said what he said, doesn’t mean he wants that. Maybe he didn’t really mean it. Or maybe he did mean it but like...friends. Best friends love each other. Of course they do. Sure, it did seemlike a momentous romantic confession made by a guy madly in love with his best friend before he sacrificed himself to save said best friend but maybe...maybe it wasn’t really like that.

“You did this for me?” Cas sounds almost tearful and Dean can’t look at him like that. It reminds too much of –

“Yeah.” Dean clears his throat. “Well, Sam helped too. Turns out he’s kinda nerdy about plants too. But I bought ‘em all and watered ‘em and...Jack got you that stuffed bee, by the way.”

Cas steps inside the room and Dean can finally look up from his feet. His eyes go straight to Cas’ broad back, casually dressed in one of Sam’s sweaters. The sleeves are too long but Cas says he likes it. He’s wearing a pair of joggers that Dean kept aside for him and a pair of socks with a hole in the toe.

“I love it.”

Dean’s heart literally skips a beat. Great, he loves it. Loves it in the way he loves –

“Wanted you to have something to come back to, you know? I know this was always kinda your room but there was nothing in here and I thought...after what you said before about the Empty...thought you’d want something good to come back to. Bright and full of life...or whatever, I dunno. Just thought you might like it.”

“It’s incredible.”

Dean thinks that’s over stating it. It’s not that good. Not nearly enough to repay his debts. Not anywhere near what Cas deserves. He deserves a real home, a huge garden, a fucking mansion with butlers and people who bow to him and call him ‘sir’. Instead Dean has given him his old room back. Sure, it’s got a few shelves up, a new rug, bedding that Jack picked out called ‘jungle dreams’, a load of plants and a tall lamp that gives everything a nice glow but it’s still the same room.

Dean has never felt more pathetic.

Castiel is an angel. Ok, barely an angel now (and whose fault it that?) but still a celestial being. He might get tired sometimes, he might get hungry and he might be able to get drunk but he’s still an angel.

He’s still better.

Better than this stupid room, better than this miserable Bunker. Better than Dean.

“Is this your blanket?” Cas asks suddenly, plucking the Scooby-Doo fleece blanket from the bed.

Oh, that. “Uh, yeah. Thought you might get cold now. Don’t want you to get numb toes or nothin’.”

“That’s...” Dean isn’t prepared for the open, raw joy on Cas’ face when he looks up. It almost sends him reeling backwards out of the door. “That’s very kind of you. You didn’t have to do all of this. It’s...”

Stupid. Stupid plants, stupid lamp, stupid goddamn blanket.

“It’s wonderful.”

“It’s stupid.” Dean blurts, feeling awkward and childish. “Shoulda done something more. Shoulda got you - ”

“You got me.” Cas says firmly. “You got me out, Dean. You and Sam and Jack...I will never be able to thank you enough. And then to come back to this room that you worked so hard on, that you filled with things you knew I would like...there is nothing better than that in the whole world. The whole of creation. To be known and to be wanted is the best thing there is.”

Fuck.

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that. What can he say to that? What can he say that would ever compare to what Cas said? What he said before –

“Right. Ok. Great. That’s...good. I’ll just...” He gestures over his shoulder to the door. Being in here with Cas is too intense, like staring at the sun or holding your hand over an open flame. “You probably want to rest.”

Cas hesitates before saying, “Yes. I suppose I should. Thank you again for this. I really love it.”

“Yeah, man.” Dean almost winces. “No worries. I’ll just...leave you to it.”

He steps back into the open doorway, unwilling to take his eyes away from Cas because he’s here, in the room Dean has imagined him in for weeks. It’s kind of annoying that Cas doesn’t have the same trouble. He turns his back, wandering towards the plants on the shelves and gently touching the leaves.

Dean lingers, like a moth perched on a lightshade.

“Are you - ” Just leave. “Are you gonna be ok by yourself? I mean, you said before that it was lonely being in the Empty. Thought maybe you’d want company?”

Cas seems surprised when he faces Dean again. “Oh. Well, yes, of course. I would enjoy you staying for a while. But please don’t feel like you have to.”

The idea of Cas thinking he’s keeping Dean against his will is laughable.

“So, er - ” He sits on the bed, fingers clutching at his blanket. “What do you wanna do? I could get my laptop and we could watch a movie? Or we could watch one of those nature documentaries that kinda send me to sleep? You know the ones with the British guy with smooth voice - ”

“Actually, I should rest. I am quite tired.”

“Oh.” Dean tries to not look crushingly disappointed. “Right, yeah.”

“You could rest with me.” Cas says, just like that. Like it’s not a big deal at all. Like guy friends just clamber into bed with each other all the time and die for each other and confess their love for each other...

“Sure.” Dean’s mouth decides for him. “We could – we could do that.”

So they get into bed together.

Cas slides in as though this is his regular night time routine, looking totally at ease in his new ‘jungle dreams’ bedding and borrowed blanket. Dean’s hands shake as he lifts up the covers and slides in too. He waits for it to be weird, waits for discomfort and his father’s face swimming in front of eyes.

Instead, he just feels warm.

They’re led next to each other, unmoving and flat on their backs. Dean’s right leg is about to fall off the bed and Cas’ shoulder looks like it’s digging into the nightstand. Maybe this bed wasn’t made to fit two fully grown men too afraid to touch.

“Dean, are you comfortable? I am not.”

He laughs and rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, this isn’t great. Maybe if we...uh - ”

“What about if we do this?”

Cas’ hands are suddenly everywhere, manhandling him in a way that Dean has never experienced before but wouldn’t mind experiencing again. He ends up with his head resting on Cas’ chest, forehead pressed against his neck. His right leg has nowhere to go but to hook around Cas’ legs, entwining them together.

And Cas is holding him.

His arms are wrapped around him and not just because they haven’t got anywhere else to go. Because he wants them to go there. Because he wantsto hold Dean. Possibly all night.

Dean starts to panic.

Led like this, his ear is pressed against Cas’ chest – his heartbeat the loudest thing he can hear. What if someone breaks into the Bunker without him knowing? What if something is happening to Sam? To Jack? And he hasn’t even brought a gun with him. He squirms a little, debating on popping back to his room to get one when Cas says,

“Are you thinking about getting a weapon, Dean? I promise you, you won’t need it.”

Cas’ deep voice rumbles through his body, rocking him out of his spiralling worry so quickly Dean briefly wonders if he used some of his remaining slither of grace to do it.

“I would never let anything happen to you.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“An intruder? Judging by our current position, I assume I am the being most visible from the door.”

Dean’s fingers curl in Cas’ borrowed sweater. “You mean you’d be shot first?”

“Yes.” Dean feels his arms tighten around him for a moment. “And I believe my body would shield you from the vast majority of attacks.” He sighs and his breath tickles Dean’s hair. “Of course, if someone were to gain access to the Bunker, it’s likely they would be a supremely powerful being. That would reduce our chance of survival by quite a lot. However, if you really insist on being armed, I am confident that in the few seconds I could shield you, you could at least reach for a makeshift weapon. Whatever good it would do.”

“Right. But...” Dean doesn’t really feel comforted. “I don’t want you to...” He can’t quite say the word.

“Die?” Cas finishes for him as his fingers begin to move, leaving warm trails over Dean’s back. “No, I cannot say that I am enthused by the idea either. I have no desire to leave you again.”

“Not ever?” Dean asks and despises himself for the needy edge in his voice.

“Not ever.” His hands are moving now, big and slow in soothing motions against Dean’s back. He can’t remember the last time he was held like this. Mom, he thinks. When he was a kid. He knows he must look pathetic – six foot plus guy that’s been to hell and back being held like a baby. He should move, should pull away, wipe his eyes and tell Cas it’s time he went back to his own room.

He doesn’t want to.

“You love me.” He says instead, face burning and mouth dry.

He feels Cas smile against the crown of his head. “Yes.”

“You’re like...in love with me.”

One of Cas’ hands moves higher, fingertips trailing over the back of his neck leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Yes.”

Dean will never admit to the half moan, half whine he lets out. He buries his face in Cas’ chest and breathes him in. The smell of him fills Dean’s lungs and Cas’ arms start to feel like a weighted blanket, pressing gently on his body. It makes his eyes soft and his limbs heavy.

As he drifts off, he feels Cas’ lips brushing against his temple.

Dean wakes slowly.

He’s cocooned in softness and warmth and he has no desire to rush anything anymore – least of all to the leave the comfort of his (new) memory foam and his angel. He shifts a little, nuzzling his nose against stubble.

“I thought you were making breakfast.” Cas’ voice rolls over him slow and sweet like honey.

“Hmm.” A murmur, breathed into Cas’ neck, is all Dean can manage.

“Dean, you did promise them.” Cas says, with barely a hint of firmness. His voice is a little husky, like he’s still battling the urge to sleep.

“Oh, yeah? When?” Dean’s lips brush over warm skin.

“Last night.”

He pretends to forget. “Can’t take anything I said last night serious, Cas.”

“Oh?” He sounds a bit more awake now – that familiar dry, teasing tone creeping in.

Dean feels a pang of something in his chest so intense he almost squirms. “Alright, maybe some things were serious.”

“Hmm.” One of Cas’ hands rubs languid strokes up and down his back. “I should hope so.”

The memories come back easy and bright, playing like a dream behind Dean’s heavy eyelids. The stillness of their bedroom is punctuated by the sound of quiet voices in the living room. He grins at that, relishing waking up with the love of his life and his family just in the next room. Happy. Safe.

“Screw ‘em.” Dean says, more to himself than Cas and rubs his foot along his leg a few times, settling down again.

Cas doesn’t seem to have any objections. His hand strokes higher, fingers brushing through Dean’s hair and his blunt nails lightly graze his scalp.

Dean almost whines, his head lifting to follow the touch. He half opens his eyes again and sees a smile, unhurried and adoring. Cas leans down a little and kisses him, stubble rough and lips soft. Dean’s fingers curl against skin and his legs squeeze a muscled thigh beneath the blankets.

They stay that way for a while – bodies warm and entwined, gently greeting each other as the new day dawns. The rising sun has drenched the room in rich yellow light, soft and muffled through the curtains.

Cas’ hand is just caressing his hip and his tongue is getting hotter and more demanding in Dean’s very willing mouth when there’s a knock at the door.

“I know you’re both awake.” Sam’s voice rumbles through the door, amused and still a little sleep rough. “And don’t think we forgot about breakfast either. Eileen wants pancakes and she says I don’t make them right.”

“Not unhealthy enough!” Eileen voice calls out, a little further away.

Dean laughs against Cas’ lips.

“Alright, alright! Gimme five.”

As they slowly detangle, he catches a glimpse of silver as Cas stretches. Dean’s hand feels heavy and warm, like someone’s been holding it for hours. Dean yawns and dangles one leg out of bed, then another. He’s easing himself into the day, taking it a bit at a time.

He can do that now.

He laughs as Cas drags him in for one last kiss before he slides away, shoving his feet into his slippers and tugging on his trusty robe. His ties it around him and wanders, a little stiff-legged, to the window. He pulls back the curtains and from the bed Cas both grumbles and raises his face to meet the sunrise.

Dean watches the sun bathe him in bright light and remembers seeing him like this before. But then it was moonlight and he and Cas were at some shitty motel just out of Colorado. Not in their own house, not in theirbedroom. Dean has his first unbearably intense wave of wild happiness. It won’t be the last one today.

“I like having a window.”

“I liked having eyesight.” Cas mutters, burying himself into the covers.

Dean laughs and thwacks him on the thigh as he passes out the door. Cas’ll be up in his own time.

Four steps and Dean’s in the kitchen.

His brother is perched on one of the chairs at the little island separating the kitchen from the living room. Eileen is signing at him and he’s watching, completely enraptured, with a look of total adoration on his face. Dean would have laughed at him for that once. Now, he knows what it’s like when someone looks at him like that. Now he knows what it’s like to look at someone like that.

But he might still laugh a bit. That’s a big brother’s right.

“Mornin’!” He calls cheerily, rummaging in the fridge for eggs and milk. He emerges triumphant, plopping them onto the counter with a grin. “If the lady wants pancakes, the lady gets pancakes.”

“Best brother in law ever.” Eileen says and Sam almost falls off his seat. She just shrugs cheekily. “Unofficially.”

“For now.” Dean winks and Sam splutters.

“Right, well. Once you’ve finished marrying me off, can we get some breakfast?”

“Alright, alright!” Dean glares but he’s itching to get started. “Goddamn demanding baby. Eileen you could do so much better. Sadly, I’m already taken - ”

She laughs and so does Sam. He wraps an arm around Eileen’s waist and she plays with his hair as they all talk. They talk about Jack getting hyperactive on sugared almonds, about Claire and Kaia wearing matching suits, about Jody and Donna getting drunk and singing karaoke until they were booed off the stage.

Then Cas stumbles out of their soft-lit room; hair wild and face crumpled. He bids them all good morning in a slightly rough tone before shuffling over for coffee. He cradles his mug in both hands as he leans against the corner counter, basking in the sun with his eyes closed.

Dean watches him, aching with joy.

Being in the dark with Cas is easy. But being with him in the light is better.

He twirls the whisk in his hand and it knocks against the ring on his left hand, so new it glows against his skin. Cas kisses his neck as he passes into the living room and Dean grins, looking up at his family.

“Hey, Eileen. What’s the sign for ‘husband’?”

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fic #spn fic #userstarry #dean and cas night time snippets throughout the years #it's mostly cute #ahhhhh my first spn fic i'm so excited #i really loved working on this #mine

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kingreywrites · 3 years ago

Text

to treasure that heart like I do

Prompt: “You almost died and you’re making jokes?” for @royygbivv

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2237

Summary: Rapunzel bites her lips. Looks away. The silence is tense between them, and he wants to reach out but he's not sure if that'll help at all. He can't… He can't recall what led them here, with him wounded and her upset with him but- Whatever he did, he wants to make it right.

Note: i finally manage to write something and of course it’s self-indulgent new dream hurt/comfort.... i’m a happy one trick pony :’)

Read on ao3

His return to consciousness is slow. Like his mind is working through a thick fog, unable to focus on anything, to grasp anything except the emptiness. He's aimlessly floating for the longest time - or no time at all? And then, it starts. A dull ache emanating from the back of his neck; the feeling of something soft under his fingertips; the heaviness of his body, solid and real; and a caress, a hand trailing down his skin, murmurs he can't hear around him. Little by little, the fog smothering him lifts, and Eugene blinks his eyes open, met by the familiar sight of Hookfoot's hammock above him, and the welcome sight of that same hammock being empty. (He always worries that Hookfoot is gonna fall on him one of these days, with how much he wiggles at night.)

Eugene's vision is blurry. The room is too bright. He feels exhausted which, considering he literally just woke up, is a little worrying. And his head hurts a lot, though he draws blank as to why.

Slowly, he tries to raise his hand to his head, his limb clumsy and uncooperative. Eugene tenses, and his pain spikes, making him groan under his breath and close his eyes again. His head is swimming, and suddenly, he remembers that weird feeling of floating, away and away and away.

"Eugene?"

A whisper, from the only voice he wants to hear right now. And a hand, small but holding his own without any trouble, slowly bringing it back down to his chest.

"Sorry, you shouldn't touch your wound."

"Hey Sunshine," he says quietly, breathing deeply to try and get his pain under control.

After... a minute, or maybe ten, Eugene opens his eyes again, a smile on his face when he sees the bright blond hair and the very green eyes peering down at him. She's frowning. Belatedly, his mind catches up to her words, and this wound he shouldn't touch - how did he get hurt?

Thinking is hard. His mind is still sluggish, and he's parched, which Rapunzel seems to guess since she gently helps him up to drink. The change in position is nauseating, but Eugene does his best to hide it, hating the worry clouding Rapunzel's eyes. She puts a glass of water to his lips, and though he tries to hold it himself, he's too aware of how his hand shakes, and how it would fall if she let go.

"Thanks," he mumbles when she takes it away, too worn out to feel ashamed. It's okay; it's Rapunzel with him. He trusts her with everything.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, strangely quiet through it all.

He looks at her again - wishes he could read her expression perfectly. Beyond the expected concern, he thinks he sees anger in the way her mouth twitches, but Rapunzel is better at restraint than most people expect, and because he knows her, Eugene also knows that loving her doesn't always make it easier to guess what she's feeling.

"Sore," he says finally, and it's the truth, though it should come after the various aches and pains he can feel in his bones. "My head hurts a bit," he adds reluctantly, when her expression doesn't change.

Rapunzel bites her lips. Looks away. The silence is tense between them, and he wants to reach out but he's not sure if that'll help at all. He can't… He can't recall what led them here, with him wounded and her upset with him but- Whatever he did, he wants to make it right.

"You should rest," she says, in a tone clearly implying this sentence to be a conclusion, even though they barely talked.

Eugene's heart is beating loudly in his chest, and he grabs her hand when she moves to make him lie down again. She raises an eyebrow, and he honestly didn't think that far - he doesn't know what he wants to say, to ask, and he feels like he should at least apologise but he can't even be sure about what. Rapunzel looks as exhausted as he feels, her clothes wrinkled and her hair in more disarray than she usually allows.

"Are you okay?" he asks, because even when he doesn't know what to say, or do, he always wants to be sure of that.

Rapunzel laughs. He hadn't expected that. She laughs, puts her hand in front of her mouth and turns her head to the side, and laughs again, the shake of her shoulders resembling a sob. All of the sudden, she's crying, desperately muffling her tears as she hides from him, and there's no pain in the world that could prevent Eugene from straightening up - no dizziness that could keep him from leaning forward and touching her. She doesn't react, not to his touch, not to his scared and babbled reassurances that he's fine, she's fine, they're all okay, so please breathe Sunshine, for me-

She shudders. Heaves. Turns towards him finally, and hugs him, a force in her grip that she can't contain. He thought that he was going to hold her together, but it feels like she's doing that for him, holding him tight so he can never fall through her grasp again.

Fall… There's an echo of his name being yelled in his mind. Of an outstretched hand he couldn't take, and of falling and falling, the moment quick and eternal at the same time.

"Of course he asks me if I'm fine," Rapunzel bites out wetly, interrupting his thoughts. The third person is a bad omen, even if she's holding him in his arms. "Of course Eugene 'I've got a death wish' Fitzherbert asks me if I'm fine as if I'm the one who fell down a cliff and right onto her head!"

Her voice gets higher and higher as she talks, and Eugene winces, fragments of the story falling into place. He doesn't say sorry. He won't say sorry because he was worried about her. So he nods quietly, knowing she needs to say that.

"Is it too much to ask you to worry about yourself? Why do you- Why do you keep doing that!" she exclaims, frustration and fear choking her, head still on his shoulder (which he guesses wouldn't make the situation look as serious to anyone else - but he hears in her voice something scared and little that he isn't used to from her, and her holding him doesn't change that).

That. Why does he keep doing that. His memories are still muddled, difficult to navigate through, but he sees her smiling next to him. They're alone - a date, he remembers, she took him on a date that day - and they're having fun but… He's not sure about that part. He remembers being scared. Looking at Rapunzel from far away, and knowing he had to get to her. He was scared, and she was too when he pushed her; he remembers her expression, the shock and the realisation, his name on her lips as he felt the ground under him give and-

He fell. He pushed her - fell to save her?

Eugene doesn't say sorry there either. Because he's not. His head hurts, everything is blurry, but he'd sacrifice himself a hundred times over if it was to save her. She knows it, just like he does.

"I'm okay," he repeats softly, and she snorts.

"Do you even- Do you even know what I- fuck," she cries, gripping him tighter as he startles. Rapunzel doesn't swear. She doesn't like it, and prefers to steer away from it, which is endearing in his opinion, but makes the occasional swearing so much worse. Her voice is wrung out, hoarse, and the guilt he was keeping at bay slams into him full force, because she's miserable and it's his fault.

He cranes his head around to try to look at her, and it's his worst idea of the hour - he's not quick enough to swallow his own grunt, and suddenly Rapunzel is letting go of him, trying to get him back in bed. Her eyes are red, tears staining her pale cheeks, and he wonders how long she had waited for him to wake up before now. Had she slept? He thinks Cass would force her to leave his side, (and for all that they bicker he's grateful Rapunzel has someone that dedicated in her corner), but even she couldn't push Rapunzel to really sleep if she wasn't able to.

He doesn't allow himself to be laid down just yet, resisting the hand on his chest easily. She's being careful with him. Rapunzel can't meet his eyes, and as he's about to say… Anything, really, to try and make her feel better, when she whispers, voice heavy: "I thought you died."

She doesn't say again. He hears it anyway. The weight in his throat triples, and he holds her hand like an anchor, unsure as to which of them is lost in the storm.

"You- You fell," she stutters painfully, "and then you weren't moving. There was… a lot of blood, around your head. From where I was, I couldn't be sure- I thought- I thought-"

"I'm sorry," he says this time, without hesitation. He's not sorry for worrying about her, not sorry for saving her, but he's so deeply sorry for putting her through anything like that, for making her worry and cry and relive the tower and- He's sorry, and he repeats it again, because he feels like he's choking with remorse. "I'm so sorry Sunshine, I- I never wanted-"

"I know." Soft. Resigned. Loving, too, accepting his apology because she really did know that.

When she pushes him back on his bed this time, he lets her, and lies down again. His head is pounding, and he's tired, but- he feels like he should apologise again, and knows he shouldn't. He raises his hand to her cheek, and she holds it here, closing her eyes.

"Head injuries bleed a lot," she explains, voice quiet. "I- Cass said your wound didn't seem deep and that you were lucky."

"How did Cass get there?"

"I… may have carried you all the way to the caravan. While crying." She rubs at her nose uneasily, but there's a small smile on her lips he's so glad to see again. "It wasn't my proudest moment."

"Can't believe I wasn't conscious for this," he grins. "I like it when you carry me."

"It was very romantic," she says, playing along as she strokes his hair. "A princess has to rescue her dashing rogue from time to time."

He laughs at that, a speck of pride at her agreement that yes, he was indeed quite dashing. "You save me all the time, though."

"So do you," she answers. She's smiling, but it dims as her eyes fall on his bandage again, and her shoulders slump. He saves her, and puts his life in danger, and that's the problem here, isn't it?

He knows she's scared of losing him. He knows, and understands, because he's just as scared of losing her, just as afraid that what happened with Gothel will happen again. It's a terror that used to keep them up at night, that never truly left, and he can't- he can't imagine what she felt, when she saw him down there and thought he died. Silently, he vows to make it up to her, any way he can.

"It's all good, then," he says after a while. When she looks at him, a question in her eyes, he smiles, hesitant and honest. "You save me, and I save you, again and again, until we just keep saving each other. That way, no one has to get hurt."

She considers his words, and chuckles. "I guess that's true."

A beat. His eyes are heavy, and Eugene feels exhaustion drape over him gently, trying to drag him down to sleep again. There's something else he wants to say, though, so he resists as best as he can.

"Sunshine?" he whispers, and she hums quietly. "Next time… I'll try harder to not get hurt if I save you. I promise."

He sees how she bites back her usual protests. She doesn't answer with optimism, or anger - doesn't tell him that there will be no next time, that he should stop all together. Instead, she breathes in deeply, and says "Thank you". It's honest, and relieved, and Eugene knows she means it.

The moment passes, and Eugene knows, now, that they are okay again. As good as they can be.

"Can't promise I won't ever fall off a cliff again," he notes, words garbled when he yawns in the middle of his sentence.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, because - no matter how much time passes," he says, a wide smile on his face, "I will never stop falling for you."

She stills. He wiggles his eyebrows. Her mouth twitches, not in anger this time, but announcing the full body laughter that follows suit, Rapunzel hiding her head in her hands to try to contain it.

"That was terrible!" she announces loudly, though she's obviously still laughing in her hands. "You- You almost died and you're making jokes?"

"Well, was it funny?"

"No!" she exclaims, laughing. He'll take it.

This time, when he falls asleep, the last thing he sees is the brilliant smile on her face, and he knows she'll be there when he wakes up.

#tangled #tangled the series #Eugene Fitzherbert #Rapunzel #New Dream

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bugsbucky · 4 years ago

Text

Special Birthday Girl

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt: DDs: it’s your birthday and unfortunately, you and Sebastian/Bucky had a fight a few days ago and still aren’t talking. There’s a delivery of a large bouquet of flowers from your partner but the note attached makes you anxious he’s hinting for a breakup. How do you make up when you learn the note was just worded incorrectly?

Warnings: Angst, lots of tension, fluff, happy ending!

Word Count: 1,466 (Yikes!)

Authors Notes: This is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club Extended Drunk Drabbles! A really really big thank you to my tumblrmama @hawksmagnolia for your help with this prompt! Couldn’t have finished it without you!!

Happy birthday sweetheart!!! Hope you have a great day!

Many kisses Y/N! Have a fantastic day!

Happy Birthday!!!

Happy birthday, you beautiful human!

The birthday messages kept pouring in from your friends and family. Everyone close to you had wished you a happy birthday, everyone except Bucky.

The atmosphere in your tiny single bedroom apartment was uncomfortably thick. Even his Avenger friends picked up on the tension as soon as they had walked into the space.

The two of you had had a pretty heated fight a week ago about his continued grumpiness. Bucky was tired, you understood that since he’s been working so much, but his short patience with you was making you crazy. It seemed he bit your head off every time you opened your mouth. You were officially done with his surly mood so you chose to put him in his place, warning him that if he didn’t stop talking to you like that then he shouldn’t bother talking to you at all.

Since that day, he has chosen the latter and hasn’t spoken to you since. Whenever you and Bucky have fought in the past, one of you would usually break the silence after an hour. You kept expecting him to try and fix things, like apologise for his hostile remarks but nothing. You feared this was the end of your relationship, that this was his way of breaking up without saying it.

It was like two strangers under the same roof. You still shared the same bed, but at different times. You cooked and ate your own meals separately and spent most of the day in a different room away from each other.

But today was your birthday and while you were really happy to receive such beautiful messages from those who loved you, the memory of your angry outburst and his silence sat heavily on top of your shoulders. Just knowing that you and Bucky weren’t okay was making it difficult to enjoy your day.

A sudden knock echoes throughout the apartment startles you and your head jerks to the door in the hopes to hear Bucky striding to answer it. When you hear nothing after a couple of heartbeats another loud knock comes. You huff in frustration and stomp towards the door. You hadn’t heard Bucky leave the apartment and knew he was here somewhere. He had come in very early this morning and you assumed he’d crashed on the couch. You’d been hiding in the bedroom, hoping the door would muffle any tears.

Would it really be such an inconvenience for him to answer the damn door?

You yank the door open with more force than you intended to use and your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. A delivery man in brown uniform stood in front of you holding a beautifully wrapped large bouquet of flowers in one hand and a clipboard in the other.

“Good afternoon ma’am! Are you Miss Y/L/N?”

You nodded. “Um yes, that’s me.”

“Great. I’ve got a delivery for you from Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.” Hearing his full name caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“Oh.” You blew out a surprised breath. He’d bought you flowers for your birthday? Your excitement died a bit and you swallowed a knot in your throat realizing he could have ordered them well before your fight.

The man clears his throat and you blink at him. It’s then you realize that he’s holding the flowers out for you to take them. You take them gracefully as possible, quickly scribbling your name down on the piece of paper and nudging the door closed with your foot.

Setting the flowers down on the side in the kitchen, you go on a hunt for a big enough vase to fit the bunch. As you’re about to turn away, you see a note wedged between the petals from your peripheral vision.

Plucking the note between your fingers, your eyes scanning over the words printed on the back of it.

My love, I’m wishing you the happiest of birthdays. May the light guide your loneliness in your future adventures.

Yours, Bucky

What the absolute fuck did that mean? Your eyebrows furrow as you re-read it over and over and it still does not make any sense in your mind. Was he seriously hinting of a breakup with you? On your birthday of all days?!

Tossing the card on the kitchen counter, you take a step back and rub your temples. Tears were pooling in your eyes with the fear of what it meant.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Bucky asked from behind you. The first three words he has spoken since your fight and his voice sounds almost foreign to you now. “Did you not like my flowers?” His voice was deep and raspy, as though he just woken up from his nap. You sensed some guilt there too.

“They are nice.” You breathed, keeping your eyes closed as your heart raced. This was truly the shittiest of birthdays you’ve ever had.

“Y/N.” You could feel his body heat in front of you, his footsteps were silent thanks to his experience as an assassin. His large hands wrapped around your wrists and pulled them away from your face. Tears slid down your cheeks and you averted your gaze everywhere but on him.

“Are you breaking up with me?” The words rolled off your tongue before you could swallow them down. Might as well give the shitty day a high five and get it over with.

For a moment, Bucky looks stunned. It’s quickly replaced with confusion as his brows knit together. “Of course not! We’re adults here, I know we can and will fix it. It was just a stupid little fig-”

“Then why word the note the way you did? What the fuck does it even mean? You make it sound like I’m going into my future alone without you. And today of all days, Bucky! It’s my fucking birthday and I can’t believe you’d do this!”

The crease between his eyebrows deepens and now he’s more confused by what you meant. “What note are you talking about, doll?”

You refrain from rolling your eyes, the leftover anger from your fight and frustration of the week of silent treatment coming to the surface. You stepped around his large frame and almost punched the card into his chest.

He read over the note and you took mental notes of his expressions. Confusion that was replaced by anger. His nostrils flared as he ripped the card up and threw the pieces on the floor.

“I didn’t write that. That’s not even close to what I told the girl to write.” He scoffed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“What do you mean?”

“The girl at the flower shop has this weird crush on me. I told her what I wanted the writing to say and that was not it and clearly she fucked it up deliberately.”

You looked at each other and soon it became a staring contest. A small smile fighting its way to your lips and you shift under his intense gaze.

“Y/N.” He whispered, stepping closer. “I promise baby, I’m not breaking up with you. I wouldn’t even dream of it. I know we haven’t talked this past week and believe me, it killed me. I had to keep fighting the urge to curl into you at night and wrap you in my arms. I’m so sorry for my moods and I promise I’ll get my shit together. And believe me, that girl who sabotaged that note will not get away with it.”

This time a smile did find its way to your lips. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face into his chest. He planted a kiss on top of your head and held you close, as though he was afraid you’d turn to dust.

“I love you. So fucking much.” He sighed. His breath fanning against your hair as he spoke.

“I love you too.” You craned your neck upwards and smiled. He kissed the tip of your nose and darted his tongue out to lick his dry lips.

“I’ve missed you.” You whispered. Your chin resting against this broad chest. A goofy grin appears on his face and you already know the next words that will leave his lips.

“Not as much as I’ve missed you. I have a lot of making up to do. But since I didn’t give you your special birthday gift this morning, how about I give it to you now?”

“You better make sure it’s extra special.”

“Extra special for my special girl, coming right up.” He scooped you up into his arms and carried you straight into the bedroom.

Taglist: @jobean12-blog @marvelgirl7 @godofplumsandthunder @hawksmagnolia @deanthedemon @eurynome827 @emilylyoness @buckybarnesplumwhore @sarge-barnes-sir @crushedbyhyperbole @this-kitten-is-smitten @kitkatd7 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @littleredstarfish @buckys-henley @tuiccim @mystoragehatesme @starspangledseb @bambamwolf87 @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

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shinysobi · 3 years ago

Text

i came in from the outside, burnt out from the joyride (ii)

this was born out of a conversation with @akinosakiya, so all credits go to her >.<

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | coming soon

ao3

(A/N: so... i am extremely sorry for not updating,,, uni and life has been generally kicking my ass pretty horribly (im in my final semester lol) and while i am not generally very happy with this chapter, it is important because it sets up a lot of things in the future yeeet)

word count: 4955

Attorney Park wishes her good luck as she leaves for the courthouse the next day, and Sol can’t help but feel as though he was laughing at her for some reason, and frantically checks for food stuck in her teeth on the way to the courthouse. There isn’t any, so she’s left to wonder exactly what the hell he meant when he had sent her off with a very cryptic “see you soon, Kang Sol.”

“What did he even mean?” she mutters to herself, calling her sister, “Ah, Byeol, remember to go to your academy today, all right?”

“Okay, eonni,” her sister replies, “you’re at the courthouse, aren’t you?”

“Hmm, I have a case to win,” she replies, and Byeol wishes her good luck before the call goes silent, and she allows herself a rare moment of self-reflection, taking in the image of the Courthouse. It’s imposing, but she curiously feels at home here, in the middle of the city where the noise of the cars is so loud, she can’t hear the person next to her sometimes. There’s something magical about the courthouse, and she isn’t romanticising it, but the idea of fighting for justice, no matter how imperfect, it fills her with pride, even more so when she knows that what she is doing is for good.

Not to say that there aren’t any downsides to it, either. She gets threats almost on the daily, from disgruntled clients and from people who want her to take the case, even though she knows it would be an affront to her dignity. The Dean’s voice floats into her ear, reciting the Attorneys-at-act law that allows her to reject a case if she wants to. Right. It does not feel like an insult to her now like it had done then, the act, because she chose to take this case on, and yet, here she is, standing in front of the courthouse, wearing her nicest clothes (Yeseul had raised an eyebrow, but she was too tired to pay any attention to her) and dreading her turn to go inside.

“Eonni!” a voice calls out, and it’s Yeseul, dressed for a case, “how long do you have before you have to go in?” Sol doesn’t need to check her watch to tell the time that is left, ten minutes on the dot, and she’s waiting for her client to come through, still in police custody, something which she had failed to stop, “are you staring off into space again?”

She recovers quickly, “no, I was just waiting for the defendant to be brought here by the police.” She turns to Yeseul, who’s evidently not had much sleep, “why are you here in my case? Didn’t you wrap one up today?”

“Ah, I did,” Yeseul smiles, taking a hold of Sol’s arm, “but I’m here now, aren’t I? I thought you would need some support, you know, since you—”

She doesn’t complete the sentence. She doesn’t need to. Sol smiles at her, loops their arms together, and says, “do you want to have coffee?”

Yeseul grins, “I’d love to.”

—

No matter how many times she’s walked in here, and no matter how much the courthouse makes her feel at ease, there’s still a part of her that is anxious when she stands in front of it, hoping that she might be able to provide adequate justice to the person she was defending. It throws her off sometimes, the court of law. But she can always find her way back to it, and perhaps this is why she loves it, loves being able to defend people from being betrayed by the same system that they had put so much trust in, betrayed, just like she had been. It’s as though the law is apologising to her, albeit in its own, slightly twisted way.

The defendant, Je Sang-Hee, sits at her designated position, looking at her, and Sol draws herself up to her full height, careful to not catch anyone’s eye on the other side of the courthouse. Its oddly suffocating, the courthouse today, the air thick with a sort of anticipation that she doesn’t really want to address. Yeseul squeezes her arm, whispering, “you’ll do good, eonni,” and all of a sudden, she’s standing there, alone, with only her wits there for help. Shit. I wish I had had gotten drunk last night. At least this would have been hazier.

She approaches the bench, the defendant sitting silently, and tries to reassure her, “don’t worry, we’ll clear your name, all right?” she’s met with silence, as Sang-Hee only nods, her eyes welling with unshed tears. It’s heart-breaking, the way Sang-Hee has accepted her punishment, accepted that she would be going to prison anyway, so, nothing really matters. Sol doesn’t want that for her. She doesn’t want that for anyone, not even the worst of criminals. Sure, she may not be defending them in the court of law, but everyone should benefit from the assumption of innocence. She may not be the one speaking up for them, but she does wish that people have the opportunity to prove themselves innocent.

There aren’t many people in attendance in the courthouse today, which is a blessing, but she also has to deal with pesky reporters stationed outside, who seemed to have taken an interest in the woman accused of attempted murder, despite having really, no evidence against her. It was funny, how people jumped to conclusions, just because of the person’s backgrounds, or due to a particular defamatory article that may have been published about them online. Sang-Hee had had one published about her, filled with lies so vile that Sol couldn’t even read through it once.

“Sang-Hee ssi,” She says, approaching the defendant’s bench, “how are you feeling today?”

Je Sang-Hee looks at her, eyes still shining with tears, and lowers her gaze. She can’t even speak. Sol is angry, of course, but even more than the anger that simmers inside of her, is frustration, for not being able to protect her client, frustration at being unable to be the person there for the victim.

“Eonni,” Yeseul’s voice drags her out of her little reverie, “eonni, I think Joon-hwi oppa is here now.”

Sol squints at the younger girl, “who told you that?”

Yeseul holds up her phone, “Bok-gi is going to be here too, so he texted me. The two of them are going to come along, him and Jiho. Jiho should be here by now, but he hasn’t texted yet.”

Sol just—stares at Yeseul for a moment, trying to understand the volley of information that had just been thrown at her, in a manner not unlike that of Professor Yang, the man who, Sol recollects with regret, had heard about this whole mess from Sol B, but had not once offered to help. She didn’t need his help, though. It’s just that he could have offered to help her, and it would have been nice.

“Eonni,” Yeseul says, warning evident in her voice, “he’s here.”

What she doesn’t say, but Sol knows, is the sentence, don’t worry, I’m here for you. I’ll be here for you. She didn’t need it, per se, but it felt nice to know that at least one person had her back in this courthouse. Bok-gi was of course, on her side too, but she knew he wouldn’t sacrifice Joon-Hwi. Not now, anyway.

“You have your back to the Prosecutor’s bench,” Yeseul elbows her lightly, and she realises that yes, she has indeed been standing with her back towards the Prosecution’s bench all this while, and most importantly, there was someone behind her.

“Attorney Kang,” She knows that voice, has heard it in her head for years now, but Kang Sol finds herself unable to lift her gaze from the linoleum floor as she grasps the warm hand that was now being offered to her, “nice to meet you, finally.”

There’s a teasing lilt to the last word, a certain edge to the syllable that she knows all too well, having been subjected to it for hours on end, in classes, in the copy room, in the café, even in her mind. It’s from a voice she knows all too well, someone she had wronged.

Courage, Kang Sol.

“Hello, Prosecutor Han,” she looks up, extending one hand to the man in front of her, and—

She didn’t have any expectations of how she would meet Han Joon-Hwi after so many years, but in the deeper recesses of her mind, she had a thought; of his eyes widening at seeing her face for the first time in so many years, her falling in love with him all over again. She had thought of looking—no, not just looking, looking at him, for the first time in so many years, after that one fateful day when she ignored the words of her heat and went running far away from him, perhaps falling in love all over again.

Instead—she feels nothing. Perhaps a pang of guilt somewhere in the recesses of her mind, but when she looks into the eyes of Han Joon-Hwi, her best friend, the person she had fallen in love with, Kang Sol doesn’t see anyone but a weathered prosecutor, the boy who had called out her name on graduation day in Hankuk Law school long gone. Even though he looks not a day older, even though his eyes still crinkle in the same way when he smiles, and his hand still holds the same weight when he takes her hand for a handshake, but she can’t find the boy she was in love with anymore.

“Attorney Kang,” he grins, and his voice is the same, teasing when he looks at her, smiles at her, but he is her opponent, she has to defeat him today. This isn’t preparing for mock trials and judicial competitions, where they only played at being lawyers and prosecutors, this is real life. Je Sang-Hee’s life depends upon her, Kang Sol, winning this case. Against him, Han Joon-Hwi.

“Noona, nice to see you again,” Bok-gi pushes forward, giving her a warm hug, which does its job to dissipate all errant thoughts of a boy whose smile had haunted her in her dreams, “I’ll be watching today, my law firm asked me to—”

“Don’t worry about that,” she assures him, “you can take all the notes you want.” He’s still looking at her, she realises when she lets go of Bok-gi, Han Joon-Hwi is still staring at me. Do I have something in my teeth? “Good luck today, Prosecutor Han.”

He grins at her then, dimpled smile making her heart skip a beat, and says, “I don’t need luck, Attorney Kang,” before sauntering off to his seat.

Kang Sol clenches her jaw. Asshole.

He wasn’t sure how it would be—their meeting for the first time, but Joon isn’t going to say he’s dissatisfied with it. sure, she’s grown up now—she isn’t Kang Sol A anymore, she goes by just Kang Sol, and he doesn’t have the pesky tag of second-round judicial passer hanging around his neck anymore.

She had stared him down, and to no surprise, he still found her beautiful. Sure, he had always thought that there was a sort of magnetic aura around Sol, something that commanded the attention of an entire room when she walked in. She looked the same as she had looked, five years ago, when he had tried to confess to her, and she had rejected him. Sol hadn’t told him that she was rejecting him, at least not explicitly; Han Joon-Hwi was a man who could take a hint, especially if it ran away from him while he was in the middle of his confession. Really, Kang Sol. You made me chase you all the way to this courtroom.

A hand slams down on his desk, and Seo Jiho’s irritated voice tells him, “If you’re going to stare, at least do it properly.”

He sputters, suddenly thankful that his co-prosecutor was running late, as he stood up to stare at his ex-roommate, who was porting a very uncharacteristic grin, “what do you mean by that? I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure, you weren’t,” Jiho says, and even Bok-gi sniggers at him, “you were just looking in the general direction of Sol noona, so much so that everyone in the room thinks that the two of you are either dating, or that you want to kill her. Personally, I prefer the latter.”

He doesn’t say anything, just grumbles under his breath, and Jiho presses on, “did you prepare well for this case? You do realise that your evidence is weak, do you?”

“Ah, of course, hyung knows it,” Bok-gi steps in to intervene, and Joon-Hwi thinks for a moment that yes, Bok-gi was always one of the better ones, and then he opens his mouth again, “he’s just ignoring all the things he said before entering the courthouse, and proving to all of us how much of a hypocrite he is.”

Joon glares at Bok-gi, who is giggling at him now, and turns to look at the judge’s bench a pout on his face. Sure, he had proclaimed in the car that he would “not be looking at her, nope”, and the fact that it had taken him exactly three minutes to break that promise was bit laughable, but his friends didn’t have to rub it into his face.

“I don’t understand,” Bok-gi asks, “why are you still hung up on her? You basically took this case just so you could meet her again, and even though the two of you haven’t talked in years, you still talk about her, you still ask about her when you get the chance, so what is going on?”

Joon-Hwi doesn’t answer. He knows what is going on, why he has been so intent on meeting Kang Sol, even after so long, but he doesn’t want to—no, he can’t tell Bok-gi that. He feels a pang of guilt whenever he even thinks of telling Bok-gi the actual reason behind him running after Sol, even though she had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

He wonders, sometimes.

His co-prosecutor arrives in the courtroom, almost gliding over the floor to take their seat, and he can see Kang Sol shrink back a little, obviously intimidated. He doesn’t hide his smile anymore, not that he needs to either. She didn’t have to get flustered over his co-prosecutor entering the damn courtroom. She’s never done that, at least from what Bok-gi and Yebeom have told him; even Jiho had pitched in with his own comments sometimes, knowing exactly how much it pissed him off, but he still did it. Every time he met Bok-gi or he met Yeseul, he would ask about her, waiting for them to respond with “oh, she’s doing okay, oppa” and “I met her a few weeks ago, she was fine, hyung” and they move on after that, but he can’t.

They don’t possibly expect him to move on from her, do they?

“All rise,” the bailiff announces, and he dutifully stands up, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sol gently helps the defendant to rise up alongside her, before being seated again. She still did that little thing when she looked around the entire courtroom for people watching her, he thinks to herself. She’s still the same Sol. No, she’s different now. We both are. We both are different, but there’s still things about her that remind me of the times we spent in Hankuk.

“Prosecutor Han,” the judge tells him, and he stands up quickly to his feet, “begin.”

“Thank you, Your Honour,” He says, walking out to the defendant’s bench, “defendant Je Sang-Hee, you were indicted on charges of attempted murder, following an attack on your fiancé, Seo Changmin, on the fourteenth of November, two weeks prior to your indictment.”

“Yes, I was,” she begins, “but I didn’t do anything to—”

“I’ll be the one asking questions here,” he cuts her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sol draw an almost-imperceptible breath, shaking her head at him. She isn’t flustered. He’s very sure she isn’t flustered, because the two of them have been on opposite sides of each other, time and time again, “could you confirm that Seo Changmin suffered injuries because of you?”

She stares at him, defiant, and replies, “he did not suffer injuries because of me, I found him and I called the police, I’ve told you this.”

“Yes, you have,” Joon walks to the front of the witness’ bench, “but your whereabouts were also unknown that night, until that fateful moment when you actually found your fiancé, and proceeded to assault him. Is that right?”

She looks at him, scowling. He’s hit a nerve, apparently. They had been harping on that aspect for far too long than what was necessary, Joon had noticed when he had been preparing. He couldn’t go that way when he questioned her, because he knows Sol has prepared for it.

So, he changes his track of questioning, “Ms Sang-Hee, would I be wrong in assuming that Mr Changmin had visited you five times over the three days prior to the accident?”

She stares at him, “he is my fiancé. Or he was, before the accident happened. It wasn’t unusual for him to visit me multiple times in a single day.”

He stops, “and yet, when the police asked you about the reason of his visits, you chose to remain silent, evading the question—”

“Objection,” Sol says calmly, standing up from her seat, “the prosecution cannot ask leading questions.”

“Sustained,” the judge replies smoothly, even before Joon-Hwi has a chance to respond, “Prosecutor Han, you cannot possibly expect me to accept this in the courthouse.”

He nods his head, slightly irritated, now that she has taken his advantage away, “moving on, Ms. Sang-Hee, when you found Seo Changmin unconscious, why did you not call for an ambulance? You waited ten minutes to call an ambulance, which most people would argue, looks strange, does it not?”

She doesn’t back down an inch. Good. He hadn’t thought she would either. They didn’t have enough evidence to show that she was guilty, her indictment based primarily on circumstantial evidence that even the most punishment-happy of all judges would find difficulty agreeing with. But they had had her indicted, and now they were here, trying to get her a sentence that would be as heavy as possible. Sol had been right. He didn’t have to worry about the defendant, not as a prosecutor. He just had to punish people to the full extent of the law.

“I tried to wake him up multiple times, but he didn’t respond,” Sang-Hee responds, staring at the judge, “I didn’t think it was out of the ordinary, since he had always had a drinking problem, but when he didn’t respond to me calling his name in the morning, that was when I grew worried.”

She looks at him once, then back to her lawyer, Sol, who looked as though she wanted to strangle him. good. This means I’m winning, and turns back to him, “it was like him to come back drunk, so drunk that he could barely remember where he was, and his friends would drop him off at my house, with apologies, but he would repeat his behaviour. I wasn’t too worried when he didn’t respond to my calls at night, but by morning, he would usually be awake and demanding breakfast. That was when I started to get anxious.”

“Anxious? Not worried?” he asks, curiosity spiked by her peculiar choice of words, “were you anxious that he was actually dead? Or were you anxious that your—”

“he’s my fiancé, of course I would be anxious if he was not responding to my calls,” Sang-Hee stares at him, “you must not have dated a lot if you think I wouldn’t have been worried about my fiancé.”

A wave of laughter runs through the court, and he can feel the tips of his ears turn red. Even the judge cracks a smile, and he can see both Bok-gi and Jiho sniggering. They’re never going to let me live this one down, “so, you called the police then, who found your fiancé almost dead from a drug overdose.”

“Yes,” she looks at her hands, fingers intertwined, “they told me he had taken it about four hours before I called them.”

Ah, there it is. He knew it would come to this, he had known there was no way to win this case after all, even if he really did want to win. There were things he couldn’t do after all, despite being what they called a ‘star prosecutor’. “No more questions.”

The smile on Sol’s face is enough to tell him that he’s lost this case. Oddly enough, he doesn’t feel disappointed, even as his partner shoots dirty looks at him, a clear violation of courtroom conduct, but he can’t bring himself to care, fixated on the way she looks while cross-examinating the defendant, the way she turns to the judge and says “no more questions, your Honour.” It’s a far cry from the Sol he remembers at law school, the one who would have him act as prosecutor whenever she went up in a mock trial, even if he had been assigned the role of prosecutor, going up against her. She always asked him to help her practise, and like the fool that he was, he always helped her. Even now, as he stands there, watching her, it’s almost as though he is back at Hankuk; almost, but not quite.

“Court adjourned for the day, and will convene for the next trial on—” Joon can feel himself growing more and more antsy, as the judge announces the date for the next trial, and that Sang-Hee can be released from Judicial custody, especially since her health had been failing due to the stress of the trial and asthma, from which she had suffered since she was young.

He hurries out of the courthouse, only to be cornered by Jiho and Bok-gi at the entrance, Bok-gi with a large grin on his face and Jiho with his trademark expressionless look, although he knows both of them were going to tease him about this, possibly till he died and perhaps even then, they would find a way to sneak it into his eulogy.

Strangely, he didn’t mind it at all.

“Hyung, where are you going?” Bok-gi asks, even as Joon desperately tries to catch a glimpse of Sol through the now-closing courtroom doors, “shouldn’t you be preparing for the next date?”

He looks at Bok-gi for a second, eyes widening, “what are you talking about?”

Bok-Gi’s smile gets wider, if that’s possible, “really? What were you thinking about, hyung? I was talking about the next court date.”

Joon-Hwi huffs, “I was thinking about the same thing, Min Bok-Gi; now, if you will—”

Jiho opens his mouth to say something, but Joon barrels past the two of them, running down the stone steps and to the driveway, where his car was parked, and, presumably, Sol’s too. She’s walking faster now, and he has to run to keep up with her. Her ponytail bobs as she takes quick steps, in a hurry to get away from the courthouse complex. He doesn’t blame her at all.

“Sunbae!” he calls out, loud enough to catch the attention of quite a few people, “Sunbae!”

That catches her attention all right, and she stops in her tracks, turning to him, an irritated expression on her face. It doesn’t stay for long, however, fading just as quickly as it came, “so, you’re still sticking with that name, Han Joon-Hwi?”

He grins, “of course. It wouldn’t be me and you, if I didn’t call you Sunbae, Sunbae.”

She stares at him, with an expression he can’t quite place. “I thought we didn’t have that sort of a relationship anymore, Prosecutor Han.”

And, there it is. He can’t deny it and say that it doesn’t hurt to be treated by Sol this way, but he’s nothing if not tenacious, so he pushes on, “you did good today, in there.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply nods her head, before replying with a curt, “good job today, Prosecutor Han.” Of course, she would say that; he doesn’t want to admit it, but it sort of feels like she had slapped him full across the face. Who am I kidding, if she had done that, it would have perhaps hurt less. He feels like a fool, standing in the middle of the road, calling out her name, and a years-old nickname that she didn’t like, and one that he felt only held significance for him.

What they had not had was closure; or at least for him, it was that, the absence of a final answer to his unasked question, something between them still hanging in the air. She could ignore it, live on with her life, but he cannot. There should have been closure, he’s told himself time and time again, or was I just too unimportant for her to even give a damn. It isn’t true, he knows, Sol wouldn’t do that to him, or to anyone else for that matter, but on some nights, it becomes impossible. He doesn’t blame her either; he blames his own self for the loss of his closest friend. If only he hadn’t been stubborn enough to ask her out on the day of graduation. He should have waited a little bit more.

But then, should he have waited?

“Sol!” he calls out again, jogging lightly to keep up with her steps, “Sol! Wait up for a minute—”

He’s interrupted, Sol turning abruptly to meet him halfway, which results in him having to backtrack, “what do you want now?”

He smiles brightly, “how about Pyongyang naengmyeon? I know a place nearby that’s good.”

She stares at him, like she can’t really figure out his deal. He holds up his hands, “look, all I’m asking for is a meal. No strings attached.”

Surprisingly, she nods once, turning on her heel, “lead the way, Prosecutor Han.”

I should not be doing this.

Her phone buzzes, and it’s Yeseul. You should not be doing this, the text reads, and Sol has to gather all her willpower to not scream in the middle of the street, I know, I fucking know, I shouldn’t be doing this with him right now, going for lunch when there’s—no, I just cannot do it.

She thinks it would be good, for her to have one lunch with him, to get him out of her system, Yeseul’s wisdom about not having lunch with someone who is technically her opponent in the court be damned. She just needs to have lunch with him once, and then she can stop feeling this way.

The restaurant is small, but bright light filters in through the large windows as they take a seat at one of the empty tables. There are a lot of them, she thinks, looking around, just after the lunchtime rush, or the restaurant wasn’t a very good one. Either way, she was supposed to be having a meal with Han Joon-Hwi right now, and as Sol takes a seat, she realises she had been vastly unprepared for this meeting.

He doesn’t look like the Joon she knew back in Hankuk, that is certain, but he doesn’t look like what her imagination had unhelpfully supplied her with either. He looks every inch the prosecutor, with dark circles underneath his eyes and that slouching posture she supposes every prosecutor has, as though he had been carrying the weight of the whole world. It’s sad, somehow.

“Are you going to order?”

“Hm?” She turns her gaze, and sure enough, he’s looking at her just like he had done all those years ago, when she had a stupid letter attached to her name like a real-life suffix that followed one around, and he used to lean over tables and grin all up in her face and mock her by saying Sunbae. It’s—uncomfortable. She didn’t think she would revert to her university self so easily, but with him, it feels like second nature, “You said Pyongyang naengmyeon, so we should get Pyongyang naengmyeon.”

“All right,” he teases, but it’s light, the kind of tone one would use with a co-worker, which strikes her as somehow offensive (am I not more important than a co-worker?) and she spots a glint of something else in his eyes, but shakes her head free of the thought, just as he says, “so, how is work?”

She rolls her eyes, “I don’t think you asked me to lunch after all these years just to talk to me about work, Han Joon-Hwi.”

He smiles, “right, I didn’t, two orders of beef bone soup, please.”

She stares at him, “it’s summer,” and turns back to the ahjumma, “two orders of Pyongyang naengmyeon, please.”

He just shakes his head, looking at her in that funny way, and asks, “so, do you remember, or do you not?”

What is he even asking me about? “No, I don’t,” she replies, pouring out water for the both of them, “what are you even talking about?”

He shakes his head at her again, “never mind. Let’s eat.”

She can’t help but feel as though she had just missed something important, at least by the look on his face. Or maybe that’s the naengmyeon talking.

#solhwi #solhwi fanfic #jtbc law school #han joon hwi #kang sol a

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years ago

Text

General Hux x Female Reader/Ben Solo x Female Reader

A/N: This is a heavy chapter, Hux is just not coping 🥺

Warnings: lots of feelings and angst, implied suicidal thoughts

Word Count: 4411

Read Chapter 21 here on AO3

Masterlist

The day your husband woke up will never leave you. His body seemed to come to life before your very eyes, choking on his tubes, arms flailing against the wires as he tried to get his bearings. It wasn’t until you grabbed his face making him look at you, his beautiful green eyes dull and sunken but something sparked in them when he saw you. Hearing your voice calmed him and he lay back down, his eyes fluttering with sudden exhaustion and sinking back into sleep. You refused to leave him, not caring or paying attention to anything else on the base so much so that Poe dragged in a cot for you to sleep in. Rose and Finn would come in, bringing food and sometimes they’d stay and keep you company but everyone was so busy adjusting to a new way of life and making room for all the people that were now residing on Ajan Kloss.

Mitaka was the person you saw the most, he had recovered from his surgery and he told you how he had saved Armitage after he was shot, immersing him in the strongest solution of bacta he could find and moving him over to the Finalizer. He had then turned the ship against the Final Order, taking significant damage and finally arriving here only to plough the dead ship into the surface of the planet. Most of the time he just sat with you watching over Armitage like a silent guardian.

You were taking one very rare break from being at your husband's side, feeling the sun on your face and the breeze in your freshly washed hair. You felt the tightening of your belly but wearing the light clothing that had been given to you meant you could hide the changing shape of your body for a bit longer. You heard a noise, slowly opening your eyes you saw Kylo approaching. He looked different, the scar that you had traced so many times with your eyes was gone and he looked similar to when you had first met him, except now he was dressed like you. A shirt, leather trousers and boots, his hair was longer than you remember and his expression was softer, sadder even. He stopped a few large paces away, his eyes locking with yours when he saw you watching him.

“I heard what you did,” you said, turning back to bask in the light of the sun.

“I remembered what you asked me, how you asked if this war was over soon.” You dipped your head and scuffed your boot along the floor.

“What of it?” You asked.

“I remembered the desperation on your face and that’s what drove me to end this.” You let out a soft laugh.

“Don’t fool yourself.”

“It’s true!” He exclaimed, stepping towards you but you turned your angry gaze to him making him stop once more.

“You could have ended it at any time!”

“No! Not after he, him, Palpatine made himself known, if I had stepped down and disintegrated the First Order he would have swept in unchallenged and taken over the Galaxy yet again!” His expression was pleading as he tried to get you to see. “I had to wait, I saw the opportunity after Rey died and I took it. I had a choice and I hope I made the right one.”

“I guess we will see,” you replied, beginning to make your way back.

“How is Armitage?” He called after you but you didn’t stop.

“Like you care,” you shot over your shoulder suddenly wanting to be a million parsecs from him.

Hux’s recovery was slow but most of that was because he refused to talk, he would eat and drink and even walk around, using you to lean on but he would not talk. It frustrated you, making you grind your teeth in annoyance whenever you asked him a question and he stared into empty space like you weren’t even there. He got stronger but his nightmares got worse, his entire body would shake, sweat would drench his bright hair and he would yell so loudly. It ripped you to pieces seeing him so broken but refusing any sort of help. His body grew stronger by the day, no longer using you to balance himself and the walks you took lasted for up to half a day as though he couldn’t bring himself to return to the base.

You moved you both out of the medbay and into a hut, they were everywhere spreading far and wide to accommodate the people that now called this place home, the Resistance and First Order finally living in harmony. You felt a swell in your heart every time you looked at the encampment, a sadness that littered your soul when you realised the massive scar that now rendered the Galaxy. Many of these people didn’t know who their families were, where they came from. Some had nothing left and like you, nowhere to go. What had really been achieved except for the pain and suffering of all these people?

You sat up one morning, instantly noticing you were alone and panic slithered through you. You rushed out of your hut, barely pulling your boots on before you were charging into the jungle. Each pound of your heart matched the hurried rush of your feet and you retraced the paths you took with him everyday, but he wasn’t there. You tried to calm yourself but knowing how damaged he was inside you kept thinking the worst so you pushed yourself harder, struggling through the jungle only to happen upon the lake where the Finalizer still sat, dead and lifeless.

You nearly cried with relief when you saw him, his red hair a crowning glory in the early light of the day, his arms crossed as he stood like a statue surveying the broken remains of what used to be his home. You slowly approached, highly aware of how similar this was that rainy day on the estate.

“Are you just going to stand there My Lady?” You sucked in a breath, your eyes closing in relief at the sound of his voice, your heart beating with joy for the first in months.

“I do not mean to intrude,” you breathed hating the way your voice wavered with emotion.

“You’re not,” he replied but still he didn’t take his eyes off his ship.

“I’m so sorry Armitage,” you whispered.

“I should be the one apologising,” his face twisted with anguish and he turned away from the sight before him. “I’m sorry I ever married you and dragged you into this.”

“Please don’t say that!” It took you a moment to realise he wasn’t stopping and you hurried after him but he stayed just out of reach until you both got back to the hut. “Armitage!”

“You should just leave me, I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. I should stay here and face whatever punishment they deem fit.”

“This isn’t all on you, you can’t take responsibility for the entirety of this war!”

“Someone has to,” he muttered.

“It’s not your fault! I refuse to lose you again!” You almost screamed, making him look at you in surprise. Many emotions flitted over his face before he settled on that blank expression you knew so well.

“Why are you fighting so hard for this?” He asked dully.

“Why aren’t you fighting hard for this?” You cried back.

“You’re better off without me,” he shouted. His expression now one of distress as he ran a hand through his hair. “Everything is gone, everything I’ve worked for, fought for it’s all gone!” You went to reach for him but he pulled away from you, backing into the wall. “You don’t want me, you don’t need me. Just leave me alone!” Tears streamed down your face as his voice cracked, your heart was breaking from his words.

“You are worthy of love, Armitage.” He smirked and shook his head.

“How can you say that? How can you say that after what I did?”

“You didn’t have a choice,” he moved further away from you. Disgust lacing his features but you didn’t know if that was because of you or himself.

“Of course I had a choice. I could have gotten us out of there if I so wished.” His gaze rose to meet yours. “He got you out didn’t he? So why didn’t I?”

“Armitage please!” But he was beyond reason, lost in the hatred of his actions.

“You are better off without me, go to him, Kylo. He’ll look after you far better than I ever could.”

“Armitage, wait!” You followed him out of the hut, painfully aware that everyone in the vicinity was awake and listening to your conversation.

“No, nothing else you can say will change my mind…”

“I’m pregnant,” you blurred out loudly and you saw his back stiffen when he jolted to a stop, the few people you could see made shocked faces and disappeared into their huts. Finn and Rose paused to the side no doubt holding their breath as they watched the scene unfold before them. You wanted him to turn around, you wanted him to run to you, lifting you in the air with excitement but you knew he was going to be conflicted about this. Finally he did turn, his eyes on your hands as you twisted them nervously.

“Is it mine?” He asked stiffly. The question had you sobbing, you expected it, of course you did but you had hoped he wouldn't sound so indifferent about it.

“Y-yes.” He nodded before striding off. Words failed you, watching him leave you like this shattered your heart into pieces, littering the floor with your pain. You wanted to scream, to ask him to come back to face this with you but he was gone.

“C’mon sweetheart. He’ll be back.” Poe gently guided you back to your hut, you had no ideas where he had come from but you were grateful to him.

“How can you be sure?” You asked quietly, wiping your face.

“Well for one he’s got nowhere to go,” you glared at Poe through your tears but he at least had the sense to look ashamed at such a comment. “And two,” he continued. “For all his faults, Hugs is loyal to you. He’d never admit it to anyone, probably not even himself.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” you said softly.

“What’s that? I’m right? Yeah I’ll take it,” he smiled kindly at you. “I’ll go get some caf. I’ll be back ok?” You nodded, the smile leaving your face as soon as you were alone. You heard him talking to Finn and Rose, their voices trailing off as they walked away. You gently put a hand on your stomach, hoping Armitage came back soon. Poe came back and spent some time with you but you couldn’t follow the conversation, your eyes trained on the door waiting for Armitage to come back. Finally he made his excuses and left you alone, but it didn’t last long.

Your thoughts scattered when the door opened and you stood up, a flush creeping over your skin, a name on your lips but you couldn't utter it. Because it was the wrong man.

“You’re pregnant?” He asked incredulously.

“What do you want, Ben?” It still felt strange to call him that.

“I had no idea,” he rumbled.

“Yes you did. It’s why you saved me. Isn’t it?” He was too big for your space and you wanted him to sit down but you also didn’t want him to stay. “On the Finalizer, sending me to the Resistance you were giving me a chance with this baby.”

“I couldn't see you get killed!” He snarled curling his hands into fists. “I waited for Armitage to betray the First Order, his beliefs, to prove his love for you and he didn’t.”

“Because you would have killed him as soon as he put a foot wrong!” You hissed at him, trying to keep your voice low.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “I guess we will never know.”

“Please, leave me alone. He won’t come back if you’re in here.” You turned your back on him, hoping he’d get the message so you missed the crestfallen look on his face. The way his large hand went to reach for you but then he thought better of it and moved away.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” You turned to reply but he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.

You paced, watching night fall beyond the walls of your little space, the fauna coming to life in the darkness and you sighed, trying to hold back the storm of emotions that threatened to engulf you yet again. You just needed to know he was alright. Your legs tired and you finally lay down, closing your eyes but sleep didn’t come so you stared at the door, tracking the rough wood yet again until he came back.

You sat up on the bed as the door slowly opened. He stepped in, his boots dragging on the wooden floor with each step, he didn’t look at you and instead rested heavily against the closed door. The fire had died down and there was silence outside indicating everyone was asleep. He slid to the floor, resting his elbows on his knees and thumping his head gently back onto the door. He looked exhausted in the dim light, his clothes slightly muddy like he’d been out trekking, his hair was wind swept but still as vibrant as ever. You ached to hold him close, to breathe your love into him so he could feel it but you knew he’d probably reject it right now. He was hurting, still coming to terms with the loss of everything he thought was important. He was having to rebalance, finding out the world did not run on the need for power and dizzying heights of control took time getting over. Nevertheless, you slowly slid off the bed kneeling just a few paces away from him, your hands clasped neatly in your lap as you gazed at him with sorrow filled eyes. The need to speak was driving you crazy, words filled your mouth before filtering out into nothingness not making it past the barrier of your lips. His eyes were closed, a pained expression pulled on his face and for a moment you thought he’d fallen asleep against the door when he shifted. His eyes opened and you rushed him, pulling him into an embrace that for once he didn’t fight. Neither of you spoke, taking the time to breathe each other in, accepting the first moment of comfort you had taken from each other since he had woken up in the medbay. He was warm and firm in your arms, alive and breathing as he wrapped an arm loosely over your back.

“Come to bed,” you whispered. “Please?” He had been sleeping in a chair no matter how many times you had offered him the bed he had refused to take it, until now. He stood almost swaying as you led him over, making him sit down so you could remove his boots and muddy trousers before letting him slip under the covers. You went to move away to let him rest alone when his hand shot out and grabbed you.

“Stay?” He asked softly and you tried not to smile. He moved over as you got in, not sure if he wanted to be touched or not but that uncertainty was banished when he pulled you tightly into his embrace and for the first time in a long time you felt contentment.

You awoke early again, feeling refreshed after a deep sleep because Hux hadn’t had a nightmare. You slipped out from under his arm and got dressed in some fresh clothes casting one last look at him you smiled before heading off to get some breakfast.

Poe was up early, sorting through the fresh supplies that had been brought back on the Falcon last night.

“Morning sweetheart, you look better.”

“I feel better,” you responded. “The trip was successful then?”

“We need to do another, even with people leaving to find their own way through the Galaxy there are still some arriving here because they have nowhere else to go. This lot won’t last us that long,” he commented.

“But it will do for now, you should be proud, General. You have created a safe haven for those who would end up wandering lost.” Poe sighed and you placed a comforting hand on his arm. “You know I will help if you need me to.”

“You already have your hands full,” he replied quietly.

“I am hoping my news will help him sort his priorities.” Poe’s eyes lit up and he grinned.

“A little bit of good news amongst the stress, how are you feeling? Here take some extra food,” he offered you.

“Poe I can’t, you have so many people to feed…”

“Would you just take it?” He growled, forcing more pouches into your arms. “I’ve got bottles of water as well…” you waited patiently as he retrieved a little crate and you placed it all in there, activating the hover mechanism on it.

“Thank you Poe.”

“Go go, I’m so busy,” he said, smirking, giving you a wink and making you laugh.

“Alright I’ll leave you to the very tedious task of counting!”

“Yes, thank you!” He called after you, picking up his datapad.

You had a little bounce to your step as you made your way all the way back to your hut, opening the door and guiding the crate in, you didn’t see Armitage sitting up at first. You closed the door and turned to give him a smile but the scene before made your blood run like ice in your veins.

“Armitage?” He was sitting on the edge of the bed running a hand over a blaster. “Where did you get that?” You asked quietly, panic licking its way through your body as he looked up at you. He looked so lost, his eyes were red and his pale skin blotchy, his red hair had lost its fire looking lank and dull as it slanted over one eye, his stubble was more pronounced today showing that he hadn’t attempted to shave.

“I just took it.” Your heart began to beat loudly, your pulse roaring in your ears, you wanted to call out for anyone but you didn’t know how he was going to react.

“What do you want with it?” You asked in hushed tones. He tapped it into his hand and you saw the safety was off, the panic heightened, thrumming through your body until it felt like all your hairs were standing on end.

“I didn’t know at first,” his voice was gravelly and tired. “But then I realised this could be it,” his shoulders rose and fell with a shuddery breath. “The answer to everyone’s suffering.”

“No one is suffering anymore,” you crouched down, slowly resting on your knees so you were on his level. “The war is o-over Armitage.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m still fighting?” He snarled. To your surprise he stood, the blaster gripped tightly in his hands and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You were losing him.

You watched him pace in the small living area growing more agitated by the second, mumbling more to himself than you. “I am suffering, I feel so useless, there is nothing to aim for, not goals to achieve. No order, no control, nothing to strategise, no one to fight, I feel myself going crazy…” he stopped and looked down the barrel of the blaster. Your breath stilled, an ache bloomed in your chest as the seconds slowed to a crawl. Thoughts of getting up and knocking it from his hand flashed through your mind but you knew you’d be too late. “This is the only answer I’ve found,” his eyes dragged to you. His brows rose for a moment in an expression of sorrow as he took in your tear stricken face. “I’m taking responsibility….” No! You wanted to scream but the sound got lodged in your throat when his finger squeezed the trigger. You closed your eyes expecting a light, a bang, the sound of him falling to the floor, anything. But there was only silence.

Your eyes flew open at the sound of the door smashing into the wall and Ben came in, his chest heaving like he’d been running, his hand outstretched as he held Armitage in an invisible cage, he wrenched the blaster out of Hux’s frozen grip and tossed it out of the hut.

“What are you doing?” Growled Hux and his eyes blazed fiercely at the force user.

“I came to stop you,” Ben huffed, still catching his breath.

“How did you know?” You flinched as Ben pointed at you but his gaze was still locked on the ex-general.

“I could feel her heart, breaking from across the encampment.” A gasp left you as strong arms wrapped around your terrified form and Poe hauled you off the floor, also out of breath.

“I’m sorry sweetheart we came as fast as we could,” he breathed into your ear.

“Just let me go with dignity!” Hux glared at Ben as he snarled through gritted teeth.

“There is no dignity in this Armitage. You have someone who loves you, she wants you. Don’t throw that away, the chance of a life because the First Order no longer exists.”

“The First Order was my life! It was all I had!” Shouted Hux.

“And look what you have to replace it,” Ben snapped, gesturing at you clutched in Poe’s arms. “Don’t be a fool, don’t let your fathers ambitions rule even now. Because then it really all would have been for nothing. These people helping you would be for nothing.” Hux sagged to the floor with a grunt when Ben released him.

“Are you alright?” He asked angrily, turning his back to Hux. You nodded, shaking Poe off and rushing to your husband. You knelt next to his folded form, you wanted to reach out and touch him and you felt the frustration rise that you couldn’t touch him. Even though right now it was all he needed to remind himself he had you, he had reasons to live.

“You need to go. Now.”

“I’m not leaving you…” started Ben but you cut him off.

“Yes, you are. Go.” Poe tugged on the bigger man’s arm, his hazel eyes locked with yours for a moment before giving in and following the pilot outside. Your hands over your husbands shaking form but frustration made you move. Using all your might you pulled at him, making him sit up.

“Armitage!” You grabbed his face making him focus on you. His entire being quivering with pent up emotions ready to be released, his green eyes blown wide but they looked at you as he tried to keep himself together. “They’re gone, you can let go.” He sagged with relief against you, his face crumbling and you hugged him close as he buried his face into your shoulder.

“I can’t look at their faces anymore,” he whimpered. “All I see is what I’ve done, over and over again written in their eyes, in the words they say, how they act…all I see is the hurt that’s been caused, all because of me.” You held him close as he silently sobbed into you, giving him the outlet he needed without a word.

“It’s not you, this doesn’t fall on you.” You shrugged him off your shoulder, making him focus on your face. “Promise me, promise me you won’t pull that shit again!” Your profanity made him raise his eyebrows in surprise even through the storm of his emotions. “I need you, we need you,” you stressed softly. “Armitage please,” you rested your forehead against his pulling him close to you. “You are loved and needed and I will say it until you believe it.”

“What if I never believe it?” He whispered.

“We’re family. I know you’re not used to that, you feel alone, I feel alone! Our home is gone, all I have is you. And I can’t…..I can’t lose that. Please don’t make me!” You covered your face with both hands trying to stifle the sobs that shook your body. The feeling of utter hopelessness wrapped it’s fateful arms around you dragging you down into the dark abyss you’d been holding at bay for so long. You wanted to ask him why he wasn’t letting you in, to let you help him but you knew it was pointless. You went to get up, to move away or leave, just to distance yourself but your eyes flew open when you felt his fingers curl around your wet hands. He pulled them down from your face, his gaze searching yours, his expression sad as his mouth opened.

“You are my home,” he whispered.

“Armitage…”

“You want me to talk, I’m talking.” You hiccuped a breath at his firm tone, an echo of the man he used to be finally shining through, but he was right. You’d spent all the time trying to get him to open up. You should listen to him now. He reached for your cheek, his long fingers gently wiping your tears away. “Starkiller, The Finalizer, Arkanis, none of them ever felt like home after I met you. Took me so long to see it,” he murmured. “To see how you helped me face myself and now,” his gaze flicked down to your stomach. “Now you are making me see something I never thought I’d see. How can I be a parent?” You saw the uncertainty in his gaze, the way his brows tried to pull down for a moment. “What if…what if I….become like him?”

“You could never!” You reached for him, bringing him closer until his forehead pressed into yours. “I know you’re scared, don’t make that face, you are allowed to be. I am. I’m scared.” You bit your lip as you chose your next words. “It feels easier to walk away but it’s not,” you said firmly, threading your hands into his hair. “If we face this together we can do it, Armitage. We can get each other through this.”

#general hux x female reader #armitage hux x female reader #echoes of the heart #general hux x you #general hux x reader #armitage hux x you #armitage hux x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #my writing #mylifeisactuallyamess #cw: suicidal thoughts

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professorsnape394 · 4 years ago

Text

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Seventeen: Heart or Head?

A/N: This is the seventeenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-17 can also be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below or send me a message if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 1756

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

"Severus. Aria. May I speak with you both?" Dumbledore requested the next morning after breakfast.

The two professors exchanged an awkward glance, rising from either ends of the headmaster, unsure of the old wizard's intentions.

The hall bustled with noise, students and teachers alike eager to escape the great hall, enjoying their last day of freedom before yet another week begun.

The trio remained behind, exchanging not a word nor glance, until Dumbledore spoke once more.

"I assume you know what this is about." Albus questioned, his eyes travelling between the pair suspiciously.

Unable to force their eyes to meet the headmaster's, both Severus and Aria's minds began to race. Each of them suspecting that the other had divulged unto him the events of last night.

"I'm afraid not, Headmaster. Care to enlighten us?" Severus finally found the courage to say.

"As I am sure you were both made aware this morning at breakfast, Professor Karkaroff has found himself in a rather unfortunate state." Dumbledore explained, his eyes still surveying their faces through the top of his glasses.

Aria let out a huge sigh of relief, glad that Snape had not humiliated her further. Severus too was more than thankful his employer remained unaware that he had both seduced and rejected his beloved granddaughter in the early hours of the morning.

"What does that have to do with us, Grandfather?" Aria asked innocently, knowing fine well who was responsible for the wound.

"Nothing, as for as I'm aware." Dumbledore hummed. "There is no concrete evidence of what happened to Igor has anything to do with the two of you. However, given that the two of you, along with Professor Karkaroff were significantly late to breakfast, and given the state in which the two of you look, I have my suspicions."

"And what reason would either Miss Dumbledore or myself have for harming the man in question?" Severus retorted. "And surely you must be aware that I, as I always am on October 31st, was in my office until the small hours of this morning. I cannot, however, speak for your granddaughter's whereabouts, and why she looks so uncharacteristically dishevelled this morning."

The potions master glared at his apprentice out the side of his eye. It was the first he had dared to look at her all morning. Her face was bare; clearly she had made no effort to apply a face of makeup this morning, but a slight trace of eyeliner and mascara was still visible around her tired puffy eyes. She had hastily scraped her hair back into a tight ponytail, a half-hearted attempt to salvage her borderline greasy hair. Admittedly it was the worst he had saw her look since their meeting, but even then he could still appreciate her true beauty. Once again Severus Snape found himself getting lost in the woman's features, enchanted by her mere presence.

"The party." She blurted uncontrollably, upon noticing her mentor staring. "The Halloween party, it went on very late. I apologise, I should have been more responsible." She turned to the headmaster.

"Very well. I believe the two of you have very solid alibis, therefore I have no reason to suspect you any longer. As of now Igor is yet to come forward about the incident, so until he does, that is if he does, the two of you are... what's the phrase? 'Off the hook'." Albus said, raising an eyebrow, throwing his hands in the air.

Sensing that the pair were very eager to leave, Dumbledore took his chance to stop them once more.

"I would, however, like to make it known that Igor Karkaroff, along with the rest of Durmstrang school are here as our guests and should be treated with the utmost respect by Hogwarts students and Professors alike. However first and foremost, Aria, you are my granddaughter. And if a problem had to occur, that deserves appropriate repercussions, I should hope that any of my professors would be able to confide in me. And the issue would be dealt with by me, and me only. That being said; is there anything you would like to tell me, my dear granddaughter?"

She remained silent. Her eyes once again falling to the floor.

"And you Severus? You have never lied to me before. Is there anything you have to say on the matter?"

Snape paused for a moment in deliberation, remembering the promise he had once made to obey his employer entirely.

"Like I said. I was in my office all night." He lied, never once looking away, breaking his gaze.

The headmaster looked between the pair, disappointed and frustrated.

"You may go." He sighed.

Taking off in the blink of an eye Professor Snape disappeared from the great hall, his assistant following not far behind.

"Severus, wait." The young professor called out, trying to rush her way past the small clusters of students that filled the halls.

The potions master slowly came to a halt, clearly unsure whether he wanted to hear what she inevitably had to say.

"I want to talk about last night." She confessed, lowering her voice as she caught up with the potions master.

In three large strides Severus Snape turned to the woman, grabbing onto her forearm and walking her backwards into the hard castle wall. It was obvious he was paranoid of anyone, student or staff, overhearing what she was about to say regarding the events of the previous night.

Taken aback by his sudden movements Aria took a moment to catch her breath. Meanwhile Snape had gathered his thoughts on the matter.

"I am unsure of what you are referring to Miss Dumbledore, but as far as the staff are aware we never crossed paths last night, and I would like to keep it that way. Forget about whatever you want to say, anything that may or may not have happened is now considered null and void. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

Almost instantly Aria found herself becoming defensive in the face of the Professor's aggression. She had come to him with heartfelt intentions, but she'd be damned if she allowed another man to walk all over her again. She was quickly tiring of Severus' yo-yoing insight on their friendship.

"Do not tell me what I can and cannot say, Professor." Aria said, ripping her arm from her colleague's grasp. "However much you'd like to erase the of memory of the two of us, at this moment in time it remains a reality, and I have something to say on the matter. I will not let you silence me for nothing but your own benefit."

"Very well." Snape huffed, slightly impressed that she had stood up to him. "Say what you have to say, if you must, but be quick about it, I would like to enjoy the last day of the weekend without you pestering me for once."

"I wanted to apologise." The witch admitted, raising her head to lock eyes with her mentor.

Snape cocked an eyebrow curiously, silently permitting her to go on.

"I want to apologise for... for try to take things a bit too far last night. I shouldn't have expected you to... well, you know." She shrugged, eyes darting below Snape's belt.

"There is no need for an apology, Miss Dumbledore. After all, it was I who initiated the whole... situation. Like I said, I would prefer if it could be forgotten about to entirely."

"But Severus I- "

Snape held up a palm, signalling for her to stop.

"It was a mistake." He insisted. "You were drunk, Aria, and I took advantage, it was wrong of me. Besides, you're in a relationship, and I would very much appreciate if I were to remain entirely uninvolved in any of your possible drama."

Aria's multiple attempts at interrupting went unsuccessful. Snape was adamant that he wanted to forget the whole thing, therefore it was clear to Aria any attempt at convincing him otherwise would be futile. Sensing the finality in his tone Miss Dumbledore took a step away from him, letting him go.

"Just one last thing." She blurted, causing Severus to pause halfway down the corridor. "We broke up. Just, if that means anything to you."

Aria waited hopefully for him to turn back to face her, but he never did. It was clear he had heard her but had chose not to acknowledge her words as he disappeared into the labyrinth that is Hogwarts.

Once again Severus Snape found himself consumed in thoughts of his assistant. Ever since his lips touched hers he couldn't get his mind off of her. With no idea what had come over him to make a move, he was sure she would reject him. But when he found that no only had she returned his kiss, but was willing to go further, panic set in.

He wanted nothing more than to let her do it. To just let her hands wander freely over his naked body, allowing him to do the same to her. He could have had her right there in his office if he wanted, but he was scared. Scared that he was right about what he said all those weeks ago in the Three Broomsticks, or scared that she would change her mind all together, but mostly he was scared that after it all, if she did actually go through with it that is, she still had a boyfriend and he would inevitably be tossed aside, forgotten and rejected all at once.

So, he convinced her, and himself, that it had all been one drunken mistake, and that it meant nothing to him. He refused to let her think for one second that he feelings of any kind for her. He would not allow himself to be humiliated by her of all people.

It would all have gone just as he had planned if Aria hadn't said those few words. 'We broke up'. Why did she tell him that? What difference did it make to him? Was she trying to get in his head? Or was she trying to tell him exactly what he wanted to hear?

Deliberating over the meaning of her confession kept the potions master preoccupied all day. In his heart he wanted to believe that she felt just as he did. But his head told him no one would ever be able to love a beast like him.

Soon enough all of Snape's uncertainty was to be put to rest by a single knock at the door.

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel

@lizlil

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