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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 4 years ago

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Sleeping With The Enemy II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Part 3 of 3

Summary: Being a Slytherin yourself doesn’t make you hate Malfoy any less. So why can’t you stop fantasizing about him? (18+)

PART 1 PART 2

A/N: I’m thinking of combining this concept with another series that I’m planning rn because I had so much fun writing this mini series! I hope you guys like the ending! Thank you so much for your support! <3

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!Reader, Words: 3.2k Warnings: post-war Hogwarts, smut, swearing, oral sex (male receiving)

Once again, an image was stuck in your mind.

This time however, it was way worse than your ex and Pansy. It was of Draco Malfoy and Pansy. Of his hips thrusting into her; of her legs wrapped around his waist, accompanied by the sound, sweaty bodies slapping against each other. It haunted you whenever you closed your eyes, it followed you into your dreams that night. You still couldn’t believe that happened to you. Twice in one week.

At breakfast you could barely look at them. You sat at the far end of the table, next to Millicent, keeping your head down. In your first period, it was the same. You were glad they were both seated behind you. Well, until Professor Slughorn decided to pair you into groups. He chose Malfoy as your partner.

What a huge surprise.

Of fucking course.

“Did you sleep well last night?”, Malfoy asked nonchalantly while reading the instructions.

You almost dropped the glass of snails. “Exceptionally well,” you then said and cleared your throat. You didn’t have to look at Malfoy to know that he was smirking. Clenching your teeth, you continued working in silence.

Malfoy spoke again after a few moments. “Never would have thought you’d be into something like that.” He walked past you to grab a bottle with snake blood from the other side of the table. When he did that, his arms brushed your side. You hated yourself for the shiver that ran down your spine.

“Something like what?”, you asked innocently. “The smell of honey?” You gestured towards the cauldron where a pink liquid bubbled, smelling like honey and wildflowers. The potion could let the person who drinks from it forget anything they want. How fitting, you thought. Exactly what you needed right now. It was also extremely toxic when given too much.

“Watching.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks. “Don’t, Malfoy.” You kept your eyes on the liquid. “If I didn’t know it’d kill me, I’d stick my head into the cauldron right now to erase the memory from my mind. So can we please just … forget it. Please?”

“Begging suits you.”

You groaned. “Fucking hell, Malfoy.” Everything seemed to be a joke to him.

The blonde Slytherin chuckled at your reaction and for the first time since you started working together, you looked at him. His stormy eyes sparkled with mischief and he lowered his voice when he continued: “I don’t want to forget about it.”

Me either. You stared at him.

“Ms. Y/L/N, Mr. Malfoy, are you making progress?”, the voice of your Professor made you flinch. Slughorn had appeared next to you, looking curiously into the cauldron.

“We’re almost there, Sir,” Malfoy replied and your cheeks burned. “Almost there.”

***

The remaining lessons of the day followed the same plot - you sat far away from Malfoy and Pansy and avoided eye contact at all costs. It worked perfectly - until your eyes accidentally wandered over to his table.

He wasn’t writing. His quill layed loosely in his hand and his gaze was fixated on you. Only then you realized what you did -

You bite down on your lip when you concentrate or listen to the professors, Malfoy had said during that faithful night where you first talked, combine that with your skirt riding up your thighs and …

You crossed your legs, causing your skirt to ride up even higher. Malfoy shifted in his seat. When you felt the soft tingling in your stomach, you turned your head away.

***

“Theo, if you don’t stop eyefucking that Hufflepuff right now, you’re gonna sit on the bench and watch today. I am not losing against Gryffindor - again,” Blaise looked at the Chaser with narrowed eyes.

Your team members chuckled and Theo only rolled his eyes at Blaise - however not before winking at the 6th year Hufflepuff who gave him a little wave in response as she walked towards the stairs.

You stood outside the Slytherin locker rooms, all dressed in your quidditch uniforms. Today was the second game of the season and your team captain was dead set on winning it.

“Maybe Y/N should sit on the bench today, Blaise,” Malfoy suggested. “I heard she’s good at watching.”

You clenched your jaw. “Then you probably also heard that I’m even better at kicking your ass.”

“Please,” he raised one eyebrow. “I want to see you try.”

“Alright, whatever this is, stop it.” Blaise sighed. Apparently, the whole team seemed a little distracted today. “This is the second game of this year but it’ll also be the first game we win. So, pull yourselves together and make the Gryffindors regret the day they were born.”

You lost the game.

It was embarrassing, really. In the history of Quidditch, not once did Slytherin loose this high to the Gryffindors. When you walked off the field afterwards, heads hanging and accompanied by the laughter and songs of the Gryffindors, Blaise was fuming. It came to no surprise to you that he ordered you and Malfoy inside the boys locker room, after everyone had left.

“Both of you - in here,” he demanded in a sharp tone. Draco returned from the far end of the room while buttoning his shirt. You leaned against the doorframe, annoyed and frankly tired. A lecture from your team captain was the last thing you needed right now, considering you’d get one at the next training session anyways. Blaise looked back and forth between you and Malfoy before announcing: “Get your shit together?”

You raised your eyebrows. “What?”

“We all get it, you hate each other,” Blaise began. Malfoy snorted. “But if you let this affect our Quidditch games I have no choice but to …”

“To what?”, the blond one asked.

“Kick you off the team.”

Your eyes widened and you straightened up, taking a step inside. “So, Malfoy is the one who keeps making inappropriate comments and I’m the one who gets kicked off the team?!” You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Are you for real, Blaise?”

He looked at you calmly. “You are distracted.”

“Because he distracts me.” You gestured at Malfoy who rolled his eyes.

“During the last training sessions, you didn’t focus and kept your eyes on him instead of the Quaffel. Didn’t matter whether or not Draco said something beforehand,” Blaise said. “So, to answer your question - yes, I’m for real.”

You swallowed. You were speechless (and a little embarrassed). You opened your mouth but then closed it again.

“Don’t, Draco,” Blaise shot his friend an annoyed glance. You quickly noticed why - Malfoy watched you, amused. He obviously held back a grin. When Blaise confronted him, he gave a dismissive wave. “Give it a rest, Zabini.”

“No, I won’t,” Blaise scoffed, “stop trying to get her attention unless it’s Quidditch related. It’s annoying and I won’t allow it in my team.” He looked back and forth between you again. “Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Malfoys voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Yes.” You nodded, anger still burning inside of you. Blaise nodded, not content but slightly less mad, and left. You decided to find him later and talk a little sense into him.

It was quiet for a while.

“Should have fucked him when you had the chance.” Apparently Malfoy was incapable of keeping his thoughts to himself - no matter how stupid they were.

“Oh, when will you ever shut up?!”, you sneered at him. “I can’t believe you almost got me kicked out of the team!”

“It’s not my fault you can’t keep your eyes off me.”

“Right,” you laughed bitterly. “Oh, don’t give me that look. You stare at me, you make inappropriate -”

“Stop saying I’m the one who’s inappropriate when you literally watched me fuck your best friend last night.”

This managed to shut you up. You gasped at his words and then the image appeared in front of your eyes again. His hair that was still messy from the shower resembled his hair from last night after Pansy had tugged on it and run her fingers through it.

“Did you know we’d meet there?”, Draco continued. “Did Pansy tell you?”

“Of course not!”, you exclaimed, “What’s wrong with you!”

“What’s wrong with you for not leaving?” Malfoy walked towards you until only a few steps separated you.

“You would have caught me!”

“I caught you anyways.”

“I’m sorry,” the apology left your mouth before you could think about it.

You saw a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “For what?”

“I should have left.”

Malfoy looked at you. He was so close. So awfully close that you could smell his spearmint shampoo. And there was something else … something beneath that fresh scent. He smelled like sex. You smelt it before, you realized. But this time … this time it was because of you.

“Why didn’t you?”, Draco finally asked in a low voice.

“I couldn’t.” You were trapped in his gaze.

“Why?” He moved his hands slightly and they brushed against yours. Your breath shuddered.

“Because I keep thinking about -”, you trailed off.

“About what?”

“What you said that night.” The words were barely a whisper. You were scared he might have not understood you, unsure about whether or not you could repeat them.

“Do you want me to turn it into a reality?”

Your heart began to pump faster in your chest, you were scared it might jump out of it. The second the question left his mouth, you knew the answer to it. Your body knew the answer to it. The way, the hair on your arms and neck stood up, told you.

It would be like an itch. You would scratch it once (maybe twice) and then it would be gone. Forgotten. You could go back to hating him and finally start grieving your lost relationship. Your breathing hitched when he tilted his head and his eyes dropped to your lips.

“Yes,” you said.

Your lips collided and the world stood still.

You felt his hands on your hips immediately, pulling you closer to him, as his lips worked tirelessly against yours. When they parted, his tongue slipped into your mouth and it swallowed the soft moan. Before the war, before he became a Death Eater, there were rumours floating through Hogwarts passed by giggling girls and jealous boys. How many times did you hear Pansy swoon over the way he kisses, the way his lips taste against hers? Countless times. And yet, nothing could have prepared you for this.

He was leading and it came to no surprise to you. You lost yourself in him, all the doubts and anger and embarrassment from the past days faded away, and all that was left were his lips against yours. His hands found your hair, tugging on it sharply to expose your neck. You whined when he traveled down to kiss the sensitive skin on there.

“Fuck,” you whispered as he sucked on the skin before abruptly pushing him away.

Draco looked up, visibly confused. You smirked, your hand still on his chest, as he walked backwards until he felt the bench against the back of his legs. You pushed him down and straddled him, your skirt riding up your thigh. When you let your hips roll against him, you heard it again - the same low moan from the night before. It resonated within you, causing you to press yourself tighter against him and deepen the kiss. You felt his erection and an ache began to grow inside of you. Just feeling it like this … you could imagine how big he truly must be. You wanted, no, you needed to see it, feel it, taste it.

His hands searched for the hem of your skirt and you felt his fingers trailing up your thigh. “Not yet,” you whispered and playfully pushed them away. Keeping your eyes locked, you slid down his lap and in between his legs. A smirk spread to his lips as you unzipped his pants.

His cock sprung free, fully erect and dripping. You gulped at the sight, your panties dampening. You reached for his shaft and Draco let out a sharp hiss when you gave it a few good, hard strokes. His breathing became ragged and when the look in his eyes darkened, you leaned forward and licked over the length of his cock. Your tongue circled over the top and you moaned when you tasted the salty precum.

“Tease,” Draco mumbled and you chuckled.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” you whispered in response.

“I want you to take my cock in your mouth,” he said, “take it like the - ah, fuck!”

Your mouth closed around his shaft and he let his head fall back. His eyes fluttered shut as you began to bop your head up and down. You couldn’t take him all in so your hand pumped him in the same rhythm as you sucked him off. Moans and curses escaped his lips. “I knew there was a reason why I wanted to fuck you all this time.”

You moaned around him, the familiar ache growing stronger and stronger inside of you. It was the same sensation you had felt the night prior. But now you weren’t forced to stand aside while he fucked another girl - now you were the one making him tremble. Draco’s hand found your hair, guiding you.

You gagged when his cock hit the back of your throat and he cursed. “Good girl,” he was out of breath, “sucking my dick like the good little slut you are …”

You looked up at him through your lashes - and you thought he looked beautiful the night before? Well, this was truly a sight for the gods. Seeing him staring down at you, his blonde hair hanging down messily, his eyes dark with lust - if your panties weren’t completely soaked before, they sure as hell were now.

You sensed that he was close. His legs started to tremble, he tightened the grip in your hair, and then he abruptly pulled you up. If you had it your way, he would come inside of your mouth. You wanted nothing more than for him to release himself inside of you as he fucked your mouth. Draco had different plans.

He got up, his clothes falling to the ground quickly, and pushed you against the locker room wall. You licked over your lips before his mouth claimed yours again in a hungry kiss. He ripped at your blouse, buttons clattering on the ground. His hands explored your body, grabbing and squeezing and then he finally, finally, slipped underneath your skirt and panties. You moaned loudly when his fingers teasingly stroked over your wet folds.

“Oh, you’re soaked, darling,” he chuckled cockily.

“Shut up and touch me already,” you shot back.

“Your wish is my command.” You felt the smile against your skin and then pleasure exploded inside of you. His fingers circled over your clit, stroking, teasing, flicking over the sensitive skin and your moans turned into whimpers and pleads and begs. With every movement of his hand did he push you closer to the edge. You were so close, so fucking close - Draco stopped.

Your eyes flew open in anger but then you felt him pressing against your entrance. He looked at you, his grey eyes searching for something in yours - you nodded. The simple sign of consent wasn’t enough.

“Ask for it,” he growled.

You snorted. “What?”

His thumb flicked over your clit once more and you moaned. “Shit,” you managed to get out breathlessly. “Oh, fuck me, Malfoy!”

His cock pressed against you. You would just have to buckle your hip and he would slip inside of you. “I said,” his hot breath sent shivers down your spine, “ask for it and say my name!”

You whimpered. “Please, Draco, please will you fuck me? I need you.”

He thrusted into you in one swift movement. Your walls stretched around him and it was almost too much. The pleasure almost bordered on pain, but gods, if this wasn’t the most delicious pain you had ever felt in your life. He gave you only a little time to adjust before he started pounding into you.

“You have no idea what you did to me last night,” he whispered in between sloppy kisses. “When I saw you …”

“It was so fucking hot,” you said, another loud moan escaping your mouth as he sped up. For a second you were scared someone might hear you and come in but the thought got chased away when Draco groaned in your ear.

“I forgot all about her, I only thought about fucking you. The look in your eyes … let me see them …”

His hips stuttered when your eyes met. Your body arched against him when he shifted, hitting that sweet spot from a different position. You didn’t think it was possible for you to become even wetter but slick juices ran down your leg. “I thought about you tonight,” you whimpered, “touching me … taking me …”

It was true. When Draco and Pansy had left the Astronomy Tower and you were up there all alone, a moment of weakness overcame you. The pleasure inside of you had grown too strong and in the haze of the aftermath, your body craved release. You came silently, the image of his grey eyes staring at you still in your mind. Shame had followed quickly. Shame and embarrassment by what you did.

“Fuck,” Draco groaned before he loses all control. There was nothing sweet or slow about his thrusts anymore - he fucked you violently, took you as he pleased. His hands gripped you so tightly, you knew it would leave bruises but the sharp pain was drowned out by the pleasure. It built and built inside of you; your legs started shaking and then you heard him calling out your name before the orgasmn rolled over you like a wave. You held onto him desperately, cursing loudly as you came all over his cock. Draco followed shortly after, pounding into you, moans escaping his throat, until he finally released himself. Warmth spread inside of you and you shuddered.

Your breath trembled as you rode out the last waves of the orgasm. When Draco pulled out of you, the sudden emptiness allowed a last, short whimper to escape your mouth. He lowered you to the ground carefully, before sitting down next to you.

You leaned against the wall with your eyes closed. When your breathing calmed down you turned your head towards him. He looked at you, his chest rising and falling steadily.

“I understand the hype now,” you said after a few more moments.

He raised an eyebrow. “The hype?”

“Around you,” you make a vague gesture in his direction. “I understand now.”

Draco snorted. “I’m flattered,” he said dryly. “But this wasn’t my best work.”

“It wasn’t?”

He shook his head.

“Then what is?”, you asked curiously.

“Get under the shower and I show you.”

***

HP Masterlist

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#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco malfoy smut #astrids fics

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sadclearance · 4 years ago

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right hand

pairing: katsuki bakugo x male!reader

summary: 5 things bakugo uses his right hand for + 1 thing bakugo uses his left hand for *wrote with “left hand” being in mind as a prequel, but can also be read as a standalone

category: fluff

warning(s): none

word count: 1500

key:

s/t - skin tone

when they were in high school, midoriya izuku noticed that bakugo katsuki--his childhood friend and bully--always started fights with a right hook.

which was incredibly powerful, albeit predictable.

midoriya still remembers a specific sunny morning in their third year when this expected yet efficient move was used for something that wasn't exactly a fight. a second year had made the unbelievably stupid mistake of--

"watch it, dumbass!"

and immediately after bakugo caught y/n before he could fall on his ass, bakugo's right fist met with the second year's nose, successfully breaking it and scorching off the hairs of the kid's eyebrows.

at the time, nobody really thought anything of it. bakugo was protective of the few people that he considered--but would never outright admit--to be his friends, and y/n was one of them.

ii.

but it was at the christmas social event that was held for the third years to get a chance to make connections as well as have fun before the end of their student years that it became clear that it was much much more than just friends looking out for each other.

"what're you doing all alone?" kaminari asked as he leaned against the wall next to y/n.

"everyone's either flirting with pro heroes or kissing their asses, and i'm not really in the mood to do either."

"yeah, i can see that," kaminari snickered as mineta got slapped in the face by mount lady after both a series of terrible flirting and a horrendous attempt to literally kiss her ass.

"surprised you're not doing the same."

"well..." kaminari said as he pointed up. he was wearing a hat with a hanging mistletoe.

"how not unexpected," y/n laughed.

"you know the tradition," kaminari winked pointing at his lips.

"okay, okay. for the holiday spirit--"

and as y/n leaned in to give kaminari a peck, a strong right hand grabbed his chin, and his lips met with a pair that belonged to someone else.

kaminari was too shocked to be disappointed after being pushed away by none other than bakugo.

"fuck off, dunce face," bakugo said before crashing his lips against y/n's.

that was one hell of a way to find out that two of his best friends were dating.

iii.

bakugo's jealousy only got worse after graduation.

but to be fair, that was his own fault.

he may have chilled out since their time together as first years, but he was still a headstrong ambitious hero.

they didn't go public with their relationship because bakugo figured it would be distracting to his goal.

which was a decision that he immediately regretted when he remembered just how attractive y/n was--something that other people clearly appreciated as well.

y/n got gifts, compliments, and very suggestive comments wherever he went, which did nothing but fuel bakugo's anger and displeasure.

there was a solution to this problem, and it was to let it be known to the world that y/n was his and his only.

instead of doing what normal couples do and going to an interviewer or announcing their relationship on his social media accounts, bakugo decided to--

"so... y/n," the barista looked at the name she just wrote on the cup and then back to y/n. "are you seeing anybody?"

"what's taking so fucking long?" bakugo asked as he came up behind y/n, right hand harshly meeting y/n's left ass cheek.

"ow! what the hell? there's paparazzi right outside of the window," y/n scolded, gesturing toward the crowd of people with cameras on the other side of the glass wall.

bakugo's only response was to press a kiss against y/n's lips, smirking into it as he saw a flash of light in the corner of his eye, fully aware of the fact that his hand was still on y/n's ass.

iv.

when he saw a building crumbling on top of y/n, he knew what he had to do.

he had faced a similar obstacle to this in his first year of high school, when he was up against round face--ochako. she had collected rubble that he had unknowingly provided and gathered it all up to the sky, later using it as a weapon by making it rain down on bakugo.

a building, however, had much more stone than a collection of collateral concrete that an individual collected over only a few minutes.

"y/n!" he shouted.

recreating the move from his first year, he raised his right hand and released a massive explosion--one much larger than the original maneuver.

he had succeeded for the most part. small bits of rubble rained down on them, but it was more like getting hit by hail than being buried by a boulder.

"bakugo!"

the mentioned man gritted his teeth and pressed the rough fingers of his left hand into his terribly cramped and pained right hand.

"you overdid it, you idiot!"

y/n rushed to get medical attention, and bakugo reluctantly let himself be pulled around.

he would've crudely yelled back that he didn't need help, but the worried look on y/n's face stopped him.

"i'm not gonna die, dumbass," bakugo rolled his eyes. the words were intended to come off harsher, and more like bakugo insulting a subordinate for not being able to see the obvious, but they came out closer to a soft reassurance instead.

"do that again, and i'll kill you myself," y/n glared. he looked more like an angry puppy.

"as if you could even land a hit on m--"

y/n's lips shut him up.

"even though that was the stupidest thing i've ever seen, thank you for saving me," y/n smiled, rubbing soft circles into bakugo's right hand.

"'stupidest thing you've ever seen'..." bakugo grumbled.

"what the fuck are you doing?"

it's been a habit to hold hands while doing almost anything since their time together at u.a.

hell, they used to hold hands throughout basically all of high school except during hero training.

subjects like math, language, history--they didn't require both hands. they only needed to write on a piece of paper, and they only needed their dominant hands for that.

so it comes as no surprise that that habit followed them to their pro hero years, pale left hand entwined with s/t right hand as they finish their paperwork.

bakugo's confusion was prompted by y/n's sudden fascination with his right hand.

"i rarely ever give this one attention," y/n shrugged.

"it's not its own being. like a pet or a person."

the look bakugo gave y/n told him that he was the biggest dumbass in history, but y/n ignored it in favor of responding, "still a part of you i rarely get a piece of."

"i hate the way you worded that, creep..."

"you're still blushing."

"in your fucking dreams!"

+i.

going to a nice place was somewhat out of the ordinary for the two of them.

bakugo was focused on being the top hero, and being the top hero meant sacrificing a lot of time.

y/n doesn't know what changed bakugo's mind so suddenly, but he wasn't about to reject a once in a lifetime opportunity.

"the breeze is so nice," y/n breathed in the fresh air of the beach.

he had ran up to the gorgeous ocean, cold water hitting his bare legs while he tried to convince bakugo to join him.

"not up to the challenge? that's rare," y/n teased, turning his back to him and going deeper into the sea.

"oh, shut your trap! i have a damn good reason."

"yeah, i'm sure you do. you sure you aren't just cold?"

"i said shut the fuck up!"

"okay, okay," y/n complied and entertained himself with the vibrant blue waves.

"i love you," came bakugo's voice abruptly.

"that's weird, you never say it first, especially not without any form or profan--" y/n turned around to give bakugo a ridiculous look, laughing as he did, only to stop almost immediately.

"fuck y--" bakugo had to stop his habitual reflex. "marry me... dumbass?"

bakugo with a nervous tone, one knee in the sand, struggling to not get up because of the annoying shifting and imbalance, and a ring in his hands was a priceless sight to see.

"yes! yes! yes!" y/n ran back to the dry sand.

bakugo grinned and accepted the kiss but broke it off sooner than he would've liked for the fear of dropping the ring and losing it to the waves.

he slid the ring on y/n's hand with a proud smile before y/n demanded to have the other ring.

"shit, calm down," bakugo laughed, but he couldn't help but feel happy that y/n was just as ecstatic.

although he was the one to say that, bakugo's left hand struggled to stay still as y/n put the ring on bakugo's ring finger.

"i love you," y/n pressed his lips against the trembling left hand once he was done.

with the rings safely on their hands, bakugo could freely go back to enjoying the treasure that was y/n's lips.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

a/n;

a sequel exactly a month after

i like this format because i'm shit at transitions

i mean just look at the shift from iii to iv...

i had an idea for the right hand theme for a while now since the battle trials when izuku mentioned the right hook thing but i was like woah i could do it with this while writing left hand

#katsuki bakugo x male reader #x male reader #male reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #boku no hero academia #bnha x male reader #bnha #my hero academia #mlm #male reader insert #anime x male reader

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kusagrasskusa · 3 years ago

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Fell! Sans X Reader - "Boss is gonna kill me-"

Here at the Hamilcult, we support fluff fanfics in cringy fandoms that likely implement OOC cannon characters. That was sarcasm but even so, just know that this might be sorta OOC and this is fluff :3

Also, prepare for a Wattpad level written story and a shitty plot. I just got done writing a 7000 worded fanfic and frankly, I need a b r e a k.

Forgive me for I have sinned writing this

~~~~~~~

Y/N yawned, rubbing her tired eyes before laying back on her chair. She sunk deep into her warm coat, the fluffy fur on the hood making her feel more relaxed. The coat was oversized black and red with big pockets, perfect for a human in a place like Snowdin. After all, at the post near the conveniently shaped lamp, Y/N was waiting in the blistering cold. Well, the scenery looked peaceful but it definitely was snowing and the air was terribly cold. The fur on the coat rubbed against her face, making her cheeks turn red from the contrast heat of it and the cold air.

She whined and pulled the coat over her head when a few snowflakes touched her face. "Cold," she mumbled tiredly. Y/N flipped her body to the side and whined again. This time, the problem was how uncomfortable her position was. So she tossed over to the other direction and laid her head against the chair. "...the chair is uncomfortable," she tiredly whined.

"If it's that bad then just fucking leave," a rough, annoyed voice spoke. It was Sans, the slightly taller skeleton with a red sweater on and without his coat. "I want my coat back anyway. You're getting ya' human scent in it and I don't want that kinda trouble," he continued. Y/N huffed and sat up straight. She was around his size to sat the least, but a bit thinner and shorter.

"But I thought you wanted me out here," she retorted. "You clearly get lonely here after a while so I wanted to stay with you."

"Yeah, well stayin' with me hasn't brought more customers, has it?" He replied, turning his head towards the younger girl. His red eyes seethe into her soul basically, but Y/N just giggled at his serious expression. The hood covered half her face so her eyes were widen, which they usually were. It's strange because even without the hoodie, something is always covering her eyes whether it's her hair or not. And without a barber in Snowdin and hundreds of people who want to murder her for being human, Y/N hair is bound to grow out anyway.

"You're so funny sometimes Sans," she complimented with a sweet smile on her face. "You have such a cute look when you're mad...well actually, I don't think I've ever seen you not mad before. I wonder what a genuine smile would look like..." she mumbled sleepily. Sans felt his cheeks light up a bit so he turned away from her, rolling his eyes. He wasn't used to such words at all.

"Huh?–" Sans jumped as he felt the girl's arms wrap around his body softly. She had slipped her arms out of the coat for Sans to out his arms in.

"Put the coat back on. It's big enough for me to fit back here," she giggled quietly as she rested her head on Sans's shoulder. Sans felt his fa e turn red and his body tense; he growled and turn his head towards her.

"I gave the damn thing to you, so wear it properly !"

"But you're cold and you're coat can fit us both."

"I don't care!" Sans hissed back, making Y/N giggled. The two friends often had times like this; wholesome and adorable with Sans getting all flustered. Sans barely even saw her a friend as he promised he would never let anyone get too close to him so he doesn't turn soft. But Y/N's persistent and sweet personality really struck him hard. Of course, he wouldn't go as far as to crush on her, right? No, their just good friends...

Y/N' cheeks puffed out and she pouted her lip like an upset toddler. "Sans, please? Just this once?" She asked as she squeezed him into a tighter hug. Sans scoffed and shook his head.

"No! What am I, some pueny pawn? I will not sink that fucking low," Sans seethed. Y/N was silent for a few moments before simply letting go of her tight grip and going lip against Sans's back. She head remained on his shoulder and luckily his sweater cushioned the feel of his bones, making this a comfortable position.

"I like this much better," she said tiredly with a warm smile on her face. Sans was sitting on a rather large chair that he got in order to find better sleeping situations without sliding off it, but because he was sitting on the edge of the chair, Y/N could easily slide behind him. She sat on her knees that were either side of him and yet it was so comfortable for her. "You're more comfortable than a chair." Her voice got lower and softer each time he spoke but it didn't lose its sweetness once.

"Yeah, well I ain't no damn pillow Y/N. Get the hell off me... Hello?" He asked when he didn't get a response. He turned his head to face the girl and saw her completely emersed into the dream world. It's true that he couldn't see her eyes, but he still could tell. He sighed heavily and turned his head in front of him.

"Huh‐ Ah!-" Y/N shrieked as she was pushed into the freezing snow.

"Ahahaha!" Sans laughed hard as he watched Y/N freak out. "I told you I wasn't no damn pillow!" He laughed as he put his hands on his knees. Y/N whined she stood straight up and glared at him. She walked over to him with a pout on her lip and lightly punched his arm.

"Hmph!" Sans chuckled at her adorable attempt at being angry and bopper her nose rough enough to push her away a bit.

"Was that supposed to make me feel bad, human? Well lemme tell ya', that just won't do," Sans spoke as his smile grew cockier.

"I wasn't even trying to hurt you, so don't start that," Y/N retorted. Sans rolled his eyes while he kept up his cocky smile. He shrugged and pu

"Yeah, sure. You fists are as strong as a fly's. You couldn't hurt me, even if you tried," he pushed. Y/N hmphed and shook her head. She pulled her arm back and punched him right in the shoulder as hard as her tired arm could. Sans just snickered and didn't even flinch.

"Wait, was that the best you got? I heard you humans are supposed to be strong." Sans shrugged his shoulders before pulling his hands out of his pockets and stretching. "Whatever, I guess it doesn't matter all that much. If you ever did decide to attack me, it's not like you'd live long enough to be able to lay a hit on me. And anyone else down here would have no problem given all they got to some little girl."

"I'm 20."

"Doesn't matter," Sans said as he put his hands back in his pockets. Y/N sighed and shook her head.

"You know I wouldn't hurt anyone down here as much as I know you wouldn't hurt me, Sans," her soft replied. To be honest, his name being spoken so sweetly had a good ring to Sans' ears.

"Yeah, well you can't blame me for being cautious. You humans put us down here, remember? You humans murdered so many monsters for no fucking reason then trapped the rest of us down here with your strong souls as aid. Then a few fallen human children came down here and either murdered a little, a large portion, or one of us. Still, you humans seem to be naturally turned to a genocide even though you have fucking everything you can possibly want on the surface. Us monsters have nothing, not even a real sun or moon, to make us happy, so our rage is justified." Sans finished his train of thought with a scowl; he turned his head towards the snow building up on the ground and glared at it. Y/N frowned, holding her arms to her chest.

"...Hey, Sans. It stopped snowing, so we don't have to worry about a blizzard keeping us from going to Grillby's," Y/N said as she looked out of the post, finally noticing the snow had stopped falling.

"Why would I worry about a blizzard? I got a shortcut that'll get us there in no time," he smirked and looked up at her. Y/N cocked her head questioning, humming. "Just follow me, aight," he spoke as he walked behind the post. Y/N caught up with him in no time while holding the sides of the coat close to together instead of zipping it. The sleeves just hung by her sides as she still wanted Sans to wear the coat with her cuddling up behind him, mostly because she could still use the hoode that way.

As they walked up to a tree, suddenly, Sans chuckled. The next moment, they were at the doorway of Grillby's and the absorbed by heat and warm light. Y/N looked around her frantically and confused, "how did you do that?"

"Ya humans got strong souls, us monsters have magic," he explained with a cocky smile. "Now let's go sit down at the bar instead of the booth this time. That drunk bunny annoys the shit outta me," he mumbled the last part as he walked over to the bar with Y/N following.

As she passed the dogs, one of them called out, "wait, is that a human? Isn't that the one we fought before?" It was Dogamy who spoke out, then causing her husband to talk back.

"I think so, yes, the one that turned into a puppy that liked to pet other dogs!"

Y/N giggled tiredly as she sat down at the bar besides Sans, listening on their conversation a few seconds longer before returning her focus to Sans alone. "I want a burger," she mumbled.

"Aight," Sans replied. He signaled for Grillby to walk over after he finished making a drink for another customer. The being of purple fire had what looked like a jagged white frown for a mouth, and he wore a skintight black vest with a white undershirt with rolled up sleeves and black jeans as his attire. He vest was also low cut, so an outline of his chest was visible. Although he had a serious tone, he definitely seemed like he could flirt successfully to any person he wanted.

"What," Grillby's echoy voice rung. The purple fire that made up his body flickered and cracked, making Y/N smile from the satisfying sound.

"Two burgers, put it on my tab," Sans replied, leaning on the counter with a mustard bottle in his hand. Grillby wrote down his order and walked towards the kitchen door with a "fire onlt" sign on it. He walked inside the kitchen and came out with a drink; it was F/D, something Y/N typically ordered when she came to the bar. He set the drink down in front of her.

"On the house," Grillby spoke. Y/N smiled softly at him, thanking him. "Tch," he responded before tending to other costumers. Grillby didn't really like Y/N, but he appreciated the little work and silence she brought him. She only spoke when spoken to, and she didn't order things that were hella hard to make and then complain about it. Sans growled, rolling his eyes.

"Fucking simp," he hissed. Y/N tilted her head, humming.

"Hmm? Why?" Y/N asked before taking a sip if her drink.

"He's losin' money by given out free drinks. And of anyone, to you."

"Well," Y/N smirked sweetly. "I come here a lot and that attracts monsters who want to see the human. So by being tourist attraction, he makes more money," she explained. Sans scoffed, his cheeks reddening.

"Whatever." Aww, our bebe skeleboi is jealous of the big, tall, muscular fire dude! Y/N giggled, patting him on the shoulder.

"I really appreciate you bringing me here with you. When you decide to pay your tab, remind me to contribute enough money to help." Sans shrugged, smirking.

"People like you are too nice down here, really."

"It feels nice to help someone."

"It's not so nice when people try to kill you over it," Sans retorted. Y/N frowned, nodding.

"I guess I didn't grow up down here so there isn't much for me to say, but I can't help but think everyone down here is kind but hurt. I mean, there's a lot about you I noticed that aren't so...pleasant, but you managed to treat me like a person with emotions and opinions. I doubt that of hundreds, you're the only one down here like that," she explained. Sans sighed again, rubbing his eyes.

"Like I said, people like you are too nice down here." Sans finished the conversation this way and then came a long moment of silence. In that time, Grillby came over with two plates with burgers on them. He set them in front of the two.

"Here."

"Thank you, Grillby," Y/N thanked with a warm smile on her face. Grillby silently nodded at her before walking away. She grabbed the ketchup and poured some on her burger, whereas Sans barely acknowledged what was happening around him. He was getting caught up in his thoughts right now, a bit overwhelmed with them actually. Finally, he stood up and walked away from the bar, heading out the front door. Y/N hummed and took a bite of her burger, watching Sans leave.

She set her food down and ran after him, leaving the restaurant right when he did. "Is everything alright?" She asked worriedly, making Sans scowl.

"God, y'know, you gotta stop assuming something's wrong. I'm fine. And either way, I wouldn't tell you some edgy shit no one cares about," Sans replied. Y/N was silent at first, then she took off the coat she still had on. Her hair brushed over her eyes as she did that, making them impossible to see. She put the hood on top of Sans' head before wrapping her arms together coldly. "Why do you're eyes always do that?"

"Do what?" She asked.

"If they ain't covered by a hood, it's covered by your hair. If not your hair, someone's or something's blocking your face. If it's not that, then you're head it turned away from view. It's weird," Sans explained. Y/N hummed, not noticing that until now.

"Well... Do you want to see my eyes?" She asked as she brought her hands up. She was wearing one of Sans's red shirts, which sorta made this moment more cliche but who cares. Sans slowly nodded, curious. Then Y/N pushed her hair out of her face, revealing her normal looking E/C eyes. Well, aside from the kindness and care that laid within them. And it was that feature that hit Sans first.

"Woah," he mumbled, tuning his full body towards her. "That's beautiful!" Y/N giggled, making Sans' face redden. He opened his mouth to form a quick insult to her in order to make him seem like he didn't mean it, but Y/N spoke first.

"Thank you. Your eyes are very pretty as well. It has a nice color to it, too," she replied softly. Sans huffed silently, looking to the side.

"I, uh...thanks," he mumbled as he put his hand in his pockets. He sighed and put coat on right, burying his face in the hood fur. It was obvious that he was pretty flustered right now and reddened, as he did truly feel his chest warm when he was around Y/N. It was strange for him to feel this way so he typically pushed his feelings away and told himself that he was just her guardian per say. But he knew deep down in his heart it wasn't true.

"Look, I got something to say to you," Sans pushed more harshly then intended. "And I don't wanna hear any of this being told or heard by other monsters, got it? This is us and us alone, ya understand? This shit is hard to say, so..." he drifted off. The snow was started to pick up again, making the scene look more aesthetic.

Y/N nodded, listening to him closely when began talking. "This shit isn't said very often down here; no, it's not said at all actually. But you're human, and you have a different heart so..." he trailed off again, scratching the back of his head. He looked Y/N in the eyes and gave her a flustered glare like if he was embarrassed, which she took no offense to. "I don't just give anyone the right to take my coat, waste my time, bother me, stop me from sleeping, and more. It's just you and Boss, and even he has less power than you."

He continued after a deep breath. "And its not because you're human or I pity you. In fact, I couldn't care less if you're soul is strong, since I could still break it; I couldn't care less if you fell down here, since we're trapped down here too. I let you do because... it's like a bandaid, just gotta say it... I care about you. Not even like a sister or close friend, no, I mean if you were about to be shot, I would jump in front of bullet so you could liev put your life happily. I love you."

Y/N was silent, sorta just staring. Her whole body was shook, frozen, and in shock. She didn't even know what she just heard or if she was dreaming. She even forgot that she was freezing due to being too caught up in her feelings. Sans stood there silently for about 10 seconds as well, before he face-palmed and grew red jn embarrassment. That's when a tear escaped the corner of Y/N's eye and a large smile grew on her features.

"Sans," she replied sweetly as she walked over to him. She fell forwards on him and wrapped her arms around the inside of the coat, around his sweater. The embraced him tightly and said, "I love you too!" Sans felt his heart move a little and a new feeling wash over him. Without being able to control it, he felt a genuine smile grow on his face as he hugged her back tightly.

"I'm so...glad," he breathed out heavily, his nerves relaxing. The two stayed in that position for a while before eventually breaking off. Y/N pecked him on the cheek before grabbing his hand.

"We should go back inside, hehe. The food'll get cold," she said as she motioned to the door. Sans nodded nervously, chuckling.

"Yeah, and Grillby will be pissed if we wasted food. I don't wanna deal with that again." The two fo them walked inside the restaurant/bar, they started their way back to the bar. Yet when they got in, the bar was silent. I mean, the restaurant was pitch silent; not only that, but many eyes were on them as they walked in. Y/N completely ignored their exists' and sat down on the barstool, picked up her burger and ate it. Luckily was still warm. Sans on the other hand was hella nervous. No, he was fucking terrified.

Grillby walked over to the two and leaned forward, so than when he whispered, only they could hear. "The bunny chick saw you two hug and kiss. Just play it cool, and they'll forget all about it in a few days." Well shit, Sans thought. Boss is gonna kill me when he finds out.

Y/N just ate her burger in peace, not really caring if other people knew about them. After all, it's their choice to laugh about like a boy kindergartener complaining about holding hands with a girl because it means their "dating," or to hear about it and mind their own business.

#sans x reader #fell sans #underfell #underfell sans #underfell x reader #underfell sans x reader #bad writing #bad plot

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 4 years ago

Text

At 11:08pm In The Music Room, I Was Saved (Part 2)

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

Part 1

A/N: second and last part, lovelies. Thank you again anon for this prompt (I may have, once again, deviated from your original idea bear with me), and thank you @venablemayfairgoode for helping me figure out the end (tw: the death of a dog is mentioned :))))))) ). As always, English isn’t my first language. x

Word count: ≈ 7 000

You were so fucking pissed. Also, you couldn’t stop crying. The world had ended on a beautiful late spring afternoon and now, for some reason, you were trapped in a gloomy building with people you didn’t know and the woman who had broken your heart bossing you around.

And the worst was, you had been so relieved to know she had survived. And you shouldn’t have. But the tears you had cried on the plane to Outpost 3 had not only been for your family and friends; they had also been for her. They had mostly been for her. And you hated yourself because of that.

She looked different. Her clothes were darker, her hair was darker, her eyes were darker and they were glazed. They looked as if they were made of stone. Tourmaline maybe. Something bad must have happened to her, but you decided you didn’t care. Bad things had happened to you, too, and one of them she had caused.

“There’s been a mistake,” she said, voice very deep and very slow. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I don’t want to be here,” you sobbed.

“You were assigned at Outpost 2.”

You were so mad at her. Had she done this? Ripped you from your family and sent you to this dark place to spend the rest of your life consumed by grief and guilt and hatred? She couldn’t have done this, she wouldn’t have done this but then again and was that panic in her eyes? It was gone before you had time to take a good look at it, but you knew her. You knew how to read her.

“Why are you here?” she asked, as if you had chosen to, as if it had been your decision.

“Because some rude guys barged into my flat and shoved me into a plane,” you sobbed, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “I don’t want to be here,” you repeated.

“You should’ve been sent to Outpost 2,” she said. She was trying so hard to hide the confusion from her face, but you saw it, and you saw that flash in her eyes again and it was panic.

Suddenly it hit you: how could she know where you should have been sent? How could she –

“Did you…” It was hard to speak. Your throat was too tight. Your eyes widened with horror, and hers hardened. “Are you the reason why I’m here?”

You were vaguely aware that everyone else in the room was staring at you and Wilhemina. You should have felt ill-at-ease, should have felt shy. But all you could feel was anger.

“I don’t want to be here!” you cried again, but this time it was fierce. This time it was a cry of rage.

Wilhemina tapped her cane on the ground. The sound echoed off the walls.

“Better sad than dead,” she said coldly. And then she proceeded to ignore you as she explained the house rules.

You barely heard what she said. You were burning, and you couldn’t stop your tears from falling. This was not happening. You were in a dream. You would wake up and everything would be alright. You would count to ten and the nightmare would end.

You counted to ten. It didn’t end.

What you did hear of Wilhemina’s speech sounded ridiculous. No technology? No sex? Death punishment for intimacy? People basically being your slaves? Her eyes were too cold. They were glazed. This wasn’t the Wilhemina you knew. The Wilhemina you knew had used cruelty for protection. This one used cruelty for fun.

A few people protested, but the protests didn’t last long. This Wilhemina was just as scary as the one you knew.

And then she was leaving, to the sound of her cane, every tap a stab to your heart. A Grey led you to your room and you collapsed on your bed, hugged your pillow, and cried.

The next few days you didn’t leave your room often. You felt so empty. You spent most of your time lying on your bed and grieving the people you had lost. You got up for lunch and dinner. Sat at the table and stared at your plate as the others tried to make small talk. The food cube had no taste. It felt like jelly in your mouth. You hated it. You hated having to swallow it. You hated how it never soothed the hunger in your stomach.

You sat on the left side of the table. Wilhemina sat at the head of it. The light from the candles would glint off your food cube and fork. Coco sat on your left, a girl named Mary on your right. Coco would do most of the talking. Complaining, really. Sometimes – but only sometimes – you would glance in Wilhemina’s direction. Once or twice, she met your eyes. Hers were cold and like a black hole.

After the first week your tears finally subsided. You spent more time in the music room with the others, playing board games, reading, talking. Coco was a bitch, but she made you laugh, and you soon befriended the girl named Mary. She was about your age, was very shy and didn’t speak often. She kept in her pocket a photo of the dog she had owned and loved more than anything else, a small, sweet thing with big black eyes named Sam.

You didn’t know how Wilhemina spent her days. You barely ever saw her. You could forget her, you thought, if you didn’t dream of her every night. You would forget her if only your stupid heart would stop skipping a beat and break into a gallop every time you heard the familiar sound of her cane, letting you know she was coming, she was coming! in a second you would see her and be near her and hear her voice. You would forget her if she wasn’t your first thought every damn morning when you woke up. If when she was near you, you didn’t feel like you were burning and suddenly became aware of every single sound that was her, the rustle of her dress, her breathing, her heart beating, her eyelashes fluttering, everything.

You barely ever saw her, but when you did, time stopped, and it lasted forever.

You fell into a routine. Aimless, dreary. Getting out of bed every morning. Eating your food cube. Making small talk with the other residents. A teary-eyed Mary showing you her picture of Sam. Trying not to think, not to remember. It went on like this for a week and a half, until two Greys were found having sex and were sentenced to death.

It was Mary who told you the news, just before dinner. At first you thought she was joking. But then every soul at the Outpost was talking about it and even Coco seemed scared.

You didn’t know the Grey girl, but you had spoken to the boy once or twice. His name was Mark. He smiled at you every time you would meet him in a corridor.

You ate your food cube in complete silence and shock. When dinner was over, when Wilhemina stood up and walked off, you didn’t think. You stood up, too, and followed her.

She didn’t become aware of your presence until she was halfway down the corridor to her room. You saw her slow down, come to a halt. She tapped her cane on the floor, then turned on her heel.

Time slowed down. You noticed every detail, even the smallest ones. The way the candlelight glided over her cheekbones as she turned. You were still so attuned to her, every inch of her.

You stopped breathing as her eyes locked with yours. And it would have been so easy, to take a step forward, to wrap your arms around her waist, to pull her close and go back home. It seemed her eyes were pleading you to do just that.

But then she blinked, and her eyes turned cold. Glazed. Tourmaline. You felt your body stiffen.

“May I speak to you?” you asked, almost a hiss. Then you added, “Ms Venable.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly at you, raised her chin. “I do not care to hear what you have to say,” she said coldly.

You took a step forward and snarled, “I will say it. You can either listen to me here, or in your room. Office. Whatever.”

Her nostrils flared, and for a second you thought she was going to slap you. You had seen her slap some of the other residents who had dared question her rules. That was one of the things the new Wilhemina had no problem doing.

But she merely nodded, almost imperceptibly, and led you to her room.

You tried not to look. At the bed, perfectly made, at the pillow where she laid her head every night. At the vanity where she did her hair and make-up every morning. All the small rituals you knew so well.

It hurt. Merely standing there in her room felt like someone was crushing your heart between cold fingers.

You came to a halt in the middle of the room and tried to swallow past the lump in your throat. Wilhemina stopped in front of you, rested both her hands on the head of her cane.

How did she look so different? Why was her face so hard and so cold? She reminded you of the ancient statues of Greek or Italian gods. The powerful, lifeless stare. The dangerous power. How she could destroy you – how she had destroyed you – with one word or one tap of her cane on the floor.

You searched her face for the light, for the fear, for the love, the shyness and the boldness, the desire to be completely, truly seen and loved. You found nothing.

“Well?” she asked, annoyed, after a while.

You cleared your throat. “I heard you’re gonna have Mark and that Grey girl executed tomorrow morning.”

“You heard right,” she mocked.

You cleared your throat again. Your right hand twitched at your side. “Why?”

She made an annoyed noise. “You know why. They didn’t follow the rules. They put their own little disgusting needs first and compromised the group. We cannot have more mouths to feed.”

“Disgusting needs,” you repeated automatically. You took one step towards her and raised your head defiantly. “I don’t remember you calling sex ‘disgusting’ when we were doing it.”

Something flashed in her eyes. Something that almost looked familiar.

“Don’t be crude,” she hissed.

“You cannot have those two Greys killed,” you went on, ignoring her. “That’s murder, Wilhemina.”

Her name dropped from your mouth before you had time to think. You paused. She didn’t react.

“I know you’re better than that,” you added, taking another step towards her. Closer. You wanted to reach out and touch her. It seemed to you she was leaning forward, forward – towards you. It seemed to you her eyes flicked to your lips.

How you had missed her. How you missed her still. How you wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and demand an explanation as to why she had destroyed your world, stolen all the stars from your night sky. How had she dared, who did she think she was, and what had happened to her that had stolen all the light from her eyes?

“For God’s sake, Wilhemina,” you cried when still she didn’t react, didn’t speak, didn’t move, “you can’t kill two people for being in love!”

“Why not?”she hissed, low and dangerous, like a snake.”What’s so special about love?”

“You know what’s so special about love. You felt it.” A pause. “And don’t tell me you didn’t. You may think you were good at hiding your feelings, but you weren’t.”

Wilhemina’s gaze hardened. “Those two Greys will die tomorrow at dawn,” she answered emotionlessly.

You raised your hands in frustration. “What’s wrong with you?” you cried. Again, she didn’t react. Her silence only fueled your anger. “If you do that,” you went on, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from yelling the words, “if you have them killed, you’ll be walking down a path I cannot follow you on.” You gave a mirthless laugh. “But I guess you don’t care. Who am I kidding? You don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore. You made that clear months ago. But ask yourself this question, Wilhemina: will you be able to sleep knowing you’ve killed two innocent people?”

Oh, she would. Without a doubt she would. She knew it and you knew it and you saw it on her face. Yours turned sickly pale.

“Okay,” you mumbled, lowering your head in defeat. “Okay. I – you know what, I –“ You met her eyes again. “I don’t even know how I could fall in love with you in the first place.”

She swallowed, but her face remained blank. But that familiar something flashed in her eyes again, something sad, that looked almost like the Wilhemina she used to be.

You knew confronting her would likely make her shut down. You knew that. But you were only human, for God’s sake, and you had been hurt and betrayed and it was a well-known fact, that anger was stronger than Man.

So you took yet another step towards her and clenched your fists.

“I have questions,” you growled, “and you’re going to answer them. Why am I here? What made you think you could dump me with no explanation? Did you even love me, or was it all a game to you?”

By the end of your little outburst you were breathless, and Wilhemina, the Wilhemina you had tried to reach and caught a glimpse of, had been roughly locked away.

“Say one more word,” she enunciated, glazed, empty eyes staring right into yours,” and I’ll have you arrested and whipped every day until you meet your pitiful end.”

You opened your mouth, but she cut you off. “Don’t forget who you are, Y/N. I’m the only one who has authority here. If you question me or my rules again, I’ll make sure that insolent tongue of yours is nicely severed from the rest of your body. And don’t think I won’t enjoy watching.”

Your whole body was shaking. But it wasn’t with fear. It was with rage, and with something else you didn’t like at all, for that something else was love. Love that was terrified and aching because this wasn’t her, this wasn’t right, and part of you desperately wanted to make it right again.

Someone knocked on the door. Your eyes widened.

Don’t, you screamed at Wilhemina in your head. Ignore whoever it is. Talk to me. Let me in, let me help you, let me –

“Yes?” Wilhemina called.

The door opened, and Mary shyly stepped into the room. “I, um, I’m sorry to bother you,” she said in her sweet, low voice. “But, um, Y/N, I need your help with something.”

“Can’t it wait?” you asked her, your gaze not leaving Wilhemina’s face, your voice shaking, your body shaking with rage and love and ache.

“Obviously it cannot,” Wilhemina answered, eyes boring into you. “Or else little Mary wouldn’t have been brave enough to push that door open.”

Mary shot her a scared glance and immediately lowered her eyes again.

Send her off, you begged Wilhemina. Make me stay.

Her gaze was too intense, it was too cold, too dark. You lowered your head and turned to Mary.

“I lied,” Mary whispered once she had closed the door behind you two. She glanced up at you with a smile. “I don’t need your help with anything. I just thought I should come and rescue you.”

You swallowed. Your body was still shaking, and you couldn’t unclench your fists. “Right.”

“I heard her threaten you. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you retorted sharply.

Wilhemina wouldn’t hurt you, you thought. She had only tried to scare you, to push you away. She would never carry out her threat.

But then again. You didn’t know what this new Wilhemina was capable of. Fear vaguely sang in your chest. Maybe she had meant every word.

“If there’s anything I can do to help you,” Mary was saying, “please tell me. I’ll be happy to listen.”

You thanked her, told her you wanted to be alone, and went to your room.

Wilhemina had decided the execution would be public to set an example. All the residents of Outpost 3 gathered in the music room and the two Greys who were to die were ordered to sit down on their knees in the middle of the room. They were both crying. Pathetic. Weak. Wilhemina looked down on them and smiled to herself.

A guard walked in with a gun. The Grey boy whimpered.

Someone – the hairdresser – mumbled something, a protest probably, but he was too scared to say it loudly. The old lady who had once been a star nodded at Wilhemina and gave her a smile and a thumbs up. Wilhemina ignored her.

You were standing in front of her slightly on her left, by Mary’s side. Wilhemina was trying not to pay you attention, but somehow you were the only person she could see.

You spent an awful lot of time with Mary, she had noticed. Laughing together, talking together, napping together. Good thing for you. Mary was just the type of person who would treat you right. She’d be kind, and happy, and healthy, and enough.

The Grey boy said something, pleaded for his life, probably. Wilhemina didn’t care. She didn’t listen. She nodded to the guard, and he crossed to him, holding the gun in front of him.

Wilhemina saw Mary grab your hand, saw you touch your shoulder to hers. Oh, you would be alright.

She didn’t know why, but her eyes had started to sting. Her hands were shaking. She willed them not to. They would not stop.

The guard raised his gun, pointed it at the Grey boy’s head, but Wilhemina didn’t see him, not really. She saw you turn your head and look at her, your eyes glossy and pleading, your hand holding Mary’s, and Wilhemina took a sharp intake of breath and felt tears pool in her eyes for she had loved and loved you and she had lost you. And now she was losing you again.

But she couldn’t go back, not now. She would lose her authority, she would be laughed at. And besides, she didn’t want to. This execution was the right thing to do. It would make everyone at the Outpost fear and respect her. They would bow their heads to her and they would hate her but they would never, never laugh at her.

There was a low but fierce shout, “Stop!” Your voice.

The guard lowered his arm slightly. He looked at you, confused, then at Wilhemina, awaiting orders. You stepped forward, letting go of Mary’s hand, came to a halt as if you weren’t sure what to do. A second passed. Then you crossed to Wilhemina, cupped her face in your hands, searched her eyes and murmured, “I love you.”

Something inside of her melted. The warmth from your touch and the warmth from your voice seeped into her and turned ice into water. The water washed down everything and left her insides dripping wet and glinting in the sun like after a hurricane.

You had spoken too low for the others to hear, but they saw the change on Wilhemina’s face. They saw her eyes widen and the light weave in as if she had opened a blind to let the sun in. They saw life and emotion settle back on her face and soften it.

For the first time since the world had ended, since you had walked into this music room sobbing and looked up and met Wilhemina’s eyes, you found her again. And you fell in love with her all over again.

You tried to give her a smile, and it was small and quivering, but it was genuine. It was fond. Wilhemina’s lips parted on a breath as she searched your eyes, wondering, hoping, and when she blinked a tear rolled down her cheek and you caught it with your thumb. You were crying, too, but you smiled again, stroke her cheek. You felt the tension leave your shoulders.

The gunshot echoed off the walls as loud as a crack of thunder. It made everyone in the room jump. The Grey girl screamed as Mark slumped onto the floor at the guard’s feet. The guard moved his hand, pointed his gun at the girl and pulled the trigger.

The second gunshot was louder, somehow. It deafened you and left a ringing in your ears. Your hands fell from Wilhemina’s face as you both turned to stare at the two corpses. Blood slowly pooled around them and shone faintly in the candlelight.

The guard met your horrified gaze and shrugged. “Following orders,” he said nonchalantly. “It was taking too long.”

Wilhemina was staring down at the two dead bodies with an unreadable expression on her face. Then she looked up at the guard, and her eyes were glazed again.

“I didn’t order you to shoot,” she said coldly.

“You did,” the guard argued.

“She told you to stop,” Wilhemina said, nodding at you, her voice growing angry now.

The guard shrugged again. “I only take my orders from you.” He raised his gun and held it to his chest, a defiant look in his eyes.

Someone in the room was crying softly. You didn’t know who. Your mind had gone numb.

Wilhemina turned away from you. Slowly, regally, she walked to the corpses, her dark, glazed eyes fixed on the boy’s head. She stopped in front of him and tapped her cane on the ground. Then she gave orders to carry the corpses outside and burn them.

Dinner was silent that night. You swallowed your food cube and drank your water. You couldn’t look at Wilhemina. Coco tried to diffuse the tension with a few sly remarks that made some of the residents laugh nervously. When dinner was over, you excused yourself and went to your room.

You lay on your bed and prayed for sleep, but sleep, unsurprisingly, didn’t come. You turned and turned until you gave up. You sat up with a groan and buried your face in your hands.

Blood, slowly pooling. The two bodies, not moving. Wilhemina’s eyes, widening. A tear rolling down her face, that you caught with your thumb. You couldn’t chase those images from your mind.

It hadn’t been her fault, not really, you told yourself. She would have spared them in the end. You knew it. Without a doubt.

You buried your fingers in your hair, dug your nails into your skull. She would have spared them, for the Wilhemina you knew had come back, if only for a few seconds – and she had been hopeful, and you had been, too.

And you knew you should still be mad, you knew it was too early to forgive her. But you were ready to surrender and fall back into her arms the second she’d want you back. If she ever decided she wanted you back.

There was a whisper, in your head, that assured you she did.

At 11:00pm you gave up on trying to sleep. You got up and went to the music room, hoping someone would be there and would like to talk to help you pass the time. Maybe Coco, for she would make you laugh. Or Mary, for her kindness would soothe you.

There was only one person, and it was Wilhemina. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. You thought it was because of annoyance, or disappointment maybe. Bullshit, your heart told you. She had been the one you had wanted to find.

Wilhemina was sitting in an armchair, her hands resting on the head of her cane, her eyes fixed on the fire. She raised her head when she heard your footsteps, and met your eyes.

“What are you still doing up?” she asked, not unkindly.

“There’s no curfew I know of,” you replied, probably too sharply, but Wilhemina didn’t seem to mind. She nodded, then resumed her staring at the fire.

For a minute you hesitated. Going back to your room was the wisest and safest option. But before you had consciously taken your decision, your feet moved towards Wilhemina. A moth drawn to a flame. Always, when it came to her.

You sat on the armchair opposite the hearth from her. For a long moment there was only silence. The fire crackled lazily and warmed you up.

You glanced up at Wilhemina, only to realize she was staring at you. You quickly lowered your gaze, nervously shifted in your armchair, then glanced at her again.

The expression on her face wasn’t closed, you noticed. There was a wistfulness to it, some sprinkles of curiosity, too. You felt hopeful again.

“So,” you said, assuming a casual tone as if you two were having a friendly conversation in a bar, “what’s your plan in the long run?”

Wilhemina watched you for a few seconds before she answered. Her voice was emotionless. “The Cooperative should contact me soon enough with new instructions.”

That’s not what you had meant. You had meant about her and you. But you let it drop.

“So you’re still following orders, uh?” you taunted. “I thought you were the only boss around here.”

“This is bigger than this outpost,” Wilhemina replied coldly. “This is about building a new, better world, where everyone is at their rightful place according to their worth and abilities.”

“What is my rightful place in this new world, do you think?” You waited, but no answer came.”What is yours?” you tried again. “Let me guess. You are the feared, hated leader. Making sure everyone respects you, making sure everyone survives. Noble work, but it sounds awfully lonely. Wouldn’t you rather fall asleep in somebody’s arms every night?”

Wilhemina’s expression hardened. She kept silent, which surprised you, and averted her eyes from your face to stare at the fire again.

You watched her. You watched the shadows the flames threw on her face. Followed the arch of her brow, the line of her mouth.

Had she done something to her hair, or was it the dim light? It was darker now. She had let you dye it once when you two had been dating. You had frowned at the smell and coughed and splashed the walls with tiny dots of orange. Wilhemina had tried to scold you, but she had burst into laughter instead, her hair piled on top of her head. She had let you wipe the dye splatters from her face and tuck her hair in a shower cap. And while the dye processed, she had sat on the couch reading and you had rested your head on her lap and grinned at her.

Wilhemina cleared her throat, bringing you back to reality.

“What you said earlier, did you really mean it?” she asked in a low voice, still staring at the fire. “Or were you only trying to save the Greys?”

You leaned forward, digging your elbows into your thighs. “I’ll answer that once you’ve answered my own question. Why did you leave me?”

A pause. An annoyed look.

“Because I felt like it,” Wilhemina replied.

Your jaw dropped. “Wow. Because you felt like it?” You shook your head, anger rising in your chest. “I don’t believe you. I’ll ask it again. Why did you leave me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve just told you why. It’s not my fault you’re too proud to accept it.”

“Why did you leave me?” you repeated, clenching your fists.

Wilhemina made an angry noise. She tapped her cane on the floor, then slowly stood up. You jumped on your feet and followed her when she crossed the room and turned right down a corridor.

“Did you wake up one morning and realize you didn’t love me?” you called, as she opened the door to her room. You stepped inside after her. “You’d had your fun, but now it was time to plan the end of the world? Uh? Do you have any idea,” you growled, voice growing louder and angrier, “how it felt to watch you leave without even knowing what I did wrong?”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Wilhemina said, voice quavering.

“Then why the fuck did you leave?” you growled, taking one step toward her. “Tell me! For fuck’s sake, I deserve an explanation!”

She couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. She was staring at the floor and her breathing was quickening at it always would when she was trying not to cry. And suddenly you were in the company of the Wilhemina you knew, the one you loved, the one who didn’t think she should be soft and kind but was still willing to try, for you.

“Elijah came to see me,” she answered, so low you barely heard it.

“So what?” you growled. “You fucked him and realized he was your one true love?”

She winced, and you bit your cheek, thinking that maybe you had gone a bit too far. But she deserved it, part of you thought. She had hurt you too badly.

You waited, but she didn’t add anything after that. So, rage beating inside your chest instead of your heart, you strode to her and planted yourself right in front of her, fuming, and she flinched but held her ground.

“Tell me,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “Why did you leave me?”

She drew in a breath, turned away from you and crossed to her chest of drawers. You were about to yell at her when she opened one of the drawers, closed it again. She crossed back to you and dropped something into your hand.

A lighter. Small and black and plain. You stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“What…?”

Wilhemina had never been good with words. But when you two had been dating, she had been willing to open herself up to you in any way she could. Actions sometimes were easier, she had found.

You glanced up at her, then back down at the lighter in your palm. “I don’t understand,” you said.

Wilhemina had averted her gaze from you again. “I couldn’t pick it up from the floor,” she whispered brokenly.

It didn’t hit you all at once like a revelation. Instead it felt like something spreading inside your head. A bubble. Slowly inflating until it burst.

“What?”

Somehow, it was the only thing you could say.

Wilhemina squared her shoulders, raised her chin, built up her walls. She met your eyes and glared.

“You got what you wanted. Now leave before I feed you to the monsters outside.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but instead you burst into tears.

Your chin dropped to your chest and you sobbed, as Wilhemina stared at you in shock. She extended one hand towards you, hesitated, changed her mind. Her brow pushed up in confusion and concern as she waited for you to calm down, dying to touch and comfort you, but not daring to. She had lost you, after all. She hadn’t been enough.

Some people are just too fucked up to be loved, Elijah had said. She could hear his voice now as if he were saying it again, remembered his exact intonation, the way he had pronounced every syllable.

“It’s alright,” she tried after a little while. “He was right.”

“Who was right?” you sobbed, wiping your eyes.

“Elijah. I did the right thing for you.”

That made you burst into tears again. Except this time, you wrapped your arms around Wilhemina’s waist and pulled her close.

She stiffened against you, but you buried your face in her chest and held her tight and cried and cried at how blind you had been. Your heart broke, but this time it didn’t break for you. It broke for her. For how low her self-esteem was, how she had tried over and over again to be kinder and softer and yet had still been convinced loving her was a burden. Loving her had been the best thing in your whole goddamn life.

Tentatively, Wilhemina slipped one arm around your waist and rested her chin on top of your head.

“I’m gonna bring Elijah back from Hell and kill him,” you mumbled against her chest.

“But he didn’t do anything wrong,” Wilhemina replied. “He was right. All he did was love you so much he only wanted the best for you.”

You shook your head, wailing as Wilhemina brought her free hand up to your head and started stroking your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked. “I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina’s fingers stuttered in your hair. “What for?” she asked, and you couldn’t see her face but you knew what her expression must be like right now, brow pushed up in confusion, eyes wide as she tried to think of something to say or do to help you calm down.

You sobbed against her chest and tightened your grip on her. “I’m so sorry he did this to you and I let him.”

“I don’t –“She paused, hesitated. “I don’t understand,” she breathed after a moment, which only made you cry harder.

You felt her body stiffen again. “No no no, please don’t cry,” she pleaded. Her hand hovered over your head, afraid to touch you now. “I’ll stop talking, I’m sorry, I’m going to shut up. But please don’t cry.”

You clung to her, clutching the back of her dress, wishing that you could… you didn’t really know what. Let her creep inside of you, let her nestle by your heart so the outside world could never hurt her ever again.

When you had calmed down enough to speak, you asked her what Elijah had told her exactly. You wanted to hear every word, so you could erase them from her brain and replace them with words of truth and love.

You had expected her to refuse, to shut down and keep silent. But to your utter surprise, she let out a shaky breath, pressed her cheek against your head, and started to speak.

It was barely a whisper, and at first she paused and hesitated every second or so; but then, words poured out of her, ashamed and painful. You closed your eyes against a fresh wave of tears as you listened.

It didn’t last long. When she was done, her whole body slackened and you tightened your grip on her, afraid she was going to collapse on the floor. She didn’t, though. She nuzzled your hair and sighed.

She hadn’t broken up with you because of you. She had done it for you. Or at least, she had thought so. And it made everything worse, for you had said hurtful things to her. Accused her of things that had never even crossed her mind. Rubbed salt on the wound.

Not your fault, said a voice in your head. You hadn’t known.

After a quiet moment had passed, you took a deep breath and pulled away. Wilhemina let out a faint noise of protest, but you cupped her face and locked eyes with her.

“Have you ever thought that, maybe,” you whispered, offering her a small, teary smile, “I’m the only one who can decide what and who’s enough for me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes widened a bit. You gave her another smile, then let go of her face and looked around the room.

“You said Elijah told you you could never be enough for me and you believed him,” you said, gathering unlit candles in your hands. “I know this kind of thoughts don’t go away easily. I know it takes time and work. But let me show you something.”

You came to a halt in front of Wilhemina and held out the lighter. She glanced at it, then met your eyes, frowning. You leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her mouth. Wilhemina’s lips parted on a breath as you pulled away.

You smiled. “Let’s pretend these candles are my heart. Shush, let me finish. Sit down. Let me show you how you light up my heart.”

You set the first candle down on the bedside table. “Remember the day we met at the supermarket? I was blocking the aisle with my cart and you snapped at me. Told me my ass was too big for this world.” You chuckled softly at the memory. “My life was so boring before that day. I hadn’t realized it, but it lacked challenges, it lacked passion. It’s like my brain was asleep, and with just a few words, you awoke it.”

You flicked the lighter and lit the candle. The flame flickered, then grew. You glanced at Wilhemina, gave her a smile.

“Remember the first time we made love?” Wilhemina’s eyes were riveted on the burning candle. You bit your lower lip, set a second candle on the chest of drawers. “You were so nervous, and you tried to hide it, but Mina, honestly, I can tell you now, you weren’t very successful. You thought you would hurt me or not know how to pleasure me. Remember how many times you made me come that night? You’re a great lover, Mina. And you sure have talent in these fingers and tongue of yours,” you teased. Wilhemina’s eyes, wide and shining, flicked to you. “But do you know what you’re even better at? The way you take care of me after. The way you cannot seem to be able to stay away, how you always snuggle up to me and hold me and ask me if it was good.” You lit up the second candle.

You took a third one, put it on the floor by the door. “Remember my birthday?” you went on. “I’d spent the last one alone. You brought me breakfast in bed, bought me flowers and a cake.”

“I ruined your birthday cake,” Wilhemina whispered sadly.

You shook your head, flicking the lighter again. “But you bought it. For me. To celebrate me.”

You crossed to the other side of the room, set two candles on the vanity. “I don’t know if you’re even aware you did it, but you’d always fluff my pillow when you’d make our bed in the morning. You’d never fluff yours. Only mine.”

Wilhemina let out a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“It’s only one example of all the things you did that made me feel so loved. Like how you’d always buy pears even though you don’t like the taste of them, just because you knew I do. Or how you read the whole of War and Peace just because I said it’s one of my favorite books. That’s more than a thousand pages, Mina.” Your voice broke as your lips parted on a smile. “You didn’t even think it was that good. But you read the whole thing. Valentine’s Day. You said you hated Valentine’s Day. You bought me flowers and chocolates and tickets for Carmen. Front row center seats, Mina.”

You were crying again by now, but these tears were happy. You set the last candle by the bed. “You made sure I’d survive the Apocalypse. It was you, wasn’t it? I don’t know how you did it, but I’m sure it was you. I used to be mad at you for having saved me but left all my friends and family to die. But you saved me. Gave me another chance at life. Because you still cared about me.”

Wilhemina sniffed, wiped her nose on the back of her hand. You walked around the bed and took her hand.

The whole room was studded with bright, dancing dots of light, as if you had stuck your head into the night sky. Wilhemina’s hand was shaking, but she laced her fingers with yours and gave them a tight squeeze.

“So, you see,” you whispered, “see how bright you make my heart shine.”

A sob pushed out of Wilhemina’s throat. She wrapped her free arm around her waist, hugging herself as she cried. You leaned towards hers, bumping her shoulder with yours. For a while she didn’t move; then she, tentatively, laid her head on your shoulder. And then, as you did not protest, did not push her away, she slipped her arm around your waist and pulled you close.

Her hand cupped your face and her mouth crashed against yours as she sobbed and you sobbed and kissed her fervently back. How you had missed this. How you had missed her. One of your arms wrapped around her shoulders to press her closer still, tongue sliding inside her mouth. You were shaking, entirely too hot and so, so alive.

Something seemed to break loose inside Wilhemina. She let out a noise like a whimper, and suddenly she was crying over and over again “I’m so sorry” and “please” and “don’t go”. You pulled away slightly, cupped her face to make her look at you.

“I’m not leaving,” you whispered. “I forgive you.”

Her shoulders slumped with relief as another sob pushed up her throat. “But what about Mary?” she hiccupped.

You frowned, stroking her cheek. “What about Mary?”

“And what about the two Greys?” she went on, voice growing frantic and breathless. “What about the rules? I’ll hurt you again, I’ll hold you back, I’m too fucked up –“

“None of that,” you shushed her gently.

“But I –“

“No.” A kiss on her mouth, slow and sweet, meant to reassure. You tugged softly at her lip, and she moaned, dug her fingers into your skin. She let out a breath that went all the way down into your lungs, and sank into you.

After a moment, she rested her cheek on your shoulder and opened her eyes to look at all the lighted candles. You held her, stroking the nape of her neck, rubbing circles on her back.

The candles were burning. They lit up the room.

Tag list: @sapphicsarahpaulson @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers @coconutlipss @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @coxmicbabygirl

#does reader forgive wilhemina too quickly in that one?#yes #but i want to give w all the love and no one but god can stop me #ahs #ahs imagines #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #fics

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fullmarvelheart · 3 years ago

Text

Crossing Lines (6/?)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x fbi!mob!Reader

Word Count: 5,199

Recommended: 18+ readers

Summary: A sudden and unsettling event rocks the underworld, and Y/N is immediately called in to prepare for what’s to come. What she isn’t prepared for is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as the new head of the Brooklyn mafia clan. When these two get shoved into a world of danger and deceit, will they ever learn to trust each other? Or will they be doomed from the start?

Warnings: Swearing, angst, a wee bit of fluff?, Grant Ward (because he’s his own warning), mentions of violence

A/N: Happy Black Widow Day! I’ve been waiting for this movie to come for so long and unfortunately I won’t be able to watch it tonight😢. But anyways, here’s part six with a surprise character😉 (literally didn’t think of adding her until yesterday). Hope you guys enjoy! This has not been beta read at all. All mistakes are my own. The GIF is not mine, so credit goes to the original creator!

Series Masterlist

“Skye, come on! Why the hell did you drive off to the middle of damn nowhere?”

“Just trust me.” She says calmly as she parks the car, completely ignoring my outburst in the process. “And stop complaining, Y/N/N. I know you had another fight with your dad, so I know you wanted to be out of the city.”

“Fine, ok. But what is going on? I’m guessing Ward has no idea what you’re doing.”

“You’re not serious, right? You know he hates me doing anything remotely dangerous.”

“Not that I’m against going behind your boyfriend’s back, but what did you do?” I ask my, running my fingers through my hair.

“So, you know how Ward mentioned HYDRA’s top runner, Crossbones, the other day?” I nod. “Well, I got curious. We know nothing about him, and Ward thinks he can set a trap for him. I just, I just don’t want him to get hurt when I could have done something.”

“And you know if you did this at the Bureau, he’d find out somehow and stop you. Or Gonzales would.” Now she nods. “Alright, but I’m helping you with this. I’ve got a weird feeling about the whole thing and as your partner, it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“You worry too much.” She chuckles. “Besides, I’ll practically be behind my computer screen the whole time. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“You’re right, I guess. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop worrying though. And why are you still with Ward?” I groan dramatically, causing her to laugh.

“Oh, be nice. He’s not bad once you get to know him.”

“I don’t know. Something about his arrogance just doesn’t settle well with me.” I shrug.

“You’re being over dramatic. He’s great!”

“He better be, he is dating my best friend after all. Now let’s find the next exit, I’m hungry!”

Her laughter echoes in my head as the car moves along the highway.

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

I stomp through the halls on a mission. The office was empty, and disturbingly dark and stuffy for nine in the morning. If he’s not in his office there’s only one other place I could imagine him in, his bedroom.

“Please, don’t kill me for this.” I mutter to myself before taking a deep breath and throwing the door open.

My eyes scan the room and zero in on the lump underneath the covers.

“Go away, Steve.” His usually pleasant rough voice is mixed with hints of sleep and something else. I can’t help it that my inner self finds it sexy while I try to stay concerned rather than turned on.

Now’s not the time for a daydream. Focus.

The door shuts with a soft click, giving him the impression ‘Steve’ left. You aren’t that lucky today. I’m no push over! My boot clad feet thud on the wooden floor as I march straight towards the end of the bed. With one strong grip at the end of the comforter, I yank the sheets off his body before turning towards the curtain clad windows.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He screeches, trying to pull the blankets back up to cover himself from the cold air of the room. That was nothing. “Hey! What the hell is this, Rogers?” I pull the curtains open; the intense sunlight illuminates the room causing even me to briefly squint.

After successfully finding a single blanket to cover back up with, I notice the fact that Barnes had curled himself into a human ball in the middle of his mattress to block out the light.

“Oh, for fucks sake.” I groan, grabbing onto an edge piece of the fabric. “Get up, now!”

I try to yank it off him in one swift motion, again, but he’s faster than I thought. He springs up into a sitting position, latching on to the blanket I almost had off him, commencing a tug-of-war over the stupid thing. The muscles and veins in his arms flex and bulge, and in normal situations, I’d be impressed. But I’m getting irritated.

“You’re an absolute child.” I grunt as I fight with him.

“Let go, you heathen.” He counters.

At his command, I let go, causing him to fly backwards and bounce slightly on the mattress.

“Dangerous mob boss my ass.” I chide, crossing my arms as he just looks at me with disbelief.

“What do you want, Fury?” He groans, rubbing his eyes.

“Too much for you to comprehend at the moment but let’s start with this. How about you get your head out of your ass, get out of bed, and do your damn job?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand, Fury. And you’re crossing a line here. Get out.”

“It’s Maximoff to you right now. And what don’t I understand, Barnes?” I ask, ignoring his other remark.

“You have some nerve, coming here, into my room. Now get out.” He growls, tossing the blanket away, exposing me to the fact that he sleeps only in a pair of boxers. Damn, suits really don’t do his body justice, but damn does he look good in either.

“You have some nerve thinking this doesn’t concern me.” I snap back, regaining my focus, glad he didn’t catch me staring or was too annoyed to notice.

“And how,” He starts, finally standing up and slowly walking towards me, “Does this concern you?”

His muscles bulge as he crosses his arms, stopping at the foot of his massive king-sized bed. Though, there is an unsway of his body, and the shakiness that was in his hands that doesn’t evade my attention. Where I once noticed stubble, an unkept beard lies in its place. His hair looks knotted, unwashed, and greasy. Overall, he looks like an absolute train wreck.

“How does it not? Furthermore, how does it not concern you?! Barnes when did you last have a full meal, let alone showered!?” I exclaim, looking him over more closely. I can barely see the fact that he’s lost weight, but it’s there, it’s noticeable. The lack of a hot shower is more than just noticeable though.

He scoffs again.

“This is none of your business. Leave.”

“Stop being so fucking defensive with me. And this is my damn business, or have you forgotten the deal you have with my father? With Brooklyn on uneasy ground, especially after losing their last leader, you’re a target for HYDRA to attack. Not to mention the threat of the other mafia clans. And you know damn well that if my father has any idea that your alliance will cost him more than benefit him, he’ll watch you be fed to the sharks. But it just so happens that his daughter is in your territory, which gives you just a bit more wiggle room. However, if you put me in danger, he won’t just watch, he’ll feed you to the damn sharks himself!”

“I know!” He yells, walking closer to me.

“Then start acting like it.” I hiss.

“You don’t understand!” He argues, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Understand what?!”

“I can’t do this without him!”

The room falls into silence, and I stare at him, stunned.

“Okay? I can’t do this without my father. Yes, he’d been preparing me for years. But I always knew I could get advice from him or help if I needed it, once I took over. But this, all of this. I don’t know how to lead my men; I don’t know how prepare us. I don’t even have time to grieve the fact my father, not my boss, is gone forever, and I don’t know how to do this without him.” He chuckles dryly, hands on his hips. “I told you, you wouldn’t understand.” And he’s turning away from me.

“You’re wrong.” I cringe at how shaky and quiet my voice comes out.

“What?”

“You’re wrong.” I repeat firmly. “To think I don’t understand.” The sting of tears forming in my eyes has me pausing to close them and take a deep breath.

When I open them again, Barnes faces me properly with a look of confusion and mild concern.

“No one knows exactly what to do in these situations. But from one ally to another, you have your training, and the people you trust to help you figure it out. And you have your friends. It might not always work the way you planned, but nothing ever really does. You aren’t the only one grieving the death of your father, the men also adored him. Keep that in mind.” I pause, watching him work through what I said to him. “But don’t you dare ever assume I don’t understand grief.” I sneer. “Or how to continue on with the weight of it constantly on my shoulders. You don’t know me. So don’t act like you do.” He gapes at me, like a fish. “Get your shit together Barnes, and get to work.”

I walk out of his room as quickly as I can, letting the door slam behind me. Two corners later and I finally let myself slump against the wall. I gasp for air I didn’t know I needed as I fight back the tears trying to escape. It’s been six months! It was just a stupid dream! Get it together!

When my breathing returns to normal, I pull out my phone. The message from the unsaved number glares at me as I ignore it, again, and type out a message to another party.

“Meet me at the shore this afternoon. More details will be given soon. Bring the info you have gathered and don’t tell the boss.”

The response is almost immediate.

“Understood. He’s getting antsy about the report...”

I groan to myself as I push off the wall. He’ll just have to wait longer.

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

The zippers of my backpack nearly shriek as I pull both of them together quickly. I’ve been frustrated with my more legal job before, but this is something different.

Why the fuck are they making me go to a check in with the case officer this early? A month! I’m supposed to have a month to gain traction and trust in the role they requested of me! They should know that it isn’t safe to possibly expose an undercover operative at all, why would they risk it this early on?!

I growl to myself under my breath as I lace up my boots, aggravated that they’re risking the objective of this mission. If I get made, my father will also lose the alliance, HYDRA might learn of my role in the government and go into hiding, and that’s a lot of fuck up that doesn’t need to happen. Gonzales better either know what he’s doing or have good intel for me.

I swing the backpack up on my shoulder, just as someone knocks on the door.

“Give me a second.” I call, letting the pack flop onto my bed.

I’m surprised to find Natasha on the other side of the door, waiting with her arms crossed patiently.

“Come on in.” I say before she can speak, nodding to the inside of my room.

She raises an eyebrow in suspicion but walks in anyways. She turns to face me just and the door closes.

“All I was going to say was that Barnes is requesting everyone to head to the warehouse, but I’m guessing there’s something else?”

I nod. “I got called for a check in.” I tell her with an eyebrow raised, not needing to tell her who I’m referring to.

“This soon?”

“I’m hoping to get something worth the risk for this, but my gut says otherwise.”

She hums to herself in thought as she processes.

“I can get you a cover this time.” She states sharply. “But they need to get their act together. The cover might work just enough, but there are still people in here who don’t trust you, yet.”

“They might never.” I shrug. “But I agree with your risk assessment. I’m prepared to chew out whoever it is.”

She smirks, then motions towards my door. “Get to the warehouse and leave your things here for now. I’ll make the arrangements.”

I give her a small smile before we’re both walking off in different directions.

The warehouse is packed with people, many of which I don’t recognize, all of whom are engaging in loud conversations. I begin to push my way through the crowd, though I don’t make it too far as I feel a hand grab onto my arm. When I turn towards the pull, Drax smiles at me, motioning for me to follow him. I laugh quietly to myself as people practically jump out of Drax’s way. When we stop, I spot Carol not too far away and walk over to her.

“For the record,” She says, not even looking at me. “This is odd for us too.”

“Is this everyone?” I ask, confused.

She scoffs. “No, there are still those on patrols or jobs that aren’t here. But I’m sure they’ll be brought up to speed, on whatever this is, later.”

I hum as an answer, my eyes scanning the crowd of faces, seeing who I’ll recognize. I just make out Rollins’ silhouette as the voices begin to fall silent. Barnes stands in front of the gathering on a small platform, Rogers and Wilson flank him on either side. He looked a lot better than what I saw earlier. His beard trimmed back to a five o’clock shadow, his hair washed, brushed, and tied into a small bun behind his head, and there was strength in his body showing that he was able to eat since I last saw him. If I hadn’t seen him this morning, I wouldn’t have believed anything was wrong in the first place.

Standing behind the three mafia men, I see Barton, the two Odinson brothers, and five other men and one woman that I don’t recognize. Natasha casually merges in with the group at the last second.

“Many of you have taken note of my absence recently.” Barnes starts talking, his voice booming across the warehouse, commanding everyone’s full attention. It sends a thrill down my spine that I suppress. “And I am aware of the rumors that have been spreading regarding such absence.

“I was reminded earlier today that I was as close to my father as he was with many of you, maybe just a little closer. And yes, I’ve been grieving. But that grief has not blinded me to the enemy that is still out there, just as it has not blinded you.

“The enemy that has let their guard down because HYDRA thinks it has weakened us!” Grumbles of disapproval make him pause. “But they have not weakened us! This clan, this family, is not weakened by the grief of our leader. We are angered, enraged, that they dare try to cross us.” He pauses, listening to the murmurs of agreement of his people. “They have no idea what awaits them. Since the fall of George Barnes, they’ve expected us to kneel before them, begging for mercy. But they will be the ones begging. Their days are number because we will find them, and we will bury every last one of them as we watch HYDRA burn!”

The men begin to shout out their support, the roar almost sounds deafening to my ears, but I follow their lead, yelling with them. Barnes holds up his hand, and the crowd silences.

“Get a move on. We have work to do.” The warehouse erupts in applause, shouts of affirmation, threats to HYDRA, and anything of the sort.

The men begin to clear out of the warehouse, and Carol motions for me to follow her before walking towards Barnes.

“It’s good to see you again, boss.” She tells him with a smile, one he reciprocates before glancing at me. “I was wondering if I’d be able to take new girl around for a drive. Just to show her around our territory.”

“That’ll have to wait, Danvers.” Natasha cuts in, before turning to me. “Let’s go.”

She’s walking away before Barnes or Danvers, who both share a curious glance with me, can say anything. I only slightly hesitate before hurrying after her.

“Thank you.” I mutter once we’re out of the warehouse.

“Don’t thank me, yet. The boss will have questions.”

“Hopefully it’ll be worth it. If it isn’t, I’m gonna chew out whatever unlucky soul is sent.”

“I have no doubt of that.” She replies, and I can hear a hint of a smirk in her voice.

We near one of the doors that serve as an exit to the base, and I see my backpack sitting at the bottom of it.

“Know you way around?” She asks as I swing the backpack over my shoulder.

“Well enough. It shouldn’t be too hard.” I say, shrugging.

“Good. If you do get lost, call me,” She hands me a piece of paper with a number on it. “And I’ll sent someone for you. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I nod, folding the paper up and slipping it in the back pocket of my jeans.

She nods back, then walks away. I take a deep breath before throwing the door open and walking out in the direction of the nearest subway. When I’m a decent way away from the warehouse, I pull out my phone.

“Brooklyn Bridge Park, Pier 2, two hours.” I press send on the text before placing a call, one I admittedly should have done earlier.

“About damn time!” I cringe at the tone in his voice but carry on as if I didn’t piss him off.

“I thought I wouldn’t have any contact with the Family. But everything’s going well. There was a slight issue, but I handled it and everything’s back to the way it should be.” I say over the noise of the street traffic.

“What issue? And why are you calling in public?”

“I was called in.” I grumble into the phone.

“Already?”

“Yes, but I swear if this is a waste of time, whoever I’m meeting is getting an earful.”

“I’d be concerned if they didn’t. But what issue?”

“It’s been fixed, it doesn’t matter, but I need a copy of the contract.” I state firmly, hopefully distracting him from the other thing.

“Y/N, you know-”

“Father!” I take a breath, so I don’t start arguing with him in public. “I need that copy. If I’m going to be doing this, I need to know every single condition, and every term.”

The other end of the line is silent, and I know he’s thinking things over.

“Alright. But in turn, when I ask for an update, you give me one that fucking day. Understood?”

“Yes.” I mumble, hating feeling like a scolded child.

“Good.”

“I’m getting on the subway, I have to go.”

“I expect an update tomorrow.”

“Yes sir.” I hang up the phone and let out a deep sigh before walking down the stairs.

As the subway approaches, my phone chimes and I glance at the text.

“Understood. I’ll see you there.”

The meeting place my case officer chose, a quaint little coffee shop, is two blocks away from my stop. The amount of people on the sidewalks has me wishing for my bike as I squeeze in between people, and there are several times I wished to shove the slow walkers out of my way when I couldn’t pass. Honestly being stuck in traffic was a bit more enjoyable to being stuck behind of group of gossiping women.

I come up to the corner of the street, where the shop is located, and spot its cute little sign. As I cross the street, I happen to take a glance in the window and immediately find a face I recognize.

“You got to be shitting me.” I growl to myself.

The door chimes as I walk through, and I head towards the table.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I grumble as I take a seat, using the heel of my boot to put pressure on the toes of his foot.

“Right, well,” He coughs, covering up a wince as he pulls his foot away from mine. I smirk to myself. “Considering I called for this, I’m not really surprised.”

“Ward, you son of a bitch.” I hiss, quiet enough not to draw attention, as I kick his shin sharply. “You’re an idiot. You better have a good reason for doing this Grant.”

He visibly winces and adjusts himself before clearing his throat to address me.

“As your case officer, I don’t need to explain this to you.”

“You do when you compromise my position. This was way too early!” I hiss before clearing my throat, remember not to cause a scene. “Do you have information for me or not?”

“We’ll get to that in a second. Look, if Skye was still alive, she’d want-”

“Yeah, well she’s not here. How does your new girlfriend, what was it, Kara, feel about you still being hung up on your dead ex?”

“Do not bring her into this.” He hisses, before straightening up and burying any hint of annoyance until there is barely any emotion visible on his face. I hate when he does this, it unnerves me how easy it is for him each time. “Here.” He states before putting a thin file on the table for me to grab. “This is everything that we’ve been able to find out about them recently.”

I swipe it off the tabletop and gently toss it into my backpack, without opening the folder.

“Hopefully, I don’t see you again anytime soon. This better not become a regular thing with you.” I mumble before getting up and ordering a cup of coffee to-go.

As I walk out of the store, I almost bump into a blonde woman that was on her phone. Luckily for both of us, the coffee didn’t spill. After a few seconds of hurried apologies, and foreign curse words on her end, I hurry to the station, hoping I won’t have to wait that long for my ride.

When I get to the park, I decide to wander around for a little bit. It feels good to be out in fresh air inside of being inside a building for the entire day. The clouds look fluffy and soft, the breeze is cool on my face, and the sun feels just warm enough to enjoy without sweating to death. I stop once I get to Pier 2 and just find myself leaning on the railing of the pier, looking out onto the river and the skyscrapers on the other side.

While I wait, I decide to enter Natasha’s number into my phone, then letting the piece of paper fall into the water of the river, the safest way to dispose of it. After I can no longer see the white of the paper, I return my gaze to my father’s city.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you like this.”

“Like what?” I ask, looking towards the voice.

“Content. Happy, even just a little bit.” She says with a small smile while moving to stand beside me.

“It’s the little things like this that make me happy, May. It helps me forget about the mess that is my life, even just for a few minutes.”

She hums and we just stand in silence for a moment.

“What have you been able to find?” I ask, breaking the silence and going into business mode.

“Not much. I doubt it’ll be much help to you.”

“A little may be what I need. I still have some of her research. At this point I just need anything on him.”

“Having nightmares about her again?” She asks, concerned.

It causes me to smile, even just a little bit. Sure, my father hired her, but she has always remained loyal to me, more so than to the family. Though, I have no doubt that if she had any concern about me, she’d go talk to my father.

“More like memories. Still, they leave me feeling restless because I haven’t been able to find a lead on this guy. Skye was getting close, I know that. Which is the only explanation as to why she was killed.”

She hums again. “Still not planning on telling your father?”

I scoff. “After he basically called me paranoid for looking into Ward? No. If he finds out I haven’t let this go like he thinks, he’s going to ask questions. Questions I’m not ready to answer. Not only that, but if he finds out I contacted you while on assignment, I’d get my head chewed off. I’m technically not even allowed to contact him, yet here we all are.”

She nods with a slight chuckle, then pulls a file out from underneath her jacket and hands it to me.

“I’ll keep checking in with my contacts on the street to see if anything new about him surfaces, but until then, this is all I have.”

I stare at the closed file for a moment, before sliding that into my backpack as well.

“Thank you again, May.” She smiles briefly before nodding.

“You should get out of here, before anyone questions why you’ve been gone for a while.” I nod and push away from the railing. “Oh, and Y/N?” I turn back around. “Stay safe.”

“You too, May.” I call back, walking away.

A flash of blonde hair in the corner of my eye has me pause for a second, but when I see nothing, I shrug to myself and keep going. It must have been in my head.

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

The door to my room shuts and I feel my body sag from the exhaustion of the day. I let my backpack slip to the ground with a soft thud and shuffle towards my bed. When my back meets the cool sheets of the mattress, a deep sigh escapes my lips and I close my eyes, finally enjoying a bit of rest. But, there’s a knock at my door that has me groaning loudly.

“Of course.” I grumble under my breath.

When I open the door, I’m very surprised to find Thor standing on the other side with a slight scowl on his face.

“Follow me.”

I do so, hesitantly, letting the door slowly click shut before catching up to him. The walk is silent, and for some reason, I feel uneasy for the first time since I walked in here. He leads me through the halls, and I find myself recognizing where we are going. James Barnes’ office.

Thor opens the door and motions for me to step inside, and I do, trying to maintain a façade of confidence. And I’m grateful for it, because the glare Barnes wears as he watches me enter almost has me reeling backwards. He sits behind his desk, looking regal, deadly, and in charge. No trace of friendliness shows on his face.

What really throws me for a loop is the petite redhead curled on his lap, her well-manicured nails raking through his hair in almost a possessive manner. The sight makes something churn uncomfortably in my stomach, and by the smirk on her face, she knows it too.

I look away from her, finding Rogers and Wilson in their places behind Barnes, leaning against the wall. Natasha stands off to the right, near the only window in the office.

“Dot, leave.” He says stiffly, not removing his gaze from mine.

“But Bucky Boo-”

“Now.” He growls, ignoring her high-shrieked protest. This is the infamous Barnes I’ve heard about on the streets.

She huffs in irritation, untangling herself from Barnes’ lap and starts stomping out of the room like a child throwing a small tantrum. She brushes past me, giving me the death glare on her way. I simply raise an eyebrow at her retreating form until the door shuts behind her.

“Lovely person, Bucky Boo.” I mutter under my breath, turning back around. “I haven’t looked at the information I was given, yet. I only just got back to the compound.” I say to Barnes, assuming that’s what got him so miffed.

“How was the meeting?” He asks, completely ignoring my remark, irritation still evident.

“I wanted to shove Ward’s head through the window only a few times. So, fairly well, I guess. Still pissed off he’s assigned as my case officer though.” I shrug still not seeing the point of this.

I see Barnes’ eye twitch and hear the soft click of the door closing. I turn around to see the blonde that I almost walked into on the sidewalk from earlier, and everything falls into place. With a click of my tongue in understanding, I turn back around towards Barnes.

“You had me followed.” I state.

“Yelena Belova, Nat’s sister, was sent to keep an eye on you. Make sure you stayed safe.”

“Hmmm. Interesting.” I hum towards the ground, frustrated that I didn’t see that coming earlier, as my hands find purchase on my hips, my nails digging into the fabric of my shirt.

“Imagine my surprise when I got a message saying you weren’t on your way back after the drop off, but was going to meet someone else.”

“Yeah, and I’m not telling you why.” I fire back stubbornly, my hands still on my waist.

Barnes blinks rapidly, shocked, because I didn’t deny it, that I said no to him so easily, or maybe because of something else completely. Whatever the reason, he recovers quickly. A scowl now twisting up his features.

“We had a deal with your f-”

“I’m not the one that needs reminder of that deal, it seems.” I snap. “What I did today, was for reasons you aren’t entitled to.” His scowl deepens. “Now, I could give you some information about it. If you were to tell me something in return.”

“And what’s that?” He growls, but willing to play my game.

“The last crate I picked up on my assignment.” Recognition dances over his eyes. “Yeah, it’s about that. Tell me what was in there because I know for a fact it wasn’t the shit on the manifest. That was just a cover. You tell me what the shipment was, and I’ll tell you what I was given.”

He clenches his jaw, but doesn’t say a word. I wait for a moment before nodding, more to myself than him.

“You’ll get the info the Bureau sent me, once I make sure it’s actually useful.”

I turn and exit the office quickly, no one saying a word to me before the door closes. My nails dig into my palms as I stomp back to my room, pissed off at the day I’ve had. My door slams shut, and I begin pacing the floor of my room. Anger flows through my veins like a fire that can’t be stopped. I had at least thought I was gaining some ground with Barnes and even some of the others, but apparently not. The only reason he let me go free is because of that stupid deal.

One thing’s certain after tonight, though. James Barnes is not to be trusted.

Part 7

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#marvel #my writing #writers on tumblr #writers #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #hbc bucky barnes appreciation days #mob!bucky #mobster bucky #mob!bucky x reader #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #carol danvers

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letsgivethisonemoreshot · 3 years ago

Text

Hot Sauce Inspiration

So, one day I was eating Taco Bell. And they have these little sayings on their hot sauce packets. I looked at one, and the phrase caused a little story to pop into my head and I texted it to a friend. Then another packet inspired another part. So I went to look at the rest and see if any others could spark anything in my weird brain, and here we are. The packets are bolded. This thirst trap was sponsored by Taco Bell. Practice safe eating. Use condiments.

Word Count: 1,797

Warnings: Language, mentions of sexual situations

You were known around the locker room for having a bit of an attitude. Not that you were a bully, but if there was something you wanted to say, most times you didn’t hold back where others would. Some would say you lacked a filter. Others would say you’re outspoken. You said that you just told the truth, and if people didn’t like that about you they could go screw themselves. It didn’t stop you from making friends, far from it. But it did rub some the wrong way.

You were currently in a hallway, still in your ring gear from your earlier match talking with Alexa Bliss. She was someone who you had gotten really close too. You had a lot in common which made you great travel buddies and had yet to get tired of spending so much time with each other. Somehow your conversation steered to making fun of Drew McIntyre. Again. He seemed to be one of your favorite people to rip on as of late. There was just something about him that got under your skin. Lately he had really become a leader in the locker room. Taking people under his wing, making sure they stayed out of trouble, helping them out. Which was great, but it never seemed to stop. He was the adult version of a goody two shoes and at times he kind of made you want to throw up. Not that you hid that. You’ve said it to people before. He’d probably even been around to hear it himself. He knew you talked about him. However, you weren’t aware that his match had finished, and he was now backstage, walking up behind you.

He startled you by clearing his throat behind you. You turned around to see him standing opening a water bottle as sweat dripped down his chest.

“You know it’s rude to interrupt people,” You shot at him. “What do you want?”

“You know it’s rude to talk about people behind their back,” He retorted, taking a swig of his water.

“Get lost McIntyre,” You rolled your eyes.

“Are ya sure you want me to lass?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “I mean you do an awful lot of talking about someone you claim to not be fond of.”

Alexa, sensing the tension in the air, excused herself to go and “get ready for her match”, leaving the two alone. You scoffed.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You know, if there’s something you want to talk to me about, I’m right here.”

You barely let him finish his sentence before you started speaking. “Nope. Not too fond of you. Don’t need you. You can go find someone else around here to go and “help out” and play the fatherly figure to. I don’t have daddy issues. I’m good.”

Drew chuckles, leaning in a bit closer to you . His voice now deeper, and in a much more serious tone than he usually used.

“You keep telling yourself that princess. But we both know I can have you begging and calling me Daddy by the end of the night.”

“In your dreams McIntyre,” You said pushing passed him before he was able to see how flushed your cheeks had gotten at his comment.

He smirked before drinking his water again. “We’ll see about that,” He said to himself as he watched you walk away.

You spent the rest of the night trying to avoid Drew. You didn’t want any further interaction with him. He may act nice, but he was just a big old brute trying to abuse his power. And you would rather die than admit seeing him all sweaty and acting in charge actually turned you on. Once the show was over, you wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. You were dressed and ready to go, standing by the back door with your suitcase waiting for Alexa. You weren’t completely alone though. The hustle and bustle of the crew members packing everything up and your co-workers were leaving and wandering around the area. You tapped your foot impatiently while looking through your phone waiting for your friend. You had tuned out all of the noise around you and hadn’t realized someone had walked up behind you. Only noticing when the wheels of their suitcase came to a stop. You could sense who it was without turning around. His presence shadowing over you. He wasn’t touching you. He didn’t say anything to you. He wasn’t even making any effort to actually tell you that he was there, other than being a little too close. Doing it purposely to annoy you.

“Can you back up a step or two McIntyre? You’re in my personal space,” You said without taking your eyes off of your phone.

He chuckled deeply. “Don’t kid yourself. You know you want me in your personal space.”

“Seriously, my perfume is rather expensive and I’d rather smell like it than whatever you had for dinner and are breathing on me.”

“What crawled up your ass today princess? You’re even more vile than usual.”

You sighed, trying to show disgust at the nickname he always chose to call you. Just the tone in how he said it gave you goosebumps. “Can you stop calling me that? I do have a name you know.”

“I think I see the problem,” He said, ignoring you as he leaned down closer so that no one else would be able to hear what he said. “It’s that no one has crawled up your ass in a while, isn’t it?”

Your eyes grew wide at his comment. Thankfully he couldn’t see that. You felt your cheeks getting warmed as you awkwardly shuffled from one foot to another. Drew had never come back at you like this before, and you couldn’t believe that he had said what he did with other people around.

“You are disgusting McIntyre. So much for being a gentleman,” You finally brought yourself to say.

“I’m a gentleman to those who deserve it. You princess, do not deserve it. You seem to like to aggravate me and bring the ungentlemanly side out of me.”

“Or maybe deep down you’re just a nasty guy who isn’t as nice as everyone thinks?” You suggest, trying to sound unphased even though your heart is beating so fast you can hear it in your ears.

Drew smirked behind you. “Whatever you need to tell yourself lass. But if you feel like not being such a bitch anymore and getting the attitude fucked out of you, a little birdie told me we were staying at the same hotel tonight. I’m in room 224. Don’t take too long. I won’t wait forever.”

You couldn’t stop fidgeting around in the car ride to the hotel. You hadn’t been paying any attention to what Alexa was saying. If she was even talking, she could have just been singing along with her music for all you knew. The only thing that was playing in your head was Drew’s sudden change of character towards you. You wanted to be so annoyed at him, walking around thinking he was God’s gift to the wrestling world and all women. The frustrating, stupid, sexy Scotsman.

No wait, you didn’t mean to think that.

Even when you got to the hotel room, you weren’t able to settle down. You couldn’t stay in one place. You’d wander around the room, looking out the window, going into the bathroom and sorting things. Eventually, Alexa asked you what was wrong knowing this wasn’t usual behavior for you.

“Nothing. I’m just restless,” You lied. I’ve spent three of the last four days scrunched inside a car. I just need some air. I think I’m gonna go out for a jog. I’ll try and shower quietly when I get back if you’re asleep.”

You grabbed your hotel key and walked towards the door.

“Okay, thanks. But I want details in the morning,” Alexa smiled as you reached the doorknob.

You didn’t reply to her before leaving the room. You couldn’t verbally admit that she was right about what she was insinuating. In face, you were already mentally yelling at yourself for even considering it. But that didn’t stop your legs from continuing to walk to the elevator. You were thankful the hallway was empty when you stepped off of the elevator. The last thing you wanted was anyone to see you. But you still hesitated once you got to his door, debating on turning around and going back to your own room. But after a moment, you knocked. It didn’t take long for Drew to open the door. Once he saw it was you, he smirked and leaned against the door frame.

“What brings you here princess? Couldn’t sleep?”

You were conflicted. You made it all the way down here. And now you would like for him to let you inside before someone can see you outside of his hotel room at 12:30 in the morning. But, at the same time, that would mean you were inside of Drew’s room. A thought that still made your stomach jump. Finally your mouth was able to speak up, throwing out one of your normal sarcastic replies.

“Are you man enough to help me out with my problem or not McIntyre?” You asked as you crossed your arms over your chest.

Drew dropped his head, slightly laughing before stepping aside and allowing you to enter the room. You walked in, holding your head high, hoping you were coming across as being confident. Because at the moment it felt like your bones were about to turn to jelly and you’d just melt into the floor. You still couldn’t believe that you were here. Because he brought it up. And some part of you thought it was a good idea.

You watched stoically as he shut and locked the door before turning around to you. He pulled his shirt off as he walked closer to you in the dimly lit room. If only he knew just how many times you had fallen asleep at night to this scenario playing in your head. He stopped in front of you. You looked up into his eyes and saw them turn to an icy blue. The energy about him had changed. He wasn’t the charming goofball he usually was. And it was turning all of your bad energy to mush.

“Just so you know, I don’t plan on being gentle with you princess. I’m going to play with you until you break and finally learn some manners, understand? If that’s not something you’re up for, the door is right there. I suggest you use it now.”

For the first time, you spoke to him in a shaky whisper, “I’m okay with that”.

#drew mcintyre #drew mcintyre x reader #drew mcintyre oneshot #drew mcintyre fanfic #wwe fanfiction #drew mcintyre fanfiction #drew galloway #drew mcintyre imagine

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dodo-begone · 4 years ago

Note

ALRIGHTY! LOYAL HERE COMING IN WITH THE CIRCUS HAHAHA

Btw, I’m like 90% sure that I fell asleep while writing so it just stops. Like, there’s no ending/summary/whatever word I’m looking for but can’t think of at the moment and my bird is currently chewing on my phone case oh my god can she please stop—

__________________

I believe the concept of yanderes ft. a isekai-d reader has been mentioned by Shepard and her anons, tho it’s been mainly for Origins SMP. So, I come to you with ideas for the Dream SMP because that’s all I’m familiar with HAHAH—

Also, I apologize in advance because this thing is borderline an essay with how long it is. I’m so sorry—

For example *cue dramatic lighting and a cheesy flashback monologue thingie* oh my god I think I’m losing it, I’m so tired

Y/n and their younger sibling, Frisk, had just finished up another press conference regarding Monsters being back on the surface. All seems to be going well until the ground beneath their feet vanishes and they fall unconscious a few moments later. When they awaken, they notice they’re surrounded by humans—wait they aren’t all humans, what the fuck, since when are there hybrids? They knew everyone from the underground—by name, no less—and had never heard of any currently living hybrids. Only of ones from before the war. Besides, Monsters have been on the surface for a month at most, so there is no way for... oh boy, their head is spinning.

After some very...tense...introductions (“Hi, I never saw you guys Underground, nor have I heard of you, no offense. So, uh, which monsters are you guys related to?” “OI, I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT TUBBO IS NOT A MONSTER!”) they come to the realization that y/n is most definitely not from this world, or even this universe. Y/n’s adamant refusal to fight the “real monsters” that roam this land (“I did not spend countless timelines weeks putting my life on the line to befriend every monster, break the barrier that trapped them Underground, and defend them against my own god forsaken race just to turn my back on them.”) was a pretty big sign, after all. That, along with species of monsters that the SMP members have never heard of and how y/n talked about Souls as if they were a tangible thing.

It’s a rocky start before any sort of friendship is formed: y/n, wanting to be cautious, (and also not having Sans there to CHECK for them) decides to ask everyone what their LV is. It’s risky, and they had no way to prove if anyone is (or isn’t) telling the truth, but it was worth a shot. “Our levels?” A small goat hybrid asked, his head slightly tilting to the side. Everyone assumes that y/n is talking about enchantment levels. “I’m at 26! Ranboo, you’re at 30, right?” “I’m at 37 now, actually.” “Well, I’M at 58. Clearly I’m the superior one here. A real big man, a very manly man, aren’t I?” And a few others pipe in. Color drains from y/n’s face and they take a few steps back, hands shaking as their eyes dart between each person in the room and the exit. ‘How many lives have they each taken to make their LOVE so high? Why do they seem so proud of it?’ Yeah... that was an interesting experience.

- even though they have been reassured multiple times that the monsters of this world are nothing like the ones from their home, y/n still refuses to kill a single one, as I had mentioned earlier. They also refuse to kill animals. It takes a couple tries at explaining LV or LOVE—Level Of ViolencE—along with EXP—EXecution Points—but eventually everyone is on the same page

- Y/n is hesitant to bring out their SOUL when asked. First off, though they’re now friends with those from the Underground, they can’t help but be reminded of every spear, knife, bone, petal, gaster blaster, and fireball that has been aimed at them with the intent to kill whenever their SOUL was drawn into an encounter back then. Second of all, showing your SOUL is something you do with those you trust with your life—after all, you’re literally putting your lifeline out on display when you do so. There are so many different ways that the SMP members can see it

- Perhaps a monster appears

- Eggpire or Dream attack

- Someone forces y/n into an encounter because everyone is too curious to just let this opportunity slip by

- When y/n discovers that the people of this land have more than one life, they’re confused. There is no way that all of these people have SOULS of Determination, and there’d definitely be some issues if people kept rewinding time to their last save point. Besides, only one Determination SOUL—the strongest one—should be able to respawn. Then again, they only know what Frisk had explained to them. They were never able to see the save stars that Frisk would interact with in the different sections of the Underground. So they only have so much to go off of.

- Battle for them is completely different. Despite being in a different world, the mechanics from their world still apply. They can FIGHT, ACT, use an ITEM or show MERCY.

- They use Frisk’s tactic and flirt their way out of a fight or two. They never understood why Frisk did it until now... ‘I mean, I...wow. That was actually effective.’ They’re impressed.

- Oh no, maybe that wasn’t the best idea...they might have some yanderes after them bc of it...

- They probably have accidentally called Philza ‘Asgore’ and Tubbo ‘Asriel’ because both hybrids remind her of the two males from her world. Similar personalities AND Tubbo is a goat hybrid. The poor child is going to be so confused

- If Tubbo’s a yandere oh boy it’s going to be so easy for him. Y/n will probably be constantly at his side and telling him stories about the first fallen child and how they were adopted by the royal family, who are goat monsters! And just explaining the history of the underground and how important the goat family is. Talks about Asriel a lot as well. Probably makes him butterscotch cinnamon pie and tries to recreate golden flower tea to share with him as well. Or, they do that and he’s not yandere and it’s just wholesome.

- If we follow the headcanons that some fans have made, perhaps Frisk (and/or y/n) gave up half of their SOUL to give to either (or both) Chara or Asriel so they’d have another chance at life

- Not only does y/n refuse to kill, which leaves them vulnerable, they also only have half a SOUL, which means they’re incredibly weak. Someone needs to protect them, someone needs to keep them safe, someone needs to—

- Y/n is incredibly agile thanks to all the battles they’ve faced Underground. With their SOUL always out in the open during an encounter and the fact that they refuse to harm anyone, it’s required. I’m imagining them moving like a dancer, using jumps and spins to help them avoid any weapons swung at them.

- This is gonna be annoying for any yandere that wishes to lock y/n up. Even if they won’t physically hurt someone, they WILL put up a fight and make it as hard as they possibly can to be dragged into isolation or imprisonment

- When it comes to who goes yandere, I believe what color of SOUL y/n has (their personality, in summary) would play a big role. Here’s a few of my ideas, feel free to move people around or add to it, I’m really tired and can’t think of many characters LOL

- Red (determination): Wilbur, Technoblade

- Orange (bravery): Technoblade, Dream, Tommy

- Yellow (justice): Sam, Technoblade

- Green (kindness): the kids of the server, Fundy, and Ghostbur

- Cyan (patience): Ranboo, Ghostbur, Karl

- Dark blue (integrity): Tubbo, Philza, Sam

- Purple (perseverance): Dream—this man would love to see how long it would take for your perseverance to run out. I wouldn’t be surprised if your perseverance is the only reason he’s interested.

__________________

From what I saw of the end of what I wrote, it is DEFINITELY cut short. At least I mentioned every SOUL type lolol.

Also, I found a whole other note that’s a continuation of this concept but for y/n being from another game what the hell was I doing—

Expect that to come in another ask once I eat dinner

Sorry i took so long to answer!! I kept getting distracted!

That stuff is so pog man!!!! Puffy might be called “Toriel” once in a while because mom energy and she sheep,,, close to goat!

Gosh all the flirting will bring in so many yanderes or make ppl like “yo wtf??” And there’s a very small amount that are inbetween.

OKAY BUT WITH THE MONSTER STUFF ON THE DSMP- they’d keep the monsters in their house. They’d give them food and everything. Some def become very friendly and will defend. Haha giant spider go prrrrrr

I’d write more but there is so much amazing stuff I don’t think I could add to some of them anyways!!! Plus my mind is just racing other places rn haha

#ask #loyal anon #tw: yandere #rambling with dodo #c: tubbo #c: wilbur #c: techno #c: dream #c: tommy #c: ranboo #c: ghostbur #c: karl #c: philza #c: sam

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ahtsumu · 4 years ago

Text

cOuNtRy BoY i LoVe YoUuU–– miya atsumu.

GENERAL HEADCANONS

☆ y’know that kid everyone hates but all the parents love? that’s miya atsumu for you

he’s such a mama’s boy ugh

she’ll see him with mud all over his jeans and be like “miya atsumu! what’d i tell you ‘bout goin’ muddin’!?” and he’s like “sorry ma! just got too excited”

and what’s she gonna do? nothing. absolutely nothing. she just laughs and shake her head because atsumu’s boyish charm is adorable

osamu hates this !!! they’re always competing for mama miya’s heart LOL

☆ says “mornin’ ma'am how’s your day been so far” to the gas station lady and then roasts the life out of his friends

anyone older than 30 adores atsumu to death and anyone his age thinks he’s the annoying dumb hot guy LMAO

☆ plays quarterback on the football team and he’s damn good at what he does !! he’s taken the team to nationals three times already and he’s hoping to end senior year with a first place trophy

☆ teachers also love him to death bc he’s such a sweet-talker and asking questions as if he actually cares about differential equations and antiderivatives but nooo LOL bby’s just trying to make the GPA cut for travelling

it’s a 2.2

☆ on days without practice he’ll hang out around the school parking lot with the Gang™, leaning against his pick-up truck and blasting music from his car speakers to look “cool”

rlly he’s just wasting his time and even his friends think it’s stupid asf like omg no one is looking. atsumu how r u not embarrassed

☆ drives stick shift and thinks he’s hot shit 😭😭😭 he’s not wrong it is hot tho

☆ plays country trap around the boys

when “old town road” first dropped lil nas x was on repeat for 2 months

atsumu has a playlist of EVERY SINGLE REMIX and he’s like “they’re differENT juSt liSTen!!!”

out of all of the boys he has the WORST taste in country music it’s deadass just lil nas x, florida georgia line, luke combs, and morgan wallen

sometimes he’ll spice it up with a little luke bryan but that’s pushing it 😭

his guilty pleasure is that one farmer song by lil tracy and lil uzi vert

do not trust him with the aux

someone come collect him pls

☆ atsumu’s favourite southern meal undoubtedly has meat in it–– ribs, fried chicken, pulled pork, you name it

but he’s weak for peach cobbler and a side of vanilla ice cream for dessert bc homeboy’s got a massive sweet tooth

☆ he may be helpful in helping out with farmwork but this boy cannot fish to save his life

he has a picture of him holding a MASSIVE trout on his instagram and tinder (which he downloaded illegally for his ego lmfao) but really osamu caught it for dinner one night while camping and atsumu stole it for a 30 second photo

☆ owns camouflage but ironically !

whips it out on days he thinks suna might pull up in camo

why? no one knows. it cracks him up tho LMFAO

☆ atsumu actually dresses quite well–– his style is the typical southern prep:

a pair of jeans/shorts and a crisp button-up paired with double monks

loves a good leather belt

his favourite leather is BROWN leather, thank you very much !

☆ owns cowboy boots and he’s so proud of them

they’re steel-toed and decorated by a simple stitch pattern but it gets all the city folks fawning over him so it’s his most prized possession

HE USES THEM TO IMPRESS CITY FOLK LOL he’s like “howdy” and they’re like 😍🤤😍🤤😍🤤

flirts by asking if they’d like to see his horse i––

☆ like his twin, atsumu is undoubtedly great with animals

dogs love him !! like they’re just naturally attracted to him plus he gets so smiley and happy around them

he was probably a golden retriever in a past life lmfaoo

he’s a phenomenal horse-rider too

he rides the horses out at night bc he just loves the wind in his face,,, like a dog

where he differs from osamu is that he hates the actual work of taking care of an animal lmao

☆ works a summer job at six flags because he loves going on rides for free he’s so cute ugh

DATING HEADCANONS

☆ aside from football atsumu also starts the inarizaki high school slam poetry club, which is, coincidentally, also just the entire football team

listen it’s rlly cute how the slam poetry club was founded ok don’t laugh

after developing a massive crush on you, atsumu realises that he’s got too much of a meathead reputation to stand a chance LOL so he goes out of his way seem more “intellectual”

basically he’s like “i’m gonna venture into poetry bc girls love sensitive guys” and convinces the entire football team to host slam poetry nights in hopes you’ll show up at the shows

he starts leaving little poems in your locker and it’s like rupi kaur shit 😭

“you’re the brightest rose

in this garden

and you

don’t

even

know.

---a.m.”

☆ anyway you don’t even show up to the slam nights (you have ✨taste✨) but you do show up to his games!

☆ and eventually he works up the courage to actually ask you out and ofc you say yes bc he does it in such a cute way ugh

he stops you in the parking lot after a game and goes like “hey, uh, yer in my econ class and all yer comments are always so funny and..” and he’s just word-vomiting and eventually he gets to the point where he’s like “anyway i was wonderin’ if yer free friday night?”

☆ your first date is actually at an empty field near school

you’re just talking and getting to know each other better in the back of his pick-up truck under a bright moon, covered in blankets, each of you cradling a hot mug of cider

it’s kinda chilly but atsumu is literally a furnace

and atsumu just opens up the notes app on his phone and he reads you six poems and they’re all like 4 lines with weird enjambment HAHAHA

“you look.

just like the moon.

---a.m.”

most of his lines are actually plagiarised from popular country songs and you definitely recognise them but he just looks so darn cute awh you can’t rlly call him out rn (but you definitely do later in your relationship)

around two hours into the date he’s like “actually i’m the president of the slam poetry club” and you’re like “oh that’s cool!” (no it’s not omg ur praying he doesn’t start slamming right then and there bc you’ve heard rumours of what horrors the club has produced)

☆ if you like driving be prepared to Not Drive once you start dating atsumu (... or at least drive Less Frequently… unless you cut him a deal of some sort...)

he LOVES picking you up for school and this is the only time he’ll change the music playing in his car !!

he puts on the little playlist he made just for you and it’s got songs like:

cruise by florida georgia line (he literally always runs up to you and randomly sings “baby you a song” 😭)

burnin’ it down by jason aldean

play it again by luke bryan

but your song is “our song” by taylor swift ugh he knows every single line and he’s been dreaming of having a relationship like the one she describes ever since it dropped

ps: he’s actually the world’s biggest swiftie and thinks her earliest albums were the best

he got osamu on board too LMAO they go to her concerts whenever she visits their state. now you do too!!

☆ always drives with one hand on your thigh bc he’s just like that 🥰

☆ tried to learn how to play the guitar to serenade you but it was a miserable fail (he just can’t do the barre chords bc they’re so hard and what for !!)

☆ he’s such a good line-dancer tho

he’ll take you out to dance and it’s just such a vibe to see him smiling under lights, spinning you around at the barn dance with the goofiest smile on his face

☆ any time you guys fight or argue he’ll head out to the pasture behind his house and brood under the moon in the back of his pick-up truck LOL he’s so dramatic but it’s so cute!!

#miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu hcs #miya atsumu headcanons #haikyuu!!

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jamilelucato · 4 years ago

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Hi there! Could I maybe get a fred Weasley x Romanian!Reader and maybe like she goes to the burrow for the holidays? She could try to confess to him by telling him he loves him in Romanian but always telling him it means sth else. But she doesn't know about Charlie and the fact that he used to live there, and then... y'know, up to you? Just thought this was an interesting idea lmaoo. Thank you and congrats!!🥺💕

Te Iubesc [F.W.]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Romanian!reader (can be from any House really)

A/N: I ended up changing a bit of your context and only noticed it later, and I’m really sorry for that. Instead of she saying it all the time, she accidentally confesses it in Romanian. I'm sorry it's not what you actually asked for, but I hope you enjoy it either way.

Send a request! || Harry Potter Masterlist || Musical Hogwarts Series

It was particularly weird being a Romanian at Hogwarts, but since it was your parents’ dream to you study there, you were not to complain.

It took you a while to find your place, but it was way easy when the famous Weasley Twins played a prank on you.

When your whole body turned blue, and you ran around the corridors of Hogwarts, asking, angrily, if anyone had seen who could be guilty of it — you knew it could only have been the twins. They appeared two hours later in front of you, with puckered foreheads and using minimal eye contact. One of them had a flask, and he handed it to you.

“We’re really sorry,” he said, with an almost smile, but not of happiness. He wouldn’t dare laugh at your blue skin while you stared at him with a killer expression. “It wasn’t for you; we mixed it up in the deliver.”

“And what is this?” you asked, raising the flask closer to your eyes to analyze it better.

“The antidote,” one of them said.

“You don’t want to be forever blue, do you?” asked the other and they both giggled.

You drank all the liquid in one gulp, desperate to go back to your natural colour. The twins stared at you while your body changed its colour, and you couldn’t see the point. What did they want? Thanks?

“Are you two expecting me to thank you?” you asked, with a mean voice.

They exchanged looks before smiling.

“No, we just would like to introduce ourselves, that’s all,” said the one that had more freckles.

“You’re Fred and George Weasley, everyone knows who you are,” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. You saw their eyes following your arms, and then they blushed. You chuckled at those boys stupidity.

“But do you know which is which?” he continued, smirking. “I’m Fred,” he whispered, tipping you since you hadn’t answered his question.

“I’m George,” said the other.

You took a great look at both of their faces, making sure you discerned things that would make it easier to differentiate them. Fred had a better posture, nothing very perfect, but just slightly better than George. And he had more freckles, at least on his face he did.

“I’m y/N,” you said, noticing they were waiting for you to present yourself.

And that was enough for a born of a beautiful friendship.

The pranks still got you, those times on purpose, but they all gave you a break when you asked. You started helping them with their homework and study for exams — even though they hated it.

You lost track of how many vacation days you spent in the Burrow, and this year, you were going back there. You were especially excited this year — and partly worried — because, since the beginning of the sixth year, you’ve been developing an enormous, gigantic crush on Fred.

So, spending the Christmas holiday with the Weasleys, having Fred next to you all weekend, was going to be awesome, but also terrifying because he had no idea you fancied him — and you wanted things to still be like that.

Fred was known to have had tons of girlfriends — he usually told you everything about every girl he ever snogged. You didn’t want to be just another one that he would abandon in a month. That would completely ruin your friendship, and that meant being apart from a ton of other friends. Being friends with the twins allowed you to befriend Ginny, Ron, Hermione and Harry, and now they are essential in your life too.

“Hi, dear!” Molly hugged you tightly as soon as you stepped in the kitchen. You hugged her back once your shock passed. “I’m so happy to have you here for another year; surely I can’t stand my kids saying again I have a terrible taste for music.”

Oh, yeah, one fact: every Weasley kid (in particular Fred) hated your taste in music. They hated it because you loved the same singers as their mom did, and Fred disliked it the most. As more annoyed he got by your singing, more you sang.

“By the way,” you smiled, “you’ll love the present I got you. I know I shouldn’t say something yet,” you leaned in Mrs Weasley’s ear and whispered: “but I just wanna make sure you haven’t got Warbeck’s newest CD, have you?”

Molly Weasley gasped in surprise and hugged you even tighter.

“That’s why you’re my favourite!” she muttered in your ear and winked when you leaned away and faced her.

Blushing, you went upstairs to find the room Molly always left for you — it was Charlie’s old room. It was the closest to the twins, so you liked it. And the place was decorated with old faded posters of creatures only your home country could offer.

You’ve never met Charlie Weasley, only Bill and Percy, but you knew he was fascinated with dragons, and that your country had to offer.

You lost a couple of minutes staring at one of the posters; not for the dragon, but because of the background — your old but forever home.

When you got out of the room, you didn’t even need to wander around to find the twins.

“y/N! You came!” shouted an excited Fred Weasley, getting you by your waist and spinning you around in a hug.

George was right next to his twin, rolling his eyes at how foolishly obvious you two were about fancying each other, but none would move a finger to change the situation.

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you say when Fred finally puts you down. “Hey, George!”

George hugs you too, but not with the same passion as Fred. It makes you wonder if it was your fault somehow to why Fred spun you around. You should have gone with a simple embrace like you’re doing with George. Gosh, why having a crush has to be so hard?

“So, we’re planning a Quidditch game in the yard. You in?” Fred asked as soon as George released you.

“Sure,” you smiled, placing your hands on your waist. “But I’m seeker,” you warned, raising a brow.

“Harry will love to hear that,” George commented.

“And I need a broom,” you added, tilting your head, trying to look pity-worth.

“You can take mine,” Fred said while you three headed downstairs.

You stopped right away. George kept walking, and suddenly it was just you and Fred in the middle of the stairs.

“You’re gonna use your old one? No way; that thing sucks, Fred,” you said.

“But a seeker needs a better broom than a beater,” he pointed out, tilting his head towards you and some red locks fell upon his eyes. Instinctively, you reached for them and took away from his eyes. He blushed with a small smile.

“You’re too nice to me,” you said, nodding and starting to walk again.

“Perhaps you deserve it,” he muttered, half-hoping you wouldn’t hear, and half-hoping you would.

Fred has been playing this dangerous game for a while now — plainly flirting with you, expecting that if you didn’t see him that way, you would take it as a joke.

When the game finally started, you were glad to be in Fred’s team. Some arrangements had to be done to accommodate less than the minimum number of players per team, so instead of two beaters, your team had only Fred.

Ginny was your keeper; even though she hated the position, she was proving to be quite good at it. Of course, Ron, on the other side, was being way better.

The disadvantage for you was that although you are a great seeker, you had to be also a good chaser, because your team had only three players with you, so that left you with two jobs. Fred helped as much as he could, but he was more used to his role as a beater than to play a chaser.

When George’s team won — Harry got the Snitch (I mean, come on, how to compete?) — you were completely dirty.

You’d never tell Fred, but George was a better beater than the twin, so you’d been hit more times than you would’ve liked and ended up rolling on the grass, still wet from the rain the night before, enough times that your pants (which were blue jeans) were now the colour of mud.

None of this was bothering you, however. You were, in fact, laughing at yourself and everyone who was also dirty. Hermione had arrived in time to watch the last minutes of the match, but she was now trapped in the kitchen, with Ron and Harry filling her with bizarre theories. George and Ginny had run off right after the victory celebration, to see who could get to the shower first.

Although you have no idea how long you would still have to stay dirty, showering was your last concern. At the moment, you were occupied in trying to smudge Fred even more, while both rolled on the grass like two crazy kids.

It felt like a tickling and laughing competition — what you were competing about was uncertain, however, you were definitely competing because Fred wasn’t leaving you alone and you were loving it.

“Thanks for the match, Fred,” you said the instant you were able to breathe without laughing. You were propped up on your right elbow, which raised your head enough so that you could see the redhead’s face, who was looking at the sun that was already hiding behind the clouds. “You could have left me; it was clear that I was going to lose.”

“Give it up then, y/N. I’ll never leave you,” he replied, looking sideways at you and looking back at the setting sun.

You took a deep breath, enchanted by his beauty and his words. When you realized you had already said: “Te iubesc.”

Fred turned quickly at you, frowning. “Did you say something?”

You gulped, as red as one can get and quickly got up. You had just said you loved him, thankfully in Romanian, but still... Close call.

“I’m heading to the shower,” for the first time that late afternoon, you were urgent to get cleaned up.

“I don’t think George — or Ginny, whoever got there first — is done yet,” Fred said, sitting down on the grass.

“Doesn’t matter,” you pretended to laugh it off and rushed inside the Burrow, leaving a confuse Fred behind.

Well, not so confused. Fred was almost certain you said “te iubesc” to him, and he was sure that was something in Romanian. He knew you were from there, and he always waited for the moment you would let a Romanian dialect, word or accent slip, but that day never came — until now.

He waited for this moment because he made Charlie teach him some primary words, so he could reply with a ”yes”, “no” or simply “Nu mai esti în România.”

Although at the top of his head, your words didn’t click in his head as nothing he knew the meaning, he had a feeling he had heard it before. He could ask Charlie, but knowing the family owl, it would take Fred a week to learn the meaning.

He waited a while before heading to the kitchen, where he found a distracted Harry, a sceptical Hermione and his younger brother, Ron, eating, as always.

“Ron?”

“Huh?” Ron let out between bites.

“Have you seen Mum?” Fred asked.

“I think she’s doing laundry,” Ron answered. “Why?”

“Wanted to ask her something, that’s all,” Fred was already turning away when Hermione called.

“Perhaps I can help. What’s it?”

“Nosy,” grunted Ron, but the girl didn’t hear.

“It’s a phrase in Romanian. Somehow, I think I heard Charlie say it to Mum once,” Fred shrugged, assuming Hermione wouldn’t be able to help with that.

“Your mom keeps a Romanian dictionary in the living room. Over the fireplace,” Hermione said as if it was nothing — as if the whole family knew about it.

Fred raised his brows, suddenly excited. “Thanks, Hermione,” he mumbled before rushing to the fire to get the book.

After some minutes with it, Fred was about to give up. The dictionary was no help with phrases; it was only good for random words alone.

“Mum!” he exclaimed in surprise and relief when Molly walked in, holding a basket of clean clothes.

“Fred!” she exclaimed back. She wasn’t used with her kids that excited to see her.

“Last time Charlie was here, he was using a lot of Romanian dialects,” Fred started, not sure of how to proceed.

“Yes,” his mother simply said.

“And he said something to you after hugging you. Did he translate?”

“Oh! Te iubesc?” Molly definitely was not used to Romanian — in Fred opinion her accent was terrible compared to yours, but the words were apparently the same, so he didn’t complain.

“That’s it! What does it mean?” Fred jumped from the couch towards his mother.

“It means I love you. Your brother is such a sweetie,” Molly smiled with the memory — she missed all her kids, but most especially Charlie and Bill.

Mrs Weasley was so distracted by the memory of the last hug she gave her son, that she left the room without lingering with her older twin son. She didn’t seem to notice that Fred was paralyzed in place, relying on the sofa to keep him upright.

Fred couldn’t think — he was silly, completely silly. As crude as the adjective was, that was how he felt. He was happy, of course, he was!

You had practically declared yourself to him, and yet you had done so in innocence, using your mother tongue, which, in Fred’s opinion, only proved how true you were.

He had to do something about it. But what? It’d be ridiculous to use your words to reciprocate the statement — Fred wouldn’t be able to copy the accent well enough to make the sentence natural.

Something told him that he should act naturally about it and wait for your confession in English, which would mean that you really wanted him to understand.

But then, how to look at you again and ignore that the most beautiful girl in the world, the friendliest, the funniest, the most talented, had said that she loved him? How would he ever go back to acting normally knowing that the only girl he ever loved— that he always hoped would be his— loved him?

Taking a deep breath, Fred came to an inevitable conclusion: he needed to be the one who would confess his feelings. Now he just needs a plan to how to do it.

After a long wait, it was finally your time with the shower, and you hoped it would clean not only your skin but also your thoughts.

So close, so close you came of confessing to Fred. Well, you actually did it, but in Romanian, so he’ll never know it.

You needed to distract yourself from Fred Weasley, but after that shower, everywhere you looked, there he was.

Fred was outside of the bathroom, waiting for his turn to shower. You greeted him with a yellow smile before rushing back to your room.

Just an hour before dinner, you were sitting in the living room, and he decided to sit next to you in the couch. Sure a part of you was thrilled, but another was freaking out.

When dinner was ready, he sat next to you again at the table.

When you thought you were about to free yourself from him —leaving quickly from the dinner table and rushing to get the armchair, where you would at least sit alone, he called you out.

“I need to show you...” he looked around before continuing in a whisper, “... a new product.”

You sighed, deciding it was better if you learned how to swallow your feelings and let your love for Fred kill you from inside out.

You two walked to upstairs where he guided you to hs room.

“Where’s George?” you asked once you sat down, remembering that generally, when they had a new product, George was always around to see your reaction too.

Fred just shrugged, almost ignoring your question.

“I have something to tell you,” he said fast, scared he would lose his courage. “And, well, I don’t really know how to do it... You see, I’ve never told a girl I’m in love with her before.”

Fred hadn’t realized that he had just done that, so while he was lost in words, rambling how amazing you were, you were frozen at just the “I’m in love” bit.

“Come again?”

“...should have said it sooner, because I’ve been... — wait, which part do you want me to say again?” he stopped his tracks.

You sighed and looked up from your knees, raising your eyes enough to meet his.

“You love me?”

“Te iubesc, yes,” Fred said. and then he hit himself in the forehead because he had promised he wasn’t going to use Romanian to declare his feelings. “Sorry about the Romanian bit. I love you, yes, that’s what I meant.”

“Wait. You understood me earlier?” your brain was just malfunction at this point, like a broken old computer.

“Not right away...” Fred stopped talking when he noticed you were panicking. “Look, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time now. When you said it first, you just made things easier for me.”

“How did you know?”

“Charlie, my brother. He lives in Romania.”

Damn it, of course, the dragon fanatic would have gone live in your country; why wouldn’t he?

For a few minutes, or at least you guessed it had only been minutes, Fred stood in front of you, who was sitting on his bed, and the two avoided looking at each other for a long time.

“Should’ve guessed. Your mom kept Charlie’s posters of my country in his room,” you tried to laugh it off.

Fred ended up chuckling too. “Can we quit being awkward? I really want to kiss you,” he said, smiling and blushing slightly at the same time. “I mean, my brother will leave the room just to us for not much longer.”

It was your time to chucked while getting up, ready to have Fred’s lips in your for what you hoped would be the first of many times.

“I have a room for my own, silly,” you whispered in his ear before he smirked and trapped you in his embrace.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x romanian reader #george weasley #the burrow #hary potter #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley x you #fred and george weasley #fred and george

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 4 years ago

Text

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.44

Word Count: 2,497

Characters: Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Rafael McCall (mentioned), Chris Argent (brief), Demon!Reader

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, some minor characters death, actual shitty writing

A/N: this is like third-person omniscient sort of but not rly i guess

A/N 2: blech, I still have writer’s block so sorry for this one :/

Masterlist Series Masterlist

“(Y/N), it’s me, again. Call me back if you get this,” there was the 10th voicemail left by Derek, calling you once again.

Stiles was at Eichen House, Scott, Isaac, and Allison were trying to look for some sort of scroll, talking about exorcising the nogitsune out of Stiles. Derek and Chris sat handcuffed in cells, while the entire police department was out looking for you. The two of them stayed there for the day before being released. Derek still had no idea where you were.

Your cellphone soon became out of service, no way of contacting you at all.

“Derek!” Isaac ran into the loft frantically, snapping Derek’s attention away from you for a brief moment.

“What? What is it?”

“(Y/N)’s a demon,” he started.

“What?” Derek tensed up, clenching his jaw as he uncrossed his arms.

“How do you know?” he asked, running to Isaac.

“Because Agent McCall sent deputies out to go look for her, three of them supposedly died from a heart attack,” Isaac explained.

Damn it, Derek thought.

“Well, we need to trap her,” Derek said.

“How?”

“Help me find her spellbook. There’s a way to trap her until we figure out something else…” Derek started, before frowning.

“What book?” Isaac watched as Derek ran across the loft anxiously, looking for an old book of yours. The only possession of yours left.

“(Y/N) planned out a way to trap herself, until we found a cure. It’s in one of her old spell books, but I can’t remember where it is. It has to be somewhere here,” Derek shook his head.

“Well, let’s say we find the book. Do you have an actual plan?” Isaac crossed his arms.

Derek paused, leaning against the counter in distress before frowning, hearing his phone ringing.

“Hello?” he answered.

“I've been trying to get in touch with (Y/N) for some time now. I found a cure,” Derek tensed up, picking up the call from Deucalion.

He looked at Isaac, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What do we need to do?” Derek asked.

“Here’s what needs to happen…”

---

You walked alone in the woods, humming a soft melody as your eyes were black.

You stopped in your tracks, sensing someone behind you and you raised an eyebrow, turning around.

“Yes, officer?” you recognized his badge.

“(Y/N), you have to come with me,” he started.

“Praefoco,” you rolled your eyes, watching him stop in his words, gasping for air as he fell to his knees.

You laughed softly to yourself, walking away from the collapsed body on the floor.

You had killed four more people, experimenting in different ways you could kill people, with your heightened powers. Everything felt better, everything felt free. You didn't have a single care in the world and you loved it.

You stood in front of the Sheriff’s station, using your magic to listen in as you tried to make out who was in there.

“Just find her. I don’t care what it takes,” you heard his voice, hearing him put the phone down.

He was all alone inside. Half the department was out, looking for his mysterious masked stabber, while the other half was looking for you and other missing deputies. A shame they’d only find their bodies.

You could feel more and more anger flood your veins as you took a step, walking into the empty station.

You spotted Agent McCall, sitting alone on his desk as he looked at the paperwork.

You opened your mouth before taken by surprise, feeling some wrap their arm around your waist, pulling you back.

Your eyes glew black as you pushed him off of you, seeing Derek standing behind you.

“Come with me,” he said.

“Oh, you found me. Great,” you said sarcastically.

“Yeah, I did. Now come with me,” he wrapped a pair of handcuffs on your wrists, pulling you out of the police station.

“What the hell are these? What the hell are you doing to me?” you tried to use your powers, trying to break free, but finding yourself unable to do so.

“Yeah, they're spelled. We’re gonna cure you, (Y/N),” he held onto your arm tightly, walking with you as you laughed bitterly.

“Yeah, not possible,” you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well Deucalion found something,” Derek said.

“You’re boring,” you sighed.

He ignored your remarks, taking you to the woods.

---

“You killed four people?” you sat in a chair, your hands and legs tied up behind you. There was a devil’s trap on the ground.

“Is that judgment in your voice, babe?” you scoffed.

“Those four people were innocent,” he shook his head.

“Oh, don’t give me that crap. Like you've never ruined an innocent life before,” you rolled your eyes.

“That's-” he started.

“That bus driver was innocent. That witch was innocent. Paige was innocent. Erica was innocent. Boyd was innocent. Don’t judge me for killing when you’ve killed too,” you glared at him, seeing his face drop slightly as he turned his back to you.

“That’s different,” he said.

“No, it really isn’t,” you made a fake pouty face as he walked over to you, holding a syringe in his hand.

“What the hell is that?” you asked.

He put his hand on your head, pulling it to the side as he stuck the needle into your neck, while you screamed out.

“It’s blood. It’s holy blood, and it’s the only way to cure you,” he replied.

You breathed heavily, slumping in your chair as your eyes glew black.

“You’re gonna regret that,” you yelled.

“Yeah, okay,” he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall as he sighed, looking down at you.

Several thoughts brown through his head, praying that this would work and that you would be okay. He already knew what would happen when you came to, all the nightmares, remembering all the people who you killed as they haunted your dreams.

“Derek,” you whispered.

He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow as he frowned, seeing your eyes water.

“(Y/N)?” he asked softly.

“Derek,” you sniffled.

He tensed up, seeing a tear slip down your face as he ran to you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“I-I didn’t… I thought I’d need to do that a couple of times, i-is it… are you okay?” he immediately asked.

“Just get these off of me,” you said.

He stroked your cheek softly, before frowning.

Crap, he knew

“Derek, take these off of me,” you said.

“I almost fell for it,” he scoffed, before walking away from you.

“Ugh, I was close, wasn’t I? But really, that’s all it took? A tear? Weaker than I thought, Hale,” you smirked.

He picked up his book, leaning against the wall once more.

It was going to be a long night.

---

“Why do you care so much about getting me back? New and improved right here,” you laid back in the chair, leaning your head back.

“Improved? People are dead,” he walked to you, holding yet another syringe in his hand.

It was obvious that he wanted out of there. Tired of putting up with your tormenting remarks about him. You never seemed to give him a break, continuously insulting him. He tried to tell himself that you didn't mean it, it was the demon talking. You loved him and you would never say that stuff to him. As time went on, it became harder and harder for him to convince himself. But he still wasn’t going to leave you to suffer.

“Everything that you claim is wrong with me, is entirely your fault,” you said as he froze.

“What do you mean?” he stiffened.

“I lost control because of you. I killed my dad because of you. This whole thing started because of you. Don’t you remember that night? When I came to your loft? Don't you remember what you said to me?” Derek felt instant regret in his heart, remembering.

“You told me you never loved me, we only got together because we were lonely. Well, you were right, Derek. I never loved you. I never forgave you. We weren't meant to last.”

Derek ran his fingers through his hair, trying to hold in his emotions as he tried not to let your words get to him.

“I didn't mean what I said. I was under a spell,” he started, lowering his voice.

“That spell cost lives. That spell widowed a woman and orphaned her children,” Derek frowned, slightly confused.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked.

“Oh, right, I didn’t tell you. Yeah, my dad got remarried! To someone else, and he had some more kids. He left us in the dust, all alone, all fucked up,” you laughed softly.

“You didn't tell me that-” he started.

“Probably because I don’t still don’t trust you,” you shrugged.

“That’s not…” Derek was at a loss for words as he looked down at you.

“You broke my heart, Derek. You broke me. I won’t be able to trust you again,” you looked at him, giving him an annoyed look before smirking.

“Oh, I’m getting to you, aren’t I? You know I'm right, Derek,” you laughed bitterly.

He clenched his jaw, grabbing your head as he stabbed the syringe into your neck, hearing you scream out in pain as he dug his nails into his palm.

He pushed away from you harshly, immediately leaving the room before a tear fell from his eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

She doesn't mean it he tried to convince himself, but it didn't matter. Deep down he knew you were right, he never wanted to admit it to himself. You would be better off without him.

---

Derek’s head shot up, hearing a loud noise of something crashing. He ran into the house, immediately running to you, hearing someone yelling.

Isaac, he recognized.

You stood over him, as he dropped to his knees in front of you, struggling to breathe.

“(Y/N)!” he ran to you, grabbing the handcuffs before you pushed them away from him.

“I warned you,” your eyes were pitch black as Isaac whimpered softly, falling over to his side, unconscious. Derek could hear a faint heartbeat, knowing Isaac was alive.

You whispered something softly, as Derek struggled to move, finding himself pinned against the wall.

You grabbed the pocketknife, which sat on the table as you walked to Derek slowly.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long,” you held the knife against his throat as he clenched his jaw, looking down at you.

“Don’t do this (Y/N). I know you’re still in there somewhere. The real you, not this demon bitch,” he took a deep breath.

“I am (Y/N), Derek. This is me. I’ll save you the trouble of having to see me like this anymore,” he winced softly, feeling the blade break into his skin, drawing blood.

“Yeah, maybe not,” Derek heard Isaac’s voice, as he took a needle, stabbing it into your neck.

You dropped the knife, as Derek gasped for air, falling to his knees. Your eyes reverted back to their natural color, as your body went limp, falling over.

Isaac reached for Derek, helping him up before wrapping his arms around him, taking Derek by surprise. He stiffened first, before wrapping his arms around Isaac’s shaking body.

---

You squinted your eyes, groaning softly as you sat up, looking around cautiously.

Memories came flooding as your eyes watered, remembering everything.

“(Y/N),” you heard Derek’s voice as you jumped slightly, looking back at him in shock.

A son escaped from your mouth, before he wrapped his arms around you, pressing his lips to your head, trying to calm you.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you cried.

He remained quiet, his eyes red as he felt a tear stream down his cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

---

Your mind drifted off, remembering the events from the past day as you sat on Derek’s bed, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He lent you a shirt, seeing as all your other clothes were gone.

“Derek,” you said softly as he walked into the room.

He inhaled softly, sitting down next to you.

“Please, just say something,” your voice wavered slightly.

“I have nothing to say,” he whispered.

“I know you do. Just, please,” you begged.

“I just…” his voice drifted off as he shook his head.

“Derek,” you put your hand on his shoulder.

“We need to stop this,” he said, running his fingers through his hair as he turned to face you.

“Stop what?” you said, although you already knew the answer.

“This isn’t good for us anymore, I think we should call it,” Derek’s eyes watered slightly as he stood up, looking down at you.

“Derek, no-” you started.

“I love you, (Y/N), you know that I love you. But, I don’t… I don’t think you’ve ever loved me as much as I love you,” his voice was low as he looked away from you.

“No, Derek, I-I swear that’s not true,” you shook your head.

“(Y/N),” he started.

“It’s not true, you have to believe me. E-Everything I said, I didn't mean it, I swear,” your voice wavered as you looked up at him.

“You didn't say anything that wasn’t true,” he rubbed his eyes as he looked back at you.

“Derek,” you started.

“J-Just listen to me, (Y/N),” his voice broke as he looked at you.

“We don’t work together. We always argue, there’s always something in between us. We tried to tell ourselves we could get past it, but we can’t,” he said.

“We can get past it. We just have a few problems to work out,” you sniffled.

“Do you trust me?” he asked softly.

“W-What do you mean? O-Of course I do,” you let out a soft chuckle, trying to hide your tears as you frowned.

“Don’t lie to me, please (Y/N). Do you or do you not trust me,” he asked again.

“Derek, I do,” you replied, more and more tears streaming down your face.

“Then why didn't you tell me any of this before? About your dad and his family? That it was my fault you killed him in the first place?”

You bit your lip, holding back your cries as you shook your head, putting your hand over your mouth.

“Exactly. You need to… You need to go,” he whispered, looking away from you.

You could feel your heart aching, feeling your head pounding as more and more tears rushed to your eyes, blurring your vision.

You pushed yourself out of his room, running away.

---

You knocked at Chris’ door softly, blinking back your tears as he gave you a concerned look, opening the door.

“(Y/N)? Where have you been?” he asked.

Your vision blurred as more tears came to your eyes

“C-Can I stay with you?” you cried softly.

He nodded his head, wrapping his arms around you before leading you into the apartment.

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seventfics · 3 years ago

Photo

Lionhearted

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Talking in your Sleep Relationships: Cirilla/Morvran Voorhis (+ background Emhyr/Geralt) Rating: T Content Warnings: None Summary: Before her future reign can begin, Cirilla has to commit to the trust exercise that is an arranged marriage. If only her sleep would be peaceful.

Read on AO3

* * *

“...Cirilla?”

Ciri stirs fully awake at a gentle touch over her shoulder. It is a miracle she does not lash out instinctively and break something. Her limbs feel tight, aching by how tense they’d become in sleep. The faint shadows of a nightmare still dance behind her eyes. She hears the clopping of hooves, the horses of the Wild Hunt approaching—the cold blast of winter hits her as if naked in the snow.

Pure imagination. The bedroom is warm-lit by a hearth. It is summer, and she is safe. She is more than safe.

The touch that rose her pulls her back from the lingering vision of doom. She turns to light eyes, pinched in worry.

“Sorry..." She draws the sheets closer, her wild hair a fan over her face. The room is warm, but a chill runs under her skin all the same. "Did I disturb you?”

Morvran studies her. He sits a comfortable distance away from her. The monstrously-large bed makes that easy. “Not really.”

Slowly, her muscles unwind from their tense curl. A minute passes, and she’s tired again. “Don’t let me keep you awake,” she says rolling on her side, and then, almost a whisper, “you know, you can call me Ciri.”

* * *

The final battle is over. It has been for a peaceful few years. And yet, her mind stays restless, ready for the next enemy to come tearing through her life. So far it’s only been arrogant old men with predictable ambitions, which is pitiful compared to the ageless Aen Elle that had chased her through time and space, and the world-ending White Frost waiting at the end of it all. Really, they should step up their game if they want to make her sweat.

Her dreams made of frost and blood do most of the work for them. It's inescapable. Exhausting.

Every time she wakes from snow clogging her lungs, she sees Morvran had stirred awake in the night, and she apologizes with genuine-felt guilt.

Her husband is always polite about it, which is hard for her to accept at first. Experience tells her to expect a confrontation, or a fight about affecting him with her sleeplessness. But Morvran—she discovers quickly into their spousal arrangement—is quiet company, even if sometimes he seems a little on edge himself. A soldier's nervousness lies behind his gaze. The General without a war to fight. At least she’s not the only one struggling with peacetime.

They say that marriage forges a bond between two souls. That is what her father—of all people—tells her on one of their joint-breakfast mornings.

“There is a responsibility there," Emhyr says with enviable composure. "He is the only one’s opinion you must consult and rely on with matters of state.”

Ciri nearly scoffs. “Not even yours then?”

“Not even mine. Do you not trust him?”

She thinks long after that, a little angry with his nonchalance. Of course she doesn't. Of course it's not that easy. Ask any other lady or princess what their marriage gave them and see if any one of them bring up the word trust. Her father is biased. His own marriage had been sown by destiny's hand.

And yet, after the whispers of dark dreams rouse her at night, she does trust Morvran to be near, to remind her with his presence that she is no longer a child running from great and powerful enemies anymore. She is the daughter of the Black Sun. Nothing can touch her now.

Would be nice to sleep well again on her own soon, though.

Emhyr accepts her silence and sips his tea while it is still warm. He doesn't say anything about the dark circles under her eyes, and she doesn't talk about why they're there.

Geralt visits not a day after, the first time after her marriage, and he sure won't let it go unaddressed.

“I'm fine, Geralt. Haven’t slept well is all.”

That is all she's willing to say, not wanting to bother him too much when he'd arrived so happy to greet her. But it’s Geralt. He knows her better than anyone. Better than she knows herself.

"Haven't slept? You know what that does to your clarity of mind. And are you doing anything about it? Is it the mattress? I tell you, they make them too soft in the south. You need a little firmness to stop you when you're tossing..."

His fussing calms her heart. The opposite would be just as true. If he panics, all her own worries neutralize as she remembers how to think straight for him. They are each other's pillars.

So he frets, and she waves him off, feeling a little better by the second.

Tea together in the garden is a relaxing surprise activity with him, although now that he's brought up the topic of modern furniture and poor craftsmanship, Geralt is grouching about how uncomfortable the chairs are.

“They’re meant to keep your spine straight," she says, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, and it’s crap. Doesn’t fit all of me.”

“That’s because you’re carrying fifty pounds of armor and steel. You might not want to rest all your weight on it actually.”

Geralt purposely leans back on his chair, the wood giving an alarming creak. “Are you calling me fat?”

She laughs at him so hard the Impera keeping guard from the garden's entrance twitch their heads to them. They act like a sign of joy from her is a terrifying dragon come to burn the palace down.

“I miss that,” Geralt mutters with a fake pout.

“What? My laughter?”

“Your…ease with it. I know being empress is nothing to scoff at." At the mention of her future court, Ciri touches her imperial diadem—both a symbol of her patrimony and a wedding band. Geralt tracks the gesture. The sigh he gives is heavy and long. "I mean, shit, this whole marriage thing attached to it isn’t what either of us planned for."

The metal warms under her rubbing thumb. "None of what's happened in our journey ever has been."

A witcher's path is unpredictable. One lives by the day and learns to adapt to what comes. And she's doing that still. Adapting like a witcheress. Soon, she'll have to start thinking more like an empress.

"The General," Geralt starts, and she refocuses on him and the serious set of his brow. "He’s a good man at least. A little…eccentric I think, but he is one of the better ones in Emhyr’s court.”

Now it's her turn to grumble, “I know. It’s annoying. I wish I could have a reason to hate him but he’s so…ugh, mannerly!”

This time Geralt laughs, and for a moment, Ciri is a witcher’s child in the wilds again, punting her father’s shoulder for a dumb joke he's pulled at her expense.

She stops suddenly when a familiar figure, all shoulders and dark colors to contrast his light hair, comes through the garden gates. 'Speak of the devil' might be a rude thought to have, yet it perfectly encapsulates how luck draws its cards on her this morning.

“Geralt of Rivia!” comes Morvran’s happy voice. “I thought I heard the rumble of bickering servants on the way here. Now I understand what displeased them so.”

“I’m not wearing their black-and-white cotton traps and you can’t make me.”

Ciri blinks between them. It surprises her how well Geralt gets along with him, and how openly joyous Morvran is being about his company—and yes, she would call him joyous even as his face is subtle in expressing it. Breaking courtly address would normally upset her recently-made husband no matter the suspect. And yet Geralt, who does not mean to do it intentionally, receives no such berating speeches on etiquette and formality. Actually, Morvran shakes his hand the northern way of greeting. Maybe he's good at adapting too.

“Of course not, sir witcher," Morvran says with his other hand raised in acquiescence. "There is no dire interrogation to fulfill at this hour.”

"Don't threaten me with a free clean shave again." To her, he offers a parting, “Alright. I've taken up enough of your time, I’m gonna head out.”

Her heart sinks at the cursory goodbye. This is her father in all but blood leaving her secure little bubble once more, to be a witcher without her. She is not a child anymore—he doesn't ruffle her ashen hair, though she dearly wants him to for old time's sake. It would mess up her diadem and the intricate plaiting of the braids behind her head.

She is not a child anymore, and yet she is already melancholy at the quick turn of his back.

"See you later, Geralt." Her words are a promise. We will see each other again.

As he steps into the flower path that winds back to the guards, Morvran calls out, “His imperial majesty is currently in a meeting.”

Geralt stops. He looks, for some reason, abashed. “What? Why are you telling me that?”

“I thought you would be privy to that information." Morvran shrugs in dismissal. "Va faill."

It's almost funny how fast Geralt stomps out of the garden. As Ciri observes the exchange, all her previous heartache is swept under the rug. There is something she's not picking up. Fortunately it's not all she has to talk about to her present, lingering company.

“It’s weird that you two actually get along.” At her words, Morvran turns to her with open surprise.

“Geralt of Rivia is a genial man," he says, his hands meeting behind his back as is Nilfgaardian custom in public. "I believe anyone would be glad to refresh their acquaintance with him.”

Ciri, who was not raised with said customs and is instead being tutored in them with little success, snorts. Loudly.

“You just like that you can rope him into joining a riding competition on a promise of free food.”

Under all his Nilfgaardian powder, Morvran blushes. She can see it in his ears.

She laughs at him too.

* * *

It’s another night of bad dreams. Her memories have toyed with her enough that now she is witness to futures she cannot control. Geralt alone on the Path, the Empire at war with itself from her negligence, all of her old friends, her family, broken apart and dying as she lives on.

She wakes slowly, not in a startle or a choked breath. Her body aches worse than if she had.

Morvran is already awake beside her, a frown set upon his lips.

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Between waking and the dissipating fear of her nightmare, Ciri is caught completely off guard. “I...didn’t, no.”

He doesn't explain any more, choosing to give her space as he's done for previous interrupted nights. Part of her wants to ask more. She wants to hear what she had said—what nightmare had she been speaking into existence. Did he recognize anything? Did he want to ask, but simply refrain out of properness?

Whatever it is she uttered in fever sleep, she lets it go. Talking about it now would be worse, somehow. Like making her nightmares a real, concrete thing.

Sleep still fights her long into the night. It does not come a second time. Which is good, as she opens her eyes to a timely assassination.

The weapon under her pillow slides into her hand not a breath later. She always keeps something sharp and deadly there. Good habit, both her fathers would say, for different reasons.

Before the assassin can strike, Ciri blinks in between time. They are dead where they stand, frozen mid-step, collapsing the very next instant time moves for her.

In the commotion that follows, everyone wakes. The emperor looks as regal and rested as always and Ciri envies that as her hair resembles a rat’s nest, mussed from the fear-sweat of her haunted sleep. At least Morvran is just as unkempt as her. They make quite the competition for most messy bedhead, side by side. And though the hours stretch on, from private meetings to argued suspicions, Morvran looks in his element. Her element.

Put an enemy in front of them and they will beat it down until it’s rid of.

Her mind is driven to this new task. Securing entry points, questioning any guards that had slack. Her edges feels frayed—sticking to Morvran like a shadow as they move from room to room, servant to official, order to action, way past sunrise. Her angry expression turns any worried servant away from asking for her imperial majesty to eat.

The assassin had tried to kill him. And no one seems to be that concerned since her own head is still attached to her shoulders. Not even Morvran.

Things calm down well past noon. They both return tired and dry-eyed to their arranged room.

She touches his sleeve and holds his weary gaze. “If you die I won’t forgive you.”

Morvran nods, like she makes sense. “I would never plan on it. It would upset your father.”

For a second, Ciri doesn’t know which one he means, and that makes her smile stupidly, at its pure truth.

She wipes her grin off before Morvran has a chance to politely appreciate it.

* * *

“You’re antsy.”

Ciri hums, taking a bite of her deviled eggs. “I'm not antsy.”

“You are bending the good fork.”

She stares down at her hand and finds that Emhyr is right and the fork is just a little twisted at the neck.

"I'm sure someone's job is to fix it. Just, call them."

Nothing in her posture or her expression could possibly tell Emhyr what sits heavy in her head, short of him being a mindreader. And yet, somehow, he pieces everything together correctly to ask, “Would it be so terrible for you to like him?”

Ciri sighs, looking up at the ornate chandelier, begging it to crash down on her and get her out of this conversation. Because she already does like Morvran, quite a lot, and it is terrible. She would hate to admit to her father that he is right. He’ll never live it down.

Of course, she doesn't need to say anything at all. Her godsdamned mind-reading father already knows. When did he learn to read her so effortlessly?

...Has he been consulting Geralt?

However it may be, Emhyr clears his throat and straightens his fork on his side of the breakfast table. “Some people," he says as she sulks internally, "are fortunate and marry the one they love. Others find a way to make it work.”

At his following pause, Ciri straightens in her seat to meet his gaze. His silences are always weighty and grave.

“I hope that he is worth the work,” he ends.

Then the moment passes, and he's eating again. Leaving her to contemplate alone what it means that her father, the emperor, might actually want her to be happy with the man who would share her rule once she is officially crowned. It's...it's trusting. It's too much to think about so early in the morning.

Being who she is, however, Ciri returns to the source of her sulk and the many questions it created.

“So, have you spoken with Geralt?”

Emhyr drinks his tea very slowly. “Of course not. Had he anything important to relay to me?”

“Maybe,” she shrugs. “I'm sure you know he came to visit recently, but you don’t ask me what we talked about?”

“Whatever it is you two get up to does not concern me.”

She hums, sipping her own tea. “It’s funny I guess, I thought you asked of him through Morvran.”

Emhyr sets his cup down, narrowing his eyes in thought. As he studies her, she keeps on sipping her tea until it’s finished. “Just curious,” she adds before parting for the day. Give him something to puzzle over that isn't her.

* * *

'Did you know you talk in your sleep?'

Only two nights of the next seven does she stir awake. Not from bad dreams, exactly. Not from dark memories or anxious fears either. Ciri rubs her face now, frustrated, pulled from sleep again for no apparent reason.

Morvran is awake beside her, as he always is. His face is not pressed with a frown, though. She can't stop thinking on his words so casually spoken the night an assassin tried to take him from her, and settles back onto her enormous pillows.

“...What did I say this time?”

“Oh,” he blinks at her, and it’s sleepy and lazy, not at all very general-like. “Something about a swallow. That you miss it. Did you used to own a bird?”

She closes her eyes briefly, oddly at peace with her sleep talking. He had listened to her secret fears for all these nights, her haunted screams, and made them his own secrets.

If she could trust him to know that, then, it is not so difficult to trust him with the more simple things.

“No. Swallow was the name of my sword. I carried her with me everywhere.”

“Ah. Where is she now?”

“I gave her to Geralt before I came to be here. A witcher’s sword is not something I can wield from a throne.”

He touches his hand to her cheek, the first time he’s breached courtly etiquette with her. It is warm and callused.

“I am confident that sir Geralt keeps Swallow sharp and oiled so that the blade stays strong. I am...sorry,” he says with more awkwardness.

She covers his hand with her own, a little laugh escaping her when he blinks rapidly at her returned touch, like he had not expected it at all. “It's alright. I entrusted her to him.”

Marriage forges a bond between two people.

#morvran x ciri #rarepair summer bingo #tt #myfics

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