#i’ve been. pacing myself. i’ve had them all for weeks but i’ve only let myself read one every once in a while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

finalgilmoregirl · 11 months ago

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a/n : feeling angsty, no gender specified, no y/n.

payday. the day mike looked forward to and also dreaded the most. payday meant he was able to take his hard earned money straight to the bank, where he would cash his check... and then watch his earnings get flushed down the toilet as he made a payment on whatever bill he was behind, which was usually a few…

you knew this dilemma. mike voiced it to you every time he came home from the bank and flopped on the couch as he tried to list off all of the other things he needed to pay for with the little money he had left. now he has been good with budgeting, but there’s only so much you can do when you’re providing for yourself and a growing young girl. you paid for groceries and abby’s clothes every now and then but mike wouldn’t let you do any more, always concerned that he looked like he was asking for handouts.

so you tried to do a nice thing. you did do a nice thing, but to mike it seemed like the complete opposite.

when he had gone to the bank that week and attempted to make a payment on his water and heating bill, the bank teller informed him that it was already paid for.

“what- are you sure?” mike was confused. he knew he was at least two months behind on paying it. he had done the math earlier that week. just as his confusion started to make him spiral he was ripped out of his thoughts by the sound of the bank teller saying your name.

“excuse me?”

“it says here that’s who paid for the bill.”

which is what brought him storming through the door of his home. he tossed his jacket off and onto the back of the couch and began angrily pacing, stewing in his upset.

you playfully chased abby out of her room as you both went to the front room to greet mike.

“hey babe”, you said out of breath, smiling as you both came to a halt. “you okay?”

“abby, could you please go to your room?” mike said calmly, but by the flair of his nostrils and the way he kept a hand on his hip you know something was very wrong.

“why?” abby asked, confused and probably sensing her brother's bad mood as well.

“just go. please.” he repeated, to which the young girl complied, swinging her arms while she walked away.

you turned to him, now concerned. “what’s wro-”

“i went to the bank today.” he interrupted your question, causing you to stand up straighter in surprise. “i tried to pay for the water and heat, but they told me you already did.”

a feeling of anxiety began to creep into your body at his aggressive tone as you looked down to avoid his angry gaze. “yeah, i did.”

“why would you do that?” mike asked, walking so he was in front of you, less than a foot apart. you felt like you were being interrogated.

“i just thought—” you started, but he interrupted you again.

“you thought what? that i couldn’t take care of it myself?”

“n-no i know—” you suddenly became bashful, a little embarrassed even as you thought back to you calling a few days earlier to make the payment.

“cause i don’t need your help. i’ve been doing this on my own for a long time and i don’t need you coming in and acting like—.”

“hey!” it was your turn to interrupt him. you weren’t going to let him take your actions and twist them into something evil. “i live here too mike. forgive me if i want to contribute.”

mike scoffed and turned away for a moment, rubbing his hand over his eyes before he continued. “you know, if i had known you would be so overbearing i would’ve never asked you to move in with me.”

you visibly flinched at that as you felt a sharp pain go through your heart. you don’t know what exactly caused the pain. the comment itself, or the way he said it so nonchalantly, like he truly meant it.

you looked away as you felt your throat constrict. you weren’t going to cry, all that could do in that moment was look like an admission of guilt. even though you know you did nothing wrong.

“well,” you sighed, swallowing the lump you had felt forming. “maybe i shouldn’t have fought so hard to end my lease early.”

you were referring to the weeks you had spent fighting with the landlord of your old apartment building. you and mike had begun the moving process anyway, excited to start the new chapter of your lives together. now here you were four months later, almost ten months into your relationship and you wished you could just walk out of the door and go back to that very apartment like you often did when you and mike would argue early on in your relationship. sure it was lonely, but you just wanted to be away from mike right now. so you did the second best thing and walked out of the living room, trying to find any other place in the house that could serve you peace.

mike felt bad about his choice of words, and about his whole reaction to the situation. it was in your nature to help people in any way you could, but mike didn’t want you to see him as a charity case.

hours passed and he stayed in the living room. laying on the couch with his eyes closed as he tried to rest. hoping sleep could help the situation somehow, clear his head at least. this proved a failure though, as through the thin walls he could hear you in the deathly quiet of the house.

every sniffle made his heart race and every deep breathe you took made him want to wrap you in his arms and whisper gentle words to you. but for the life of him, he couldn’t get himself to get up and find you. too afraid that he’d make things worse.

it wasn’t until he checked his watch and saw it was nearing nine o’ clock that he’d have to talk to you sooner or later. he knew he wasn’t strong enough to go to bed without making things right with you.

he walked to abby’s room first, where she was sat on her bed reading. she’d been in here silently for hours. thinking about how he didn’t even think to check on her after the argument made his stomach turn. she did the same thing when their parents used to fight, keeping quiet and to herself until the storm had passed.

“hey” he said from his spot at the door. “did you eat today?” abby just glanced at him and nodded.

mike went over to sit next to her. “listen” he spoke softly, “we’re okay, alright? don’t worry about whatever you heard. everything’s okay.”

abby just looked at him again and set her book down on her bedside table. she laid down and closed her eyes, signaling she was ready for bed.

after mike gave abby her goodnight kiss and stayed with her until she fell asleep, he quietly left her room, now intending to find you.

he entered your shared bedroom and found that you weren’t there, however from his bedroom window he could see the backyard light was on, giving away your presence.

as he reached the back door, he saw you sat on the steps, with nothing but a thin long sleeve covering your arms against the chilly night. you had to have been there for a while, he thought. he slowly opened the door and a cool breeze hit his face, his hoodie giving him enough warmth to avoid shivering.

his steps were basically silent as he approached you, which is where he noticed the distinct box sat next to you.

a box of cigarettes. mike knew you had smoked before you had started dating. you quit for good when you realized the relationship was getting serious, you knew it was a bad habit. you had tried to quit in the past but your worries got the best of you. but now you had the right motivation, you didn’t want to be a bad influence to abby and mike appreciated that, being supportive in your journey to quit for good. it had been almost six months since you last smoked (cigarettes at least), and now here you were.

mike cleared his throat, “i thought you threw those away.”

you didn’t look at him. you just kept staring out into the view of dewey grass and blowing trees.

after a moment you answered, “don’t worry, i didn’t smoke one.” you looked at him for a second before looking back ahead. “i was just thinking about it.”

mike didn’t know what to say, opting to just take a seat next to you. he continued to study you, taking notice of the puffy rims of your eyes and chapped lips. the cold failed to hide the evidence of your crying.

“i thought it would be a nice thing to do.” you said softly, finally continuing what you were trying to say to him earlier. “you work so hard to take care of us. and i thought it’d be a good way to show my appreciation. to show that you don’t always have to take on every burden on your own.”

mike let out a deep breath and looked up, willing back the tears he felt building up behind his eyes. he knew you meant well. he had known that since the beginning. but he was too stubborn and stupid to accept that sometimes the people that care about him will do things for his own good. he needed you to survive. and you needed him.

“i don’t even know why i said that. about you moving in.” he turned to look at you again. he said your name quietly, almost whisper like. “ever since i’ve known you there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t want to wake up and see your face. you have to know that.”

you finally turned and held his gaze, making the beat of mike’s heart quicken. “i think so. it’s hard to know for sure when you reject my help so often.”

“what do you mean?”

“i want to help your problems mike, not make them worse. that's what i'm here for. i’ve shown you i’m in this for the long run and you know that, but if I'm somehow making things more difficult for you then maybe i should-"

"no no no please. you're not, seriously." mike sounded desperate. and that's because he was. he couldn't lose you over this. "you help me in a about a million different ways every day. and you shouldn't have to use your money to do even more if you don't have to."

you shook your head, looking down again, but mike leaned in closer to keep looking into your eyes. "you shouldn't have to kill yourself trying to provide for her anymore mike. if you really want this to work- then i can't just sit by and watch you take on the pressure alone."

you looked back up and finally into his eyes. you could see the hesitation, the fear he had at the thought of letting you do this and you regretting ever trying to help him.

"please" you pleaded, reaching your hand out and grabbing his where it was placed on his knee. "please let me help you."

mike squeezed your hand back and nodded slowly. he knew you, and he knew you wouldn't regret it.

#mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt angst

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mandarinmoons · 10 months ago

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Heyy! what about Spencer with a super independent reader convinced she doesn't need friends when really she's just been hurt a lot abd Spencer wants to help her? 🥰

Thank you so much for requesting, I hope you enjoy!

A true friend - Spencer Reid

After a long day of sorting through paperwork the last thing you wanted to do was haul the mountains of boxes back to the assigned cabinets, but that was your job and you couldn’t go home before it was all done. You tried to lift one of the crates into your hands, but were instantly brought back down by the force of gravity.

You can do it

Once again you lifted the box in your hands and you made it a few steps before your arms gave in and the box landed on the floor, all of the contents sliding over the office floor. You sighed and cursed in your head as you looked at the mess in front of you, it would probably take another hour for all of this to get cleaned up. Grudgingly you knelt on the floor and began picking up the papers when you felt someone run over to you and swipe the papers from your hands. You looked up with big eyes and saw Spencer neatly putting the papers together.

“Spence it’s fine I-”

“Let me help you.”

You bit your lip and kept quiet as you slowly gathered the files around you and Spencer doing the same at seemingly five times speed. In only about 15 minutes all of the papers were sorted and Spencer helped you carry them back to the office they originally came from. You were surprised he managed to hold onto the heavy boxes due to his boney figure, but you were reminded that the previous week he had tackled an unsub to the ground with ease with only one arm, so the man seemed to be full of surprises.

After the last box was perched back onto its cabinet you looked over at Spencer and felt guilty seeing him be out of breath, “I really appreciate the help. I owe you one.”

Spencer smiled and gave a slight chuckle, “Oh no need to, it’s what friends are for.”

Friends, hearing that word sent a chill down your spine. Usually it was a word that was supposed to bring comfort and happiness, but to you it felt cold and sharp. Spencer noticed your face grow sad and frowned,

“Are you okay?” Your head snapped up and nodded “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks again.”

You walked out of the room at a quick pace and were stopped in your tracks when you felt a hand on your shoulder, “You’re not fine, tell me what’s wrong.”

You looked into Spencer’s eyes and saw the concern in them. You were tired of hiding your anguish, but it felt too hard to open up about it.

“Y/N? Talk to me, please. I want to help.”

Tears pricked in your eyes and you took a shaky breath before wiping at them roughly.

“I just um… I don’t have any friends.”

Spencer’s face dropped at the information, “What do you mean you don’t have any friends?”

You sighed and mentally prepared yourself for the conversation you were about to have, “I’ve just never been good at maintaining friendships. All of my life I’ve had people come in and out of my life and it’s solely been for their own interests and not mine. My last friendship ended so badly that it just made me want to isolate myself, and it’s kind of been that way ever since.”

Spencer nodded and rubbed your shoulder in a comforting manner. You saw the pity in his eyes and wish that you couldn’t. It made you feel weak and you hated it.

“What if I was your friend?”

You looked up at the young man and furrowed your eyebrows, “Why would you-”

“Stop right there. You’re kind, you’re a great listener, you always let me talk to you about anything without interrupting and judging me. Plus, you make great coffee.”

You chuckled, he was right. You always let Spencer come to you and talk about whatever interest he had, whether you had knowledge on the subject or not. Most people would find his chatter off putting, but you found it interesting.

“C’mon Y/N, please, I don’t want to see you hurting.”

It was hard to say no to those puppy dog eyes of his, they reminded you of your first dog and that made it all the more harder. Eventually you cracked a small smile and nodded, “Okay then, I’m all yours now.”

Spencer grinned and pulled you into a warm embrace, “We’re gonna have so much fun, you just wait.”

You can find my masterlist here!

My requests are open so feel free to send one in! (SFW only)

I could possibly write a part 2 for this so if anyone would like one pls let me know! xx

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gaybananabread · 1 year ago

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Hi!!! 💖 If 21 isn’t filled yet for tickletober, do you think you could do ler Asmodeus and lee Fizzarolli from Helluva Boss? The new episode has me craving for some tickle content for them they’re so cute!! Hope you’re well and take all the time you need. 💖

TickleTober Day 21 - New Discovery

Writing this one made me happy. I dunno what it was, but writing the scrunkles just boosted my happy brain chems. I know I’ve been squeaking these in at like 11:50 something at night, but I actually paced myself this week and loved getting this out! Hopefully you like reading this as much as I did writing it. Enjoy!

Lee: Fizzarolli

Ler: Asmodeus

Summary: After a shitty day, Fizz is more than ready for some love from his partner. Ozzie is happy to help, though he does it in his own silly way. After all, what's love without some laughter?

Warnings: swearing (obviously), implied murder (don't worry, they deserve it)! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

Hell's worst kept secret…

Not wrong, but the title still pissed the pair off. Ever since the kidnapping incident, they had been a bit more open with their relationship. They obviously weren't announcing it; all of Hell didn't need to know that Ozzie and an Imp were together. But around the factory and his quarters, the fruits were showing more PDA and less shitty excuses when they were caught.

The workers knew better than to say anything.

Still, the occasional whisper or snide comment outside of Asmodeus's safe zone got the jester's blood boiling. Especially when they were about his man.

"Did you hear about Asmodeus and that little imp? Man, what a way to fall. Never thought the embodiment of Lust would do that to himself." The second demon nodded, smirking. "Oh, Fizzer-something? Yeah, a big rooster and a clown. Sounds like the plot of a shitty porno." "Heh, they kinda are!"

Oho, Fizz wanted to rip their throats out and shove them so far up their-

Whooo-kay. Deep breaths, deep breaths. He promised Asmodeus that he wouldn't let small-minded loudmouths get to him, especially sinners. But they so deserved it, and he was just a few feet away…

They just had to keep talking, though. "And hey, he didn't even pick a working one! The thing's defective! Robotic limbs and shit. Dude really needs higher standards."

That was it. The jester turned, running at them with nothing but rage and hate in his eyes. The dumb fuckheads barely had time to begin a plea before Fizz went to town.

When his Fizzie got home, Ozzie immediately knew something was wrong. His partner’s colorful clothes were coated with black blood. The sin hurried over to him, surveying the imp for injuries before scooping him up into his arms. “Fizzie, babe, what happened?”

Asmodeus’s voice radiated concern, comfort and love for the jester. Fizzarolli couldn’t have gotten any luckier when him and the demon connected for the first time. Or the second. Or the many, many times after that. Eh, who needs labels?

“Some…assholes, spewing shit about you and me. I tried, but…they needed a lesson on how to shut up.” One of the robotic arms was damaged in his fit of rage. Apparently the loudmouthed sinners had a bit of fight in them. Fizz still disposed of the garbage; he just got a bit messy.

Ozzie sighed, nuzzling his feathery head against Fizz’s smooth skin. “Froggie, I love that you wanna defend me, but it’s not worth you getting hurt. I’d take all the shit-talk Hell has to offer if it meant you’d be okay.”

So mushy… The imp rolled his eyes, secretly melting inside at the sweet words. “Alright, alright, I get it. No more fighting over your honor. Tell Hallmark the message worked.”

Then he did Fizzarolli’s most favorite thing ever. He laughed, a deep snort kicking off the rumbling chuckles. Fizz laid his head on Ozzie’s chest, feeling the vibrations and listening to the short burst of amusement. The sin stood, sighing out a final huff before carrying his partner to their bed. It was the only one big enough for Asmodeus, let alone Fizz, to fit.

Following their pattern, Ozzie removed his elaborate suit, slipping on his robe instead. He then helped the jester peel away the blood-stained outfit, quickly drawing a bath for him. They were at the point where it was just second nature; one of them has a bad day, they get a warm bath, cuddles and shitty RomComs until they fall asleep. That day was Fizz’s day to be pampered.

After some calming back rubs in a nice bath, all blood was clean and the imp was feeling a bit better. Ozzie got him a new arm, making sure to give him little forehead kisses as he worked. Finally, they were ready to lay down.

Surprising no one, Ozzie was the big spoon. He hugged Fizz close under the covers, rubbing his back soothingly. The Lust ring’s RomCom channel played distantly on the TV. It was barely a minute before the jester was dozing off. The sin’s touch softened, absentmindedly wandering across Fizzarolli’s bare skin.

His feathery fingers eventually made their way to the imp’s sides. Fizz was drawn from his sleepy stupor by an unexpected buzzing along his side. A feeling he hadn’t felt in quite some time. He squirmed a bit, feeling the fingers go back to his back. The moment he settled back down, however, they returned.

A quick glance at Ozzie’s dreamy expression told him that the sin wasn’t doing it on purpose. The rooster just thought he was giving him soft affections. Sighing, Fizz squirmed again, adjusting himself so the tracing was closer to his lower back. That was apparently a big mistake.

The moment one of the feathery fingers brushed his back, he squeaked, flinching away from the touch. Asmodeus immediately went into Mother Hen mode, lightning his touch and looking for injuries. “Fizzarolli, why didn’t you tell me you hurt yourself? Back injuries are serious!”

Ugh, why did he have to care so much? “I-I didn’t…” The lighter touch was somehow worse, sending a flurry of butterflies to attack his stomach. Fizz’s tail twitched, trying to wag; he made sure to force it still. Unfortunately for him, that also meant he took a small amount of focus off his verbal reactions. The smallest, teensiest little giggle slipped past his lips. Ozzie immediately stilled his fingers; as a sin, he easily heard the noise. Then something clicked.

“Froggie…are you ticklish?” Shit…Fizz tried to run, a burst of adrenaline pulling him from the sleepy peace. Ozzie was on him before he could move an inch. The little imp didn’t stand a chance.

“W-wait! Ozz, don’t you fucking dare!” His robotic arms wrapped around the sin’s body, trying to push him off. That was nearly impossible, as Asmodeus was over four times his size and much stronger than the prosthetics. Still, he could only try.

The rooster smirked, his demeanor doing a complete 180. Ozzie went from concerned and soft to playful and smug in seconds; it was almost scary how fast he could switch like that. “Oooh, babe, I definitely fucking do~”

Before he could get another protest out, ten feathered fingers attacked his torso. Five running along his back, five snaking around to his stomach. In seconds, small giggles slipped past his lips, a blush tinting his scarred cheeks. “N-nohoho! Ohohozzie you dihihick!”

“I know it’s one of your favorite features, but let’s leave my dick out of this.” Stupid, cheesy words; it was unfair how blushy they made him. Fizz tried to wiggle away, but even with his insane flexibility, Ozzie’s strong arms kept him trapped.

He twisted and kicked, his limbs swinging and flailing as he tried to escape. He didn’t fully mind the tickling, but Fizz had an image to protect. The amazing, alluring, ass-kicking Fizzarolli couldn’t be seen getting reduced to a giggly puddle; even if nobody was watching but his boyfriend.

“Tickle tickle tickle, Fizzie~” He just had to tease… If there was one thing that killed Fizz, it was Ozzie’s silly teases. Normally, they were just flustering. Those teases, though; they drove him nuts. “Shuhut the fuhuhuck uhuhup!”

Ozzie loved the sight of his squirmy boyfriend. The genuine laughter, happy smile, vibrant blushes and adorable noises warmed his loving heart. He genuinely couldn’t be happier than when he was with his Fizzie Frog; especially when the imp was all giggly like that. “Awww, babe, I’m just tryna cheer you up! Are you not feelin’ just a teeny bit better?”

Okay, that wasn’t fair. He was definitely feeling better than when he arrived, but that wasn’t totally because of the tickling. Being around Asmodeus, as evil as he was, immediately boosted his mood. “Thihis- ihit’s nohot fahahair! Youhuhu suhuhuck!”

“Only for you, Fizz~” Just to be evil, Asmodeus fluttered his fingers on the jester’s hips. FIzz squealed, his arms swinging to try and grab Ozzie’s hands. Oh, that asshole! “SH-SHIHIHIT! AHASMODEHEHEUS! NAHAT THEHERE!”

Ozzie chuckled, loving the high-pitched cackles from his partner. “But right there is my favorite! C’mon babe, you gotta admit that this is pretty cute.” Fizz groaned through his laughter, thrashing under the sin’s tickly assault. His robotic appendages were no help, merely bouncing off the sin’s feathered skin instead of actually deterring him.

“NOHO IHIHI”M NAHAT! OHOZZIEHEHEEEE!” Fizz could feel his tail wagging, the tip making a gentle thump against the sheets. At least the rooster wasn’t teasing him about that. “Ooh, Fizzie, your tail’s wagging. Are you enjoying yourself?” Spoke too soon…

Seeing that he was working his partner up a bit too much, he moved away from the imp’s hips, deciding to focus on Fizz’s neck instead. “Alright, alright. I won’t kill you, Fizzie babe.”

“F-fuhuckin’ feehels like ihihit!” Fizz whined, his laughter dying down to squeaky giggles. He turned his head, burying his face in the pillowy mattress. The muffled giggles only made him cuter, in Ozzie’s opinion. He leaned his head down, peppering the jester’s face with light kisses. Fizz scrunched up his shoulders, both loving and hating how the ticklish kisses made him melt. “Bahahahaaaabe!”

Ozzie chuckled, basking in the way his boyfriend reacted to the silly affections. The faces in his hair were smiling wide, portraying his obvious adoration and love. So fucking cute…

It was almost comical, the way the large sin cuddled up to the smaller imp. The love they shared was like no other; based on good communication, mutual respect and pure affection, it was about as healthy as you could get. Sure, they weren’t officially public, but nobody else needed to know about them for it to be wonderful. Especially in the cutesy moments like those.

As much as Fizzarolli loved the attention, he was wearing out. Dealing with the dicks from that morning, combined with the goofy fun, had him pretty drained. “Ohozziehehe! Plehease, noho mohohore!”

And just like that, it was over. Asmodeus respected boundaries more than any other creature in hell; the moment Fizz wanted him to stop, he would, no questions asked. He did, however, pull the imp against his chest, rubbing small circles into his back to help calm him down. The sin’s voice was soft once again, save for a teasing edge. “Easy, babe. You okay? I didn’t go too far, did I?”

Fizz took a few deep breaths, getting out the last few giggles as he snuggled against his man. “Uhum…no, you’re good. But *damn*, did you have to go for my hips?” Ozzie snorted, nuzzling his head against the imp’s. “You know I did. It’s adorable, how can I not?”

He held Fizz tight, flipping them over so the jester was laying on his chest. It was their favorite way to sleep; Fizz could feel the warmth of his boyfriend, and Ozzie could sleep peacefully, knowing his partner was safe while he was with him. Fizzie grumbled, but didn’t protest the movement. He was tired, and he couldn’t deny that the sin’s chest was rather comfortable.

The covers were pulled over the pair, concealing almost all of Fizz’s body. His concealing hat was removed, placed on its holder for the night. It was nice, affectionate and calm; just the way the pair liked it. They drifted off, the small yet happy smile never leaving the imp’s face.

#hb tickle #lee!fizzarolli #ler!asmodeus #ler!ozzie #ticklish!fizzarolli #augtickletober2023 #tickle fic #sfw tickling community #tickle #augtickletober 2023 #augtickletober #helluva boss tickle #hb fizzarolli #hb asmodeus #hb ozzie #fizzmodeus #fluffy tickles #the skrunkles

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boundbyeclipse · 5 months ago

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⛓️smut 4 + 🌹fluff 3&5 with Elijah please❤️

hello! thank you for sending in the request! hope you enjoy it ♡

prompts are here.

🌹 3. “My love for you only grows with each passing second”

🌹 5. “I’d be more than happy to date my best friend”

⛓️ 4. “If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop”

The flames danced together in the fireplace as you sat on the red velvety couch at the Mikaelsons place. You sat there all cozy and relaxed, enjoying the atmosphere. You were invited by Elijah who has been your best friend for a long time now. Apparently, he wanted to talk to you, but didn’t say what it was about. And usually, he always tells you everything and anything, so this time, you felt as if he was hiding something. Or, that something seriously bad has happened and he needs your help. With those questions in your head not letting you stay calm, you turned your head and looked at him.

“So, what’s been bugging you?”

Elijah walked up to you, reaching his hand out, looking at you with a little smile on his face.

“Come with me”

You obliged, taking his hand and allowing him to lead the way. He took you to the balcony that was connected to his room. The sun was already setting, drowning the buildings in its rays of sunshine, golden sky looking as beautiful as ever. Light chilly wind rippled through your hair as you leaned onto the metal railing.

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Lij” you tilted your head, observing his side profile as he stared into the distance.

He smiles lightly, looking down before he locks eyes with you.

“You’ve always loved sunsets. It’s one of the reasons why I brought you here to talk. Thought it would be a comfortable place for this”

“I’m here, you know? If you need my help, my advice, a place to stay, anything. Tell me. I’ll do it all for you” you squeezed his forearm, a concerned look on your face.

He sighed.

“The thing is, I’ve known you for so long, it feels like forever. I remember saving you from my own brother and his stupid intentions to kill you. I’m very glad I did. I have such an amazing best friend in my life, somebody who truly cares and I thank you for that. But you know, over time, people sometimes either fall apart, or become closer. We, certainly, became closer. And I cannot lie to myself anymore, nor to you. By saying closer, I mean, I feel something. Something that could potentially either make things wrong, or make them right. So, I’ve been thinking for weeks how to tell you this since I’ve come to a realisation”

You shook your head, trying to catch up with what he’s trying to tell you.

“What realisation?”

“See, I love you as a best friend. But… My love for you only grows with each passing second. The way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you care for me, the way you’re willing to do anything in this world for me. I have fallen for you and I have no idea what will happen next, but I had to tell you. You mean so much to me, I haven’t felt this way for anyone else before”

“Elijah…” you whispered, voice shaky as your eyes filled with tears, absolutely taken aback by his words. But what he doesn’t know yet, is that you feel the same way, but never thought of confessing because he is your best friend. It scared you. But now, knowing the truth, you felt like you had no more fear in you to express your feelings.

“I’m sorry”

“No, no, Lij, listen,” you stopped him from leaving, cupping his face with your hand, thumb rubbing his jawline.

His dark brown eyes glistened as he melted into your touch, heart picking up its pace.

“You have no idea how I feel and you want to walk away? Elijah, I’ve been in the same shoes that you are in for months now. Only that I feared it would ruin things between us for forever, so I hid behind my feelings and pretended like I only saw you as my friend. But no. I’ve come to a realisation too now that you told me what’s going on inside this heart,” you placed your hand on his chest, “I’d be more than happy to date my best friend”

Elijah smiled, grabbing your hand in his, kissing the back of your palm, a tear rolling down his left cheek as he lightly chuckled.

“I would love to kiss you right now”

“You don’t need to ask for permission” you snickered, fixing his tie as you wrapped your hands around his neck, leaving less space between your faces.

“My love… If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop”

Your lips parted, gaze dropping to his lips before returning to his eyes, “Then don’t”

Elijah cupped your face as he slowly leaned in, closing the distance between you two. Your lips danced together, you being the first one to slip your tongue in his mouth. His hands landed on your waist, pulling your body closer as if it wasn’t close enough in the first place.

He soon picked you up, carrying you inside through the open glass door, laying you down on his king sized bed that smelled of silk and roses, standing at the end of it as he unbuttoned his shirt in a hurry. He looked amazing. He was so muscular and beautiful, broad shoulders and strong arms ; you had no hesitation. In your eyes, he was a greek god. The way he threw that shirt away made you gasp, it turned you on so badly you wished he touched you already. You craved Elijah. He craved you.

He hovered over you then, your body tensing up as your widened eyes followed his movements. He helped you with your shirt, kissing you every now and then, until the both of you were equal. Both of you were naked. Both of you were full of lust.

“You are so beautiful, my darling” he cooed, switching his attention to your neck that he showered with wet kisses, leaving you breathing heavily at the sensation.

“Elijah” you breathed, causing him to look up at you immediately.

“Yes?”

“You’re incredibly handsome”

He smiled, a little shy because of your compliment. Still, he carried on as he loved on your body, entering you slowly without breaking his kisses. Your back arched at the feeling of him filling you up, hands flying to grab onto his arms, nails dug deeply into the skin as Elijah moved his hips.

It felt so good that you couldn’t speak a word except his name, which he loved hearing. The way it fell from your lips sounded like a melody, he could not get enough of it. It was hypnotic, Elijah felt as if he was under your spell.

You were nearing your end, the knot in your stomach growing with each second, almost ready to explode. Elijah pinned your hands on your sides, intertwining your fingers as he looked at you, breathing deeply as he knew he was almost there too.

The both of you reached your highs at the same time, eyes heavy but still locked together, giggles filling the room as Elijah plopped beside you. It took a moment to get your breathing back to normal, and soon you laid on his chest, legs tangled under the sheets. Elijah had his arm around you, stroking your hair. He spoke up.

“I love you, you know?”

“I love you too. Don’t ever let go of me”

“I never will. I promise”

#the vampire diaries fluff #the vampire diaries smut #the vampire diaries fics #elijah mikaelson fluff #elijah mikaelson smut #elijah mikaelson x reader #tvd fluff #tvd smut

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poraphia · 1 year ago

Text

"I’ll Hold Your Hands."

Wilbur x anxious!reader 1303 words • 8.16.23 Request from @ax-y10! Reader has anxiety and picks at their hands and fingers. Reader is also overstimulated and nervous, but Will comforts! wilbur soot masterlist here :)

It's our first date, but you've shown me that even through anxious habits, you'll do anything to make me happy.

♡♡♡

“Hey, you ready?” A soft voice asked through the phone. Even with no effort his accent could send shivers down my spine.

“Mhm,” I hummed. “Give me a moment to come downstairs.” I took one final look in the mirror, making sure my outfit was pressed down enough to compliment my curves and gorgeous enough to let Will know there won’t be any regrets in asking me out. I slipped on the perfect set of shoes before walking out of my hotel room and toward the nearest elevator.

I was only staying in Brighton for two weeks before heading back home. Wilbur and I have been friends for a while beforehand. It wasn’t until recently that mutual feelings started to bubble up between us. It was a late night 2 AM call when Will asked me:

“Hey, (y/n)..?”

“Yes, Will?”

“Um… If you do come to Brighton anytime soon… I know a lovely place for us to eat dinner.”

I chuckled, noticing the shyness of his voice. “Are you asking me out, Mr. Gold?”

“Perhaps.”

After some packing and planning, I flew out to the United Kingdom to visit friends, travel to different locations, and most of all, go on my first date with the one and only, Wilbur Soot.

The elevator doors slid open. I walked out with the clicking of my shoes echoing down the hallway. Once I made it to the lobby, it didn’t take long to spot the dashing tall man sitting on one of the complementary couches. His legs were crossed with his glasses resting upon the bridge of his nose. I waved at him in an attempt to get his attention, and soon enough he spotted me as well.

Once he got up, I was able to see his outfit more properly. He was wearing black slacks with black dress shoes on, and he wore an orange dress shirt with the top three buttons unbuttoned. His hair was fluffier than usual, and his sleeves were folded up to show his forearms.

A big smile was planted on his face now as he outstretched his arms. I picked up my pace before nearly throwing myself in his embrace, hugging him tightly. His limbs wrapped around my waist before lifting me in the air and twirling me around.

“It feels good to finally see you!” He exclaimed through laughs. He put me down and stepped back a bit, admiring my outfit. “You look so beautiful..” He muttered.

A soft chuckle escaped my lips. “I could say the same for you.” I said, making sure I hid my hands behind my back. He raised an eyebrow before reaching for my arm and holding my hand.

“Come on, the restaurant is just a taxi cab away.” He said, to which I nodded in response. We walked side-by-side, but a bit of my confidence faltered. Did he notice my fingers? I painted them this morning so that from a glance, they looked perfectly fine. But I know that with a good look, anyone could notice the peeling skin, the bitten-off nails, and the swollen tips. It’s safe to say, I wasn’t opting to be a hand model anytime soon.

Wilbur kept my hand in his as we entered the taxi. After he directed the driver and paid him, he turned to me. “Hey, you doing alright?” He asked. He used his thumb to soothe the back of my hand, but his furrowed eyebrows and worried glance never left my face.

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine, Will, don’t worry.” I reassured.

I was very much not fine.

I didn’t have the realization that I was in an entirely new country, going on a date with a long-term best friend I’ve had on the internet, to what I presume to be a relatively fancy restaurant in the city—

until now.

Nervously, with my other hand, I started to pick off the skin of my thumb with my index finger, a little frustrated that I was unable to use both hands. Wilbur and I continued to have regular conversations as I absent-mindedly scratched off nail polish and skin.

Once we got to the restaurant, I made sure to hide my other hand in my pocket or behind my back. Anywhere out of Wilbur’s vision. The only time Wilbur let go of my hand was to check off the reservation he had for us as we followed the waiter to our table. In cushioned chairs, we sat across from each other. The white tablecloth and circular surface sat promptly in between us.

Our waiter placed the menus in front of us, and Wilbur immediately picked up the booklet to begin examining the options. I, on the other hand, quickly flipped it open and hid my hands under the table, still fiddling with swollen fingers. Once again, my heart was racing. The abundance of people in the room chattering with utensils clinking against plates, someone I consider important in my life sitting right in front of me, my shaking leg bouncing my hands up and down— I’m getting overstimulated.

“(y/n)? (y/n)!” His voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up, only to notice our waiter was back with a pen and notepad. I glanced over to Will. His head was tilted, and he only looked at me with concerned glistens in his eyes. “Do you know what you want to drink?” He asked softly. I looked over to the waiter again.

“Oh— uh, can I just get a water?” I asked, stammering over my words. The waiter nodded before walking away to retrieve our beverages.

“(y/n), you haven’t been holding up so well and you look pale. Is everything alright?” Wilbur asked. His hands were placed on the table, almost reaching at me so that he may take my hand in his. I sighed, looking down at my lap in shame.

“You promise not to judge, right?” I said.

Wilbur shook his head. “No, no, of course not, love… Tell me what’s wrong.”

With a deep inhale, I placed my hands on the table. My nail polish was chipped, and the tips of my fingers were beet red. By the sides of my nails, my skin was peeling off.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He sighed. Carefully, he picked my hands up by the palm and brought them close to his lips, gingerly kissing each finger with the softness of his lips. My face flushed at the sight, not being able to look away.

“I-it’s just,” I started. Tiny tears started to prick at my eyes. “I didn’t realize how fast this was all happening, and I guess I started to get all… Panic-y. I-I’m just really sorry. I didn’t want to ruin tonight.” I stuttered out with a trembling voice.

“Love, I promise you, you didn’t ruin anything. Everything is okay. Do you want to get out of here? If this is all too much we can go back to the hotel and just hang out there. Anything you want, (y/n). Because what matters at the end of the day, to me, is that we have a great time together.” He planted one last kiss in the palm of my hand. “That’s all I want for us.”

I couldn’t help the small sniffle as the warmth of his words wrapped me tightly in a blanket. I looked at him with lovestruck in my eyes. I wanted to do nothing but melt in his embrace, bury myself in the crook of his neck every morning, to hold hands while walking around the big city. At that moment I knew—

I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

With the sincerest smile, I looked at him.

“Just keep holding my hands, Will.”

In turn, his dimples nearly lit up my whole world.

“Only for you.”

♡♡♡

a / n ~ eep hope you enjoyed! Ax i hope this comforts you in some sort of way I lowkey had to do my research for this one loll

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot oneshots #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #will gold #wilbur hc #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur x you #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #mcytblr #mcyt x reader

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babydollmarauders · 2 years ago

Note

Jack and mom finding out they are pregnant or gender reveal?

i was so tired when i wrote this and i have not proofread it, so i hope it’s okay

it hadn’t even occurred to me that i could be pregnant. chalking the sickness and fatigue up to the stress of wedding planning, the cravings and tenderness in my breast being attributed with getting my period soon.

when i was complaining about everything to Jack, he only asked if i should go to an urgent care or if my period was this week. which in turn, got me thinking; i’ve been using an upcoming period as an excuse for two weeks without even realizing that i’ve yet to actually get my monthly cycle.

“Jack! you coming?” Quinn’s voice drifts up the stairs of the lake house, quickly followed by the sound of scolding from Ellen about his yelling.

“alright, i gotta go.” Jack stands from our bed, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “i love you.”

he jogs out of the room, rushing to catch up with his dad and brothers for their golf day.

quickly pulling out my phone, i tap into my period tracking app, a lump forming in my throat at the words displayed.

period 6 days late

eyeing the keys to Jack’s range rover that sit on the dresser, i sigh, standing and retrieving them. i step down the stairs a lot quieter than Jack had just moments before.

“hey hun! i’m meeting some friends at that one mom and pop’s pizza place. i can never remember the name, the one like forty-five minutes out? do you wanna come?” Ellen calls to me as i enter the living room. despite the mix of emotions battling for dominance in my body, i smile, shaking my head.

“no. i’m okay, thank you!” i tell her. “i’m actually about to drive over to the drug store real quick, do you need anything?”

“no, i’m okay! thank you, hun! you sure you don’t wanna come? i feel bad leaving you here all by yourself!” she tells me and i just shake my head again, assuring her that i’m okay by myself. Ellen shrugs and we bid each other a goodbye before i take off out the door.

the drive to CVS is quick, the trip in even quicker because i don’t think twice about which kind of test to buy, i just grab one of almost every option.

by the time i make it back to the lake house, Ellen has already left, leaving me with the house to myself.

i take a deep breath, steeling my nerves as i go grab a bottle of water. chugging the water, i eat a quick snack and pace around the empty downstairs until i feel the need to pee.

making the trek upstairs to the bathroom, i pause in the doorway.

should i be doing this without Jack?

should i be telling him before i take a test?

before i can chicken out, another wave of light nausea hits me and i decide that i can’t wait any longer. Jack is right, if these come back negative then i should probably go to urgent care, just in case something is seriously wrong. and that’s better done sooner rather than later, right?

my hands shake, making it hard to take the tests, but i get it done, setting each one on the counter. with a timer set on my phone, i sit on the cold bathroom floor, my thoughts racing at the possibility of being pregnant.

it’s not like Jack and i have never talked about having kids. we have. plenty of times. we just never imagined it this soon. we’re not even married yet, our wedding is in two weeks. Jack has talked about hoping to have kids alongside Quinn or Luke, but neither of them are even in relationships, let alone having kids soon. will he be upset about that?

or could this be an exciting thing? the idea of having a mini me or Jack running around our apartment. Jack teaching them how to skate, how to play hockey. imagining the apartment full of children’s toys and play hockey sets. dressing them in a jersey and taking them to see Jack play. a child calling me “mama”.

i’m torn out of my thoughts by the sound of my timer, quickly clicking the stop button. i stare up towards the counter, not yet ready to read the results, but somehow already knowing what they’ll say.

i stand up slowly, dragging out the process in order to provide myself with extra time. taking one last deep inhale, i count to three before looking at the tests.

positive.

two lines.

a plus sign.

pregnant.

tears well in my eyes at the results. i’m overjoyed, but i can’t help the nagging feeling in the back of my mind. my heart telling me i’m excited to have a baby, a product of Jack and i, while my brain overthinks, wondering what Jack will think, if he’ll be upset.

grabbing the tests, i go back to our bedroom, sticking them in my bedside table drawer before laying down on the bed. tears well in my eyes as my mind pings from one thought to another. happy and then scared.

i’ve probably laid there for an hour before i find myself falling asleep.

“hey, baby.” i’m stirred from my sleep by the sound of Jack’s voice. “you been in here the whole day?”

my eyes flutter open, coming face to face with my fiancé, who squats down beside the bed. i sleepily shake my head at his question.

“no? what’d you do then, pretty girl?” he wonders, switching to sit on the edge of the bed while running his hand over my hair. he leans down to press a kiss to my forehead, and it’s only now that i realize he’s freshly showered and changed out of his golfing clothes.

i can hear the voice of Trevor outside our room, yell-telling a story to lord knows who.

“i found out what’s wrong with me.” i barely even second guess telling him. i thought long and hard about it before i fell asleep and it’s better to tell him now rather than in a few weeks.

“oh yeah?” Jack asks. “was i right? was it your period?”

i’m silent for a beat, just trying to think about how to phrase my next few words.

“um, i guess you could say that?” i tell him “or rather something to do with it.”

“that’s good.” “i’m pregnant.”

we both speak at the same time and i watch as recognition slowly spreads across his face. his hand drops from my hair, making me nervous.

“w-what?” he gives a few slow blinks, trying to process the information i just threw at him.

sitting up in the bed, i reach over and open the bedside drawer, clutching the tests in my hands and holding them out to Jack.

he stares at them for a few moments before taking them into his own hand. he rifles through each test, reading the results.

“can you please say something?” i whisper, tears pricking the back of my eyes. the anxiety is eating at me, nervous of what he thinks.

“we’re gonna have a baby?” his voice is quiet as he looks up at me, his eyes soft. i just nod in response, unable to speak without a sob coming out.

he drops the tests on the bed, cupping my face and crashing his lips on mine. soft and sweet, full of love and affection. he pulls away, laying his forehead on mine.

“we’re having a baby.” he whispers, more to himself than me.

“is that okay?” i question.

“that’s more than okay.” he tells me, pulling back to really look me in the eyes.

“i know you’ve talked before about wanting to have kids around the same time as your brothers, and i’m sorry that-”

“fuck that. we’re having a baby! a little you and me.” he wears an excited smile, placing another chaste kiss to my lips.

“yeah, we’re having a baby.”

#el!hughes au #ask faithlynn ✨#jack hughes x reader

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miyuhpapayuh · 1 year ago

Text

Shame on me.

“It’s a shame for you,

It’s a shame for me..

Is the blame on you?

I could say the same for me!

After the wrong, is there a right?”

That’s exactly what she was wondering as she watches her boyfriend of one year, Lucky, sing to another random girl on stage.

It wasn’t even the fact that he was singing to them, because she understood the attraction that women had towards him, and she couldn’t blame them.

But, she didn’t think there was any real reason why he should be getting down on his knees and gripping them up and being all in their faces.

She’s expressed her slight frustration, once, and he chalked it up to her being paranoid. And of course, when that wasn’t enough to make her calm down, he fucked every doubt right out of her mind.

But, that only holds over for so long.

So, here they are again. Lucky out there on bended knee making some pretty brown girl squeal with joy, while his lover fumes behind the curtains.

After the show was over and the pair were on their way home, the unwanted conversation lingered in the air.

With her arms folded across her chest, she stared out of the window at the dark blue sky, while Lucky kept a tight grip on the steering wheel, already knowing that this was about to tear up his nerves.

“Wassup, baby?” He asks, briefly looking in her direction. “Why you facin’ the window?”

“Hm. I could think of a couple reasons, but I’ll keep ‘em to myself.”

He sucks his teeth. “Let’s not do this, tonight.”

“That’s why I said I’ll keep ‘em to myself.” She snaps, looking in his direction.

“Here we go.”

“David, please. If you’re not gonna be real, then just leave it alone.”

Taking offense, he pulls into an empty lot and parks the car.

She rolls her eyes, not moving her position. “It’s dark out here and you playin’.”

“I’m not playin’. I’m bein’ real. Wassup witchu?” He nudges her arm, pissing her off.

“You know exactly wassup with me. But, it ain’t no big deal to you, so whatever.”

“You sure? Cause, it’s whatever doesn’t sound like a very solid stance.”

She rolls her eyes. "Leave me alone."

He stares at her. “You gon tell me what's got you so angry or is it still whatever?"

“Fuck you, Lucky. Seriously.” She spats, fully facing him. "You know why I'm upset. It's why I'm always upset, with no good reason, according to you."

“You know what? I don’t know what it’s gonna take for you to understand. Why we gotta argue? You don’t see me blowin’ up at you for them lil stunts you be pullin’!” He responds.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Right. We got amnesia, now? You don’t be posting half naked all over Instagram, every week?”

“Are you serious, right now?” She asks.

“Dead serious. You always trippin’ and goin’ on bout me and what I be doin’, like you ain’t out here lookin’ like you want some attention.”

“Well, I wonder why the fuck that is!” She huffs.

“So, that’s my fault too, huh?” He chuckles, resuming his driving to their destination.

“Fucking duh.” She grumbles, continuing to stare out of the window.

“I’m not looking for anybody’s attention, but yours. You stupid motherfucker. But, you’re too busy giving it to them heffas you call fans.”

“You act like I’m cheating on you.”

“You might as well be.” She quips.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to have a rational conversation.” He pats her knee, chuckling again as she jerks away from his touch.

Back at home, the pair’s annoyance with each other continued to fester.

“Aren’t you tired of walking back and forth, yet?” Lucky asks, growing tired of her pacing the expansive floor in front of their bed. “Come sit down, please.”

“Not if you’re not gonna listen to me. I might as well go downstairs.”

“I’m listening to you! I’ve been all ears, all night!” He grows defensive, his voice rising by the slightest.

“Lucky, fix your tone.” She warns.

Sighing to himself, he shakes his head. “Please, just come and sit down.”

Reluctantly sitting down beside him, she looks up at him. He’s already staring back at her.

“Talk.”

“I’m not cheating on you. I go out on stage and do my job. You know I love my fans. I just go out there and make ‘em happy. That’s it. I’m sorry that I made you feel disrespected and neglected, baby. That was never my intention.” He frowns, reaching out to grab her hands into his own.

“You know how I get.. it’s no excuse, but I just can’t handle someone being that close to you. Touching you and clinging onto you like I do. And, it makes it worse when you indulge, but I know that’s your job. I got it. I’m sorry, too.”

“That’s how I felt, when you was postin’ that shit on the gram.” He snorts, “had ya ass hangin’ out, muhfuckas lookin’ at my goods and shit.”

“I’m sorry, baby.” She pouts.

“I should bend you ova’ my knee,” his deep brown eyes glow in the dimly lit room. She fails to hide the smirk growing on her lips.

As the tension leaves the room, it’s quickly replaced by lust so thick, it clouds their minds.

“Come’ere.” She beckons him with a single finger, resulting in him tackling her into the sheets, pulling and yanking at her clothes, until she’s as naked as the day she was born.

She tugs on the bottom of his shirt, before his hands place hers on the bed. “Stay just like this.”

Kissing her rebuttal away, his lips touch every part of her skin as he sinks into her lap, guiding her long legs over his shoulders.

Her hands quickly thread into his coils, tugging as his tongue glides over her clit, down to her opening and back up.

Over and over.

“Oh fuuuuuuck!” She moans.

“Mmmmh,” he moans against her, driving her wild. His hands rubbing up and down her sides.

“Shit!,” she breathes. “Just like that!”

Adding his index and middle finger to the equation, she explodes in no time.

But, he didn’t cease, until he brought her to another climax so intense, she damn near pushed him away.

He chuckles, rising up from the bed to strip.

“I ain’t even gave you this dick yet, baby. Don’t tap out on me, yet.”

Sinking back into between her legs, his eyes lock on hers as they move in sync.

“I love you,” he mumbles over her parted lips, her breathing slowly picking up.

“I love you, too.”

Hips grinding against hers, poking at that spot that seizes her up.

“Yes, babyy… that’s the spot.” She whines, sinking her nails into his hips as he picks up speed with every thrust, til he’s damn near pounding into her.

“My god!” She whimpers, lifting her head up to look between them at the mess they’re making, not getting far as Lucky pushes her head back towards the pillows.

“So fuckin’ good… mmm!” He growls, hand cupping her face.

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna—- oooh shit, baby!” Her legs open and close around his thighs, fighting off her release.

“Cum on this dick, baby,” was enough to drive her over the edge, her nails digging into his back.

Tossing her onto her stomach, he wastes no time sliding back into her. She bites down on her bottom lip.

“Don’t get all quiet now… talk yo shit, babe.” He taunts, easily locating one of her many spots.

“Unh… fuck you,” she moans, rolling her hips against him.

He deeply chuckles, smacking her ass. “Fuck me, huh.”

“Mmmhm.. I hate you.” She teases, smirking once he grabs the front of her neck and begins to drive into her, roughly.

Her mouth falls open, nothing but gasps escaping as his strokes actively take her breath away.

“You hate me… but, you love when I get up in this pussy, don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“You love when daddy make you cum, don’t you?”

“Yesss, yes! Deeper… deeper, baby!” She yells, drunk on his stroke.

Doing just that, he touches her soul with just a few thrusts, her eyes almost rolling out of her head.

“Fuck,” she gasps, gripping the sheets in her hands. “Right there, babyyyy… right there!”

“I’m where you need me, baby?”

“Yeah! I’m gonna cum— I’m gonna cum!” Her arch begins to falter as her orgasm shatters through her, pulling him down as well.

“Ah shitttt,” his grip on her neck tightens, before slowly loosening as he fills her with his warmth.

“Mmh,” he sighs, pressing kisses up her spine as she comes down from her high. “You still mad at me?”

They share a laugh.

Some toxic filth for y'all lmao enjoy!

@ghostfacekill-monger @sheabuttahwrites @honestpreference @harmshake @thegifstories @blackerthings @henneseyhoe @brwnsugababe @soufcakmistress @abeautifulmindexposed @twistedcharismaaa @headcannonxgalore @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @cecereads209 @nayaxwrites @planetblaque @starcrossedxwriter @megamindsecretlair

#lucky daye #lucky daye smut #miyuhpapayuh #poc writers #blackwriters #black romance #smut #Spotify

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 months ago

Text

These Lips Speak Lies

Aramis x Reader (The Musketeers)

Words: 7048

Summary: A prequel to Honor and Espionage, Aramis tells the story of how he and the reader met, almost killed each other, and fell in love.

Notes: Wow, okay I know this is crazy long but I just couldn’t help myself. I loved the Spy Reader and Aramis dynamic so much that I just had to continue. What better way to tell the story than to start at the beginning? If you guys love this saga as much as I do, be sure to let me know!

Find more Musketeers: HERE

The group gathered around the small fireplace, at home in the space they’d all spent many evenings since the incidents at Ambassador Laurent’s estate. With the country escape having bored you both, you and Aramis returned to Paris before Treville’s orders and hosted many dinners. The others concocted exciting tales to keep you amused and to distract you from your painful idleness.

It was a similar affair, though in a few days, you’d be cleared to return to your work. Due to his pleading and lack of injury, Aramis had been allowed to go on a few missions, given that he still kept an eye on your recovery.

You stood to pour another round of wine into everyone’s glasses, but Aramis tugged you back down, kissing your cheek.

“Allow me, darling,” he said. He picked up the bottle and refilled your glass.

“I am capable of lifting a simple bottle, Aramis,” you scoffed. “You said so yourself, my arm is entirely healed.”

“That does not mean I cannot still be a dutiful husband, hm?” He raised a brow and kissed you again, this time meeting your soft lips with his.

“If all it took was me getting shot for you to act like this, I would have tried it ages ago,” you teased.

He scowled, gave your lips another quick peck, and stood. Aramis tended to his companion’s cups before returning to his place beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

For a while, the five of you drank together, merrily telling stories of past adventures and other close calls. The fire was dying down by the time D’Artagnan leaned over to you.

“I have to know,” he said with a smirk, “how did the two of you meet?”

Porthos’ brow furrowed and he leaned back in his chair. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard the story myself.”

“Nor I,” Athos said, pouring himself another glass.

“I could have sworn we told the tale at our wedding.” You thought back to that day, but, quite honestly, you only remembered that night. The images in your mind made you blush and you snuggled a little closer to your husband.

“They were both probably too drunk to remember,” Aramis snickered.

“Well I haven’t heard it at all,” D’Artagnan said, turning to you with a pout. “Was it on an assignment?”

You blew out a breath. “Yes and no.”

“Did you work together?”

This time, your husband answered. “Yes and no.”

“Cut to it, will ya?” Porthos bellowed. “We want to hear the story.”

“Alright, alright,” you laughed. You turned, smirking at the man beside you. “Aramis, darling, would you like to do the honors? I’ll correct you if you get anything wrong, of course.”

He brought your lips to his one more time, earning a semi-annoyed huff from Porthos.

“My pleasure.” He stood, pacing in front of the fire. “Now, I’m sure you all remember the mysterious stranglings that plagued the city five years ago?”

The three members of the audience nodded.

Aramis’ smile grew. “This is the story of how we solved the case-”

“Nearly died on several occasions,” you interjected with a giggle.

He reached for your hand and kissed it. “And fell in love.”

By morning, they were dead. Nobody knew how it was possible, but there was no denying it. Paris was being hunted. Specifically, the women of Paris. Two noblewomen had turned up, both strangled and found in the streets, blocks away from their homes.

What worried Aramis was the bodies before them. Women from the lower class had been dying for weeks now. And worse, nothing was being done. It made his blood boil knowing a killer was stalking the streets and he was guarding the king’s dinners.

But when he brought the murders up to Treville, the captain told him that he already had a man on the job, though Aramis had heard nothing of such an assignment from any of the other musketeers. He told Aramis to let it be as if it were little more than a pest problem being handled. Aramis didn’t understand it. How could the captain be content forgoing the proper resources to bring these women’s killer to justice?

Aramis, certainly, was not.

So, despite Treville’s explicit instructions, Aramis decided to conduct his own investigation into the murders. And, with his two usual companions away on a mission of their own, he would have to solve this problem alone.

Luckily, he had plenty of connections with the women of the nobility. And, with the growing terror amongst them, they were more than willing to cooperate.

“At first,” Lady Brizman whispered, though there was no one else in the courtyard to hear them, “we thought, maybe, Juliet- Lady de Fontane- was, well…” she trailed off, lowering her voice even more as if to conceal a scandal, “seeing someone. We thought maybe things went badly and her lover killed her.”

Aramis nodded. “But then Madame Wilton was killed in the same manner.”

“Exactly,” she exclaimed. “Now I have my servants triple-check anyone who comes to the house.” She smiled, leaning against the garden gate. “Except for you, of course.” Her hand trailed up his arm.

“Well, if you hear anything more, or feel at all frightened and in need of assistance,” he flashed her a charming smile and tipped his hat. “I’m at your service, madame.”

He waited until he was out of sight to hit his hand against the wall with a frustrated growl. It was the same thing he’d heard from the last four women. Suspected affairs turned serial killer. But, according to every woman he’d spoken to, the victims’ whereabouts on the days they were killed provided very little opportunity for them to have encountered the killer.

There had to be some kind of connection, a place where they met, or a person they knew. But where- or who- could connect women of different classes?

Aramis turned on his heel and stopped suddenly.

“Of course,” he muttered to himself. He gazed across the street at the seamstress’s shop before him.

All of the women killed before worked as either suppliers, delivery girls, or seamstresses themselves. And surely Lady de Fontane and Madame Wilton frequented such establishments. The killer must have used these shops as hunting grounds, watching from the side until he found his perfect victim. Perhaps he even stood where Aramis stood. The thought made the musketeer shudder.

Aramis scoped out the area. Another shop down the road gave him a pretty good idea that this must be where the women were being taken from. He determined that he would come back in the evening- when the women were taken- and see if he could catch the beast.

He’d sat there for hours, hidden from the common passersby, keeping an eye on every person who walked down the street. The sun had set, leaving the road in darkness, but the windows of the shop still held a light. Someone was working late. He just hoped it was only the dressmakers.

Several figures passed by him, none appearing the most trustworthy, but all vacating the street too swiftly to be scoping out the shop for their next victim.

All but one.

A figure in a dark, scarlet cloak crossed the street, tucking themselves into the darkness of the alley beside the shop. Aramis eyed the villain darkly and navigated the alleys and corners in order to catch them by surprise. As he crept toward them, dagger drawn at his side, he noticed their stance. Like a cat waiting to pounce on its prey.

He lunged first, grabbing their arm and pinning them to the wall, arm stretched across their chest.

Her chest, he observed as the scarlet cloak fell open slightly. He tried not to let it distract him. A woman was just as capable of murder, as his years had taught him.

“It’s dangerous here at night, mademoiselle,” he hissed. “I might ask what you’re doing, skulking about the shadows.”

“I might ask you the same thing.” You aimed your pistol at his abdomen and cocked it, raising a brow with the click. You stared defiantly in his dark eyes. He was handsome, you observed, but that could very well be used to lure women into his trap. This could be the very killer you’d spent weeks searching for.

But those eyes…

“I am a King’s Musketeer, patrolling the streets for the safety of those such as yourself,” he said, failing to keep the suspicious bite from his tone.

You took a moment to look over him, indeed finding the crest on his shoulder, and sighed.

“Then we have much to discuss, monsieur,” you huffed, lowering your weapon and hooking it back to the belt around your waist.

Aramis did not let his guard down, instead standing straighter, poised for a possible attack. Who knew what a killer like this could be capable of… even if she did have the loveliest voice.

You rolled your eyes. “I do not have time for this, come with me.” You grabbed his arm and pulled him to a door that led to the upper quarters of the shop itself.

In his surprise, Aramis didn’t fight you, following blindly up the stairs to a small room with a cot, a candle, and a small desk scattered with piles of notes and maps. He jerked his arm away from your grip, frustration melding with his misunderstanding.

You ignored him and walked over to the papers and grabbed something from atop them.

“Would you explain to me what’s going on?” He demanded.

“What is going on is that you have absolutely no idea what you are doing,” you snapped, whirling around to face him with the ring you kept on your desk. Upon it, was the crest of the Musketeers. You held it before him and watched his face contort from irritation to utter confusion.

“You’re a…” He gazed upon your face again, as if trying to read something there.

“It appears we work for the same regiment, monsieur,” you said coolly. “Captain Treville believed that I would have a better chance of catching the killer because I am better able to blend into this area of town, whereas a soldier such as yourself would be immediately spotted, as tonight has clearly displayed.”

“I was doing fine before I made the mistake of following you into that alley- which I may add, you looked just as suspicious as I may or may not have,” he argued. “The fact that I am here shows that I am just as capable of following this case as you are, if not more so given that I have the authority of a musketeer.” He stepped toward you. “Tell me, what exactly does Treville have you for?”

“I’m afraid that is privileged information,” you glared. “Tell me, were you or were you not told to leave this case alone?” Now, you stepped towards him. “Because I know for a fact that Captain Treville wanted me alone searching for the killer in fear of scaring them into hiding.”

Aramis looked away.

You scoffed. “Exactly what I thought. Another ‘hero’ dying to make a name for himself.” Turning back to your notes, you dismissed him with a wave of your hand. “You can run back to the garrison. I have women to protect.”

Aramis remained, though whether it was shock or stubbornness that prevented his feet from moving, he wasn’t entirely sure. Instead, he moved to look over your shoulder.

“These are your observations then?” He asked.

You didn’t bother turning to look at him. “I’ve been staying in this apartment for the past three weeks. It has given me the opportunity to study the pattern of workers and regular buyers, but it has yet to yield any clue as to who is targeting them.” You couldn’t help the irritated sigh that fell from your lips. “I have followed up on every man that has been to the shop since I’ve been here and all of them have been checked out. The killer must be keeping to the shadows, hunting like a wolf at night.”

“What makes you so sure the killer is a man?”

You scoffed. “Because I saw the bodies. The bruises around the neck were far too large for them to have been strangled by a woman.” Setting your pages down again, you faced him with your arms crossed impatiently. “Now if you don’t mind, monsieur…?”

He removed his hat. “Aramis. My name is Aramis.” He made no motion to leave. In fact, he stood his ground firmly, which only made you more annoyed. “And how exactly do you plan to catch this man, madame…?” He mimicked your questioning tone.

“Y/N.” You saw no point in giving him a false name, though you were half tempted to leave him guessing. “And I shall catch him in the act.”

Aramis chuckled, running his fingers over his facial hair. “And how do you plan to do that?”

You raised a brow.

His smarminess fell. “You can’t be serious.”

“I assure you, Monsieur Aramis, that I am perfectly capable of handling myself.”

“You’re going to give yourself as bait?”

“I’m going to lure him out of the shadows by giving him a target that isn’t defenseless.” You held up your pistol. “If he agrees to come in quietly, then he’ll be hanged in the morning. If not… well, I’ll have the pleasure of making Paris a safer place tonight.”

Your fellow musketeer crossed his arms.

“I’m coming with you.”

“You most certainly are not.”

“I only wish to assist you in catching the killer,” he said.

“You think because I’m a woman I cannot do it on my own?” You challenged.

“I’ve learned never to underestimate a woman, darling.” He leaned in. “I just don’t trust you.”

The sound of your hand against his cheek rang through the small room.

Aramis put a hand to his face, already reddening where you’d hit, but his smug smile never faltered.

“Do you let your emotions get in the way of every mission or am I special?”

You raised your hand again, but this time he caught it, his face darkening.

“It was only cute the first time.”

You jerked your arm out of his grip, eyes defiant and tone threatening.

“If you get in my way for so much as a second-”

“I assure you, we want the same thing,” Aramis said. “Think of me as your backup plan, if being bait doesn’t go quite the way you expect.”

“I don’t need backup plans,” you said. “I’m always right the first time. It’s why Treville sends me instead of any of you.”

You slipped by him, tucking your pistol into the belt beneath your cloak as you walked to the stairs. You stopped at the exit and sighed, turning back to face the other musketeer.

“Well?” You gave him a smirk. “Are you coming or not, Monsieur Aramis?”

He motioned with his arm, returning your smug expression. “After you, Madam Y/N.”

“It’s mademoiselle,” you corrected.

“So you haven’t found a man who can put up with your arrogance, how surprising.”

You rolled your eyes and went back downstairs.

Aramis returned to his spot in the alleyway across the street from the shop, keeping a close eye on the swift-moving cloaked figure across from him. Heat still lingered in his skin, his frustration showing in the red of his cheeks. He’d known you for a few short minutes and already, you’d burrowed your way into his mind. He convinced himself it was anger and nothing more, but the familiar ache in his chest suggested otherwise.

“A woman spying for Treville,” he muttered. “I’ve never heard anything so… brilliant.” He could tell, just from the confidence in your gaze and the way you pointed that pistol at him that you were just as capable as any musketeer in his regiment. And a woman could go far more unnoticed than any man in uniform.

As much as he hated to admit it, his anger was overridden by his admiration.

You kept an eye on his shadowed figure, your irritation mixing with intrigue.

Why should a musketeer care so much about what was happening to these women? But care he did. You could see it in his eyes.

Those eyes.

“Focus, Y/N,” you hissed at yourself. “The killer must be here somewhere.”

A figure stepped out of the shadows. “Yes, well, unfortunately, you won’t be around to catch him.”

Hands grappled you from behind.

“Let go of me!” Your cry carried across the street.

Aramis leapt into action swiftly, but not as quick as the man waiting behind him. The blow to the back of his head prevented any plans of rescue.

You fought against your captors even as the fabric covered your eyes.

“Feisty one, isn’t she?” A voice sneered.

“Maybe we should have left her for Claude.”

“Let’s get her in the cart.”

“I will ensure you all hang!” You exclaimed, trying not to choke on the bag over your head.

They dragged you to what must have been a cart that they promptly threw you into the back of, along with something else.

Or someone.

“Great,” you sighed.

Treville was not going to be happy.

“Aramis, wake up.” You shook the man’s shoulder with bound hands, examining the wound on his head. It had stopped bleeding at least. “Great help you are. Wake up.”

Aramis groaned, eyes fluttering open and closed.

“We have a problem,” you said, sitting back against the wall of the stables you were taken to.

He tried to sit up, holding his head where dried blood now stained.

You put a hand on his back to steady him.

“Where are we?” He asked.

“From the length of the ride, I would say it’s an estate at the edge of the city.” They had been careful to keep you from seeing anything on the way here and they’d taken the cart directly to the make-shift prison they were keeping you in.

“Did you see them?”

You shook your head. “Bastards put a bag over me. Felt their disgusting hands though.”

Aramis tensed, jaw clenched as his eyes looked you over for injuries. “They didn’t hurt you did they?”

“No. No, I’m alright.” You couldn’t help but be touched by his clear concern. “Just angry at myself for letting them catch me to begin with.”

“We were expecting a single madman, not an ambush. You couldn't have known.”

“That’s the thing.” You pushed yourself to your feet, pacing around the small space while he leaned himself up in the corner, standing shakily. “The murders were carried about by a single person. Of that I’m certain. What could someone possibly gain by stopping us from catching him?”

“They told me you were a clever one.”

Both of you jumped at the voice. You moved instinctively in front of your injured companion.

A woman stepped into the moonlight that streamed through the stable windows. You could just see her through the barred opening in the door. She wore a dark dress and gloves and a stern frown. She couldn’t have been much older than you.

“All of this could have been a forgotten tragedy, but the musketeers had to stick their noses into it, didn’t they?” She adjusted her gloves.

“You aren’t the killer,” you said. “Your hands have hardly seen the sunlight, let alone crushed the life out of another woman’s throat.” The venom in your voice was clear, not your usual feigned charm. This was not a situation that required being personable.

“I can’t imagine what it’s like.” She wrinkled her nose. “A woman shouldn’t know such things. The details of a death.”

“If you let us go, I’d be happy to give you a demonstration,” you hissed.

She laughed. “Such spirit for a musketeer’s slut.”

You gritted your teeth.

Aramis put a hand on your shoulder. He shook his head, giving you a warning glance.

“Who are you?” He asked. “Why are we here?”

“Aramis, I’m offended you don’t remember me.” She smirked. “You are very familiar with a dear friend of mine, Lady Brizman.”

His mind reeled, still pounding from being hit. Then, he placed why she looked familiar.

“Lady Augustin.”

“I was never pretty enough for you to chase, hm?”

“It had far more to do with your husband than your looks, I can assure you.”

Between her jealous words and the way she grimaced at the mention of her husband, the pieces came together.

You stared her down, smiling as you understood. “It’s him, isn’t it? Your husband is the one killing those women.”

“Lord Augustin is sick,” she snapped. She took a deep breath. “He just needs time. I’m going to help him.”

“Then you’re just as despicable as he is,” you spat. “Maybe worse.”

“Y/N,” Aramis warned, seeing the terrible look in the woman’s eyes.

Lady Augustin stepped closer to the locked door, her face inches from the barred opening. “Oh, he’ll have fun with you,” she said.

You reached your arm out of the opening, but she backed away laughing.

“I’ll send my men down to fetch you when my husband returns home.” Her voice echoed cruelly down the corridor of the stables. “Think of it this way, dear Musketeer- with you to keep him occupied, how many women will your sacrifice be worth?”

“You won’t get away with this!” You called after her, clawing the outside of the door like a trapped animal. “You will face justice! You and your vile husband!”

You brought your arm in to pound both of your fists against the wood, trying to force the door open. You hit it again and again, splinters digging into the flesh of your hands.

“Y/N,” Aramis said again, this time softer.

“We have to get out. You heard her. I won’t let him have me.”

“Y/N-”

“They’ll kill you too,” you said, your panic clouding your judgment. “They’ll kill you and he’ll strangle me like all of those women and then he will never stop. We have to get out.” You felt tears hot on your cheeks more than you felt the blood now dripping from the scrapes on your hands.

“Y/N, stop.” Aramis grabbed you around the middle, pulling you away from the door.

“No!” You cried. “We have to stop them. We have to-” You choked on a frightened sob.

You couldn't remember the last time you were this scared.

Aramis wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him so you couldn’t go back to the door.

“Let me go,” you demanded.

“Not until I know you aren’t going to tear your hands apart on a door that isn’t going to open,” he said softly, tucking you against his chest. “We’ll get out. We’ll find a way. I promise.”

You took a couple of deep breaths, laying your forehead against his chest to calm yourself down. You pushed away, hastily wiping away your tears.

“You’re right. Now isn’t the time to let them get to us.” You squared your shoulders and tensed your jaw, turning your face away so he couldn’t see your embarrassment at losing control.

“Wait.” Aramis put a hand on your shoulder, turning you so you had to look at him. “It’s okay to be afraid.”

“Not in my position, it’s not.”

Pushing away from him, you moved to the other side of your straw-covered cell. While your legs ached to move, you knew you needed to conserve your energy for when they returned.

When Lord Augustin used you to appease his sick appetites.

“I’m going to just…” Aramis leaned against the wall, sliding down to ease the horrible pounding in his injured head.

He forced himself to stay awake, trying to think of a plan of escape. Treville would realize the two of you were gone. Perhaps he would send Porthos or one of the others to search.

Aramis grimaced.

That would take too long. By the time anyone found the two of you, Lord Augustin would have put a bullet in Aramis’s skull, and… he didn’t want to think what would happen to you.

You’d have to work together to find a way out, to tell Treville and the King that the killer was a nobleman and you’d have to find decent evidence in order to convince the court that a member of ‘higher society’ was capable of such crimes, otherwise, they could simply frame some poor stable boy.

You’d seen it happen before.

“I’m sorry you were dragged into this,” you said softly.

Aramis laid his head back, shrugging. “It was my own fault. Not my mission, remember?” He gave you a smirk.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “That’s right. You should have minded your own businesses and then you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Ah, but then you’d miss my company.”

You snorted.

He closed his eyes.

And you both waited.

They came for him first.

Men in dark clothes- hired thugs, most likely- unlocked the stable cell door and slid it open.

You leapt to your feet, eyes on the pistols in their hands.

“Stay away,” you spat.

One of them sneered, taking a step toward you with his weapon aimed at your stomach. He ran a hand down your cheek.

“Oh, we’re not here for you, beautiful.” He pressed his gun against your soft skin. “Too bad though. I would have loved to have a chance to soften you up for the madman.”

“Leave her alone,” Aramis said, getting to his feet.

One of the other men kicked him back down, landing a blow to his leg and then his stomach once he was back on the ground.

Aramis groaned.

“Stop it,” you cried, jumping forward to try and intervene.

The blonde man with you caught you around the waist, holding you there while the other two continued to beat on the poor musketeer until blood dripped from his mouth and his breathing turned ragged.

The whimper fell from your lips before you really even understood why. “Aramis.” It almost felt like a prayer.

Whatever feeling had overtaken you in that moment gave you enough strength to break away from your captor, snatching his weapon in the process. You forced him back with a powerful shove.

“What in the-” He started, but the loud shot from his own weapon- and the bullet through his chest- silenced him.

Aramis took the moment of shock on his comrade's faces to cease his painful performance and swing his legs into theirs, knocking them both off their feet before they could turn their attentions and their weapons to you.

“Someone will have heard that,” he said.

“Then we better act quickly.” You grabbed the sword off the belt of the man you shot.

Aramis took both from the men on the ground.

You exchanged a look and ran out of the cell, taking the first turn you found and cutting down two more guards as you went.

“You know,” Aramis said, catching his breath, “we make a decent pair, you and I.”

You snorted. “They hit you too hard, soldier.”

He chuckled and continued down the corridor, leading the two of you into some kind of cellar, but not one for wine.

“My God,” you gasped, hand lifting to your lips in shock.

Before you laid the remains of at least half a dozen more women. The smell alone made your stomach turn.

“Monster,” Aramis muttered, eyes widening with every bloody sight.

The strangled women were just the beginning. Butchery was his real interest.

You swallowed back bile. “We need to get to Treville.”

Aramis simply nodded. Something inside of him snapped. He clenched his fists.

You noticed the tension in his back.

“We need to go.” When he didn’t move, you took his hand. “We’ll send someone to give them a proper burial,” you said. “But we can’t do that if we’re dead, Aramis.”

He nodded again. Aramis let you lead him out of that horrible room.

With his hand in yours, you felt as though the darkness in this house couldn’t reach you. This man who had infuriated you just hours earlier now filled you with the courage you needed to keep walking after seeing those poor women lying there.

You ducked into a smaller corridor to let a group of servants go by and to let Aramis rest. You could tell that his head injury still troubled him and you couldn’t have him fainting on you in the middle of a fight.

“We have our evidence now,” he said darkly. He shifted, his body brushing against yours with every move, every breath.

Having him pressed so close to you, you held your breath, afraid that if his skin brushed yours, you’d break completely.

“That could have been me,” you whispered, some of your panic from before seeping into your tone.

Aramis lifted a hand to your cheek. “We’re going to stop him.”

Perhaps it was the intensity of the moment or the terror of facing such a violent death that drew you to him. Or maybe it was just his eyes.

Aramis leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead.

And you let him.

You couldn’t remember you’d felt a man’s lips when you weren’t trying to draw information from them.

“We could find the exit,” he suggested. “Find Treville and bring him here to arrest the lord and lady.”

You looked at each other, knowing both of your answers without having to say anything.

The two of you took off down the hallway to arrest the Augustins yourselves.

The manor house felt more like a small castle the more you made your way down twisting corridors and endless stairs. With every careful step, Aramis was right behind you, stolen guns at the ready in case you ran into the villains.

Having always worked alone, you expected to feel more uncomfortable with him there. It was far more difficult to sneak two people around, but his presence provided more assistance than irritation. The idea of being in this place alone made your skin crawl.

“You there!” Someone shouted.

It was definitely harder to sneak two people around.

“It’s that musketeer!” Another guard shouted. “Get him!”

“You seem to be quite popular,” you muttered, whittling around and firing a shot into the chest of one of the incoming thugs.

“What can I say?” Aramis shot another. “I have that effect.”

You laughed, surprised by the light sound that came from you. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d truly laughed. Either his arrogance was growing on you or you were more rattled than you thought. Perhaps a mix of both.

The two of you stood back to back, fighting off more guards as they ran towards you from both sides of the hall.

“He has more guards than the king,” you exasperated.

“But not better ones.” He expertly disarmed his opponent, using the man’s sword to run him through.

“We’ll have to hurry. Lord and Lady Augustine will try to escape.” You took down another, clearing a path for the two of you to reach the upper chambers of the house. Grabbing Aramis by the arm you pulled him into a room with a heavy wooden door.

“We won’t be able to hold them off for long,” he said, pushing a heavy-looking table in front of the entrance.

You stared out in front of you. “We won’t have to.”

Aramis whipped around, finding the two owners of the house standing before you in front of a large dining room table.

“How nice of you to join us,” Lord Augustine said. He pulled out a chair. “I’ve heard so much about you mademoiselle.” His cold eyes shifted to the man beside you. “And you, musketeer.”

Aramis held out his sword. “Don’t come any closer.”

“You’re in my house. I don’t think it’s polite to give me any orders.” Augustine stepped towards you. “Such a fine neck…”

You shuddered.

Aramis put his arm in front of you. “I’m arresting you in the name of the king for the murder of at least a dozen French women.”

“We won’t be going anywhere,” Lady Augustine said. She pointed a pistol at your head over his shoulder. “Now drop your sword, musketeer, or I’ll be forced to cut this evening short.

Aramis lowered his voice. “I need you to reach into my trousers.”

“What?”

“There is a pistol tucked in my waistband that they failed to take away.”

“Why didn’t you use it before?” You hissed.

Lord and Lady Augustine exchanged confused and irritated looks.

“I’ve been saving it for something like this.” Honestly, in the chaos of the evening, he’d half forgotten it was there. He shifted closer to you to make it easier. “Just grab it.”

“You are a strange man,” you muttered. Keeping an eye on the woman aiming a weapon at you, your hand traveled across and down Aramis’ back.

He did his best not to shiver at your touch, liking it far too much given the situation.

“Make one more move and I’ll blow your head off,” Lady Augustine threatened.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that.” The Lord gave you a wide smile. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement. I’d hate for someone so fine to go to waste.”

“I’m going to enjoy this,” you growled.

Aramis’ shoulders tensed. “Do you have it?”

In answer, you raised the hidden weapon and fired it under his arm. The bullet struck Lady Augustine in the chest, propelling her backward and making her pistol clatter to the table.

Lord Augustine launched himself at Aramis, swinging a knife wildly, his cool exterior replaced by a rapid monster. His ferocity took Aramis by surprise, almost failing to deflect his first attack.

The two of them locked in battle and even in his weakened state, Aramis kept him at bay. But Lord Augustine’s fury was hard to combat. He knocked Aramis’ sword out of his hand and raised his own blade for a final strike.

A great shot rang through the room.

Aramis turned to find you clutching Lady Augustine’s pistol in your hands.

“For the women of Paris,” you muttered, letting the weapon fall from your exhausted grip.

Everything moved fairly quickly from there. Augustine’s guards were arrested for aiding him, the bodies from the basement were removed to be properly buried, and Treville was furious that Aramis went against him but could hardly say anything about the results.

But for all of the good that came out of it, Aramis hated every second for he was being hailed as the singular hero who solved the case and brought the killers to justice. You were left to the shadows of isolation and secrecy.

He hadn’t even been allowed to see you since the soldiers had arrived at the manor. It pained him more than he could explain. Being apart from you felt like being kicked as he had in the cell- over and over until all he could feel was the ache.

“What’s gotten into you?” Porthos asked, snapping his friend out of his trance. “Is that Augustine still bothering you?” He took the seat across from Aramis, shaking his head. “I’m just glad you shot the bastard. Men like that always have a way of escaping justice at a trial.”

Aramis opened his mouth to object, to announce that he hadn’t defeated the monster, that he’d almost been killed himself had it not been for the woman he couldn't get off his mind. But he felt Treville watching him from his office balcony and kept quiet.

“Aramis!” The Captain called down to him. He motioned for him to come with him and vanished behind his door.

“Must be in trouble,” Porthos muttered teasingly.

Aramis didn’t laugh.

He trudged up the steps with the memory of Augustine’s threats toward you playing on his mind. Aramis pushed through the door feeling weighed down by all of the events and emotions plaguing him for the last several days.

“You look like hell,” Treville sighed, leaning over his desk with a look of concern. “Come in. Sit.”

Aramis did as he was told without any of his usual banter or clever remarks.

Treville ran a hand down his face. “Have you mentioned the woman you worked with to anyone?”

Aramis shook his head.

“Good.” Treville took a seat. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, Y/N’s anonymity is imperative to her position with us. If anyone were to find out who she was or that she worked for me, it could put her in grave danger.”

“I understand.”

“However,” Treville blew out a breath, “since neither of you seem to be able to stop moping about it.” He waved to someone in the corner of the room.

You stepped forward.

Aramis jumped up out of his seat, eyes widening. “Y/N.”

“Hello Aramis,” you smiled.

For a man you’d wanted to shoot the first time you met him, the urge to run into his arms nearly overtook you.

Treville cleared his throat.

“I will give you two a moment to speak.” He eyed Aramis on the last word. “I can’t stand watching both of you sulk about anymore.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said quietly.

Aramis bowed slightly as the captain left.

The two of you turned back to each other.

And closed the space between you.

Aramis wrapped his arms around you, holding you as tight as he had when he held you in that horrible cell. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in his presence even as it broke down the wall you’d spent years building around yourself.

“I wasn’t sure what happened to you,” he said. “I knew that you were alright, but I haven’t been able to stop worrying.”

You pulled away to look into those eyes that had been in your dreams every night since you saw them first.

“I was concerned that perhaps your injuries were worse than you let on,” you laughed lightly. “But I’m sure you’ve encountered worse.”

“I can handle a bump on the head, I assure you,” Aramis smiled.

“I’m glad that the king’s finest can handle themselves.” You playfully poked his chest. “Even if they occasionally require a woman to rescue them.”

“I believe I rescued you first.”

You raised a brow. “Whatever helps your precious musketeer ego.”

Aramis chuckled, raising a hand to your cheek.

You leaned into his touch.

The two of you drew closer.

Abruptly, you pushed away. Your feet paced in front of the captain’s desk, trying to put distance between you and the man before you.

“What are we doing?” You exclaimed, running your fingers through your hair. “A week ago, I never would have thought twice about an assignment, but you have changed everything for me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Aramis wondered, taking a slow step toward you.

“You don’t understand, Aramis. I’m not like you.” Your heart, usually cold and guarded, was breaking as you spoke. “I don’t live in the day and the battles and the light. I live in the secrets of this city. I am a shadow. I’m not real.”

“You are.” He closed the space again, putting his hands on your arms. “You are real.”

“I am a lie,” you cried, shaking your head. “The things that I have to do… the depths to which I have had to sink in order to accomplish a mission… I could never ask you to live with that.”

“I don’t care about any of it.” He lifted his hand to your face again, running a thumb along your bottom lip. “Even if these lips speak lies, I know that there is truth in your heart.” He looked into your eyes. “And I know that you feel what I feel, otherwise you wouldn’t have come back to me.”

“Aramis-” You blinked back desperate tears. He was right, of course. You couldn't remember the last time you’d felt like this. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt.

Now it was you who closed the air between you, catching his lips with yours, finally letting yourself be true.

“And the rest is history,” Aramis beamed, kissing you as if it was for the first time.

The three men before you sat in awed silence. Porthos even looked to be on the verge of tears.

“That’s a beautiful story,” he said, clearing his throat to keep his emotions in check.

“Well, it was until the captain found out.” You winced at the memory.

Needless to say, Treville was far from thrilled that his top spy was seeing one of his more ostentatious soldiers. Things especially got messy when Porthos found out, followed by Athos. And now D’Artagnan.

“So what happened after that?” D’Artagnan wondered. “The two of you don’t exactly have a lot of time in between assignments, I imagine.”

Aramis shrugged. “I spent every minute I could with her. And with every minute, I fell more and more in love.”

“And what of the, um,” D’Artagnan cleared his throat, “more delicate parts of her work?”

Aramis shot him a look.

“We deal with it,” you said, pouring everyone more wine. “I do what I have to to protect this city and its people, just like the rest of you.”

“And she’s damn fine at her job.” Aramis kissed her cheek. “I can’t count all of the plots that have been defeated because of her courage and cunning.”

You glanced at him.

He cleared his throat. “Not that I know about any of the ones I’m definitely not supposed to know about.”

You rolled your eyes, rustled his hair, and pulled him in for another kiss.

“I’m glad she’s on our side,” Athos said, giving you a smirk.

“Here here,” Porthos cheered.

The five of you clinked your cups together.

It was a long and winding path that brought you here and an even longer one laid before you. But with these men to walk it beside you, with your loving husband to hold your hand along the way, it was a path you were more than happy to walk.

#the musketeers #aramis x reader #bbc musketeers #aramis #porthos #athos #d'artagnan #the musketeers imagines #santiago cabrera

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vivs-fics · 3 months ago

Text

Just As It Is

Bucky Barnes x Reader

College AU

No minors allowed. Read at your own discretion.

TW: Swearing, religious imagery, smoking, mention of underage drinking

Part 1

Dark clouds linger overhead, far too close for comfort. A twinge in the air and rain birds circling the sky makes unease swell in the pit of my stomach. A storm is brewing, something dark this way comes- and here I am walking down the street with no jacket, no umbrella and Bucky’s place nowhere in sight.

I quicken my pace. Shoes stomping heavily on the asphalt, desperate to outrun the impending shower- to no avail. Thunder claps, electricity crackles, the birds make their descent in the sky behind me and the floodgates of the dreaded downpour open. I feel the rain spilling through my hair, the chill crawling down my spine and soaking my clothes. I wish more than anything just to be inside, warm and in good company.

The D&D campaign tonight is one I’ve been looking forward to for weeks. Bucky let me in on a few minor details now and again. This story was meant to be his most enticing yet, described by the man himself as “a fuckin’ mind-blowing maelstrom of malice, monsters and murder.” He added that the alliteration was meant to captivate and create anticipation- fucking English majors.

I have a feeling we’ll be trekking through some haunted castle, infested by a lonesome vampire luring innocents into his clutches. I recall when the theory solidified for me, it was just a few days ago- after classes had ended for the semester. Bucky and I were meeting up on the benches on the edge of campus for our afternoon chit-chat and I convinced him to act out a snippet from the forthcoming adventure.

Bucky slinked behind me, fallen auburn leaves crunched under his boots and the chains on his pants clinked together- I held my breath as he brushed his fingers over the side of my neck. The touch was light, almost untactile- nevertheless my skin felt like it was lit ablaze. The flames spread, embers sizzled deep in my stomach, the red blaze surged through my arms, and it settled in the tips of my fingers.

Blood rushed to my ears and my heart pounded against my chest, I could feel his breath on my neck. “Are you scared, little bird? Or do the pleasures of the night entice you? Are you willing to take this journey and receive your hearts desires, or do you fear the lurking horrors may consume you before you reach the summit?” Bucky whispered. A shuddering breath escaped my lips, and I took a moment to compose myself, a shoddily concealed smile on my face, “Jamie is the whole campaign going to be voiced in that sultry, bad guy accent?”

He beamed, “I guess you’ll have to wait and see, sweetheart. You should, however, expect to be wowed beyond your wildest dreams.” He raised his right hand and touched it to his heart, “That’s your beloved dungeon master’s guarantee.”

He sat himself down on the bench next to me, the wood creaked under his weight, and I brought my eyes up to him- I found myself lost in the vast blue of his eyes.

God, he’s beautiful. Gazing upon the pastels of a rococo could not compare to him. The glittering of all Klimt’s work would never be able to culminate to the way he shines, my Bucky glows from the inside. The light in his eyes are millions of stars burning in the sky, had Van Gogh’s masterpiece been done today, surely Vincent would have drawn inspiration from them. The figures taken out of stone by the great Michelangelo wouldn’t amount to the statuesque beauty I see in him, skin smoother than marble and a face that could have only been carved by the divine.

“You alright, Birdie? Somethin’ on your mind?” His voice was smoother than honey, it dripped from his lips slowly and it covered me in its splendour. I shook my head. I couldn’t tell him. I wouldn’t allow myself to say just how much he means to me. I couldn’t risk ruining years of friendship and muddying the dynamic we have. We’re in tandem, parallel lines that are destined to run beside each other for as long as the universe allows.

“What’s up with the ‘Birdie’ thing, Buck? Were you inspired by my beady eyes or the way I flew down from the trees to see you today?” I jested in the hope it would cover up the black hole that would in the pit of my stomach.

His eyes drifted down, and his ring-clad hand pulled a fallen leaf fragment from my sweater. Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know, it was in my dialogue for the campaign. I thought I’d run with it, it’s cute. It suits you.” He leaned back, palms flat on the dark wood of the bench. He tilted his head back and flashed me a bashful smile.

I look toward him in earnest, and he continues his ramble, “No, actually, it’s stupid. Sorry, sweetheart.”

He shook his head, the beautiful cascade of brown hair framed his face and I retorted, “No, no. I was joking Jamie, I do like it. It’s just different, is all. You had me thinking someone usurped my title of your cherished sweetheart. I was just brainstorming my plan of action- you know- setting my targets and ensuring I could retrieve the name that’s rightfully mine.”

He sat up and rubbed his hands down the length of my arms, a comforting gesture. A reassuring one. Hands caressed me like the singed spine of a book salvaged from the fires of Alexandria- as if I were a priceless artefact not to be handled precariously. “Nobody could steal that from you, Birdie. And if you catch me callin’ anyone other than you, sweetheart, know that I’ve been body snatched and you need to come save me.”

A laugh escaped me, he knows just how to make me feel safe when I’m with him, in every capacity. Bucky wrapped himself around me, encompassing me in the warmth that melts the welts of my worries. It’ll be fine, I thought to myself. I can do this. Right?

Rain beating down on me like the mighty wrath of Zeus hauls me out of the fond memory and pushes me back into my very cold, very wet reality. In the distance I can see the living room light turn on in Bucky’s home, the exterior of it seemingly harsh and bitter but it’s filled with more love and acceptance than I’ve experienced elsewhere. The wind whistles riotously as I bang on the door, “Jamie! I’m getting hypothermia out here! Can you open the fucking door please?”

He emerges, brows furrowed, “Birdie, what are you doin’ here? The campaign isn’t for another hour,” Realising that I look like a drowned subway rat he ushers me inside, “Shit, sorry! Come on in sweetheart, uh- let’s get you dry.”

“Thank you, Jamie, truly. Really glad you didn’t decide to leave me outside to die.” I shiver out. He looks at me apologetically. Jesus those eyes. He could get away with murder with those eyes. He could glance at St. Peter at heaven’s gates and Bucky would be admonished of all his sins. He’d be allowed in and be given the best resting place Heaven has to offer without so much as a word. They’re soft, an endless Mediterranean blue- so captivating it would rival Narcissus and his reflection.

He disappears for a moment and emerges with a dry article of clothing. Bucky extends his hand to me, the soft grey fabric now within my reach.

“Here sweetheart, fresh shirt. You can go to the bathroom and change if you want. I’d offer my room but… truth be told, it’s a mess and I’d be embarrassed if you saw how I really lived.” He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I- uh- I can also grab a sweater for ya, if you’re still cold.” He adds, with a smile.

“Thanks, Buck.” A small grin graces my features, the cold that clung to me dissipates in the confines of his kindness. “My god, the Zeppelin shirt?” I clutch it to my chest and gasp dramatically. “Maybe I should walk to you in the rain more often, I don’t get this five-star treatment all the time.”

“Hush, sweetheart. You know I’d give you anything if you asked.” He retorts, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

After changing into something significantly more comfortable than the soaked fabric that clung to my skin, I return to the living room to find my knight in shining armour lighting a cigarette on the back porch. He turns to look at me and inhales, “You feelin’ better now?”

“Much,” I move to sit beside him on the battered porch swing, and tilt my body towards him, “Can I have a puff, Bucky? Light of my life, saviour of my world?” He smiles and puts the orange filter up to my lips, I breathe in. Letting the nicotine fill my lungs, I feel the menthol spread across my body, it tingles down my arms and a calm settles over me.

“You want one for yourself sweetheart, or would you prefer to smoke half of mine like always?” He cocks his head to the side and smiles.

“I’m fine with our arrangement just the way it is, Jamie.” I shift over and place my head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of head, a familiar gesture. For him it was a sign of reassurance, as if he was saying: ‘you’re going to be okay as long as I’m here.’

“Why’d you decide to come here so early, Birdie? You miss me that much?”

“Don’t flatter yourself James, I just needed a smoke.” Taking a long drag of the cigarette, I close my eyes- happy to finally be where I needed to be.

He hums in acknowledgement. “Of course, sweetheart.”

“You want me to help you set up?” I enquire and he shakes his head.

“Nope. I got it all sorted out, you can just sit and look pretty.” He places his thumb and index finger onto my chin and squeezes, his nose scrunches up and a smile graces his face. “Although, that shouldn’t be a problem for you sweetheart.”

“Are you calling me lazy, Barnes?”

“I’m callin’ you beautiful, Birdie.” He says simply, the words roll off his tongue with no more effort than a breath.

What I wouldn’t do for him to always look at me like this, with those azure eyes full of contentment. They’re warmer than the embrace of a summer’s day, than the encapsulating feel of steamy water in the bathtub, than a balmy breeze whispering past me on the beach.

“Oh, uh, Buck? I got you a little something.”

“What? You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart. You should know that you bein’ here is a gift in and of itself.”

A smile makes its way on to my face, and I chuckle, “Sure, but this is something that you absolutely need,” Sifting through the contents of my bag, I find it. A small black box with a glittery red bow on the top, “Here. Open it.”

With the unveiling of the contents of the box, Bucky’s face lights up- like a Christmas tree on December 25th. “No fuckin’ way, sweetheart.” He shakes my shoulders excitedly and promptly goes back to admiring his new possession, running his fingers over the cold metal links, “Holy shit, this is so cool. A fuckin’ chainmail pouch? Is this for my dice?”

“Yes! You can keep them all together now, I know they always end up in weird places after campaigns so I thought this could help.”

“Thank you, Birdie. This is amazing.” He laughs.

What an angelic sound- comparable only to the trumpets of heaven or the symphonies of a divine orchestra. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes, “I love it.”

I turn to face him, bending my leg up on the worn porch swing, the wood is soft under my skin, such a familiar feeling- upon which so many memories were made. Bucky moves closer to me, an indistinguishable look in his eyes. My breath halts, it feels as if my lungs were dipped in iron. My insides are hot and there’s a fluttering in my stomach. Why’s he staring at me like that? Am I melting? It feels like I’m melting. Come on, get a hold of yourself. It’s just Bucky, looking at you the way he always does.

A small smile graces his face, the edges of his lips lifting ever so slightly and the corners of his eyes crinkling up. He tilts his head to the side and places his hand on my cheek, his thumb shifting up and down so gently I almost don’t notice. I wonder if this is how people experience religious euphoria. Is this how it feels to be touched by the hand of God? Could the promise eternal peace be held within the fingers that are caressing my face? Is it possible that the divine culminated in this Adonis of a man?

An abrupt knocking at the door startles me and Bucky recoils, “Let me, uh, I- I’ll get it.”

“Bucky, open up already!” A woeful gust of wind screeches outside the door. “Jesus Christ, Barnes, I’m gonna grow old and rot before you let us in!” Sam yells, announcing his presence.

“Alright, alright! I’m comin’.” Bucky shuffles to the door, a twinge of annoyance laced in his tone. His demeanour, however, shifts when the boys come inside. He’s happy to see them, he always is. I am too, they’re some of my best friends. I won’t lie to myself though; I would have appreciated them arriving just a few minutes later- if for no reason other than quelling the sheer curiosity about what was going to happen.

“If it took you any longer, Buck, I would have assumed you were dead.” After hugging him, Steve sets down his bag and greets me, “Y/N, Hey! It’s so good to see you. We didn’t interrupt anything did we?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“No, no, Stevie- you’re all good. I missed you.” I ruffle his hair when he comes over for a hug, my actions are met with a disgruntled groan from the six-foot-three puppy of a man.

Nat pulls up behind me and I embrace her excitedly, “Nat, baby! How have you been? How’s your girl?” She slinks her arm around my neck and in return I put my arm around her waist.

“We’re alright, hon. Why? Have you reconsidered our request for a threesome?”

“Aw, Natasha don’t flatter yourself. We agreed to do it without you, obviously.” I give her a light pat on the back and turn away, going to greet Sam.

The rest of the group starts filtering in after a bit, Steve and Thor creating their usual ruckus.

“Alright sinners, are we ready for the campaign of the century?” Bucky announces, as he stands at the head of the table- a king ready to lead his troops into battle. A Greek god, blessing his subjects with the greatest gift- a myth, a legend, a story to be passed down ear-to-mouth and mouth-to-ear for generations to come. And we, his loyal subjects listening in earnest, hanging onto every vowel, every consonant as if it were our life force- sustaining us. His words igniting a bonfire to provide light and warmth as we make our way through this ominous cascade of casting spells, battling beasts and me trying not to visibly sweat because of that sultry voice Bucky is speaking in. Anxieties fly high as the six-hour campaign draws to a close.

“Xanaphia of Excelsior, you have travelled a distance incomparable to any other, you have seen nations built and destroyed, you have brazened the path to my home- a journey no man before you had been able to conquer. A path, little bird, no man should be able to survive.” Bucky narrates, his character so carved out and precise I almost don’t recognise him.

“Luckily for me, Alaric... I am no man.” I smile up at Bucky, he reciprocates- a genuine beam shines upon my face. I knew the Lord of the Rings reference would get to him. The rest of the room melts away, the cries of Sam telling me to finish the job and Scott excitedly banging his fists on the table become nothing but distant memories. Bucky stands, in all his glory- broad shoulders block the light behind him and a halo encompasses the edges of his physique. Is he an angel, or just the devil in ambient lighting? With his eyes piercing into mine like they are, I don’t think I could bring myself to care.

“No man indeed.” A corner of his mouth turns up, a devious smirk creeps onto his face. “So, little bird. What shall it be? I am completely at your mercy. You have me on my knees.”

Everyone perches on the edge of their seats at the final roll of the D20, the last dance between my character and the Vampire at the top the Hill approaches. To stab or to seduce, that is the question. Will I succumb to the pleasures of the night or fight my desires and kill him for my brethren, currently surrounded by ghouls? I should kiss him, right? A move to seduce could ensure that the Vampire lets the surviving members of my party go, whereas a move to kill him could result in everyone being murdered. This is purely a selfless choice.

“I’ll roll for charisma. I want to kiss you- him! Ahem- Alaric.” Heat rises in my cheeks and a pit forms in my stomach. Oh, my God.

A hush falls over the room, the booming of the dice upon the table is all that can be heard, save for the thudding of my heart that pounds in my ears. The resin contraption stills, and Bucky leans over to inspect what the gods have decided my fate shall be.

“A… a fuckin’ nat’ twenty.” He says in bewilderment, his voice barely above a whisper. And the crowd goes wild- jests and jeers come from all around the table.

“Alaric of the Hill concedes! Your kiss has bewitched him, congratulations. He decides to let your party go on the condition that you keep him company. Will you, Xanaphia, stay with Alaric and forgo all other quests?”

“Fuck yes.” I state triumphantly, relieved as all heaven that the risk I took paid off.

Celebratory drinks are raised, and toasts are made in my honour- to Xanaphia of Excelsior, she who could warm the heart of even the most cold-blooded of creatures.

Bucky gets the music going and Thor pours the drinks, perhaps the most dangerous of combinations. Bodies push against each other, the sounds of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me intertwine with the heavy breathing of the people in the room, dim lighting overhead makes for a danse macabre-esque sequence to play out around me. We are neither here, nor there. Dead, nor living. Could this be a man in front of me, or an angel? Deep shadows are carved under his cheekbones and his jaw is sharp under this light, threads of walnut hair are strewn across his face, moving with him to the music.

Rhythm flows through me, I lift my arms up close my eyes in sheer delight- being here with these people is all I could ask for.

Bucky is beckoned over to the kitchen and upon arrival, he laughs boisterously at something Sam says. Steve claps his shoulder and throws his head back as he always does when someone makes a stupid joke. I wonder if he knows that he lights up the room the way he does, if he has any idea of the fact that he could put the Nevada sun to shame, that all the bonfires in the world couldn’t amount to the warmth he brings to a room.

Well, perhaps this exact situation is not all I could ask for, but it will do just fine.

As the song reaches its summit Nat approaches me with an inebriated smile on her face, she reaches her hands out to me and interlocks her fingers with mine.

“Hey pretty girl, you havin’ fun?” the red head exclaims, her voice barely swimming above the music. We move together to the rhythm of the song; I sway my hips and look around the room, to find Bucky over by the counter, pouring himself another drink.

My eyes shift back to Nat, and I smile, “Of course, babe! It’s always a good time when you’re here.”

She lifts my hand and spins me before resuming our prior position. She raises a quizzical brow, “You sure, hon? Because you keep looking over in that direction.” Nat tilts her head towards Bucky. Of course she’d know. She’s like a bloodhound when it comes to people’s feelings, sniffing out the source for minor ticks in their facial muscles, every dilation of their pupils and apparently each longing stare in their direction. “Y/N, do you have something to tell me?”

I shake my head, grimacing slightly, “Don’t worry about it, babe. It’s fine.”

“No, uh-uh. Come on.” Nat takes my hand and pulls me through the room and to the restroom. She points at the clawfoot tub, “Sit. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nat, I really don’t want to talk about it right now.” I turn my gaze from her, mortified at the prospect of having to spill my feelings.

“Baby, if you like Bucky it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve suspected it for a while now.”

“How the fuck did you know? I thought I was good at hiding it, Nat.”

“Freshman year, orientation mixer. Do you remember that Y/N? Because I do. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that drunk. You vomited into a flower pot- really not a good look for you, baby. Bucky showed up in that black leather jacket and you physically faltered when you saw him. I had to hold you up for the better part of five minutes because your legs, and I quote, ‘couldn’t possibly stay solid with how fucking hot he looked.’”

“Oh my God!” I exclaim and put my head in my hands, “I have to dig a hole and hide away in it forever. Nat- that’s fucking awful. You never told me!”

“I assumed you’d bring it up when you wanted to talk about it,” She shrugs, as if she hadn’t just unearthed the one dirty little skeleton I would have liked to keep buried, “And you never did, hon. But it’s been years and you’re clearly still enamoured with him, and I feel like I’m entitled to a little bit of an explanation.” She takes a seat on the cold porcelain next to me, a half-smile decorates her face.

“Okay- you’re right and I’m sorry for not telling you before. I just couldn’t- I didn’t want to make it real. You know? Because if I admitted that he’s on my mind constantly and that he’s the only person I’ve really, truly wanted for fucking years, and that he makes me feel seen and heard and cared for in a way I never thought was possible- then there was a possibility of all that going away.” An exhale escapes me, and I look away from Nat- who seems less flabbergasted at this admission than I’d expect.

She places a supportive hand on my shoulder, “Baby- you know that man loves you, right? You’re his best friend, he’d never let you go like tha-”

“I know, I know.” I interject. “He’s my best friend too- but if it ever came up that I wanted more than what we had right now and he didn’t want that, then everything would fall apart. And you know that, Nat. Everything is perfect the way it is. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize it for anything, not even for my own feelings.” It’s a lie, deep down I know there will always be a part of me yearning, wanting, needing something just out of reach.

Perhaps it is a sacrifice I’d be willing to make. I could be the slaughtered lamb on a pyre, if it meant Bucky would be happy, if it meant he could get love and support and care from me and everyone around him, without me fucking everything up.

We’ve all been together since freshman year, some of us before that. We’re a family. For me to toss it aside in favor of this childish crush, it would be selfish. It would be building your home and setting it on fire, pushing a boulder up a hill just to push it down the same way, it would be Icarus flying into the sun and dying a horrible, fiery death.

“Hon, I love you but you’re really fuckin’ stupid sometimes.” Nat shakes her head with a small laugh.

“Stop it, Nat. I mean it. He’s never said anything about that- us, you know in that way- and… And he was dating that girl a couple months ago- what was her name? Jo-Ann?” I retort quickly, attempting to repress the feelings that arise from her steadfast argument.

“And do you remember when that ended? Less than two days after you and that asshole you were seeing broke up.” She bumps her shoulder against mine to drive her point forward. My eyebrows knit together at that, she’s not wrong. Technically.

“We all knew that was never going to last. She was so mean and self-involved. I mean- I know I can also be those things… and there’s nothing wrong with being a little bitchy and vain but at least when I do it, it’s classy and everyone loves it.” I jest in an attempt to shift her focus away from Bucky and I, but to no avail.

“Come on, hon. We all know why it didn’t work out. The real reason why.”

“Oh yeah, Nat?” I tilt my head to the side curiously. Music bleeds through the vacant space under the door and I can hear Sam singing along to the song, loudly and off key. It makes me smile. “And what is the real reason?”

“Because she wasn’t you.” She lays it out plainly. Her shoulders shrug in an almost exaggerated display of nonchalance.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Natasha. There- there’s no way.” My voice comes out a bit more strained than anticipated and I stand up from my seat on the bathtub.

“Fine, since you clearly don’t want to listen to reason... I’ll drop it for now, but you’ve got to understand that I meant everything I said. We can all see how head over heels he is for you, baby. You just- maybe you should talk to him about it.” She follows my lead in standing up- there’s an air of finality in her voice and I know our conversation is over.

I take the quick reprieve as Nat leaves the restroom to collect my thoughts. If the alcohol in my system didn’t make the room sway slightly, the revelations that Nat unleashed on me certainly did. I rest my hands on either side of the cool, white basin and look at myself in the mirror that stands proudly on the wall. Good god, pull yourself together. An abrupt knock on the door interrupts my much-needed mirror reflection time. “Occupied!” I yell out in the general direction of the door. For fucks sake, I can’t even get a moment of silence to think.

“Sweetheart? You alright in there?” Bucky’s voice sifts through the door and caresses my ears. His tone so soft, so full of warmth and concern- it makes my heart clench in my chest.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” I smooth down my shirt that had crumpled and gathered in the worst possible way as Natasha berated me about my lack of perception and emotional intelligence while we balanced on the edge of the bathtub.

“Can I come in?” He asks, almost tentatively- or at least as tentative as James Buchanan Barnes could sound. I quickly move to unlock the door and I let him in. His hair is slightly damp from what I assume could only be vigorous beer pong playing or dancing drunkenly to the music. Either way, I’m thankful for it. It's hot.

There’s a slight dusting of red along his cheeks, it is amplified as he gives me a lazy smile. “You alright, Birdie? Do I need to be concerned as to why you’re hiding out in the bathroom when you could be dancing or singing or losing to me at beer pong?”

“In your fuckin’ dreams, Jamie. Do I have to remind you about Thor’s Halloween beer pong tournament?” I raise my eyebrows in challenge and step closer to him, my arms folded across my chest.

Bucky lets out an exaggerated scoff, “That was beginner’s luck on your side. Had to be, sweetheart.” He follows suit and takes a small step toward me.

“Beginner’s luck? Three games in a row? I don’t think so, pretty boy.”

He smiles at me, his eyes searching my face. “Pretty boy, huh? That’s new.”

“Don’t change the subject, Barnes. I could beat you blindfolded, with one hand tied behind my back.” Smugness drips off my words and Bucky’s gaze darkens.

“You want to bet, little bird?” He towers over me now, arms on either side of the basin, confining me between him and the cold tile.

“Sure, why not? There’s no way you’d win anyways.” A deceptively sweet smile is plastered on my face in a challenge to him. My heart thumps loudly in my chest. I feel the blood rushing to my ears and butterflies erupt in my stomach. He’s so beautiful, it’s nearly impossible to stop myself from thinking about how much I’d like him to grab my face and kiss me.

“State your terms, sweetheart.” He backs up and folds his arms over each other across his chest.

“One round, first one to no cups wins. We can have one redemption shot each. And when I win… Hmm…” I tap my finger against my lips in contemplation for a moment, “When I win, you have to let me drive your car.”

His eyes widen slightly, and his lips move to form a small ‘o’ shape. “Sweetheart, you- you can’t possibly be serious. I don’t even let Steve drive my car.”

“I’m deadly serious. I’ve had my eye on it for a while now, to be quite honest. I would love to drive her down to the coast… Put the top down, play some trashy pop music on the speakers…” I taunt, my voice low and melodic.

“I…” He starts, but I cut him off before he can argue.

“Unless you’re chicken, that is. You scared, Jamie? Shaking in your boots over your inevitable, devastating loss?”

“No- I mean-” He takes a breath in and lifts his hands in surrender, “Fine. Fine. If you win, you can drive the car down to the beachfront. But I’m ridin’ shotgun.”

“I expected nothing less. It’ll be fun- we’ll make a day of it.” I say with a smile, my eyes light up at that prospect.

“You don’t want to know what I get if I win?” He pivots.

“Nope. Don’t need to. Because it’ll never happen. Come on, let’s play.” I tilt my head in the direction of the door and smirk at him with as much cheek as I could muster.

Bucky grabs my hand, returning the smile. He stops for a moment and stares at me, that same indecipherable look in his eyes from earlier. Our fingers are interlaced, one continuous string moves in between him and I.

It felt as if I’d be able to hear a pin drop, despite the hustle and bustle of the party raging on outside. I move to grab the door handle and exit the restroom when I feel him pull me back towards him. He grips my hand and pulls me flush against his chest.

“Bucky, what are you d-”

“You- I-” He clenches his jaw and exhales sharply. “I just- I wanted to tell you that you look beautiful tonight. Your- uh- your outfit looks good on you.”

“You mean your shirt? You mean to tell me that your most beloved article of clothing looks good universally?” I laugh out nervously, not wanting to mention the proximity.

“No- just on you. It looks- you look fuckin’ incredible, sweetheart.” He flashes me a lopsided smile and gives my shoulders a squeeze. “You can keep it. If you want.”

“You don’t need it? I thought this was your secret weapon that you used to bend all of mankind to your devilishly handsome will?”

“I could do that with or without the shirt, believe me.” He drawls out, the cocky bastard. His smile falters the tiniest bit, unease flashes across his features. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He clenches his jaw one final time and finds my hand again.

“Let's go.” Bucky leads me out of the bathroom to the outskirts of the party. The beer pong table is left uninhabited, red solo cups stacked messily from rounds passed.

Bucky quickly sets up the cups and I fetch the most tolerable beer I can find and start filling the cups in preparation of the battle ahead. I roll my neck and crack my knuckles before we begin- Bucky rolls his eyes at me with a laugh. “You ready, sweetheart?”

“The real question, James, is… are you ready?”

“Just play, smartass.” A cheeky smile appears on his face.

Something is wrong. Dear God, something is horrifyingly and incredibly wrong. Bucky is winning at beer pong. Never, in the history of us, had he even come close to beating me- except for tonight.

“What the fuck, Barnes? Have you been getting private beer pong lessons just for this?” I shoot and miss again. Third time in a row. I haven’t even hit the rim in the past few turns.

Could it be because Thor got too tipsy and spilled his drink all over Bucky’s little conservative long sleeve sweater and he had to go and change into one of those ridiculously stupid, sexy, (did I mention stupid? And also so, so very sexy) wife pleaser vests. His muscles are on full display- arms toned and chest rippling. Dear God. The alcohol buzzing around my system is screaming at me to bite his bicep- surely it wouldn’t be that weird, right? Just a little nibble...

No. What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to get a fucking grip. Perhaps a grip on those sculpted pecs while- No. Not doing that now.

Looking like the cat that ate the canary, Bucky wears the smuggest, filthiest grin on his face. “Oh, sweetheart…” He saunters over to my side of the table and picks up my last red solo cup- there is a small, orange ping pong ball floating tauntingly in the cool brown liquid. He fishes it out with his fingers it and sets it down on the table.

“Drink up.”

I flash him a glare, my eyes narrow as he brings the cup up to my lips. His eyes are trained on me as I gulp down the last of my drink.

“Good. Now let’s discuss my prize.” He removes the cup and wipes away a stray droplet of beer that escaped out the corner of my mouth, with his thumb. Without stopping, he brings that same digit to his lips and licks it. I feel frozen, dumbstruck, and I’m quite sure I look it. My jaw hangs open slightly as I watch him. I gulp, suddenly very thirsty.

“Cocky, weren’t you? Sweetheart?” he smirks and pinches my chin lightly with his pointer finger and his thumb. He gives me a light squeeze and retreats. The touch sends a shiver down my spine, goosebumps erupt down my arms and the delicious burn of desire settles in my stomach.

“Shut up, Barnes. I don’t know which devil you gave your soul to for skills like that, but I have got to say… that seems like a pretty good deal. You're alright." I admit defeat, my shoulders rise and I hold my hands up in surrender. I smile at him cheekily as he approaches. His steps are slow, deliberate. Wrapped in confidence and assuredness.

“So, Jamie. Your prize- what’ll it be?” I ask, after a small beat of silence.

We look at each other for a moment, just a single moment. Although, it doesn't feel that way. Lifetimes could have passed us by, empires could have risen and fallen- and I would still be lost in his eyes. The deep azure pierces my very soul. He blinks and clears his throat, looking to the floor almost embarrassedly.

"Buck? You alright?" I enquire, moving closer to him.

He chuckles and nods his head slowly.

“You know my cousin, Emma? She’s uh- she’s gettin’ married next Saturday and... And I need a date.” Earnest fills his words, and an irresistible, infuriatingly beautiful smile appears on his face.

I have to resist the urge to pinch myself, because this could only be a really fucked up, steamy dream. I’m silent for a beat, trying to comprehend exactly what he said and the implications behind that.

“I mean, sweetheart, only if you want to. If you- uh- like if you’re not into that, I can just go solo.” His voice holds a slight tremble at the end of his sentence. Holy shit- is he nervous?

“No, no! I am- I’d be into that. We can definitely go together.” I reassure him. My heart pounds against my ribcage, my cheeks heat and a bright smile finds its way onto my face.

“It’d just be better for my ma to think I’m seein’ someone. I know she’s gonna try pair me up with her neighbour’s daughter. Again.” His hands are dug deeply in his pockets, his Adams apple bobs as he swallows.

Realisation flashes on my face. Friends. He wants to go as friends who are pretending to be dating. Right, of course.

“Yeah, for sure. Uh- I’ve got you covered, Jamie.” My smile falters, only for a moment. His eyebrows scrunch together, concern flashing across his features. I give him a half-hearted smile.

“Alright, thanks Birdie. You’re a lifesaver.” He removes his hands from his pockets and claps them together. “You want another drink? I can make you somethin’ quick.”

“Sure, yeah. Do you still have that margarita mix? It was yummy.” I suggest, clumsily. I need to find my footing after that absolute emotional rollercoaster, so he will just have to excuse my unbecoming behavior.

People start filtering out one by one and soon, the disco lights are turned off and the soft, warm glow of the lamps fill the living room. I find myself leaning against Bucky on the worn leather couch, exhaustion weighs heavily on me, and I find my eyes flitting shut for a few moments at a time.

“Birdie? You wanna go to bed?” Bucky coos.

I grumble in response, not fully committed to giving him a proper answer.

He chuckles, it’s rich and dark and perfect. “You can take the guest bedroom if you want… Or do you want to sleep here, sweetheart?”

“Bed.” I manage to mumble, with half lidded eyes and a stifled yawn.

“Do you need me to walk you there? You good to do that, baby? Or should I carry you?” His voice is soft, full of compassion. Even drunk and exhausted, it makes my heart swell. I can’t help but smile- it’s lazy and probably not my most picture-perfect smile, but it’s there now.

“Just fucking carry me. I know you want to- you know I want you to.”

He laughs out and hops up to scoop me up from my position on the couch. His strong arms come up under me and Bucky carries me to the guest bedroom, he doesn’t even break a sweat. You’d swear he was a goddamn superhero or something.

Bucky lays me down gingerly and I shift to get comfortable as I feel the softness of the mattress beneath me. “Thank you, sweet Jamie. My sweet… sweet Jamie.” My eyes flutter shut and I nestle into the pillow.

“G’night, Birdie. Sweet dreams.” He leans down and presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. If I'd been more cognizant, perhaps I would've seen the way he smiled down at me from the side of the bed, eyes soft and full of care. Maybe I would have noticed his hesitance to leave, or the way he brought his fist up to his chest and rubbed it soothingly. Perhaps I would've picked up on the fact that his heart burned inside his chest for me, the same way mine did for him.

Hello everyone! This is the first part of my first ever series, I really hope you like it!

Please let me know what you all thought of it!

xoxo, Viv

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #mcu #james barnes #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky fluff #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction

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angstywaifu · 9 months ago

Text

The Lost Sister - Part 11

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC

A/N: Threshing is finally upon us! You finally get to meet Ophelia's dragon. Please let me know your thoughts on them. I would love to see it. I have left a photo of her dragon at the bottom, so if you do not want spoilers, do not go looking! The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

Threshing. The day we either walk out a rider or die trying to become one. Or come out without an dragon. And honestly I’m scared shitless. No amount of training can guarantee your survival, that’s all up to the dragons. As I look around the dining hall, I notice most of the first years are either eating small amounts of food or not at all. Some have even opted to skip the meal entirely. We’re all on edge today.

I force myself to eat another mouthful of food before pushing my plate away and making my way to threshing. I don’t get far before a hand grabs my arm and pulls me behind a pillar, my hands landing on the very solid chest of Garrick.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to pull you in so hard.” He says as he takes a step back, my hands falling to my sides.

For a moment we just look at each other, taking in the presence of each other. Besides me being dead for a few years, the last few weeks have been the longest we’ve ever gone without talking or being around each other. And judging by the slight shadows forming under his eyes as well as mine, it’s not doing either of us any good. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it at presentation day.

“Look, we don’t need to talk about that day. It can’t wait till after threshing.” He starts as he starts to nervously pace back and forth in front of me, his eye brows furrowed as he thinks about what he wants to say.

He stops in front of me, places his hands on my shoulders, his thumb tracing over the gauntlet patch that now adorns my uniform. A slight smile forming in his lips.

“But promise me you’ll do your best to come back out of there today.” His mouth opens as he goes to continue but he falls short as his eyes look down into mine.

He quickly pulls me into a hug tighter than the one he gave me on my first day here. I feel him instantly relax as I wrap my arms around him, and I’m sure he feels me do the same as I bury my head in his chest. He rest his head on top of mine, and I’m pretty sure I feel him press his lips to the top of my head.

“I don’t need to tell you good luck, you’re the best cadet in your year. Just make sure you come out alive, dragon or not. You’ve got this little one.” He whispers to me.

I don’t trust my voice right now with so many unspoken things between us. But I nod my head, which I know he feels by the way he tightens his grip on me for a brief second. Behind the pillar, tangled in our embrace, it almost feels like we’re in a world of our own. As if we’re far away from the reality of threshing that’s about to start. He releases his hold on me, and leans down and presses his lips to my forehead before departing. Garrick was never one to show emotion like that, so him leaving without another word doesn’t phase me. As he said we will talk after threshing. ———

The feeling I got in presentation day is back. Like something else is present in my mind. I look around for the glimpse of white but I find nothing. White dragons didn’t exist. I had to have seen something else that day. Another coloured dragon that had reflected off the sun weirdly. That had to be it. White dragons did not exist.

Are you sure?

The thought catches me off guard. Halting me in my tracks. I heard it in my head but it didn’t sound like my own. As if someone else was there. I look around the small clearing I’ve walked into but see nothing. I’m alone. Or so I thought.

Hot air cascades over me. The same hot air I felt on presentation day. Dragons breath. I turn slowly and come face to face with a large brown club tail dragon. It almost reminds me of Garrick’s dragon, but I know it’s not. Garrick has described his dragon to me before, and had even seen a projection of it in classes. Maybe Garrick and I would have matching brown dragons. But I know this dragon does not belong to me. It just doesn’t feel…. Right.

A loud thud echoes around the clearing, the ground shaking with it. The brown dragons eyes go wide before slowly stepping away. Almost as if it was… scared. In its eyes I catch a glimpse of white.

I slowly turn around, and behind me, perched on a large pile of rocks and boulders is one of the biggest dragon I’d ever seen. And the only white dragon I had ever seen. The white I’d seen on presentation day. But it’s not completely white. Its eyes, tips of its horns and dagger tail, and the webbing of its wings are all a bright crimson red. I’d seen red dragons before with white, or very light yellow bellies and under scales. But this dragon was the reverse of that. And honestly it was beautiful. I hear the brown club tail take off behind me, leaving me alone with the white dragon.

The dragon jumps off the rocks gracefully as it makes its way slowly over to me. Each step shaking the ground beneath me. When it’s close enough it leans its head down to me and looks me directly in the eyes. Up close I’m just reaching above its ankle.

Yes. You’re the one I’ve been looking for. Ophelia Riorson.

It’s the same voice I’d heard earlier. The same presence I had felt on presentation day. This was my dragon. The presence in my head changes to one of pride at my recognition of who this is. As if sensing the question I’m about to ask she speaks in my head.

You can call me Mealladh.

“Going to take me a bit to learn how to say that.”

She lets out a light chuckle at my remark. Good to know she can take a joke.

You will learn. We will hopefully have many years for you to get it right.

”I saw you. On presentation day. You were in the trees. Weren’t you?” I ask as I look her over.

Now that she is closer, I can see the underside of her is slightly darker than the rest. She’s grey underneath. Almost the perfect colour match to the clouds. She would be almost invisible from above.

She nods. I was there. I knew as soon as I saw you, that you would be my first rider. You are what I’ve been waiting for.

“Why me?” I ask her. She’s clearly not a young dragon. The way she holds her self, and the presence in my mind tells me she isn’t a new mature dragon. And if the leadership knew of a white dragon, we would have known about it. Why had she waited all this time? And why me?

Firstly I am not a white dragon. I am a red dragon. And the rest will come with time little one.

My eyes go wide at her nickname for me. The same nickname Garrick used for me.

She chuckles, hot air blowing over me. Now climb on, we have a show to put on. And I get the feeling we’re gonna cause a bit of commotion amongst your leadership when we land.

I climb up her leg with ease, and find my spot on her back easily and settle down. Clearly satisfied I’m in a good spot, she wastes no time on launching us into the air. In seconds we’re about the trees, soaring in the sky. In the distance I see the flight field. I didn’t realise how far I had walked. I must have been going faster than I thought. Mealladh puts me through a series of manoeuvres, seeing if I can keep my seat. But somehow I get it’s all for show, to please the leadership watching us down below.

A smile spreads across my face as we sore above the tree line, effortlessly gliding through the air. It almost feels like second nature to me. Like I was made for this. Made to be a dragon rider. But another part reminds me, Melgren had essentially trained me for this. I try to push the thought aside, but then it dawns on me. He will be in the flight field waiting. He will want to see if I survived threshing, and bonded a dragon he deemed worthy. Me bonding with Mealladh was definitely going to draw more attention to me from him.

As we start our decent I see we are one of the first ones back with only a few dragons down below. And I can feel all eyes on Mealladh and I. As we land nearly everyone takes a few steps forward as if they can’t believe what they’re seeing. I dismount from Mealladh with ease, and take a moment to look around the flight field. There’s only a handful of first years with dragons around me. None of them I recognise. I’m the first of my squad and wing to land.

Here goes nothing. I think as I start my walk down to the roll keeper and leadership, all looking at us with looks of disbelief.

You will be fine. Mealladh speaks in my head startling me. I’d almost forgotten she can hear my thoughts if I don’t shield her out. Not that I would want to.

About halfway to the roll keeper, a Brown Scorpiontail lands next to me, their rider dismounting in a rush, running around the front leg to look at me. Garrick. His eyes instantly meet mine and he smiles proudly at me. Relief evident in his eyes that I’ve made it back alive. Then his eyes shift to Mealladh behind me and his eyes go wide in disbelief. He looks up at Chradh who nods their head at Garrick, clearly having a conversation. Chradh must be why Garrick flew in so quickly. He must have sensed through the other dragons I had bonded.

I shift my focus forward as I near the roll keeper waiting for me. On her left is General Sorrengail. Violet’s mother. I had only met her a few times in my time at the college. She gives me a curt nod. On the roll keepers right. General Melgren. His eyes narrow at Mealladh and I.

“Interesting Dragon you have there Riorson. Different colouring for a Red Dragon.” Melgren states as I take my place. “Don’t think we’ve seen them before.”

I ignore his words and keep my focus on the roll keeper who is still staring at Mealladh behind me

“Ah, what is the name of your d-dragon? She stammers out nervously.

“Mealladh.” I state proudly before I turn to go back to my Dragon, not giving Melgren a chance to talk to me.

The entire way back I can feel his eyes on me. Watching my every move. I look up at Mealladh to see her glaring at Melgren behind me.

I don’t like him. A low growl echoes from her. I don’t have to turn to know she is talking about Melgren.

“Neither do I.” I swear I hear her chuckle at my response as I take my place beneath her as we wait for the other first years to come back.

Slowly the flight field fills with other first years and their bonded dragons. As I glance over the first years and their dragons, I see Garrick staring at Melgren who is still watching me like a hawk. Melgren is too focused on me to notice his gaze. If he did, Garrick would have a target on his back. Though something tells me he already does with the mark on his arm and how close he is to my brother.

It doesn’t take long for Melgren’s attention to deviate from me as Violet lands in the flight field with a dragon even bigger than mine. The unbonded black dragon at that. A flash of gold catches my eye and I spy the Golden Feathertail under the black dragons wing. The one others had talked about on presentation day. As Violet announces both the Black and Gold Dragon as hers, all hell breaks loose.

Part 12

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh Ophelia's Dragon - Mealladh

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the empyrean #garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #the fourth wing #garrick tavis imagine

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cumikering · 8 months ago

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Werewolf Keegan x reader 8

2.4k | angst How many times can you run from someone before they run from you? (part 1) (part 9/end)

An enemy sniper’s bullet went straight through Raider’s leg.

Keegan performed first aid on the collapsed K9, forcing his hands to not tremble from the dread. The bullet had miraculously missed his bones, but the blood still poured from the open flesh. While everyone had taken their masks off, Keegan kept his on. No one needed to know how many ugly tears he shed in silence as he helplessly held his whimpering best friend for the whole ride. He was losing too much, too soon.

Back in the city, in the waiting room of the veterinary hospital, his stare burnt onto the unassuming clock which appeared to move slower by the second. He called you from the hospital’s landline, the only thing that could distract him from everything that was going to shit, but you didn’t pick up.

He had been waiting for what felt like hours, his huffs heavy as he paced the empty room. Empty because since he arrived, the other patrons seemed to prefer to wait elsewhere, away from the man with the storm brewing in his eyes who gripped the seats next to him like he was about to fling them across the room.

When Raider made it out of his emergency surgery, Keegan let out his breath as his shoulder sagged in relief. He knelt next to his kennel, petting the K9 as he lay on his side with a loopy stare, his tail swaying weakly.

“I know you miss her, buddy. I’ll get her, okay?” He took his handkerchief out of his back pocket, placing it next to Raider. “Keep this safe for me.”

The sun was setting when Keegan made it to your apartment. Ideally, he’d visit with a bouquet and a rehearsed speech; alas the stars hadn’t aligned at the slightest the past few painstaking hours. In fact, they had been blown out of the fucking sky because when he got out of his SUV, you were in the courtyard heading to your building, a man next to you.

He slammed his door shut and stalked towards you. He had no right to – perhaps it was the remnants of his agitation, but he wanted to punch the dude for standing so close to you, making you smile and laugh like that. He was walking you to your door, were you going to invite him in? When it was just him on your arm weeks ago?

“I need to talk to you,” he declared.

Your eyes widened momentarily before you walked past him. He didn’t relent, following you.

“You blocked my number. I’ve been trying to reach you the past week.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Your voice was cold as you maintained your pace.

“Don’t think she wants you here.” The man stepped in front of him. “Why don’t you leave her alone, mate?”

Who the fuck was this green-eyed dude with the posh English accent telling him what to do? He might have been as tall as Keegan, but he didn’t look like he could survive half a punch.

“I’m not talking to you.” He didn’t spare the man another glance. “Raider got shot. He’s at the vet hospital.”

You stopped and turned to him. “W-what?”

“He made it out okay, but I thought you might want to see him.”

“Oh God,” you whispered. “Yes, I’d love to see him. Blake, I’m so sorry, I need to go.” You placed your hand on the man’s forearm.

“Are you sure?” He gripped your hand, wary eyes wandering to Keegan before going back to you.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’ll text you, okay?”

Keegan noticed the way you fiddled with your shirt as you rushed to his car. It was his first instinct to wrap his arm around you whenever you did so, but he caught himself before he made the contact.

“Who is he?” he asked as he drove off. “Was he the one who sent the flowers?”

“Why does it matter, Keegan?” you retorted, an edge in your voice.

“Just answer me.”

“Are you lying about Raider?” The venom dripped from your accusation.

“I’m not. Why would I do that?” He glanced at you. “You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I don’t actually. I don’t know you anymore.”

I’m jealous, okay? I want you all to myself. “Just… Tell me who he is and I won’t ask again,” he softened.

“It’s none of your business. And if you won’t shut up, let me out of the damn car right now because I’d rather walk on my own than hear your voice again.”

He decided it was enough of an answer who the man was.

During the silent drive to grab Raider’s things at his, the lump in his throat wouldn’t stop swelling, but he’d calmed down enough to not want to scream anymore. It didn’t matter if it was your date or your boyfriend. He’d accepted that he’d irrevocably messed up and nothing was going to change that.

You helped collect the K9’s favourite toys from the living room which was still a mess from him leaving in a hurry for his previous deployment. When he emerged from the bedroom, Raider’s blanket folded in hand, you were waiting by the door. As much as he wanted to stay in the delusion that there was still a sliver of hope of mending this, he understood he might never even get the chance to speak to you again with the way you wouldn’t look at him.

“I just… Can you hear me out? I just need 5 minutes. Please.” His fingers clenched around the soft fabric.

You spared him a glance. He took it as his cue to proceed.

“I wish I had the balls to say this sooner because this feels far too late now. I know you hate me, but at this point I’ve got nothing to lose. So I just… want to tell you I’m in love with you.”

Your stare didn’t waver.

“I want to parade you around to my teammates, take you home to meet my family, kiss you goodnight, every single night. I don’t know how you make me so happy, so alive. But I never said anything because…” He exhaled, arms dropping to his sides, fist clenching and releasing. “What happened to me was… You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I’m a w-”

“Is this a joke?” You scoffed. “I told you I won’t stop you if you wanted to leave, and you did. I only asked you to be honest and you couldn’t even do that. So save your sorry excuse for someone who’d buy it.”

His gaze fell to the floor. “It’s not an excuse,” he said lamely.

“What are you doing this for? Was it not enough that you left me hanging for a whole week? And- and I heard how you rushed out to leave that morning.” You swallowed. “You’re unbelievable. I shouldn’t have gone out with you, shouldn’t have kissed you. Shouldn’t have forgiven you or let you stay the night!”

Your words, like daggers to a bleeding wound, made it hard for him to breathe. His chest felt bound, icy, his fingertips tingled as his heartbeat echoed in his ears.

So he walked past you and left, the only thing he was good at - running away from problems. Because it hurt less than to see the anger, the disappointment in your face, knowing it was his fault.

In the hurry, he took Raider’s blanket with, but his buddy would have to wait. His skin scorched as he drove to the mountains, but this time, the pain didn’t dissolve after his transformation. He ran aimlessly, wailing and howling the pain away in the woods, blinded by the hot, white fire. Having had experienced nothing as agonising, he wished he had a weapon to just end it right there and then.

He didn’t even make it up the mountain when his legs bucked and he collapsed onto his side, heaving, like breathing through shrapnel impaled through his chest. His eyes didn’t stay open much longer, and he succumbed to the burn.

Keegan didn’t know how long he was out when he woke to his own pained scream, tears down his face in his human form. He ran his calloused hands down his body, but discovered no injury. With the ache in his chest, like a hole had been blown through it, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was reality. He got dressed and dragged his unsteady legs to his car, not feeling like he was all there.

It was in the dead of night when Keegan got to the vet hospital, but as Raider’s handler, the staff cleared him to visit anyway. At the clink of the kennel opening, the K9’s eyes flicked open to him, tail swaying twice before slumping to his side again.

He dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry, bud,” he whispered, rubbing his head. “I can’t do anything right. I couldn’t even get her to see you without fucking everything up.”

He reached behind the pooch, tucking him under the blanket, but his hand bumped onto something. It was his phone chew toy, the one you were supposed to bring with him.

You’d been there for Raider, despite how much Keegan had hurt you. You still cared even when you didn’t have to. You weren’t allowed to be this kind to someone like him.

Truly realising how much he’d lost, the gravity of it all, he choked out a sob. He didn’t care about having to live the rest of his days as a wolf, but losing you… He couldn’t handle that, yet the situation was the bitter fruit of his cowardice.

The city had long settled when the door to his apartment slammed shut. He didn't care if anyone screamed at his face for the noise at the hour either. He didn’t care about anything, but-

Wait. He smelt you.

You sat up on the couch, rubbing your eyes as they adjusted to the florescent lighting. He dove to his knees, arms around your waist.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he choked. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Why can’t you just be honest with me?” You stroked his hair.

“I’m always too scared. Of messing up, of losing you.” His embrace tightened, not caring if he smelt like earth and moss. He didn’t want to let go.

“You keep running away.”

He pulled away, puffy eyes meeting yours. “Can I show you? Do you trust me?”

You nodded. He went to the bathroom, leaving the door ajar before emerging in his wolf form. At the sight, you gasped, frozen in place. He took slow steps towards you, tail between his legs.

“You’re… You’re the wolf from the woods.”

His tail rose. You met him halfway, dropping to your knees to embrace him. He leaned into your hair, accepting that this could very well be the last time he could smell you like this. He pushed you onto your back, standing over you, nuzzling your neck he stained with his tears.

“I want to work things out, but… You keep making me feel like you don’t want me, when you can be kind to me.”

It took a blink of an eye for him to shift above you, now caging you under his body. “I do. I’ve never wanted anything as much. I’m sorry I don’t know how to handle myself and I keep hurting you.”

You cupped his face, wiping the tears off his cheeks.

He closed his eyes. “But I’ll be better. I have to be. For you.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, arms around his neck. The weight on his shoulders released, he could breathe again as the bound around his chest loosened. When you smiled against his lips, he pulled away.

“I’m not looking, but are you… Naked?” Your eyes stayed on his as you tried to bite back your laugh.

He gave you a sheepish smile. “I forgot again.”

You scratched the back of his head.

He sighed. He’d missed your smile beyond words. “I like it when you do that.”

“I know. Your tail told me as much.”

In bed, with you in his arms as the sun rose, he told you about the recon duty. How he had no idea what was happening to him for the first few months, how he could run faster and further, and healed from his injuries in no time at all. He recounted how he eventually got the hang of it until he met you.

“You smelt so good, better than peanut butter, but I didn’t think much of it. I thought it was impossible for me to have someone, a mate. Until that morning, I saw your birthmark, just like my scar.”

He explained the concept of mates, voice hushing as he detailed how the bond worked. His grip on you tightened without him meaning to - he wasn’t ready to know you didn’t feel as deeply towards him for the bond to seal. He braced for you to rip yourself off him, a scream, anything, at the ridiculous lore he told.

The air stilled. “Do you believe all this?”

“I don’t want to, but at this point everything feels more than a coincidence.”

“Then we should bond,” you stated. “The 7th full moon is less than two weeks away.”

“How do we know this is the right thing, or what’s going to happen to you?”

“We don’t, but I don’t care as long as it’s with you.”

“I’m not dragging you into this, peanut. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I love you, Keegan,” you mumbled.

Eyes wide, he sat up, gripping your shoulders. “What- what did you just say?”

You averted your gaze, biting down your smile.

“I love you, peanut. So fucking much.”

His heart soared. Your words melted his fears away, like balm on tender flesh. You cradled his face as he leaned into the smile that he wanted to worship every day.

The wolf fixed his mess after all, and all he had to do was be honest to his peanut, and trust that the universe wasn’t out to get him. With his yearning for you in his bones, maybe this time, he thought, it paid off to be a fighter of his own fate.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats @mangoguy @astraluminaaa @shadowlali @eve-lie @reelovesfictionalmen @writeforfandoms @milkteaarttime @blackthorncrown @dekitora

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pepi1989 · 29 days ago

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Hey there ❤️💃 love your stories! Ben’s been my fav for a while now and his stories? *chefs kiss* So fun and sweet, I absolutely love the slightly angsty one AND cuddly sweet ones 🥰

And it got me thinking and lost in daydreaming… how about a Ben one where tennisplayer! reader TM is mad at him, like seriously angry at him because he messed up for whatever reason and he works hard to get reader back?? Is that weird??

PS: also super happy everything went well with your surgery!

Hi babe! Thanks for the love 💖 I’m so happy you’ve been enjoying the stories!! And thank you so much for the kind words, everything’s going great now 💕

Making Amends - Ben Shelton

It’s not like I go around comparing myself to her. She's his ex, sure, but she was supposed to be out of the picture. And I didn’t mind when her name came up, Ben’s past is his past, just like mine is mine. But today, when I found out why he wasn’t there at practice? That was different.

We had a session planned, something fun, just the two of us hitting on the courts before the next tournament. I’d been looking forward to it all week. It’s our thing, the way we connect beyond the relationship stuff. So when I showed up, racket in hand, only to find out he wasn’t coming, because he was with her?

That stung.

I didn’t even want to know what he was doing with her. Something about helping her move, or some other lame excuse. But all I could hear was that he dropped everything for Olivia without even bothering to let me know. And suddenly, I’m the last priority.

My phone buzzes again. I glance at the screen.

Ben: Please just talk to me.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, fingers hovering over the screen, unsure if I should finally give in and answer. I’m so angry, but at the same time, the silence between us is starting to feel unbearable. We’ve never gone this long without talking.

Before I can stop myself, I hit “Call.”

The phone rings twice before he picks up, voice breathless like he’s been running.

“Y/N?” His voice cracks a little when he says my name, full of hope and worry.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, my voice low but sharp. I don’t waste time on pleasantries. There’s no point. “Why did you blow me off for her?”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, just long enough to make my heart sink. He’s searching for the right words, but I’ve already run through a thousand things in my head, and none of them make me feel better.

“I didn’t blow you off,” he says finally. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then explain it to me, because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like that.”

I hear him exhale deeply, like he’s trying to calm himself down before he speaks. “I know it looks bad, and I’m sorry I missed practice. But Olivia needed help, and I thought it’d be quick. I should’ve told you. I should’ve texted-”

“You should’ve,” I cut him off. “But you didn’t.”

He’s quiet again, and I can picture him, running his hand through his curls the way he does when he’s stressed. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” he says softly, “because Olivia doesn’t matter. She’s just someone I used to know. I didn’t think you’d care.”

That’s what gets me.

“I do care, Ben. I care when you blow me off without a word. I care when you don’t even think I deserve to know where you are.” My voice cracks, the frustration and hurt all bubbling to the surface. “I care when you make it feel like she’s more important than me.”

“I swear, she’s not.” He’s quick to reply, panic creeping into his voice. “She’s not. It was just… bad timing. You know I’d never choose her over you.”

“I don’t know that,” I say, my throat tight. “Because it feels like you did.”

He breathes out a curse, and I can tell he’s pacing now, probably somewhere in his apartment, trying to figure out how to make this right. “I messed up, I know I did. But please believe me, I was just trying to be helpful. That’s it. There’s nothing going on with Olivia.”

I close my eyes, leaning back against the wall, trying to steady my breathing. His voice sounds so sincere, but my mind is still spinning, replaying all the ways he didn’t choose me today. All the moments he could’ve told me and didn’t.

“What do you want me to say, Ben?” I ask, my voice quieter now, the fight starting to drain out of me. “That it’s okay? That I’m fine with this?”

“No.” His voice is firm, but gentle. “I don’t want you to just say it’s fine. I want you to tell me how I can make it right.”

I let out a shaky breath, pressing my fingers against my temple. “I don’t know.”

“I’ll do anything,” he says quickly, his voice softening. “I’ll make it up to you. Cancel whatever plans I have, make sure I never do this again. Just don’t shut me out, okay?”

I can hear the desperation in his voice, and for a moment, I wonder if maybe I’m being too harsh. But then I remember the empty courts, the way he didn’t show up for me today. I shake my head, even though he can’t see me.

“I just… I need some space right now.”

His silence feels heavy, like he’s holding his breath, trying to figure out what to say next. “Okay,” he finally whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll give you space. But I’m not giving up on us, okay? I’m going to fix this.”

I spend the next few days in this weird limbo, trying to sort out my feelings. Ben’s been good about giving me space like I asked, but the absence feels heavier than I expected. I miss him. But every time I think about texting him, that knot of frustration tightens again.

Then, on the third day, I find something waiting at my door.

A bouquet of flowers, wildflowers. There’s a note attached. I hesitate before picking it up, then unfold the paper carefully.

"I know I messed up. I just want to talk, please meet me at the courts? 7 PM. I’ll be waiting. - B"

I run my fingers over the handwriting, my chest tightening. It’s simple, but somehow, that makes it mean more. I know Ben, and I know that when he says he’ll be waiting, he will be, no matter how long it takes.

Part of me is still hesitant, the sting of our last conversation fresh in my mind. But I also know that if I keep pushing him away, I might lose him for real this time. And that scares me more than anything.

By the time 7 PM rolls around, I’m at the courts, the setting sun casting long shadows over the asphalt. My heart is racing as I spot him, standing there with his racket in hand, glancing around nervously. He sees me before I can even step onto the court, his brown eyes lighting up with relief.

“You came,” he breathes, walking towards me.

“I wasn’t sure if I would,” I admit, crossing my arms. “But I guess I’m here.”

He nods, swallowing hard like he’s trying to figure out where to start. “I know I messed up. I know I should’ve told you about Olivia, and I hate that I hurt you. You didn’t deserve that.”

I stare at him, trying to keep my face neutral, even though my heart is aching. “So why didn’t you?”

Ben lets out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time. But I get it now. I made it feel like you didn’t matter, and that’s the last thing I wanted to do. You’re everything to me. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and before I can stop myself, the wall I’d built around my heart starts to crumble. I drop my arms, looking down at the racket he’s holding.

“You brought the rackets,” I say quietly.

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Thought maybe we could practice, like we were supposed to. No interruptions this time. I promise.”

I bite my lip, the tension slowly leaving my body. I missed this, him, us, the way we understand each other even in the middle of all the mess. I take a deep breath, letting the last bit of anger slip away.

“Okay,” I finally say, stepping onto the court. “Let’s see if you can keep that promise.”

Ben’s smile widens, and I can tell he’s trying to hold back the excitement as he hands me a racket. “I’ll do more than that. I’ll prove to you I can be better.”

We play for a while, the rhythm of our movements familiar and comforting. Every hit feels like a small piece of the puzzle falling back into place, and slowly, the tension between us starts to lift. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

After an hour or so, I’m panting, bent over my knees, laughing as Ben grins at me from across the net.

“You still mad at me?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s a flicker of hope in his eyes.

I straighten up, wiping the sweat from my forehead. “I was pretty mad, yeah.”

“And now?”

I pretend to think about it, dragging out the silence just long enough for him to shift nervously on his feet. Then, I smile, really smile, for the first time in days. “I think you’re starting to make it up to me.”

He drops his racket and jogs over to my side of the net, eyes bright with relief. “Good, because I’ve got a lot more making up to do.”

Before I can reply, he pulls me into his arms, holding me tight like he’s afraid to let go. I wrap my arms around his waist, breathing in the familiar scent of him, and for the first time in days, I feel like everything might just be okay again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my hair. “I’ll never put you in that position again.”

“I know,” I say softly, resting my head against his chest. “I believe you.”

He pulls back just enough to look down at me, his brown eyes full of warmth and love. “You do?”

I nod, smiling up at him. “Yeah. I do.”

Ben grins, that boyish smile I fell in love with, and leans down to kiss me,soft, sweet, and full of all the promises I know he’ll keep.

#tennis x reader #ben shelton #ben shelton imagine #ben shelton x reader #tennis

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