#idk she passed a few months ago but it’s only been hitting me the last few days that she’s really gone and I miss her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cali-holland · 4 years ago

Text

An Irregular Romance ★ Harrison Osterfield One Shot

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield X Reader

Summary: Over five years ago, Harrison followed his heart (a.k.a. you) to drama school, and the day he asked you out was the day he discovered you had a boyfriend. He thought that part of his past was behind him, but then he was cast as Leo in The Irregulars and you were cast as Bea. Romance and shenanigans ensue as he tries to navigate the resurrection of his crush on you.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: spoilers for The Irregulars, swearing, drinking (reader gets v drunk at one point), cheating boyfriend + “open relationship” drama

Masterlist in bio

*Gif is not mine

A/N: inspired by harrison literally saying he followed the girl he liked to drama school but she didn’t like him back; the drama school is the brit school (idk if that’s what he was talking about but age wise it works better); also darci is 18+ in this fic bc it just fits better to make her around their age; plus i had to re-post this bc the tags didn’t work so rip

also just like to say a massive thank you to @duskholland for proofreading this for me :) you’re the best! this fic would be missing 90% of its commas if it wasn’t for you lmao

❁❁❁❁❁

Harrison had been buzzing with excitement all week. While he knew for sure that he had landed the role of Prince Leo in The Irregulars, he had no idea who the other cast members were. His agent learned from Netflix that they’d announce the cast on Saturday, so now here he sat, anxiously awaiting the news as he drank another pint with his good friends.

“Anything yet?” Tuwaine asked, refreshing his Twitter timeline.

“Nope.” Harrison said with a shake of his head as Netflix’s Instagram page remained unchanged as another minute went by.

“Maybe they’re announcing it at midnight.” Tom shrugged, trying to be useful to ease his friend’s nerves.

“Everyone would be asleep.” The blond replied before taking another long drink of his beer.

“Well, congratulations whenever they officially announce it.” Harry stated, standing up with his empty glass. “Next round’s on me.”

The conversation began to wander off, and Harrison found himself deep in thought, pondering his mysterious, new castmates. Would he like them? Would they like him? Were they big names or no names? Were they people he had screen-tested with (because, truthfully, he only screen-tested with a few girls, but even then, he didn’t screen test with all of the potential actresses)? As he got stuck, trying to think of someone he’d actually liked when they screen-tested together, he was snapped out of his thoughts by Tom yelling.

“It’s up!” Tom held his phone in the middle of the table as he, Harrison, Tuwaine, and Harry, who was now back with more beer, looked over the cast. A sense of pride soared through the group at Harrison’s picture and name being on the official Netflix page for The Irregulars. Harrison read over the other names, wondering if he knew any by happenstance. Just as he recognized one name in particular, Tom spoke up.

“Y/N Y/L/N? Isn’t that the girl you fancied in drama school?” Tom asked with a smirk. His smirk seemed to widen as Harrison blushed a deeper shade of red.

“No, no, no!” Harrison grumbled, taking out his phone to look over the post for himself because maybe, if he looked from his own account, the cast would magically change. When he looked at your name and picture right beside his, realization hit him. He slumped over, putting his head down on the table regretfully.

“I’d nearly forgotten about Haz’s girl that wasn’t his girl.” Tuwaine joked.

“Wait, what girl?” Harry questioned, out of the loop.

Perhaps the stupidest but best choice Harrison had ever made in his life was following you, his biggest crush, to drama school. Why his mother even let him chase after a girl like that was beyond him; he thought she should’ve advised him against it, but with the whole “follow your heart” attitude, his mum was his biggest supporter. He did his best to impress you, to get you to notice him, but you were unfazed by him. The day that he finally got the courage to ask you out was the day that he learned you’d had a boyfriend for the past two months.

Though he didn’t get the girl in drama school, he actually enjoyed it, and look where he ended up now— a new Netflix show was on the horizon for him. Despite the fact that he was (and still sort of is) crushed and embarrassed by the fact that you (very kindly) rejected him five years ago, drama school turned out to be a blessing.

“Harrison, here,” Tom laughed as he clapped his friend’s shoulder as Harrison still didn’t lift his head from his pitiful position, “thought he’d pursue acting because Y/N wanted to be an actress. He didn’t realize that in order to get her attention, he’d have to actually talk to her.”

That was enough to make Harrison lift his head, eyeing his friend questioningly. Cutting Tom off, he defended himself, “What do you mean? I did talk to her.”

“Right— you’d have maybe one conversation with her every three weeks.” Tom turned back to his brother, “Anyway, Haz finally asked her out and, turns out, she’d been dating this other guy for months.”

“Whatever. I only asked her out because you and Tuwaine shoved me into her. Maybe she doesn’t even remember me.” Harrison pulled out his phone to check over Netflix’s Instagram, wanting to see for himself the new cast again. When he opened the app, it notified him of all the new followers he had gotten, and, with one glance at the list of names, one account stood out to him.

‘@yourusername started following you’. Harrison let out a sigh, not wanting to dwell on this any further.

“She works fast.” Harry teased, looking over the blond’s shoulder.

“We’re co-stars now. She probably followed everyone else too.”

As if on cue, a new notification came through his Instagram— ‘@yourusername sent you a message’. With bated breath, he opened it to see the message that confirmed his worst fear— you remembered him.

‘Hey stranger! How have you been?’

❁❁❁❁❁

With every passing day, Harrison’s excitement for this new big project grew… but so did his dread about seeing you again. He wasn’t entirely sure now as to why his gut was filled with butterflies mixed with anxiety just thinking about you. You were only ever nice to him, both before and after he asked you out. It all led him back to the same conclusion that he still had a thing for you, but yet again, maybe it’s just life that your first real crush always has some power over you.

As he walked down the strangely long hallway to the conference room, he adjusted the collar of his letterman’s jacket. Today was the big day— the first table read for The Irregulars, and the first day he’d be confronted by you after all these years. Just on the other side of this door, his co-stars and the main production crew were waiting. Everything was real now; production would start in just a few days.

With one last nervous breath, he pushed open the heavy oak door and entered the room. People were chatting as they sat around the large conference table, which had small name cards at each seat. Harrison’s eyes found you almost immediately. You were locked into a conversation with your co-star, Darci, seated to your left for the table read. To your right was one of the last available seats, and Harrison’s name was on the little card on the table. All hopes of being unnoticed by you were instantaneously gone as he took his seat beside you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You said to Harrison with a laugh, and he was instantly reminded of how that laugh basically drove him to where he was today.

“How long has it been?” Harrison asked, trying to play it cool like he hadn’t been rehearsing this day in his mind for the past several months.

“Far too long.” You smiled.

As the last few people trickled into the room, introductions flew around the table as everyone met their new coworkers. After a cold read-through of the script and a few words from the show’s creator, the table read was deemed over. Just when Harrison thought he was free to forget about your existence for a few more days, you pulled him aside.

“Hey, Darci and I were going to get drinks with McKell and Jojo. You should come.” You offered, and Harrison chanced a glance across the room to where Darci was chatting with your other two main co-stars.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Harrison replied. He cleared his throat before giving you a definite nod that yes, that’d be a great idea.

“Perfect.”

And just like that, the five of you made your way across town to a pub. Darci had chosen the spot, explaining that it was the best place for drinks in Liverpool, and, seeing as she’d lived there her whole life, none of you tried to argue with her.

Harrison felt a strange pit in his stomach as everyone talked and laughed over some beers, as if you weren’t all strangers a few hours ago. His eyes always seemed to land on you and your contagious smile. You looked almost exactly how he remembered you, and you still were the same happy, go-lucky girl he’d fallen hard for. It was crazy to him how quickly you gave him butterflies, how effortlessly you made him feel like a silly schoolboy all over again. He couldn’t help but wonder if you thought he’d changed since his school days, too… or if you even thought about him enough to notice. So far, you’d made no indication that he was anyone besides an old friend from drama school, making him hope you didn’t remember that dreadful day.

As you and Darci excused yourself for a bathroom break, Harrison gave himself a little reminder that he was meant to be getting to know all of his co-stars right now and wasn’t meant to be focusing so intently on you. He took another sip of his beer, turning back to Jojo and McKell.

“So how do you and Y/N know each other?” McKell asked, and Jojo tried to hide his shit-eating grin behind his beer.

“Drama school, a few years ago.” Harrison replied, trying to play ignorant.

“Ah, so it’s a schoolboy crush, then?” Jojo questioned teasingly.

Harrison felt his face heat up. Jojo and McKell were practically strangers to him, and they already knew. He was cornered, “Is it that obvious?”

“A little.” McKell said while Jojo simultaneously replied, “Very.”

“Just ask her out.” Jojo encouraged.

“That’s the problem— I did.” Harrison replied, and both of their jaws dropped.

“No way. Did she let you down easy at least?” McKell’s voice was somewhere between a disbelieving, teasing, and pitiful tone.

Harrison scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Well, yeah? I mean she wasn’t rude about it, but it was still a bit awkward. She was dating this other guy at the time. He didn’t go to our school, though, so I had no clue about him.”

“That’s rough.” Jojo grimaced, before he gave Harrison a hopeful smile, “Maybe she’s single now.”

“I’ve been rejected by Y/N once— I don’t need her to reject me a second time.” He shook his head with a small laugh to conceal his embarrassment. He took a drink of his beer, hoping that would calm his nerves a little.

“Incoming,” McKell said quietly, nodding in the direction of the bathroom.

“What’d we miss?” Darci asked as she slipped back into her seat. You remained standing to put your jacket on, both you and Darci completely unaware of the boys’ conversation.

“Nothing, just Jojo being an idiot.” McKell joked, to which his newfound friend just punched him in the arm, taking another long drink of his beer.

“I think I might head back to the hotel.” Your words were met with a collective groan from three of your co-stars— Harrison silently frowned as he sipped on his beer.

As your head was down to collect your things, Jojo swiftly kicked Harrison under the table. Harrison looked at him quizzically, sending him a “what the hell was that for” look. When his co-star just nodded his head encouragingly towards you, Harrison got the idea.

“I’ll walk you.” Harrison said, making you look over at him. Standing up from his seat, he insisted, “I was just about to head out, too.”

“Okay,” You smiled, still completely unaware of his interaction with Jojo.

After you all exchanged phone numbers and created a group chat lovingly titled “The Irregz”, you and Harrison left the pub. You fell in step together, walking along the sidewalk in the chilly Liverpool air back to the hotel that you’d all be staying at for the next few months.

“So what have you been up to since graduation?” Harrison asked you, his hands deep in the pockets of his letterman’s jacket.

“All sorts of things, really.” You shrugged with a smile, “I got a few TV roles here and there, did some modeling, but so far none of it has really stuck, so I’m hopeful that this will be a foot in the door. What about you?”

“The same as you, really, but, instead of shows, I’ve done some short films.”

“I see you’re still best friends with Tom.” You said in a teasing tone. Harrison felt an unusual, upsetting tug on his heartstring. Not noticing any change in his demeanor, you continued with a laugh, “It’s funny. I would’ve placed my bets on you being world-famous after graduation.”

“Me?” He questioned, surprised by your words.

“Yeah, you didn’t go to LAMDA for nothing.” You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow, and he felt his cheeks heat up once more. “Don’t be modest— I’m not wrong.”

“Can’t argue with that logic.” A laugh passed his lips, any previous bashful reservations slowly fading away.

Before Harrison could say anything further, your phone began to ring. You fished it out of your pocket and barely looked at the caller ID before sending it to voicemail. Your actions were fast, but Harrison still caught the name of who was calling, Davey, followed by a red heart emoji. And that’s when it hit him— you were still with the same boyfriend from drama school, all those years ago.

And just like that, Harrison felt a tsunami wave of heartbreak from drama school wash over him.

“Hey, Y/N!” Harrison called out as he stumbled his way over to stall you from leaving school. He had one hand holding onto his book bag strap tight enough that his knuckles were turning white, and he shuffled his other through his hair.

“Hey, is everything alright?” You asked, concerned at how nervous he seemed.

“Yeah, um, well, tonight’s opening night for West Side Story, and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me? I know it’s your favorite play, and it’s one of mine too, so, yeah, I thought maybe we could go together?” He was sure that he’d never sounded so unsure of himself. Truth is, he didn’t want to ask you out right now, but Tom and Tuwaine had quite literally shoved him in your direction, physically encouraging him. He felt rushed and unprepared.

When you smiled so captivatingly and softly at him, he felt his racing heart speed up even more. Was this it? Was he really going to take you on a date? He thought to himself. His hopes weren’t up for long as you spoke up, “I can’t. I’ve already got tickets for tonight. I’m going with Davey.”

“Davey?”

“My boyfriend.” You replied, a hint of guilt in your voice.

His heart shattered. The only reason he was here, at this school, was because of you, and now he just had all of his hopes for any future dates with you thrown out the window.

“You and Davey are still together?” Harrison wondered aloud as you two arrived at the hotel.

“Yeah,” Your response was hesitant and quiet. He knew why— there was that elephant in the room between the two of you.

Before he could stop himself from mentioning it, he blurted out, “You don’t have to feel guilty about it, you know.”

You paused, watching unsure as he ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I kinda wonder what would’ve happened if I had said yes. Davey and I didn’t even end up seeing West Side Story, anyway, so I wonder if you and I would’ve ended up any differently.”

It wasn’t much, but his heart sped up ever so slightly— so you had thought about him, even in the dating context. Harrison couldn’t think of a response (his brain repeated “fuck Davey, ask her out again”) fast enough as you stopped at the front desk. You mumbled something about needing some towels, and Harrison took that as his cue to just continue walking. He bid you a quick farewell, wanting to escape to his room as fast as possible.

Nothing you had said tonight had been particularly flirty, but he still rewound the events in his head because maybe he missed something. As he laid down in his bed that night, his mind drifted off with thoughts of you, wondering just how he’d manage to pull off these next few months without falling for you all over again.

Over the next several weeks, his predicament only seemed to grow. Spending so much time with you (and your other three co-stars) just made Harrison wish even more that he’d asked you out sooner in drama school, and having to spend most of his screen time gawking over you added to it further. Maybe it was another school boy crush, or maybe it was intense method acting— either way, he definitely liked you.

Ever since he read the script for episode four, he knew that eventually your two characters would become romantically involved. He would’ve felt giddy over the thought (because his eighteen-year-old self would’ve died at this opportunity), but whenever he thought of the scene, he was reminded about your boyfriend. Harrison wasn’t the type of guy to hate his crush’s boyfriend, but something just didn’t seem right about Davey.

Harrison was lying on his hotel bed, reading over the episode’s script for what must have been the fifth time through that afternoon. It was Sunday, the day before you’d both film Leo and Bea’s kiss. With a beer on his side table and an array of highlighters beside it, he was set. As the words started to run together, and his glasses began to feel uncomfortable on his nose, he heard a knock at his door.

“Coming!” Harrison called out. Setting his script aside, he rolled off the bed. He was confused at who could possibly be at his door, but, figuring it was someone from set, he had the decency to slip on a white t-shirt, opting for not answering the door in nothing but grey sweats. He was thankful for his last-minute decision as he opened the door and was met with you on his doorstep. Smiling at you and leaning on the doorframe, he let out a small, “Hey.”

“Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to rehearse tomorrow’s scene.” You offered with a friendly smile on your face.

“Right now?” He asked, glancing back into his room to decipher if it was clean enough or not.

“Oh, is this a bad time?” You replied, subconsciously stepping back. “Is someone here?”

“What?” Harrison looked at you, confused before it clicked what you thought, “Oh, no, no. There’s no one here. I was just rehearsing, too.”

“So is that a yes then or-?” You trailed off.

“Yeah, come on in.” He opened his door fully, allowing you to step in. He chivalrously closed the door behind you. “Would you like water or anything?”

“Can I have a beer?” You asked, spotting the one on his nightstand.

“Sure.” Harrison nodded. While he got you a beer and grabbed his own half-consumed bottle and script, you settled on the couch with your pages in hand.

“Thank you.” You smiled as he handed you the beer, and you took a sip happily. “You know, I’m honestly so jealous of you this week.”

“Why?” He asked with a laugh, thrown off guard by your confession.

“You get to do all the palace scenes again.”

“I also throw myself off a balcony.”

“But still.” You insisted. “Leo really needs to sneak Bea into the palace just so I can have one of those extravagant ball dress scenes. I just want to feel like a princess, and I feel like it’s what Bea deserves.”

Harrison looked at you admiringly for a moment. “You are a princess.” His face dropped as soon as he realized he’d said his thoughts aloud. Coughing, he tried to cover it up, “I mean—- you were kind of princess-like in episode 3, right?”

“Smooth.” You laughed, but didn’t press the situation. Your phone began to ring, and Harrison watched as you rolled your eyes, declining the call and ultimately silencing your phone.

“Spam call?”

“More like clingy non-committal somewhat boyfriend.” You stated, rolling your eyes.

He furrowed his eyebrows, confused. You hadn’t mentioned Davey in the past few weeks— not that Harrison was complaining, but he just assumed you were private about your personal life. “I thought you and Davey were on good terms?”

“We are? I don’t know.” You sighed, taking a sip of your beer.

“If you’re not comfortable with the topic, we can just rehearse-”

“No, it’s fine. I just haven’t really talked about it with anyone. Before I came here, he asked about having an open relationship while I’m away, and I told him no. And the last time we talked, we got into an argument and that was a couple days ago. I’m not ready to talk to him, and at this point, I’d much rather talk to you than him. It’s very frustrating that he wants to have an open relationship, but he still expects me to be at his beck and call. It’s like he’s looking for someone to substitute me, but I can’t have a life of my own. He wasn’t the most supportive of me taking this job in the first place, too.” You paused, with a small shrug, “I know you’re probably thinking I should leave him, but I can’t. We’ve been together for 5 years. I don’t know anything else at this point.”

“I get it.” Harrison said softly, hesitantly resting a comforting hand on your knee. “He was your first love. It makes sense that it’s hard to move on.” He felt his own heart sink at his ironic words. After all, you were his first love.

“I wouldn’t say he’s my first love.” You said softly, placing your hand on his, squeezing it gently. “Plus, at this point, I wouldn’t even say I love him.”

A silence fell in the room. Harrison really didn’t know what to say now. He would have told you to leave him, but you already knew that, so what was the point in him repeating it? Besides, it was your relationship, and you needed to make the decision for yourself… or let Davey make it for you.

“Let’s go through the scene, yeah?” You asked, changing the topic. You dropped his hand to pick up your script again.

“Right.” Harrison mumbled to himself, flicking through the pages to the scene.

You glanced around his hotel suite for a moment, looking for something similar to a bridge rail to lean on. “Should we use the kitchen counter? As the bridge rail?”

“Yeah, that works.” He nodded. The two of you got up, scripts in hand. Harrison stood to your right, just as the stage direction had called for. There was some space between the two of you, enough room for Harrison to shuffle closer to you later, as scripted.

“You’re not on your own, Beatrice. You must remember that.” Harrison said to you, leaning on the counter but looking over to you with his icy blue eyes. “You’re very different to anyone I’ve ever met.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, looking at him curiously.

“You have something about you.” He started, awkwardly.

You cut him off, “Like a smell?”

“No, like a quality.” He chuckled softly before continuing, “I don’t know what it is, but I really like it.”

“Well, when you think of it, let me know.”

“I’ll be sure to.” He smiled at you, his confidence slowly building as the scene continued on. Harrison stepped closer to you until he was right beside you, leaning sideways on the counter. “And I’m not saying you don’t smell, by the way. I’m just saying that that’s not the thing.”

You laughed, turning your head away from him in disbelief. “You know, I was thinking of kissing you, but now I’m not gonna.”

Harrison paused, taking a moment to mentally hype himself up for what was about to happen, but also taking a moment because it was scripted for Leo to be nervous. “Well, uh, I suppose I have to kiss you then.”

You turned to him, smiling coyly. Slowly, Harrison closed his eyes and leaned in. His heart started racing faster as he felt your breath fan against his face before his lips finally found yours. It was gentle and hesitant, everything that it had been scripted to be. As much as he wanted to keep kissing you and keep tasting the sweet strawberries of your lipgloss, it had to end. He pulled away after a moment, and you seemed almost breathless as you opened your eyes to see him again.

“I meant it when I said you’re not on your own.” Harrison looked at you with more hesitancy this time, but he still kissed you with the softest passion. The script said that Leo and Bea kiss and continue to kiss for a few seconds; Harrison wasn’t counting, but he was sure this kiss was longer than it was meant to be. Again, he found himself dreading its inevitable end. If there was one thing he could do for the rest of his life, it’d be this… well, this amongst other things with you. His stomach started to stir with guilt as he remembered Davey; you were still technically in a relationship, open or not, arguing currently or not. But then it clicked with Harrison, you weren’t pulling away— no, you were fully kissing him back.

Before he could pull away and end the scene with his last few lines, a knock came from his door. Regretfully, he stepped away from you. He didn’t meet your eye as he went to answer the door while you read over the script on the counter. Flustered, he opened the door.

“Mum! You’re here.” Harrison’s eyes went wide, surprised to see his mother and his sister standing before him.

“Surprise!” She smiled, hugging him almost immediately. “We had to come and see you at your big job.”

“Are you not happy to see us?” Charlotte teased, and Harrison shook his head, pulling her in for a hug. As they all stepped into Harrison’s apartment, you waved from the kitchen.

“Hi.” You smiled, coming over to introduce yourself.

“Oh, mum, Charlotte, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my mum and Charlotte, my sister.” Harrison introduced the three of you.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N from drama school?” Phil said with a smile, making the connection as you shook her hand. Charlotte seemed to stifle a laugh as Harrison’s cheeks heated up.

“Yes, that sounds like me.” You laughed, brushing off any awkwardness that Harrison feared was there. “We were just rehearsing our scene for tomorrow.”

“Maybe we can come to set.” Phil suggested, sending Harrison an expectant look.

“I’ll have to ask. This is so, so last-minute, though, so I don’t know.” He replied.

“It’s a spontaneous weekend trip.” Charlotte clarified.

“We should get some dinner. We haven’t eaten much all day.” Phil told Harrison before turning to you, “Y/N, you should come, too. It’d be so lovely to get to know you.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You trailed off, glancing at Harrison. He sent you a silent look that said ‘she seriously does want you to come… If you don’t come, I won’t hear the end of it’. “I’d love to. I just need to go change first.”

You grabbed your script off the counter, and Harrison walked you to the door. “How long do you need?”

“Like 10 minutes?” You replied, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were coming, or that they’d invite you to dinner.” He said quietly, making you laugh.

“It’s fine, but I do have to warn you, if my parents spontaneously drop by, they don’t know who you are.” You teased.

He let out an embarrassed groan, “Let’s not talk about that.”

“See you in ten.” You sent him a wink before leaving to your own hotel room. As Harrison closed the door and turned back around, he was met with the smirking faces of his mother and sister.

“So, is there anything you want to tell us?” Phil asked.

“We were rehearsing. That’s all.” Harrison insisted, going through the wardrobe to find some clothes to change into for dinner.

“Huh,” Charlotte trailed off, crossing her arms. “So, you wearing sparkly lip gloss that matches Y/N’s is a coincidence?”

“It’s a kiss scene tomorrow. We rehearsed the lines and the kisses, too.” He explained. With a pair of jeans, a clean shirt, and his red letterman jacket in hand, he made his way to the bathroom.

“Oh, multiple kisses.” She teased, making him roll his eyes.

“She has a boyfriend!” Harrison ended the conversation, closing the door to the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, you returned back to Harrison’s room, and the four of you left, making your way to an Italian restaurant nearby. You and Harrison shared anecdotes about filming so far, keeping spoilers to a minimum until the server came with your food.

“We got in so much trouble from the makeup and hair department.” You laughed as Harrison finished telling them of how you two went on the playground last week, much to the chagrin of the crew.

“It was worth it.” He added.

“Who would’ve known you’d play a Netflix prince?” Charlotte asked teasingly, but it was clear she was still proud of his achievements.

“Look at that face. He couldn’t play anything but a prince.” You joked, and he smiled smugly.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He stated.

“Phil, I have to say, I’ve never met someone more well suited to play a well-mannered prince.” You told her, playfully pinching Harrison’s cheek beside you.

“I remember when there was a time he was revolted at the idea of playing a prince.” Phil said, her lips growing into a smirk, and Harrison knew exactly what that meant.

“Mum, no—“ He started, but you just shushed him, wanting to hear whatever embarrassing story was about to be told.

“He watched a single Batman movie growing up— and not even a good one at that, and decided he simply had to be Batman.” She explained. “Then the Christopher Nolan ones came out, and there was no stopping him.”

“Every kid wants to be a superhero, and Batman is simply the best one.” He said as if it was obvious.

“I didn’t know you had a Batman phase.” You teased.

“Phase? He still has posters and comic books and dolls.” Charlotte added.

“Action figures.” He corrected her, making you laugh at the humor of it all.

“You know, honestly, I think I still have Catwoman action figures.” You admitted, trying to make him feel better, and Phil’s eyes lit up as she remembered another story.

“I cleaned your room a couple weeks ago, Harrison, and I was surprised to see you still Anne Hathaway as Catwoman posters.”

“Do we really have to talk about that? Does this torture not end?” He groaned.

“Fine. That’s enough for tonight.” Phil let out a defeated sigh, clearly enjoying herself.

“Y/N, if you want the really embarrassing stories, you’ve got to talk to Tom. He’s told me embarrassing Harrison stories that I can’t say in front of mum.” Charlotte laughed, and Harrison’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head at his sister’s words.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled coyly.

“Sometimes, I wonder if he forgets that I know just as much embarrassing shit that he did growing up, too.” Harrison stated, shaking his head.

The night went on with minimal embarrassment on Harrison’s end. After Phil and Charlotte went back to their hotel, you and Harrison started the walk back to your own hotel. As you walked, your hands would brush against each other’s every so often, but neither of you made any move to take it further.

“Darci’s going to be so jealous in the morning.” You said, making him laugh a little.

“Why’s that?”

“That’s her favorite restaurant in town. Plus, I just got a free meal.” You laughed. A visible shiver coursed through you as the chilly night air picked up.

“Are you cold?” Harrison asked, already taking off his letterman’s jacket.

“Thank you.” You replied, taking his offer of warmth. Your short sleeves did nothing to shield you from the cold, but he had at least been prepared enough with long sleeves. “Are you sure you won’t get chilly?”

“I’ll be fine.” He reassured you.

“I had a really nice time tonight. I’m glad your mum invited me.” You admitted happily.

“Me, too. Apart from all of the embarrassment I just went through, I enjoyed tonight.”

“I never knew you had a secret Batman fanboy side.”

“I never knew you had a secret Catwoman fangirl side.” He countered with a smile.

“Guess that means we make a good team, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

As you smiled at him, completely content under the moonlight, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you right then, to taste the sweetness of your strawberry lip gloss again. The last bit of your walk was filled with you two arguing over Batwoman and Catwoman, two things that neither of you had ever realized you had in common before.

Harrison’s wish finally came true the next day, as you two ran through the kiss scene multiple times. It was strange at first for him, because his sister and mother were intently watching, proud to see him in action, even if it was just a kiss scene over and over again. But, with you there, he grew more and more comfortable with each take.

As a few more weeks passed by, Harrison thought that perhaps you and Davey had officially ended things, but then he heard through Darci that you had magically worked it out. Whatever magic it was, he was upset about it, and he found himself increasingly irritated at the mention of Davey.

“Ooh, we finally get to meet the Davey tonight?” Darci asked as the five of you enjoyed lunch in between shots. It had been two weeks Harrison’s mother and sister visited, and now Davey was coming, much to Harrison chagrin.

“He’s only here for two days.” You explained, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Ah, so you’ll be very busy, then.” McKell teased, suggestively nudging your side with his elbow. You brushed off his comment with a laugh, avoiding Harrison’s eyes.

“We should get him to do that calzone challenge with us.” Jojo said to Harrison. Although Jojo and McKell had been rather supportive of Harrison’s interest in you at the beginning, they seemed to forget about it most of the time now— for which he was actually kind of grateful.

The conversation couldn’t go any further as the director came into the room, holding the script in his hands. The look on his face told all of you that something was up. He looked between you and Harrison before speaking, “Change of plans for tomorrow. Eileen isn’t feeling well, so we’ll film Bea and Leo’s scene tomorrow instead of her scenes.”

“But tomorrow was supposed to be—“ You started, but cut yourself short, realizing there was no point in arguing. Schedules, plans, things all change, and this was just part of the job. “Never mind.”

“Well, tomorrow will be interesting.” Darci said quietly, voicing what was on everybody’s minds.

The director left with a silent nod, and the room fell silent for a moment. You and Harrison wouldn’t dare to look at each other, both of you feeling awkward suddenly. Making out with Harrison multiple times, especially with your boyfriend there, was not something either of you particularly enjoyed the thought of.

Having to film no more scenes today, Harrison went back to the hotel with Jojo and McKell. He didn’t end up seeing you for the rest of the day, but he was okay with that as he wanted to go as long as he could without meeting Davey. The director had taken some pity on the two of you, asking you to come in later in the morning instead of at 6 AM like usual.

Harrison made his way down to the hotel gym, wanting to utilize his newfound free time. Normally, he’d get his daily workout in after filming, but he didn’t see a reason to not get an early start today. He didn’t expect anyone to be up this early, but as he got closer to the gym, he could hear a voice coming from inside the room, the door cracked just slightly.

“Love, I promise I’ll be back in two days.” The stranger paused before continuing, “You know I’m only here for business, nothing else.”

Curious and trying to decide if he should even enter the room, Harrison snuck a quick glance through the crack in the doorway. He felt his blood run cold as he immediately recognized the guy sitting on the weight bench. Afterall, Harrison had looked at your social media enough to recognize your olive-skinned boyfriend, Davey.

“Bit early for you, isn’t it?” Harrison nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your voice from down the hall. He heard Davey mumbled something on the other side of the door, probably having heard your voice too.

“Yeah, but I just figured I’d start my pull-ups early today.” He replied before opening the door for you, acting like he had no clue that Davey had been in there.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Davey said to you, completely ignoring Harrison. He stood from his spot at the weight bench to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss you possessively.

“Davey, this is Harrison, he plays Leo. Harrison, this is Davey.” You introduced the two guys.

Davey looked Harrison up and down with his dark brown eyes and seemed to stand straighter, even though the blond was inches taller. Harrison was the first to step forward and politely outstretch a hand to the raven-haired guy before him. With a tight smile, Davey shook his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Davey turned back to you, “Spot me?”

“Actually, I wanted to-” Your eyes drifted over to the treadmill as Harrison got in position to start his pull-ups at the bar. Davey looked at you expectantly, and you nodded, silently agreeing to stand there and spot Davey while he bench pressed.

Slipping on his headphones and turning on some music, Harrison began his workout. He played his music loud enough to block out your conversations with Davey. Not only was it none of his business, but god, Harrison really hated everything about him already. Hearing silence between you and Davey when his song changed, Harrison spared a glance over towards you. He was surprised when he found your eyes trained on him or, rather, trained on his abdomen that seemed to stick out from his tight white shirt. Still unaware of his eyes on you, your own eyes trailed up to his arms, watching as they flexed with each pull-up. Feeling flustered by your fixed gaze, Harrison faltered a little, and your eyes immediately darted back to Davey in front of you. Harrison couldn’t help the proud smile that ghosted his lips as he continued— you were checking him out.

Harrison finished his workout and decided to get cleaned up before heading to set in half an hour, leaving you and Davey in the gym. When he left, he was surprised that you were still spotting Davey, getting no work out in like you had planned. The whole time he was getting cleaned up (and brushing his teeth repeatedly to ensure he had good breath), he just kept picturing your staring in his head. He had worked very hard to get his body in this shape, and he was very proud of himself too, but he was even prouder that you’d clearly taken notice. If anything, it almost excited him that they’d be filming this scene today. There were a few times in this episode specifically in which Leo is shirtless, but none of those scenes had been filmed— and if this scene was going to be anything like it was scripted to be, then you’d definitely get a better show than in the hotel gym.

He didn’t see you again until the two of you were on set, in full costume and makeup. He had a loose shirt on, but underneath it, his chest had been painted with blues and purples to make convincing bruises. As he went to his mark, Leo’s makeshift bed on the floor of the cellar, Harrison spotted Davey across the set, looking bored and unhappy. His blue eyes drifted over to you next, and he refrained himself from smirking as he noticed your makeup artist applying chapstick to your lips.

While you gathered your prop lantern and the lights dimmed around you all, Harrison made himself comfortable under the ragged blankets. The director called out “Action!” and Harrison closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep as he waited for you to come into the shot. Hearing your footsteps, Harrison stirred, blinking his eyes open.

“Bea, is everything alright?” He asked, looking up at you as you stood over him.

“Let me see your body.” You said definitively.

“Beatrice—” He started, but you cut him off.

“Show me, Leo. I want to see it.” At your words, Harrison shifted slowly, moving as if in pain. He pulled the blankets down and went to roll up his shirt. “Take your top off.”

He paused, looking at you questioningly with a hint of fear in his eyes. Groaning a little, Harrison sat up and removed his shirt. He looked at you expectantly, and you set aside the lantern before kneeling on the blankets beside him. Your hand drifted over the painted bruise tentatively, ghosting over the same abs that you had been studying just hours earlier. Harrison waited for you to deliver your next line, knowing he was scripted to kiss you after it. It felt like ages that he was waiting for you, wanting nothing more than to kiss you right now. His mind went blank as your eyes found his and you leaned in to kiss him.

It was unscripted, and he was surprised, but he didn’t let his surprise stop him from immediately kissing you back. Your chapstick tasted of strawberries, just as it had the last time the two of you had a kissing scene, and he swore he was in love with the taste of it. He expected to hear the director yell cut, to hear him question why you suddenly improvised, but when nothing came, he just continued to kiss you. You pulled back, a shy smile on your face, “I don’t want you to hide your body from me anymore. It’s too nice to be hidden.”

His heart leapt as he leaned forward to catch your lips once more, this time scripted. His hands shuffled to your waist, pulling you down to lay beside him as he rolled onto his side, his chest leaning over yours. Your fingers tangled into his hair, and he savored the feeling.

You pulled back again, whispering up to him, “No more hiding.”

“No more hiding.” He reaffirmed. As he continued to kiss you, his hands sensually wandered down your back, keeping you as close to him as possible. Part of him wanted to pause the intimate scene and pinch himself, just to make sure it was really happening, but he was worried if he stopped kissing you now that he’d never get the opportunity to kiss you like this again.

“Cut!” The director called, and Harrison reluctantly pulled away from you. He could’ve sworn a small frown passed your lips as he looked down at you, not having shifted off of you yet.

“Spearmint— my favorite.” You teased quietly, as if it was only for the two of you to hear. As you laughed underneath him, Harrison couldn’t help but wonder what his younger self would think if he knew he’d one day get to make out with Y/N Y/L/N. Even if it was just for the show, it was a sight that he’d always want to remember.

“I’ve always enjoyed the taste of strawberries.” He replied softly, rolling away from you.

The director ran you two through a couple pointers for the scene, and, to Harrison’s surprise, he even suggested Bea kissing Leo first, just like you had improvised. You reasoned that you forgot your line momentarily, but something about the way you kissed Harrison made him feel like that wasn’t the case; no, it seemed like you’d truly wanted to kiss him.

After running through the scene a few more times, the director was satisfied. While you stayed behind on set to film more scenes, Harrison returned to his hotel room. Just as he was searching his toiletry bag for some much-needed chapstick, his phone began to ring with a Facetime call. Seeing Harry’s contact photo light up on his screen, he accepted and set his phone aside momentarily. He didn’t need to wonder what Harry (and most likely Tom, Tuwaine and maybe even Sam) were calling about— he had made the dire mistake of telling his easily-excited best friends about today’s scene.

“Why are we looking at your ceiling?” Harry asked almost immediately.

“I’m, uh, looking for lip balm.” Harrison admitted quietly and smiled to himself when he found some. He quickly put it on and then grabbed his phone, heading to his bed where he could comfortably talk to his friends.

As expected, his friends let out an incoherent chorus of excitement. Sam seemed to calm down enough first to ask (more like, shout through the phone), “How was it?”

“Does she really kiss with tongue? Remember Jack used to say-” Tom started, and Harrison scoffed, hearing the name of one of their old classmates who swears he had a summer fling with you once.

“I still don’t believe him, but no, not today at least.” Harrison was honestly a bit embarrassed to admit it. You were in a relationship… with a possibly cheating moron, but still. It just didn’t feel right to talk about you in that way.

“Not today? So there could be another time!” Tuwaine shouted encouragingly.

“Is she still with that prick?” Tom asked.

“Yes, but,” Harrison paused, and they all looked at him expectantly, waiting for elaboration, “I think he might be cheating on her.”

“What makes you say that?” Harry questioned. “Mate, just because you fancy her doesn’t mean her boyfriend’s a cheater.”

“No, I mean I heard him on the phone, and he said he was in Liverpool for business, not for his girlfriend.” He reasoned, “I’m just very suspicious of him.”

“You should tell her if you think he is.” Sam stated, “If he isn’t, then, oh no, you’re on bad terms with her boyfriend, who probably already hates you after today. If he is, well, she’d hate you if she finds out you kept it from her.”

Harrison let out a small sigh as the others nodded. “I don’t know. It’s not my place. Besides, she said something a few weeks about him wanting an open relationship. Maybe it’s that?”

“Okay, look, forget I asked about him.” Tom said, shaking his head, while the others looked at Harrison skeptically through the phone, “How was it to finally have your drama school dreams fulfilled?”

“Fucking heaven.” Harrison admitted with a laugh.

For the next week, Harrison resisted the urge to tell you about Davey. He wanted to, he really did, but whenever he’d finally be alone with you and mentally prepare himself for the conversation, you would always just seem so happy and content. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb your happiness, especially when it was Harrison making you happy. After Davey left, it’s like something changed within you, and Harrison had no clue what it was, but he enjoyed it.

‘You have to tell her.’ Harrison read over his most recent text from Tom again. He let out a small sigh, trying to get the courage to tell you as you sat across from him at the booth.

It was Saturday, and you two, along with Darci, Jojo, and McKell, had made your way to a club, wanting to celebrate another week down. With only two episodes left to film, you all knew your time together was starting to run low. You were all a few drinks in by now, happily buzzed. Jojo and McKell were off somewhere, probably attempting to be each other’s wingmen. Darci was telling you a story so wild that Harrison wondered if it was even true. He finished the rest of his drink and shuffled out of the booth.

“I’m going to grab another drink.” Harrison said to you two, and, without waiting for a response, he left. He made no move to flag down the bartender, leaning against an empty spot in the bar. Pulling on the collar of his blue shirt, he started to feel hot, unsure if he could handle this.

“What happened to getting another drink?” You asked him, stepping up beside him.

“Where’s Darci?” He replied, not wanting to answer your question.

“Found a friend in the crowd.” You laughed and turned to flag down the bartender. You ordered a round of shots, to Harrison’s surprise.

“Are you good?” He asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” You nodded, but with how your eyes were glazed over the alcohol and another unreadable emotion, Harrison didn’t quite believe you. Playfully, you nudged him, “I should ask you the same thing. You’re the one who’s been moping all night for god knows why.”

“I haven’t been moping.” He argued as a tray of four shots was placed in front of you two. You handed one to him and took one for yourself.

“Cheers to another week done.” You clinked your shot glass against his before both of you downed them.

As you went to grab your second shot, Harrison reached a hand and stopped you. Concerned, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Davey and I broke up— for good this time.” You admitted, and his hold on your wrist softened while he looked at you pitifully. “He told me when he was here that he went through with his ‘open relationship’ plan, even though I never agreed to it, so he’s been basically cheating on me since I left for this job. Then tonight, he drunkenly texts me, and I know it’s just a booty call. He’s done it for years, but now I actually see it for what it is. So now, my shitty boyfriend is gone, I’m finally single, and my only plans for tonight is to get properly drunk. Maybe even hookup with a stranger— god knows it’s been a while since I had decent sex.” Harrison was speechless, and you continued, a smile finding its way to your face at the end of your venting. “Dance with me after this shot?”

“Do I have a choice?” He asked playfully, feeling your mood lighten once more. You winked at him, handing him a full shot glass. He made a mental note to keep a close eye on you and to keep you from drinking anymore.

After you both drank back the burning liquid, you grabbed his hand and pulled him out to the dancefloor. Harrison had felt the alcohol that was flooding his system earlier, but the colored lights, pounding music, and countless bodies around him seemed to make the alcohol hit him harder. There was a weight off his shoulders, knowing you were actually single as you danced with him, and yet he still felt strange about his current state with you— were you truly into him or was he just the first guy you could drunkenly hook up with?

You turned to face him, a small frown on your face, “Haz, you’re being a bit of a killjoy.”

It was then that he realized, while you were fully grinding on his body, he was relatively motionless. Your hands found his, and you planted one on your hip and another on the small of your back, low enough though that it teetered being on your ass. You leaned in closer to him, letting him get a whiff of your perfume. While one of your hands trailed along the hem of his shirt, daring to even dip below his shirt, the other traced through his hair.

As you planted a kiss on Harrison’s neck, not caring at all for the dancing bodies around you, you heard him let out a strangled groan of your name. Your nails light scratched over the deep V in his hips, hooking onto where his jeans met the line.

“Should we get out of here?” You asked Harrison, your lips right next to his ear as your voice dripped with seduction. He felt his heart flip with intoxicating excitement before he was immediately reminded of the gravity of the situation. You went to kiss him, but he moved back quickly, stepping out of your reach. Pouting, you asked, “Do you not want me? After all this time?”

“No, I do.” Harrison insisted. “I want you, but not like this, not when you’re drunk. You’re not in the right headspace for this. I don’t want to be your drunken rebound.”

“How can you be a rebound when it’s always been you?”

Harrison sighed. Oh, how much he’d love to hear that from you— sober. He was saved from having to reply when Darci, McKell, and Jojo found you two. They looked at the two of you skeptically, but Harrison just shook his head.

“I’m going to take Y/N back to the hotel.” He said as he stepped closer to the group so that they could hear him over the music.

“We’ll come, too.” Jojo insisted, even though, with his words slurred and his eyes glazed over, he was thoroughly drunk, too.

“Where did Y/N go?” McKell asked, realizing your sudden absence.

“Oh god,” Harrison muttered, and the four of them dispersed in the crowd to find you, tripping over the other sweaty bodies. Darci found you first, unable to stop you from having a couple more shots.

“No, no, you’re done.” She argued with you. You reached for the last shot that she had taken from you, but, in your intoxicated state, you easily lost your balance. Harrison quickly wrapped an arm around your waist to hold you up.

“I don’t think she can walk.” Jojo commented.

“What gave that away?” McKell asked sarcastically.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” With a small sigh, Harrison, as the most sober of the group (though he still felt fairly tipsy), proceeded to lead you out of the club.

Darci hailed a cab for the five of you, and while it was an illegally tight fit, you all made it work. You leaned on Harrison as he was pressed right up against you. On your other side sat Jojo. You mumbled softly to Harrison, one of your hands falling onto his knee, “Do you remember that year when they put up mistletoe at school?”

“Where are you going with this?” He asked you softly.

“I saw you kiss Vivian at the one outside of the gym, and I couldn’t walk in that area for three months without thinking of you. I was so jealous of her, and you just looked like such a good kisser, which I’m happy to report you are.”

“Babes, maybe stop with the drunk talking.” Darci said, because all of you could tell this was stuff sober you would never say.

Harrison looked at you in surprise— he barely even remembered when Vivian dragged him under the mistletoe, so the fact that you remembered and were jealous? And you said he was a good kisser, too. He felt a glimmer of pride overcome him.

“Ask me tomorrow, it’s the truth.” You shuffled in your seat, laying your head against Jojo’s shoulder, “Jojo, wanna know a secret?”

“Y/N, maybe-” Darci started, but Jojo cut her off.

“No, go on, Y/N.” He laughed, wanting to hear your drunk thoughts.

“Do you think I’d make a good Catwoman?” You asked, words slurring together as you grew tired.

“Catwoman? Like Anne Hathaway?” He questioned, and you hummed a ‘yes’. “Yeah, you’d make a good Catwoman.”

“Good. Tell Haz he needs to my Batman then.” Your voice was quiet, as if it was something just meant for the two of you to hear, but your voice wasn’t nearly as soft as you had thought it was, meaning Harrison and the rest of your friends were truly aware of your little drunken secret

“Okay, I’ll tell him.” Jojo reassured you, a shit-eating grin on his face as he glanced over your head to look at the embarrassed Harrison.

The rest of the car ride was silent, and Harrison helped you out of your seat. With the help of the others, he got you safely inside your hotel room. Everyone retreated to their own rooms, except for Harrison who stayed with you. He laid you down on your bed and went searching for your pajamas, which to his luck were stowed underneath your pillow.

“Can you change or—?” Harrison asked, holding out the clothes to you

“I’ve got it, though I wouldn’t mind you helping.” You said with a wink. As you started to change out of your club clothes, Harrison turned away from you and focused on getting out some much-needed pain reliever and a glass of water for you to have in the morning. He heard you shuffle on the bed behind him before you let out a small huff, “Hazzy, can you come here?”

Hazzy— that was a new nickname. To his surprise, you were already tucked up in bed, your previously worn clothes scattered on the floor around you. He set the water and meds on your nightstand before kneeling to your level, “What’s wrong, love?”

“Do you know why Davey wasn’t my first love?” You asked quietly, your eyes beginning to droop with sleep. You reached a hand out to tentatively run your fingers over his cheek before you cupped it, smiling softly at him.

He had a hunch, but he played along anyway, wanting to hear you say it, in case he never heard it again. “Why?”

“Because you were.” Your voice was so quiet that he barely heard you, but he was so glad that he did. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, and you let your hand fall from his face.

“Get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“Can you stay tonight? Please?”

“Of course, love.” Harrison stood to his full height, and when he looked at you again, you were already asleep. He softly readjusted the blankets on your bed to make sure you were warm enough, before he made his way over to the couch. Grabbing a throw blanket off the back of the couch, he settled into his bed for the night. Just like every other night lately, he drifted off thinking of you, but this time, there was an excited flutter in his heart.

The next day, Harrison woke up to you letting out a groan, loudly asking, “Why the fuck is it so bright in here?”

He slowly sat up from the couch to check on you. A smile crossed his face as you took the pain meds he’d left out and downed the glass of water. Your eyes seemed to bulge out of your head when you noticed his presence in the room. Laughing, he greeted you, “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Please tell me you miraculously don’t remember anything I said last night because I remember, and I don’t want to.” You said, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Sorry to disappoint then.” He sent you a sympathetic smile.

With a sigh, you patted the spot beside you on your bed. Wordlessly, Harrison got up from the couch and came to sit beside you on the bed. He expected you to say something, but when you were silent, seemingly caught up in your thoughts, he spoke up, “Did you mean it? When you said I was your first love?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in your reply, and you turned to finally meet his eye, “It was a very intense schoolgirl crush, hence why I hated Vivian after that mistletoe incident, but seeing you again just made me realize that it was more than just a crush. I’ve regretted saying no to you all those years ago ever since you came back into my life.”

“Well, I thought I was over my crush on you, but turns out, there are just some things time can’t change.”

A comfortable silence overfell you two again before you finally spoke up with the words that had been on your mind for weeks, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“I think I’m in love with you, too.” Harrison sealed his words by leaning in to kiss you.

With no script to follow now, he felt fireworks as you kissed him back. One of your hands drifted to the back of his neck, silently urging him to continue kissing you. His hands snaked around your waist before he shifted to lay on his back, rolling you on top of him. You deepened the kiss, your tongue finding its way into his mouth. He moaned at first, fully enjoying himself, before his lips curved into a smile, and he started to laugh against your lips.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, pulling away from his lips. His hands wandered from your hips up to where your own hands were resting on his chest, and he casually intertwined your fingers.

“It’s nothing.” He said in an attempt to play it off, but the smile on his face told you that whatever he was thinking was hilarious to him. “You remember Jack Evans? He told everyone that you were the best french kisser in school, and, well, he’s not wrong.”

You let out a scoff before giggling to yourself, “First of all, how many girls have you french kissed from drama school and should I be jealous? Second of all, Jack was an ass who couldn’t kiss for shit, but I’ll take it as a compliment that he told everyone that.” You leaned down until your lips were just barely touching, “And thirdly, do you want to keep talking about drama school, or do you want me to keep kissing you?”

“You don’t need to be jealous, but I kinda like that you are.” He replied with a cheeky smile. “And you’re right. He was an ass.”

“And for the last one?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

Harrison pretended to think about it for a second before he let go of your hand to cup your cheek, bringing your lips crashing back down to his.

#harrison osterfield #haz osterfield #the irregulars #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield one shot #harrison osterfield fic #harrison osterfield x you #haz osterfield x reader #haz osterfield x you

294 notes · View notes

ilovebokutokoutaro · 3 years ago

Text

Faded

Langa x reader

Warnings : self harm, mental abuse, physical abuse, crying, screaming, abandoning, depression, blood and angst and angst, not proofread.

Overview : Angst.

When your boyfriend, langa, left for japan, you knew you'd be lonely. They were your only family, you had no one except them, his father's death had hit you so hard you could kill yourself but you had to stay strong for langa. Living alone with no one by your side soon became a routine, the routine you had before you met langa, his family, they loved you.

Your father was straight up a drunkard and your mother, let's just say she opened legs for other men more than she opened her arms for you to hug or if she ever did.

You couldn't leave to stay with langa and his family, when your parents fought, resulting with you lying in your room after being hit by them, they needed to let their anger out and who was the best to blame except you? You were the reason they were both like this, they had said, hitting you over and over untill they calmed themselves down.

Your friends were worried for you, not only had langa left but also you were covered in new bruises and injuries almost every other day, barely eating or talking.

Langa called daily at first but soon his calls lied from once a week to once a month before you could comprehend anything that was happening. He would tell you everything about japan, his new friend reki, how he met so many people who skated so amazingly it was enchanting. Maybe the network wasn't so good on his side, that must be the reason he couldn't see your eyes hanging dull, your body looked like nothing but bones and skin, all the bruises, the injuries must be not so visible with a poor network.

He loved you afterall, he'd worry too much either way so it's okay. "Oh God reki is so awesome, you know y/n" and the rest you never heard your ears ringing in pain, as much as you wanted to listen to him, it hurt. The way he ignored all your well being and focused on some strangers he had met just a few months ago. it hurt so much but you couldn't speak it out, so you chose to end the call abruptly.

Sobbing into your knees, you sat on the bed feeling ever so lonely, you were starting to question everything and anything. Why were you even alive at this point, if only you died somehow. Soon it became a routine, crying till you passed out for an hour or so then getting up to go to school.

Your social media had died down to nothing, your life had died down to nothing. You were so tired of everything at this point, a murdered would stab you with a knife and you'd thank him for it. Soon langa's facetimes turned into voicecalls after your abrupt ending of the call.

You'd still receive calls from his mother but you barely picked them anymore, to say she was worried was an understatement. But langa was so busy, so happy with his life she couldn't get to tell him how worried she was for you.

you had started deeming yourself unworthy of living, of being with anyone, the mental and physical abuse from your parents only worsening to the point you couldn't breathe straight. You had switched to self harm as a coping method sooner than you had thought.

Not long before suicidal thoughts picked at your brain all the time, you were starting to fail classes, anyone could see how miserable you were, but no one ever cared enough to talk to you, or so you said, pushing everyone out.

It's been weeks since you last talked to langa, since you last went to school, choosing to burry yourself in your room instead. You parents were happier than ever, there abuse starting to get negligible, they weren't even near you anymore. your mother being pregnant with another child from your father. They were ecstatic, but you were not a part of it, the celebration stayed between them and their friends, tho your parents had started treating you better.

You found yourself falling deeper the more you struggled, your mental health declining to the point you were starting to loose all hopes in yourself. Your hate for others soon turned to hate for yourself and your self harm increased, many times your father would see your lying in you bedroom with bloody wrists, they were all worried for you, they stated, "go to therapy, y/n. We don't want to loose you" your mother sobbed to which you stayed there not moving. She hugged you, cried till you nodded your head. But therapy brought no good, just dragging you further down.

Langa had started getting worried sick and so was his mother, he had ranted about everything to his friends, whatever your friends told him. He wanted to talk to you even if once more, but you were fixed on isolating yourself more and more.

It was not long before you called langa, "I'm sorry, i was busy" you said, your voice was nothing more than emotionless and he begged you to tell him what was wrong but you stayed silent, his worry soon ending up with him screaming for you but you never answered. Not before he heard a loud crack and your parents screaming your name.

Langa stood frozen as he heard your parents cry and scream for you to wake up. He just wanted to pretend you were okay and alive. He was sitting in joe's restaurant, silently sipping the juice he was given as reki and shadow tried to distract him, suddenly his phone rang cutting off the awkward silence, and his mother told him to stay wherever he was and that she was coming to pick him up.

He just wanted to pretend you were okay, but it all came shattering down as his mother banged the door open, her face stained with tears as she fell on her knees sobbing and crying about how you had hanged yourself the day you called him, everyone remained silent, langa only sitting there not moving a muscle, oh God he wished he had stayed with you just a bit longer, called you a bit often, asked you if you were okay, he was selfish so selfish, if only he had noticed everything before maybe just maybe you would be talking to him rn.

Reki and shadow tried to comfort his mother who was now sobbing on the ground while langa just sat there frozen. He never thought a little lack of his concern could drive you to killing yourself. He wanted to blame someone and as much as he hated it he was the only right choice he found. Langa's phone pinged, a message from your mother's number. A page, stained with blood and tears, coming in his sight.

He saw your beautiful handwriting turn into nothing but a mess,

"I'm sorry, i love you i swear i do. But it was so hard living like this langa, there was no one, no one. I was so lonely so lonely, i thought cutting myself would do me any good, but it only drove me into more hunger for blood, and soon i wanted more than the stinging pain against my skin. I wanted to kill myself before i even knew it, you looked so happy when you called me that time. Stay smiling like that for me forever won't you? I'm sorry again langa i love you."

The letter was so abrupt as if you were in a hurry, as if you were dying. And he started sobbing before he knew it, surprising not only himself but everyone around him. His mother only teared up more she saw him crying. Cherry and joe desperately trying to calm the mother and son down.

It was a mess, the mess you left behind for them to handle, the mess you were going through all alone now cut short and stuck to everyone who loved you. Maybe if they all noticed sooner you'd have been here. Maybe just maybe if they told you they loved you sooner you would've been here.

..........

A/n: hey, so uhm idk i just wrote this in a flow. Just know if you, or someone you know is going through Something you can always seek help or go try to help someone, nothing you'd say to a depressed person would ever be meaningless, maybe your kindness saves a soul. Hope you all are doing fine hahhaha. Lot of angst for a day whew.

Anyway, thank you for reading🥺🥰🥰. Reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🥺☺️💜

#sk8 the infinity #sk8 angst #langa x y/n #langa angst #sk8 the infinity x reader #sk8 the infinity ff #sk8 the infinity angst

106 notes · View notes

morganaspendragonss · 3 years ago

Note

Hello 🥰 Whump fic idea :)TK lands in the hospital, again. But this time they're serious, serious injuries, he is under a respirator, he is not breathing on his own, the doctors do not give him much chance of survival, they even advise it would be the best to prepare for the worst and say goodbye, just in case. Owen calls Gwen, she's arriving the same day with Enzo and baby junior. When in the hospital they find out how it happened and that it's mostly Owen's fault (I don't know, for example, he allowed Tk to enter the unstable building to tend to the patient, or whether he made someone else angry and this person unloaded it on TK, or Owen decided to do something reckless and TK wanted to save him or it is The arson situation from 2x12 so Gwyn arrives pregnant, without a baby of course), Gwyn slaps him twice and Enzo punches him right in the nose, breaking it, for risking TK's life. Fortunately, despite the bad prognosis, TK wakes up, but after he took his sweet time being in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 3: the meetings for those in my wake

thanks for the prompt! i really loved writing this one though i need to confess to toning it down a little? idk but with the way it was going it didn't feel right to have enzo break owen's nose. i hope you still like it!

ao3 | 3.3k | major character injury, coma, angst with a happy ending

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news.

TK got in a fight.

TK overdosed.

TK was shot, he’s in the hospital.

Over and over, until the first words out of her mouth whenever Owen’s name flashed up on her screen were, What’s wrong?

Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas. Gwyn suspects it’s partly TK’s influence—he’s been more than enthusiastic in getting to know his baby brother, and Isaac has latched onto TK despite only seeing him in person every few months or so. But they’ve talked as well, she and Owen, and they really are doing better. They’re almost like friends now, which is why Gwyn thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Owen?” Gwyn repeats, louder this time, her heart leaping into her throat. She sits down heavily on the sofa as she waits for Owen’s response; there’s only one thing that could make him cry like that, and tears prick at Gwyn’s eyes as she imagines TK hurt again, or worse.

“Gwyn,” Owen eventually manages to gasp out, voice wrecked. “Gwyn, it’s TK. He’s… You need to get here. You need— It’s not like last time. They don’t know if he’s going to— They don’t think— It’s bad. Really bad.”

Owen breaks off, crying harder, and Gwyn claps a hand to her mouth. She remembers well how devastated he’d been when he called about the gunshot, but this a whole other level. Gwyn’s head spins with the potential implications of that and she finds her breath coming in sharp gasps, but it’s Owen’s next words that knocks it from her altogether.

“They think we should say goodbye.”

The rest of the story comes haltingly—someone got angry after his son couldn’t be saved on a call, he came to the firehouse, he attacked TK—but Gwyn barely hears it. Her boy is in the hospital again and this time…this time he might not be coming home. She can’t understand it; she spoke to him just two days ago, they made plans for he and Carlos to visit for Isaac’s birthday, and now…

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn,” Owen finishes. She feels a flash of that age-old urge to scream at him, but she fights it off, not wanting to wake Isaac.

“I’ll be on the first flight over,” she promises, then ends the call, sliding off the couch to the floor. Her phone falls from limp fingers and harsh sobs tear from her throat, muffled by the press of her fist against her mouth.

Enzo finds her there an hour later and immediately takes her in his arms, not complaining about her tears soaking his shirt. When she tells him what happened, he insists on joining her, and Gwyn allows herself to take that shred of comfort and run with it.

She thinks it’s the only comfort she’s likely to get right now.

The next flight isn’t until morning, so Gwyn spends a sleepless night packing and unpacking their suitcases and making phone calls with the firm and her clients to cancel everything for the foreseeable. She has the brief, terrible thought about whether she should pack funeral attire, which almost sends her into a panic attack as reality hits her all over again.

Enzo saves her from it, gently guiding her to bed, but not before she packs the clothes anyway.

Isaac seems to pick up on her mood when they’re hurrying out of the house, remaining mostly quiet aside from the odd question about where they’re going. He perks up considerably when he finds out they’re heading to Austin, babbling about seeing TK, and Gwyn has to blink hard to keep from crying again. Enzo reaches over to take her hand, and he barely lets go until they’re landing in Austin.

The entrance to the ICU looms before her, and Gwyn feels stuck. There had been a part of her, still, that had hoped to find TK miraculously awake and on the mend, like the last time she had made this trip. She doesn’t want to believe that he’s here, hurt, maybe dying.

But he is, and she’s forcefully reminded of that fact when a kind-looking nurse approaches her hesitantly.

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

Gwyn blinks at her, her brain taking a moment to catch up. “I, um. I’m here to see my son. TK Strand.” She pauses, then shakes her head, cursing herself internally. “Tyler Kennedy Strand.”

The nurse’s entire demeanour changes, a sympathetic smile taking over her face. “This way.” She leads Gwyn through the ICU, then points at a door near the end of the corridor. “Tyler’s room is just there. I promise, we’re doing everything we can for him.”

Gwyn nods absently, her gaze stuck on the door the nurse had indicated. She walks forward slowly, the room seeming to get further and further away until, suddenly, she’s standing on the threshold, and she sees her son.

TK is barely visible, his face half-obscured by the ventilator, half by bruises, and heavy gauze covers his forehead. His arms, resting limply at his sides, are littered with scrapes, and if Gwyn squints, she can just about make out more bandages peeking out from under the hospital gown.

She’d thought that seeing him would make it all real, but she feels separate from everything somehow, only one thought going through her mind on repeat.

This is not my son.

A quiet whisper draws her attention to the figure sitting at TK’s side. Gwyn has to suppress a gasp as she takes in Carlos’s appearance; she hasn’t seen him in person since the wedding last year, and his pale face and red-rimmed eyes cut a stark contrast to that day. He hasn’t noticed her yet, wholly fixated on TK, one hand gently stroking the tufts of hair poking out above the bandage. His lips move and Gwyn knows she should walk away, but instead she finds herself leaning closer, straining to hear Carlos’s words.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he’s saying. “I know you’re fighting and I know you’re going to try as hard as you can to come back to us—believe me, Ty, I am praying every day to see those pretty green eyes of yours open again. But I—I want you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. If it gets too hard, if you need to let go, you can. I already miss you like crazy and I really, really, don’t want to live the rest of my life without you, but the thing I can’t stand more than that is the idea of you suffering.

“Come back if you can, but if someday you find you can’t, remember that I love you and we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Carlos sniffs and ducks his head to place a gentle, lingering kiss on TK’s cheekbone. It’s such a tender, intimate moment, but it quickly shatters when Carlos looks up and spots her, his eyes going wide. “Gwyn. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.”

She waves him off, willing herself to finally step into the room. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have said something, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Carlos nods, giving her a small, sad smile, which Gwyn does her best to return. She pulls up another chair and sinks into it, reaching out to take TK’s hand. She’s startled by the coolness of his skin, and more tears burn in the back of her eyes.

“What did the doctors say?” she asks, clearing her throat and twisting her body towards Carlos, though her eyes never leave TK.

“That it was a miracle he made it through surgery,” Carlos says, sighing wearily. “Eight stab wounds, too much blood loss, damage to his organs, broken ribs—that’s all bad enough, but they’re most worried about his brain. He took at least two blows to the head, and add that to the fact he wasn’t breathing for a good few minutes… They keep saying not to speculate, but we all know the odds here.”

Carlos’s voice breaks and Gwyn reaches out to comfort him, feeling sick to her stomach at the revelation. Why anyone would do this to her boy, she can’t comprehend; she finds herself both wanting answers and feeling unable to take any more.

Owen chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, looking every bit as wrecked as he sounded on the phone. “Gwyn,” he says roughly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Carlos moves as if to give them privacy, but Gwyn shakes her head at him, cutting off his protests before he can even get them out. “You stay with him, Carlos,” she tells him. “We’ll talk in the hall.”

They head to a quiet spot not too far from TK’s room, and Gwyn turns to face Owen, holding her arms. “What the hell happened, Owen? Why is our son lying in there, not even breathing on his own?”

A flicker of a frown crosses Owen’s face. “I told you—”

“No, you didn’t.” Gwyn clenches her jaw, staring him down. “You said he’d been attacked, not that some maniac had used him as their personal punching bag.”

A few more seconds pass before Owen relents, sighing. “There was a call,” he starts, voice heavy with sorrow. “A car accident; dad and his kid were trapped inside. We got the dad out but the son was stuck pretty good. It took a long time to free him and by then it was too late—EMS did their best, but he was gone.

“The dad went ballistic, screaming at all of us, but especially at TK. We don’t really know why, but it was probably a convenience thing; TK had been the one to break the news, he was the closest person—the guy wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He threatened him, tried to hit him—the cops had to arrest him eventually, but you know TK. He refused to press charges, said that the dad was just in shock and that he understood.”

Gwyn smiles a little at that; her son has always been too forgiving for his own good. It’s never come back to hurt him this badly before, though.

Owen pauses, throat bobbing as he seems to work up to the next part. His voice is quiet, and he seems reluctant to meet Gwyn’s eyes. “He showed up at the firehouse a week later—the dad, I mean. He said he wanted to apologise and, I swear, Gwyn, he really did seem genuine. None of us wanted to let him near TK, but ultimately it was TK’s decision. They went round the side of the house to talk; when neither of them came back after twenty minutes, we went looking.

“By that time, the guy was gone, and TK was…” He stops and shakes his head, swallowing hard. “He could barely breathe. Tommy and Nancy did what they could and they got him here quickly, but we have no idea how long he’d been like that before we found him.”

Gwyn’s head snaps up, a white-hot anger flashing through her. “I can’t believe you,” she hisses. “You left our son alone with a man who had already threatened him for twenty minutes, Owen.”

Owen frowns. “I told you, he seemed genuine. And TK—”

Gwyn can’t help it; she slaps him. “Don’t you dare,” she grounds out, crowding into Owen’s space. “Don’t you dare act like this was his fault.”

“I wasn’t—”

Her arm moves on instinct, but before she can connect again, a hand closes around her wrist. Gwyn turns to find Enzo staring at her, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Gwyn, what’s going on?”

She shakes her head and takes a step back from Owen, freeing herself from Enzo’s grasp. “What’s going on,” she responds tightly, “is that he is part of the reason why my son is half-dead in there.”

Enzo gapes between them. “What?”

She ignores the question, needing to focus on anything else to keep her anger from overwhelming her. “What are you doing here anyway? Where’s Isaac?”

“He’s with Grace and Judd, they offered to babysit so I could come here. What—”

“Hang on,” Owen interrupts. “What is he doing here? I figured he’d stay in New York with the kid.”

“Isaac is TK’s brother, Owen,” Gwyn says, turning on him again. “And Enzo has just as much right to be here as any of us; he was more of a father to TK than you were sometimes.”

Owen’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Him? You’re joking, right?”

Gwyn isn’t sure what happens next, who starts it, but soon they’re all yelling, insults and accusations flying around the ward. There’s a furious nurse heading their way, but before she can say anything, another voice cuts through the argument, quiet and trembling but still somehow powerful.

“Get out,” Carlos says. “All of you.”

They all turn to him, Gwyn’s lips parting in shock. Owen takes a step towards him, holding his hands out in a gesture that’s probably meant to be pacifying.

“Carlos—”

“I mean it, Owen,” he snaps, harsher than Gwyn has ever heard him before. “You all screaming at each other is the last thing any of us needs, least of all TK. The only person to blame in all this is the guy who attacked him, and he’s already in custody; he’ll get what’s coming to him. If TK—” Carlos breaks off, clenching his jaw and staring down at the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, before breathing out shakily and looking back up at them. “If anything changes, I’ll call you, I promise. But you can’t be here right now. Go, please.”

Carlos doesn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and going back into TK’s room, reassuming his position next to the bed. Gwyn watches him for a second, nodding when Enzo pointedly takes her elbow.

“He’s right,” she says, directed at Owen. “We should go.”

Owen glares, gearing up to argue again, but he must think better of it as he suddenly slumps, all the energy draining out of him. “Right,” he mutters. “Right.”

They file slowly out of the ICU, closely watched by the hard eyes of the nurse from before. Gwyn spares one last look before forcing herself forwards; if getting here was hard, walking away is a thousand times worse.

Three weeks pass with no change and, crucially, no improvement. Gwyn spends more time with Carlos than she ever has before, and she hates that it’s her son being comatose that has brought the two of them closer. A tentative peace exists between her and Owen and she knows—truly, she knows—that the attack wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing that could have stopped it.

But she can’t help but be angry that, once again, her son was seriously hurt and she wasn’t around.

She takes Isaac to see TK once, when the worst of the bruises have faded a little. She worries that he’ll be scared, and he does seem to hesitate when they reach the room; in truth, Gwyn hadn’t wanted to bring him at all, but he’d kept asking about TK and she’d found herself helpless to do anything but acquiesce.

They still haven’t told him what’s going on. No-one knows how to. All Isaac knows is that TK is a little hurt and he needs rest, and even that knowledge seems to upset him.

Once he gets used to the sight, Isaac stretches his hands out to the bed. “TK,” he says simply, looking pleadingly up at Gwyn.

She hugs him close, trying to smile for him. “TK’s asleep, sweetie,” she explains. “He needs rest.”

“When wake up?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

Three weeks pass, and the doctors start talking about options and next steps. It’s obvious what that’s code for—they want to pull the plug. They’re told to take all the time they need to discuss it but, ultimately, the decision will be Carlos’s, as TK’s husband and next of kin.

Gwyn knows what choice he’s going to make; it’s the same one she, or anyone else in his position, would make.

That doesn’t make it any easier to bear, for any of them.

Gwyn finds him in the hallway, bent over with his head in his hands. She goes over and quietly sits in the chair next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back.

There’s a long silence before Carlos sniffs and turns to her, his face the picture of devastation. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Gwyn,” he whispers, voice cracking. “How am I supposed to just give up on him like that?”

She shakes her head. “You’re not giving up on him, Carlos. You’re letting him go.”

“I don’t know how to do that either.”

“None of us do.”

Silence again, but this time, it’s Gwyn that breaks it first. “Listen, Carlos, I know this is hard. God knows I wish none of us were even here. But we are, and we have to do what’s best for everyone, including TK.”

“I know that,” Carlos admits. “I just don’t want to lose him.” He closes his eyes and leans into Gwyn, allowing her to wrap him in a hug. “I wish we had more time.”

Gwyn’s heart breaks all over again, and she squeezes his shaking shoulders. “We’ve got time,” she says, though she knows that’s not what he meant. “As much as you need.”

The sob she’s answered with tells her there’s not enough time in the world for Carlos to say goodbye to TK.

The call comes in the middle of the night. Dread pools in Gwyn’s gut as she accepts it and lifts the phone to her ear, her hands trembling.

“Owen?”

“Gwyn. TK, he—he woke up. It was only for a few seconds, but he woke up, Gwyn. The doctors said it was a miracle; they think he might actually recover.”

Gwyn gasps, a sob crawling up her throat as the news sinks in. It’s everything she’s been praying for ever since that first call, and all she can think about now is getting to TK.

“I’ll be at the hospital in fifteen,” she says. She ends the calls and raises her hands to her face, wiping away the tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

Maybe this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

TK is off getting tests when Gwyn arrives, but she’s finally allowed back in the room an hour later, Carlos and Owen on her heels. The ventilator has been removed, replaced by a nasal cannula, and his eyes are open—barely to slits, but Gwyn doesn’t care. TK is awake and alive, and that’s all that matters.

As soon as she’s in the chair by the bed, she reaches out for him, her touch feather-light as she strokes his cheek. “My brave boy,” she whispers wetly. “My brave, brave boy.”

TK’s head rolls on the pillow so he’s facing her and he mumbles something that’s probably meant to be a greeting, but the words jumble together and come out as gibberish.

Gwyn thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

They’ve all been briefed about the risks of brain damage and all the potential lasting consequences which could impact the rest of TK’s life. But right now, as she holds TK’s hand with Carlos on his other side and Owen at her back, Gwyn chooses to take solace in the constant rise and fall of TK’s chest and the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm.

There’ll be enough time for worry later; for now, her son is alive, and Gwyn can’t think of anything else that's more important.

105 notes · View notes

heckolve · 2 years ago

Note

hiii omg its been so long since ive sent an ask... ive loved seeing ur ocs and their universe evolve over time and i was wondering if u have any tips on developing stories and characters? i have this story idea in my head and i have the gist of it planned out but like. idk i need MORE u know

aww hi leo <3 hmm honestly my process is not super structured or straightforward lol. ive been working on them for years and years so its not streamlined at all... as far as working from scratch i'm not really sure since i havent made a New story in a longggg time. i'll put the rest under the cut since it got long <3

my best piece of advice might not be that helpful but what has been the most successful for me the past few years is to just let the story develop naturally.... it definitely helps once you've sort of established the general setting & characters & dynamics as well as genre/themes/what main points you want to hit in the story so that you have a defined area to play around in but ive found that after i've set all that up there is always a Next Logical Thought that comes along to develop the story.

with all good things, i wiped that story's slate almost completely clean a few years ago to start fresh and fix it and pretty much my only direction was "i want arrakis to have a more active role in the story" and the rest is history. i immediately was able to find a bunch of loose plot points that i could tie to her and i more closely examined and revised each character's relationship with her and played around with how that impacts them in the story both in their character development and actions. i'm not sure if this is the case with your story yet but for agt i also had a Ton of little things i wanted to happen in the story that needed explaining, like blaire's scars, the breakup, arrakis dying, etc etc. the whole Next Logical Thought process really came in for those points especially where literally all i asked is Why Did It Happen and then using the setting/story points/characters i already had established i was able to fill in those blanks pretty naturally.

why did arrakis die? someone killed her. why did someone kill her? because she knew something she shouldn't have. what did she know? did anyone else know? would anyone else even be able to know? how did knowing effect them? etc etc etc until i not only had one fully fleshed out plot point but suddenly had a way to connect multiple other plot points. anselm's development was the same way. i'd been playing around with a ton of ideas for years and years and had never found anything that worked Just Right and then literally in like the last few months of 2020 i had this one passing thought that ended up being THEE piece the story was missing and set the entire tone and structure of the narrative going forward. i'd definitely played with a Ton of ideas trying to fix the story but it was really just a matter of waiting for my brain to sit on it long enough to be "well obviously this happens" and well obviously yeah that was the right version of the story to tell 🤷‍♀️ its definitely helpful to actively work at a story to figure out exactly what you Want from it and narrow down the directions to go in but all i can really say is that eventually i always just get to a place where a story makes sense to me and theres always a next logical thought to go off of.

as far as character development goes its sort of the same process for me? but its a lot of thinking about like. what would happen if these two characters interacted. how do their worldviews and experiences influence how they interact with other people. what can they offer in a certain dynamic that other characters cant. and then especially in agt i'll sometimes just make a character to fix or fill a certain dynamic that seems lacking, like inez in the eliseyev family. like blaire and belladonna wouldnt necessarily be super close save for the fact that they have traumatic experiences revolving around the same subject that none of the other characters have. it makes them close but not in the same way that friends with similar dispositions and hobbies are; they have the same burden. ave is close with abel in a way he'd never be with most anyone else because abel's empathetic powers don't allow him to repress or hide his true emotions. it also helps to just think about silly things too-- not always huge life changing relationships and events LOL. delphi gets cat hair everywhere. belladonna can play peekaboo with the twins using her wings. memphis steals blaire's clothes 'cause his parents know to keep their closets on lockdown. thinking about how specific character attributes and dynamics makes them act in casual settings and circumstances just always makes them seem more fleshed out... but also i always try to explore dynamics that i may not have considered at first. like in the past arrakis' perception of the dovokov family didn't mean anything and so i never thought to consider it but now theres just SOOO much untapped potential to work with there. i also just tend to decide things at random and without precedent for my character's if it feel's Right 😭 like bell being a mechanic or jude an EMT. or that memphis & inez like winx club. or ila having an ex wife. i think any little specifics details and trivia regardless of how much or little they effect the story also help make characters feel more... human for lack of a better word.

i guess the last thing i'd say is to talk about it with someone else if you're comfortable with that and get the chance. or honestly it doesnt even have to be another person but just to have some way to verbalize or write down what you're thinking about. i don't usually have anyone to talk about my stories with but i can't tell you how helpful its been just Pretending that i do even... i do it all day every day where i'm like. "well what if someone wanted to know about X? what would be the answer?" and sometimes its big picture stuff and other times its just random character trivia but for some reason facilitating development that way helps me think about things i may not have thought about before or work through a tricky plot/character point 🤔

i hope any of that was helpful... like i said my process isn't exactly structured lol. and ive only just recently started moving past set up & big picture narrative development towards the specific start to finish story events which definitely takes a little more active development work over the Next Logical Thought process LOL. a lot of it still is just asking the question and figuring out which answer makes the most sense within the circumstances i've established though 🤷‍♀️

#ask #parasocialz #agt #tct

2 notes · View notes

angelanimedesaray · 4 years ago

Text

Wings in the Dark Chapter 7: Subversion

AN: I’m gonna admit, I was half asleep writing the first half of this cause the fatigue hit me HARD once I got home.

Also, I forgot to put this up a few chapters ago, but this story IS on AO3. The link is on the AOT Vampire Masterlist, but also right HERE.

I felt like I was missing something, but no matter how many times I looked at it, I couldn’t think of what it was...If it occurs to me, I’ll probably just find a way to work it into the next chapter, lol

Also if you want a good soundtrack for this series, honestly, all you gotta do is listen to the Forgotten Odes album by Eternal Eclipse, I always pull it up when I’m writing these XD

Characters: Levi, Fem!Vampire!Reader, Erwin

Pairing: (Eventual) Levi x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Warnings: Language, Blood, Death, Dead Bodies, ummm...idk, Vampire Legends? Is that a Warning?

Word Count: 5391

<----Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter---->

*Levi’s POV*

"I've been trying to catch her sneaking out for weeks, now, Erwin, but it's like she knows when I'm awake and watching for her. I can never catch her when she's leaving, it's always when she comes back."

Levi paced slightly in front of Erwin’s desk out of agitation as he stressed why, after all this time, he still hadn't managed to follow her into the Underground and see what she was doing.

"Do you at least know when she usually sneaks out? The time, or the days?" Erwin asked calmly.

"It's always when everyone's asleep...and it is fairly regular. Every week, I think, though the exact day varies."

"If you can't follow her, then you'll need to get ahead of her. Get down there before her. You know the window of time when she'll be down there, and you know the Underground."

"But I have no idea what she's doing down there. It could be anything--and the Underground isn't a small place where I can wander around and /hope/ I run into her."

"Then narrow down your search based off your theories. We considered she might have family down there, so you would be looking at residences, or asking around about a woman of her description. And your theory of the worst she could be up to--"

"Murder or treason. I know the places you'd go for that--more so than normal, anyway," Levi murmured, mind already conjuring the worst areas in the underground, the places where the Underground's worst elements like to stalk the streets, the areas of the highest risk, the worst gangs, the shadiest deals.

The residence search could take months--no one was going to want to talk to a soldier, a surfacer, even someone who had once been a part of the Underground. Not to mention, they had no idea what Y/N Frazier looked like, or what name she was going under while she was hiding in the Underground--if she was, in fact, hiding in the Underground.

Besides, shouldn't he rule out the worst, first?

"I know where to start," Levi said decisively. "It's still going to take some time, though, because she's still aware I'm watching her, and she's good at shaking tales and evasion. Not to mention part of it is going to be based on luck--that I manage to go to the right place at the right time without knowing where she'll be."

"You're good at what you do, Levi. You'll find a way."

So began the unpleasant ritual of Levi going down into the Underground every night of every other week, all in the name of hopefully, eventually, managing to find L/N. All it would take was one glimpse, one time seeing her, and he could follow her, learning from the mistakes of last time to make sure that he didn’t lose her this time.

And he could finally find out what was happening below ground--what had been happening for years since she’d suddenly appeared on the surface.

While Levi had made a name for himself Underground, enough so that it became general knowledge not to test him, he hadn't gone around looking for the kind of trouble that would have brought him to the places he found himself in, now.�� He’d always been aware of these dark holes in the Underground, and on a few unpleasant occasions had to make a trip to one of them. The worst elements of the Underground were found in these holes--she shadiest deals, the scum of the earth, the darkest corners with the most blood and carnage seeped into and tainting the earth around them.

Levi’s every step in these places was careful and quiet, his guard always up, his hood always drawn to hide his face.

Even with the name he'd made down here, he was cautious to use it as a warning sign to keep danger at bay. Not only did he want to avoid sticking out and alerting L/N to his presence if she was down here, but there were always going to be the idiots who wanted to challenge someone who'd made a notorious name for themselves like he had. There might be more than normal who wanted to test him if they knew who he was, people who thought that he was a prime target because his name still stood, but his time above ground might have made him soft.

A terrible, foolish notion, really, since his time above ground and part of the Scouts had only made him more dangerous.

He'd been coming down here regularly since his talk with Erwin, scouting the area and looking for any signs of L/N, whatever they may be. Not many people down here were the talking type, and those who were couldn't give him anything about any surfacer woman prowling the streets. The only thing they could tell him was to not wander these more dangerous parts of the Underground alone because people who did tended to turn up dead or go missing.

That wasn't news to him. He was already well aware of the dangers of these parts of the Underground that had spawned chilling legends even for the people who saw the darkness of the Underground daily. He knew what he was doing was dangerous, which made L/N's presence here all the more questionable if he did manage to see her.

Levi glared fiercely at a man who'd been giving him the target sizing look after glimpsed his clean surfacer clothes. The man slunk back into the shadows and Levi's skin prickled, his senses on high alert for any kind of ambush someone might be tempted to spring on the man leaning against the wall at a four way intersection. He was keeping his head down to keep his face well shielded, but his eyes were constantly flickering around to take in his surroundings, to watch every figure that passed or came down one of the alleys, tense and ready for a fight every time someone came close to him.

This search was slow work, but with no hint to L/N’s motivations for being down here besides the scent of blood on her cloak, it was the best option he had.

A familiar, dark robed figure flashed by the opposite end of the alley on his right, and Levi straightened, disbelief flashing through him. Surely that hadn’t been…

Before he lost her in his disbelief, Levi moved quickly through the alley to at least get her within his sights, being mindful not to get too close, even though he needed to at least be able to confirm that it was her.

Sticking to the shadows, Levi peered around the corner of the alley, just enough so he could see the cloaked figure and watch them as they continued down the path at a fairly leisurely pace, as if they were strolling along the lakeside instead of through one of the most dangerous parts of the Underground.

He was fairly certain that was her cloak. It was the right color, and a quick glance down revealed that yes, it was long enough to drag along the ground like hers did, but at the moment it was gathered and tucked into the waist to keep it from dragging through the filth, keeping it just above the ankles instead.

And those boots were dark brown, leather, suspiciously similar to the Scout’s uniform--even though he couldn’t see the rest from this angle, he was willing to bet they went up to the knee. The height was right, the posture seemed militaristic--it was a hard thing to shake, especially when still in active duty and so soon after graduating from the cadets, to boot. Levi held his breath, watching intently and hoping for something a bit more defining that could give him one more bit of evidence to convince him it was her, besides this gut feeling of his.

She took a turn, and while she kept her head down, hood hiding her face, he saw a flash of hair, and glimpsed the civilian clothes underneath--

Civilian clothes he knew were hers because of the day he’d gone through her stuff and saw what she had. She didn’t have much, so it was easy to tell this was one of the four pairs she owned.

Not wanting to lose her like he had that first night, Levi hurried forward, keeping his steps as quiet as possible. He had to give her more space then he was used to giving someone that he tailed--he hadn’t forgotten how during the expedition, she seemed to have immensely attuned senses, with how quickly and easily she could pick up on what no one else could see. He still didn’t want to lose her because he fell too far behind, but he had to be careful--something kept tipping her off to his presence, and while he didn’t know what, he had to control everything he could and make it harder for her to notice his presence. Distance was his friend, right now.

It was hard, trying to trail someone while having to put so much distance between them that she frequently turned out of sight, but he kept it up, heart pounding in anticipation as his mental map of the area tried to come up with where she was heading. Right now, it just felt like she was aimlessly wandering, like there was no real direction to where she was going. What the hell was she doing?

After several minutes of following her around like this, Levi started to grow impatient, wondering if she was aware he was following her and was just walking random places until he got bored and left. If anything, it was more likely to make him confront her.

Except he needed to see what she was really doing down here, and if she was aware he was following her, that wasn’t going to happen.

Another shadowy figure entered their line, in front of Levi but behind L/N. It was a man, staying far enough back that he clearly wasn’t walking with her--another tail. Someone with more sinister intentions, too, Levi would guess, by the way he seemed to be stalking her. With how far back Levi was, he hadn’t been noticed by this new party, but he was close enough that Levi was certain L/N had noticed them.

Except...she wasn’t trying to shake them. She should have been able to do it with ease after she had lost Levi so easily that first night, but she didn’t do anything differently. Her pace remained the same, unhurried and with no real direction, even as the intruder got gradually closer.

What the hell?

Was he wrong? Was it someone she knew that she was meeting up with? No, that looked like something else, Levi knew exactly what this was, he’d seen it enough times to recognize when someone was about to get jumped.

On the other hand...this was perfect for him. Horrible as the initial thought might have been, if he tailed her tail, it put plenty of distance between himself and L/N, and as long as her tail didn’t lose her, even with her completely out of sight he wouldn’t lose track of her. And if something went wrong, well, he was right here.

Levi shifted his cloak aside at the waist, turning slightly and waiting a few moments before he fired the cables into the nearest building, using it to get onto the roofs and nothing more. The rest could be on foot, no more use of the gear. ODM had a very distinct sound any soldier who had been around them as long as L/N had would recognize instantly, so he didn’t dare use it any more times until he’d found what he was looking for. He didn’t know how keen those remarkable senses of hers were, if it was her hearing or her sight or hell, even her nose like Miche, that had allowed her to spot those Titans.�� Because he didn’t know how, he couldn’t risk it.

Now with the advantage of a higher vantage point, Levi followed L/N’s tail from quite a distance, able to see him further and more comfortably from so high up, his footsteps still light and silent even though he was alone on these rooftops.

Being up here reminded him of several things he hadn’t fully realized when he’d lived down here, or that he’d learned to ignore or had forgotten in his time above ground. How there was no wind down here, which was disconcerting after so long above ground with fresh air and cool breezes. How dark it really was, even with the orange glow of firelight from homes, impacting his visibility and making it hard to pick out details from a distance. And the stench--he’d been blocking it out, something he’d trained himself to do down here when he wasn’t in his own space that he could keep clean, but now that he was higher up and not in the thick of the shit, the air wasn’t quite as thick with it.

Slightly. Just barely.

The man he was following sped up and took a sudden turn into a narrow alley, causing Levi to speed up his step as well, keeping an eye on the opposite end of the alley in case he exited the alley before Levi could reach it. Crouched low so that he wouldn’t be spotted if someone happened to look up, Levi reached the edge of the building before the alley, his hand placed lightly on the dirt-covered edge as he peered over with care, trying to lean far enough he could see but where he couldn’t be seen, or at least would hardly be seen. L/N’s tail hadn’t left the alley, so they should be--

Before the alley became visible, Levi realized there were no sounds coming from the alley--no sounds of a fight, no drip of blood, no talking, nothing. If her tail had caught up to her, there should have been /something/ coming from the alley below.

A few seconds more, and he had visual confirmation that the alley was empty, even though he hadn’t seen anyone leave it from either end.

Levi kept himself calm, not allowing himself to even worry about losing sight of them--he didn’t have the time for that. Clearly he’d been far enough behind that he’d missed something that had happened. Maybe they had cut through the building opposite the one he was standing on. There were no sounds coming from there, either--it was silent as the grave in this part of the city, unsettlingly enough. But it let him know they weren’t simply hiding in one of the buildings beneath him.

He knew this area--he knew the Underground, had grown up here, walked these streets or at least mapped out in his mind the best and worst places for all kinds of situations. He could figure out what had happened. Whether she got the drop on her tail or her tail had successfully jumped her, if they weren’t here they would have gone somewhere discreet, somewhere private that was also nearby. Not a residence, and anything that was dilapidated beyond even entry wouldn’t work. What was the best spot for that criteria that was also nearby, close enough it could be quickly ducked into without anyone noticing?

Levi jumped over the edge of the building and dropped back down into the mud, knees bent to absorb the impact before he quickly shifted, navigating the streets quickly and with a purpose as he closed in on the building that came to mind. He was still careful to be quiet and stealthy lest he spook L/N and lose his chance, but he was now running out of time--the longer they were out of sight, the greater the chance he would fail to see what was happening. And he’d come so close, he couldn’t let the opportunity slip past him again.

Her being in trouble didn’t even cross his mind--he knew she could have shaken that tail if she wanted to, and she had beaten him in a sparring match. Even if that tail jumped her, he doubted she would be the one in trouble.

*Reader’s POV*

The one thing you hated the most about coming to the Underground to hunt was the smell. With how sensitive your senses were, it was absolutely horrid for you. It had taken all of your focus and much of your time when you’d first come down here to learn how to block that foul smell out, though usually it involved handicapping your sense of smell altogether--except for with blood. Blood always pierced through any mental block you’d constructed for yourself.

Still, you were down one sense when you came down here to hunt, refusing to breathe through your nose so you wouldn’t become nauseous, sickened by the stench in the air.

The only time that changed down here was when you fed--when the scent of blood filled your every breath with your teeth latched into your most recent kill, warm at first but growing gradually colder as you drained the life from them, a hand over their mouth to muffle any sound or screams until they could make them no more.

Of course you had known about the shady individual tailing you--you had wandered aimlessly in one of the worst parts of the Underground specifically so you could draw someone out, could lure in one of the many victimizers that lurked in these dark corners and turn the tables on them, making their chosen path of victimizing and terror a fatal one. As soon as he entered the dark, isolated alley that you had turned into, you had grabbed him and dashed away with that inhuman speed of yours, pulling him into the nearest abandoned, unowned building where you immediately sank your teeth into him to satiate the hunger that had started to claw at you once again.

Hidden in the darkest corner of the abandoned building, the man had stopped moving beneath you, body turning cold, though from experience you knew he still had more blood to give. You were going to take it all, so it would last you just a little while longer before you had to delve back into the Underground’s cesspool for a fresh kill to satiate the hunger again after it returned.

By now, this was normal for you. You had been doing it for decades, and had long worked out your feelings over the moral implications of it all. This was just your way of life, how you survived. And it would continue to be for years and years to come.

One thing about scents down here--there was no wind to carry them away or towards you. So when you picked up on someone’s scent, it usually meant they were close...very close. Especially since you went out of your way to block scents down here unless you were in the middle of a feed, like right now.

As such, you stiffened when you caught the beginning traces of a familiar scent, one that was usually carried towards you on a breeze and let you know you were being watched. Tea leaves, cleanliness or cleaning products, hints of mint that might have just been a figment of your own imagination because it was something you associated with a clean smell.

Levi. And if you were catching his scent strongly enough for it to pierce through the blood you were feeding off, then he was dangerously close.

Immediately, you tried to gulp down every last drop you could, wanting to still finish so you wouldn’t have to come back down here so soon, even though your instincts were yelling at you to get out of here before he found you. As a result of your suddenly rushed attempts to finish your meal, you made a bit more of a mess than you usually did. Blood smeared across your face and dribbled down onto your shirt, some unfortunately falling to the ground below as your teeth tore into the man’s neck in an attempt to get this last bit to gush out.

You could hear him, he was just outside the building, you couldn’t wait any longer, you’d already waited too long.

How much had he seen? How long had he been onto you? How had he found you?

You could worry about that when you were safely back at the Scout’s headquarters and in the process of cleaning up any evidence you’d ever been to the Underground, right now, you had to leave.

Now you didn’t even have time to try and hide the body.

Teeth unlatching from the man’s neck, hood pulled low over your head to hide all of your features, you finally bolted, heading for the opposite side as you heard the door open, worried that you still had been too late, that he might have seen your hasty exit, or at least a flash of your cloak disappearing around the corner of the open doorway.

There was no chance to take it back now. The best you could do was damage control and dig in your heels. He might have seen your cloak, maybe, but as far as you knew, he had no way of knowing it was you. No definitive way, anyway. He hadn’t seen your face, hadn’t seen any defining features. As far as you were aware, he’d only seen your cloak. You still had a chance. Especially if you cleaned your clothes fast enough and thoroughly enough there wasn’t a trace of blood or the Underground on them.

Heart pounding as you attempted to keep yourself calm so you could act rationally and not tip your hand and give yourself away by panicking, you raced back to the surface to start disposing of evidence in the safety of your quarters.

*Levi’s POV*

Levi tried to be quick when he opened the door, intending to catch L/N in the middle of whatever was happening in here and then act accordingly. As far as he was aware, he’d acted fast enough and quietly enough he should have gotten the drop on her, even with that apparent sixth sense of hers that had allowed her to avoid him thus far. The door swung open, and he saw a blur of motion--a blur he tried to write off as simply his eyes still adjusting to the scene at first--and the flash of a dark cloak disappearing around the corner.

Levi’s eyes widened at the realization that blur or at least the cloak was L/N fleeing from the scene, a ‘Tch!’ escaping him as he dashed across the abandoned building to try and make it out the other side before she could disappear again, hand on the edge of the doorway as he slid out into the alley on the other side.

Nothing.

He rushed to the mouth, hoping that maybe she had just turned out of sight, that he wasn’t about to lose her again like he had the first time he’d followed her.

Again, nothing. Not even the sound of retreating footsteps. She was just...gone, like the first time.

“Shit!”

Swearing loudly to himself, with the sound surprisingly disconcerting when it was thrown out into the silent streets, Levi turned back to the abandoned building, the only thing he had now that L/N had fled.

She had fled, which meant that this time she might have left something behind for him to find in her haste to leave. People got sloppy when they were in a rush, and he was going to take full advantage of it.

Giving one last frustrated look down the deserted street, Levi doubled back to the abandoned building she had been inside, standing in the middle of the room as his eyes did a quick roam over his surroundings, looking for anything out of place, anything out of the ordinary.

Over in a dark corner, there was a mass, some kind of shape that looked distorted and unlike any kind of furniture or item found in an abandoned building like this. It wasn't moving, but Levi still approached with caution, the dark shape slowly taking form as Levi approached, gradually becoming clearer as Levi silently came closer.

It was a body. The tail he'd been following, from the looks of it, though Levi still didn't have a cause of death. The body was distorted and lying unnaturally, head bent at an odd angle--not broken, just left in an odd position--and it was lying face down, as if it had been dropped in a rush.

He had interrupted something. The question now was what had he interrupted. His gaze had already darkened with the realization she'd left a body behind, but whether this had been intentional or self-defense remained to be seen. The motive, her intentions, were largely going to affect how he reacted.

Levi turned the body over with his foot and froze, staring at the man’s throat. It was ripped out, like an animal had sunk its teeth all the way in but had been startled into tearing away before it was ready, bringing half the man’s throat with it. Yet, despite the gruesome sight, there were only a few drops of blood on the ground beneath the body, a couple light smears around the wound itself. When Levi crouched down to touch the body, it was ice cold against his fingers. Algor mortis shouldn’t have even started yet, the man had hardly been dead for a few moments, but there was next to no blood despite his manner of death, the body lacked all warmth--the warmth shouldn’t have drained from him for at least a half hour.

There should have been blood all over this place--should have still been some blood in him draining to the parts of his body lying on the ground. And yet…

A memory was making its way unbidden to the front of his mind, whispering sinister, impossible, dark thoughts into his mind as Levi stared at the dead man's throat. A memory of a legend Kenny once tried to scare him with, one he had dismissed as nonsense and scoffed at the impossible tale.

A tale about an immortal creature that plagued the Underground as long as there had been an Underground, choosing the miserable place because of its darkness and isolation from the sun, and its plethora of people that no one would even care if someone went missing every now and then. An undead demon with glowing red eyes, the last thing a man saw before it feasted on his blood and drained the life out of him, leaving his empty body lying in the street with his throat ripped open.

Kenny had told it to him once to scare him, to keep him from getting too cocky and thinking he was untouchable. And Levi had called him out on it, called it the bullshit he'd been so sure that it was. There was no such thing as demons or bloodsucking monsters. There were real monsters in the world, but not of this dark, fantastical variety.

And Kenny had taught him the lesson that had led him here. And made him a bit more wary of the darker corners of the world.

"Maybe not demons...or maybe there are. There's Titans above ground, right? Why wouldn't we have our own brand of monster down here?"

Kenny scratched his chin. "Whether you believe in the demon part or not, there's always a little truth to every legend. At the least, there's probably a killer somewhere down here with a signature like that who caused the stories."

Levi looked dubiously at Kenny. "Yeah? How do I know they're not just legends about your murders."

"Because, Runt. I slit throats, I don't rip 'em out."

Levi felt his blood run cold, chilling him to the core.

What he’d witnessed...she had not been a target, she had never been someone’s prey; she had been the hunter luring in an unsuspecting victim.

How long had she been doing this? A couple years at least, going off how long she'd been sneaking out to the Underground, but it probably went on before that, before she joined the military, before she even showed up on the surface. When he'd caught the smell of blood on her cloak he hadn't expected this to be the source.

“I...conduct blood rituals to achieve perfection.”

That deadpan delivery at the table in the mess hall--had she been secretly mocking them? Or, more accurately, secretly mocking him, the one trying to figure out what she was hiding?

Was she...even human?

It was insane, but so was the thought of the empty grave before he’d opened that coffin. It was madness, but it fit, it made things that had seemed alien suddenly belong in this greater picture. Where else would all this blood have gone, especially with how quickly she had to leave because of his interruption? How else would she have these senses that told her when Levi was near--that allowed her to know when she was being followed when it should have been impossible, that allowed her to see him in detail in the shadows from a distance yet still draw a perfect portrait, and had made her aware of the Titans before anyone else? That strength and ease in all of her physical requirements as a soldier had to have come from somewhere, like Levi’s, but this hadn’t been what he was thinking.

And then there was the undead thing, the immortal thing, from the story he’d heard as a child.

No, no that was pushing it too far. That she might not be human was a hard enough pill to swallow, even when he had his own superhuman abilities and lived in a world of Titans. He was not a superstitious person, and this was a hard thought to even entertain, let alone to take seriously. Even when he was staring at a corpse that strongly suggested the truth of the tale.

Even if it would explain how Y/N Frazier crawled out of her grave when it was supposed to be humanly impossible. Even though it smoothed away the question of how Y/N Frazier and Y/N L/N were connected by suggesting they were the same person.

No matter what the full truth was, he was at a point where he had to confront her either way, for everyone’s safety. He might be the only one who could match her, physically, and even then he’d have to be extra careful about his approach, because she could still overpower him if he wasn’t careful. At the very least, she was a murderer, a serial killer who hadn’t stopped even after joining the Scouts and was still regularly killing, and somewhere he used to live, no less. He had hated living down here, but part of him still took that personally.

At the worst, though, she was a monster of shadowy legend. One that preyed on humankind, like the Titans. A true enemy of mankind that it seemed almost no one was aware of. Now he knew, and he had to do something about it.

But first, the confrontation. And he better make sure he had her cornered and that he was ready for a fight. It was likely she would lash out, and he needed to be prepared for a fight for survival. He needed to be ready to handle the situation as soon as he had the truth, because whether she was a murderer or monster only affected how the fight would go and the severity of the stakes. If she was a legitimate monster as well as a murderer did not affect the fact that a fight was inevitable--it just decided how deadly it would actually be.

And he needed a contingency in case the worst happened, so the truth wouldn’t die with him.

The Scouts needed to know what lurked within their ranks. Erwin needed to know. It was all a front--something deadly was masquerading as one of them, and it needed to be stopped before it could do irreversible damage.

Next Chapter---->

Levi Tags: @clary-quinn @humanitys-hottestsoldier@whalerus @sunny-flo @thirstyforsometea

Wings in the Dark Tags: @regalillegal @animeluver23 @theshylittleelfgirl @queenthorin1 @dilucs-thighs @sociallyanxiousmouse

100 notes · View notes

imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 4 years ago

Text

The Neighbor

A/N: Gif isn't mine. If you're the creator, please let me know so I can give you the credits.

Pairing: John Wick X Reader

Word count: 2.2K

Requested by: @massive-freaking-fox

{“My new neighbor is simultaneously the scariest and nicest people I’ve met.” But with John Wick and reader? Like the reader is his new neighbor and kinda a slow burn after she gets over being intimidated by him?? Idk I like all things fluffy and that sounds like a good one}

{John Wick Masterlist}

The wind messes with your hair, making a shiver roll down your spine. Pulling your feet up on the small, wooden table you have on the front garden of your house, you can't help but stare at the bigger, larger house beside your own. But it's not the house itself that gets your undivided attention. It's the owner. The man with the weirdest routine you ever knew. You've seen him, messy hair, playing with his dog, but also in an impeccable dark suit, hair slid back. When you see him like that, he's gone for a while. Days, weeks.

The look in his eyes used to scare you. You had the feeling that his stare alone was enough to make people shake like a leaf, surrender everything they own.

You remember the first time you laid eyes on him. Taylor, the only friend you had made back then, since you moved here, asked for your company on a morning walk. She lives down the street, so you joined her when she passed by your place. A few steps and something caught your eye. You saw him moving inside, through the windowpane, and for some reason, you stopped, shamelessly staring. He was facing away, his strong, muscular back everything you could see.

“(Y/N),” Taylor called you. “Oh.” She mumbled once she noticed what you were looking at. “That's Mr. Wick. I don't know the first name. He's not very social.”

The man turned around and you involuntary held your breath. The way his dark hair fell on his face, hiding his eyes made you give a step back.

“Hey,” Taylor called you once more, snapping a finger in front of your face. “I know he's hot, but I can't believe you're already daydreaming.”

“What?” You finally looked away, eyes now focusing on your friend. The feeling you had was far from what Taylor suggested, but it was still unnamed. “I wasn't daydreaming. Let's get moving.” When you started walking again, you couldn't help but give one last look. And you felt like hit by a car when you got him already staring, straight at you.

The memory makes you shiver more than the wind, which gets colder every passing minute. The sun is setting, and soon it'll be dark. But you're still looking at the house, which it's empty. Mr. Wick. John Wick, left more or less a week ago, dressed to impress as usual. Your mind floats back to the day he told you his first name, the day when he didn't make any effort to hide he was interested in you.

The accidental meeting happened a few weeks after the first time you saw him, after a handful of times that you bumped into each other on the sidewalk. He always smiled kindly and greeted you with a good morning or a good evening. But on that particular night, after you left Taylor's house and started making the way back home, a storm broke loose and the sky fell on you. You had been feeling ill all day, but chose not to give much thought about it. But then, under the cold, heavy rain, you had to focus on keeping your legs working. Bracing yourself, you groaned when your foot slipped, making you fall, your arm hitting the ground hard.

“Damn it.” You muttered, the loud noise of a car stopping suddenly getting your attention. The rain clouded your vision as a blur moved towards you, and arms pulled you up, back to your feet.

“Miss (Y/L/N).” He had said. “Are you alright?”

You could only nod, the words caught in your throat because you were aware of how close to his body he was holding you. Mr. Wick stood tall, way taller than you, like a tower. You didn't want to, but the cold was taking over, and your body collided against his, seeking some warmth. “I'm ok.” You lied, looking up and meeting those dark eyes, as dark as the night that surrounded both of you. That time you noticed he was much older than you and the proximity allowed you to feel the muscles under the suit. You couldn't help but feel intimidated, suddenly so small and fragile.

“Come. Let me drive you home.” Mr. Wick guided you to his car, opening the passenger door and helping you in. You were feeling terribly dizzy, so you didn't complain.

“I-I live on the house next to yours.” You said, shaking like a leaf. “On the left.”

“I know.” He answered, giving you a worried look.

Once he stopped by your house, you opened the door and started making the way to the front door, thankful to reach the porch that offered shelter from the rain, but not from the cold. You searched for the keys, but soon enough you remembered you had left them at Taylor's, on her kitchen table. Alongside your phone.

“Shit.” You whispered to yourself, looking over your shoulder, seeing that Mr. Wick was still standing there, in the rain, as if waiting for you to get in.

You didn't quite understand why you felt so scared of him when he had been nothing but gentle to you on every single occasion you happened to meet. But the very sight of him sends a wave of nervousness through your body. Mr. Wick walks, talks, and even breathes like he hides something, a secret, dark and dangerous. Or maybe it was just the cold and the dizziness messing with your head.

“You may go, Mr. Wick. I... I will have to get back to my friend's. I forgot the keys.” You told him, pushing the wet hair away from your face. “And my phone.”

“I won't let you go back there in this weather. You're clearly feeling sick.” Mr. Wick walked over you, reaching out his hand. “Come to my house. I'll make something warm for you to drink and you can use my phone to call your friend.”

Your answer would be no, obviously. But a flash of bright lightning crossed the sky, followed by a rumble of deafening thunder, which, it seems, was loud enough to open up the skies and strengthen the rain, if that was even possible. “I promise I only want to help.” He said, and that made you nod and step forward, taking his hand.

Mr. Wick had an arm around your waist during the short walk to his house. You breathed out, relieved for the warmth when you stepped in. While he disappeared into the house, you seated on the coffee table instead of the couch, since you were soaking wet. He was quick to bring you a towel and a tea, handing you his cellphone. But for some reason, Taylor wouldn't pick up, so you had no choice but to hand Mr. Wick his phone back. It seemed like the whole Universe was against you that night.

“She won't answer.” You said feeling his fingers brushing on yours when he took the phone from your cold, shaking hand. Looking up, you noticed he changed into dry clothes. Jeans a white T-shirt. He looks handsome, as he always does. There must be a reason for him not to have a girlfriend or anyone in his life. There must be a catch, a plot twist somewhere here. Someone looking like Mr. Wick must have a long trail of hearts wanting to belong to him. “I'm sorry, Mr. Wick, for all the trouble I'm causing you.”

“You may call me John.” He said, sitting on the couch before you. You didn't know why, but it came out to you that he moved like a predator, steady and always in full alert. But his voice was kind, low and calming. He knew you were scared of him, of course, he did. Nothing goes unnoticed by him.

“You may call me (Y/N), then.” You muttered, sipping on your tea.

“A pretty name for a pretty lady.” The compliment made you smile, looking down to hide your blushing cheeks. “I can give you dry clothes. Until you get to contact your friend.”

And so he did. Mr. Wick... John... Gave you one of his sweatpants and shirt, and you changed off of your soaking clothes. You felt stupid, ugly, in his baggy clothes, bracing yourself as if trying to disappear as you made your way back to the living room, ignoring how cold the floor was under your bare feet. John's eyes lingered for a while, as you walked over him, taking a seat on the couch, keeping a distance.

“May I... May I ask what do your work with, Mr... John.” You corrected yourself and he smiled. The question only came up because the silence was as intimidating as him. Any kind of conversation would help, you thought.

“I'm retired.” He simply said. “What about you?”

“I'm an office administrator. From a... An office that sells medical equipment.” God, you sounded like an idiot. You felt so small, tiny, compared to him. And ugly, set side by side with him. From this up close, his handsomeness was shocking, breathtaking. The way his eyes were set on you made you shiver, clearing your throat, you tried to push the words out. “I just started though... I just moved here two months ago.”

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

His question got you by surprise, and you looked up, meeting his intense eyes. “No. I just...” A humorless laugh left your lips, and you pushed the hair away from your face. “I must look so bad in these.” You gestured at yourself, and then to him. “And you're just... More. I mean...”

You froze when you felt his hand on your face, fingertips running across your jaw, leaving a trail of fire. “I think you look beautiful. Even on my baggy clothes.”

You suddenly realized you wanted to kiss him. The sudden change was a surprise, and you were perplexed with yourself. The fear was slowly sinking, opening a new space, which was being filled with something else. Curiosity. A sudden need to know why John was touching you so gently, why he was saying those things. You felt your body moving closer to him, almost as if being pulled involuntary, like a magnet. You wanted to touch him, to know how he's beard would feel under your fingers, but you didn't know if you could.

“Can-can I...” You stuttered, biting your tongue. How was it possible, that your mind worked in such a weird way? That all of a sudden, you wanted him, the man you've been trying to avoid? You were a mess that night, threatening to fall apart right before him.

John took your hand, softly, bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss on your fingers, as soft as silk. You felt his stubble, eyes fixed of the shape of his lips. “You don't have to be so nervous around me, (Y/N),” John said, his voice barely a whisper. “And, if you want, I'd like to take you out on a date.”

“You want to take me out?” You repeated, speaking too fast, trying to understand why in the hell would a man like John wants to go on a date with a girl like you. It didn't make sense, and you had this feeling that trying to understand would only lead to a dead end.

“I do.” You muttered because there was no other possible answer. Another kiss came, this time on your cheek, dangerously close to your lips.

A car approaching drags you away from the warm memory, and you're finally able to avert your eyes from his house. You miss him, and somehow looking at the empty house makes you feel a little better. He did take you out, on the next night. And you have been to several dates by now, too many to count.

“My neighbor is simultaneously the scariest and nicest person I ever met.” You told Taylor on the day after your second date with John Wick. She laughed and you blushed, because on the night before, John kissed you by your front door, for the first time. You had to tiptoe, despite the high heels you were wearing, your arms quick to pull him closer, welcoming his touch.

“Are you in love with him?” She asked, smirking.

“I think I am.” You admitted on a low voice.

John Wick was a patient man. He waited, he worked hard to make you feel comfortable around him. And he succeeded.

Today, you smile to yourself. The intimidation John caused completely replaced by love. The kind of love you never thought you'd feel, the kind you didn't even know existed.

“Sweetheart.” A voice reaches you, carried by the wind. Immediately, you put your feet down and stand up, turning to find John, stepping out of his car.

“My love.” You run into his embrace, arms wrapping around his neck as you tiptoe to kiss him, his soft lips suddenly making the cold leave your skin. “I missed you so much. If I knew you'd come back today I'd cook something nice for you.” Whispering, you don't step away from his embrace.

“That's even better because now I can help you.” His deep, strong voice still sends shivers down your body, but for a very different reason now.

“Let's go then.” Smiling to him, you entangle your fingers on his, following his pace to his house.

The place that once terrified you now feels more like home than your own. As does John. In his arms, you find solace, safety, unending love.

#john wick #john wick x oc #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #imagine john wick #john wick imagine #john wick fanfiction

537 notes · View notes

heavenunderthemoon · 4 years ago

Text

Pinky Promise {Jennifer Jareau x daughter! reader}

Summary: JJ, coming from a small town with hardly any sexual education that wasn't abstinence- centric, found herself pregnant. You, her daughter, await her return from another case leading to an interesting conversation between the Jareau girls when she arrives home.

Warnings: teenage pregnancy, extreme fluff

Author’s note: I have a lot of content ideas for this concept so should I just post a lot of blurbs? Idk let me know what y'all think. Also, I didn't put an age for the reader in here because I don't want to exclude anyone so if you are looking for one you won’t find it, anyways enjoy lovelies<3

Rainbow sock clad feet pattered against the house's carpeted floors, the small two bedroom home quiet in the early morning hours.

Typically, you didn't wake this early. You had far outgrown the age in which your internal clock matched that of the rising sun. Your mother attributed your abnormal sleep schedule to the amount of coffee you drank, though you simply pointed the finger right back at her. You learned your caffeine addiction from the best, after all.

No, you didn't normall wake up this early but this morning you had because today was Tuesday. Tuesday's typically help very little importance. You had school, of course, soccer practice afterward and then homework until it was time for bed (very riveting). But this Tuesday was different because it had been precisely five days that your mother had been gone and she had called last night to tell you that she would be home by the time you woke up.

Your first response had been that you would stay up, waiting for her until she arrived. Sometimes you could get away with that. If the jet landed around nine she didn't mind you pushing back your sleep schedule just for her. But, she was still your mother and she still had her limitations. It'll be too late, your mother had whispered into the line, afraid of waking her coworkers. You had protested, but the sleepy yawns had made you sigh defeatedly, telling her to be safe before giving in to your fatigue.

But, none of that mattered now, because as your hand pushed open the door to your mother's bedroom, you recognized the lump underneath the blankets strewn across the bed. You had taken up knitting over the past year- when your mother was gone Garcia was typically tasked with checking in or even staying the night at times and she had taught you the skill. A tuft of blonde hair peeked out from one side of the bed and you grinned tiredly, not hesitating to climb onto the queen sized mattress.

You remembered those days not too many years ago. The days before your mother had gotten her job at the BAU, still struggling as a single mother in school, supporting her child all by herself. The days that had you two sharing beds in a teeny-tiny apartment. You hadn't minded all too much and, though you probably wouldn't admit it aloud, you missed it sometimes, falling asleep in her arms.

As you clambered into the sheets your mother's eyes fluttered open, a lazy smile coming onto her features. She looked as she always did after coming home from cases- tired, drained, but happy to see you. She turned her body to face you, a deep breath being exhaled as she pulled you into her side, a soft kiss being placed onto your forehead. You closed your eyes at the feeling, humming in response.

"Hi, baby." Her words were jumbled, exhaustion seeping through her tone but she smiled all the same, keeping her forehead connected with yours while she caressed your cheek.

She recalled all those years ago, discovering she was pregnant in that small town of hers. The scandal of her teen pregnancy had been the talk of the town up until the moment she left, and then hardships bigger than gossip had come. Having you, alone with no support system, clutching the hand of the kind nurse at the hospital. The small apartments, intense couponing, food stamps, and learning to sew baby clothes to save costs. So many years of struggling and she wouldn't trade a second of it because it had given her you.

Her daughter. A sweet, and funny, and kind girl who was more like her best friend than her kid. The kind of girl she called at least twice a day when on a case, wanting to hear every single detail about her daughter's day and answered when you asked about hers.

"I missed you." You whispered back, voice raspy from sleep. "How was the case?" You asked even if you knew you wouldn't get all the details.

"Hard, but it's over." The blonde responded truthfully, relief taking over her features and her eyes suddenly lit up, as if just remembering something. "How did your essay go? Total hit? Book deals completely flooding our mailbox?" She teased, and you chuckled, shaking your head at her goofiness.

"A-plus." You boated before wiggling your eyebrows. "No book deals yet, but I'll keep my ear to the ground." You quipped back and she laughed, heaving a small sigh afterward.

Staring at you, only a small amount of light from her sun-shaped nightlight (she had a weird obsession with the sun that you liked to tease her for, buying her sun shaped everything - even a spoon that she always used to eat cereal with). It provided just enough light to see your eyes staring back at her, the eyes that she had created with that old boyfriend of hers in high school, the teenage boy skipping town as soon as she had told him the news. She recalled seeing those eyes when you were born, solidifying the love she had felt growing as each day had passed with you in her belly. The eyes that, as soon as they had opened, your mouth opening to let out that beautiful, ear splitting, heart wrenching wail that signified your entrance into the world, had made her fall in love so deeply she felt she was being crushed under the weight of it all.

Guilt ate at her, as it always did. Guilt for not being the perfect, PTA-mom. The mom who made home-made muffins for bake sales or drove you to school everyday. She wasn't negligent, not in the slightest. She knew that. But part of her always feared that you might resent her for the certain spots that she could never quite fill.

"Do you hate me? For not being here all the time?" Jennifer voiced her concerns quietly, and the mere tone of her words made you pause because she seldom took that tone with you. A tone that showed just how afraid she was of her daughter's resentment, a resentment that could easily be caused by how little she was home.

The question alone made you furrow your brows, not hesitating to answer. "What? No!" And you were sitting up because how could you possibly hate her? How could you hate your mother? Your mother who had kept you safe, done everything in her power to make sure you remained that way. The mother who, yes, missed a couple things over the years but always made sure she was there on your birthday and holidays and the really, really important things. You recalled her tradition every year, swinging open your door at the exact moment you were born, regardless of the early hour, and singing you awake. A tiny cupcake in her hand (store-bought because, as discussed, she was an awful cook), a flickering sparkle candle (was a candle really a candle without sparkles?). That look that she gave you under the dimness of that flame, the look that said that she would do anything, go anywhere, be anyone for you. The look that made you know you were safe, and that even if she told you to make a wish you wouldn't even need to make one because you had everything you could ask for.

Jennifer sat up, her hand going to her distressed daughter's back, watching the pure horror on her face.

"I don't hate you, why would I hate you-" You were distraught, voice an octave higher and she shushed you softly, apologizing at once.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry-"

You turned back to her, tilting your head. "Why would you even think that?"

Your eyes scanned her face for any clues while you awaited your answer. She might have been the profiler but you knew your mother. You knew that she absolutely could not go anywhere with mismatched socks. Or that she hated avocado (the texture freaked her out). You knew that, after growing up on a farm, she knew the ins and outs of farm life (she liked to call you a city girl when teasing you and you called her chicken Joe just to get even). You knew that after years of scrimping on luxurious things she still wouldn't allow herself to buy nice things for herself, only for you. And you knew that, being that she was a media liaison, communicating was one of her best traits. So, you listened carefully.

She sighed, scooting to put her back against the headboard, reaching out to pull on the string that would turn on the bedside lamp, illuminating the room, before motioning for you to join her. Her arm stayed out, allowing you to snuggle in, your head falling onto her shoulder before she answered.

"I'm your mom. I'm supposed to be here." she said, eyes trained on the blanket you had made for her last month. You were getting better, this one hadn't yet fallen apart, but it was still a subpar attempt, despite what Garcia had told you.

"You are here." You tried, but the blonde was shaking her head. She had changed from her work clothes, the aforementioned outfit lying abandoned on the floor, the only spot in a very clean room. Her hair that she almost always had down was thrown into a bun and a few pieces lay forgotten in the front, tickling your cheek when she shook her head.

"No, I'm not. I'm on a jet every week, thousands of miles away from my daughter, thinking about what she's doing and who she's with and I feel like I'm missing everything important. And I don't want you to hate me-"

"I could never hate you." You cut her off, and you moved once more, making sure she was looking into your eyes because as much as you knew her, you also knew that she would never really believe you, not about this, and the eye contact would help in the slightest. "You go away every week because those people need you. You go help the people who need you, just like you help me when I need you." She went to protest, but you continued. "And just because you aren't here, doesn't mean you're not here. You're like Patrick Swayze in Ghost, okay? It's like I can still feel your presence-"

Your teasing made her let out a sad chuckle, sighing softly. You smiled at the sound, grabbing her hand.

"I mean it, kid. We're in this for the long haul." You narrowed your eyes playfully, bringing up a pinky.

She smiled and, for just a moment, she could look at you and see the baby she had raised. The small, premature baby that had clutched onto her finger, as if telling her they would make it through the night. The toddler who had turned up her nose at peas, exclusively eating pureed carrots for three months straight. The five year old who had begged her to learn how to ride a bike and then immediately pleaded for her to not let go of the back. 'If you let go, I'll die, I'm sure of it.' You informed seriously. The eight year old reading books twice the normal reading level, or the ten year old adorned in a scarecrow costume, passed out on the couch from eating too much candy. The thirteen year old who had suddenly hit a growth spurt, all your jeans high-watered that she would replace because you would never outright ask for new jeans. And now the you in front of her. The cool, thoughtful, amazing kid that she would never quite understand how she had deserved you.

Bringing her pinky up to yours, interlocking it. "Okay. But, you know that if you ever do resent me- and I'm talking, Mother dearest level kind of resentment you have to tell me so that I can at least play my part."

You smiled, scooting back to your place in her arms. "That takes the fun away."

It was silent for another moment, only the crickets chirping in the backyard heard, before she was speaking once more. "You know, I'm supposed to be the one reassuring you. My old age is making me emotional."

You let your body slump against hers. "We can take turns. If I let you bear that weight alone you might break a hip."

She scoffed, nudging your body. 'Ha-ha, very funny. how about I take Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and you take Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

Your eyes fluttered shut, despite knowing that even with it being far too early for you both to be up there was no way you were going back to sleep. "What about Saturdays and Sundays?"

Jennifer closed her eyes as well, trying to engrain the feeling of your body in her arms while she still had the chance. Before you found cuddling with your mom weird, or before she had to go away on another case and fall asleep alone and in a hotel bed.

"We'll flip a coin for it."

"Fair enough."

#jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds #spencer reid x reader #Jennifer Jareau x daughter! reader

263 notes · View notes

lokis-army-77 · 3 years ago

Text

If You Please

Chapter eleven

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3560

This is technically a reader insert but without the (y/n) and all that. She also has no name mentioned so feel free to imagine as you please.

Follow the reader through the events of the Captain America movies and experience her love for Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: none

Note: Honestly, this chapter reads a little weird to me but my friend who helps me edit said it was fine. IDK going from the 40s to 2012 is weird when trying to write.

<< Previous Next>>

Masterlist

Seven months had gone by since Steve and I had been unfrozen. This new world I suddenly woke up in was exhausting. Everything had changed from the simplest thing like manners to complicated things like technology.

Days after waking up, we had been sent to a place called “The Retreat” so we could catch up on the seventy years we had missed out on. There was so much that we took to writing everything down in small notebooks, so we could remember.

I caught onto using the new technology quicker than Steve since I had worked with Howard Stark for several years. Being able to adapt to strange and new tech on the fly was a requirement when working with him.

After those few weeks there, we were both moved into two separate government apartments located in New York. I wish I could say that it got easier with time, but it didn’t. Instead of going to hang out with Steve or actually trying to make acquaintances with anyone, I just stayed in my room, locked away from everything. Coping with being in the future was the easy part, learning to live without everyone I ever knew was hard.

I hadn't known peaceful sleep in a long time. Every time I closed my eyes I am met with nightmares. The softness of the mattress had made it feel like I would fall through at any moment, back into the ice. To try and combat this I pushed my bed into the far corner of the room and made a cot directly under the frame. It felt safer to lay on the hard floor in the dark. The nightmares still came through, sometimes they were battles, sometimes they were of the plane crashing, but most of the time they were about losing Bucky. Every time I woke up in a cold sweat and never went back to bed. I just stared unblinking at the metal that made the bed frame.

One night after a particularly taxing dream I decided to take a walk. It was three in the morning, so I wouldn't have to deal with a lot of people. I changed out of my pajamas into some of the clothes I had been provided. The clothes of the future were tighter than in the forties. It had taken me a while to get used to the feeling of fabric clinging to my legs and upper body. The outside world was quiet except for the occasional car passing by. I kept my eyes to the ground, not really caring where I ended up. I only looked up when I was almost run over by another late-night walker. Peering from left to right, my eyes fixed on an old faded sign hanging above me. The letters were just barely readable and said in large letters ‘Boxing gym’. With another survey of the area, I realized where I was. This was the gym that Bucky used to take Steve when teaching him self-defense. I had tagged along a couple of times before I had joined the SSR, I was surprised it was still here. I smiled weakly and turned to the door. The light inside was on, it couldn’t hurt to see if they were open. The door creaked open and I slipped in quietly. The sound of someone working out came down the long brick hallway. Hesitantly I made my way to the open doors that led to the sparring room.

Stopping just past the threshold, to my surprise, I spotted Steve, who was busy punching the life out of a punching bag. I walked through the small office and around the boxing rings before I stopped again and leaned against one of the columns a few feet away from where Steve stood. I watched him for a while before he landed a hard punch on the bag and it flew off into the distance. I started clapping slowly and he turned around in shock.

“Good job, you broke the bag, but you do know you’re gonna have to pay for that right?”

“Hey kid, I haven’t seen you in a while. I came by your apartment but you didn’t answer.”

“I know Stevie, I just haven't felt up to company since we got back to New York. I hope you can forgive me.” He looked at me with sad eyes and took three long steps in my direction. His arms came out to engulf me in a hug.

“It’s okay, I understand. Promise you’ll tell me if something's wrong, okay?” I nodded into his chest and he squeezed me tighter.

“I couldn't sleep, I guess you couldn't either.”

“No, too many thoughts.” He let go of me and went to get two more punching bags. He hung them up a few feet away from one another before turning to me and asking if I wanted to join. Pretty soon we were both laughing together if it felt almost like we were back home before everything happened. That was until the same dark-skinned man from that day seven months ago showed up. I later learned he was Nick Fury, director of SHIELD.

“I’m glad to find you both here.” He stated.

“Are you here with a mission, Sir?” Steve asked.

“I am.”

“Is this to try and get us back out in the world?” I asked.

“No, I'm trying to save it.” he thrust out an open manila folder. I grabbed it slowly and brought it to where Steve and I could both look at it. The blue cube that had evaporated Johann Schmidt was in the photograph pinned to the first page. In large bold letters beside the pictures spelled out TESSERACT. We slowly walked to a nearby bench and sat down.

“That's HYDRA’s secret weapon. I thought it fell into the ocean that day,” I whispered.

“Howard fished it out of the water when they went looking for you both. He thought what we think, that this cube could be an unlimited sustainable energy source.” Fury informed us.

“Who took it from you?” Steve questioned.

“He’s called Loki, he’s not from around here. We have a lot we're gonna need to catch you both up on if you agree to help. This world has gotten stranger than you already know.”

“I doubt anything could surprise us anymore, right Stevie?”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Ten bucks says you’re both wrong.” Fury bet. We both got up from our seats and handed the file back. Steve went and grabbed another bag from the floor and I just headed straight for the door.

“There are debriefing packets at your apartments, read through them and get back to me by tomorrow afternoon. And before you leave, is there anything we should know about the tesseract?”

“You should have left it in the ocean.” Steve and I said at once before walking out of the gym. Once we were outside on the sidewalk we hugged and said our goodbyes for the moment and then went our separate ways.

The walk home felt longer than the walk to the gym, but this gave me time to think about what I wanted to do. Whether I wanted to go on this mission, or if I just wanted to lay low and live my life. By the time I walked through my front door I had almost made my decision, but I was waiting to read the file before I decided for good. With a quick look through the minimal information provided I sighed and threw the papers down onto my kitchen counter. Shaking my head I murmured to myself.

“No, I am not doing this. This cube is not worth it.” Rubbing my eyes I went back to my room and crawled under the bed, not caring that I was still in jeans and a t-shirt. I was not going to walk blindly into anything dealing with that cube again. I lost my fiance and everyone I have ever known because of that stupid blue thing, I'm not going to go anywhere near it again. I laid there quietly for a while before I eventually drifted off into a restless sleep.

The next morning I woke up with a start, almost hitting my head on the bed above me. Furious honking made its way from the street into my room. One thing I definitely missed from the past was how quiet it once was at seven a.m.

Along with the decision to not join the mission, I had also made up my mind about leaving New York. This had been a long decision in the making and the talk with Fury last night was enough to make the choice for me. I couldn't live in this city anymore. The places I used to hang out at were still here, but they had been renovated so many times that they were unrecognizable. Everywhere I turned It was like I was walking through a strange alternate reality. I saw glimpses of the past, like ghosts around every corner, it was worse when it was a place Bucky and I frequented.

When I had gotten back from the Retreat I made the mistake of going to mine and Steve’s old apartment. It had been torn down to construct a bookstore, along with several other retail shops. I broke down in the street when I saw it, waves upon waves of emotions crashed into me. All the memories I had there with Steve, mom, and Bucky had no place to live now other than in my mind. The next mistake I made was to go down the next few blocks to Bucky’s apartment he shared with his mom and sister, Rebecca. It was no longer there either, a bakery stood in its place. I turned and left before the onslaught of tears came. After that day I thought it would be best to go somewhere else, somewhere I had no memories.

I crawled out from under the bed and slowly moved to the bathroom to start getting ready for the long day to come. Once I had showered and gotten dressed I sat myself down on the living room sofa, looking wearily at the telephone on the end table. Hesitantly I picked up the receiver and dialed the number that had been in the tesseract briefing file. It rang twice before Nick Fury answered.

“Mr. Fury, I’m calling to tell you that I won’t be joining your team for whatever mission you have going on. I just want to lay low and rebuild my life and live it quietly without interruption.” I let out a long breath.

“Well, that’s unfortunate. Was really hoping to have you fight with us. If you change your mind, you know where to contact me. Goodbye Agent Rogers.” He hung up quickly after that, not giving me a chance to tell him goodbye as well. The next call was going to be the hard one, I had to tell Steve my plans. I dialed his number slowly as I raised the receiver to my ear. It didn’t even have time to get through the first ring before Steve picked up.

“Hello?” He asked on the other end.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“What’s up kid. Have you called Fury about joining the mission? I called about an hour ago letting them know I’d help.” He sounded a little enthusiastic.

“That’s actually what I’m calling about. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this but I’m not going to help with the mission.”

“Oh,” he sounded surprised. “Why not? I thought you’d want to help get rid of that thing once and for all.”

“It’s not that, I want nothing more than for the tesseract to be gone for good. I just don’t think I can be a part of it, I don’t want this thing to take over my life if we can’t get rid of it. This brings me to another important thing I need to tell you. I can’t stay here in New York, so I’m moving to DC.” He was quiet for a while after I had said that, the only thing I could hear coming from his side was his breath. I grew more anxious by the minute waiting for him to say something.

“What do you mean you’re moving? Why can’t you stay here with me?”

“Don’t be selfish.” I snapped.

“I’m not being selfish, you are.” he raised his voice. I huffed through my nose, getting annoyed.

“I can’t stay here any longer. I have no idea what it is like for you, but for me, being in this city is torture. I see ghosts from the past every time I leave my house. I can’t go anywhere without seeing him, and every time I see him, I break down. I never got to say goodbye and that day plays over and over in my head. Steve, I’m being tormented with nightmares to the point where I have barely gotten five hours of sleep in the past week. I need to get out of here whether you like it or not.” Tears had started to stream down my face as I yelled into the phone.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have helped you, I still can help you if you let me. If you leave I can’t keep you safe, I can’t protect you like I’m supposed to.” He was using his soft “grown-up” voice he always used with me when I was younger to try and calm me down but the tears kept streaming down my cheeks at a rapid pace.

“I can protect myself, we did take the same serum,” I choked out. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to bother you with my problems, I can deal with them myself. Plus you have your own things to deal with, you don’t need to help me with mine.” My head was starting to hurt now and my cheeks and neck itched with quickly drying tears.

“Fine. The only way I will be okay with you leaving is if you promise to call me at least twice a week and you let me help you move.” I gave a strained laugh and nodded, even if he couldn't see it.

“Okay, it’s a deal. I actually already have an apartment lined up, so you can come over and help me pack everything up whenever you want to. I’m going to try and be out of New York by the end of next week.”

“I’ll be right over.” I laughed as I told him that I’d be waiting. I laid the receiver back down in its spot and stood up to go to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror, thinking. I was glad my relationship with Steve could handle an argument, understand one another, then go right back to normal, I don’t think we would be this close if it couldn't. I blinked back a few stubborn tears and bent down to grab a rag from the sink cabinet, I dampened it in warm water then wiped the dried tears from my face. The warm water felt wonderful on my skin.

Over the next week and a half, Steve and I boxed up what few belongings I had and packed them and the furniture into a moving truck. I didn’t own a car so the moving truck would be my transportation to DC. One of the many things SHIELD had us do was take a modern driving test, which wasn’t hard, just a few more signs to remember and more gadgets in the car than there used to be, I ended up passing with flying colors.

By Friday morning we had everything ready to go. Steve would follow me on his motorcycle and I would drive the truck the whole three and a half hours to my new apartment.

We stopped several times on the way down, mainly so Steve didn’t have to sit on the bike for the whole three hours straight. We also stopped for lunch. All in all the trip took us about five hours, with traffic added. We made it to my new home just after two and we started moving my belongings in immediately.

Admittedly the apartment was way too big for just me but I liked the extra space, it was different from the tiny two-bedroom apartment I had grown up in. The first thing I made sure to unpack and put up was the bed. I still hadn't told Steve I wasn’t actually sleeping in the bed, but he didn’t need to know that. After that clothes were sorted through and put in their respective places. With our enhanced strength and stamina, we had the whole place relatively furnished in just under two hours. We stopped for dinner when everything had been brought up from the moving truck.

The day went by fast with us talking and laughing like we used to, it was a good change of pace from my usual aimlessly roaming around my apartment alone. But, all good things have to come to an end and Steve had to leave. He pulled me into a tight hug, almost crushing me, and wouldn’t let go until I pinky promised to call him several times a week. I just laughed and promised him I would. I was sad watching him walk down the hallway to the stairs.

I turned back into my apartment and closed the door, locking it behind me. I stared at the box littering the floor and decided to get to work unpacking the rest of what we hadn’t gotten earlier.

Most of my belongings I found in thrift stores and antique shops around the city. It may have been the twenty-first century now, but that wasn’t stopping me from making my home a comfortable, familiar space. If you walked in from the outside world, you would have thought you had been transported to the past with how much authentic 1940s and before things I had littered about. Some things had been saved from the apartment we lived in in the forties. I learned a few weeks before we came back from the retreat that Peggy had been the one to put everything in storage after they had failed to find Steve and me in the ice. I had gone through all of it and took out what I wanted to take with me and Steve had done the same. I was thankful Peggy had done what she did, otherwise, everything would have been lost to time.

That night as I tried to sleep, I realized it was a little easier to relax. DC was a whole lot quieter than New York, there was no honking or yelling every two seconds to keep me awake. I was left alone in almost complete silence, which for others may be worse than being bombarded with noise, but I didn’t mind. I fell asleep almost an hour after laying down for the night and had a restless sleep. I woke up many times in the night covered in sweat, but I couldn't remember the dreams, anything I could remember dissipated as soon as I opened my eyes.

I woke up again very early the next morning, the clock on my wall said it was four forty-five. It was still dark out, but I could hear birds starting to chirp. I crawled out from under the bed frame and went to put on some exercise clothes. Running always helped to clear my mind after not being able to get any sort of rest. The run itself didn’t take long, even though it was seven miles, any normal person would be exhausted but I had barely broken a sweat. I did get to see some nice places, taking a route around the zoo, to the National Cathedral, and then back around to the Dupont Circle neighborhood, where my apartment was. The sun was just starting to come up as I made my way back into my building.

Although I had just moved in the day before, I was ready to start finding some sort of job. The money SHIELD was giving me to help assimilate back into the world comfortably was appreciated, but I wanted to make my own way in life without their help. Finding a job was going to be harder than it used to be, but I did have expertise in several areas. Upon being unfrozen, along with the driving tests, SHIELD created a new resume for me. I had degrees in history pertaining to the 1940s, World War II, and several of the New Deal programs, with a specialty in the SSR. I was also given a Veteran ID, although I don’t really know how that one works because I definitely was not a part of the apparent ongoing fighting in Afghanistan. I still looked twenty-four, I doubt anyone would believe it.

Anyway, I had interviews lined up for today at the Smithsonian, and hopefully, the resume that SHIELD created and my knowledge would be enough to land a job. I had already figured that I would be volunteering at the local VFW. I knew I could find people there to relate to and hopefully be able to make some friends.

Tag List: @ginger-swag-rapunzel @underc0vercryptid-reads @geek-and-proud @intothesoul @leyannrae @starkleila

#james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x rogers!reader #winter solider x reader #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction

23 notes · View notes

queenxxxsupreme · 4 years ago

Note

Okay but like a fluffy eskel bit/one shot about a sweet and gentle hearth witch reader who lives in the valleys just south of Kaer Morhen who eskel visits with going to and from Mountain Pass. He brings her books and trinkets from his travels. She restocks his potions and tends to physical and emotional wounds.

Lil Bleater loves her obviously and they joke about her being their “kid” (lol goat humor).

The first time he says he loves her and it’s super sweet and emotional. And maybe he brings her a piece of jewelry that’s super sentimental. Idk I’m just in an Eskel loving mood, you know?

Pleeeeease? 🥺❤️

A/N: Babe you hit me right in my feels with this one. I hope you liked this!!

***

There was a knock at the front door that brought you out of the book in your hand.

You lifted your head, eyes finding the door to your home. You listened for a few moments, wanting to see if you could hear who it was.

Lil Bleater loudly bleated and butted her head against the side of your chair.

“I know. I’m going to get it.” You patted her head then stood to your feet.

You pulled the door open, smiling at the sight of a familiar dark haired witcher.

“Hi, doll.” Eskel smiled softly at you, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He was exhausted, dark circles made their home beneath his honey eyes.

“Hello, love.” You held your hand out. “I wasn’t expecting you for another month or so. It’s still fairly warm outside.”

“I hope that isn’t inconvenient for you.” He placed his hand in yours, brushing his thumb across your knuckles, and stepped into your home.

“You’re never inconvenient to me.” You assured him, squeezing his hand.

Before he had a chance to put down the two bags he carried, Lil Bleater was eagerly ramming into Eskel’s shins, bleating and demanding attention.

“Your daughter missed you.” You sighed, smiling softly at how her little tail flickered back and forth so quickly.

“And I missed her.” Eskel put his bags aside and knelt down to greet the goat. He rubbed her head and then down her back. “Hi, girl. Did you behave?”

“As behaved as she usually is.” You answered, moving to the kettle that hung over the fire. “She hasn’t torn apart any of my dresses when I hang them up on the line outside to dry, so that’s good.”

“Yeah.” Eskel nodded, standing back to his full height. “I still owe you for that.” He thought out loud, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Oh, no worries.” You shook your head, peeking up at him through your lashes. “I’m sure I can think of other ways you could repay me.”

His neck and ears flushed red.

“Let me get this tea started and then I will properly greet you.” You poured the steaming hot water into two mugs and then added the tea leaves.

You rubbed your hands together and moved around the table.

Eskel embraced you tightly, arms wrapping around you and pulling you into his body. He tucked his nose into your hair, freezing as he relished in your warm touch.

“I missed you.” You told him, your hand rubbing his side.

“Missed you too.” He exhaled steadily, then kissed the top of your head as he released you. You lifted your head from his chest so that you could look at him. His hand cupped the side of your face, the rough pad of his thumb brushing across your cheek. “I decided to come this way early. Wanted to spend a little extra time with you this time. One week isn’t enough.”

“I’m more than happy to have you.” You turned your head to kiss his palm. “Why don’t you go to the creek around back? Clean up a little and get out of this armor?”

“Are you saying I smell?” He grinned a little.

“No.” You laughed softly. “I just won’t make good company while I’m trying to get dinner ready for us. And you don’t need to be in this armor any longer.”

He nodded, looking down at Lil Bleater, who was curiously nosing through one of his bags.

“I’ll put my bags in the other room.” Eskel dipped his head down to kiss your nose. “Don’t want either of you taking a peek at the things I’ve got for you.”

“I would never.” You shook your head, though the grin on your lips gave away that you were lying.

Though you insisted that Eskel didn’t need to bring you anything back from his journey across the Continent during the warm months of the year, he still did. It had always been that way since you first met. You were always excited to see what he brought for you. Last year, it had been a few books on herbalism and alchemy and a few gemstones.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” He chuckled. He moved away from you to pick up his bags and take them into your bedroom.

Lil Bleater followed him, her hooves beating against the wooden floorboards as she demanded attention.

“I’ll take her with me.” Eskel told you as he headed for the front door. Tucked underneath one arm were a few articles of clothing, something more comfortable than his armor, no doubt.

“Please do. She’ll tear my door down trying to get to you.” You moved into the kitchen to prepare dinner.

You watched Eskel and Lil Bleater leave, a little smile coming to your lips.

To say you were happy would be an understatement. You were overjoyed, thrilled even. Usually, Eskel only spent two weeks with you a year. Once at the beginning of spring just as he left Kaer Morhen. It was then that he would drop Lil Bleater off to you for you to watch her while he was on the Path, and you would refill his potions. And once again at the end of the warm season before he retired to the keep for the winter. He’d leave you a list of the potions and elixirs he needed that way you’d have all winter to ensure they were refilled correctly. He always insisted you didn’t have to do it, but you were more stubborn than him. You wanted to help him and you refused to take his coin when he tried to pay you. Sometimes, he’d sneak down from Kaer Morhen during the winter to see you. You’d known him for what felt like centuries, but it had only been six years. The relationship you had with him shouldn’t have been so strong.

You knew it was silly to wait so eagerly for a man. However, you were willing to wait for him no matter how long he would be gone. You adored the witcher and admired him. He was a gentle soul scarred by a harsh lifestyle he had no say in.

You knew neither of your lifestyles would allow for the ‘perfect’ life with a family.

You had been a mage at one point in time, advisor to the Temerian royal family. You’d given up the political life a century ago to move to Kaedwen. You settled in the valley beneath the Blue Mountains which Kaer Morhen was nestled into. There, you became known to a village an hour or so away. The humans who lived there would travel to you seeking herbal remedies when one of their own were sick or when their village seemed to be plagued by famine or drought.

And Eskel was a witcher. With his lifestyle alone, a family wouldn’t be possible. He was meant to be in one place for too long.

The way things worked between you two now would be the only way you could be together. You couldn’t abandon your home to follow Eskel around the Continent, and he wouldn’t want you to.

You were content with the life you had.

You were pulled from your thoughts when the front door opened.

Eskel walked in, now in a pair of black trousers and a dark red tunic that wasn’t laced up all the way at the chest.

He smiled at you and you returned the gesture.

“Have I ever told you how much I love that color on you?” You asked him, returning your gaze to the bread you were kneading.

“I think you’ve mentioned it about every time I wear this.” He nodded his head.

Your eyes flickered up briefly to catch sight of him. There was a dark spot you hadn’t noticed before, a bruise on his chest no longer covered by armor. It was where the material dipped down into a V and the laces weren’t pulled together.

“Eskel, what’s that?” You asked him, stepping away from the bread and wiping your hands off.

His eyes followed your gaze.

“Oh. Just a bruise.”

“It looks terrible, Eskel.” You pushed the material of his shirt to the side so you could get a better look. “Eskel.” You murmured his name.

The bruise was dark blue and angry, more than likely fresh since it had yet to turn yellow and heal.

“When did this happen?”

“Early this morning. There was a fiend.” He took your hand from his chest. “It’ll be okay.”

“Shouldn’t it start healing by now?” You furrowed your brows together, looking up at him.

“It kicked me pretty hard, but it’ll be okay. Should be gone by tomorrow night.”

You frowned, looking back down at the mark.

Eskel wouldn’t let you linger on his injury. He took ahold of your chin and tilted your head up, leaning down to steal a kiss from you.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s hard not to worry.” You sighed, leaning into him for a few heartbeats. “I never know where you’re at or what’s happening to you.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized quietly, dipping his head down to rest his lips on your forehead.

***

He stayed in the kitchen while you made dinner, keeping you company and telling you little stories from his time on the Path this year.

After you both ate, he helped you clean up the kitchen so that he could give you the gifts he brought this time.

He carried a couple different sachets and sat down next to you at the table.

“I got these from Vengerberg.” He passed you a little dark red sachet. “There’s a little shop there that sells a lot of cute little stones and rocks. These ones made me think of you.”

You opened the sachet and carefully poured the contents out onto the table. There was a bright yellow and orange tumbled stone, a deep blue raw stone, and a light purple raw stone.

“Eskel, they’re beautiful.” You picked them up to hold them in your hands.

“Do you want to know why I picked those ones?” He smiled, happy that you liked your gift.

“Yes! Tell me.”

“Purple is your favorite color, isn’t it?”

You nodded, looking up at him to watch him while he spoke.

“The orange and yellow one reminded me of when the leaves turn. That’s when I finally get to come see you.” His voice lowered to a quiet murmur. “And when I first met you, you wore a dark blue dress. It was my favorite dress on you.”

“Eskel, that’s so sweet.” You leaned forward to hug him tightly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Thank you.”

He hugged you back, squeezing you tightly, and then leaned back in his chair as you examined the stones in your hand.

“There’s something else.” Eskel picked up the second sachet made of dark blue velvet.

You put the stones back into the red sachet and took the blue one from him. You opened it up and poured what was inside on to your hand.

It was a thin gold chain with a little rose quartz pendant.

“Oh, Eskel. It’s beautiful!” You brushed your thumb along the stone.

“It’s a rose quartz. But you-I’m sure you knew that.” He chuckled nervously, rubbing his hands along the tops of his thighs. “Rose quartz is the stone of love.”

Your eyes met his, lips parting as your breath caught in your throat.

“Because I-I love you, Y/N.” He whispered, bringing his eyes down to his hands. “I just…. I needed to tell you that. I need you to know.”

“Eskel.” You smiled at him, putting the necklace down for a second so you could hold his hands. “My love, I’ve known it for a while. You show it with your actions, with returning to me when you can. When you smile at me. And your eyes, they’re so soft and gentle. You don’t need to be so nervous about it.”

“I just…. I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Didn’t want to scare you away.”

“You could never scare me away.” You stood up. He did the same after you tugged gently on his hands. “I love you.”

You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, pulling him down to you. His arms slipped around your waist. He tucked his nose into your shoulder, letting out a soft breath.

“I love you.” He whispered, turning his head to kiss your neck.

“I love you.” You repeated, your hand coming up to the back of his head.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24 @she-wolfoftheinquisition @titaniafire

#Eskel x reader fluff #Eskel fluff #the witcher #eskel x reader #Eskel fic #1200 followers celebration #kacey answers

148 notes · View notes