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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Hue and Cry XVIII

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), trauma, some elements untagged.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The reader and Zemo try to figure out what’s next.

Note: I actually think we’re closer to an end then the beginning. My goal is to finish this before moving onto anything else but that might be my original stuff so I might take a little break after this series to figure that out! Your patience and following along has meant the world to me. <3

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

MASTERLIST

In the coming days, trunks were opened and stuffed with clothes, blankets, and miscellany. The servants did much of the work as when you were asked what to bring, you chose three plain dresses for you and several more outfits for Elina. Zemo tutted and ordered his staff to fill the chests.

There was no distinct urgency however as the horses were to be re-shoed before you set off and the baron seemed content to enjoy the summer sun with your daughter. He would sit with the two of you under the tree or take her on a walk of his sprawling green or dangle some ornament before her to reach for.

Your mind didn’t retreat from the prospect of your departure. He said a fortnight at longest, you had to leave before that. You worried about Elina and how she’d miss him and how she’d fare on the road. She was a healthy child but you couldn’t help but think of all that could go wrong.

The third day after the announcement of your looming trek, you sat on the balcony as Elina chewed on berries and Zemo sat with a book. The air was thick and damp from the heat but the sun was tamped out behind the gathering clouds. He wore his shirt untied at the top so that the fur of his chest peeked out and you wore a sleeveless cotton gown in a pale blue.

“Do you intend on negotiating? Truly?” you asked as your mind wandered.

He looked over the book and reached over to scoop up a slice of strawberry from Elina’s shirt and flicked it into the saucer, “what do you mean?”

“Are you going to try to seal the alliance they want or is it all a ruse?”

“My liege has given me leave to approach their proposal however I wish. If they present some benefits for us then yes, I should like to have peace but… they’ve not offered anything before that we couldn’t find elsewhere,” he shrugged and lowered the book, “are you concerned for them? The people who let you suffer as such?”

“It is still my homeland but that is not what I’m worried for. I wonder how long your patience can wear on,” you said.

“We have spoke on this, we both know--”

“Yes, I know, but… how long should I have left with my daughter?” you hissed.

“You think I mean to take you from her? Perhaps march you to your death?” he scowled.

“I know however this turns out, my place in it is perilous,” you retorted, “do not mock my fears.”

“I do not--” he took a breath and his sneer softened. He chuckled as he leaned forward, “you are stronger than before, you know that? You snap like a lioness. I thought you underestimated me but I see you only misjudge yourself.”

“You are vague with me so how can I trust--”

“I have seen you through your recovery, through a labour, and a life beyond that,” he said, “I only ask a little more for all that I’ve done.”

You sat back and cupped your chin. You looked at Elina, dark juices smeared around her lips. She was entirely undisturbed by the bickering of adults. You reached over and took her tiny, sticky hand.

You thought of Lord Barnes and if you should face him again. The idea made your blood run cold. Would he hate you? Would he still want you? You did not doubt he would have some cruelty left for you but as you were, scarred and hobbled, would it be different? And if he discovered your daughter, what then?

“He can never know about her,” you said softly and cautiously looked at the baron, “please, he can’t--”

“If he ever sees her, he will only know her to be mine but I have no intent upon my daughter being near that brute in her lifetime,” he growled. No little baroness but ‘my daughter’. You smiled at Elina and she squeezed your finger.

“I am grateful for all you’ve done for her. I know you didn’t have to--” your eyes strayed beyond the railing as some distant movement flurried beneath the sun. You squinted and leaned on the arm of your chair as you tried to see the specks along the horizon.

Zemo followed your gaze and stood. He went to the golden scope he kept on the balcony and put his eye to it as he adjusted the sights. He tilted it and stood stalk straight as if he’d been struck. The scope bobbled and he steadied it.

“Get her to your rooms,” he said, “lock the door and don’t make a sound.”

“What? What is it?”

“They are early,” he hit his open hand with a fist, “the letter… it could not be. The king must’ve assumed and sent the party prematurely.” He went to Elina and lifted her. He kissed her cheek and waved you up to your feet, “go on, take her. Keep her quiet as you can. I will house them on a lower floor but they cannot suspect you, understood?”

“How do you--”

“The banner, it is all I can make out,” he said as he grabbed your cane and rushed you back through his cool chambers, “you will lock the door and I will have Ulrich keep watch over the corridor.”

“You didn’t see who it was?” you asked as he opened the door and thrust you out into the hallway.

“You will know when I know,” he assured, “keep your candles unlit and draw the curtains.”

“My lord--”

“I did not plan for this,” he said as he marched you down the hall. You tried not to stumble as he still had your cane and you only had him to keep you from falling, “my lady, I do fear you will not make it to the Creek as we planned.”

He stopped at your door and you hugged Elina as you leaned against the wall. She was entirely untroubled by the sudden upheaval, ever a happy baby. “My cane,” you pointed to his hand as he gripped the silver topper, “please?”

“Oh, I-- Yes,” he handed it to you then reached to open your door, “keep that close…” he said, “just in case.”

“We’ll be as quiet as we can,” you assured him as you held Elina against your hip and limped with your can into the dim chamber.

“I will have Tess secret up some food before their arrival but you do not come out for anyone but me. I will knock,” he tapped a pattern on the door, “like so.”

“Yes, my lord,” you squeezed Elina as the nerves stormed inside of you.

He sighed and gripped the door as he leaned on it, “I only have a few hours to hide the evidence of you and all we’ve done to see you off. Even so, they will not suspect anything unless they are fed crumbs, yes?”

“I understand, my lord,” you stiffened and forced back the panic, “we will see what comes and do as we must,” you swayed Elina as she began to fuss, “for her.”

“For her,” he repeated, “now I must go.”

He closed the door and you set Elina down on the rug with the mouse Tess had sewn for her. You went to the door and twisted the latch into place. You turned back to watch your daughter as she tossed the toy and giggled. She pushed herself up to her feet, more certain everytime she stood. The time was passing much too quick.

🏰

You tried to distract yourself by playing with Elina and keeping her quiet. You worried however, the few times she made noise, that you would blow it all. When Tess brought the food, it was easier as your daughter grew hungry and restless. Once she had a proper meal in her, she was ready to lay down. She dozed beside you on the bed as you listened to the activity below.

First, you heard the horses through the window and the rattling carts and carriages. The voices were too distant to discern above a muffle and you weren’t so foolish as to peek out, even from so high up. You calmed yourself by watching Elina sleep but you knew you would not rest that night.

The sun sunk further behind the clouds and the evening approached with a dullness which forewarned of storms. You flinched at every noise, even floors below, and waited and waited and waited.

You had faith in Zemo, he was a great pretender. It was that very quality which kept you wary of him for so long.

When Elina stirred again, you quieted her cries with your tit but she wasn’t taking to your nipple as eagerly as before. It calmed her for a while but she was soon awake again. You let her explore the chamber but not far from you and kept her away from the clacking wooden blocks gifted her by the baron.

And then the knock came as the sky blackened and grey clouds rumbled above. The rhythm drew you to the latch and Zemo slipped through the door. He was quick to lock it again as you ambled without your cane, afraid to tap the floor too hard with it. Elina greeted him with a shrill cry but it was blanketed by the bluster of the rising chaos in the heavens.

“The storm will frighten her but it should also help hide her,” Zemo said plaintively, “I hope.”

“They are here and settled?” you asked.

“Yes, so they are,” he confirmed as he picked up Elina, “They are too concerned with themselves to worry about any dead women hidden above.”

He sat in the armchair as the girl played with his beard as she liked to do. He smiled and let her, poking out his tongue until she did the same. He bounced her on his lap and she gibbered noisily.

“They are floors down, you should be safe to exist but if she cries, you will have to be quick to quiet her,” he girded.

“Anyone we know?” you asked as you sat on the foot of the bed and rubbed your hip.

He was silent and kept his attention on Elina. He raised his hand and let her bend his fingers to her will. She grabbed onto his ring and twisted it around his knuckle.

“My lord, is there--”

“Yes,” he huffed at last. He kissed the child’s forehead and set her down to crawl across the carpet, though she didn’t go far before she was distracted by her stuffed mouse.

“Who is it?” you asked as you folded your hands.

He rubbed his forehead then pushed his head back, “it isn’t him,” he assured, “if they were callous enough to send him or he was fool enough to come, well, we wouldn’t be having this placid conversation.”

“Who?” you asked again.

“His dog, Lord Rogers,” Zemo spat, “I don’t know which is worse. The man was watching Melinda as a wolf would watch a deer. I don’t even know the girl has flowered yet and he would be sniffing at her skirts. Despicable.”

“Rogers?” you breathed and your chest knotted.

A roll of thunder boomed at that very moment and made you gasp. Elina stopped playing and her lip began to quiver. You slid off the bed to your knees and went to her and gathered her up. You cooed and hushed her and she clung to the collar of your dress. You watched her face as the fear retreated and she turned to watch the window flash. The terror turned to curiosity in an instant.

“Ha, look how brave she is,” he snickered.

You nodded, speechless still. Your nose tingled and your eyes burned. You were so overcome at the idea of that man being so close. You recalled that day in the forest, your singular mistake, then the scene in the carriage, and that on the staircase when Zemo himself had kept you from his perversions.

“My lady?” he said, “you look unsettled.”

“Take her,” you murmured then cleared your throat, “please, take Elina.”

He got up and took her from your arms. You pulled yourself up by the bedpost and leaned against it, your grip tightened around the carved wood. Your chest pattered in time with the downpour against the castle walls. You shook as you felt the scar along your face and those that led down beneath your dress. It hadn’t just been Barnes.

“Lady?” Zemo got closer as Elina babbled.

“I… can’t breathe,” you said and turned to fall back onto your rear, the mattress dipping beneath you as your fingers clung to the post, “I can’t…”

‘A bird, a bird, high above the cloud…’ he began to sing as much to Elina as you, a tune in his own tongue, ‘a wing, a wing, flaps without a sound…’ he rocked the girl but kept his eyes on you, ‘an angel, an angel, looking down on me. A blessing, a blessing, cast upon the lea…’

He reached with one hand and drew you up to your feet. He let you lean against him as he embraced you against your daughter and kept swaying in time to his voice and the sudden onslaught of the storm, ‘a lady, a lady, spinning at her wheel. A mother, a mother, her will as strong as steel…”

You clung to his sleeve and buried your face against the thin cotton. He kept singing until Elina was quiet and the rattling of your bones stilled. You were embarrassed at the sudden emotion which overcame you and the dampness on your cheeks. He carefully sat you back down and shushed.

The rain continued but the thunder passed. He moved carefully to lay Elina in her cot and stood as you hid your face behind your hand.

“I’m…” you uttered.

“No, that man. I remember that day,” he sat beside you and gripped his knees, “I know what he would’ve done and I am wise enough to know it was not the first he’d touched you.”

“It was long ago,” you said, “I shouldn’t be so… frail.”

“You are...strong. You must stay strong for her,” he sniffed and touched your elbow, “but you feel it now.”

“Feel what?” you blinked at him.

“The longing… for vengeance?”

You stared into his dark eyes and your chest continued to twist. Your spine went rigid and your jaw clenched. “I do,” you nodded and looked over at your daughter, “I feel it so very deeply.”

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bestruction · 4 years ago

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Getting high with them for the first time

N/A: If you do drugs do it safely

My masterlist

- Eren Jaeger

He's not the type of guy who pressured you to use, let alone say you're immature or coward for it. When you decide to try it, it's genuinely your idea, and who better than your boyfriend to teach?

That's how you end up in his room, with the door and windows lock to make sure the smell doesn't catch his parent's attention. You sat on the carpet while he carefully rolls the joint so that the cigarette holder doesn't fall.

“Tighten your lips like this and take a deep breath through your mouth” He took a short drag before releasing the smoke “But not too long since this is your first time your throat is not used to the smoke”

You nod and accept the cigarette doing as he said. You feel the smoke warm your mouth, watch it hoover before your eyes after blowing and wait for...Nothing. No different sensation, no tingling, literally nothing.

"I don't think it worked"

“It is not like a switch. Wait a minute, babe ”

You talk a little about the day-to-day of the two and then go to play something new that he had bought. After a few games and a few more huffs, you still don't feel any difference or anything. You even try to hold the smoke in your mouth for a longer time, which results in you coughing incessantly and Eren laughing in your face. Hearing him laugh has always been one of your favorite things. The way he bends his body and laughs out loud without shame until he blushes always makes you laugh together with him, like now.

You laugh, laugh until your body asks for air and needs to alternate between laughter and breathing. You feel calm, relax as if you had lifted a weight off your shoulders. You lay on the carpet feeling the softness of the fabric against your skin ... Was it always that soft? So silky? So comfortable? You close your eyes and rub your hand over the texture, and then the smell of Eren's citric perfume invades your nose. When you opened your eyes, jade eyes were watching you closely.

"I think it has taken effect now, huh?" He says stroking your hair. "Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?" He asks, getting on top of you.

"A few times"

“Then I’m going to tell you again: you’re beautiful” he kisses your lips “So damn beautiful” He kisses your chin “Every single part of you” And now your jaw.

You two spent the afternoon making out on the floor and praising each other. Not because you were high, I mean, not only, but because being so sensitive brought it even more evident how much you wanted each other.

- Levi Ackerman

You had a horrible week. It seemed that everything that could go wrong over the course of seven days had made a point of happening even worse than you imagined. When you got home even after taking a long hot shower and lying in bed, you're unable to relax.

"If you keep turning from side to side, I won't sleep either" Murmured Levi.

"I know. Sorry"

"I'm not complaining. Come here" He pulls you to lie on his chest "Better?"

"A little bit"

"Just a little bit?" He smiles softly "You can try what I do when I get like this"

"Do you mean the mushrooms?"

"If you want to"

You two get out of bed and go to the kitchen. He takes a clear plastic bag from the fridge and places it in front of you. Levi is not the type of guy who gets high all the time. It's more like an escape for when his stress is too high, like yours. He already used it when you met him, and even if you didn't, you never saw a problem with it.

"Just it?"

"I can make tea if you prefer"

"Why don't you use weed like everyone else?"

"Too much work. To roll, check for purity. With mushrooms, I just need to buy and chew them ”

"Well, bon appetit"

You two eat the frozen mushrooms. The taste is not so bad, but it is not a good thing and the smell reminds you of something that had been removed from the forest, which makes sense. Levi suggests that you lie down on the sofa in the living room to watch a movie. There was no need to worry about tomorrow as it would be a day off for both of you.

Lying on Levi's lap and watching the TV, the colors start to shine before your eyes. You didn't remember the white wall looking so vivid, or the pixels on the TV seeming to slow down when you focused on a specific point. It was your house, but it didn't look real. You felt inside a peaceful dream, and inside that dream, you fell asleep forgetting about your nightmare week.

- Armin Arlert

It's your idea. It's Mikasa's birthday party, and Connie had taken some ecstasy pills from whoever wants to use them. So you take two, drag your boyfriend to the bathroom and lock the door.

"You don't have to do it with me if you don't want to, Armin"

"I'm curious too," He says, staring at the little pink pills on your hand.

Armin swallows one, and you do the same after him.

Armin swallows one, and you do the same after him. You want the experience to be as safe as possible. Then both sit in the bathtub and wait for the effect while talking. About half an hour later, you notice how dilated are the pupils of the blond in front of you. Your hearing is a little muffled, and you feel happy and light for no apparent reason. A slight tingle comes and goes through your body, like a wave spreading that sensation across your skin.

You go over to Armin and sit on his lap. He smiles at you, and more than ever, you want to kiss him until you're out of breath, and he's not different from you.

Armin takes your hand between his and brings it to his mouth. He spreads small, short kisses on your hand. You focus on the feeling of his lips running over your skin. You are so damn sensitive even his breathing makes you shiver.

As if a magnetic force pulls you both, you two kiss, letting that soft cloud of pleasure envelop you both. When Armin presses you against his body, deepening the kiss and tasting your mouth, you want to break the laws of physics and be able to occupy the same place as him. You want to become one with him.

And the two of you may not be able to do it, but you certainly tried A LOT in that bathroom.

- Jean Kirstein

Jean is handsome, tall, friendly, and intelligent. So when he starts to be invited to every possible party in college, you’re not surprised. You two have been dating since high school, and you don't feel jealous if he goes to parties alone but he always finds a way to convince you to accompany him with some excuse. Like, that it would be a lot more fun if you're next to him.

Today, this is one of those times when he convinces you. It's not that you don't like parties kind of, but a party full of strangers doesn't seem like the most attractive thing to you. Then after dancing and talking to people for a long time, he drags you to one of the rooms in the house to give you a well-deserved break.

"Thank you for coming with me," He said, hugging you from behind after closing the door.

"I'm going to want some compensation for that, Kirstein," You said, sitting down in an armchair that was there.

"How about ... That" Jean takes a bag with two white pills out of his pocket and tosses it towards you.

"What is it?"

"LSD"

"What kind of people have you been involved with?" You joke “If your mom knew what you've been up to, Jeanboo”

"Shut up" He sat next to her "If you want to try, I try"

It wouldn't be his first time getting high, he used to smoke weed with Eren in the basement since high school, but it would be yours. As I said, Jean is smart. You knew he had been wanting to try acid for some time. So of course, he had researched on.

Honestly? You are curious but afraid after so many speeches “don’t do drugs, kids”. Jean would never propose anything that could endanger the two of you, which is exactly why he only suggested it when you were alone, and if you said "no" it would be like it never happened.

"Is it just swallowing?"

"Put it under your tongue and let it dissolve"

You lie down on the floor and take it at the same time. It tastes bitter, but unlike any medicine, you've taken in your life.

It takes some time for it to start taking effect, but when it finally did you know. The sound of loud music, muffled by the walls of the room seems to be inside your head now. The colors tremble in front of you, mixing, moving, becoming more intense. You raise your hand towards the ceiling, and you don't feel like that's your hand. Everything seems surreal. You feel calm but active. It's like being very drunk, but the other way around.

Jean pulls you into his chest, and you can hear his heart pumping blood at full speed, like yours. You feel your throat dry, your body sweat, and your hands get cold.

If I could define that feeling with a word, it would definitely be intense.

You spent the night like that. Watching the furniture move and change shape, lying on the floor and without detaching from each other. At some point, you ended up sleeping, and after having the weirdest dream of your life, you woke up with Jean calling you carefully. The sun had already risen, and the house was silent, indicating that the party was over a long time ago.

"How are you feeling?" He asks, helping you to stand.

“Hungry and hungover”

He mumbles something about also being, and you go out to eat at the nearest cafeteria.

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prettyboyreid · 4 years ago

Text

can you read to me? (III)

(part one) (part two)

Even after a silly fight, the reader can’t seem to go to sleep without Matthew next to her.

College!Matthew Gray Gubler x Reader

Warnings: language, angst

Word Count: 3681

The next few days seemed to drone on and on.

Finals. Lunch. Finals. Studying.

It was an endless cycle that felt like it would never end for you. Thankfully, on Friday, you had a ticket back home for Christmas break, which had just been delayed two days due to the snowy, icy New York weather. The bad part was that it was only Wednesday.

You hadn’t talked to Matthew since Monday. The second time you had seen him in almost a month, and you had fought yet again. You wanted to talk to him again - you could hardly sleep without listening to him talk - but God you didn’t know if you could handle another argument.

You were in the middle of reviewing for your chemistry final (thankfully, the last science class you might ever need to take) when the door to your dorm creaked open slowly and steadily. Your roommate, Mia, peeked her head through the crack in the door, giving you a soft smile once she saw you look up from the laptop.

“Hey,” she said in a gentle voice, stepping fully into the room once you returned the smile. “The end of the semester party is tonight. Do you want to go with me?” she asked you, folding her arms over her chest as she leaned back against the door.

You gave her a simple shrug, closing the laptop as you turned your full attention to her. “I don’t know, I have to study for my final,” you began to explain, letting out a huff of breath at the thought of studying stoichiometry or the periodic table for another second. She frowned, moving to sit on the edge of your bed before resting her hand on your duvet-covered leg.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked, giving you a sympathetic look. It wasn’t too hard for her to figure out that it had something to do with Matthew; he had been in our room practically every day since we started dating freshman year, and now she hadn’t seen him in three weeks. You used to not be able to shut up about him and any of his weird quirks; you had hardly spoken, especially since Monday. She was good at reading people - there was no question about that - but it didn’t take a genius to figure out your heart was slowly breaking during what was supposed to be one of the happiest times of the year.

You sighed heavily, pushing away from your small, cluttered desk and rubbing at your eyes with the heels of your hands. “He, uh… we got into a fight,” you told her, looking down at your lap a bit as she rested a comforting hand on top of yours. “He got pissed at me for hanging out with Jack a couple weeks back, and I got pissed about him hanging out with Lydia, so we hadn’t talked in two weeks. I, uh, couldn’t sleep Sunday night and I went down to his room, and it seemed fine, then when I went to talk to him later…” you chewed on the inside of your cheek, hesitant to talk about one of the people that irked you the worst in the world. “... Lydia was in his room, and he told me she tried to kiss him when we weren’t talking,” you told her softly, your voice trailing off a bit as you thought more and more about it.

The past few days, you pushed it to the back of your mind. You didn’t want to think about either of them, the way Lydia made you second-guess every second Matthew went back to his room and went back home for break, and the way Matthew used to make you feel, the same things that used to give you butterflies now making you want to vomit at the first thought of him.

“Shit, I’m… I’m sorry, Y/N,” was all your roommate managed out after a few silent moments. You didn’t think Mia would know much about this sort of thing - she had never been one for relationships, especially ones that lasted as long as yours and Matthew’s. But, to your surprise, she was always able to make you feel better about anything that happened in your relationship. This, as you had suspected, was no different.

“How about we get you out of the dorm tonight. You’re almost done with your finals, and you leave in two days. You could use a little down time,” she coaxed, nudging your shoulder playfully with a wide grin.

The thought was tempting. You didn’t want to spend one of your last winters at New York University wallowing in self-pity; it wasn’t exactly your first choice of past times.

“Fine,” you sighed, leaning back in your chair. “But we have to be back before one; my last final is at ten A.M. tomorrow and I can’t be late for it,” you told her, and her face lit up with a smile.

“Great! That’s perfect. I’ll stay sober so you can let loose a little bit. God knows you deserve it,” she said, winking at you before standing up from her chair. “Wear that red shirt that makes your boobs look good!” she called to you from the doorway, presumably going down the hall to get ready with some of her friends. You laughed softly but nodded, giving her a soft smile as she turned to head out the door.

The second you made your way through the threshold of the fraternity house that hosted the party, a drink was thrusted into your hand. Mia took hers happily, handing it over to you. “You need it more than me,” she grinned, dumping the blue tinted liquid into your solo cup before tossing the empty cup into a nearby garbage can.

You looked around the packed room for a moment, shoving your free hand in the back pocket of your jeans while Mia began talking with the first person that she noticed who came into her peripheral vision. You couldn’t say you were too surprised with this - she was much more social than you were.

You found yourself wandering around the first floor of the house, tapping your fingertips against your leg to the beat of whatever song was blaring through the speakers. The longer you stood meandering through the packed house, however, the more you realized this really was the last place that you wanted to be.

You still sipped from the drink as you made your way up the steps of the house, hoping to find a bit of solitude from the sleazy frat boys and the girls who were only being nice because they were intoxicated. You sat down on the top step of the carpeted staircase, taking a long sip of your drink before you practically felt yourself jumping out of your skin at the sound of a familiar voice.

“Y/N?”

You turned around, probably much quicker than you should have, only to see Matthew towering over you. The bags under his eyes had returned, and he had a cup in his hand that looked much more empty than your own. You stood up a bit and chewed on the inside of your cheek, wondering whether or not the best place to talk was in the middle of a sweaty and loud fraternity house.

“Hey, Matthew,” you said softly, scratching at the back of your neck somewhat anxiously. You didn’t know what you were supposed to say to him - it felt like it was wrong to even be in the same house as him right now.

He looked down into his cup when you spoke to him, as if he was trying to avoid the situation at hand. But you knew Matthew Gubler better than anyone else, and you knew he definitely wanted to fix things right now.

“I-I’m really sorry about everything that happened with Lydia,” he said honestly, though it came out so quickly you were sure you had misheard him at first. You just nodded in response, taking another sip of your drink as you tried to turn your focus to anyone - anything - else that you could see.

You saw him frown a little bit at that, and he looked down to his feet again. You followed his gaze for a brief moment, and fought back the urge to smile when you noticed his mix-matched socks - one of them red with black stripes, the other purple with blue polka dots sprayed all over them.

“I know you are,” you told him after a few silent moments, still keeping your concentration on the ground in front of you. For some reason, now it felt almost too nerve-wracking to even look at him, like you had never known him. Was it a bit dramatic? Maybe, but the Matthew that you knew wouldn’t have acted the way he had the past few weeks.

You didn’t even want to think about it more than you have been the past two nights.

He stayed silent for a few more minutes, dragging his fingertips and nails across the grooves embedded in the plastic solo cup in his hand. He looked to you again when he finally found the words that he needed, running his hand back through his hair. “Do you want to… do you want to go back and talk about it a bit?” he asked softly, swirling his drink around in his cup a bit.

Right now, the last place you wanted to be was where Lydia had been. But at the same time, it was the only place you really wanted to be, like it was the only place you thought you would be okay.

You just nodded after a few moments and set your cup down on the thick wooden banister, shoving your hands into your pockets before walking down the steps, assuming Matthew was hardy two steps behind you.

The walk back to the dorm building was almost eerily quiet. The only sound you could hear, or probably just register, was the loud crunching of the freshly fallen snow beneath yours and Matthew’s feet. You didn’t really need to look back to him to make sure he was following you, you just knew he was.

You flashed your school ID card over the scanner before walking into the building, heading up towards the elevator and pressing the button to go up. Once you stepped into the elevator cart, everything seemed to get even quieter. You could swear you could hear your heart beating in your chest, the cart moving much slower than usual.

Floor one.

Floor two.

Floor three.

Floor four.

Floor five.

With a short ding, the large metal doors finally peeled apart, and you let out a heavy sigh. The ride up felt like a chore, and you could practically feel yourself getting claustrophobic trying not to look or speak to Matthew.

You led him down to the end of the hall, opposite of his dorm, and pulled your keys out of your pocket. You felt his eyes on you - not in a weird way, though it gave you butterflies when that was the last thing you wanted to feel at that moment.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open, hanging your keys up on a hook beside your door and flicking on the lights. It looked much more empty than it usually did, given you and your roommate were mostly packed up to go home for a month. You had duffel bags and suitcases scattered around the room, along with a few grocery bags so none of your snacks would expire while you were gone.

After a few moments of silence, you turned back to Matthew with your arms folded across your chest. “What? What did you have to say?” you asked him, your words coming off much more harsher than you really intended them to be.

You watched a twitch of a frown flash across his lips before his lips pressed into a flat line, sitting down on Mia’s bed, across from where you were standing at the moment. He looked like he was mulling over every single possible word he could say to you in his head, but he didn’t know which was best. He looked up at you after a few moments, wring his hands out in his lap as he took a deep intake of breath.

“I’m really sorry.”

Your nose twitched a bit as you listened to him, letting out a heavy breath through your nose. You had heard him say he was sorry before, why was this time supposed to be any different?

“Sorry?” you asked with a bit of a scoff. “You’re sorry that you kissed another girl while you thought we were still together?”

“I didn’t kiss her first!” he defended himself, running his hands down his dark blue jeans as he shook his head a bit. “I don’t know what else you want me to say about it, I am sorry. I didn’t want to kiss her,” he told you, the words rolling off of his tongue as if each syllable took a weight off his shoulders.

You huffed out again and kicked off your shoes, shoving them under your bed as you listened to him. “Why would you invite her over if she kissed you, then?” you asked, sitting down on your bed and folding your hands together in your lap. You weren’t sure whether or not you really wanted the answer to that question, but you looked to him expectantly and waited for his excuse for your question.

As you expected, he was silent for a few moments. Much longer than you would’ve liked, in fact. But eventually, he quietly spoke up with the same answer you had heard before. “I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t,” you frowned, looking over at your desk where you still had a picture of the two of you framed in the far corner of it.

“I’m sorry, okay? It was stupid. I shouldn’t have even talked to her after that. I shouldn’t have let her into my room and I should’ve just let her be after she kissed me. I don’t know what else I can do to make this better,” he told you, running his hands back through his hair and tugging a bit on the ends of it.

You looked down at your socks as you listened to him, trying to shake the thought of everything that had happened. You didn’t want to forgive him, and you really shouldn’t, but you knew he pushed her off.

But he also let her in afterwards.

“I’m sorry. She asked how everything was going with you, and I wanted to tell her what was happening since we were going to lunch, and she just… she kind of made her way in, I guess?” he tried to explain, letting his hands do some of the talking as he tried to clear the situation.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, checking the time on your alarm clock before sighing, going over to one of your duffel bags and pulling out a pair of sweatpants. You changed out of your jeans and into the sweats quickly, pulling your hair up into a loose ponytail before pulling the comforter on your bed back and looking over to him. “Come on,” you said softly, nodding towards the bed.

He furrowed his eyebrows together as he watched her, but still slowly stood up and made his way over to her. “You… you’re not mad?” he asked, kicking off his Converse shoes before carefully climbing into the small bed.

“I don’t know what I am right now,” you confessed, getting in the bed next to him. “But I haven’t slept well in over two weeks, and I know you haven’t either, and I’d rather get one good sleep before I go home than spend the night arguing,” you told him, flicking off the light next to your bed before resting your head on his chest.

He nodded softly, sinking down a bit so he was lying flat on his back so the two of you could be more comfortable. “What do you want me to read to you?” he asked quietly, looking up at the ceiling as he waited silently and patiently for your response.

“Can you read Annabel Lee again?” you asked quietly, letting your eyes adjust slowly to the darkness around you as he cleared his throat a bit, knowing he was focusing on the ceiling so he wouldn’t forget anything.

“It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me…”

You let your eyes slowly close as his voice slowly lulled you to sleep, worried you wouldn’t even be able to stay up for the rest of the poem.

“I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

“And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.”

His long, slender fingers eventually found their way to your hair, pushing some loose, fallen strands from your face as he spoke. The words rolled easily off his tongue, like he didn’t even have to think about them.

“The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

“But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;”

His voice was much more rigid and stoic than the last time he recited the poem to you, like he was reading from the pages the first time he read it to you. Like he was detached, like he almost… didn’t care as much as he used to.

“For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea.”

You looked carefully up at him, making sure not to disturb him, before frowning a bit. His face was focused on your ceiling, almost looking bored, like he had better places to be. You sighed and rested your head on his chest, slowly but surely falling into another slumber.

By the time you woke up a few hours later, you couldn’t help but frown at the lack of warmth surrounding you. You rubbed tiredly at your eyes as you looked around the empty room, seeing your roommate had already cleared out for break.

You looked to your side, seeing an empty bed that differed from what you saw last night. You sat up and leaned back against your pillows, before you caught sight of a loose piece of paper on your desk.

You reached over and grabbed it, smiling sadly when you saw the scrawled, curly handwriting that spelled out your name on the front of it. You carefully unfolded it, your smile quirking down into a glower when you saw what the letter wrote.

“Y/N,

I love you. I really, really do.

But now isn’t a great time for either of us.

I can’t put you through what you’ve gone through the past two weeks over all of Christmas break. I don’t want to make you have to deal with all of that again.

I’m sorry I left without saying anything, but my flight was early and I couldn’t miss it; my mom wanted me home tonight for a big family dinner.

If you want to talk over break, you know my number, and you can call me whenever. I’ll always answer.

I love you, my Annabel Lee.

(In the totally not necrophiliac way)

Matthew <3”

You couldn’t help but frown as you read it, but shoved the flimsy paper into your back pocket. You didn’t want to think about what he had written, or even think about him at all. You just packed up the last of your clothes that you would need for the month, pushing down the pictures of you and Matthew, or just Matthew, whenever you came across them in your room.

When you finally packed up, you grabbed all of your bags and brought them out into the hall, setting them down on the ground as you locked up. As you did, however, you couldn’t help but frown as you found yourself looking down towards the other end of the hall, hoping to see Matthew coming out of his dorm all of a sudden, laughing and being happy like he usually was.

But instead, you were met with a dark hall, piles of snow mounted on the windows darkening the hallways. It almost made you feel sick, the way the light seemed to drain out of your entire life the second Matthew was gone.

As you walked down the hall to the elevators, you silently wished that you could go back and change everything, make it all right.

But you knew it was too late.

------

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Addition - JJ Maybank

Request: hello! could you do a jj x reader where the pogues are all hanging out or something and then it starts raining and they have to go home but jj has nowhere to go since he got in a fight with his dad so he asks reader if he can stay over, and then they share memories and it's all laughs when suddenly he gets serious and starts tearing up because his father doesn't love him and the reader is there to comfort him and he confesses?love your writing 💞

A/N: Hopefully this is what you wanted?

Outer Banks Masterlist

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Mom?” You called, pushing the door open as you walked into the house. JJ followed after you, passing you to pull off his boots and drop his bag while you took your key out and shut the door. You had all been on the beach together when it had started to drizzle. The plan was to wait it out but when the winds picked up you all decided it was best to just head home. Pope had to get back to his house and Kiara was headed to the Wreck leaving you, JJ, and John B. When John B mentioned heading to meet up with Sarah JJ had looked suddenly hesitant.

You’d invited him back to yours when you picked up on his obvious aversion to going home. While you didn’t know all the details of his home life, JJ had crashed at your house more than once when he was fighting with his dad.

“Mom?” You called one more time before toeing off your own shoes and heading further into the little house you shared with your mom. “Guess she’s at work.”

“She won’t mind if I’m here?” JJ asked, following you into the kitchen and taking the beer from your mom’s boyfriend’s stash.

“You’ve been here before JJ, it’s not like I just picked up a random stranger and invited him back to my house.” You replied.

“I just don’t want to cause a problem.” He replied.

“It’s no problem. Now, do you wanna watch TV? Buddy accidentally signed up for the Disney+ plan when he was trying to buy ESPN so we now have Disney, Hulu and Netflix.” You said, holding out the remote to him.

“Living the life,” JJ joked. He sat down beside you on the couch and took the remote from you. Though you hadn’t mentioned it, and didn’t necessarily plan to, JJ had been off all day. He’d shown up to the beach looking upset and when you asked him about it he’d just withdrawn. It was at John B’s advice to ‘just let it go for now’ that you moved on to your second tactic. Pretend everything was normal and okay. And so far it was working. But something still felt off and you knew you should be more patient, or whatever John B wanted you to be, but you couldn’t help feeling that noisy part of you want to get down to the bottom of the issue.

“Definitely.”

JJ switched on Parks & Rec, having watched it enough times with you that the calming affects you claimed it had over you were starting to manifest in him too. He instantly felt calmer at the sound of Leslie’s chatter. As you stretched out on the sofa, JJ’s eyes wandered the wall behind the TV. He’d been to your house plenty of times but he’d somehow never noticed the family pictures hanging there. One of you on the beach, one of you as a toddler sitting in someone’s lap.

“Who is that?” JJ asked, pointing to the portrait on the wall.

“Who?” You looked to the way, following his outstretched hand and trying to determine which photo he was looking at. You got up, crossing the carpeted floor to lay your pointer finger on the glass of the picture, “this one?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s my dad. I was like, three when he died. I don’t really remember him but my mom really loves this picture. It’s from while he was in the hospital.” You replied, “I hung this one up of me and Buddy at Christmas last year cause I thought he deserved a place on the wall.”

JJ nodded, chewing at his bottom lip as he stared at the pictures, looking between you and your dad and you and Buddy. He blinked his eyes shut a few times and in the span of that repetitive motion you where suddenly kneeling on the couch beside him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you pulled him into a hug. It was then he realized that he was crying.

You were shushing him, running your fingers through his hair and telling him it was okay, whatever it was. He knew it was stupid to cry over, you didn’t even know your dad and Buddy had only been around for two years.

“It’s okay, what’s the matter?” You asked, voice soft and tender.

JJ shook his head, there was no way he could even form the words to explain to you that he had never even seen a picture of his father holding him let alone had a memory of it. The only memories of his dad were bad ones.

“Is it your dad?”

He nodded against your arms.

“I’m sorry. Do you wanna stay for a while? The pull-outs more comfortable than John B’s.”

JJ laughed in spite of himself, instantly reminded of the awful springs on John B’s pull-out. If you didn’t lay in just the right spot it was hopeless to try and sleep at all. The laughing helped to ease him out of crying, his breathing fall back to normal though you didn’t totally let go of him, still holding onto him as he relaxed.

“You shouldn’t be put out.”

“I’m not. I’m offering you the space Jay, you’re welcome to stay here. For however long you want to.” You replied, “my mom’ll say the same thing.”

“I just can’t take it anymore.” He confessed, leaning into you. “And I see you and your mom and Kie and her parents and I want that but I know it’s impossible and I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, JJ.”

“Why do I get a shitty dad who doesn’t love me then? Everyone else has people who care about them and I get that fucking loser.”

“I don’t know...but you do have people who care about you, Kie, Pope, John B...I love you. I’ll build you an addition on my house and never let you leave if that’ll convince you.”

“The couch is fine.” He replied, closing his eyes as you brushed your fingers through his hair.

“Well good, then I get you sheets.”

“Just...in a minute?” He asked, holding you a little closer when you moved to get up.

“Of course.”

“Also...I love you too.” He said, kissing your collar because it was the closest part of you he could reach.

“Enough to build me an addition?”

“Definitely.”

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shleepys · 4 years ago

Text

AYYYY I hope you all were safe over the holidays and continue to stay safe over these next few months! Right now my state is dealing with record high covid numbers and a bunch of snow, might be different for you guys but hey, even though we're kicking off the start of a new year we still have to be aware of what's been going on and continue to push through it. But yeah!

We can finally reveal for the @harringroveholidayexchange, so I hope you enjoy what I made for the amazing @catharrington! I don't know how everyone else is formatting theirs if they did fic and art but I'm going to put both here! 💕

- - - - -

Overlooked

prompt! - I’ve always loved the differences in the two boys while growing up, I imagine Steve having huge Christmas parties with champagne flutes and the works and Billy being invited and happy to spend time with Steve, he really is!, it’s just a lot he isn’t used to. All up to author interpretations: make as fluffy or angsty as you want ;)

summary! - Steve forgets they were supposed to hang out elsewhere while his parents threw their annual Christmas party and agrees to stay.

Luckily, Billy doesn’t mind!

The only problem is, they don’t get to hang out... and Billy starts to feel overlooked.

- - - - -

Billy couldn’t be more out of place.

Parties were his thing, don’t get that wrong. He could get drunk, smoke, fuck, do whatever and if Steve was with him, only then it was infinitely better.

But this wasn’t a party. Not the party he knew. It felt more like a corporate gathering or a birthday for someone he didn’t know and he only ended up on the list because his boyfriend’s involved. Which wouldn’t be a problem if everyone around him wasn’t two to three times his age and he actually got to hang out with said boyfriend.

But it’s fine. It’s been fine so far.

Crystal champagne flutes and ugly holiday sweaters just aren’t necessarily Billy’s forte. He can’t fathom how much Steve’s parents spent on this party alone and can only bet that it cost more than the monthly payment for the house on Cherry Road. Not that he has much resentment towards what Steve’s parents do with their money but it just seems… unnecessary.

He takes a sip from his flute, rustling the jacket resting on his lap before leaning further into the sofa to try and wait this out despite already being here for what seems like hours. Billy gradually looks up again and stares into the other room where he can see Steve and his parents.

He can’t see their faces, but he can see Steve’s. Their backs are turned to him - Steve’s off to the side - they’re merely silhouettes so he can’t tell if his parents are just being gregarious or snobby. Then again, neither of them really talk about their parents so Billy has no clue.

Billy watches as a couple leaves, the discomfort continues to overrule Steve’s face as suddenly another appears and the cycle starts over again for what seems about the hundredth time. He huffs, kicking the shagged carpet beneath him before lowly cursing himself out. Should he have reminded him what they were going to do tonight? Or would Steve have rather stayed here?

He can’t tell whether or not Steve’s just over some of the pretentious attitudes and comments he’s overheard in the past hour or that he’s trying to break the chain and get over to him so they can do something together. He could always get drunk and wait for Steve to get done, he knows where the brunette keeps a bottle of scotch that he stole from his dad’s liquor cabinet in the office.

He blinks, lips sucked in to form a seal as he thinks. “Should I go home?” Billy whispers, soft and hurt. There’s not really a point in staying and maybe he can see if Jonathan has anything new to smoke. Deep, contemplative breath.

Billy stands up and discards his glass on the side table next to him before throwing on his coat and grabbing his scarf. Everything from then to going outside flashed by like a blur, nothing of importance really stricken in his mind other than colored sweaters and the sheen of champagne glasses hitting his eye. His breath is almost heavy as he opens the door and a wave of ice rushes over him. It bites at his nose, almost makes him want to itch it but he ventures out regardless. Billy slowly closes it behind him.

Billy sighed softly, eyes falling to the ground. It’s been snowing all day. Coming and going with the wind and dusting every road, house, and tree with freckles of white. Granted, everything was coated before it got too dark and hopefully, the roads weren’t iced over for any of the poor drunks inside. Steam rolled from his mouth as he exhaled before taking a deep breath. Billy threw the end of his scarf over his shoulder and looked out where his car should be, a somber smile passing his lips but twisting into a frown. Steve told him he could park where his family parks.

His feet felt like they were superglued to the deck, that, or like boulders had been tied to the ends of them. Billy bit his bottom lip and fidgeted with his coat pockets, sort of kicked the snow from under him.

He swallowed hastily, a lump bouncing in his throat as he looked out again. Couldn’t pinpoint the emotion to anything else but a pang of burning guilt. Maybe he should have just gone up to him, shouldn’t have made a big deal out of feeling left out, taken him away from his parents so they could go upstairs or leave.

Someone jerked open the sliding doors. Light poured from the inside, Billy twisted around to identify the backlit figure expecting a drunk only to find a breathless, seemingly worried Steve. Billy wanted to furrow his brows and walk off into the snow where he knew damn well Steve wouldn’t go into with house shoes on, but for some reason, he stayed put. Watches as Steve shuts the door behind him and rubs at his arm.

“What are you doing out here?”

Billy doesn’t respond.

Steve seems to catch on, and their eyes lock.

There have been times when Billy goes outside during a party to catch his breath, maybe sneak around back to talk to Steve about one thing or another, maybe drunkenly make out and hope no one was watching or Tommy had their back. But they hadn’t been to a party for a long while, not since September. And, Billy doesn’t just bring his car keys with him to ‘catch his breath’.

Billy broke contact with a sharp ‘huh’. “Did you forget about me?"

“What? No! Why would you think that?” Steve shuddered, pulling his hands into his sleeves.

Billy looked back up with dagger-like eyes, “Because it seems an awfully lot like you did.”

“Well, I didn’t.”

He could bite back, the very opportunity hanging in front of his nose. But he didn’t. Instead, a familiar quiver caught his lip. Lingering feelings creeping up and forcing his hand to itch at his pocket. Billy shook his head, eyes falling to the ground.

Steve frowned, aware of the events to follow. He’s known the other long enough to recognize the outline of Marlboros in any pocket. Deep down wishes there was some other habit Billy bid in, but that’s a matter of discussion that needs to be saved for later.

Eventually, the pack came out. Steve chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched Billy, his lighter flaring until the end emitted a pale red before shakily tucking it away. He shook his head again slow and somber like.

“I’m sorry.” Billy started, hands moving along with his words. “And it’s not that I don’t want to be here. You’re just,” he sighed, “busy.”

Steve’s lips sealed tightly at the comment. He saw the discomfort present in the other’s sentences, could feel guilt churn in the pit of his stomach. Thing is Steve wasn’t the slightest bit spiteful, he was pissed at himself for not taking action to check up on the other. Not considering bringing another friend with them in case something like this happened. He’s upset because they were supposed to do something together tonight besides this but he forgot and agreed to be here. Steve watched him take a drag, self-spite running through his veins.

The corners of Steve’s eyes pinched, his throat tightening as he spoke, “No, I’m sorry! This sucks, this whole thing has sucked. I stressed myself out over decorating for the party and was so excited to hang out! I didn’t mean to agree but I forgot! And mom and dad keep introducing me to people. I- I wanted to spend time with you! I didn’t want to be here!” Steve took a step forward before shaky inhale. “This is my fault, this shouldn’t have happened.”

The next few seconds were the two boys staring at one another, each waiting on the other to say something. Billy was at a loss. Steve had a million thoughts streaming through his mind, hoping that the blonde wouldn’t just turn away and leave.

Eventually, Billy glanced at the door, peering through to check if the blinds were shut as a faint smile appeared. Billy’s lips pressed against Steve’s before he could protest, his hand meeting to cup the brunette’s jaw and brush over the apple of his cheek with his calloused thumb and cigarette in the other. Steve’s tears wetted his cheeks, he didn’t mind it all that much. The shock melted into comfort as Steve cherished the kiss, pouted when Billy slowly pulled away from him. The slight tinge of champagne lingering on the other’s lips, the heat of their bodies giving them a little warmth.

Billy craned his head - albeit Steve was taller - until their foreheads met.

“Don’t apologize. I get it.” Billy whispered. Steve gave a small, dismissive ‘huff’.

“My boyfriend should come before a stupid party. I should have told them otherwise.”

Billy shook his head. “The party’s nice. You beat yourself up too much over this kind of stuff, I forget things too. Remember the creek?”

Steve giggled, lips twisting into a smile. “In July when you were supposed to meet me there and didn’t show up? And I stayed there all night?”

Billy frowned as he thought into it, the bitter call at one in the morning that turned into a week of not talking to one another. It ended nicely though - if ‘nice’ was drunk car sex in the middle of the woods. There wasn’t much of an apology there but hey, they’re still trying to work on things and figure out how exactly relationships work because they aren’t exactly a sixty-year-old couple with forty years of experience behind the boy’s backs.

“I still owe you for that. Sorry.” His eyes fell to the deck as he pulled his head away, bumping his cigarette against his finger and watching the ash fall.

After Steve noticed the shift he got quiet, frowned, and eyes followed Billy’s to the wooden boards below. “Don’t apologize,” Steve echoed with a light smile. Gently Steve grabbed Billy’s scarf and drew him in for a slower, deeper kiss.

People forget things, that’s human nature. And sometimes they can be a bit dumb about it too. But this was going to be the boy’s first Christmas, granted it wasn’t exactly Christmas yet, but it was important to them both. Spending time with a significant other on a holiday was amazing even if they can’t shout it out to everyone they know.

These moments always have a sort of energy to them. When the boys share a wordless amalgamation of self-deprecating thoughts after ‘messing something up’ and those little habits come out to bite to express those thoughts oh so clearly. It’s a ball of weird energy that shines in self-hate that the two have been working to eliminate and hey, they’ve gotten pretty far! But, it’s still there. Smiling in the corner of the boy’s minds. Ready to strike at any moment. It’s just a lot smaller now.

Because again, don’t have the forty years and that’s perfectly valid even if the two don’t seem to realize it.

Billy leaned into the sweet kiss before Steve drew back. Billy chuckled and wrapped his arms around the other as he tucked his face into Steve’s neck. Steve shook again, this time cuddling up to the other and ravishing in the heat and short breaths coming out of them both.

“I wanna go inside,” Steve mumbled, rubbing at the other’s back.

Billy laughed and slowly pulled away to look at Steve. “Too cold?”

“I’m in a sweater and sweatpants,” Steve pulled on his scarf again and toyed with the frayed ends. The grin Billy responded with brimmed with bliss, his hand roaming up and held the other’s with a firm hold,

“I’ll meet you inside.”

Steve had ventured back into the party while Billy snuffed his cigarette into the deck, eventually, the two found one another next to the food Steve’s parents had catered instead of cooking this year. Only thing that wasn’t in foil baking trays was the Christmas cookies that Billy had been dying to try ever since Steve brought them up at the beginning of December. Drinks clattered in group cheers from the surrounding areas, the smooth music now bearable. He never expected that a party this foreign to him would turn out for the better. Never thought he would feel… like a part of it? The crystal flutes, richies, and overall appeal still don’t rock with him, but with Steve, he has someone there for him. And that’s all Billy could ever ask for.

Thankfully, he didn’t feel like he was going to projectile vomit champagne anymore… the nausea sort of faded after Steve kissed him outside. Billy turned to Steve, noting the rosy shade still dancing on the apples of his cheeks from outside.

“Your sweater isn’t that ugly,” Billy emphasized, chewing on an ornament-shaped cookie.

Steve shook his head with an amused sigh, sweeping the crumbs from his shirt. “This isn’t that kind of party, if it was I would’ve had you help me make one.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t think Karen from Fiance got the memo.” Billy pointed into the crowd at the woman in question. Her sweater took the cake for one of the ugliest, tensile hangs from her torso, lights strung all over, buttons on the brink of falling off. “You think she beats her kids over the head with a bible?” Steve rolled his eyes. Billy smirked at the little glare he’d received. “You should have pulled out your grandmother’s cat vests.”

Steve gagged, eyes wide and ridden with disgust. “Keep talking and you’re going to make me throw up. I never want to see those again.” Billy snorts and Steve shoves him with a laugh, “It’s not funny!”

“But you’re laughing!” Billy remarks and lightly bumps him back returning the bubbling laughter.

A woman seems to overhear their laughs and spins around with the biggest and brightest grin Billy’s ever seen. It kind of startled him. Doesn’t know who she is, doesn’t care to know until he recognizes the cat vest and how familiar those brown, round doe eyes are. She runs up to them, curls bouncing on her shoulders as she approaches with a drink in hand. Mrs. Harrington gasped, grabbing onto Steve’s sweater with eyes darting between both boys, “Is this Billy?”

Steve smirks and rolls his eyes again. “Hi, Mom. I’m back Mom.” She lightly wacks him in the arm. “Yes! This is Billy.”

Her eyes lit up, dazzled with happiness as she stuck her attention on the blonde as he snuck another cookie in his mouth. “Steve talks about you all the time!”

“What? No, I don’t!” Steve’s eyebrows knit together as he tried to defend himself but deep down knew there was no hope, especially after Billy gave him that smug but appreciative little look as his mom went on her story-telling rampage.

Billy laughs, almost in disbelief, “Really?”

“He talks about all of his friends, really. But, oh! When it comes to you he goes on and on and on, he really thinks you’re something.” Billy watched as the tips of Steve’s ears tinted themselves red and smirked. An interesting conversation for later. “I’m so upset that I haven’t been able to meet you until now! You two are always out or asleep by the time I get home.”

Billy’s brows quirked in an expression of sarcasm. “Well, thank you for not waking me up at two in the morning to introduce yourself.”

Mrs. Harrington chuckled, shaking her head before putting her hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m going to go get another drink. Oh, and Billy!” She paused and made eye contact, “If you want to come over for Christmas, you’re more than welcome too! Just tell Steve so I know.”

Billy’s brows flew upwards, blush rising and Steve picking it up instantly. She waved goodbye before walking around them and going off on her journey into another room. The boys stared again, each waiting on the other to say something until the brunette spoke up.

"She likes you," Steve muttered, ears still red as ever.

"You talk about me to her? I think that's cute."

He huffed. Had to stop himself from leaning against the other to hide his face. "Mom likes knowing what friends are up to."

Billy loosely smiled, slowly bumping into Steve with his hip before getting a light bump back. “You look a lot like her.” Steve shook his head.

“Not as much as my dad,” Steve turned to see if he was there and frowned when he didn’t see the other but slowly faded into a smile. “I don’t know where he is, he would have loved to meet you.”

The boys got quiet again.

Billy cleared his throat, his head tilted down as if to duck away to hide his blush and the movement didn’t go unnoticed by Steve. “About coming over for Christmas-”

“I want you to.” He softly tugged on his jacket to get his attention. Eventually, Billy made eye contact, grinned with a chuckle following behind. Christmas with Steve? His caring boyfriend, twenty million cookies, a few possible presents, and… some loving parents?

Billy couldn’t be happier.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #st #strangerthings #harringroveart #fic #art #harringroveholidayexchange #happy holidays #happy new year!

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untaemedqueen · 5 years ago

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The Bustier

Min Yoongi x Wife!Reader

Request: Hey boo, this is not an specific impregnation idea per say but it’s close? Have you listened to Christina Aguilera‘s “Sex for breakfast” ? Imagine the reader seducing sensually and doing whatever she can to stop her man (Bts member) from leaving the house and go to work. Would be very smutty and romantic but also fun.

WordCount: 3.6k

Genre: Marriage!AU, Smut, Fluff

Warnings, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Deep Throating, Fellatio, Cum Swallowing, Impreg Kink (Super Slight), Unprotected Sex, Degradation (Cum Slut)

A/N: Sorry it took me so long! I hope you like it!

The morning chill blows through the window, the white drapes whipping against the wall stirring you from your sleep. You rub your eyes lazily before yawning, your hand going to the spot next to you that is normally cold and empty by now. You reach over feeling your husband’s bare skin and you look over wide eyed. He was still here! He didn’t leave to the studio yet! You squeal happily throwing yourself on to your sleeping husband. Yoongi groans loudly before putting his hands over his face.

“Hi baby girl.” He whispers, his voice laced with sleep as he turns on to his back and wrapping his arms around you. You giggle happily placing your head on his milky white chest. Yoongi snorts peaking one eye open before kissing the top of your head.

“I have to go to the studio soon. Let me sleep some more, hmm?” You begin to frown, he was never here anymore. With the new album dropping soon you haven’t been able to spend any time with him, apart from dropping off doshirak to his studio every so often. You missed him, the way he smelt, the way he holds you. Everything.

“You suck Min Yoongi.” You lift your head to look at his silver hair and small closed eyes.

“I know, but you get a carefree life thanks to me sucking. So I’ll continue to provide for my family.” He yawns loudly before throwing your pillow over his face.

“Let me sleep Princess.” You hear muffled through the pillow and you roll your eyes before getting up. Unless, he can’t make it to the studio today...

You tie your hair up cooking Yoongi breakfast, the always ever present bulgogi meat sitting on the black marble counter along with eggs ready to be fried. You lean against the counter puffing out your cheeks as the pan heats up. You could make him breakfast but that wouldn’t keep him home. You were lucky your daughter Mikyung was at Yoongi’s mothers house in Daegu for the week, so you could think of all the right reasons for him to stay. You put your hand under your chin, your wedding ring tapping on the black marble before groaning, nothing in actuality could make Yoongi stay home. He could fuck you and you would still beg him to stay but he would always tell you about a track that needed to get finished. You shut the pan off before putting your hands over your face. All you want is one day, just one. And, for Yoongi without Mikyung around for a bit, it was easier to get stuff done without having to do his daddy duties all the time. You step around the large kitchen counter with a frown before folding your arms.

“What will make you stay, Yoongs?” You whisper to yourself deep in thought.

You step into the walk in closet pressing your hand against the door frame as you look at the small plastic box underneath Yoongi’s rack of shoes. You pull out the box before blowing on it, scattering dust around the room. You cough loudly, you haven’t opened this box in years. Probably since you got married this box has been untouched. You wipe the dust on your fingertips on the carpet before sticking out your tongue as dust coats your tongue.

“Fuck, ew.” You whine before pulling out the leather bustier and garters you wore the night you both made your daughter. It was a special piece of material that held a lot of promise. Yoongi even rapped about it in a song although the reference went over everyone's head but yours. See, he always does small romantic gestures like that, you should do one too. Never mind the fact that you just want a day to yourself. You stand up with a giddy smile before rushing to the bathroom.

Yoongi sits up hands scratching at his hair as he looks around your empty bedroom.

“She’s mad.” He whispers to himself before smacking at his cheeks to wake up.

“Y/N?!” Yoongi calls loudly before clearing his throat.

“Kitchen!” He takes in a deep breath, his nose smelling the bulgogi meat. “Coming!” He calls quickly before standing up and heading into the en suite bathroom. Yoongi stares at himself in the mirror as he squirts toothpaste on to his toothbrush as his phone begins to ring. He yawns loudly before grabbing his phone.

Video Call from Mom.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow before answering, his three year old daughter rolling around with her grandmothers phone in her hands. Yoongi sets down his tooth brush and shutting off the water before sitting on the edge of the bath tub with a gummy smile on his face.

“Our Mikyung-ie.” He folds his arm underneath his extended one.

“Daddy!” She squeals happily making Yoongi give off a silent chuckle.

“What are you up to, my girl?” Yoongi leans his head against the cool peach tiles of the bathroom wall as Mikyung sits up.

“I go poopy all by myself!” Yoongi snorts, “You did?! I’m so proud of you, baby.”

He loved his daughter like nothing else in this world. She was the light of his life, always bringing out his gummy smile in everything she did. His silent laughs with closed eyes constantly around with his daughter present.

“Daddy?!” Yoongi hums in amusement as he stares at his girl. A smile playing on his lips as she holds her Shooky stuffed animal in her hand.

“Mommy happy?” Yoongi furrows his eyebrows opening his mouth confused.

“Yeah, of course Mommy is happy, baby.”

“Mommy cry.” Yoongi leans forward worried as he hears your voice call for him in the kitchen.

“She did? When, baby? When did Mommy cry?” Yoongi was worried, you never tell him about your emotions anymore. Yoongi feels that it’s a way to cope with your loneliness without him all of the time. Or, maybe it’s because you feel bad, you feel burdened by your emotions and you wouldn’t want to burden Yoongi since he does so much for you.

“When, Mikyoung-ah?” Yoongi calls to his daughter who has gotten distracted with her toes.

“All time.” She whispers to the phone putting her face against the screen.

“Mikyoung-ie! Let’s eat breakfast!” Yoongi’s mother calls through the phone. All time? What?

“Go eat baby. I love you.”

“I love you Daddy!” He hums in agreement before ending the video call.

“Yoongs?!” You call again loudly. Yoongi puts his phone to his forehead. All the time?

“Coming, baby girl!”

You set Yoongi’s breakfast on the table as he emerges from the hallway in a bucket hat and a black hoodie. He wraps his arms around you before kissing you gently, you smile into the kiss and Yoongi holds you tightly to him.

“I love you.” He whispers closing his eyes.

“I love you too.” You say confused.

“Breakfast smells delicious.” He pulls out the breakfast nook chair before sitting down and looking over your black silk robe.

“This is pretty.” He fingers at the hem of the silk robe, rubbing the fabric in between his fingers. It wasn’t strange that he was complimenting you, but the face he had plastered on was weird. He seemed guilty? Seemingly miserable within himself.

“What’s up with you?” Yoongi looks up at you before giving you a tight lipped smile.

“Nothing, I just love you so much and you deserve to be told.” You hum in agreement before sitting next to him, the robe slipping off your thigh showing your black lace garter. Yoongi scoops up a spoonful of rice before chewing it. Your thigh shielded by the edge of the table.

“When is our Mikyung coming home? Today, right?” You nod with a smile as you scooch your chair over to him. Yoongi goes to sip his water before seeing your thigh and choking violently. He coughs loudly as he looks at the garter before wiping his face with his hoodie sleeve.

“Is that what I think it is?” Yoongi sits back in his chair pulling the robe off of your other thigh. He bites at his bottom lip before looking back up at you.

This was something unprecedented, you never try to pry him away from work like this, but you were begging for just one day. And, after that phone call with his daughter Yoongi has realized how much he has neglected you. Yoongi scrapes his chair back before patting his lap and taking off his bucket hat running his fingers through his hair.

“Why’re you dressed so sexy so early in the morning, hmm?” He wraps his hand around your small wrist pulling you on to him. You smile down at him before straddling his lap, your hands reaching up and caressing his handsome face.

“Because I love you.” He hums in agreement leaning up and kissing you, his hand snaking up to the back of your neck and rubbing at your neck muscles. Yoongi hooks his finger into the garter before snapping it back into your skin.

“You trying to tell me something?” He asks with a gummy smile as he pulls away from you.

“I’m trying to tell you that I miss you.” Yoongi sighs before standing up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“I know baby. I miss you too.”

Yoongi lays you down gently on your bed, his tongue licking his lips as he kneels in between your legs.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around and that you think you have to go to these lengths just to make me stay.” You swallow thickly knowing you’ve been caught.

“It’s alright... just go ahead to the studio. I’ll bring you lunch later.” Yoongi rubs his hands over his face before bending down and kissing you.

“I’m not going anywhere today.” You look up at him surprised.

“Really?!” He gives you a lazy smile crawling on top of you, his legs straddling you as he rubs your sides.

“How can I go when my wife looks so beautiful?” You smile widely as he bends down his lips making contact with the shell of your ear, “You look so gorgeous.”

Your heart fluttering at his compliment as he undoes the belt of your silk robe. He pulls the fabric away only to take a large inhale through his nose. His eyes beginning to get low with lust.

“Fuck, I haven’t seen this in a long time.” His hands rubbing over the corset with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth.

“I thought you would like it.” Yoongi hums in agreement as he begins to kiss down your skin. His small hot kisses fueling your fire as you spread your legs underneath him.

“I love you.” His words holding so much love that you can’t help but giggle.

“I love you too.” Yoongi pulls at the garters, they snap back digging into your skin and you can’t help but whimper out for him.

“Fuck.” He curses before pulling at the bustier.

“Should I fuck you in this or out? Last time I fucked you in it we had a baby.” He chuckles as you shrug.

“Whatever happens, happens.” He hums in agreement before bending down and encasing your lips with his. His tongue licking at your bottom lip asking for entry. Your tongues begin to fight for dominance as his slender fingers lazily make their way down your body. His simple touches sending jolts of lighting throughout your body.

“Sexy little thing.” He whispers against you as he runs his fingers over your clothed pussy. You let out a small moan as he digs his fingers in between your lips letting his fingers and your thong rub at your clit.

“Yoongi.” You wantonly moan and he can’t help but curse again before taking off his hoodie.

“Shit, baby. You’re so sexy.” This was always something you loved, the amount of compliments he gives you makes you feel like you’re the most gorgeous thing in the world. And, Yoongi would completely agree. Your hands running over his milky white chest as he pulls down his black multi-zipper sweatpants. His cock already standing to attention as he crawls back in between your legs and hooking his fingers into the sides of your thong. He peels back the underwear at a snails pace, his tongue darting out and licking his lips as your drenched cunt meets his eyes.

He groans lowly, “Such a pretty little pussy you have, baby.” You bite your bottom lip as you feel yourself leaking out on to the sheets below you. Even after so many years with Yoongi it was always like the first time. The excitement you feel, how lust just enraptures you. It was all so perfect. Yoongi spreads your legs wider for him as he bows down. His tongue running a flat lick over you makes a surprised moan leave your lips. His tongue lapping at your clit as his index finger begins to tease your entrance.

“Yoongi, please!” You beg, he chuckles against you his hot breath making your eyes roll back as he continues his assault on your clit. Your thighs beginning to twitch as he enters a finger into you.

“So fucking tight.” He whispers against you before suckling at your sensitive bud, your body thrashing around underneath him as he slowly fucks you with his finger. A moan leaving his throat at how your pussy juices coat his finger so nicely. The invisible band around you was tightening, your orgasm building up slowly for your husband.

“Fuck, Yoongi, harder!” You whine and he pulls up from you.

“Be good and enjoy it.”

“I want to cum!” His chin and cheeks coated in your arousal as he smiles.

“You will, my girl, you will.” He adds another finger as he abides by your wishes, he fucks you quickly with his fingers. Your eyes rolling back as you moan for him.

“Such a tight pussy for me, so nice and wet. Fucking dripping on to our sheets. You love my fingers, don’t you baby? Love when I make you cum with just two fingers.” You whimper out, pulling at the bed sheets.

“Yes! I love it when you fuck me, anyway you do it!” Yoongi smirks, “My little cum slut.”

The band was so tight in your stomach, your thighs crushed against Yoongi’s head as you squeeze him.

“Fuck, you taste so good baby.” His fingers curling upwards as you moan loudly.

“Yoongs, I’m- fuck!” Your orgasm rolling over you as your ears begin to ring. White noise filling your head as you become boneless underneath him.

“Good girl.” He wipes his face on your thigh before sitting upright. A gummy smile appearing on his face as he strokes languidly at his rock hard erection. You bite your lip as you sit up.

“Want a taste?” He asks gathering pre-cum on to his thumb, he holds his finger up to you and you eagerly begin to suck on it. Tasting the musky, salty fluid.

“Oh shit.” He whispers watching you suck him so earnestly. Your tongue swirling around the rough pad of his thumb has Yoongi’s eyes rolling back with a groan.

“Suck my cock, baby.” He caresses your cheek and you lean forward ready to please your man. Your mouth opening as Yoongi gathers your hair into his fist, he shoves your head down and you can’t help but choke on him.

“Fuck!” Your tongue licking up his base before hollowing your cheeks.

“Just like that, baby. Fuck, yes.” Curses flowing from his mouth freely as you whimper out against him. He pushes your head down harder, moaning at the feeling of your throat trying to reject his cock. Your tongue swirls around the head before bobbing on him quickly.

“You fuck my cock with your mouth so well. Jesus Christ.” You were always the best for him, the way you could make him feel so good all the time. You grip at his toned thighs as your eyes begin to blur with tears.

“Such a pretty mouth for fucking my cock into.” You take a few swallows, trying to deep throat him.

“Y/N.” Yoongi’s moans were like gold, you could never get tired of hearing how his voice yearns for you. His cock begins to throb in your throat. Spit and pre-cum sputtering out of your mouth and down his balls as his head lulls back. His fist getting tighter as he snaps his hips thrusting into your mouth quicker, you would definitely feel the jaw pain later.

“Goddamn, I’m going to cum in this pretty little mouth.” His thumbs caressing your scalp as he let go of your hair. His moans get louder and you massage his balls goading him to orgasm for you.

“Yes, fuck. Baby, I’m cumming! Fuck!” He yelps out before a loud groan emits through your bedroom, his cock stuttering in your mouth as ropes of cum stream down your throat. He gasps quietly closing his eyes as he clutches on to your head. You lick at some of his cum on your lip as he pulls himself out of your mouth.

“Christ.” He mumbles watching you with lust blown eyes, he shoves you down roughly, the corset digging into your skin as he works in a flurry. He spits on your pussy before rubbing the head of his cock into your clit. A small moan leaving you as he glides the head over your folds.

“Your pussy looks so pretty on my cock.” He teases you gently, eyeing how nicely your pussy lips look pushed open by his cock.

“Fuck me.” You whisper pulling at his arms, he bites his bottom lip before entering the head into you slowly. The heat of your cunt radiating into to him as he shivers.

“You always feel so good, baby girl.” He inches inside of you slowly, his mouth opening as you put your head back. Your back bowing off of the bed.

“Maybe, I’ll fuck another baby into you this time too, would you like that?” You whimper out as he buries himself to the hilt. Yoongi puts himself on top of you, his chest smacking into yours as he begins to thrust into you slowly. His teeth taking your earlobe in between them as he runs his tongue over your skin. You wrap your legs around his waist as he begins to bulldoze into you. Loud choked moans leaving your lips as you whine out for him. His thick cock stretching you deliciously as he groans.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good. Shit!” A sheen layer of sweat gathering over the both of you as he fucks into you. His elbows finding purchase next to your head as he continues to love on you.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.” His bangs slick to his forehead as he fucks you. His eyes shutting in pleasure as he whimpers out your name.

“I love it when you fuck me with your big cock!” Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowing together as you reach down and begin to rub your clit.

“Good girl, rub your clit for me. I can’t wait to feel you cum on my cock.” His cock pre-cumming inside you as he pulls your knees to your chest, moaning loudly at how your pussy tightens.

“Yoongi!” Your hands gripping harder at the bed sheets, your knuckles turning white as you feel the band beginning to tighten again. The squelching of your pussy like music to Yoongi’s ears as he begins to roll his hips.

“You’re going to make me cum so quickly baby, this pussy feels too good.” You let out a sob of pleasure as you pull back the hood of your clit. With every circle you make, his bare pubic bone smacks into your overly-sensitive nub. Your legs beginning to quiver again at the euphoric feeling. Your pussy starts to throb, alerting him of your oncoming orgasm.

“Yes, fuck yes, cum on my cock baby. Milk my cock dry.” Yoongi’s mouth going dry at the feeling. You can only whimper out for him, words becoming unintelligible. You feel your orgasm coming, speeding down your body. He pulls your knees up higher, the head of his cock caressing the rough patch within you. And, like you’ve been hit by a truck your orgasm overtakes you. Tears of pleasure leaving your eyes as you sob loudly putting your head back.

“Y/N!” Yoongi moans loudly feeling how tight your pussy clenches for him.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum. Fuck. Fuck!” He curses putting his head down against your clothed bust as he fucks you up the bed. Every thrust hitting your cervix folds as you grips at your knees roughly. His mouth opening as he cums, his cum shooting into you as he groans quietly. You hug him tightly to you and he presses all of his weight into you as he sighs loudly.

“My God!” He yells out making you giggle, he looks up at you before giving you his famous smile.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around.” Yoongi whispers as you cuddle naked together, you hum in disagreement.

“You’re right, you take care of us and your passion means a lot to you. I understand.” Yoongi wants to say that your daughter told him that you cry so often but he can’t bring himself to do it.

“I’ll be around more, I’ll make you smile more often.” You turn your head to him and give him a small peck.

“I’ll just wear the bustier more.” Yoongi wiggles his eyebrows at you before kissing your cheek. “That works too.”

#min yoongi #request #smut #yoongi #bts smut #bts imagine #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts series #bts story

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nitannichionne · 4 years ago

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If He Was YOUR Fan Chapter 6: The Set Up (Henry Cavill x Reader Fan Fic)

“Tell me something.” Henry says softly as you put a small platter of appetizers next to him. He licks his lips and the simple gesture makes you press your thighs together for reasons you don’t want to think about.

You turn toward Henry as you sit in a seat next to him to watch TV. “Hmmm?”

“Why are you so…far away?” he asks. “We’ve sat on the floor, rode a motorcycle,” he sighs. “I don’t bite…well, not exactly. Why so shy tonight?”

You smile shyly. After touring the Poet’s Corner at Westminster Abbey and riding high with him over London lip locked with your leg wrapped around him, you are feeling a little exposed, a little vulnerable. He is seeing more from you than anyone has in some time. You let your feelings really show, and though it feels good every time with him, there is such a thing as spinning out of control and falling, things happening too fast and getting hurt. You don’t want that, no matter how much your body needs it, no matter how drawn you are to him. Your heart has been broken too many times.

He calls your name softly, and though there is a tender demand in his voice, there is also a plea in in his eyes, looking bluer than usual because of what he chose to wear. Once again, you respond to him, the plea and demand to come closer.

You straddle him and you feel him between your legs. You suppress a small cry of need and settle there but exhale heavily. You know you’re playing a dangerous game, but like a kitten who knows no better, curiosity gets the best of you. You take an appetizer and feed it to him, hoping to distract him by his hunger, but his eyes convey one of a different sort even as he devours it and chews slowly, not losing eye contact with you. He swallows and licks his lips, feeding you one, and then pours wine into a glass. He sips and offers you a drink after you swallow your food. As soon as you swallow the wine, he frames your face with his hands and brings you down for a kiss, lapping the insides of your mouth with deep and slow thrusts that make you moan softly. You suck his tongue as he turns his head to keep drinking from you, and you nibble his lips, lightly biting the lower one.

His eyes open slightly and he rakes your back. The sensation is delicious and you arch to him. The cross over top proves no barrier to him and he nuzzles your chest, planting wet kisses in the valley between your breasts before pushing your top open. Again, the next layer of fabric is nothing; he kisses your neck and pulls down the straps and the top just enough to bare your breasts, and rakes your back again.

“Henry!” you moan, your body helplessly grinding on his as his hands run over your backside and his fingers expertly find your slit through your skort and panties. His fingers need only push aside the fabric and he would have you. He strokes as his mouth captures one of your breasts in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the tip before gently taking into his mouth for a wet kiss that he repeats over and over.

You move in time with his hand shamelessly, aching with need as your head falls back so you can breathe. You pant and hear your own high pitched moans as he finally slips a finger into your panties and rubs your slit, still not entering you. You gasp, wishing he would come inside. This is too far, but you don’t know how to stop now.

“Shhh it’s alright, breathe, darling,” he whispers into you the hollow of your neck as he starts a rhythm.

You whimper, both your movements becoming more urgent as he grasps your hips and you grind together. You hold his shoulders as you shudder, your body pulsing with need as you fall forward and try to catch your breath. He is hard between your legs. You are both in need, yet somewhat fulfilled. You rake his hair, your head bowed next to his as you try to compose yourself.

“I want you to know I know,” he pants softly in your ear, his voice a growl. “I could have had you tonight. I could have taken you to my bed and that would be that. But the more I know you, the more I want your complete surrender, not a seduction.”

“Henry—”

He pulls you back slightly, and looks into your eyes as he whispers your name. “I believe good things come to those who wait, darling. That’s why I am a patient man, and I think you are a good thing.”

You hear your name called, jolting you from your memory.

“I don’t know what to do!” Stella says worriedly wringing her hands. “I got a job in catering, but I don’t have a place to stay yet! Everyone is in twos, and I don’t know what to do!”

“Maybe we can have her stay with us,” I suggest. “Maybe we can fit a third in with us.”

Hannah nods readily. “We’re at our rental now. Let’s see what we can do.”

The rental is set up like a dorm on one floor with two beds in each room and the other floor had single bedrooms that were so small one could barely turn around in it. You talk to the senior assistant, Michaela, and she basically says it’s up to us, but we may regret it.

You step outside to get air and look at the house and frown. Does that look like an attic or a…?

You race inside to Michaela. “Is the space over the garage taken?”

“Space? What space?”

You walk her outside and point. “That one.”

Michaela makes a call to the renter and finds out it is not furnished, but the bathroom and kitchen are equipped to work and the carpeting is down.

“If I furnish and decorate, may I have it?”

Michaela thinks you are crazy because that is way more than what you have agreed to pay, but gets an okay from everyone. Stella gives you her payment, and she takes your space. On a mission you set off to find what you need in a nearby town.

A guy named Archer and his brother Stuart from scenery decide to help you and Stella get the things you need, even set up the bed and couch for you. You only have two days before everyone had to be on set for work. Hannah opts out to help, but its understandable.

“You can tell me,” Stella whispers as she helps you hang the curtain to separate your bedroom area from your living room-kitchen. “You do know Henry Cavill, don’t you?”

You laugh, and say, “I went to a panel about his latest movie. I wish I knew the guy better!” That was no lie. You feel yourself giving in to him and you don’t know what to do. There was so much to consider since your last date one thing being if you know him well enough to really trust him.

“Well, if you did, this is going to be one interesting movie shoot.”

You frown. “Why do you say that?”

“Henry’s ex, Gracie Gray, is playing a role in this production,” Stella lets out a low whistle. “They were pretty hot and heavy at one time, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Your heart drops. Henry himself said he prefers women in the business; in fact, he seemed to have a habit of picking women based on that and proximity. The idea of being his flavor of the film tastes like bile to you and makes your stomach twist. You busy yourself with unpacking your things.

Stella turns you around. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” You say, but you feel a lump in your throat.

You finally finish the small living space aka hook up the wifi and TV. Happy with the setup you log into Netflix. “Yes!”

“How much money you got left?” Stella asks as you both recline on the couch.

“Not much,” you sigh. “I’m gonna need this money to stay afloat.”

“It—” Stella looks around. “You did a great job—”

“We did a great job—”

“You measured the space, imagine possibilities and set it up in your mind,” Stella shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes you do it with food,” you argue softly. “Hannah does it with art.” Among other things, you amend silently. “I did it when I worked as an executive assistant in human resources for a company.” You chuckle at the memory. “Moving offices is a nasty business.”

“But I’d say this is the best space now,” Stella smiles. “And you have a private entrance! Maybe you can invite Archer up here sometime.”

Your eyes widen and you slap Stella playfully. “Archer? Come on, Stella—”

“He likes you,” Stella gives you a sideways shake. “It was so obvious.” She is quiet for a moment. “Unless you’re still thinking about the guy on the motorcycle-the look-alike?”

“He is a bit hard to forget,” you sigh, feeling bad for lying to Stella and promising yourself someday you’d come clean. “And time tells everything right?”

Stella crosses her legs on the table and closes her eyes to relax. “True enough. Let’s chill for a minute and then finish unpacking the kitchen, okay?”

You stare straight ahead. “Sounds like a plan.”

Things just got really simple or really complicated.

______________

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downwiththeficness · 4 years ago

Text

In the Bond-Chapter 16

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~6,100

Warnings: Smut

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah woke unwillingly. Rolling over, she scrubbed at her eyes, still swollen from crying herself to sleep. Brasa had held her closely as they drove away from a home Lilah wasn’t sure she would ever return to. She’d managed to hold her tears for about ten minutes, and then her will had given out.

In her state, Lilah could be forgiven for how long it had taken her to notice that they weren’t on course for Brasa’s bar. When she’d asked where they were going, Brasa had simply said, ‘home’.

‘Home’ was quite literally carved into solid stone. Accessible through an elevator hidden cleverly in a low rock formation. It opened into a completely dark corridor. Lilah let Brasa lead her by the hand into the darkness, looking back only once to catch Javier reaching down to close the doors to the elevator carriage, shutting out the only light.

Blind, Lilah’s step had faltered. Brasa took it in stride, wrapping an arm around her and acting as her guide. They reached a door, which opened to… ‘home’. It was, she supposed, average in size, though she hadn’t paid much attention to the architecture. Brasa had cosetted her in yet another deliciously comfortable bed and she had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening putting off Brasa’s questions regarding her well being.

To be fair, Lilah hadn’t known how she felt the night previous. She still wasn’t sure how she felt. Her emotions wavered between indignation and deep depression, both of which made her head ache. She pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Padding quietly to the bathroom by the illumination of a small nightlight shining near the door of the bedroom, Lilah went through the motions of cleaning herself up. No stranger to a rough night, she was unsurprised to find shadows beneath her eyes and her hair in disarray. A quick look in the vanity drawers found a comb that the used to gingerly comb out the tangles.

After washing her face, Lilah made her way to the bedroom door, peering out into the hallway. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she tip toed towards the living room. In the few moments that she’d spent standing at the threshold, waiting for Brasa to shrug off his coat and hang it up, she’d noticed how sumptuous the furniture was—an overstuffed couch, soft carpets, dark and heavy woods. Everything was all rich fabric and soft textures. And yet, it was strangely bare. No pictures, no art, no...personality.

As she made her way deeper into the house, Lilah came upon Brasa sitting in the plush chair, a book in his hand. Head bent over the pages, he looked...so completely normal that she had to blink a few times to make sure that it was, indeed, him.

Sensing her approach, he looked up, eyes assessing, “How did you sleep?”

Lilah watched as he closed the book, setting it aside, She watched as he stood and approached. She watched as he became more concerned as she failed to respond. He grasped her above the elbows, head dipping to catch her eyes. Lilah couldn’t hold the gaze, and felt ridiculous for it.

“You should eat,” he pronounced, turning her and leading her gently through a set of double doors to a small, intimate dining room.

He bade her to sit, moving past the room and through to the kitchen. Lilah leaned her elbows on the table, resting her head in her palms as she waited. Drowsy from too much sleep, she blinked lazily into the middle distance, until movement in her periphery caught her attention.

Brasa approached, a plate in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He placed both before her, nudging the plate when she hesitated. Lilah looked down at what he made, a small chuckle sounding from low in her throat. Eggs in a basket. Toads in a hole. He’d remembered.

Charmed, and more than a little grateful, Lilah picked up the fork and cut into the edge of the toast, nicking the egg yolk. As she chewed, she glanced over at Brasa, who was watching her. Though his posture was relaxed, there was a sharp light in his eyes that signaled he was studying her carefully.

“He will change his mind,” he said casually, gesturing smoothly with one hand.

Lilah paused, swallowing, “What?”

Brasa smiled, “Seth. He will change his mind.”

Eyes falling to her plate, Lilah busied herself with cutting into the second piece of toast, “You know that?”

“I do,” he answered.

“How?”

He shrugged, “I’m old.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

With a smile, he countered, “Old enough to know how men like Seth think. He’ll be mad for a while, but if he cares for you—and I think he does—he will come around.”

Lilah sighed and leaned back into her chair, “I’m so mad at him.”

Brasa nodded, saying nothing, waiting for her to continue. She looked to the ceiling, trying to gather her thoughts, to sort her emotions in a way that made any kind of sense.

“I know he’s struggling to accept…” she gestured broadly, “All of this. I mean, I’m still trying to accept it. But...the way he treated me, like a…”

Lilah stopped, ‘kid sister’ sitting like lead on her tongue. Her eyes closed as the implications of her own thoughts sunk in. He’d treated her just like a kid sister, an annoying kid sister that didn’t know what they were doing. And, somehow, that made her feel worse.

Sensing her unease, Brasa leaned forward and touched her hand, brushing his fingers over the back, “As I said. He will get over it.”

Casting him a sorrowful look, she murmured, “I hope so. We’re friends, you know?”

“I know.”

“And,” she continued, turning her hand over to thread her fingers through his, “I still want to be friends.”

He nodded, giving her hand a squeeze before picking up her plate and taking it to the kitchen. Lilah fiddled with her glass in a kind of soft resignation. This would have to play out however it was going to. Pushing the issue wasn’t going to make things better. Neither was dwelling on it. Still, she gave herself permission to feel sad for a while. That seemed fair.

Brasa returned and held out a hand to her, which she took. They walked amiably back to the living room where he sat her down on the couch and handed her the remote.

“I have some work to do,” he explained, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of her head, “It’ll take a few hours. Then, we’ll decide what to do for the evening.”

Lilah spent maybe half an hour scrolling through the many streaming services that were on the top menu of the TV, amazed that Brasa had gotten so fully up to speed on modern entertainment. Furtively, she glanced through some of his watch history, smiling when she noted that he’d made it all the way through every season of House and, oddly enough, had recently watched The Princess Bride.

Eventually, she settled on restarting Drunk History from the beginning. Prior to signing on with the Gecko brothers, she’d watched a few episodes a month in her down time. There were always TVs on in the bar, so she’d never thought to purchase one for her room. Now seemed a good time for some comfort.

Brasa had been right when he’d said that his work would take a few hours. Lunchtime came and went, Lilah making her way to the kitchen and finding that he’d stocked it with some basic staples. They were going to have to take a shopping trip, though. The man had eggs, bread, a bag of various fruits, and a jug of milk. Her guess was that he’d googled basic foodstuffs and had run with it.

After eating her meal perched over the sink, Lilah washed her dishes and returned to the couch to start the next season. That was where Brasa found her, half asleep, stretched out over the cushions. He smiled as he approached, reaching down to lift her legs and sit, draping her feet over his lap.

“Done for the day?”

He shrugged, “In one manner of speaking.”

“What does that mean?”

Another shrug, “Benny’s following has grown again. We think he’s turning a few humans a week.”

Her brows came together, “What does that mean for you?”

Brasa took a few seconds to think about it, his fingers drawing little circles over the sensitive skin of her ankle, “It means that he is likely going to resort to violence, and soon.”

Lilah felt her muscles tense, a kind of latent anxiety rolling along her body, “How do we prevent it?”

Looking at her, his expression was soft, but sure, “I don’t think we can.”

She sat up, disbelieving, “Why not?”

Turning a little bit so that he could prop his arm up on the back of the couch, Brasa explained, “Men like this…there is only one thing that checks them, and I promised you that I would look at other options. He wants blood, will be satisfied by nothing else.”

Lilah pulled her legs up and under her body, folding her hands in her lap, “We can talk to him, right?”

“We tried that.”

“For like two seconds,” she countered, her anxiety melting into frustration, “There has to be a way. Nobody has to die for this.”

Head tilting to the side, he said, “When has, essentially, a coup, ever not resulted in bloodshed?”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “This isn’t a coup. Its...an administrative change.”

Brasa shot her a look that very clearly said that she was bullshitting, “In their eyes, I have taken away their way of life. You know this.”

She shook her head, “You’re giving them a better life. A life where they’re not hiding in the dark, picking off humans, and running from local hunters.”

“Some don’t see it that way.”

There was a kind of finality in his tone, a tension borne of having had this argument over and over with different people. Lilah sighed and wriggled deeper into the couch, feeling not a little bit petulant.

Brasa reached over and took her hand in a loose grasp, “This is not the first time I’ve brokered peace—did so just recently with the most stubborn people I’ve ever met, if you’ll recall.”

She laughed, “Yeah. There were a couple times I almost threw something at one or all of you during those meetings.”

One side of his mouth quirked up, “I could tell. You do not hide your feelings well.”

“Um, excuse me, I think I do,” Lilah shot back.

The little quirk in his mouth widened to a smile, “You do not. At least, not from me.”

Again, she rolled her eyes, “That’s because of the bond.”

He hummed in the negative, “You have a very expressive face.”

Lilah scoffed, “I have an excellent poker face.”

This earn her a low chuckle, “You do not.”

“I was able to keep the bond a secret for months.”

Brasa leaned into her space, his hand running up the length of her arm to settle behind her neck, “Richie knew within seconds of seeing you the night we met. And Seth’s powers of perception are mediocre, at best.”

Lilah was not too proud to admit that she was a little dazed at how close they were, coffee and caramel filling her senses. He’d given her a lot of space over the last twenty four hours—she wasn’t even sure where he’d slept. She found herself yearning to crawl right into his lap and stay there for the rest of the night, and some part of her figured that he’d probably let her.

But, while he’d been working, she’d been thinking. And, the first order of business was to get some food that would make more than one kind of meal in the house.

“We need to go shopping,” she said, smiling when he tilted his head to the side in confusion, “Groceries. We need them—well, I need them.”

Brasa gave a curt nod, rising and pulling her to standing, “Do you want to go now?”

Knowing that she looked pretty fucking bad, Lilah shook her head, “Let me get cleaned up. I’ll be out in about forty minutes.”

She took her time with getting ready, making sure that she washed every inch of skin, shampooed and conditioned her hair, covered her dark circles, and put on some fresh, clean clothes. As she dug into her bag for socks, her phone and the case for her comm fell out. She touched them gingerly, noting that there was no service and that the comm was redundant, given that she didn’t have anyone to connect with. She tucked both away.

In the end, it took a little longer than forty minutes, but Brasa didn’t seem to mind. When she emerged from the bedroom, he was lounging on the couch, CSPAN playing on the TV.

Lilah’s eyes narrowed, “Why are you watching this?”

His eyes scanned her lazily, taking her in, “You didn’t think my entire business was in medical supplies, did you?”

She shrugged, “We never discussed it in detail.”

Reaching for the remote, he turned off the TV and stood, “I like a diverse portfolio. Keeps things stable across the board.”

Lilah knew nothing about stocks, and even less about portfolios, “I’m sure that’s a good strategy.”

“It can be, though some people prefer a more adventurous technique.”

She moved towards the door, looking over her shoulder at him, “But, not you.”

He followed, “No.”

That tracked. Every decision Lilah had ever seen him make was calculated with brutal efficiency. Brasa did nothing by halves, nor did he make impulsive decisions. It was one of the things that Lilah liked most about him.

The hall was dark as it had been the day before, a chilling lack of light—except for a small triangle in the distance, the illumination so dull that it almost didn’t look real. As before, Brasa took her hand, leading her. As before, she went willingly. Unlike before, Lilah was alert enough to ask questions.

“What is this place?”

Brasa’s voice sounded next to her, “I’ve already told you.”

“Yeah, but what is it?”

They neared the light, and it was cast in shadow for a moment as Brasa pressed the button, “I needed a more secure place, a place to allow myself true rest. A place where I could keep you safe, when the time came.”

Leaning into his side, she asked, “Because of Benny?”

Though she couldn’t see him, Lilah felt him shake his head, “I have lived a life of nearly total violence. That comes with a cost.”

And, here they were, back to the same conversation they’d had at least twice before. Her safety. Her weakness. Her humanity—though, not her mortality.

“You think I’m safer underground?”

The doors opened and Brasa ushered her inside, “Only Javier and I—and now, you—know about it. It is secret.”

She smirked at him, “I’ve always wanted a secret hideout.”

He returned her mirth, “I live to serve.”

They held hands all the way to the surface and up until Brasa helped her up and into an SUV that was hidden in what basically amounted to a hollowed out rock. Lilah had to hand it to them. If she hadn’t known that this was here, she would have never guessed. There was literally no indication that the formations were anything but rocks, once all the entrances were closed.

She looked up a local store and they headed out, guided by the navigation in the dash. As they drove, Lilah drew up a list on her phone, having memorized her standard grocery order long ago. To it, she added a few items that she might not otherwise pick up, telling herself that she deserved a treat or two after the emotional fallout of her confrontation with Seth. She also decided that she was going to pick up a few bottles of wine.

Lilah had to admit that she never once thought about what it would be like to see Brasa in such a mundane setting. She doubted that he did his own shopping, what with Javier taking care of most menial tasks. Now, she was watching him step through the automatic doors of a local supermarket, his head turning to glance at her for direction.

It was surreal. Truly surreal. Lilah had the insane urge to laugh as she looked from him to the milling crowd that parted around him. She caught a few curious glances from them, even further amused that Brasa seemed to take no notice.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Lilah took his arm and led him to the shopping carts, pulling one from the long line and taking a moment to study the layout of the store. Tall shelves were lined one after another, stocked full with wares. Veering to the left, she headed for the bins of fresh fruits and vegetables.

Lilah was intimately aware of the way Brasa observed her going from bin to bin, picking out one or two and setting in the cart. He gave her space, but paid attention to how she chose her wares. Lilah mostly ignored him, focusing on trying to get enough to last her at least a few days.

As they passed the dairy aisle, Brasa finally said, “Things have moved...so quickly in the last few hundred years.”

She was leaning down to pick up an extra carton of eggs when he spoke, her head turning awkwardly to look at him, “What does that mean?”

He pushed his hands into his pockets, giving a shrug, “Advancements that would have taken a millennia several thousand years ago now happen in a hundred.”

Putting the eggs in the cart, Lilah thought about it for a moment, moving slowly towards the canned food, “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am,” he pronounced, smug.

She scoffed, pulling cans off the shelf to stock the small pantry behind the kitchen. Her voice, when it came, was tinged with a tease, “I’m an ancient vampire, I’m so smart, and I’ve seen everything.”

His laugh was soft, but genuinely amused, his chin dipping down towards his chest in a movement that was nothing short of demure. If Lilah were just some anonymous person in this store, if she were looking at him for the first time in that moment, her breath would have caught—as it was now—and she would have scurried away feeling so completely embarrassed at finding a total stranger so endearing.

As it was, she wasn’t anonymous. He very much knew her, a thought that would have been no less than frightening a year ago. Lilah felt no such fear now, only warmth that unfurled comfortably in her chest.

Brasa steered her down an aisle, gesturing at a shelf full of Gatorade, “Javier has sent me four texts reminding me that you will need this.”

Mouth open, Lilah stared at him in confusion for several seconds, “I will?”

He nodded, “Javier is adamant that I keep this in stock. He says you prefer the red color.”

Agog, Lilah asked, “How the fuck does he know that?”

Brasa cast her a look that said she should know the answer to that question. Javier might be quiet and unassuming, but he was better than the FBI at finding out the minutiae of people’s lives.

“Okay,” Lilah relented, “He’s right, but I don’t know why you would need to keep it on hand. Its not like I’ll need to constantly replenish my—oh.”

Without another word, Lilah leaned down and picked up two packs, setting them in the cart. She lost her battle to keep the nervous laugh at bay when she glanced at Brasa’s smirking face. He wasn’t even trying to hide the satisfaction in his expression. To give herself something to do other than smile stupidly, she turned her attention to navigating to the check out.

Brasa was quietly helpful in loading the groceries onto the conveyor, and Lilah didn’t miss how he maneuvered around her to pay before she could get her card out of her pocket. Casting him a knowing smile, Lilah moved past him, hands briefly touching his hips so that she could slide out from between the partitions to load the cart.

A few minutes later, she was pushing it out into the warm, humid night, and towards where he’d parked the SUV. A few more minutes, and they were making their way back to what she was going to continually call the ‘secret hideout’. The title brought a small, ‘secret smile’ to her lips.

As they pulled to a stop, that small smile turned into a grin. She looked to Brasa, “You’re about to be witness to an ancient human custom, going back at least a century.”

Head cocked to the side, Brasa looked at her in confusion, “I believe I am aware of most human customs, ancient or otherwise.”

Rolling her eyes, Lilah hopped out of the car and made her away around to the trunk, pushing the button to initiate the automatic open. She’d only picked out enough food to last for the week she promised him when he’d been negotiating her stay. Lilah was not going to think about how she likely would have to extend her stay indefinitely.

Lilah reached down and looped a few bags over her arm, “So it goes like this: No matter how much you buy, you never, ever, take more than one trip to get it in the house.”

Brasa looked at her arm, laden with bags, and back to the rest, his brow rising, “I...was not aware of this custom.”

She fixed him with a serious look, “Its a very important tradition.”

A little crease formed between his brows as he studied the bags they had left. Lilah swallowed the laugh that threatened to break the whole act apart, and hefted a few more onto her free arm. Brasa looked at what she carried, then leaned in and snagged the rest, hoisting them effortlessly in one arm.

She stared at him, chastising herself for forgetting how powerful he really was. She chastised herself further when she stayed right where she was as he reached up, closed the trunk, and tugged one of her arms free of the bags. It wasn’t until she was looking at his back as he opened the door to the elevator that she was able to make her feet move.

As they made the descent, Brasa shifted the bags to one arm and took her hand, turning it over to see how the bags had made little creases in her skin in the short time before he’d taken the load.

“I don’t understand this tradition,” he muttered, thumb rubbing at her palm.

Lilah smirked, “You don’t have to understand it to be a part of it.”

His eyes lifted from where they were studying her skin, “You are right. Some things just are.”

She had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t talking about defeating the grocery bag challenge. The weight behind his gaze made that place in the back of her mind flare up, the bond almost stinging her. Reflexively, her fingers curled, wrapping around his thumb.

There was a clinical ‘ding’ and the doors opened. Adjusting his grip, Brasa led her into the hall and to the door. A few taps, and the door opened. They carried the bags into the kitchen and Lilah took her time figuring out where to put everything.

As she was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a small bag of potatoes, Brasa’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, held up a finger, and stepped from the room. She looked at the place where he’d been for a few seconds before shaking herself to attention. The potatoes could stay on the counter.

It was then that her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten in several hours. With new food to choose from, she found herself a little bit at a loss as to what to make. In his kitchen, bare save for the food and the tools she needed to cook it with, she again longed for comfort. Broccoli cheese soup, it was.

With renewed purpose, Lilah began assembling the ingredients and putting a pot on the burner. She hadn’t made this particular recipe since high school, when she was still living with a family that she hadn’t talked to in years. Her hand on the knife paused as she took that in.

When she was running dangerous jobs for shady people, she had deliberately cut them off in fear for their safety. Now, she knew she could definitely never rekindle that relationship. What would happen in ten years, twenty, fifty, when she didn’t age, when she didn’t die?

Sniffing, she set her mind to cutting the broccoli florets into one inch pieces. There was no need to deepen the emotional anguish she’d experienced this week. She could do that at another time. Just to be safe, she opened a bottle of wine and left it and the glass on the counter to breathe.

As she was preparing to stir in the cheese to thicken the broth, Brasa returned. He leaned against the counter to watch her cook, arms crossed.

“Work?” she questioned lightly.

He gave a nod, “Javier worries.”

She hummed, glancing over her shoulder at him, “And?”

Pushing from the counter, he touched the small of her back. His hand traveled around her waist to rest just below her belly button. Lilah leaned into him, her head tilting to the side so that he could lay his chin on her shoulder. She relaxed into his hold, stirring slowly, in no hurry to move. Eventually, the soup thickened up as it was supposed to, and she reached up to turn the burner off.

Brasa already had a bowl ready for her, a spoon in his other hand. Lilah took it with a grateful nod and ladled a serving for herself. Rather than sit at the dining room table, Lilah hopped up onto the counter and spooned some into her mouth.

“You going to answer my question?”

His eyes dropped, though his mouth quirked in amusement, “He thinks we should be more aggressive with Benny.”

Lilah waved her spoon at him, indicating that he should continue.

“I find myself wondering if I should follow that advice.”

“Why?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping, “His numbers grow along with the recklessness of his actions. He attacked a hotel last night, slaughtered the guests and staff. The police are investigating.”

Swinging one leg, Lilah asked, “You can’t buy them, bribe them to close the investigation?”

“We are working on that. The police chief is...remarkably stubborn about policy. Javier wants to eat him.”

She should not have laughed, but the thought of the prim and dapper Javier ripping the throat out of a police officer did not mesh together. He’d be too worried that he’d get blood on his suit.

When she finished, Lilah slipped down from the counter and rinsed out the bowl, setting it in the sink to clean later, “You want to watch a movie?”

“I could do that.”

“Cool,” she replied, already heading for the living room, grabbing the bottle of wine she’d opened along with the glass, “Where do you keep your extra blankets?”

She picked the softest, fluffiest one of the bunch and threw it over them both as they sat next to each other on the couch. Wine glass in hand, Lilah flicked through the streaming channels, already knowing which selection she was going to make.

His hand on her thigh, Brasa settled deeper into the cushion, letting out a light chuckle as she hit play, “I like this one.”

“Me, too,” she said, shifting so that she could lay her head on his shoulder.

Warm, full, and comfortable, Lilah found herself drifting even as Princess Buttercup argued with the Dread Pirate Roberts. The familiarity of Brasa’s scent wrapped around her and the story on the screen made everything inside her loosen for the first time since she’d left behind an angry Seth—well, that and two glasses of excellent wine.

By the time the credits rolled, Brasa had leaned back into the arm of the couch, pulling Lilah down to lay atop him. Her body pressed against his, Lilah soaked up his unnatural warmth. His arms held her loosely, but his hands were firm on her back and hip.

Lilah pushed up on her hands, looking down at him, “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Of course,” he said, a little too quickly, “Of course.”

She smiled, dropping to an elbow and kissing him. Intending it to be a sort of ‘thank you’, Lilah started to pull away only to feel Brasa cup the back of her neck and hold her in place as he twined his tongue with hers. He warmed beneath her, burning hot, body arching. Lilah pulled her knees up underneath her, balancing on one hand so that she could run the other down the front of his shirt to pull it from where he had it tucked into his slacks.

He lifted his hips when she moved around to the back, his own hands roaming over her jean clad legs, pulling on each so that she sat astride him. And then, in a move she could have never accomplished on her own, he swung his legs over the edge of the couch and stood. Her ankles crossed to anchor her body on his hips, her hands grasping frantically to clasp the back of his neck. Lilah laughed as he kissed her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, all the while moving towards the bedroom.

He laid her carefully on the bed and systematically undressed her. Shoes, socks, jeans, underwear, shirt, bra—everything was peeled off without ceremony, without patience. Lilah was stripped bare before her brain caught up to the fact that this was actually going to happen. And then he was crawling over her, his mouth sealing over hers.

He kissed her like he was starved, as if he might never kiss her again. Deep, unrelenting kisses that left her gasping beneath him. She reached up to to get at the buttons of his shirt, managing to get one or two free before he was moving down her body, nuzzling the skin between her breasts. Thumbs circling her nipples, he drew one into his mouth, releasing it with a wet sound. He licked at her biting down gently, and laving the spot with his tongue.

Shifting a little to the side, Brasa pulled her knee up and around his waist, fingers drifting so that he could run them up the length of her slit. She keened, spine arching up so far that her shoulders lifted off the mattress. Her skin was seared where they touched, sizzling with sensation that only seemed to grow. He massaged her in wide circles, the pad of his forefinger brushing over her opening.

Rubbing his cheek against her, Brasa moved steadily downwards, kissing and sucking and nipping until he rested between her spread thighs. If Lilah had any thought that he would ease into it, those thoughts were shattered by one long, enthusiastic lick. Sighing into the motion, he sucked at her folds, emitting a contented growl when her legs tightened around his shoulders.

He held her open, wedging his massive body into her hips until her inner thighs ached with the strain. Lilah was beyond caring, her fingers digging into the pillow beneath her as she rose higher and higher towards orgasm. There was no teasing, no drawing this out. Brasa worked with a singular purpose, tongue swirling around her clit, hands holding her up to his mouth.

She grit her teeth, the need so vast and deep that it became a vibrant pain, soothed only by his touch. It tunneled down deep into her bones, sticking in her throat when she cried out, the spasms raking over her voice so that it came out hoarse and rasping.

Lilah breathed forcefully, eyes squeezed shut as he worked her through it, easing up when she shook, too sensitive. When she was able to look down at him, he was rolling his tongue over his lips, eyes focused on where she was still fluttering sporadically. Her mouth went dry at the sight, the hunger that he wasn’t even attempting to veil.

The hand on her hip rotated, and she felt him push two fingers inside her, the motion sending little frissons of electricity over the nerve endings. She shivered. He smiled, fangs peeking out. Then, he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, black gaze watching her reaction. Lilah bit her lip, giving up totally on controlling her breathing.

He kissed his way up her body, settling atop her. Lilah pulled him even closer, yanking at the buttons of his shirt. It was nearly impossible to focus when he was kissing her, hands turning her head so that he could nuzzle against her neck, inhaling. She gave herself some credit. She got his shirt unbuttoned and halfway down his arms before she got distracted by a particularly hard nip just above her collarbone.

Hissing, she pulled him up, trying to gain a little leverage to push him over onto his back. Lilah was not successful. He held her down, smirking when she made a small sound of frustration.

“I want,” she started, a whine cutting off the rest of the words.

Brasa caught her hands, holding them down onto the mattress with almost his full weight, “What is it?”

Oh, now he wants to tease, she thought.

“Is this what you want?” His hips swiveled in a slow, firm grind, “I’ll give it to you, if its what you want, querida.”

Lilah moaned, writhing beneath him, desperate to get the friction she needed. She was close, close enough that she was willing to forgo any sense of pride to get there.

“Yes, yes,” she breathed, head thrown back as he rolled his hips against her.

He let go of one of her wrists, and she felt him reach down and open the fly of his slacks. Lifting off just enough to kick off the offending material, Brasa laid back down, gathering her to him. The next kiss was venom soaked, sweet and hot. Lilah groaned, pushing her hips into him, needing to feel him inside her.

Brasa slid in to the hilt in one strong, fluid motion that filled the emptiness inside Lilah completely. Her breath stuttered in her lungs, her legs lifting to accommodate him. He was so fucking hot—his mouth, his body, his cock. Sweat pooled in the hollows and bend of her limbs, darkening the hair at her temple. She gripped his shoulders, pulled on the shirt he still wore, caught by the buttons on his cuffs.

And then he was moving. The sound of his cock pushing into her wet body, the feeling of him both easing and stirring the blooming ache of her arousal, the way he ground out a helpless sound against her neck. It all meshed together, overwhelming her until she could do nothing but hold on as he fucked her.

The pleasure grew inside her, reaching into every inch of her body. She wailed, head thrown back, fingers fisted in his hair. Spurred on, his pace picked up, breath punching out of him when she raked her nails up his back. It took very little to push her the rest of the way over the edge, the feeling spiraling through her.

Brasa’s grip on her tightened as he thrust into her one last time, his spine arched, lips pulled back from his fangs. She could feel him pulsing, could feel every reflexive spasm as he came.

When his strength returned, Brasa rolled gingerly off her, his large hand tracing down the center of her body to rest heavily on her belly. She grasped it, holding him by the wrist as she caught her breath. Lilah looked over at him, smiling at the fact that he was still wearing that shirt, though she’d torn the collar and it was wrinkled beyond nearly all recognition.

Her fingers touched the tear, “That’s going to be a difficult one to explain to the dry cleaner.”

Brasa smirked as he unbuttoned the cuffs around each wrist, “I may keep it like this.”

Lilah’s brows lifted, “Like a memento?”

He hummed in confirmation.

“I didn’t realize you were so sentimental.”

Throwing the shirt off the side of the bed, Brasa laid on his side, observing her from where he’d perched his head on his palm, “I am not, generally. But, with you…” He trailed off as he leaned down and kissed her softly.

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #Brasa #In the Bond

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fabulouspotatosister · 4 years ago

Text

Reset - Part One: Darling

a/n: Whoa, Eleven x Reader fanfiction in the year of our Lord 2020? More likely than you think.

I meant to finish the original version of this fic years ago, and then the Thirteenth Doctor came along and... well, we all know what happened. I was also just going to update the fic with a whole new chapter, but I decided to rewrite the whole thing since I wrote the first draft in 2015. Then I posted it in 2018 on AO3 to see if anyone would read it, and then proceeded to abandon it for two years.

This fic is inspired by the episode "Amy's Choice", and, of course, "What's In a Dream?" by midnighteclipses. It's still one of my favorite DW reader-insert fics out there, and the first one I read a long long time ago. I hope you enjoy this!

Also if this read-more doesn’t work, I’m going to cry.

Word count: 3529

[Part One: You are here!] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five]

“Darling, wake up.”

You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, clumsy fingers grabbing at your blanket to pull the fuzzy thing over your eyes. The blankets smell good today. You’ve always used the same detergent, and it’s never failed you. Your brain is protesting, but your mouth hasn’t quite caught up yet, so all you do is mumble into your blanket, your mumbling roughly translating to “Five more minutes, please?”

“Love. Sweetie. Dear. Don’t make me pull out ‘sweetheart’, I know how much you hate it.” You hear a long, dramatic sigh, and you feel a weight sink into the mattress. The weight shifts, and you feel hands splayed out on top of the blanket, threatening to pull it away and rob you of some good, extra sleep. “Please wake up.”

“No,” you whine, vainly hoping that you’ll sink into the blankets and fall asleep before the idea of waking up becomes too tempting. It is getting a little hot... “Leave me alone.”

Another sigh. “You asked for it.”

“No, no -!”

Suddenly, the blanket’s yanked away - you wince at the bright light that filters through the room, and when your vision clears, you see your husband, John.

He smiles at you, and it’s brilliant. His hair is sticking out at ridiculous angles and yet he is still stunning, big beautiful green eyes shining in the light of the rising sun. “Hi,” he breathes out, and all you can think is that you have never felt so lucky in your entire life.

“Hi.” You smile back, and his smile grows wider. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you too,” he says softly, reaching out to brush your hair from your forehead. “I was starting to wonder if you would ever wake up.”

“Sleep is good.” You raise your eyebrows and push yourself up into a sitting position - John moves to sit closer to you, his hand falling from your temple and into your lap. He wraps his hand around yours. “It’s an escape.”

“What, an escape from me? Am I that insufferable?” John lifts your hand to his mouth, laughing slightly. He presses his lips lightly to the inside of your palm, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He slowly lifts his eyes to meet yours, mischief behind them, and suddenly you’re a schoolgirl with a crush, your heart racing at a simple kiss. “Well?”

Well, that wasn’t fair. “Are you trying something?”

John doesn’t move, but you know he’s hidden his smirk behind your hand - “Is it working?”

“Do you want me to tell you the truth?”

Oh, he’s definitely smirking now. “Of course.”

“You are a big flirt.” You pull your hand away with a laugh. John had always been mischievous, his affection expressed in teasing touches and words. “Is something up? What’s the occasion?”

“The occasion? There’s no occasion,” John says, and then his smile falls. You can see the gears in his head turning as he lifts his gaze to the sky, his lips open slightly in thought - and then, like nothing, he smiles again. “Although something is up. Close your eyes.”

“What, now?” You giggle, doing as you’re told.

“Yes, now,” John says. You feel him cup your face in his hands, and feel his lips on your forehead, and you catch the faint smell of pancake mix and blueberries amongst his distinctive smell. “I had to hurry before you got grumpy, and so there’s a bit of a mess in the kitchen, I’m really sorry -”

"I don't get grumpy!"

"Right, right…"

You feel him get off the bed and leave the room, his footsteps growing softer as he walks away. Distantly, there’s the clinking of plates and utensils, something being poured into a glass, and something muttered that you’re sure is a swear -

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

You do, and you can barely keep your jaw from falling open - laid out in front of you is a breakfast feast. Pancakes, perfectly stacked pancakes drizzled with just the right amount of syrup, dotted with the color of blueberries, and a steaming cup of coffee right beside it. The room smells amazing now, and you feel amazing. All you can do is stare incredulously at the meal laid out in front of you.

“Surprise!”

You look up at John, your mouth still wide open - he hands you a fork and smiles sheepishly, placing his hands behind his back. Standing in front of you, you finally notice the flour stains on his arms, and the bits of batter on his shirt. Shaking your head, you blink away tears.

“Oh no, don’t cry,” John says, quickly reaching forward to take your face in his hands again. He strokes your cheek with his thumb and you bask in the warmth of his touch - you are so lucky to have someone like him in your life. Forever. “I just wanted to make you breakfast.”

“Yeah, but - this is so nice, I can’t -” You reach up and hold his wrists. “Why?”

“Well, you deserve to have nice things.” John exhales, looking up at the ceiling before pressing his forehead to yours. “Someone as beautiful as you deserves to have nice things.”

“Oh, don’t start,” you complain, but John just laughs and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. You, with your bedhead and your chapped lips and your sleepy face, beautiful. You weren’t really complaining at all. There’s a buzzing noise from the nightstand on the other side of the bed - “Hey, I think that’s your phone.”

“I don’t have a phone,” John says innocently.

“You have a phone, and you have work,” you counter. You realize you’re winning when he lets go of your face and rolls onto the other side of the bed to check his phone.

“I’m going to be late!” you hear him gasp, and you bark out a laugh - John turns to face you, scandalized, his face pale. “This is no time to be laughing at my misery!”

“It’s the perfect time to be laughing at your misery.”

“I’m sorry, I got carried away making breakfast -” John scrambles off the bed, rushing to the closet and pulling out a coat. He switches between the closet and the full-length mirror propped up beside it, running his hands through his hair and adjusting his coat. “Bon appetit! Enjoy your pancakes, sweetheart, I’ve got to -”

“Wait!” you cry out, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait. C’mere, I’m not letting you leave without a hug from me.”

“But of course,” he says, quickly walking to you and leaning down so he can wrap your arms around you. You press kisses to his neck, his jaw, and finally his lips, attacking him with affection as a small “thank you” for the breakfast. It’s the least you can do for your lovely husband, the perfect man that you’ve somehow managed to snag from everyone else. How did you even manage that?

“I won’t keep you,” you whisper, and he pulls away. “Go, you clever boy!”

John beams at you and rushes out of the room - you hear the front door slam not long after. You settle into your pillows and pick at your pancakes; they taste divine, of course, and you sit on your bed silently eating your pancakes while enjoying the sound of distant birdsong. Chewing on a particularly syrupy piece of fluffy pancake you remember that you’ll have to clean up the “mess” John mentioned earlier, and you smile, having a plan already set for the day.

You spring to your feet with a renewed sense of vigor, gathering up your empty plate and mug, and carrying them into the kitchen. You smooth your gloved hands over your apron and get to work washing all the plates left in the sink - and then you frown. You don’t remember when you got dressed, or when you put those gloves on, and what you ate last night. The thought passes quickly before you shake your head and continue scrubbing at an already spotless plate.

You dry off the last of the plates, placing it neatly onto a metal rack before grabbing a broom and sweeping the floor - you’d narrowly avoided choosing carpet as your flooring when you were renovating, before John had swooped in and saved the day by picking out some classic floorboards.

The dust and lint gathers into a pile in the corner, and you lean on your broom, admiring your home.

You were lucky to have bought such a nice house. It wasn’t too big, but had enough space for you to be able to decorate and plan for the future. Very lucky indeed...

There’s a “photo wall” near the kitchen that you like to look at. It’s sparse, but there are a lot of mementos there to remind you of the important things. Among the usual decorative pictures of forests and gardens there are pictures of you and John - pictures of the two of you at your wedding, posing and laughing and drinking with friends. Wasn’t your dress frilly that day? Or was it loose? Wasn’t your hair in a bun? John didn’t wear a bowtie, you think...

You squint at the photos. Your gaze is drawn to one of the wedding pictures, one from the reception where you’re standing with all your bridesmaids. You’re drinking and laughing, holding a champagne flute in your hand, but you can’t make out the bridesmaids faces. They’re fuzzy, and where are their mouths? Their eyes? The photo blurs like the photographer taking it had moved his hand while trying to take the shot.

Your grip on your broom tightens. It feels like years and years ago, and the details escape you now.

You shouldn’t focus on those things. You’re happy here, with John - but maybe you should go find your bridesmaids, it’s been so long since you’ve last seen them. What were their names again? You’re sure Jenny was one... but you don’t know a “Jenny”.

You can feel your nails digging into the broom’s wooden handle now, threatening to leave crescent-shaped marks into its surface. The details escape you, now.

And the details don’t matter.

You sweep quickly, the pile of lint and dust and pieces of wood growing steadily bigger. Soon enough the house will be spotless again, and John will come back from work and you’ll kiss him until you have to clean the house again.

That’s my life, whispers the voice in the back of your head, and you believe it. I am happy. I am content.

“I am happy,” you mutter as you place the broom down, letting in lean against the side of one of the kitchen counters. The pile of dust is gone, you swept it out of the door. You walk towards the living room, the soft surface of the sofa beckoning you to lay on it and just take a nap. Forget about all the racing thoughts in your mind. You said sleep was an escape, and you have to escape now. "I am content."

But your feet take you somewhere else. You lead yourself down the hallways, away from the living room, and now you’re standing in front of a beautifully painted blue door.

You don’t recognize the door, but it’s familiar. Your brain helpfully supplies it as the laundry room, which is always clean and doesn’t need cleaning ever, but you’re drawn to how faded it is. You lift your hand and drag your fingers across its surfaces. You feel old paint and memories behind this door, and you don’t have to open it.

Your fingers inch closer and closer to the doorknob and you don’t need to open it -

The door swings open slowly with a soft creak. It’s pitch-black in there. You feel a soft breeze against your face - you take a small step inside, clinging to the doorway, squinting through the darkness. The darkness almost feels solid, like a barrier, keeping you out.

Or, you think as you spot a flickering flashlight on the floor, it’s keeping something in.

You pick up the flashlight, tapping it a few times until its flickering stops. Your fingers curl around its sleek metal handle. You wave it around, watching it cut through the darkness to reveal -

The flashlight clatters to the ground. Writing. Words, scrawled all over the walls in your handwriting, frenzied rambling trailing from the walls to the ceiling. Don’t forget, try not to forget. Among the crazed writing are drawings, messy sketches of you and John together in places you don’t recognize. Arrows pointing to John labeled “Doctor, Doctor”.

“No, no, no...” You feel weak, you feel wrong. This can’t be real. It’s not real. Where am I? Who am I?

And etched into the wall right in front of you, surrounded by your name: Remember who you are.

You blink, breathing heavily, and you’re outside. The door was never open. The door was never there. You trace your fingers against the wall, and it just feels like a wall. It’s just a wall. A wall with some really nice wallpaper, wallpaper that you picked out not long before the wedding. You agreed on flowers, because they were nice to look at - didn’t you agree on stripes?

You keep blinking. You can still see its silhouette in the split second where your eyes haven’t fully closed yet, and when they’re not fully open.

But there was a door. You could have sworn there was a door there, it led to the laundry room - you feel all over the wall and find the place where the doorknob should be, and you feel something solid but see nothing. What the hell is going on –

…

“Darling, I’m home!”

John’s voice rings out from behind you and you suck in a breath, whipping around to see him come in through the front door. The sun’s already set. Darling. He’s never really called you darling, hasn’t he? You take in a shaky breath, and call back - “Yes, honey?”

John lifts his arms for a hug, grinning brightly and dressed in completely different clothes from when he left. “Where’s my lovely wife?”

My lovely wife, I was never your lovely wife, but you rush into his arms anyway. He stumbles back at the force of your embrace, slowly wrapping his arms around you and patting your hair. This is comfort you’re used to, but not in this context. And now all the things he did this morning seem so different - “Hey - what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m-” Not sure about who I am. John’s hold loosens on you slightly, and he leans away from you to look into your eyes. “I think something’s wrong.”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong, nothing’s ever been wrong,” John says. But everything is wrong - how is he not getting it? “But tell me.”

“The laundry room,” you mumble, even though that place was definitely not the laundry room. John’s eyebrows furrow slightly.

“We’ve never had a laundry room.” He looks over your shoulder at the place that’s just a wall, and frowns. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“But - there was a door there,” you say, wrenching yourself away from John’s arms and walking to the wall. The wallpaper flickers between flowers and stripes. You feel against the wall until you hit something solid, something round. “There’s a door here right now.”

John squints. “I don’t see it.”

“Look,” you stress. You grab his hand and place it on the doorknob, and when you look up the door is back, beautiful and blue and now you know what it reminds you of. “Open the door.”

“Darling, I don’t -”

“Stop calling me darling and open the door, Doctor!” you snap, and John pulls his hand away from the doorknob, his mouth hanging open in shock.

“That’s not my name,” he insists. “You’re not feeling well.”

“I’m feeling very well, thank you very much,” you grumble. Remember who you are. “Please, just open the door. For me.”

John - but also not John - stares at you, his mouth set in a hard line. You recognize that look and you recognize him, who he really is, and he’s not your husband. After a moment, he sighs, places his hand on the doorknob, and twists it, flinging the door open.

The room is illuminated now, all of the scratched writing clear to see - Remember, you have to remember who you are. There are so many more sketches now, and they blur and shift right in front of your eyes. You’re all in places you recognize - Starship UK, ancient Egypt, the planet of the Gargotins. You grab John’s hand and lead him to one of the sketches on the wall.

“I remember this,” John mumbles. He presses his hands to the wall. “This was a dream I had. You and me together at the end of the world.”

“When?” you ask.

“L-last night,” he replies. You grab the front of his shirt and he gasps.

“Then what did we do last night?”

“I don’t remember.”

The whole dream shatters when you find one, tiny, hairline crack in the illusion. There was never a “last night”. “You don’t remember or you don’t know?!”

John opens his mouth to say something, but then he closes it, deep in thought. You can see the gears turning in his head - just like the morning, when nothing was wrong and everything was perfect and he was your husband - but they’re turning too slowly, which isn’t like who he really is. The room starts to darken, the writing that’s brought you back fading away. You’re running out of time.

You grip his shirt tighter and shake him. “You need to remember! Who you really are - it’s got to be locked in your big brain somewhere! You’re not John Smith, you’re not my husband, you’re The Doctor!”

“The - the Doctor…” he stammers, raising his hands to his head, his eyes widening in realization.

“Yes, that’s you! Two thousand years old! An alien! Come on!”

“The Doctor - I am the Doctor!” Suddenly, the Doctor grins and grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you into a tight hug. He laughs, his arms wrapped around you, squeezing you slightly before he lets go. “Oh, it feels good to be me again. Hair - good. Eyes - still got ‘em. Bowtie -” His hand shoots up to his collar. He frowns when he doesn’t feel anything there - “Could be worse.”

“Doctor, where are we?”

“Dunno. I can’t tell if it’s a simulation or an actual set. If it’s a simulation, then it’s not a good one.” The Doctor whirls around, examining the walls. He lifts his hand to place it in his jacket, looking for his sonic - then he groans when he realizes he was never wearing a jacket. “Empty pockets!”

“Oh, again?”

The entire room shakes and you stumble - the voice sounds like it’s coming from everywhere without a clear source, and it also sounds vaguely annoyed. The Doctor quickly grabs your hand and squeezes it tight in silent comfort, and now you wish he hadn’t done all of those things in the morning. You glance at his serious face and silently thank whatever gods are out there that he hasn’t mentioned any of it, at all.

“Marlene. Marlene!”

There’s another voice, timid and shy. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Subjects 11A and 11B have escaped immersion. Again. For the fifth time this cycle. Did you forget to intensify their wipes?”

“No, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am.”

“They’re awake now, so they’re no use to us. Reset them and -”

“WAIT!” Your plea comes out louder than expected. The Doctor glances at you, and when you meet his gaze, confusion and concern swim in his eyes. “At least tell us what’s going on!”

“Sorry, 11B, but that’s classified information. You should know, you’ve asked me this before.”

“Well, it would do us a world of good if we knew!” the Doctor says loudly. “Who are you?”

“I’ll say it again. Classified information.” There’s a spitting sound, and then another laugh. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Well then make time!” you shout, and the Doctor pulls you closer to him.

“Oh, 11A, or should I say the Doctor. Not so ‘Oncoming Storm’ now, are you? Do you want me to tell you what happens to your poor little companion if you keep going like this? Or do you want a demonstration?”

“What it’s talking about?” You look up at the Doctor. His eyes are trained on the ceiling, and they’re burning with anger.

“I don’t know. Keep quiet,” he mutters. Then, raising his voice again, “We’ll keep trying! We’ll keep trying to get out!”

You hear a deep chuckle. “Then good luck. Reset them.”

A wave of exhaustion passes over you, and through your haze you reach out for the Doctor - you still have to keep him safe -

You’re out before you even hit the floor, the Doctor’s hand still wrapped in yours.

#i havent even really finished it yet #but here it is!!#i hope you guys like it #i had a blast writing this 2015 me is thriving #doctor who #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor x reader #eleventh doctor #11th doctor x reader #doctor who fanfiction #jess writes

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prayerith · 4 years ago

Note

maybe them playing video games at yugi's place after school?

so i know this is three days late, but in my defense, i wanted it to be good, and election stress, and also i finished it yesterday but didn’t want to post it because of, you know. everything. however, i have finally finished, and i bring you: wishshipping where they’re playing video games, but it’s also a first kiss story :) (g-rated!) thanks again for the prompt!!

Having a best friend that lived above a game shop came with certain benefits, Jonouchi thought as he sat down on Yugi’s bed, N64 controller in hand. The one he was most concerned with at the moment was Kame Game’s early access to the latest video games, and the fact that Yugi almost always got a free copy of any game he wanted from his grandpa as soon as they came in. As such, the only reason he was at Yugi’s house was to play the new Nintendo fighting game (named Super Smash Bros, of all things), no matter what Anzu tried to insinuate as she saw the two of them walking in the same direction after school.

“Hey! Did it boot up okay?” Jonouchi nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Yugi’s voice, but relaxed when he saw him in the doorframe, balancing two bags of chips and a two-liter of soda in his arms.

“Yeah, it’s ready whenever we are,” Jonouchi replied, before standing up and taking one of the bags and the two-liter from Yugi to set them on the coffee table in front of the small television. Yugi smiled gratefully, and Jonouchi carefully ignored the skipped beat of his heart as he watched Yugi set the remaining bag down. He was only here for Super Smash Bros. Nothing more.

“Ah, thanks, Jonouchi.” Yugi’s face was red, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke. Jonouchi found himself fixated on the violet of his eyes, the movements of his muscles, the blush of his cheeks, even as he tried to put it aside and focus on the character-select screen. “Well, should we get started?” Yugi asked, clapping his hands together as he sat down on the bed entirely too close for Jonouchi’s liking.

“Sure thing, Yug’. What character do you want?” The urge to toss his arm over Yugi’s shoulders was almost too great to ignore, but he managed to push it down, instead swallowing and moving the joystick over the character portraits in a circle.

Yugi hummed, opening a bag of chips before grabbing his own controller. “I want…” he said, before selecting his character, with a cry of, “Kirby!” He reached into the bag of chips and popped a handful into his mouth, then, chewing at Jonouchi as though it were meant to be triumphant. Mostly, Jonouchi thought Yugi looked silly – and yet, whenever Yugi looked silly, he looked cute, so he couldn’t quite complain.

“The marshmallow, I should have known,” he said instead, arching an eyebrow at Yugi, who immediately erupted into laughter.

“Hey, don’t underestimate the marshmallow!” Yugi fixed Jonouchi with a stare that was surely meant to be intimidating, but was contradicted by the laughter sparkling in his eyes, and the twitch of his cheeks as he tried to keep them from smiling. “I can beat you with Kirby nine times out of ten, no doubt!”

“We’ll see about that!” Jonouchi laughed, selecting Link after not much thought. The guy’s got a cool sword, what could he say? Yugi hit the start button, and selected the first stage – thank goodness for that, Jonouchi had to figure out how the game worked before trying anything too crazy! After a brief loading screen, the game counted them down from three, and they were off.

***

“And that’s another win for me!” Yugi set his controller down and flung his arms into the air, eyes squeezed nearly shut from his smile as Kirby smiled from his first-place position, Link clapping politely in the background. “Yugi five, Jonouchi zero,” he continued, doing a seated victory dance that did little more than shake the bed underneath them.

Jonouchi only looked at the victory screen on the television for a moment before his gaze was drawn back to Yugi, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his bright smile. He didn’t much like losing, but it was worth it if he could see Yugi smile like that. “Guess I’m gonna need more time to get the hang of this game than you, huh?” he said, unable to keep the fondness out of his tone. “What’s your secret? How are you so good at everything you do?”

Yugi turned to look at him, then, cheeks immediately turning pink, which was cuter than it had any right to be. “Quit messing around, Jonouchi. There are plenty of things I’m not good at!” There was still laughter in his tone, like he was making a joke, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck told Jonouchi there was more going on.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like that! C’mon, you’re the closest thing to perfect I’ve ever seen.” Jonouchi put his hand on Yugi’s shoulder and shook it lightly. Yugi’s cheeks flushed even darker; whether it was because of the compliment or the physical contact, Jonouchi couldn’t be sure. He didn’t reply, choosing instead to stare at his lap and keep rubbing his neck. Jonouchi’s eyes narrowed; that had to stop. Without thinking, he grabbed Yugi’s hand and brought it to rest in the space between them, rubbing the back lightly with his own thumb to help comfort Yugi. “Hey, need me to run down a list?”

Yugi ducked his head, further avoiding eye contact, speaking his next words to the carpet. Jonouchi had to pause for a moment to fully comprehend what he said – it was always tougher for him to understand what people were saying if he couldn’t see their mouth move – but eventually he managed to process it. “No, you’re fine, I get it. You see me differently than I see myself, I guess.”

“Well that’s a shame, because I wish you saw yourself how I see you!” Jonouchi began holding Yugi’s hand with both of his, ducking his head so that he could see Yugi’s eyes under his bangs. “When I see you, I see the smart, brave, compassionate person who stood up for a no-good bully, even though he got beat up in the process.” Yugi opened his mouth to respond, but Jonouchi cut him off. “And I know you’re about to defend me, say that I was just trying to make you a man, or that I didn’t know what I was doing, and that’s the thing, Yug’! You always look for the good in people, no matter how deep you have to dig to find it. You have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, and it’s all focused toward other people. When are you going to find compassion for yourself?” He squeezed Yugi’s hand a little tighter, which made Yugi finally look up toward him, wide, violet eyes shiny with unshed tears. Jonouchi felt like his heart would burst at the sight, so he squeezed tighter still, until Yugi brought his neglected hand to join the other, squeezing back.

“I think I prefer to hear it from you,” Yugi finally responded, voice thick with the tears he had yet to shed. But he was smiling, now, and that made Jonouchi so happy, he didn’t think twice about leaning forward to close the distance between them and kissing Yugi.

As far as first kisses went, it could have been better. The way they were sitting, side-by-side on Yugi’s bed a foot apart, made the angle awkward, especially since Jonouchi refused to let go of Yugi’s hands. Not to mention, the way Jonouchi had rushed in made the press of lips hard and unyielding, and Yugi had gone stiff at their first touch. When Jonouchi pulled away, it was with regret, fear – had he ruined their friendship forever? “I’m sorry, Yug’, I didn’t –”

“Let’s try that again,” Yugi interrupted, pulling his hands free and scooting close enough that his shoulders and thighs were touching Jonouchi’s. He cradled Jonouchi’s face with a hand, and Jonouchi knew he must have gone wide-eyed, because Yugi laughed. Finally, he leaned in, and captured Jonouchi’s lips in a much gentler, less impulsive kiss. Jonouchi melted into the contact, reciprocating as best he could, before they both pulled away. Yugi looked fit to burst with happiness, despite the lingering tears in his eyes, and Jonouchi couldn’t keep the dopey grin off his face.

“Man, and you really think you aren’t good at everything? ‘Cause you keep adding to the list!” Jonouchi laughed, brushing a stray bang out of Yugi’s eyes. Yugi glared at him, but it was playful, and he combed his hand through Jonouchi’s hair as well. “Seriously, that was the best kiss I ever had! You oughta teach classes on this, I’m not kidding.”

Yugi raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh? You want me to kiss other people?” Jonouchi stared at him for a second, again taking time to process, before spluttering and taking things back. Yugi just laughed, and interrupted him with another kiss. “I’m just kidding, Jonouchi. If you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

Time froze around Jonouchi, the world reduced to nothing but him and Yugi. If he could, he would have sprinted out the door and ran through the streets of Domino, proclaiming that Yugi was his. As it was, though, all he could say was, “Yeah, of course. And I’m yours too.” Then, he kissed Yugi again, just because he could. And if pieces of Kirby’s victory screen were burnt into the television screen for some time afterwards, well, who could blame them for forgetting to turn the game off?

#my writing #i think that's my tag?#thanks again!#stabbymattress #wishshipping #this turned out way longer than i meant it to be lol

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mel-the-fangirl · 5 years ago

Text

Quarantine

Tom Holland x Reader

Words: 2,535

I’M BACK! This certainly took a while. I went through a lot of shit in the time I was gone but one thing I’ve realised is that I really want to keep writing. So, here I am. Just something appropriate for the times. This is the first thing I’ve written and actually finished so, she might not be good but she is something.

Please leave a like, a comment, a reblog, if you fancy it.

I’ve missed y’all heaps and I cannot wait to reconnect with you all <3

--------------------------------------------------

"For how long?"

"Until further notice they said."

You chewed on your thumbnail, eyes idly skimming the news article on Tom's laptop.

Stay indoors.

Leave the house only for groceries.

Buy only the necessities.

Wash your hands.

Things have escalated since it first began, which was expected, of course. But what you didn’t expect was how quickly things were happening, and how many people you knew were getting sick.

"...an estimated half a million are infected all over the world, with the numbers only expected to rise in the coming weeks…" a news reporter droned from the TV in the next room

You couldn’t stop your mind from going into overdrive, anxiously flitting through bits of information, questions, contingency plans, fears...

"And here I thought you'd stopped biting your nails. Didn't you just paint them the other day?"

You looked up to see Tom looking at you with an amused expression on his face. Hastily, you clasped your hands together and stuck your tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes in return and settled in next to you, wrapping a reassuring arm around your shoulders.

"Don't worry, Y/N," he said, pulling you closer to him, "Everything's going to be fine soon. You'll see."

You breathed slowly, in and out, trying your hardest to believe his words, to be optimistic.

But that never really was your strong point, was it?

Instead of bombarding him with the "what if's" that were dancing on the tip of your tongue, you smushed your face into his chest and let the warmth of him take you in.

---A few days later---

"Quarantine squad."

"Quaren-squad? Quaren-quad."

"Quaren-quad like, Farquad? From Shrek."

"That's Lord Farquad to you, sir."

This.

This is what it's come to. Watching four Holland boys feebly try to christen the family unit (plus you) with a shiny new pandemic-appropriate nickname.

From your place on the living room couch, you could see the twins and Paddy, sprawled out on the carpet, phones in hand, testing their latest attempts under their breath. Then there was Tom, his back against the couch with Tess in his lap, clearly enjoying the full house.

You had just wished that they would just get lost in their phones and forget about the little nickname contest when Harry shot up and blurted out,

"Squa-rantine! No! Squad-rantine?"

Paddy snickered, earning a flick on the ear from his older brother.

"Yeah, yeah. Snicker all you want, Pads, I don't hear you coming up with anything." Harry grumbled, laying down once again

"Better than coming up with shit ones." the youngest Holland muttered under his breath

"Ooooooh." Tom covered his mouth with a hand, eyes flitting between Harry and Paddy

You reached out to tug on his hair.

"Ow! What was that for?" he turned to you, rubbing at the spot

"You're not supposed to be encouraging this." you hissed at him

"Oh come on, darling, I wanna see what'll happen."

Honestly. You were worried that the longer Tom stayed in, the more likely the possibility that you'd be telling him off more than his brothers.

Harry shot up once again, glaring daggers at Paddy, who was still preoccupied, playing a game on his phone. Paddy's nonchalance was just enough for Harry to go off.

"Shit ones? Ha. Alright then, you're so full of it, let's see you come up with one then. Right now. Come on then." the challenge was clear in Harry's voice but it went straight over Paddy’s head

After a few seconds of silence, Harry stood up and snatched Paddy's phone right from his hands.

"Oi! Give it back!" Paddy exclaimed, getting up as well

“Aaand that’s my cue to leave. Good luck, Y/N.” Sam gave you a pat on the shoulder before leaving you to this mess

Tom, on the other hand, was laughing away, loving the action which was the most action anyone had ever seen at this point.

"I'll give it back if you come up with a name." Harry held the phone above his head, but seeing as they were all nearly the same height, he had to get on his tippy toes for a bit of leverage

"Harry, come on! Give it back!" Paddy had his arms outstretched, Harry's wrist in a death grip

"Oh, for Christ's sakes!" you took the distance between you and the sparring brothers in two strides, effortlessly managing to grab the phone from Harry's hand

And just like that, everything stopped. Harry and Paddy straightened up and looked at you expectantly, the faintest hint of fear in their eyes. They all knew better than to piss you off.

Tom was by your side in an instant, arms crossed.

"I told both of you to cut it out." he deadpanned

You rolled your eyes, giving Tom some side eye.

"Go stand with them."

Shoulders slumped forward and a pout on his lips, Tom trudged over to his smirking brothers.

You looked at each of them in turn, just long enough to make them squirm. Without a word, you pocketed the phone and began to walk out of the living room.

"But, Y/N-" Paddy began

You spun around and chucked the phone at them with lightning speed, catching them off guard and into a mess of outstretched limbs.

Of course, Tom caught it, with his spidey reflexes. They all looked at you with wide eyes, you could almost hear their hearts pounding.

"Good job, quaranteam."

With that, you turned to leave. Applause and cheers followed you on your way out.

"Quaranteam! Quaranteam!" they chanted

"That's my fucking girl!" Tom cheered, catching up with you to lift you off the ground and spin you around in his arms

---One week later---

Another day inside.

You didn’t really know what day it was or what time it was, but judging from Harry’s poofy mess of a bedhead and Sam and Tito Dom moving around the kitchen, throwing around hollandaise puns, you’d wager it was slightly earlier than noon.

"Heads up, team-” Tito Dom began, placing the egg carton on the counter

“Quaranteam.” Tom corrected, giving you a wink

“Right. Heads up, quaranteam. We are officially out of eggs.”

You watched drearily as he dropped the empty carton in the bin. No more eggs… Normally, you didn’t give that sort of thing much thought because you knew any one of you could pop out to buy some. But now, well, things were just different now.

From where he sat across from you, Tom unconsciously let his eyes wander over your features.

The crease in between your eyes you reserved for when he did something amazingly idiotic seemed to be ever present nowadays despite him being on his best behaviour (the bar wasn’t so high to begin with). The bags underneath your eyes were darker, he knew you’d been having trouble falling asleep, tossing and turning restlessly in bed until he had to wrap himself around you like a koala.

Everything that’s been going on was taking a toll on everyone but they hid it well. Unfortunately, you weren’t good at that.

“Breakfast!” Sam announced, setting the steaming plates down on the table

“Eggs Benedict. With hollandaise.” Tito Dom smirked, settling into his seat

A collective groan rose from the table then the usual chatter began. Tom met your eyes from time to time, always giving you a smile.

Looking at his boyishly handsome face, you promised that you would make more of an effort to stop sulking so much. The next time Tom looked at you, you smiled back. There and then he promised he’d find a way to cheer you up somehow.

After breakfast you decided to take part in your favourite pastime, lying on the living room couch and scrolling on your phone.

A few minutes later, Tom came in, the faint smell of their lemon dish soap clinging to his hoodie. He playfully dropped himself on you and locked you in a tight hug.

“Isn’t this nice.” he mumbled, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck

“For you, I’m sure.” you replied, struggling to make your tone as dismissive as possible

He tore himself off you, making sure to give you a searing glare, “You’re mean.”

You laughed, easily and freely, feeling the weight of the previous weeks fall off your shoulders. Tom chuckled, reaching forward to grab one of your hands.

“I have to go get some eggs, darling.” he watched your face carefully

“Hurry right back then.” you tugged on his hand that was holding yours, making him fall into you

“Whoa there.” he breathed out just before you planted your lips on his

You could feel him smiling just as you were. As you pulled away, he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. He looked at you, just for a while, almost in wonder.

He shook his head, smiling, spots of crimson beginning to spread on his cheeks. Then he stood up, squeezed your hand and kissed it.

“I’ve got errands to run, Y/N. I’d appreciate it if you don’t make me combust from the force of being madly in love with you until I’ve finished them.”

“I’ll try but, you know that’s my forte.” you winked, giving him the finger guns

Tom threw his head back and laughed. You could hear him laughing all the way to the front door.

It didn’t take long until you began to doze off, your full belly and the warmth of being at home with the people who loved you lulling you to sleep.

You wished everyone had the same luxury.

-----------

“I promise this is a good idea.” Tom reassured, but the closer they got to home the more it seemed like he was reassuring himself than Harrison, who made the trip with him

“It definitely seems like a good idea but I think you went overboard. I’m not sure if we needed that many.”

Tom glanced in his rearview mirror at his recent purchase, wondering if Haz was right.

But there wasn’t any time for second thoughts since he was already parking in front of the family house.

“Right. Haz, you go in first. I’ll take care of this.” he unbuckled his seatbelt, nodding his head towards the backseat

“Should I just not say anything then?” Harrison asked, eyeing the backseat

“Not a word.” Tom replied, getting out of the car

Inside, you were just waking up from your nap. Upon checking your phone you were pleasantly surprised to find out that it was two hours later and you hadn’t slept through the day. But you weren’t pleasantly surprised to notice that Tom wasn’t back yet, that thought hit you like a bucket of ice cold water, making you speed walk throughout the house.

The second you set foot in the hallway, the front door opened. A rush of relief washed over you as you threw your arms around the figure entering the threshold.

“I told you to hurry the hell back.” you squeezed him as hard as you could, noticing that he kind of smelled like corn flakes?

“Uh, Y/N?”

Your eyes widened and you pulled away, keeping Harrison at arm’s length.

“Wait. Did you..” you trailed off, looking at him suspiciously

“What?” Harrison looked genuinely confused until his blue eyes widened in realisation

You immediately dropped your hands to your side and he took a couple of steps away from you.

“Shit. Okay. I’m going to go take a shower. I’ll go tell Tom too.” Harrison rushed out the door

“Throw your clothes into the wash immediately!” you called after him before running up the stairs to disinfect

A 30-minute intensive bath later, you raced downstairs, hearing shouts and hollers.

“OVER THERE! ON YOUR LEFT!” you heard Sam yell

You ran through the dining room and stopped at the open sliding doors leading to the backyard, you could not believe what you were seeing.

Chickens. Three of them to be exact, two of them amicably pecking on the grass in an area of the backyard now closed off by a fence of mesh screen. The other chicken though, was running all over the place, keeping Tom on his toes.

"Come on, love. We're gonna take good care of you, huh? Nice and easy." Tom panted, wiping the sweat from his brow

He began to take slow, deliberate steps as the lone chicken stopped to scratch at some loose soil. The rest of the family watched on with bated breath.

The whole situation was highly intense, so intense that you’d forgotten to question why on earth there were three chickens in the backyard in the first place but these were odd times, you figured you’d just go with the flow.

“Nice and easy now, nice and easy.” Tom crouched low, slowly reaching his hands out to catch the mischievous feathery biped

Just as he was just a few centimeters away from success, the chicken sensed something was amiss and took off running in your direction.

“Y/N! GO ON CATCH THE DAMN BASTARD!” Harry yelled

“GO, Y/N! SHOW HIM WHO’S BOSS!” Sam cheered

You looked around frantically before squatting down and catching the rebel chicken in your arms. It squirmed and struggled in your grasp until finally giving up, settling for pecking at the lint of Tom’s sweater that you were wearing.

Tom jogged up to you, giving you a winning smile.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” he asked, tracing his finger down the chicken’s head

“Care to explain?” you continued to cradle the chicken in your arms as Tom led you to the others

He shrugged, “When we got to the store, there weren’t any eggs left so,”

“So you bought three chickens.” you filled in for him, setting the chicken in the enclosure with his other buddies

“Hey, me and Haz hit up three more groceries after that. Tell her, Haz.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s absolutely insane. Everyone’s gone and hoarded all the eggs.”

“Well, that was quick thinking. You really are your father’s son.” Tito Dom quipped, wrapping an arm around his eldest son

Tita Nikki rolled her eyes albeit affectionately, and gestured to the chickens

“Have they got names?” she asked

Tom perked up, rubbing his hands together, “Okay, so that one there? That’s Chestnut. Then over there is Ranger. And our particularly lively guest will be called Predator.”

“Predator?” Paddy echoed, peeking at said chicken, who was now trying to peck the fence open

“Look at him go.” you watched as Predator ruthlessly pecked at the mesh

“Suppose we’ll have to get them a proper coop?” Tom wondered, absentmindedly wrapping an arm around you

You stood there in silence along with the whole family as they discussed whether it was better to build one or buy one.

It was moments just like this one, the ones that were just peppered in between your days that were the most important, moments that made you feel like everything was just fine.

You wanted to remind yourself to be more grateful, to be more present, and to hold the people you loved the most close to your heart. Because, let’s get real here. That's the only way we’re going to get through this.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #sam holland #harry holland #holland family #hollanders #quacksons

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calmlftv · 5 years ago

Text

run away with me. - a.i.

description: after a sad and slightly messy rejection in September 2011, you and ashton meet again, the universe apparently deciding your story wasn’t over yet.

word count: 5.4k

warnings: angst, but with a happy ending

w/n: this is.....so much longer than i thought it would be lmao, but pls enjoy! also a big thank you for getting lil ol’ me to 300 followers, i’m still in shock but so so grateful 🥺

taglist: @spicycal @castaway-cashton @irwinkitten @n-ctarinenga

***

September 27th, 2011

The evening was cooler than you had anticipated, the sweat that connected your work shirt to your skin bringing a chill to your body as you walked home from work, your school bag against your shoulders and back. Your legs and feet ached from running around the retail store you worked at, tourists asking you loads of questions about sizing, pricing, and sometimes making a fuss about something out of your control entirely before storming out of the store. After the fifth customer you helped made you cry, your boss sent you to the registers, sentenced to ringing everybody out and arguing about coupons for the rest of your shift.

The few blocks between you and your bed went by quickly, your feet bringing you to the doorstep of your home just in time for curfew. You pushed your way inside and closed the door behind you, locking it like you always did before carrying yourself up the stairs.

“Hey there, petal,” your dad greeted from the couch. “Mum’s made dinner, should be a plate set for you in the fridge.”

“Thanks dad,” you said, forcing yourself to sound cheerful as you walked into the kitchen. “Mum in her office?” You spoke while moving about the kitchen, your backpack moving against your back as you heated up your food for yourself. You didn’t dare put it down on the ground in case your mother came in, not wanting to hear her berate you again after the day you’ve had.

Your dad stayed in his seat on the couch, whatever news channel he was engrossed in playing on the T.V. screen in front of him. “Yep. Best not to disturb her.”

Silently you nodded, internally cheering with joy while you grabbed cutlery and left the kitchen. “Mind if I take this to my room so I can study?”

Dad grunted an approval and off you go, quietly moving up the stairs to your bedroom, a plate of hot food in hand as you closed and locked your bedroom door. Once you had set down the food on your desk you let out a sigh, letting the bag fall off your back and land on the floor with a dull thud. You took a second to crawl into bed and bury yourself against your pillows, taking a deep breath and exhaling it as you closed your eyes.

Silence filled your room as you relaxed from your day, the constant emotions flowing out of you as you finally had a chance to process them all. Even at the age of 16 you were good at doing that, naming emotions and processing through them before you let them go, exhaling them through your nose when you had the chance to do so by yourself. It was days like these where you silently cursed your family for moving from Hornsby to Sydney, your cell phone silent as it sat in your back pocket; your childhood friends have long since stopped talking to you, especially with how strict your parents were, and while you were making friends in Sydney, it was slow going when you had such an early curfew and so many rules to follow.

As you were finally forcing yourself to get up, a tap against your window startled you, your head snapping over your shoulder to search for the source of the offending sound. A gasp escaped you as you watched a small pebble knock against your window, rushing over to open it and lean out the window.

Standing below you was your boyfriend Ashton, his brown hair falling over his face as he grinned widely up at you. Quickly you waved him up, the 17 year old quickly finding hand and foot holds as he climbed his way up the side of your house. You kept an eye out for your parents until he made it to your window, his limbs fumbling through the window as he climbed inside, his foot knocking a photo off your nightstand on his way in, thankfully not breaking the frame as it landed on the carpet with him.

You grinned, smothering a giggle as Ashton scrambled to his feet in front of you, his arms automatically sliding around your waist and pulling you close as he pressed his lips to yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you smiled against his lips, pulling him as close as physically possible before you broke apart.

With a finger to your lips you moved away from him, pressing your ear against the door while Ashton carefully moved to your bed. When you didn’t hear anybody on the other side you grabbed your old iPod and speaker off your desk and set them by your door, putting on some music at a soft volume so your parents would think you were studying before moving to join Ashton on your bed, grabbing the plate of lukewarm food from your desk to share.

Ashton took the food and set it aside, hands moving to your waist again as he pulled you into his lap, a quiet laugh coming from your lips as he kissed your cheek.

“Hey,” you said softly, keeping your voice quiet to listen for your parents. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? Does Anne know you’re here?”

The boy chuckled, his lips moving to press kisses wherever he could reach. “Anne knows I’m here,” he mumbled, his lips finding yours again as his arms moved around your waist and gave you a squeeze. “I got tired of your parents cockblocking us, and it’s a Tuesday and I have nothing to do.”

“What about your school work?”

Ashton pulled back and gave you a look that made you giggle. “Nevermind then.”

He chuckled, kissing your nose as you settled against his chest. You took a deep breath, the smell of him filling your lungs as you cuddled in. Ashton was your rock, probably the only person from Hornsby that still talked to you, and was probably the love of your life. Your parents think he’s a menace and refuse to let you see him, even though they know nothing about your relationship; to them you were best friends who were polar opposites, and Ashton was the reason you didn’t fit in their ideas of perfection. A lot of the rules they imposed on you came from various times you have snuck out to see him and been caught, but the two of you always found a way to be together, even if it was as dangerous as, say, climbing into a window.

A gentle hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head up to his as his beautiful hazel eyes smiled at you. It was like he was reading your thoughts when he looked at you like this, downloading everything about your day just by looking at you for a few seconds.

“Bad day?”

You nodded silently, the music pausing briefly as the song changed. Ashton paused with it, only speaking when the chorus picked up.

“C’mon, let’s just cuddle.”

Another nod and the two of you shifted, Ashton pulling back your blankets while you got up, putting the plate of food in your garbage and quickly disappearing into the bathroom to change before you turned the music off and climbed into bed with your boyfriend.

Once you were settled on your side Ash crawled in after you, wrapping an arm around you as you reached over, turning off the light in your room and settling in. You turned over to face him, his arm still around you as you moved yours to rest against his chest, his lips connecting with your forehead as you buried your face against him.

You don’t remember falling asleep but wasn’t surprised when you woke up hours later, the sounds of someone moving around your room pulling you from your sleep. You cracked your eyes open and shifted, looking at the clock on your bedside: 2:16 a.m.

Groaning quietly you sat up, rubbing at your eyes as you felt the end of your bed dip, someone sitting down and a hand resting on your leg. You looked up and met Ashton’s eyes, a small half smile on his lips as he looked at you, the moonlight pouring in from your window lighting up the room enough for you to see him.

“Run away with me.”

His words rang in the air as you looked at him, still confused from your sleep.

“What?”

“Run away with me,” he repeated, moving to be closer to you. You looked around and noticed he had packed up your duffle for you, the bag sitting under the window he had climbed in earlier, a bit of a mess around the room from him putting things in there for you. Confusion came to your face again as you met his eyes.

“Right now?” He nodded. “Ash-”

“Hear me out,” he said sweetly, voice soft as he caught your attention. “You’re always talking about how your parents are strict and overbearing. You hate Sydney and your job.” He paused, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “We always talk about starting a life together. So, why should we wait? Why not start it right now?”

The gesture wasn’t lost on you; as a hopeless romantic and dreamer at heart, you couldn’t help but feel appreciated and loved, this boy of your dreams sitting with you and pleading for you to be his forever absolutely tugging at your heart strings. You wanted to get up and throw your shoes and jacket on and leave forever with him, it didn’t matter where the destination was, it just mattered that you would have him with you forever.

But your logical part kept you rooted in the bed, all the repercussions of your actions and anxiety immediately springing to the front of your mind. You were deeply and wildly in love with Ashton, but running away together? Dropping out of school and ending up somewhere with no connections? How would you live and pay for things, how would you find a good paying job to get a home? Not to mention the fact that you’re both minors, and no doubt both of your families would be looking for you the second they found out you were gone.

You chewed on your bottom lip, Ashton’s bright smile faltering as you looked at him. Your hand squeezed his.

“Baby,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes. You felt them start to spill down your cheeks as you licked your lips. “I can’t.”

Ash’s brow furrowed, confusion reigning over his face as he sat back. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t run away with you.”

He stopped, a wave of different emotions pouring over his face as he stared at you. His eyes scanned your face as you sobbed, your gaze held by his as he tried so hard to read your mind but failed.

“Why?”

You let out a sob as he spoke, his broken heart escaping with the word as he said it. He wasn’t angry with you, his face unreadable as he just looked at you, waiting for an answer.

“I-” you choked, unable to continue as you squeezed his hand. You took a moment to collect yourself as best you could, reaching up to wipe at your face. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

The love of your life looked at you, his face crumbling before he forced himself to hide it. The new face he had on was worse than you could have anticipated, watching him shut down in front of you as his hand slipped out of yours.

“Ashton-”

He held up a hand silently, shifting to stare into the empty room. His elbows rested on his knees, his face burying into his hands as you started wringing your hands in your lap, sobs heaving in your chest as you pleaded with him.

“Ashton, please-”

He stood abruptly, moving towards the window and starting to climb out again. You caught a glimpse of his face in the moonlight, tears streaking down his face as he left the way he came.

You quickly jumped up and chased after him, grabbing his sleeve just before he got out of reach. “Ashton,” you begged, tugging him back to you. He didn’t look at you but your eyes moved to his shoulders, noticing how they shook as he silently sobbed.

“I love you. Please, don’t leave.”

He stopped for just a moment, and in your mind you thought you were okay; you imagined him coming back into the window and the two of you crying together until you fell asleep again together, waking up at the crack of dawn to say goodbye for now and seeing each other again over the weekend. The image of you peacefully sleeping against him, cuddling up right under his chin in the way he loved gave you hope, your fingers loosening around his sleeve as he seemed to lean back towards you.

Instead he gently pulled away from you, carefully finding the foot and hand holds again as he climbed down the side of your house, jumping the last couple of feet and shoving his hands in his pockets as he walked away from the house. You stood at your window, tears burning hot against your skin until you slammed the window shut and locked it, throwing yourself back into bed and burying your face in your pillow just in time to muffle a heaving sob, the sound echoing off the walls around you despite your best efforts to cover it.

The rest of the night passed with you crying, drool and salty tears mixing on your pillow case until it was soaked. As the sun rose again you started to feel numb, the dawn of a new day bringing you to your bathroom to get ready for school.

That was the last time you saw Ashton. Until now.

Present Day - July 15th, 2020

“No, that’s not how that works-“ you argued, immediately being interrupted by someone on the end of the phone call, annoyance making your eye twitch. This simple phone call had meant to last a few minutes and was now reaching the half hour mark, your feet slowly pacing back and forth as the phone pinched against your ear.

“Alright, this is what we’re going to do,” you interrupted finally, passerby giving you a strange look as they moved by you. You ignored them, focusing instead on the person on the phone. “You’re going to hold off on doing anything until I get there in a few days, and if I find out you didn’t do that, I’m going to find someone else who will. Understood?

The person on the other side was silent. “Good. Glad we had this talk.” Your thumb angrily ended the call, your feet bringing you to the corner of the closest building so you could lean up against it, head falling back against the brick as you closed your eyes and sighed.

Ever since that night in September, your life has consistently been a smooth trek up-hill, everything coming up just fine as you kept your head down. You finished school and you were accepted to Harvard Business School, but the summer before you were set to leave brought all sorts of problems; financially, you couldn’t afford to go to Harvard, even with the considerate amount of financial aid and scholarships you won, so you had to give your spot away, heart broken about turning down your top choice.

You somehow ended up at UCLA instead, one of the safety schools you had been accepted to with a full ride, and studied your heart out with a Linguistics and Education major instead. Moving to a whole different country was the biggest culture shock you have ever had, getting in more than your fair share of arguments over proper terms for certain things, but your studies and friends kept you occupied for most of the time, every single one of your friends cheering you on while you worked your tail off for your undergrad.

May came and went and June crept up on you, finals and deadlines passing as you worked harder than you ever had in your life, but nothing beat the feeling of finally walking across the stage at your graduation, shaking the hands of various administrators while your family proudly beamed from the plastic chairs set up on the lawn. Photos were taken, your friends gave you tearful hugs, and you were off, moving into your own apartment the very same day, your new landlord handing you the keys with a stern ‘congratulations’ before you opened the door and carried all your things in.

Your family stayed an extra couple days to make sure you had everything you need, another tearful goodbye at the airport following them to their gate before you finally had a chance to relax in your new home. You had a good job, you were making rent, and everything was going smoothly - until just now, the anger of the phone call still melting off of you in the hot sun as you stood up straight again, your fingers smoothing out your work shirt as you moved back into the building.

The air conditioning hit you like a ton of bricks as you moved to your desk, thanking the person manning the phones for you during that brief period as you sat down with a sigh. You still had half a day left in your shift before you were free, and deep down all you wanted to go home and lay in bed, the silence of your apartment suddenly so inviting after the events of the day.

An hour passed without incident, then another, until the door in front of you dinged open, your head lifting with your warm customer service smile on as a gaggle of men walked in the door. They were all laughing at something, one of them particularly tickled by whatever was said on the way in as he breathlessly laughed, short bleached hair covered slightly by a hoodie as he looked at another blonde, this one having earrings dangling down from both earlobes and a hat on his head. One with broad shoulders walked up to the desk, a smile on his lips as he ran a hand through his hair, him blocking your view of the other three as they waited.

“Hi, how can I help you?” You asked kindly as he got within earshot, your accent still quite thick when you spoke. The man seemed surprised but smiled nonetheless.

“Uh,” he stuttered a bit as he walked up. “5 Seconds of Summer, here for an interview today?”

You nodded, turning to the computer and confirming before looking back at the man. Something about the band name made your ears ring, a faint familiarity to it that tickled the back of your mind, something trying to nudge itself loose.

“Yup, got you right here,” you confirmed, reaching under your desk for the cold waters you kept there in a small fridge. The man turned to his friends and lifted his hand, probably gesturing them over as you set the waters on the counter in front of you.

“These are complimentary, hopefully helpful is battling the heat outside,” you said, not entirely looking at the men as they walked up to you. You turned and gestured where they were to go, giving them floor numbers before looking back with your winning smile. “Any questions?”

The first man smiled and shook his head, thanking you kindly as three of them started moving. You fully turned back, shuffling your papers around on your desk as you assumed they all left, hearing their chatter fade behind you as you returned to work.

“Y/n?”

Your heart jumped into your throat. That voice-

“Is that you?”

Without thinking your eyes traveled upwards, meeting with a pair of hazel ones that you hadn’t seen in so, so long. It took everything within you to resist the need to touch him, to pull him close and run your fingers through his hair again as your heart absolutely ached. Ashton was standing across the desk from you, shirt open slightly and sunglasses pushed to the top of his head as you just stared.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly, something desperate within you as you looked at him. He looked good, healthy, his hair a bit darker than you remember it being but loving it nonetheless. Looking at him filled a void in your heart you didn’t know existed, just the sight of him bringing you joy again, something that you hadn’t genuinely felt in years. The man in front of you was your one that got away, the only person you had dated in your life that truly left an impression.

“Ashton! Let’s go!”

The call jolted you from your thoughts, Ashton glancing towards the voice and back to you as his eyes searched your face for understanding, for anything that would give him an idea as to how and why the universe had brought you back together. He didn’t seem satisfied, his brow furrowing in confusion again as he turned to walk away.

“Wait.”

He paused, a blush on your cheeks as he met your eyes again. Embarrassed by your boldness you quickly took a piece of paper and jotted down your phone number and apartment address, folding it twice before handing it to him. You weren’t sure if he took the paper because he genuinely wanted to, or if it was a reflex from him being handed something, but you took it as a good sign anyway.

“Let’s talk. Tonight. Please.”

Silently, Ashton nodded, tucking the paper into his pocket before jogging to catch up to the other boys. You watched him go and then sat back in your chair, fighting back all the overwhelming emotions that were trying to take their place in the front of your mind. Flashes of that night came flooding back with them, your mind becoming a storm cloud of confusing thoughts and twisting tornadoes as you desperately tried to gather yourself together.

After seeing Ashton you barely made it to the end of your shift, one single text from a new number appearing on your phone within an hour after he arrived. He said he would meet you at your place after the interview, you confirming in response with radio silence after that, your anxiety skyrocketing as you drove back home, probably breaking a few traffic laws on the way.

When you got inside you set your things down and immediately started cleaning, tucking away anything that you didn’t want him to see and changing into more casual clothing. No new texts appeared on your phone screen, you desperately keeping an eye on the time as you tugged on an old UCLA shirt. Just as you were smoothing it out against yourself there was a knock, the sound startling you considerably as you hurried over to it.

A quick glance out of the peephole showed Ashton standing there, looking as lovely as ever in your limited view as you unlocked and pulled open your door.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, stepping aside so he could come in. He paused, taking you in before he slowly stepped inside, stopping just inside the doorway to take in your apartment as you closed the door.

Silence enveloped the two of you as you once again resisted the urge to touch him, wanting nothing more than to slide your arms around him and pull him close so you could rest against him again.

You cleared your throat as you moved in front of him, hugging yourself. “Um, would you like something to drink?” You asked, already moving towards the kitchen as he lifted a hand, scratching the back of his neck.

“Just some water would be nice,” he said softly, a nod being his answer as you grabbed a bottle of water from your fridge. You set it on the small table made for just you and sat down, gesturing for him to join you as your knees anxiously knocked together.

More silence fell as you looked at each other, Ashton taking the water as he just looked at you. There was tension in the air, but you couldn’t tell what kind, your fingers locking together in your lap as your thumbs pressed together.

At the same moment you both opened your mouths to speak, chuckles falling from both of your lips as his fingers tapped against the water on the table. You could see the calluses on his fingers and palm as it moved, the man shifting slightly as he faced you.

“You look good,” he said softly, smiling a bit. Your heart melted at the sight. “I, um, I didn’t know you worked and lived here. In LA, I mean.”

You smiled, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, um,” you said just as softly, your hands moving to rest on the table. “I went to UCLA. I actually just graduated from my undergraduate program last month.”

Ashton couldn’t help but beam as you spoke, the light in his eyes igniting something with you. “Wow, that’s amazing, love,” he said sweetly, eyes focused on you. “Congratulations, that’s a huge accomplishment.”

You smiled in thanks, your eyes falling to your hands as you nervously picked at your thumb. “Listen,” you said, clearing your throat a bit. “I wanted to apologize. I, um...I kind of broke your heart a few years ago, and that was really shitty of me.”

Ashton looked at you with sadness in his eyes, one hand reaching to take yours and give it a squeeze. “Sweetheart-”

“Wait,” you pleaded, eyes begging him to let you finish. He looked at you and nodded, keeping your hand in his as he ran a thumb across your knuckles. You took a deep breath before you continued, measuring your words carefully. “I know you’re going to say I have nothing to apologize for, because that’s just who you are. But I’m still wildly in love with you, Ashton.” You licked your lips, your mouth going dry as you pressed on. “I forced myself to finish school and go to uni so I could prove to myself that not running away with you at 16 was the best choice. I constantly tried to run from it, but every empty moment always had me thinking about you, and what our lives would have been like if I had agreed and had that life together like we had wanted.”

You stopped for a second, taking a breath as you felt tears prick your eyes. You swallowed them down, refusing to get emotional.

“I’m not expecting this to magically fix everything,” you said softly, your free hand resting on top of his. “I know I broke your heart and your trust, and I know I may never win either of those back, but I want a fresh start. I at least want to be friends, cause I can’t seem to escape you.”

Your final words made Ashton chuckle, the man tugging on your hand as he stood up. Confused, you met his eyes, his head tilting slightly as he indicated for you to stand with him. You did so, his arms guiding yours around his neck as his own slid around your waist, the man pulling you in for a tight hug.

The gesture brought more tears to your eyes, you fighting to hold them back until you lost, the scent of him filling your lungs just like it used to as teenagers and sending you over the edge. Your shoulders shook as you silently cried against his shoulder, his arms tightening around you as his lips moved to your ear.

“Let it out, love, it’s okay.”

His encouragement over your emotions brought you to gripping his shirt, arms locked around his neck as he carefully squatted and picked you up, wrapping your legs around him as he moved to sit on the couch, you crying in his lap as he settled back against the cushions.

It felt like hours had gone by before you calmed down, your tears staining his shirt as you finally pulled back. Ashton smiled at you sweetly, lips pulled back in his classic look as his thumbs gently brushed away your tears.

“Everything you said,” he said softly, eyes meeting yours. Now that your walls were down he finally could read you again, soaking in every ounce of you as he spoke. “I’ve felt the same. I’ve tried to find you in other people, other relationships, and it never worked out, each person just taking something from me that didn’t belong to them. I tried drowning my emotions and it only made things that much worse.” His own eyes filled with tears as he fought them back, still smiling as he pressed a kiss over your tear stained cheek. “But being here, just seeing you behind that desk...I never lost my love for you, y/n. Never.”

Sniffling, you took in his words, awestruck that the man holding your face in his hands still loved you after years of no communication. Your mind tried to make sense of it as his lips kissed your other cheek, your hands burying themselves in his shirt as his hands moved to your waist.

“Can we start over then?” You asked, your voice thick still from the tears. “I know we can’t pretend that life hasn’t happened, and we can’t go back in time and erase the past, but I want to start over with you. I want to start over with us.”

He silently nodded, squeezing your sides gently. “Of course we can. I would love that.”

Sighing in relief you sank against his chest, his hands moving to rub circles in your back as you buried yourself against him.

“This isn’t as good as running away together,” he said softly, the words pulling a laugh from you. “But this is the next best thing.”

“Oh shut up,” you teased, lightly swatting at his chest as you sat up again. He grinned, the expression making you laugh a bit again as you wiped at your face, sniffling as you set your hands in the space between the two of you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the world outside of your small apartment waiting for you both to move on, move forward, while you both sat in place, breathing each other in and enjoying it. You only moved when Ashton’s phone dinged, a text from one of his friends pulling his attention away.

He sighed, typing a response before he gently lifted your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm as he gingerly held your wrist between two fingers. “I have to go,” he said quietly, kissing your fingers. “Can I take you on a date this week? Maybe on Saturday night?”

You nodded silently, a smile tugging on your lips as he closed the gap between you, his hands moving to your hips as his lips connected with yours.

The familiar feeling was sweet and gentle, lined with desperation and need as you kissed him. Your fingers tangled in his hair again, the curls resting between your fingers as you pulled yourself closer to him, his lips parting slightly as he pulled away. Both of you were breathless and smiling, Ashton gently patting your hip as you climbed off of him reluctantly.

You walked him to the door, his hands sliding around you as he kissed you over and over again, peppering them all over your face before landing on your lips one more time. You said your goodbyes between kisses, Ashton promising over and over to take you on the best date ever until you had to force him out the door, not wanting him to be late to whatever it was he had to do as he smiled at you.

As you were closing the door he said your name again, your head poking out as he smiled at you.

“I love you,” he said simply, putting his hands in his pockets as he spoke.

You blushed, the pink tint bright against your skin as you leaned out the door, a small smile tugging at your lips as you internally melted over him.

“I love you too.”

#5 seconds of summer #5sos #ashton irwin #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin fanfiction #5sos fanfiction #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #blurbs.ai

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aenwoedbeannaa · 5 years ago

Text

A Curse Meant to Be Broken | Geralt of Rivia x Reader | Part 2

Part II: From One Monster to the Next

Warning: Implied violence/assault, nothing graphic.

Summary: The famous Geralt of Rivia has accepted a contract in your town – he will be banishing a Noonwraith from an abandoned home; your old home. But as it turns out, the wraith is not the only monster that the White Wolf promises to fight.

Word Count: 1,605

Author’s Notes: I know this is a short little chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I cannot believe that there are over 1k of you amazing people following and taking time out of your lives to read my work! Thank you so, so much. It means the world.

Hours later, you and the Witcher are in his room. Perhaps you were being slightly naïve, but you felt safe with the white-haired stranger – even if the room he was staying in was a room filled with memories that you preferred to push to the very back of your mind, where you never had to think about it.

You sit in an overstuffed chair more comfortable than your cot in the servants’ quarters, and Geralt doesn’t comment on the fact that you’ve kicked off your worn boots and are sitting with your knees tucked up against your chest, arms wrapped around your legs as if you could roll up so small that you’d disappear into the plush fabric. You are exhausted from your earlier show of emotion, so you have your head resting on your knees.

“The house, it wasn’t much, but it was everything to her.” You feel like you’ve been explaining your entire life to the man for hours now, though you cannot possibly have been. It’d taken at least an hour and a half for you to stop crying – for the memories to stop replaying in your head; making it impossible to speak or even think.

The Witcher keeps his face neutral, thankfully not looking at you with the pitying look that made you so angry. “Hmm,” he says, shifting in his seat, “That explains why she’s anchored to that area.” You nod understanding, fighting hard against the exhaustion that has settled in your bones.

“But she’s started to venture outside that area, if what Stephic says is true,” he continues almost as if he is speaking to himself, “Strange.” You look at him, a questioning look in your eyes. You had thought she was just gaining strength from having been left alone for so long. It had not crossed your mind that it was strange.

Apparently reading your thoughts by the look on your face, the Witcher looks at you. “Usually, Noonwraiths stick to one location,” he explained. “Though, they are also drawn to objects that were dear to them.”

Understanding where this conversation was going, you release your iron grip on your legs and reach up with shaking hands to unclasp the necklace. However, your hands are shaking, and your trembling fingers fumble with the clasp. It doesn’t help that you don’t even remember the last time you’d removed the piece of jewelry.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt says, looking like he means it. “I will have to destroy it, to break the curse and set her free.” He stands up, padding over the carpet and crouching down next to you, hand resting on the arm of the chair. You just nod understanding, continuing to fumble with the delicate clasp.

“Let me help you,” he says gently. You would, in most cases, have the urge to slap the man away; insist upon the fact that you do not need help and that you have done a decent job of caring for yourself for the last few years. However, for whatever strange reason, you trust him, and so you drop your hands and shift in the chair so that he is behind you.

He brushes your hair aside with surprisingly gentle fingers and reaches for the clasp, undoing it easily, his fingers brushing your neck ever so slightly. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin, and you find yourself wishing for more. At the same time, you wonder what the hell is wrong with you. Looking for comfort in the touch of a stranger was not something you ordinarily did. It wasn’t smart, and it only could lead to hurt. And besides – what could a world-famous monster hunter want in a girl like you in a place like this?

“I know it may not be a comfort,” the Witcher speaks softly, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck, “But I will lift the curse trapping your mother here – I promise you that.”

You shift in your seat again, turning so you are facing him, your faces just inches apart. “It is a comfort,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands, because looking into the Witcher amber eyes was making you feel a bit too much of some emotion you could not understand. But truly, it is. You know that she is dead, and that there was no bringing her back. It would be foolish to think something like that were even possible. The most you could hope for was someone to break the curse – even if you never saw her again. Knowing that she would no longer be stuck in this backwater town would have to be enough.

You take a steadying breath, finally wrenching your eyes from your hands and back to meet the Witcher’s. Despite your exhaustion, there is some trace of adrenaline still pumping through your veins. “I’m coming with you.”

Geralt studies you for a moment before shaking his head. “I know you want to help your mother, but I cannot allow that,” he says. “Noonwraiths can be particularly dangerous for those they are tied to.” Of course, you’d expected that response, but you have no intention of accepting it.

You shake your head with a rueful smile. “I’ve much more to be afraid of than a Noonwraith,” you tell him, one hand gesturing vaguely behind you towards the door of the room. Yes – you were scared when walking about town in the middle of the day, but you were more scared of the man you were stuck serving. And, though you would not admit this to the Witcher, you did not find the idea of dying all that unpleasant. Better to die setting your mother free than at the hands of Stephic the next time he gets truly angry with you.

Besides, you’d thought of a plan from the moment Stephic posted the contract. Under your cot, beneath an old blanket, you had an old rucksack packed with your few possessions. Once you knew that your mother was set free, there would be nothing truly holding you to this place. There would be no better time to slip out than when Stephic was distracted, waiting to see if the Witcher was successful. She would be long gone before she even noticed her absence. You’d find a place to hide; you had to.

Geralt pulls you from your thoughts when he finally speaks again. “But the wraith—she’s tied to you by blood.” Quite unexpectedly, he takes your and, tracing your knuckles with the pad of his thumb. You suck in a sharp breath – not because the feeling is unpleasant, but because it is, well, too pleasant.

He looks down at your hand for a moment before finally looking back up, eyes meeting yours. “Being nearby could kill you, Y/N.”

His comment earns another rueful smile from you as you shake your head. “As if I’d fare better here!” You know that you should not be lashing out at this man, this person who, unlike nearly everyone you’d come into contact within the last years, treated you with kindness. And yet, here you were, lashing out.

And yet, Geralt of Rivia does not react in anger but with several moments of silence.

“Running from one monster to another is not the answer,” he says quietly, peering over toward the closed and locked door.

You chew your bottom lip nervously, knowing that despite how very badly you want to leave, the Witcher is right. And still, you shake your head. “All of life is running from one monster to another!”

The Witcher frowns, releasing your hand, which falls like dead weight back into your lap. You feel quite on the verge of crying again, but you are determined not to. You’d shown enough weakness in the last hours – there was no need to show more.

“You’re wrong.” The Witcher finally speaks, slowly standing up, but not moving away from the chair. “The world is full of monsters, but not exclusively so.”

You look up at him through damp lashes, cursing the tears welling up in your eyes. You want to retort, but you have no faith in your ability to hold it together if you attempt to speak. So, you say nothing, waiting for him to speak again.

“You want to escape this place?” he finally asks.

“More than I can say,” you say, voice cracking, “I haven’t got any gold, but once I’m out of here, I can find a job, I can pay you… I will just need a bit of time, please, Sir, I—”

Geralt silences you by taking your hand once more, shaking his head. For a moment, your heart sinks – he is going to say no. Witchers do not work for free, and you’ve got nothing to give him. But before you can get up and leave, he tugs on your hand, pulling you up from your seat and toward him.

“First, call me Geralt,” he says, a smile tugging at the very corners of his lips. “And second, I will not accept gold from you; but I will help you leave this place. I am more concerned with monsters than money.”

Without much thought, you throw your arms around him once more, burying your face in his chest so that the soft “Thank you,” is muffed. And his arms are around you as well, one pressed gently against your head and the other wrapped around your shoulders.

“It’s going to be ok,” he says, squeezing you a bit tighter.

For the first time in as long as you can remember, you feel as if it actually will be.

Taglist: @earthtokace, @divaroze, @fairytale07, @geeksareunique, @ jesseswartzwelder, @kingnaizx

@they-call-me-thewildrose, @bitcheswithbrokenhearts, @mystriee, @hi-there-x, @queenie-b-, @pantrashtic, @ivvitm1109, @hecatemacbeth7, @whatiswrongwithpeople, @ayamenimthiriel, @itshaleighyo7, @divaroze, @geeksareunique, @fairytale07, @evyiione, @jesseswartzwelder, @earthtokace

#the witcher fanfiction #the witcher #fanfiction #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #story: a curse meant to be broken #part 2 #geralt fanfiction

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