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nocturn-warrior · 7 months ago

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Fall onto him like a pillow

Alucard x reader

Summary: Alucard feels sad and you decide to chill him up

Rating: fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: oral (male receiving), mentions of traumas, feeding (in a non kinky way), body worship (male receiving), kinda sub Alucard, reader's gender is not specified but i wrote this thinking about a female

This fic was inspired by @kundool 's adorable fanart

sorry if it has a bad writting, i literally lost all my progress because tumblr didn't save it and posted the incomplete fanfic.

It was a normal fall grey sort of day. You and Alucard had bought some groceries at the village. Even though the villagers insisted in giving their products freely to you two after all you and your friends have done for them, Alucard felt it was not fair to simply accept the groceries they put they worked so hard during the year. So Alucard and you would always bring them old itens that were only accumulating mold and memories.

All was well, so far. He greeted the old ladies, played with the orphans who became your children at heart and happilly chose the groceries in the wooden boxes.

But comming back home as you were sniffling a wild rose you have picked from a bush and rambling about funny events and gossips the old ladies have told you during your brief statement, you noticed Alucard stood stoic and silent, just answering your words with quick chuckles, not continuing the conversation and keeping his head bowed down

Usually he would connect your thoughts with his, adding something quirky or an accid comment about the situation, but not today.

"Adrian? Is everything alright?"

You ask, slowing your pace and making him look at you. He takes some seconds to answer a languid "yes, i am just mentally tired". He wasn't alright, you knew. You don't insist, though. Just follow your way towards the castle, trying to pull a true smile from his face but the results are the same.

The wide doors of the castle open as you two approach and close once you are inside. Alucard's behavior is more of the same; he helps you to place the groceries at the kitchen, but remains silent. A deep breath leaves his mouth before he turns towards the door.

"I am going to read a bit, my dear."

Although you wanted to comfort him, respecting Alucard's alone moments was something you tried your best to do. He isn't a child, after all. But you can't resist to the urge of comforting your lover.

"Adrian, here..."

You say, placing the wild rose you've collected behind his ear. You caress his chin:

"If you need me, i am here, alright?"

He smiles understandably before desappearing in the dark hallways of your home way to your chambers.

The hours pass by. You distract yourself sewing some torn spots in your clothes you don't even notice sun is starting to set. You must have dozed off.

Immediatly, your mind goes to Alucard. You fear his isolation was a form of asking for your comfort amd you just left him alone with his thoughts.

Quickly climbing up the almost infinite stairs, you reach your bedroom and before you could even thump your finger onto the door, you hear that unmistakable sniffling you've heard so many times before.

He hated when you saw him like that, no matter if you have already done it one million times. But you had to comfort him.

The dhampir who was knealing down in front of the bed, face buried in the plush cushion, has a little jumpscare when you sudden open the door and quickly wipes away the tears with the loose silk of his shirt. As if a simple motion could hide he was crying for hours.

"Aw, Adrian my love..."

You rush to him, knealing down by his side and placing caressing his back softly as he tries to put himself together. Adrian didn't know why exactly he was crying so no words could possibly leave his throat. It was only a deep, rooted feeling of dispair and grief.

All he did was turn to you, swallowing his tears before they could drown him. In moments like these, all he craved was your touch. You open your arms to him and Adrian quickly attaches himself onto your body, head resting against your chest as he sniffles looking at an empty spot of the room.

While caressing his back in soothing motions like a mother calming down a sobbing baby, you have an idea of how you could calm him down: cooking his favorite treat; strawberry muffins filled with jam, and a nice cup of chamomille tea.

You wait until he has completly calmed down so you could pull off from the hug and prepare the little surprise for your lover.

"You wet all my shirt with your tears, my love. Do you have a water dam behind those pretty eyes of yours?"

You joke to make sure he is completly fine and you can feel the vibrations of his chuckling as he is still with his head against your bosom. Slowly you pull off and tilt up his chin:

"Take some bath, my love. Dress a comfortable nightgown, get cozy in bed and wait for me. I will prepare something that will chill you up"

Curiously, Alucard nods his head, looking at you with those dewy amber eyes which long lashes are glued due to the tears. He already imagines what you are going to do and he would love to help you with the baking, but you insist for him to rest.

You want to spoil him that night in every way possible.

Alucard takes some minutes to put himself together looking at a spot in the room and envying it's emptiness. He wishes he could rest his mind just for a second, forget all of those thoughts that crushed him. But following your sweet order, the dhampir heads to the bathing room. He fills up the tub with huge buckets and relaxes in it.

All the while you are preparing the dough of the muffins, looking in an old book of recipes that belonged to Lisa. Your lover and you always look for an advice in this tome, cooking together is one of your favorite activities.

Fourty minutes later, Alucard is already settled nicely on bed. His hair is wet and loose, he wears his usual white nightgown and hugs your pillow, sniffling it to pretend this is your body. That way, tears wouldn't come back.

Checking out the muffins, you smile widely seeing they are already baked, and with a cooking glove, you pick up the sweet treats. The scent was so good Alucard could feel it from your room.

You place the small cakes in a plate. Four of them: two for you, two for Alucard. And while you wait for them to cool up a bit, you prepare the chamomille tea.

The door delicatedly opens and Alucard's eyes light up seeing you enter holding the plate. If he was crying you couldn't tell, but some little sniffles leave his nose before he sits up properly.

In the moment he smoothly moves, you can see your lover is not wearing underwears, which causes tingles in your groin, but you try to focus on pampering him with you cooking.

"Here"

You sit by his side, brushing his hair behind his ear and placing the plate on top of a pillow. Slowly, you cut a piece of the muffin, the hot strawberry jam drips from it, and takes a forkful towards Alucard's mouth.

The man softly hums, his eyes squinting together adorably as he appreciates the bite. You clean the jam from the corner of his lips and lick it from your finger.

"Do you like it?"

Alucard nods, his expression is no longer miserable as the one he had hours before, though his face is still puffy from crying.

"Thank you for doing these things to me even when i don't deserve"

He says with a sad smile. You hate to see Adrian put himself down like this. It took you so much time to make him forgive himself and perceive his own qualities that every breakdown felt like it all was starting again. Once he swallowed the bite, you gently shove another forkful into his mouth.

“You deserve this and so much more.”

You smile, seeing his cute surprised expression. Leaning your head onto his shoulder, you watch Alucard grab the book he was reading before you arrived and the two of you share the muffins while reading out loud, switching the narrator from page to page.

Alucard gives the delicious muffin a last bite and finishes drinking the chamomile tea. Leaving a pleased relaxed sigh, he leaves the empty cup and the book over the nightstand. Your heart instantly flutters, seeing how your love appreciated your little spoiling.

Through the thin silk of his nightshirt, you could see the pink tone of his cock. You itched to, instead of attaching your lips onto the strawberry treat, suck on his shaft until his so much sweeter seed spilled into your mouth. You wanted to drive him mad with pleasure.

“How do you feel now?”

You ask, finishing your tea. He was visibly feeling better now, though his face was still puffy from the previous crying and his eyes were still red. The dhampir chuckles, softly patting his toned abdomen:

��Full.”

“Show me, then.”

You grin and Adrian knows exactly your game, but he plays is obliviously, slowly rising up the nightshirt and showing his almost imperceptibly distended torso along with that pretty thin waist of his and of course, his pink flushed cock which head rested on the plush bed.

God, you wanted to worship every inch of his body: from his collar, his chest, to his godly abs. how could a being be so magnificently, ethereally beautiful? Alucard looked like the incarnation of Apollo and you wanted to praise that body of his so hard, you couldn’t contain your arousal now.

Your fingers traced around his nipples, travelling down to his stomach. Alucard's heartbeat increased as you felt onto him like a pillow, pinned him down on the bed and started kissing from his neck to down his bellybutton, touching and praising every inch of his skin.

Stopping in there, you looked down at his blushy face, eyes begging for you to slid lower and lower. But you wanted to hear the words coming from his sweet lips:

"Love, please"

He whimpers and you smirk, scooting down until you are knealing but your higher body is over his groin, his cock juts on your chest, hard and urging to be sucked.

When he felt the heat of your mouth meeting his cock, Adrian gripped onto the she sheets. His golden hair was spread on the bed like sunlight in a lake. You begin slowly, twirling your tongue around the pink head as your hand caressed his balls.

Then, with half of the length into your mouth, you sucked it vigorously, making beautiful moans come from Alucard's throat. He is seeing heaven and squirms to the sight of it.

You hold his hips on the bed as he squirms in pleasure and feels the dash of seed climbing up his urethra, the movements you make are sensual but passionated, and all the while you look into his eyes.

His warm sperm fills up your taste buds as Alucard leaves one last but sluttiest moan. You release his cock with an audible popping sound, sitting up on bed and peering down at him with a smirk.

Just seeing your beloved in a trance of pleasure makes you wet. He is receiving the treatment he deserves. A tear of pleasure slids down his cheek as his chest rises and falls.

Putting himself together, Alucard sits up in a swift, smooth motion. He smiles gidly at you, dressing his nightwear again.

You reach out to cup his heated cheeks, they were no longer red because of crying, but because of love. You place a wet kiss on his skin, his long eyelashes flutter like the wings of a butterfly.

Adrian then snuggles onto your bosom as your back rests on the soft pillows against the bedframe. Your hand sinks under his hair, massaging his scalp in soothing, delicated movements as he relaxes to your touch, blushing at your praises.

That way, you two fall asleep for that night. And when sadness knocks on his door, you are willing to pamper him again, no matter in what way it is.

#adrian tepes imagine #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes x fem!reader #dom reader #alucard x f!reader #alucard x reader #alucard x dom!reader #castlevania x reader

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riddle-me-im-sirius · 1 year ago

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Shattered Reflection

Miguel o'hara x Darling (reader)

NOT PROOF READ ( i continued writting this at 3am so the grammar and spelling might be wrong)

No use of y/n. I think?

Warning: None so far but (this fic might show a little obsessed miguel as the story goes on cause why not)

🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸

In the bustling spider society's headquarter, Jessica Drew a.k.a Spider-Woman was embroiled in a heated conversation with their boss, Spider-Man 2099, A.K.A Miguel O'Hara. She was explaining the importance of teamwork and the need for a new recruit. The idea wasn't sitting well with Miguel though, and as usual, he was being stubbornly cold about it.

"The team's doing fine as it is, Jessica. We don't need a newbie slowing us down," Miguel stated, his arms folded across his chest. But before Jessica could respond, the door slid open, and in walked a figure that would soon change Miguel's perspective on 'newbies'.

There you were, (Y/N), the newest recruit. Your eyes sparkled with excitement and curiosity. The moment you walked in, your energy seemed to light up the room, it was as if you carried the sun in your personality. You were practically radiating positivity and enthusiasm.

"Guys, meet, our new teammate," Jessica introduced her, a proud smile on her face.

"Hello everyone" You said radiating with positiveness, while miguel was glaring dagger at jess.

Because how could she recruit someone when he already declined alot of times, moreover the newbie looked like she couldn't even kill a bug, how would she even help save the world when she looked so innocent.

'This newbie is gonna give me a headache'

Oh but how wrong miguel was..

The next few days were filled with his usual cold demeanor towards her. He kept his conversations short, his responses was curt. It was clear that he was keeping his distance.

But No matter how cold or distant he was, she would always greet him with a warm smile. Every morning, every meeting, every training session, your positivity was a constant. It was like a ray of sunshine that couldn't be dimmed.

As days turned into weeks, something in Miguel began to change. Every time he saw you, he couldn't help but notice that radiant smile of yours. It was infectious. And no matter how much he tried to keep his icy walls up, they seemed to be melting bit by bit.

One day, after a particularly grueling training session, Miguel found himself sitting alone in the mess hall. He was nursing a cup of coffee when you walked in. As usual, you greeted him with a beaming smile and a cheerful "Good Morning."

Miguel, for the first time, found himself returning the greeting with a small but genuine smile. You looked surprised, but your smile grew even wider.

And from then on Things started to change, Miguel found himself gravitating toward her sunny personality, he would start tolerating her personality, and teach her a thing or two but that did not mean miguel like her,no, he was just teaching the newbie how to survive when saving the world.

Right?

But this did not go unoticed by jess

"Soo changed your mind about having a new recruit?"

And miguel grumbled in response

"What do you want jess" he muttered

" she's a darling you know"

"Who?"

"You know who im talking about, Don't be so grump to her, she is doing her best, plus who knows maybe you guys can be acquinted"

"Don't talk nonsense i don't want to deal with an irritating person"

She's not irritating

"Whatever you say miguel, But you know she really is trying hard to be close to you, she even asked what was your favorute meal. She's a darling miguel. Don't be harsh on her"

🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸

Im having a writer block while doing this since its already 3:42 am. I hope you guys enjoyed

Should i continue this? I mean this is just half way through the plot😭

Let me know what you guys think!

And also please let me know what you guys think about the story!! You can leave your thoughts on my inbox, if u want😊♡

#miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel

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chlorinewriter · 10 months ago

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Good and bad news on the Mishanks Holy Heathens fic for priest Mihawk & heathen Shanks. The good news is that I've more than tripled my wordcount from last time I posted about it and things are still going pretty strong. It's been fun!

The bad news is that I realized I can't have my cake and eat it, too. Not with this fic. I wanted a one-shot that was sexy and tense and still emotionally gut-wrenching but also put Mihawk and Shanks in a different beginning relationship than the original show/manga/etc and the format was just not working for that. Turns out jamming three in-depth flashbacks into a fight scene is sorta disruptive, lol. So! A short chaptered fic it shall be. I'm thinking 4 or 5 chapters. I have waaaay more of the back end written than the front, so it'll be a bit before I have the first chapter out. That said, another snippet before I post the first chapter sometime in the next week. You could say the Mihawk and Shanks first meeting does not quite go spectacularly:

Shanks accepts the roll of paper from Mihawk’s hand, eyebrow jumping and other hand remaining on his sword’s hilt. “What’s this?” he asks, already slipping the meticulously tied ribbon from the paper and unfurling it.

“An official writ,” Mihawk replies, and though he is standing easily, Yoru still on his back, the Redeemer is watchful. His faith is imbued through his body, hardening skin and muscles, and the limited foresight it grants him hovers at the edges of his awareness. There are too many possibilities right now for any one to stick out. That doesn't really matter. There will only be two that come to fruition.

At some point in time this heathen is going to start running, or he's going to fight. They always do. He’s almost surprised the man hadn’t taken off when he’d seen the distinctive black and red robes Mihawk is wearing.

Probably a fight, then.

Lips moving soundlessly as he scans the paper, nonetheless Shanks appears to have no other trouble reading the writ and Mihawk is mildly surprised. Many of the godless he’s been sent after couldn’t even read their own condemnations. With the long scars over his one eye, a salt and sweat stained white shirt, and a weathered blue cloak far from immaculate, Shanks looks like he should be part of that group of grimy illiterates, but... He carries himself differently.

Occasionally the infidel pauses, and slowly his eyebrows drop into a furrow. After a few moments, Shanks looks up. And there is no dread in his face when he says, “I’m being denounced by the Holy First?”

“It is a Writ of Denouncement, yes.” Though the information is on the paper, there’s something searching in the other man’s gaze that makes Mihawk restless, and he adds, “You are called to the Holy See for judgement.”

“And you’re gonna accompany me there?” Shanks smiles, and from someone else it would have been mirthless. Not so with him. The grin actually seems amused, even warm. Mihawk inclines his head stiffly, his instincts warring with the discomfiting charisma of the other man as Shanks continues. “And I’ll – what? Be given a fair and just trial in the eyes of your Lord?”

“Your guilt is decided,” Mihawk retorts sharply, and it is not as easy to deliver the script as it usually is in the face of that grin. “Our Lord,” extra emphasis on our, as if Mihawk has anything to prove, “knows your wicked heart. What remains is your punishment.”

“Ah. Right. My wicked heart.” Shanks checks the paper, looks back up. “So what is the punishment, for, ah...” He reads off the list, ironic in his studiousness. “Consorting with demons, misleading the populace, decrying the Church, accosting Church officials, challenging Church doctrine, encouraging heretical tenets, displaying heretical uses of faith, waylaying shipments meant for Church officials, throwing spoiled produce at–”

“It is not for me to decide,” Mihawk interrupts. He forgot how long the list was. It also had not occurred to him when he read it in the Holy See that there were no murders or similarly violent offenses on the list. Though he seems to remember the priest who had been splattered with the fruit claiming it had been done with the enthusiasm of a most pernicious assault. That had caused quite a stir in the cathedral, a few years ago.

He doesn’t think he’s been called to track down – and execute upon resistance – a heretic such as this before. Not that it matters. It doesn’t. Such are the orders of the Lord.

Mihawk banishes the thoughts creeping unformed in the corners of his mind, reaches back to grip Yoru with deliberate and blatant threat.

“I will see you before the Holy First. One way or another.”

Shanks’ hand tightens around the writ, crumpling the paper, and though there is still no fear in his direct gaze, he takes a few steps back. Mihawk's faith-imbued eyes can see something bright beginning to coalesce in the pirate's chest, and with a jarring mix of butcher-knife interest and muted disappointment Mihawk realizes this is going exactly where he knew it would.

Somehow, for just a moment, he'd thought...

“I don’t want to fight you, Redeemer Mihawk,” Shanks says quietly.

Yoru makes a shivery, beautiful peal as he pulls it from its sheathe, and the familiar sound loosens the tightness in Mihawk's chest. “Wise,” he replies, arching the sword one–handed over his head in a movement as natural as it is graceful. “Fighting any Redeemer is ill-advised.”

The blade ends up pointed unwaveringly at the heathen, but Shanks is not looking at Yoru. He still has that searching expression on his face, demanding and expectant as his eyes catch at Mihawk’s. “Not the Redeemers. I just don’t want to fight you."

#mishanks #mihawk #shanks #one piece au #one piece #my fic

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astxrwar · 11 months ago

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wrapped in red

SUMMARY: You buy Beck a record for his collection on a whim. It's not a Christmas present, really. The fact that you give it to him on Christmas is irrelevant.

Future-fic oneshot in TTB!verse, courtesy of me writing this non-chronologically.

RATING: Teen

WORD COUNT: 4.5K

CONTENT: Christmas fluff. I cut the scene right before the angst because this is a present to Me And My Brainworms and also the three people who care about TTB!verse. Merry Christmas!!!

It’s an impulse decision, really.

The two-hour-drive home from seeing family brings you past Beck’s place before you reach your house. It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s nine-thirty at night and you’ve used most of your critical thinking skills navigating the chaos that is family holidays when you come up on the turn you’d have to take off of the main artery through town to get to his apartment. There’s all of a handful of seconds to attempt to think it through, and what you do end up thinking is mostly fuck it, whatever, and then you hit your blinker and veer off onto the side street.

It’s not until you’ve parked and gotten to the elevator and are at long last standing still, not moving at all, walking or driving, that you start to have doubts. The little red lights on the panel above the door flash to two and then three and then the elevator car stops and the doors open and you have another few seconds to consider just hitting the ground floor button and going home, going to sleep in your own bed for the first time in a week and texting him tomorrow, but—

But that defeats the purpose , an entirely too sentimental part of your brain decries, It’s Christmas today .

And— yeah.

Yeah.

There’s this kind of nervous energy gathering somewhere in your chest as you come up on his door, staticky and frantic and buzzing, pressing up to your throat. You have to steel yourself to even knock, breathe deep and set your jaw and prepare for— well. Anything. Beck isn’t predictable, even now; he hates surprises just in general, and he’d explicitly and profusely expressed disdain and even outright derision for the holiday writ large. There is a nonzero chance he could take this as, like, an insult. Or a manipulation attempt. Or some other entirely negative thing you couldn’t distort your perception enough to even begin to anticipate.

You stand there for at least an entire minute before you work up the courage to knock.

The tension you feel in all of your limbs right down to your fingertips is the strongest it’s been in months, almost as bad as it was the first time you ever came here, or maybe— maybe even worse. There’s an edge to it now that feels nauseous and clammy and disorienting, like you might actually be about to make a massive fucking mistake, a grievous and unfixable error, fuck up in some different and much more terrible way. That part— the miscalculating— that’s not new. What is new is the feeling like it might matter, if you do, in ways unrelated to your pride.

There’s a rustle of movement on the other side of the door and you imagine the jolt that you feel at the sound must have done something awful and entirely unhealthy to your blood pressure, and then the lock turns and there’s your heart rate, too, your pulse thudding somewhere in your throat and your brain suddenly and unhelpfully deciding it’s now convinced this was a bad decision.

Beck opens the door and the feeling doesn’t go away, but something else starts up at the sight of him; you realize dumbly that you haven’t seen him once since the semester ended all the way back in early December, and between his being in the last stages of finalizing his most recent research for publication and a presentation down in San Diego and you just dealing with regular run-of-the-mill finals week shit, you’d really not been alone besides the commute for— what, a month?

And then, even more dumbly, you realize you’d missed him.

He doesn’t say anything to you, just stands there, staring, expression impassive but not displeased, eyebrows raised, just a little; he’s just in jeans and a tee-shirt and that’s kind of another strange shock to your nervous system, because you’d seen him really only in work clothes for the better part of a month, too.

“Hi,” you say eloquently. You’re holding the record up to your chest with your arms sort of wrapped around it, probably too tight, and you have to remind yourself to relax before you fucking break it, or something; that would suck.

“Hi,” he repeats, a little bit mocking, his mouth curving up just slightly at the corners. It’s probably embarrassing how fucking fast even just that tamps down a lot of your anxiety, has you feeling a lot more like smiling and a lot less like you’re exhausted and socially drained beyond recognition and grumpy as hell from being stuck in a car for two hours, but you just don’t care.

“Are you busy?” you say eventually, bouncing a little on the balls of your feet, that nervousness manageable, now, but not gone.

That gets this disbelieving almost-laugh, a sharp exhale through his nose and a more obviously raised eyebrow, “No,” he replies, like it’s a stupid question.

He steps to the side and gestures for you to come in; he doesn’t move, when you do, except to close the door behind you, and you’re painfully aware of how close he is, how your shoulder nearly touches his chest as you balance on one foot and then the other to work off both your boots

“I thought you were with your family,” he says, his tone mild and expression unreadable.

“I was,” you stack your boots in the tray next to his and follow him when he turns and moves deeper into the apartment; it looks the same as ever, impeccably organized and display-catalog clean, darkened except for the light on in the foyer and one tableside lamp in the living room. “I left after dinner, I just got back.”

He pauses at the edge of the kitchen by the bar counter to shoot you this odd look that you can’t parse. “Have you even been home yet?”

“Well–“ you furrow your brow and prod at the inside of your cheek with your tongue and in no way attempt to manage your expression with whatever extremely limited amount of social awareness you still have access to after the elaborate and draining performance that is Family Holiday Gatherings, “No, I was on the way, and I–“ you trail off with a wordless shrug, feeling incredibly awkward again.

He does actually smile at that, one of those effortlessly smug and self-assured ones that used to annoy you and still kind of does, just less in a caustic and frustrated way and more just— fond. “And you what,” he says, resting his weight back on the counter and appraising you with this amused warmth in his eyes; he’s so relaxed, and it’s fucking distracting. He looks good. He always looks good. “Just missed me that much, honey?”

“Actually—“ you sidestep the question because it’s safer than attempting outright denial when it’s almost kind of halfway true, and you instead just bite the bullet and say, “Actually, I have something. For you. That I wanted to— give you.”

That languid openness to his posture becomes something neutral and impenetrable so fast that it would be disconcerting, if it were anyone else. “Told you, I don’t do Christmas.”

His expression is unreadable again, and he folds his arms over his chest, and you have to tap into some of that deep-seated and instinctual stubbornness and reactive spite to keep yourself from just saying nevermind.

“It’s not a Christmas present,” you reply, defensive. “And look,” you’re still holding the record close to your chest, half-hidden in the draping edges of your unzipped and too-big winter coat, and you unfold your arms and hold it out flat in front of you. “It’s not even wrapped. So it’s not any type of present at all, Christmas or otherwise.”

Beck raises an eyebrow and stares at you for a long moment, before his eyes flick down to your outstretched hands.

“I was just at the store doing shopping for my family,” you say, talking before you even really mean to, that flighty and awkward nervousness driving you to fill the stretch of seemingly endless silence, “And I saw it, and you said once that you like Jeff Buckley because he’s a phenomenal guitar player, and so I just figured— I mean, I didn’t think I saw it in your collection. And I thought you might— like it. Like to— have it.”

He looks up at you again and it’s too dark in the kitchen for you to be able to tell if there’s warmth in his expression or if you’re just hoping for it; there’s not anything outwardly negative, at least, though that really doesn’t do anything to ease that anxiety, clammy and slimy and cold like a chunk of half-thawed dirt in your stomach, the kind that’ll sometimes get pulled up by the snowplows and just melts into gross muddy slush on the side of the road.

He takes the record from your hands; it’s still wrapped in that thin sheet of plastic, and it glints a little as it moves, catching the low light from the living room.

“I don’t do gifts, either,” he says finally.

“Okay, well, it’s not a gift. I’m not— gifting you anything, I’m just— giving it to you.” You can feel your expression furrowing deeper into a frown, and you reach your arms out again, motioning for it, “If you don’t want it, that’s fine, I have the receipt, I can just return it—“

“You know, you’re not supposed to try to take it back,” he says, and there— it’s obvious enough that you can see it, now, the faint beginnings of a smile, and something in your chest does this kind of traitorous and horrible flip at the sight of it, all that tension melting out of you, frost in sight of the sun. “Your etiquette is abysmal, honey. Frankly, it’s an affront to the spirit of the holiday.”

You can’t manage to hold onto your frustration at all of his stupid and entirely predictable mind games for more than a handful of seconds and you’re smiling a lot wider than you mean to be, “I can’t believe you were able to say any of that with a straight face.”

He scoffs and turns to set the record on the countertop, “Yes you can.”

Beck doesn’t say thank you. You don’t really expect him to, and it doesn’t even matter to you, anyways; your brain had responded with this terrible jolt of what felt like pure unadulterated dopamine just at the fact that he’d wanted to keep it at all, and for all that you know that’s probably a bad thing to be feeling, it still doesn’t register as one.

No, it feels—

It feels good.

He’s still turned, hands on the countertop, and he drums his fingers against the stone surface for a moment with this little pensive frown and then he looks at you, shrewd and searching, then finally says with this deeply aggrieved sigh, “All right, come on,” and turns back towards the foyer.

You stare after him for a long moment, uncomprehending. “What?”

He glances back at you with this indulgent and long-suffering expression, like he’s reluctantly entertaining a child. “I’m taking you somewhere, come on.”

“What— I literally just took my boots off,” you say, plaintive, still walking back over to the entry hallway anyways, nudging one of them in the shoe rack with your toe.

“So?”

“So now I’ve gotta untie them and retie them, and it’s tedious .”

“This would be a non-issue if you’d untie them in the first place to take them off, like you’re supposed to,” he says, patronizing, prodding at you as he shrugs on his coat, and you know you must be doing a terrible job at suppressing your smile as you crouch to lace your boots up, but you just can’t bring yourself to care.

“Where are we going?” you ask, once then and then again as he locks the door behind you, okay but really where are we going, and then again in the elevator, come on just tell me where until he finally levels you with this vaguely frustrated look.

“Nowhere, if you don’t shut the fuck up and stop asking,” he says, snappish and irritable, and you laugh aloud at that without even really meaning to.

“Okay, so—“

“If you ask again I’m turning around.”

It shouldn’t be funny, probably, because you can’t tell if he’s serious or if this is one of those illusory and affected bits, but it is, maybe just because you’re really tired or maybe because you’ve missed him, Beck, the person, and this is just how he is. Not even pleasant, kind of an asshole, and it seems almost impossible to try to remember how it fucking bothered you, before, when now really the only things you feel are this kind of exasperated sense of affection and an entirely nonsensical desire to laugh. it’s bizarre and it’s bizarrely endearing that he can manage to be this abrasive on fucking Christmas, of all days, and that just makes something inside of you feel warm and bright and remarkably fucking fond.

“I was going to ask why, not where,” you say, stifling the sound of another laugh you fail to entirely repress in the sleeve of your coat as if it’s a yawn; he notices, you can tell by the brief glance that he shoots over, his eyes breaking from the road for a second and his expression shifting to something more exasperated than actually cross. “If that’s allowed. Why are we going somewhere?”

He frowns and says nothing for a moment and then flicks on his blinker to take a turn down this residential road you’ve never been on before. “Because you can’t follow fucking directions,” he says, and it’s probably supposed to be acerbic but it doesn’t quite get there.

You open your mouth to say something back probably along the lines of okay what does that even mean, except then you round this bend and the scene outside— which had mostly just been this murky field of gray-black broken up by the darker shapes of trees and houses and occasional glow of lights still on in the windows and on porches— the sky takes on this sort of whitish glow, on the horizon, getting brighter as you get closer to cresting the top of this gently sloping hill, and then—

“Oh,” you say, when you do, “Oh, wow.”

It’s got to be somebody’s yard, just another large, sparsely-wooded property with a house somewhere on it like the dozens of others you’d passed on the street, but it’s like the inhabitants had gone out and purchased a fucking neighborhood’s worth of Christmas lights— there are these long strings of those classic teardrop-shaped bulbs in red and green and white wound around the trunks of trees and then up through the branches, but then there’s other ones in purples and blues and oranges and yellows. there’s so many of those complicated little light-up images, too, scenes of reindeer hitched to sleighs and scattered around the yard that flash in a way that’s supposed to make it look like they’re moving, and there’s this big glittering Santa Claus over the tiny iced-over pond in the center of the yard and that’s gently flickering Merry Christmas overhead, glowing smiling snowmen and mismatched arrangements of presents and gently swaying snowflakes and even this toy train on a track that winds out and around the edges of the property. it’s all so fucking disorganized and overdone and bright and probably ridiculously fucking expensive and it’s just—

“You’re such a child,” he says, with another irritated and entirely overdramatic sigh; you’re not really paying attention, turned to look before he drives too far past it, but what he does instead is pull over to the side of the road and unbuckle his seatbelt and crack the car door and look at you, expectant and still vaguely aggrieved.

“Oh,” you say again. “Are— is this allowed?”

“Yes.” Beck gives you another one of those looks that’s meant to be insulting, like you’re being especially stupid. He pockets his keys and gets out of the car and you follow him, catching up before he crosses the street.

“The town had to put up signs to designate parking,” tells you, gesturing in the distance to a post further up the road, the contents facing oncoming cars and turned away from you, “These people have been doing this for years, drawing crowds and creating all this annoying fucking rush-hour traffic and— “ he shoves you out into the road to cross it when there’s no cars coming in either direction and rolls his eyes when you glare back halfheartedly, “—and giving me migraines.”

There’s hardly anybody here, now— nine-thirty on Christmas Day, the majority of people are probably overfull and half-asleep with blood alcohol contents on the wrong side of the limit to be driving— and you hurry over the salt-stained asphalt to the edge of the lawn, where there’s a strip of muddy grass to stand in, the rest of the yard cordoned off with rope.

“This must be insanely expensive,” you say absently, when he comes to stand next to you.

His expression twists in distaste. “I’m sure it is,” he says.

You’re looking at the lights, watching the train work its way back around the track, and when it rounds the bend you realize it must have a shitty little speaker system inside because it makes these tinny chugging noises that you can hear as it gets closer, and you laugh aloud, delighted. “Oh my god, that’s so cute.”

Beck makes this derisive sound under his breath; you can see him, out of the corner of your eye, and he’s watching you. “Yeah, of course you’d like this stupid shit,” he says, still with that sort of long-suffering undertone, like this entire ordeal is exhausting; but there’s something else, too, beneath that.

You realize with this pang of uncomfortable warmth that this was intentional— he wasn’t going to drive past, he’d meant to do this, and this was it. The point. He’d brought you here on purpose.

The lights are beautiful, in a kind of haphazard and vaguely gauche way, reminds you of how the holidays used to feel when you were a little kid, like they had a little bit of magic to them, even with all of the chaos, and you’re almost positive he doesn’t share that opinion in any way. So the idea that he must have seen this and just thought of you— It makes something in your chest twinge and ache like a stress fracture, or like a strand of muscle pulled just a little bit too far.

“Wow,” you say, after a while, your voice wavering just a tiny bit, “I thought you were actually incapable of ever just, like— doing something nice. Unprompted.”

He scoffs. “Unprompted. You got me a fucking Christmas present, even when I said that I wasn't going to get you anything, and now I’m — how the fuck was I supposed to level with that.”

You frown. “You don’t have to level with anything, it wasn’t a Christmas present.”

“It was, and now we’re not even, and it’s—“ he sucks in a breath through his teeth, “— annoying. ”

“Even,” you repeat, momentarily stunned, “That’s not— oh my god. It wasn’t like that. And it wasn’t a Christmas present, I didn’t even wrap—“

“It’s not a Christmas present because it’s not wrapped,” he cuts you off, bordering on outright ridicule in a way that doesn’t even feel mean, just makes you want to laugh. “You are so bizarrely fucking pedantic. you bought me a present, and it’s Christmas— you can’t talk your way out of that.”

“What, so, that was a Christmas present and this— isn’t?”

“It’s somebody else’s lights, it’s not anything,” he says, dismissive, “There’s no actual gift involved, honey.”

“Oh my god,” you tell him, rolling your eyes, “I’m not getting into an argument about the fucking scientific definition of what constitutes a gift—“

“Yeah, and that’s because you’d be wrong, obviously it’s—“

“- like there’s a consensus on what qualifies—“

“-- yes, it’s anything that can be physically given to someone, according to—“

“According to who? You?” Your volume has raised a not-insignificant amount and your words are laden with exasperation and he’s just as unaffected as ever.

“Yes,” he says, entirely too smug. “According to me.”

You let out this deeply aggrieved sigh, your breath pouring out in these little clouds of steam that glint multicolored in the glow of the lights. “Now who’s being fucking pedantic,” you tell him, and you try to keep yourself from smiling, but you only half-succeed. “I’ve given you two outs, and you refuse to take either of them.”

Beck says nothing for a moment. There’s this upturn to his mouth and this lightness to his expression; amusement, just a little bit. He looks back out on the lights and shoves his hands in his coat pockets and shrugs, effortlessly casual.

“It irritates you, that I won’t,” he says, after a minute— an observation, a statement, not a question.

A muscle ticks in your jaw. He hums, considering, still just studying you. “You don’t want me to feel like I owe you anything,” he continues, and this— it’s phrased like a statement, but it doesn’t register as one.

“No,” you say, rocking forwards onto your toes and then back again, the grass beneath your feet soggy and muddied by the runoff from the street, the top layer kept melted by the road salt and giving slightly until your heels make contact with the frozen ground underneath. “No, I just— saw something I thought you might like. You’re my friend, that’s allowed. It’s not transactional, but even if it was, you— this is—“ you gesture out at the landscape, the glow of the lights bright enough that your eyes can’t adjust to see past the edges of the display, everything outside the yard just this amorphous and unfocused gray. “You did the same thing.”

“Except I didn’t have to pay for this, honey, and you—“

“Oh my god,” you reply, exasperated, “If you want to run a fucking tab— I don’t pay you back for groceries, or gas, and I didn’t pay for anything when I came with you in November.“

“Well,” he says, like he’s considering it, and then he moves closer to you and his mouth twitches a little, “When you put it like that, now it kind of sounds like you’re the one who owes me.”

He’s got that wolfish and serrated-edged smile like he does when he’s walked you backwards into another stupid trap, and that’s it, really, you’re done, and you don’t even do a convincing job of scowling as you turn pointedly away, back to looking at the lights. “Fuck off, “ you grumble, “I can’t believe I really thought you felt bad.”

That grin takes on a satisfied slant that you can recognize even just looking at him as you are, sidelong, in glances, and you’re struck out of nowhere by how badly you want to kiss him.

There’s no snow, but it’s still really fucking cold, and when the wind picks up you shiver and shove your hands in your pockets.

“Zip your coat,” he tells you. “You always get cold and you still never zip your coat, I don’t know what you expect to happen.”

“You’re so—“ You do zip your coat. “— irritating.”

“And yet here you are,” his mouth twitches again, another almost-smile like maybe he can’t help it, “So either I’m not all that irritating or you have some kind of– dysfunctional masochistic impulse.”

“The second one,” you say, not missing a beat.

Beck grins, and when he moves towards you your pulse does something ridiculous and inexplicable like this is still somehow new, at all, him touching you and drawing you into him and his arms around you, his chin on the top of your head— it’s not fucking new, and it’s been a year, it’s been over a year— and it feels like something inside of you is losing essential structural integrity like your ribs and your muscles and your organs are made of wax, weak and warm and melting.

You lean into him and rest your cheek against his chest and look out over his arm at the lights, your vision slowly slipping out of focus until the garlands wrapped around the pine trees and the little flashing reindeer and the circling toy train as it rounds the track again all blur into this shimmering mass of color, and when you breathe in the air is warmed by his body heat and everything smells like him, spearmint and camphor and just like him, the person, and it’s—

“I missed you,” you say, without meaning to.

Something happens to his posture and his breathing that’s different enough for some subconscious pattern-seeking part of your brain to notice, but so miniscule and so brief that you can’t even describe what it was. “Aw,” he says, that oversweetened condescension in his voice, “That’s cute, honey.”

“Shut up,” you reply, and then, with an almost-subconscious sense of urgency that feels a lot like fucking damage control that the more complex parts of your brain actively refuse to acknowledge, “I missed my friends, and you’re my friend, and— I got to see everybody else before I left, except you. I haven’t really seen you since—“

“Since the end of the semester,” he muses quietly; there’s a gust of wind as another car hurtles past, and you shiver from the chill; he adjusts his arms around you, drawing you closer, and you burrow deeper into his coat gratefully. He’s always so fucking warm.

“Not even,” you say, after a minute. “More like Thanksgiving break.”

He huffs out a breath that might have been a laugh. On top of the tallest pine tree, a golden star twinkles on-off, on-off; you wonder idly how the hell these people even got that thing all the way up there. “I saw you almost every day for three weeks after that.”

And he’s right, technically, because you’d seen each other in passing and in the lab and he’d still sometimes give you rides if your schedules aligned so that you didn’t have to walk all the way from the student commuter lot in the cold. But you’d both been so busy, then, and half the time there were other people around and even when you were alone it was only for these brief and limited moments— it wasn’t the same or even really comparable to how it had been for those few days in November, or even just back when either of you had the time for you to be spending nights. And then the semester was over and he was swept up in finishing everything for the debut of his latest research and then he was out in San Diego and then by the time he got back you’d already left for your family’s place for a week. It’s not like you’d ever really stopped talking, but you’d still missed it. Him. Hadn’t even realized, really, until you’d seen him, hadn’t understood the scope of it until now.

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, after a while, “But— I dunno, we were both so busy.”

He just hums in response, the sound lost to the noises from traffic in the distance and the whistle of the wind as it shakes the bare, skeletal limbs of trees and sways the strings of lights across the branches, but you can feel it still, vibrating in your head with the way his chin is resting on it.

You turn your head from the lights until all you can see is the flat, monotone black of the fabric of his coat; you’re buffeted by a rush of air as another car barrels past, the wind strong enough to have you shivering, again.

“All right,” he says, “All right, let’s go, before one of those idiots sideswipes my car.”

He says that, but he doesn’t move.

“Yeah,” you say, “Okay," but you don’t move, either.

#quentin beck x reader #ties that bind #mysterio x reader

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totaldramafan-lauri · 4 months ago

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uhm hi!, I just want to say I love your're work and how you write things!. It makes me really want to try writing for myself... When i found your account on Tumblr i was a little shy to talk to you since i was amaze by you're writing, charactization and how it makes me so happy at times! I hope you don't quit on this fic because i really love Golden cheese. There are so many little content of my Goddess and I was really happy when i found your work in ao3...!

I love you're other works too and dang the smut on those chapters is fire, i love it! especially when i favor affogato too! You're writting is so incredible it makes me cry! in a good way ofc!!!, your writing is impressive. Please keep it going and don't quit.. Im rooting for you!! thank you for making this fic because i was tired searching for a fic that fits my standards and you're fic was. just so right for me i started to read your other works!.. i wish you can gain more papolarity to be honest!! you deserved it because of how fatastic and beautiful your charactization are! wish you the best on luck!! and dont overdue it because you're health matters and that's the soppose top priority and hoping you are well!

Can't wait for the two endings on Chapter 10 and 11! i wonder if its sad and happy endings? oh well! i'll take it if its sad and i was curious if one of the ending take on the route of the Golden cheese kingdom being destroyed :( (Golden cheese didn't deserve getting her kingdom nuked so much) if it does though I will cry like a baby because i know its going to be sad if its your writing!! in a good way!

I was a little worried that you have given up on the fic but i was happy you uploaded! i was kicking, giggling that you uploaded the chapter 9! it was worth the 2 month wait on how much we are making out with the goddess!

when i read Chapter 9, i was so happy that i can see the reader finally getting what they deserved for a long long time!, I wonder what her Radiance thoughts of us in her perspective but I know they see us cute when how many times different people tell us how cute we are, including the friends that we, reader met!...

And when i was reading on the middle part on the chapter 9, where we tried to be pretty to her Radiance, dress up nicely and it indeed as a fail, but... h-holy crap i didn't know her Radiance can get GET THAT AGGRESSIVE and i was trembling and blushing, i was so flustered!!! I rarely blsuh on fics but these, these was an exception that i was happy to be blushing about.

I Love how aggressive her Radiance get when she found us so precious! I was losing alot of breath on that part, it took me a 30 minute break to stop blushing so c-crazily!... I love love your're writing on her Radiance!!!! I Love it!!! it makes me cry so much that i finally found a good read on her Radiance! I was crying at some point at the Reader trauma because of how much suffered.. but her Radiance comforted the reader and i was in so much thoughts on how i wish that could be me in real life..

if its a little rude of me, pls don't respond.. when her Radiance and the Reader is making out, isn't there a 50/50 chance someone could be walking pass our room hearing the Reader and her Radiance making out?

Im a simp, to much of a simp that i keep getting back and forth, back and forth on the chapter 9 because of how good the writing was! It was so long and long and i love it!!! i love it so much

I don't know how to log in on Ao3 so im writing this to you on Tumblr:) sorry for my long blabbering or if there are word mistakes ;)..

(S-so, so, so sorry for the late reply, aaaaaaaa- I-I was away from my computer yesterday @////@)

HOLY CR- *falls over* DTFHFDJHDGJFDJN!?!?!!? O///////O

C-comment about fic- LONG comment about fic- T-two in a row- What- What-!?!!?!?

I-I.....WHAT!?!!? *cough* O-OK- hhhhhhhhi!?!!?

U-uh.....I-I'm really really glad you enjoy my writing! L-like I said before, I'm trying my best to finish this thing, but I ask you to be patient with me, cuz I'm a perfectionist and I want these chapters to be as good as I can get them...! I especially don't wanna rush the ending....and NO, I'm not spoiling ANYTHING about the ending! I-I'm not taking your bait! You just gotta wait and see! X/////P

Trust me, a lotta chapter 9 made me, like....internally scream.....and I was also SUPER worried about posting that chapter cuz of it....Worried if I was going overboard with the *cough* indulgence, and if that'll make people uncomfy at all.....I-I know that it's X Reader and that kinda stuff is the FUN of X Reader, but I dunno, I was stressing out over if I should tone the steamy stuff down- ESPECIALLY the bathroom scene, a-and what happens in that part...S-so to hear that that was the scene that effected you so strongly makes me feel relieved....like, yay, it did its job.....? X/////D

A-and to answer your question, uh....no, that's not gonna happen in the fic, sorry. B-but if you wanna know how I'd write it if it did happen, it'd be this: She would LITERALLY take pride in that. X/////D Like....she would just keep going. She does NOT care who listens. Everyone around her worships her and wouldn't dare do anything to oppose her, so why stop? She knows they're not gonna interrupt her. Heck, she's probably AIMING to be heard, since she encourages the reader to be as loud as they can be while she's taking them. The more noise, the better...It's something that f-feeds her ego, heh......>///////> I-if they're just walking past without being noticed, on the other hand, then nothing's gonna come of that either....(I-I'm thinking way too hard about a hypothetical scenario IT'S NOT HAPPENING OK THIS WAS JUST FOR FUN BFBHNFSHF >//////<)

Th-thanks so much again! I-I don't mind the rambling! I'm a rambler myself, and hearing people talk about specific parts they like is my favorite thing, trust me! ^//////^ O-oh, and thanks for checking out my other stuff, too! (I'm still very attached to Naivete, it's my baby haha) As for the comment about....w-wanting more popularity for me....uh....th-thanks, but I'm not sure how I'd deal with being popular....I-I'd rather not shove my writing in people's faces.....Anyone who stumbles upon my stuff should only read it if they WANNA....(Also keep in mind that I'm an adult so I want only adults to read my work, and that kinda narrows my intended audience a bit ^^;)

I-I'm aiming to get the next chapter done either by the end of July or in early August, so.....i-if I go over, feel free to yell at me, I guess....? H-happy to provide food for you, fellow simp......!

#people actually talking to me #muom talk

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dells-bells · 2 years ago

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Hello ! 😁

So I’m kinda obsessed with your star wars fic and I was wondering if you were planning on writting more soon? (Not to stress you or anything, I’m just genuinely curious)

Also do you have perhaps any WIP or solmething like that (with Obi-wan being the one in trouble. Or maybe Anakin AND Obi-wan) that you wouldn’t mind sharing? If not, it’s alright of course

Babes! 🥺 I’m so touched that you enjoy my fic! Thank you for sharing that with me 🫂 I am planning to write more; life has just gotten in the way, but I am still heavily obsessed with Qui-Gon Jinn and his two disaster children

I do have something 👀

I believe the intention with this one (I started it a month ago so details are a bit fuzzy!) is Qui-Gon was just returning from a day away and got home a little earlier than expected:

When Qui-Gon Jinn opened the door to his quarters, the absolute last thing he expected to see was the sight that greeted him this particular evening. Evidently, the occupants of his apartment were equally shocked, as a sudden hush fell over the room, and they all looked at him with mingled expressions of joy, horror, shock, and dismay.

Qui-Gon took in the sight of the four children in front of him, unsure whether he ought to sigh or chuckle at the state of them. Each one of them was covered head to toe in dripping mud; it was as endearing to witness as it was a complete and utter mess spoiling the floors of his apartment.

He could hardly recognize them through the mud, but their Force signatures were unmistakable, and there was no doubt in his mind that if he were to catch four people dripping mud in his apartment, it would be none other than Obi-Wan, Anakin, Quinlan, and Aayla.

The air in the room was so still he was almost certain they were all holding their breaths.

“My,” he said mildly, stepping further into the apartment as the door quietly shut behind him.

Obi-Wan and Quinlan looked to each other as Anakin looked to them and Aayla attempted to look anywhere else, meeting no one’s gaze.

The urge to laugh was getting stronger.

“Dare I ask?”

“Master, it’s not what it looks like,” Obi-Wan began.

Qui-Gon raised his brow, quite curious as to how it could be anything but what it looked like.

“We were only… you see, what happened was… well, what I mean to say is…”

Quinlan flourished his muddy hand, loose droplets splattering before him. “You are not seeing this right now.”

Obi-Wan elbowed him hard in the side, the mud squelching. “You idiot!”

“I’m joking!” Quinlan yelped. “I wouldn't really try to mind trick your master!”

Again, Qui-Gon supplied mentally, recalling a time in Quinlan and Obi-Wan’s early youth when, desperate to not receive a well-earned spanking for mischief they’d gotten into, Quinlan had tried doing just that.

“I’ll tell you what, young ones,” Qui-Gon spoke calmly, looking at each one of them in turn, holding his gaze on them even after their eyes darted away in guilt and embarrassment, “we can discuss this matter in detail after you all have bathed. Aayla, you take the refresher first. Boys, each of you find a corner until it’s your turn.”

“The corner?” Anakin whined in dismay.

“Yes, little one,” Qui-Gon affirmed. “Quinlan, I am going to step out to fetch you and your padawan fresh clothes from your apartment down the hall. I expect each of you to be exactly where you have been told to be when I return. Have I made that expectation clear?”

He received four quiet “Yes, Masters”. He nodded.

“Very well. I will return momentarily.”

Only when he was on the other side of the door, alone in the privacy of the deserted hallway, did Qui-Gon allow himself to laugh aloud.

He would treasure the precious memory of the sight of the four of them dripping mud for quite some time.

There you have it! I have a few spanktember fics sitting in the dusty drafts folders that I may one day return to, but I hope to be able to post something again soon! I miss writing these guys 💙

#dells answers #dells writes #qui gon jinn and his two disaster children #wip snip

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embossross · 1 year ago

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Let’s get started by the start : HEY ROSS HOW ARE YOU 🤩🤩 ??? I'm so happy to read you after all this time !! I had to admit that for a few weeks, i thougt you have abandonned the writting (no pressure here, you know it). How’s the new job ?? I’ve missed you !

For once, this won't be a live-reaction, I'm on vacation and still in bed, and I was so engrossed in my reading that I didn't take the time to grab a second screen.

My poor girl, at first, and this is most certainly intentional on your part, I thought she already knew about the videos and was just leaving the country like « no, this is too much for me, bye lol 🫡 » but then I understood this need to no longer exist and indeed, what could be better than an airport ? Which is ambivalent, because your identity is meticulously controlled there, and at the same time, it's often where you find the biggest crowds of anonymous people, idk if you know what I mean.

Takashi.. when I think I felt bad for that guy.. lol I hope someone (Shuji) will make him suffer like he makes Doc suffer.

Poor thing.. the two « men in her life » are vengeful bastards.

Her mental breakdown when Hanma wanted to take her home was incredible, so relatable. I think if I'd had a handbag, I'd probably have attacked him with it.

And Hanma.. Oh Hanma, I have to admit that even if I'd have attacked him, and even if I would like him dead, I think I'd still have ended up following him, because he'd be the last constant in my life. But the suicide threat is so much « her » too, and so much more logical. Who'd want that raving lunatic Hanma Shuji as their only marker (except me, lol)?

So now what can happen to her ? To them ? I'm worried but so excited to find out !!

By the way, are you prioritizing FHMTH before moving on to another fic or were you just indulging us, given the suspense of the last chapter ?

See youuuu 💕💕

awww thank you so much! i was pretty iffy on this one, so i'm glad you liked it 🥹🥹🥹 my job has been great! it's not even that busy. it just has completely changed my schedule and i haven't built in good writing times, so i've slowed down a lot. i'm so close to the finished line for this one, and i vow i will finish no matter what.

and on that note, yep i am prioritizing fhmty! we're in the middle of the final arc, and i want to stick close to it and see my vision finally all come together!

i love the way you describe the feeling of being in an airport! and i know exactly what you mean. i've been doing some travel for work and i realized it was the perfect liminal space as reader hovers on the precipice of a decision. they're just neat tbh. and i am so glad you thought she was skipping out of town! i structured the start of the chapter that way on purpose to trick you!!! i love when stuff works!

thank you for liking the breakdown at the end. it's honestly the part of the chapter i'm most on the fence about. i worried it lacked subtlety, so it's a relief that it was cathartic to readers :)

anyway you are so absolutely kind and i hope you have a fantastic time on vacation!!!

#thank you 💗💗💗#asks

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aloneatpeace · 1 year ago

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Hello there so I have questions about my fic two fic actually I was writting the bts fan fic and i apologise for hand I have no experience in writing what so ever . And the member are real right they're real people, it's not like when I write fic Derek Hale or sam Winchester they are fictional character right.

So I've been writing Apocalyptic world new chapter and it is set in decades in future and the reader is female but i do not mentioning the name , age , hair colour, eye colour , skin colour or body type or nationality this is for everyone you get it right.

As said I'm new and some of the fic I saw the word. 'Hyung' i know the meaning and older brother I got it from goggle and further 'unnie' 'nonna' wait there is one more and 'oppa'

Okey back to the matter I saw an article type of thingy where someone said bts fanfic are whitewashed or something i don't understand it or clearly remember it (i have the memory span of dory sorry for that).

And I thought is that a problem? If it is am i also doing it unintentionally? I don't know and Kim namjoon Kim seokjin min yoongi Jung hoseok park jimin Kim taehyung Jeon jungkook are real person right and I'm writing a fic with the. As characters but it doesn't have anything do with the real person.

Apocalyptic world taken place when the world is hit with nuke and solar flare and zombie and all that stuff going on and the world started again from new system and stuff and bunch of psychotic scientists trying to find cure by lock teens up and plotting all kind of tests .

So the wicked have children all over the world in name research and resuce they put to maze wiped their memory .

Take that in i thought maybe i shouldn't add 'hyung or 'unine' or 'Noona' or 'oppa ' and taking that as they were all same age so i didn't find any problem with it

But when I tried to write on new chapter of Fall of Empire. Which is set in historical period of time but it not accurate or real pure fiction( i hated studying history in class because i always mess up the years and numerous time I had to rewrite and huge as essay it still gives me nightmares.) So my question is should I add that all I mean no disrespect to any of them or anyone. again I want the reader inserted as I said before not mentioning the name , age , hair colour, eye colour , skin colour or body type or nationality.

For me fanfic of any character have been a safe space where I know nothing could hurt me and I have my comfort character with me as sad as that I'm not embarassed to admit and I know there is people out there like me and I want you to enjoy your reading time.

And also I'm so so sorry for not updating any of my fic I am trying trust me one moment I have the stroy plot line in my mind but the moment i sit down to write nothing comes and worried about my exam and i haven't covered the syllabus yet so I'm sorry for not updating I will update as soon as I can . .

And thank for all the interaction with my fic not just my bts fic but all my fic i appreciate your efforts and thank you.

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lxmine · 2 years ago

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Hi!! I loves your last fan fic (the one with capitano, dottore, and itto) and I was hoping I could request the same one but with childe, scara, Kaeya, and Al haitham? Widyhchs your fanfic made me giggle LMFAO

❝i know i really shouldnt but… ❞ + childe, scara, kaeya, al haitham

+. part i

+. crack, slight suggestive (al haitham’s), scaramouche is wanderer and not a fatui harbinger, lower cased letters, strong language at scaramouche’s (i just know he’s got a bad mouth) and childe’s (he’s being an annoying ass and reader has anger issues)

+. summary ; again, you wanted to have just a little touch of their chest / you accidentally but you enjoyed it tho 👀 touch their chest / seeing them bare and obv looking at their chest

+. A/N yes because yes. scara is now a wanderer here alrr i love the idea of him having someone as his companion lmao def not bcuz im madly inlove with him or anything thank you for the request nonny! this is probably my longest lmao i have so many things in my drafts that i’ll probably post soon ;)

al haitham

the two of you sre studying at the akademiya, at the very back of the library because he wanted peace and quiet while he studied.

he noticed your eyes looking at his face and then into his chest which made his brows raise. “what is it?” he asks closing his book.

you cleared your throat and your lips formed a smug smirk. he sighed shaking his head. he already knows youre gonna say skmething obnoxiously cheesy already, he regreted asking not really

“did i ever tell you that your tiddies are so big, it’s distracting?” you leaned into the table closer to your already annoyed boyfriend. “why were you staring at it in first place?” he raised a brow not sparing you a glance.

“aw c’mon! lemme sleep on em tonight! i’m sure kaveh wouldn’t mind me sleeping over!” you once again gave him a smirk, lowering his book with your index finger.

“he wont.” “see!? so i ca-“ “but i sure would. get better grades, i’ll let you sleep on the same bed with me.”

he says sternly and going back onto reading his book, you groaned and grabbed a pen to start writting. giving him one last determined glare. “i’ll do it no matter what! you watch me.”

now haitham looks at your papers with a smirk before placing them on the table. tapping against it while he looks down at your crying face. “haitham, just please!”

“you failed, do better next time.” he kisses your cheeks before standing up to go the kitchen and make you something to eat.

kaeya

it really was an accident! you didnt mean to!

the knights of favonius are celebrating two of the knights’ engagement and you happen to bump into the cavalry captain who happens to be holding a glass of wine.

now he sits in his office half bare, waiting for you to come back with his change of clothes from master diluc.

he’s quite disappointed, it’s his favorite attire after all.

and he also feels bad about making you do an errand for him.

he was just about to walk out the door to check if you have arrived when you appeared in front of the door, holding his change of clothes.

“captain! i’ve got your change of… clothes…” cheeks red, looking straight into his chest.

you’re literally face to face with him, and the fact you have a small crush in your superior made it more embarrassing. a smirk crept up to his face.

making you look at him with his index finger “my eyes are up here, love.” he chuckles seeing the cute expression on your face, lets just say the captain has taken interest in you ever since you’ve joined the knights.

he leans in close to your ear, making your face much more red that it already “can i have my change of clothes now, or do you want to watch me put it on?” he whispers.

slowly nodding, like he put some spell on you to agree on whatever he says. he never fails to make anyone nervous, even a stare is enough to make you vulnerable and submit to him.

quickly realizing what you just did, you pushed his change of clothes against his chest, feeling his muscles a little. “i’m sorry captain! i wasn’t thinking straight!” you apologized

sweating even though the night is cold. he chuckled ruffling your hair. “i’m just playing with you. would you mind waiting for me? i want you to be my dance for tonight.” he smiles.

who are you to decline such an angelic face right?

wanderer

being the wanderer’s companion is fun.

you get to tease him, he’s annoying but so were you. so the two of you are even.

“shorty, im hungryyyy” you whined, catching up to the indigo haired male who only scoffed as the two of you walked the wilderness.

“didn’t you just eat a damn apple, you greedy wench?” he glares at you but you just shrugged as a response. He groans to stop in-front of an apple tree, which luckily has many apples in.

“go on, get your own damn food.” he rolls his eyes crossing his arms to watch you just stand there and look up. “what? do you want me to get it for you too?”

“well you can basically fly so wh-“ “hell no.” the two of you just stared st each other blankly for a good minute when you held his hand, which caught him off guard. making him stand under the nearest tree branch. “the fu-“

“do your hand like this” you gestured him to intertwine his hands together and hold it down. “stand still, okay?” you whispered against his ear as a tease so he would follow.

with a blush, he scoffed. “hah, how dare you use me as you- ouch!” he winced as soon as you stepped on his hand. reaching the sturdy branch and climbing on it to grab as many apples as possible so the two of you could eat on the way.

“wanderer, catch me ok!” you warned, he just looked up at you with wide eyes as you jumped on him, making the two of you fall onto the ground. “what the hell!?” “dummy i told you to catch me!”

the apples are scattered around the ground with you on-top of him surprisingly you leaned on his chest feeling him. “wow twinky, i didnt think you’d manage to get these broad chest.” you smirked running your hands through his chest.

his face was red and he just stared at you for a few seconds before realizing what position the two of you are in and pushing you off him. “what are you!? a pervert!?” he sits up looking away.

you laughed at his reaction and reached out to pinch his cheeks. “shut up, you looked dazed while i touched you, you know.” you just gave him a smirk before standing up to gather your apples.

childe

the two of you are running away from a bunch of treasure hoarders while childe laughs his ass off, and you trying to get him to stop and just hide because your legs felt like they’re about to fall.

“god damnnit you told we we’re going fishing!” you grabbed his shirt trying to catch up to him while the hoarders is far behind you but you could still hear them screaming in anger.

why dont the two of you just fight them, right? well, childe didn’t ‘feel’ like murdering anyone so he thought “why not toy with them? drive them angry to make ‘em wanna kill the both of us. one who gets caught is the loser.”

“yeah, but i told you what i wanna do before we left!” “i didnt fucking sign up for this!” you slapped his arm so hard he stopped. you smirked not daring to wait for him “get lost! loser!” you shouted getting a head of him. of course he isn’t gonna let that slide.

“oh ho now we’re talking!” he says running up to catch up with you who is now carefully trying to cross a narrow bridge. “hey~” he smolders when you looked at him, you quickly regretted what you did because you know he’s onto something you wont like.

“stop! i was kidding!” you begged when he stepped on the bridge, the lake water rushing below the two of you. “what? i haven't done anything!” he chuckles walking over to you. “hey comrade, wanna go for a swim?” he smirks holding you by the waist and jumping on to the lake with you screaming.

“what the fuck!? you damn asshole!” you said as soon as you got up from the water. you glared at him who is stretching his arms. his upper body visible through his shirt, you could see the outline of his abs, his muscles, his…

“you like what you see huh, comrade? if you wanted to touch you just say so.” he smirks leaning closer to your face to give you a peck which caught you off guard. “what the heck!? ajax we’re literally co-workers!” you slapped his arm, moving away from him with a blush.

“from what i know, being in a relationship with any of the harbingers isnt prohibited. and i know you’re into me too. so, what will it be?” he smiles following you and leaning his chin on your head from behind.

yes as u can see this is rushed LMAO IMSORRYYYYY, AND THANK U FOR THE 50 FOLLOWS I RLLY APPRECIATE IT HOMIES ILY GUYS SM <333 anyway, stay safe and hydrated, take care of your mental and physical health I LOVE YOU <3

MASTERLIST

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inkblot-inc · 2 years ago

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I don't know know if you would consider it an au, but Back in Step is one of my favorite fics. I recently read What We've Lost and I loved how you brought in even more context to the dynamic between Strange and the Reader, the reader and Christine, and even the reader and Wanda.

You made me glad Strange dies btw

I think I figured out something, and I wanna know if it was intentional: when the reader starts staying at Wanda’s cabin with her she never comes in contact with the darkhold, but they start feeling more "malice" toward their memories of Christine and they almost get corrupted the longer the reader is there. Even after reader gets captured that hatred continues to build until we get to Back in Step. I just want to know if that's the dark hold's influence or not?

Sorry this got a bit long

I also love all your other writing 😁

Be still my heart-

First of all: I LOVE long asks bud, never apologize for that ☺️

I consider all of the things I've written so far to be AUs, I dunno about anyone else, but as soon as it diverges from cannon it can be considered as such. Anyway-

I'm glad you loved TBBIS and What We've Lost, it was definitely fun to write and think about!

Having the reader's dynamic with Strange to be this sort of one sided jealousy and even hatred for what the other has (even if it is mainly Strange's jealousy toward Reader) is something I wanted to bring attention to. He literally did take everything from Reader and left them with nothing. Even worse, expected them to just move along now that he "had the upper hand". He knows he was in the wrong, he knows what he did was fucked up, and that's what makes him so hateable in this universe

And his bitchass caused the snap...

The Reader and Christine are complex. And part of me wanted to take the time to write out how they were together in more scenes, but the difference in tonality just wouldn't fit in there in my opinion. I thought it'd be too jarring. But Christine and Reader really did love each other. They'd been together for years before the snap, and had just gotten engaged ,timeline wise, by the end of DS1. Getting over Reader was not an easy thing for Christine to do, having though they died for five years. Stephen just placed himself in a position where Christine would cling to him and in that vulnerability, wiggle his way back into her heart. Christine and Strange were always complicated and things never seemed to workout, but the Reader was a sure thing and she genuinely loved her. Despite the shock amd anguish of Christine moving on, Reader does still love her and more than that, they care for her. The Reader is eventually able to acknowledge the circumstances of things and can't really blame Christine for finding someone else in the event that they "died". Christine being happy with someone else pales in comparison to Christine being happy with Stephen Strange specifically.

Again, his bitchass caused the snap...

On a fundamental level, the Reader and Wanda's friendship started with them finding kindred spirits in one another. As two peope who have quite literally lost everything that mattered to them, I definitely felt the need to show their interactions as emotionally traumatised besties just trying to do their best and find some sort of normalcy in their lives.

And finally, the Darkhold.

I'm so glad you caught this buddy you don't even know! What you've been thinking is spot on. The Reader was being effected by the Darkhold the longer they were in the cabin and they were still corrupted by it leading to TBBIS! Now the thing is, the Reader hasn't been constantly in contact with the Darkhold or even read it like Wanda has, so the malice growing in them could be considered equal parts Darkhold influence and the Reader's own hatred building up and coming to a head. The darkhold changes you forever once your directly exposed to it, but that line may get a little blurry when you're only talking about close proximity...

I'm glad you've enjoyed what I've written, and hopefully you'll like what I put out in the future as well bud 😊!

#jc inked asks #i'm not even gonna lie this made my heart so full to answer #back in step #what we’ve lost

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thesoftanon · 2 years ago

Text

The disk of my mind resents your heart - Mango x Green

okay, I know what you're thinking-

BUT!

this fic came to me whie I was sleeping. I played my spotify on shuffle and "Hola" by miranda starte playing, I woke up in cold sweat and I have been writting this fic since 3AM because I couldn't let it go.

Anyways enjoy the fic!

TW: use of alcohol, middly detailed making out

"Ugh, are you for real? Purple I love you as much as a friend can love but you can't ask me to-" green was about to complain once again, not quite ready to forgive mango after everything he had done.

"GREEN! PLEASE!" Purpled begged "He's not that bad! He is trying to change for the better with a therapist and everything! Please… I can't lose him too when he's trying to fix thing" there was a deeper bond than what everyone thought between purple and mango "I just- I'm not asking you to forgive him right away, I'm just asking you to give him a chance"

"Fine… but I won't like it" green finally agreed. What a foolish mistake.

…

"I'm bored" Mango had to listen for the fifth time in a row, trying to keep calm and stay civil

"We could-"

"No, I don't wanna" green didn't lift their eyes their phone

"You didn't even listen to me!"

"I don't need to!" Mango took a deep breath, getting up to get something from his chest. Green stared at him curiously, but didn't say anything.

"Take a picture, it last longer" Mango catched them staring "If you're not willing to talk or do anything with me might as well play some music at least, I don't like silence" he explained as he put a disk in the jukebox and the melody of Hola by Miranda started playing.

"Huh, didn't take you for a Spanish guy"

"Que se supone que significa eso?" Mango raised an eyebrow at that, green just shrugged, not sure about what mango just said. The taller stick just rolled his eyes, going back to sit.

"Quiero conocerte, cambiarías un poquito de mi suerte?" Mango sang softly, tapping his foot at the rhythm of the music "Sigue la corriente, el impulso de tu piel nunca te miente~"

Out of his inventory mango took out some of his special bottles, offering one to green. They reluctantly took it and drank a bit, it tasted like berries with something a little bitter but sweet overall… It was pretty nice and soon enough they had finished.

They could hear mango chuckle in the background "easy there, you don't wanna get drunk so easily" he taunted to which green scoffed

"I know my limits and this ain't it!"

…

Green wasn't really drunk but he was tipsy enough to act different as his more collected self.

The same song from the start started playing again, and Mango stood up

"Hola que tal, ¿cómo te va?" He offered his hand to green, an invitation to dance "qué frase más vulgar… con la que me voy a presentar~"

The shorter stick figure didn't know if they blushed out of the alcohol in their veins or something they wouldn't admit yet but they were too drunk to care, so they took his hand.

"EL DISCO DE MI MENTE SE RESIENTE CON TU CORAZÓN!" Mango danced silly but happy, a part of him green didn't know yet. Green danced along, making a party only for the two of them.

But thanks to their drunk state it was a matter of time before green stumbled with themself and feel on top mango

"¡El disco de tu corazón! ¡El disco de tu corazón!"

They were so close they could feel each other's breaths, mango looked up to green only to see his stare back, and despite his better judgment he looked down to green's lips. Green mimicked.

"¿No ves que es necesario terminar en una habitación? ¡Invítame a tu habitación! ¡Invítame a tu invitación!"

It was so close, keeping it together was hard for both of them, and green wasn't strong enough to stop what was going to happen.

(Un)Luckily, Mango was a strong and arrogant bitch.

"Hey, I knew you liked me but this is a bit too sudden don't you think?" He smiled smugly despite his growing blush. Green shoved him down and got up, blushing a darker hue of their color.

"W-WHA- FUCK OFF!" They blushed even harder as something warm inside his belly started to form hearing a genuine happy laugh of mango. Green decided it loathing.

"Wait-wait- tehehe… I'm not making fun of you I swear!" That was the last thing green could hear as they left with a slam.

He was drunk, he would just forget about it, right?

…

No, he was not drunk enough to just forget.

In fact, he thought about it every night. Without a fail, they couldn't help but wonder what would have happen if mango hadn't been a bitch and-

Hold up.

W H A T.

He was not supposed to feel like this! They were not supposed to wonder if mango's soft lips tasted as sweet as they seem, or how they would feel against their chapped ones.

This was becoming a growing problem given that green couldn't help but being an embarrassed ass whenever mango was near, now even second was wondering why green hated mango's guts so much, resulting in more meetings that ended with mango's arrogant smile and green's pissed face.

But all those meetings had their results, and green couldn't stop themself from staring.

Staring at mango with his own music skills that amazed them, staring at how weirdly cute was whenever mango got mad but contained himself because he was trying to get better at it, staring in anger as Jacob flirted once again with mango, staring at his relaxed face when no one was looking, staring at incredibly unique moments of genuine happiness, a gentle laughs that sometimes -if happy enough- even had little hiccups! Yeah, green stared a lot.

…

It was yet another party and green was yet again glaring at mango and jacob in the distance.

"Dude, seriously, what is your problem?" yellow asked worried "he has made an effort to change, you saw it, I saw it, everyone saw it!"

However, green chose to ignore them "I'm gonna get another drink at the kitchen, wait here" they failed to see how mango followed them, taking his staff out and closing the door behind him.

Green turned around only to change his confused face to an annoyed frown "what do you want now?"

Mango huffed getting closer, green stood there too pissed to care about what he had to say "It's getting annoying how hard you tried to pretend you hate me" and green's confidence faltered a little "specially when we both know what would have happen that night if I didn't stop you"

Taking a step backwards each step mango took closer, green ended bumping into the counter "I don't know what you're talking about!" They denied

"Really? That cute little blush in your face says otherwise" Touching their own face green could feel the heat. Fuck.

"I-I was drunk! It didn't mean anything!" They kept denying, but mango just chuckled so deep it shook the deepest of green's soul

"Do you really think I don't see when you're looking at me?" Green stood dumbfounded, they tried to make a run for it but mango just grabbed them back with his staff and this time used his arms to trap green against the counter "stop being a coward and face me, you either hate me or love me…" he gently cupped green's face.

"I-I hate you! I do! I really do!" In desperate embarrassment, Green tried yet again to deny their feelings.

"Stop me then" he answered, grabbing the other's chin and slowly pulling closer, closing his eyes and hovering his thumb over green's lips.

Green just shut his eyes close, this was really happening and now he couldn't blame it on the alcohol. They could scream for help to stop it or just shove him away… but they didn't want to.

Green awaited for the kiss that never arrived, or at least not until they opened their eyes again, seeing the mischievous smile on mango's face "I told you, you don't hate me" And kissed him.

It was glorious, it was soft and gentle yet sparkling and it gave green a bubbly sensation at the bottom of their stomach (and it did, in fact, taste like mango). They needed more, so they sat on the counter without breaking the kiss, getting comfortable to keep kissing him. Suddenly mango bit their bottom lip, making green gasp and letting mango's tongue inside green's mouth. The kiss became more heated as mango placed his hands on green's hips and green theirs on mango's head, deepening the make-out session.

But eventually both had to stop for air, disconnecting slowly and opening eyes only to stare at each other. Green felt very self conscious about it afterwards, mango could sense it, so he spoke.

"I don't go around kissing everyone. That's why I didn't kiss you back at my room"

"But… what changed?" Green was confused

The king smiled "I got to know you, even in your cute tsundere way"

"I am NOT a cute little tsundere! Shut it!"

"Really? Cause I can test that theory right now~" he winked, green just rolled their eyes and kissed him again…

… until hearing the pterodactyl screech of purple, who just walked in to see the kiss.

Welp, that will be one hard to explain.

#ava ships #alan becker #animation vs animator #animation vs minecraft #ava mt #ava purple #ava green #avm mango #avm green #avm purple #avm yellow #avm king orange #enemies to lovers #i wrote this instead of sleeping

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 3 years ago

Text

Past midnight.

This is two stories and is dedicated to @detective-giggles who got me on to 9-1-1 lone star, which I have fallen in love with. These two fic’s are based on a scene in episode two and it was too hard to pick between Nick and Rafael, so I wrote it for them both. Nick’s fic is first and after the **** is Rafi’s.

Warnings: Start of smut and fluff.

WC: 1672

Enjoy x

You weren’t surprised when the message came through from Nick just as you walked into your apartment after the shit show that the day was. The cases were coming in back-to-back, in-between court and you were all pretty much working by yourselves on cases to try and get on top of them all. It was just what you needed, just a quick lay, then get home to try and get some sleep and hope that you all didn’t get called in with more crimes being committed over the weekend.

You told him to give you half an hour, quickly jumping into the shower, putting on a new matching silk thong set you had picked up a couple of weeks ago, slipping on a green sundress and flip flops walking out the door to get a cab. The cab pulled up and you made your way into Nick’s apartment building taking the lift up to the 15th floor and walking down to his door.

You could feel your arousal already building up, your core clenching around nothing, just thinking about the last time he drove you into his mattress. It was Nick that made the first move and you had pushed for it just be friends with benefits. He said he was fine with it, but deep down he wanted so much more with you, but he figured that was a good start and you were only sleeping with each other so it was ok, he had no one to be jealous of.

You knocked hard and stood back slightly waiting for him to answer the door. When it opened, your eyes racked over his appearance, a fresh shirt undone just enough to show off his collar bones, fresh pants, sleeves rolled, just a pair of socks on and smelling divine. Nick moved out of the way, and you rushed inside all but pouncing on him, pushing him even more into the wall as you pushed the door shut behind you. Your lips crashing on his and your hands going to his shirt buttons undoing them as fast as you could. Nick pulled back from you and you looked up at him biting your bottom lip,

“Y/N, slow down” Nick chuckled as your lips landed on his neck and you pushed yourself into his crotch “Y/N” Nick grabbed your wrist’s pulling them away from him, stopping your movements and you looked up at him confused.

“What’s wrong?” you looked up at him panting, wondering why he stopped you.

Nick’s eyes were soft and tender and he looked down at you with a small smile, one hand letting go of your wrist and coming up cradle your cheek, his long thumb running under your chin affectionately. Nick kissed your cheek and he nodded towards his living area. Your eyes blew open and your mouth opening slightly when you looked at his dining room table.

Two long lit candles in sliver candle holders between two plates with cutlery set up across from each other. You had been so wrapped up in trying to get Nick’s shirt off, that you hadn’t even notice the amazing smell of whatever was cooking flowing from the kitchen,

“What’s all this?” You looked up at Nick surprised.

Nick brought one hand to rest on your hip and the other went to your arm,

“I just wanted to treat you; we have been eating out all week and I thought a home cooked meal would be good for both of us” he smiled down at you.

Nick grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the table, moving the chair out for you to sit down and then walked to the fridge getting a bottle of white wine, walking back, pouring you a glass and handing it to you.

“But Nick, its past midnight. I thought- “

Nick sat down his glass and the bottle, walking around to crouch down next to you, his hands resting on your leg. You turned slightly looking down at him, one of your hands going on top of his,

“Y/N, I wanted to spend some time with you. I don’t just want to call you anymore in the middle of the night, to- well yeah. I want more and I would like more with you. I have feelings for you, I don’t want it just to be for that, I want to go out on dates, I want to show you off, I want you to be emotionally and physically all mine” Nick let out a deep breath that he didn’t know he had been holding and he looked up at you, your eyes meeting his amazing brown ones.

You let go of his hands, reaching both up to cup his cheeks and you lent forward pressing your lips slowly to his. Both of Nick’s hands left your lap and came up grab into your arms, as he moved to kneel on his knees. The kiss was soft and slow. You pulled back and kissed Nick’s forehead, he grinning up at you,

“So, this is our first date?”

“Well, yeah if you want it to be. I know I do”

You nodded and titled your head to the side,

“I would like that. Although, I don’t usually sleep with people on the first date, but for you I’ll make exception”

*******************************************************************************************************************

It was exactly an hour from the moment you sent the message till the moment there was a knock on the door. You had gotten home at 11.30 pm, Amanda dropping you off after a long night in Rafael’s office. You quickly freshened up and got to organising your signature ravioli and pumpkin bake, throwing it in the oven and shooting Rafael a text asking if he wanted to come over.

He had needed it; you had needed it. You wanted to feel his weight on top of you and he wanted your hands running along his bare skin. The friends with benefits had been going on for a while, he had even taken you to a city hall event, but no matter how many hints you dropped, he never took the hint that you wanted more, so you kept just doing what you had been doing.

You didn’t want to lose what you had with him and you knew that it could be awkward working with him if in the end he didn’t want to take the next step, but you needed to say something, your feelings had grown, you needed to take the step to know where you stood.

You swung the door open to a smirking Rafael, no jacket, suspenders on show, tie gone with top button undone to show off his under shirt and his sleeves rolled up. Rafael walked towards you, backing you into your apartment, slamming the door shut with his foot, his hands going to your hips pushing you up against the wall. Rafael started to kiss you roughly before he started to kiss down to your neck, rolling his hips into you and his hands slid down from your hips and started to slide up under your t shirt dress.

“Rafi” your hands went to his shoulders, his lips pressed into your neck. “Rafael, wait” You reached down stopping his hands and he pulled back from you looking up at you with a confused look on his face.

“Ah- is everything ok?” Rafael stepped back from you, his hands going to his hips and confused.

You smiled at him, your hand going to his writs, you tugged on it and pulled him toward your small dinning room off the kitchen. Rafael’s eyes scanned the small 4-seater table, a bottle of wine and two glasses sitting between two place settings and a ding of the oven rang through the apartment,

“Everything is fine, I just wanted to do something nice for you. We have been so busy and I just wanted to talk to you, spend time with you”

“But it’s late, it’s past midnight. You usually only message this late when-” he trailed off, his eyes back on the table.

“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about” Rafael looked back at you with an eye brow raised and you took a deep breath “I like you Rafi, a lot. I let my emotions creep in and I tried to shake them away, but I can’t. I know you may not feel the same, but I can’t keep kidding myself-“

Rafael cut you off, his hands going to your face pulling you into him, his lips meeting yours. The kiss was deep, but sweet. Your hands going to rest on his wrists. After a long moment Rafael broke the kiss, leaning back to lock eyes with you. A smile pulling to his face making his eyes wrinkle and his thumbs ran along your cheeks,

“My heart has been broken and I have closed myself off for such a long time. You were the first person, in a really long time to break through my walls and I didn’t stop you, I didn’t want to stop you. I like how you make me feel. I have feelings for you too, I like you a lot Y/N. I want to take you out; I want the whole world to know your mine”

“You- you feel the same?” you blinked up at him.

“I do. I have for a while. Just took you making the first move” Rafael winked down at you.

“You feel the same?” you repeated and Rafael nodded back grinning down at you.

You jumped on him, your arms around his neck and his hands going around your middle pulling you into him,

“I’ am guessing this is our first date?”

“I was hoping so” you pulled back grinning at him.

“Only because its 1 am and what you have cooked smells amazing, is the only reason we are staying in. As soon as this trial is over we are going out and whole world is going to know that your mine”

Tags: @detective-giggles @beccabarba @witches-unruly-heart @dianilaws @scarletsoldierrr @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @averyhotchner @infiniteoddball @fandom-princess-forevermore @madamsnape921 @annabelleb49 @alwaysachorusgirl @thatesqcrush @lovelymischief @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo @harryssxnflwr

#rafael barba #nick amaro #rafael barba fanfiction #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x yn #barba and reader #rafael barba and reader #barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #svu x reader #law and order svu #SVU fanfiction #SVU FANDOM #svu fan #nick amaro x reader #nick amaro x you #detective nicolas amaro #nicolas amaro

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fallin-4-ya · 4 years ago

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Precautionary Purposes

cedric diggory x reader

summary: you and cedric have been best friends for years; but ever since ginny suggested you dip your toes in the dating world, you find your dates becoming more and more horrible with no explaination.

request: please write a fic about a fem hufflepuff reader who’s best friends with Cedric, they both are in love w each other but can’t work up the courage to confess bc they don’t think it’s mutual and it might ruin their friendship. So maybe Ginny tells her she should start going on dates, so George, Dean and other guys ask her on different dates, and Cedric can’t stand it so he finds ways to sabotage their dates.

warnings: mentions vomit once but besides that none!

You finally sat in the Hufflepuff common room after a long day of classes. Excited to catch up on your favorite book, you took a seat on the yellow velvet couch closest to the fireplace. As soon as you were cozy and began reading, a certain distraction entered the common room. Cedric Diggory. The boy you had basically been head over heels in love with since third year. Cedric was everything you could dream about in a guy; he was tall, devilishly handsome, incredibly kind and loyal. On paper he was nothing short of perfect, but there was an itty-bitty problem. He was your absolute best friend and he had no romantic feelings for you whatsoever. So rather than admitting anything, you saved your friendship the trouble and buried your feelings for him deep, deep down. Although they did have a nasty habit of making their way to the surface every once in a while.

‘Hello, Earth to Y/N.’ Said Cedric and pulled you out of your trance.

‘Oh! Hey, Ced. How’s your day been?’ you questioned into his dreamy eyes.

‘Not bad, the Weasley twins played a great prank in-‘ he started, but you lost him somewhere after the Weasley Twins. You couldn’t help yourself but to get distracted by every sense of his being. This boy was going to be the absolute death of you. You had it bad. Really bad.

The next day you headed over to Ginny at breakfast. You slammed your books onto the Gryffindor table and took a seat beside her. She looked you up and down and smiled.

‘Wow, Y/N. You look terrible.’ Ginny said jokingly, ‘Got a case of the Diggory’s do you?’

‘Very funny, Ginny.’ Sarcasm dripping from your tongue.

‘I just don’t understand what you two are waiting for. I mean, he clearly likes you, and you clearly like him, so I’m not seeing the problem.’ She remarked back.

‘Well,’ you said getting frustrated, ‘what do you suppose I do about it, Gin.’

‘If I were you,’ offered Ginny, ‘I’d probably go on a date or two. You know, distract myself, keep my options open.’

‘Keep my options open…’ you pondered aloud, ‘Thanks, Ginny!’

The day following breakfast was very uneventful. Well, at least before Ginny told her brothers about the conversation you two had at breakfast. The next thing you knew after charms, you had a very attractive younger Weasley Twin approach you in the corridors, asking you to accompany him to Hogsmeade tomorrow. You blushed furiously and nodded your head yes.

(‘Like, um, on a date?’ ‘Yes, Y/N, like a date.’)

When you headed to the common room later that evening you were stopped by a rather stern looking Cedric. ‘Hey, Ced. Are you alright?’ you questioned, raising your brow.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were going on a date with George Weasley?!’ he said.

‘Oh, um, I don’t know. I just didn’t think it was that important. Plus I just assumed you didn’t want to know and-‘

‘What makes you think I didn’t want to know?’ Cedric asked deadpanned. But before you could think of an answer he brushed off, ‘You know what, never mind. I’m sorry I said anything. You two will have a great time. Good night, Y/N.’ And with that he was off, leaving you stood absolutely bewildered in the Hufflepuff common room, wondering why Cedric was so concerned about a silly little date.

The very next day next day you were sitting across from George Weasley in The Three Broomsticks. You had to admit, the afternoon was going so smoothly. George was a wonderful date: he was sweet, funny and kind; but there was one problem, he wasn’t Cedric. And although as much as you wished the cute ginger in front of you could distract you, it was of no use.

However, a loud crash pulled you out of your thoughts; and before you had any time to react, you and George were covered in sticky butterbeer. Madame Rosmerta apologized profusely, ‘Oh my goodness, it's like I tripped on thin air. I’m sorry, my darlings!’

Suddenly you saw a hand reach out and give you a towel, ‘You alright there, Y//N?’ Cedric said revealing himself, ‘We were sitting over there and watched the whole thing happen. Rotten luck, Weasley.’

‘No problem, Diggory. Me and Y/N were just finishing up anyways.’ He smiled sweetly at you and glared at Cedric, ’Why don’t we head back to the castle and get you cleaned up?’

And with that you and George Weasley headed back up to Hogwarts. After much chatter, you both agreed you had a wonderful time but enjoyed each other’s company better as friends. You definitely weren’t upset at the notion, especially considering the very next day Dean Thomas asked you out. Shocked but slightly satisfied, you agreed to take a walk with him by the black lake. You two were really enjoying your time together; Dean was respectful and genuine, which made your heart slightly a flutter. Not the way Cedric did of course, but enough to distract you from the Diggory’s, as Ginny liked to call it.

Things were going well, and Dean reached out for your hand. However, as soon as he grabbed a hold of your fingertips, dung bombs erupted from his robes filling your nose with the foulest smell.

‘I’m so sorry, Y/N! I have no idea how those got there!’ said Dean, rushing back towards the castle. Leaving you with the second failed date of the week.

‘What’s the matter, Y/N?’ Cedric greeted you at dinner, ‘Dean Thomas didn’t stand you up did he?’

‘Nope, even worse.’ You chuckled, ‘Dung bombs went off in his robes. You know, I’d forgotten how bloody horrible those smelt.’

Your eyes met his and both of you bust out into hysterical laughter. With tears of joy, and tummies pain stricken from the laughs; you forgot, just for a moment, how easy it was to get lost in him.

Over the next few weeks, Lee Jordan, Ernie MacMillan and Zacharias Smith had all asked you out, each one ending more disastrous than the next. You became quickly frustrated at the pattern emerging. Someone would as you out, something would go horribly wrong and Cedric (out of all people) would be there to comfort you. It was like the whole world was out to get you, and you have had enough.

You huffed your way in the common room one evening, and plopped your way onto the couch. You felt a soft hand on your shoulder. Cedric, you sighed to yourself as he took the seat next to you.

‘Rough day?’ you nodded at him, ‘Want to talk about it?’

You exhaled softly, ‘I don’t even know anymore, Ced. I just feel like the entire world is against me when it comes to the love department. First George and the butterbeer, then Ernie and the swamp in his four poster, then Lee and the rouge bludger, then Zacharias throwing up! And do I even have to mention Dean?! It’s like everything I’m doing is wrong, Cedric. And I can’t help but to feel like it’s all my fault’ You said in all of your frustration.

‘Y/N, darling. Don’t say that, you deserve the absolute world and you know that. Besides, how could it be your fault the Zacharias ate those acid pops-‘ he stopped mid-sentence, catching himself. Your heart dropped and you turned your head slowly.

‘Cedric, I didn’t mention anything about acid pops.’ You stated bewildered. Cedric stared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes with yours.

‘How did you know that acid pops made Zacharias sick?’ you questioned him again, but suddenly the pieces clicked together. ‘Cedric, Madam Rosmerta didn’t trip on her own that day at The Three Broomsticks. And the dung bombs weren’t put in Dean’s robes on accident, were they? Oh my God! Cedric Diggory, have you been the one sabotaging my dates!?’

There was so much going through your mind. Why on Earth would Cedric do such a thing, you questioned to yourself. You looked up at his face searching for answers, looking for anything.

‘I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t even fathom the idea of you being with someone else because-‘ he hesitated, ‘because I love you.’

You stared at him, in shock; because the boy you have been head over heels for has just told you that he loved you. You had absolutely nothing to say, so instead of saying anything at all you crashed your lips onto his. Cedric melted into you, wrapping is hands onto your waist. You pulled away from him.

‘You know, Cedric, If you would have asked me I would have said yes.’ You smiled at him.

‘This was just for precautionary purposes, you know?’ Cedric laughed.

‘Precautionary purposes?’ you giggled back, ‘Of course, of course.’

He then pulled you into a soft kiss, and with that your case of the Diggory’s was cured.

(‘You should probably apologize to those poor boys.’ ‘Yeah I probably should’)

Author’s note: oh my goodness! i had such a wonderful time writting this! i hope you enjoy it! thank you nonnie for the request! <3

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x you #george weasley #ginny weasley #hufflepuff #hufflepuff reader

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911nmg · 2 years ago

Text

Bring me out of the dark

YThis is the second chapter of a Bucky/Nat normal life au fic I’ve been writting.

The complete series can be found on AO3.

The themes are quite dark so this are the trigger warners for this chapter:

TW: Implied/Reference torture

TW: PTSD, flashbacks

Can’t sleep! Can’t breathe!

Bucky’s POV

The alarm finally went off, marking another sleepless night. The wait was over, I had given it my best shot, done everything I was supposed to, and it had still backfired.

Either way, I had to get going. Steve was going to be here in a couple of hours, and getting ready on one arm definitely took longer than it used to with both.

I brewed myself some coffee and fumbled with the plastic knife, trying to both keep the bagel in place and spread jam over it was still hard, no matter how many times I practiced with the occupational therapist.

He hadn’t managed to teach me as many new motor patterns as we both would have liked, turned out I was a complete lefty, so turning to my right hand was nightmarish, however Clint was definitely a master when it came to adaptations. From weighted plastic cutlery, to squeezable bath product bottles marked with different shaped gomets, even the meal delivery service I was subscribed to had been his idea!

He had said it was a blessing with two kids under five, and he swore by it. I definitely could see why. Nutritious food made in five to ten minutes in the microwave. It had been hard dealing with the beeping in the beginning, but now it saved me so much frustration and time.

The pang started on my missing fingers, then made its way up. Awoken by the single beep the machine emitted, or maybe the slightly burnt smell of the bacon.

- Fuck. Not again!

There was no arm anymore, just a big scar following my collarbone and a patch of scarred leathery skin. Yet the hot pain radiating from my nonexistent wrist up was a daily occurrence.

- There's nothing there - I repeated the useless mantra, closing my eyes and rubbing at the air, as if I could get my muscles to relax - There’s nothing there, there’s nothing there, there’s nothing there...

I proceeded as usual, pushing the white, hot, pulsating pain to the back of my mind, and placing the bacon on the other half of the bagel. Bitter, sweet and savory, the best combination of tastes for a breakfast if you asked me.

Taking my pajamas off was another thing I still struggled with. Well... the dressing and undressing in general, even with adapted clothing. Clint had made a joke about seeing me naked more than his wife, but to work through the frustration was the only way out, right?

Showering was another task that had changed quite a bit. It had to be done in the dark, since looking at my body just... I was swinging there. My arms numb and my body exposed. A canvas for their anti american sentiments. Blades, knives, razors, even scissors...

- You are safe - My ragged breaths hurt my insides - You are home.

Name five things! Five things... White tiled floor! I took a long breath of air and kept it inside. Navy towels, wicker laundry hamper... I allowed the air out, exhaling as slowly as I could. It still came in short ragged breaths. Then repeated the process. Dirty mirror, gomet coded bottles, Steve’s red toothbrush still on the cup...

Once my breath had evened out I showered quickly: in, shampoo, soap, rinse, conditioner, comb, rinse, out.

Spray deodorants were the best, no caps to fumble around. Boxers were hard to slide up with only one hand and not looking down, it could be done. Socks though were the death of me.

I had started using a contraption where you slid the sock on, then lowered it to the ground and pushed the foot through. It was one of those teleshopping things I’d thought useless before the war, but it was surprisingly effective.

A soft gray t-shirt followed, it was new, something Peggy had bought for me at Decathlon for its breathability. The empty long sleeve hanging limp at my left side felt disconcerting, so I just yanked at it until the stitching gave up. Better.

Then came jeans, he had graduated out of his joggers a month back, they still had to contain elastic though, and they’re closed with a big snap hidden underneath the metal button.

Finally shoes, I checked the alarm clock, 8:10, the time was close to Steve’s arrival. I had changed to slip on sneakers and zipped boots, I’d rather forget how expensive my wardrobe change had been, hadn’t it been for Pops inheritance I’d have had to rely on the charity of my friends, burdening even more. Not that it was unexpected, the army didn’t treat his veterans exactly well, not even those with a bunch of medals. Had learnt it the hard way when the colonel came back from Iraq.

There were steps up the creaky stairs. Knocking followed - Bucky. It's me, Steve. The key turned on the lock. I stared at the door, willing myself to stay seated on the bed, as calm as possible, as my friend used the spare key to let himself in.

- No knife? - He teased - What a boring welcome.

I had finally managed to stop standing guard, knife in hand any time someone came near my door, or knocked, it felt good, him acknowledging my progress in a lighthearted way.

Steve came every saturday morning to help me with the house. Some things weren’t possible on my own anymore: riding my bike or playing guitar were the ones that hurt the most, however, on a scale of usefulness it had more to do with changing my sheets and sweeping and mopping the floors. He also took me to therapy, unsure I’ll go if left to my own devices, and kept me company afterwards, in case I became a fucking mess of nerves.

- Here - He throws a stack of papers at me - Read through and tonight you can ask Tony for any clarifications.

- What’s this?

- The Bionic project, you are in, if you want.

The NYU logo occupied half of the page, then were the names: Stark, Banner, Strange, and a bunch of medical organizations. I could have an arm again?! A functioning one?

- I thought severe PTSD disqualified me.

- Tony has his ways - He started rummaging around the house, finding every speck of dust and fighting any dirt with his usual obsession. A given when getting sick as a child could mean dying at any time.

I skimmed through the pages, I could grasp the basics of the science behind it: intramuscular electrodes would be placed at the base of my neck, circumventing the damaged area, then connect to a fixed metal plate that would act as a processor and allow access to my injuries, then a complete bionic arm would attach to that.

Risks: worsening of phantom pain, complete paralysis and even death.

- How come they’ve founded this? The risks are severe...

- They had success with under the knee, over the knee, and along the arm amputations so...

- Do you trust this?

He smiled softly, warmth coming through in his voice - I’ll trust Tony with my life.

- Then it’s done - I searched for a pen, and in a blurry penmanship I signed my name at the end of the informed consent formulaire.

- Maybe you should talk it out with doctor Sullivan before making a rushed decision.

- You have too much faith in that woman.

- And you, far too little.

He grabbed my leather jacket and pushed me to the door and into the car. The ride was smooth and quiet, interrupted only when I realized - Wait? Did you say we’re meeting Tony tonight?

- We’re going to the ballet. All of us. It’s Natasha’s debut as Giselle, and as a principal dancer with the company. Tony got us tickets at the front box.

- That must be expensive.

- Don’t think about it.

- Stevie, you’ve all done so much for me this past year, I... I don’t want to be a burden - I stared at my feet, guilt had its way of turning my stomach, as if someone had stabbed me at the gut. A feeling I could definitely pinpoint with accuracy.

- This is what friends are for - He retorted.

- I’m such a fuck up...

He squeezed my thigh, hard, stopping the shake in my body - You haven't slept in a while, have you?

- Not really.

- You start spiraling when you stop sleeping.

- Do I?

He gave me a pointed look - You aren’t taking the sleeping pills.

- I get nightmares with those.

- Then get Sullivan to change them!

- You don’t get it...

- You’d rather stay awake than face the memories, I get it. But your body is going to give out eventually, Buck.

I promised to think about it and entered the old building. Sam worked there during the week, in the child protection department, that’s how we got to meet the doctor, and his double duty as both a psychiatrist and therapist. “Global approach to trauma therapy” was Sam’s pitch to Steve, and he had forced me into it ever since.

- James - She called softly, trying not to startle me, as if I hadn’t been listening to the muffled voices, her armchair moving and the door opening.

- Tense already? - She closed the door behind us, again with minimal force, and I struggled with having her in my blindspot - I haven’t even started to prood at you for information yet.

Sarcasm, that was the only reason I had stayed on therapy with her, I couldn’t take a sympathetic shrink with a “poor you” approach.

She sat on a comfy armchair opposite me, taking her black notebook from the side table and placing it over her crossed legs.

- How’s your week been?

- Good.

She sighed - This is not going to work if you are not honest, James. You know it. Stop wasting both our time.

- It was relatively good - I insisted, because it had been - I went to OT twice, had my three meals a day, manageable phantom pain.

- Did you go out with friends?

- Tonight.

She seemed kind of impressed, her softly wrinkled face keeping a smile in check - How about showering? Has it gotten any easier?

I nodded no, she took note.

- Are you keeping the stump clean? We don’t want you taking antibiotics until we create a new super resistant bacteria, do we?

- When I shower I do wash it.

- When? Aren’t you showering everyday, lieutenant?

I seethed at that - Do, not, call, me, that - I knew I was being disproportionated but I didn’t care. James Buchanan Barnes, the hero, discharged with honors and a raise through the ranks, recipient of a purple heart. That wasn’t me.

- Don’t raise your tone with me, young man - She replied, scolding me as if I were a kid.

- Sorry - I got back on my sofa. When had I risen from my place? - Shouldn’t have threatened you.

- Shouldn’t have triggered you, either - She shrugged - I have to, though.

She pondered the following question with care - Are you refusing to take sleeping pills because you think of it as a sign of weakness?

- No! - I scoffed at the idea - I just don’t want to sleep!

- I know your dad was diagnosed with PTSD as well - So she had decided to push my buttons - He refused treatment, didn’t he?

- The colonel did what he thought best.

- Drank himself to sleep?

I found my fists rolled up and tried to relax, slow steady breaths - I’m here. And I’m not falling for that.

- So you are getting how many white nights a week?

- Four, maybe five - I squirmed in my seat - They tend to come together, three nights in a row, then I sleep for one or two, then I stay awake again for a couple days.

- We can search for a medication that helps with the nightmares, James - She tried to coax me softly - You’re doing so well in other areas, but we can’t make progress if you don’t get to sleep.

- I’m fine.

She resigned herself, pushing her back to her seat, widening the distance she had shortened between us.

- Have you been able to see yourself naked?

My brows might have reached the ceiling, because she bursted out laughing at my shock - What? Are you prudish, James?

- Didn’t expect the question. And no, I’m still showering in the dark and dressing without looking down.

Honesty. I couldn’t watch the scars and stay present, no matter how much I tried.

- How about cutting your hair.

- No buzzing, no scissors.

- We could try it here, you know? I could cut your hair while we work on grounding techniques, that way I can see if you are applying them correctly.

- You? You want to cut my hair?

- I want you to face the trauma in a controlled environment. If you’d prefer a striptease is fine by me.

That time I did laugh. Seemed like a good compromise.

- How about we try? We can stop at any point.

- Now?! - I keep a pair of scissors in my bag. Come here.

She made me sit on the carpet in front of her and started chatting. What would I be doing that night, had I watched any good tv series lately, anything to keep me grounded.

Yet, the moment the scissors closed near my ear and its sound registered, I went back. I was going to die. Another shiny metallic object impacted against my back, lodging itself between my shoulder bones, a sharp cry. I was going to die. Someone slashed through my abs, warm sweet blood dripped onto my pants and the concrete floor. I was going to die.

- James - She sounded as if we were underwater - James, look at me - She slapped my face lightly until I locked eyes with her - You are home, you are safe, say it.

- I... I’m home, I’m safe?

- You are. You are safe - She promised, nodding with all her might - Say it again.

I’m home, I... I’m safe.

- Come on, sound convinced!

- I’m home. I’m safe.

- Good - She kept rubbing circles in my back until I stopped shaking, forcing me to repeat the words again, and again, and again.

- I’m such a fuck up... - There were tears rolling down my face.

- You need help. That’s it - She sentenced.

- What I need is a bullet through my brain.

She grimaced but said nothing, she didn't seem to find it as serious as previous times because she didn’t call for a psychiatric hold at the nearest hospital. Maybe knowing Maria had taken my gun also helped.

- It’s quite probable you’ll crash in a while, panic attacks tend to strip one of energy - Still, please, go out tonight. And take this - She placed a prescription on my hand.

- I bet a hundred dollars that if you take them every night, next week won’t be as hard. But you have to take them. - Easiest hundred bucks of my life - I accepted, letting her help me from the floor.

She had been right, as fucking always, I had crashed just after lunch, but Steve had followed her instructions and woke me up. I appreciated it. And Steve was ecstatic at the chance to show me the huge banner occupying the side of the building. It was a photo of a waifish woman in a long white tutu, red hair in a bun, pained eyes barely looking at the camera, soft arms raised above her head and a splash of freckles across her skin. She was gorgeous. Natasha.

You can read the whole work here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41646183/chapters/104463261

#winterwidow #buckynat #bring me out of the dark #normal life au #chapter 2 #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years ago

Note

Rawr directed me to you about the sensory overload short, because i loved it so much. You need to know that was exactly what i needed when i saw it this morning! Work remodels and adhd were really hurting me yesterday and that was super soothing to read! So thnk you for writting it!

I hope things at work have calmed down and the work remodels are done Nonnie. The fact you found the fic soothing to read makes me both happy and awed, I never consider the impact a story might have on people but I’m super pleased it helped you. Also, thanks @rawrkinjd for pointing Nonnie in my direction! Here’s a little bitterness and unhappiness for Lambert as thanks to both of you.

Only the deliberately obtuse could claim that Witchers didn't feel. Sadly, most of humanity was just that, wilfully ignorant of what was right in front of them. At least, that was what Lambert always thought because he could see exactly how much his family could and did feel, knew how deep his own emotions went. Even growing up he saw older Witchers returning from The Path, weary and aching. He wasn't stupid, he knew that those who had stayed behind to teach did what they could to help their friends. It wasn't ever anything explicitly said or thanked but somehow everyone always got taken care of. Then the sacking happened and suddenly their numbers were decimated. Each year fewer Witchers came back to Kaer Morhen until it was down to four.

The years were difficult, Lambert wasn't foolish enough to lie to himself about it. Winters were worse somehow. The Wolves grew distant for a while, licking their own wounds and barely coming together at meal times. Training and repairs were done out of obligation and barely a word passed between them. It was nothing like the camaraderie Lambert had seen growing up, no sense of family like he had hoped for and what had made him say yes to the trials. Not like he'd had much choice in the matter but that was beside the point, he had sold himself the promise of something better on the other side of them all and that hope had been what had kept him going. Only, it was now ripped from him.

There was nothing for it, if Lambert couldn't have that, he would simply try and make it happen. He had never been good at sitting around and wishing. It started off with simple things like getting back to Kaer Morhen first so he could air the rooms, light the fires and make things a little more welcoming for the others. None of them commented on it but that was okay, they were probably too tired from the year they've had; the world wasn't kind to Witchers, they all needed a moment to be selfish and just take.

There were other things Lambert did too. He tried to help out in the kitchen more, tried to tweak meals to the others' liking. So much so, he even braved the beehives to get Geralt some honey for his morning porridge. The man did like honey that was still warm from the hive and Lambert wanted to do something nice for a change. There wasn't much room for deeds of altruism on the Path, as much as Lambert would have loved to help those he came across, he needed to survive too. So he had to put aside all his wishes to help, not like humanity really deserved his kindness, and saved it all up for winters with his family.

As life got a little more comfortable at Kaer Morhen once more, Lambert could see the others let loose. It wasn't much, an inclination to share drinks in the evening, the odd invite to play cards. Lambert was mortified to realise he'd missed the signs of Geralt and Eskel growing closer. Those two had always shared a bond, having gone through the trials together. But Lambert didn't think to assume there was more between them until all the pieces began to slot together. Injuries and scars had a knack for hurting long after they had healed, Lambert knew that all too well. Which meant Eskel's scars would probably hurt too. Soft foods only went so far in helping his jaw and teeth. While Eskel never complained, Lambert saw the signs, the tension. So he found a salve that would help, even if to just numb the area while the worst of it passed. At first, he only left the salve on the shelf in the great hall, neatly labelled. He was happy to see it was being used. With time, he learned to make it himself and would always try and have some ready by the time the previous pot ran out. It didn't always happen. On one such evening he carried a fresh pot to Eskel's room, knocked and opened the door. He didn't expect to see Geralt holding Eskel close, cradling his cheek.

"Fuck off Lambert," Eskel snarled, lips curled into something menacing.

Hastily setting the jar down on the nearest surface, Lambert retreated. Eskel was probably in pain, he had barely eaten at dinner. Usually he was much more tolerant. Still, Lambert had held back on the retort on the tip of his tongue because he was trying to be good, trying to make Kaer Morhen a home again.

As the bond between Eskel and Geralt deepened, they became less hesitant about affection. A shoulder squeeze here, a smile there. Lambert was pleased to see it, even if he felt a little like an outsider looking in. After all he had offered, he was still kept at a distance by an invisible hand.

Hardening his heart, Lambert set out to find his own happiness. If Kaer Morhen didn't hold it for him, he would bring it with him. It was how he met Aiden. Someone to hate on first meeting but, after a bit of time exchanging snide remarks, he realised that this might be the happiness he had been wanting. Meeting on the first contract of spring, Lambert had the rest of the year to decide what he wanted and how to play it.

Destiny and Fate were cruel beyond their right. By late autumn Aiden was dead, taking with him the promise of happiness over winter. Grief made Lambert sloppy, he almost joined Aiden in death thanks to a warg of all things. It took him by surprise, got a lucky bite in before Lambert could think to react. Never one to relish killing, Lambert had no other option as he fought with signs and sword until the beast was dead. It wasn't even a clean kill which made Lambert hate himself just that little bit more.

The trail up to Kaer Morhen was long and arduous. With a hastily bandaged leg that was slow to heal, Lambert knew he wouldn't be the first to get back. Probably the last, given his pace. Still, he all but crawled home, the idea of a warm bed and finally some good rest spurring him on. Nobody was there to greet him as he hobbled through the doors but that was okay, they were all probably busy in the kitchen or making repairs. Lambert dragged himself towards his room, wanting nothing more than to collapse into it and sleep for a while, until the fire burned low and it was time for dinner. He shouldered his door open, ready to drop everything in a corner to be dealt with later. It wasn't going to be that easy though. As Lambert stood in the doorway, hardening his heart and understanding his importance in the family all too clearly, as he took in the state of his room. It was cold, dusty and untouched.

#minor geralt/eskel #lambert #the witcher #bitter and unhappy #tldr: lambert tries so hard only to be rejected

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