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azrielbrainrot · 11 months ago

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I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: You're back home right when Azriel was starting to lose all hope, but is the person standing in front of him the same who disappeared all those years ago?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

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You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

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thebestofoneshots · 1 month ago

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.9 K Warnings: none Prompt: The world goes on, and so do the classes, more throuple shenanigans, Not proofread

Chapter 69: Livin’ Thing

“What do you mean they know?” James asked in a whisper. “Why the hell do they know?”

“Severus,” you said. “I think he saw Rem and Sirius while we were–” You stopped yourself, not sure how to break down those details. “Together.”

“What do we do?” he asked, not quite understanding why you looked more exasperated than desperate.

“They won’t tell anybody,” you reassured him. He seemed hesitant. “I’m certain.”

“How?”

“They stopped Severus from opening his big fat mouth. They wouldn’t have done it if they wanted to share the secret with the world.”

“What if they want to be the ones that bring you down?”

“I’m sure they’d love to, but never like that. After Christmas,” you bit your bottom lip as you thought of a way to explain it without outing them. “And it’s not that I excuse their earlier behaviour,” and you really didn’t. You’d never forget the downright abuse they’d made you go through, “but I guess I understand them a little bit better. I’m sure they won’t tell anybody.”

“Not even if we prank them and they get pissed?”

“Not even then,” you said calmly. “They thought Remus and Sirius were cheating on me, that’s why they told me about it, though it seemed they didn’t really want to tell me much either.”

“Who would have thought those Slytherins had an ounce of integrity somewhere in their reptilian body.”

You laughed, shaking your head as James looked at you with a small smile. “When Barty appeared and shook me, I thought I was hallucinating,” you said. “I never thought, out of all people, they’d be the ones to help me escape.”

James gave you a long, analysing look. Sirius’ retelling had been enough for him to know what’d happened, but you had never talked about it, let alone in such a calm manner. He was glad to see you were getting better.

“Unexpected allies and unexpected enemies,” James said. “Isn’t that a casualty of war?”

“Since when are you poetic like that?” you teased as you turned to him with a smile.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve um… been reading Shakespeare.”

“Yeah?”

“Lily said I might enjoy some of his other stuff,” James said with a shrug. “I thought Midsummer Night’s Dream and Much Ado About Nothing were funny.”

“Who would have thought you’d be reading more muggle books?” you said with a smile. “Next you should read The Hobbit.”

“Again with that! ” He said as he turned to you.

“You can’t not have read about elves and hobbits. It’s literally a crime never to have entered the wonderful world of Tolkien!”

“I don’t know about Hobbitses and–” Your laugh cut him off. “–What?”

“Nothing, it’s just– It’s Hobbits, not Hobbitses. The only character who ever calls them that is Gollum.”

“And what’s wrong with Gollum?”

“Oh well… You’d have to read the books to know,” you added with a sneaky smile.

“Cunning little vixen, aren’t you?”

“Well, I got my nickname somehow, didn’t I?” You said with a teasing smile, raising an eyebrow at James. “Besides, Lily really likes those books. You’d probably surprise her.”

“Should have started there!” He retorted.

Saturday, 15th, 1997

Since you were all still pretty tired from the prank, and since neither you, not Sirius or James, had recovered even in the slightest, you had all –all being just you and Sirius– made the executive decision of not flying that Saturday. How exactly had you managed? You’d placed a sound muting spell on James’ bed, and you’d set an enchanted cloth by their window so it looked like night instead of day when he woke up.

That night, you’d also decided to stay in your own bed, since two nights in a row with the boys, so far from the moon, and with nobody wanting to turn into their animagus form, were already suspicious. Not to mention that Remus had prefect duty that night, and neither you nor Sirius would have seen much of him. So Friday night, after telling the boys what’d happened with the Slytherins, you’d bid your goodbyes to each other in the common room, and you’d all gone back to your respective rooms.

Lily was more than happy to have you back, and the two of you laid next to each other on your bed, catching up with all the stuff she did on her vacation and, of course, all about that train ride that she’d hadn’t had time to tell you about. You chatted about her life, new music, and the movies she’d gone to see at the cinema, both the ones she recommended and the ones she thought had been shit, and you fell asleep by each other much later than you had expected to that day.

“Hey!” you heard someone call, followed by your name and a shake of your shoulder. “Aren’t you coming to Apparition?”

You blinked, seeing the blurry, dirty blonde wolf cut that you would have recognised anywhere in the world, “Mars?”

“Mhm,” she said. “Time to wake, princess, we have class. You know Dumbledore does not like anyone being late.”

You grumbled something as you covered yourself with the pillow, only to realise you weren’t alone on your bed. “Evans’s still here?” you said as you turned your face to see Lily’s ginger locks tangled next to your hair.

“Mhm,” confirmed Marlene as she sat on the bed. “Drink this,” she added.

You grabbed the bottle she handed and took a zip, making a face the minute the bitter taste hit your mouth. “What on earth did you just feed me?”

Marlene smiled, “It’s my morning potion, been working on it for a while now.”

“Tastes like shit,” you said as you licked your lips.

“I know, it’s the part I’ve been working on. But it’s basically an energy booster. I’ve added Mandrake leaves and Gurdy Root extract, some Billywig Sting too, and I tried to get rid of the taste with honey water and lavender, but it does not seem to work.”

“Sweetroot,” Lily said as she slowly blinked, yawning as she looked at Marlene. “Use Sweetroot after the potion is done, and then add the Lavander, It’ll kill the other tastes and keep only the one you add afterwards.”

“Can you do that to Polyjuice?” you asked, turning to her almost instantly.

Lily frowned, about to ask why you’d need polyjuice before deciding it would be much better if she didn’t know your reasons. “No,” she said with a shake of her head and then yawned. “The” –she yawned again– “the Sweetroot kills the fluxweed and mushes the lacewing flies. There is no way to make Polyjuice taste better, unfortunately.”

“Truly unfortunately,” you thought, thinking back to the last time you’d taken it and how dreadful it had been. Not that being able to turn into other people wasn’t worth the itch to puke.

“You want some too?” Marlene asked Lily as she sat on the bed. You threw her a look, shaking your head ever so slightly.

“I’m good, thanks,” Lily said as Marlene took another sip from her potion and winced.

“I take this one every time we have charms,” she retorted. “There’s just something about Flitwicks voice that puts me right back to sleep, I swear.”

“I know what you mean,” you said. Professor Flitwick really did have a very calming voice, but you were always filled with adrenaline from flying that it had never made you fall asleep, even after you’d seen other students nodding off, especially during the classes where he got carried on talking about the history of spells. The practical classes, on the other hand, were always fun; sometimes they were calm –when the spells were simple–but other times, especially on combination spells, there was always someone who didn’t quite get it right. A flick of their wand in the wrong way, and they’d cause an explosion, or a quill stab to the table, or even –one time– for one of the metal balls to roll over someone’s feet while playing a Summoner’s Court Match. Poor Michael Stadletter, he tended to have real bad luck in charms.

“What’s the time?” you asked, turning to the clock.

“Barely enough for breakfast and running to class,” Mary said as she unwrapped her hair. She had already changed into her uniform. Her curls bounced down from her red, silk, scarf, and she added just a bit of potion to the ends to spring the small, unruly curls, back to life. Her hair looked amazing by the time she was done.

“Good, I’m starving,” you said as you stood, and turned to look at the small corner of pillows by the window, Nieve was awake, one of her wings open as she dug her head inside as if she was looking for something, or perhaps cleaning herself.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to eat before Apparition? We were thinking of skipping,” said Marlene, now taking a pear and giving it a bite. “‘xcept for this.”

You had skipped dinner last night in favour of getting boswelia and chamomile from the herbology classroom, chopping some of it while you all talked together by the fireplace and dividing the chopped and magically dried leaves on two different glass jars. Owls normally hunt by themselves, and the treats they got from wizards were nothing but an extra, but since Nieve couldn’t fly, you’d had to get actual food for her. And so, you’d gone to Nimbletwist and convinced her to give you some raw meat.

Nieve seemed to much prefer the full steak to the minced meat, so you had to marinate them with the leaves for her to eat them. Although last night you’d heard some shuffling, which made you suspect she was hunting down some kind of smaller insect.

“I’m pretty hungry, though,” you said as you leaned down next to Nieve and opened a small box, levitating an already marinated piece of raw stake and placing it next to her. She didn’t pay much attention until you placed a spell on it that made it start dancing around like a small mouse. Nieve grabbed it with her claws, pinning it down to the floor before leaning down and gobbling it up. When she was done, she turned to you with a satisfied air. “Hope you’re feeling better, girl,” you said as you tilted your head and gave her a small, tight-lipped smile.

She cooed in return, tilting her head to the side and chirping as she looked behind you. You looked back to see Lily sitting on the bed. You narrowed your eyes at her, and she smiled guiltily. “I think she might want some of the treats I’ve been giving her,” she said as she stood up and walked towards her trunk, taking out a small pack of owl treats. “I got this one for all the owls that brought me stuff on Christmas, but there was some leftover, and I thought Nieve might like them.”

By then, she had leaned next to you, pulling out a rather large cookie-like treat that she later broke into smaller pieces and offered to Nieve. The small owl leaned next to her hand and carefully took one of the pieces before swallowing it whole and chirping excitedly. Lily left the rest of the treats on the pillow before she stood up. You looked at Nieve one more time and took a deep breath.

You weren’t sure what to do with her, at least not after she was healed. You had Reese, and you had already inherited one too many things from Nina. But you didn’t want Nieve to be left alone either; you wanted to find her a home and a person who would take care of her and love her as much as Nina did. A memory came to you briskly, how, on her birthday last year, Nina had told you about her new pet. Her parents had sent Nieve with a big blue and silver bow, and she had flown straight into her table, clashing clumsily against one of the plates since she was so small. She held a note on her beak and chirped happily once she saw Nina for the first time.

You sighed and stood up, leaving Nieve to chirp as she ate some of the other treats. Lily had already gone into the bathroom, and you opted to change into your uniform in the room instead of waiting. When she was out, all that was left for you was a quick wash of your teeth and face and getting your hair untangled.

When you were ready, Lily and Mary were gone, but Marlene had stayed to walk with you towards the Great Hall. “Why’d they leave?” you asked as you looked around the room.

“Mary wanted some anti-dizziness potion, and Lily said she’d come with her to Pomfrey.”

“Oh, that’s actually pretty clever,” you said, thinking back to how they had both ended up feeling rather dreadful after the first class. You’d had a few others afterwards, and while you had managed your PTSD (if you could call it that), Lily and Marlene almost always ended up, at least, with a mild headache.

“Let’s go,” Marlene said as she tilted her head towards the door, and you nodded in return, following behind her.

“I just don’t understand what happened,” James said loudly as he shook his head, he was talking to the boys on the sofa. “My alarm has never failed me!”

“Beats me,” said Sirius as he shook his head.

“And not even the light woke me up,” James complained.

“Probably cloudy in the morning,” said Remus, who was well aware and had helped you and Sirius with your plan of skipping flying that morning.

“Maybe you were just really tired,” said Peter as he yawned. “Godric knows I am.”

“And Vixen!” he said as soon as he spotted you on the stairs. “Why didn’t you wake us up?”

“She fell asleep,” Marlene retorted. “Had to wake her a few minutes ago.”

“Wait, you did?” James asked with a frown.

“Must be our lack of sleep.” You shrugged. “I just couldn’t wake up. Besides, I stayed chatting with Lily a good deal of the night and– oh.” You’d been yanked by the arm and pulled towards the sofa in the middle of your sentence, having you fall half on top of Sirius and half on top of Remus, who’d been sitting by the other. Sirius was quick to press a kiss to your cheek and lean his head on your shoulder with a contented sigh, and Remus, who’d been tempted to follow his example, had to hold back, giving you a light pat on the thigh.

“Morning, Luv,” he said with a small, almost imperceptible smile.

You had no idea when you’d tell your friends, but you wanted it to be sooner than later. Even if secret relationships were exciting, the fact that you couldn’t give affection to Remus the same way you gave it to Sirius –when in public– worried you since you knew how hard it had been for him. You turned your head to the side to give him a good, long look and smiled. “Morning, Moons.”

Marlene tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at the two of you; there was a certain complicity there that she hadn’t seen before. Or perhaps she had seen it, but it had never been as openly shown before. Could it be because of the prank? She wondered. She also noticed James smiling as he looked at the three of you as if he was in on whatever secret your glances meant.

“Let’s get breakfast,” Peter said as he stood up.

“Right, you said you were starving,” she said as she looked at you.

“I am,” you said with a smile and stood, offering both of your hands to help your boys up. Sirius smirked as he took your hand. Remus was much calmer as he took a hold of it, both standing at about the same time.

“I see you’ve got your preferences,” said James as he gave you a feigned look of disdain.

“You were much further away,” you retorted with a shrug.

James scoffed, diverted as he stood. “Whatever you say, Vix. As long as it lets you sleep at night.”

“Oh, she sleeps mighty well at night,” Marlene said with a smile. “With Lily’s cuddles and all.”

“With whose cuddles?” asked James as he turned to you with a shocked expression.

“Lily slept by her side last night,” Marlene said nonchalantly, she loved to tease James. “Not the first time either, didn’t you know?”

“She did?” James asked you in shock.

“We stayed up late talking,” you said with a shrug.

“You should be careful, Sirius,” she added, trying to get a rise out of him too. “You know she likes redheads.”

You rolled your eyes, at some point, somehow, it’d gotten to Marlene’s ears that you liked redheads, and she hadn’t stopped teasing you –and Lily– since. She must have said you looked like “the cutest little lesbian couple” over a hundred times.

Sirius shrugged. “I don’t mind sharing all that much,” he said as he threw a complicit smile at Remus, who tried not to react to Sirius’ silly way of incognito flirting. Marlene raised an eyebrow at his reaction while James threw an amused look his way.

“Can we hurry this up?” Asked Peter with a small frown. “I’m starving!”

“Me too!” you said as you stepped forward, catching up with Peter as you walked towards the exit of the common room. “We can continue with the teasing while we eat, I don’t want to be late.”

It didn’t take too long for you to get to the Great Hall. Remus was exceptionally good at finding the right stairs, and in less than 10 minutes, you were already crossing the door. Most students stayed in their rooms on Saturday mornings. So the room was almost empty except for the few 7th years who were taking extra classes while they prepared for their N.E.W.T.s.

Marlene sat beside you and prepared some sandwiches for the girls and herself to eat after class was over while you had some simple eggs and toast. Although you were used to the stomach-churning feeling of apparitions and the slight coppery taste it often left in the mouth, you did not want to go overboard with your breakfast and end up puking all of it onto the garden.

“You should add more cheese,” Peter said as he handed Marlene a cutting board filled with all kinds of it.

“Thanks, Pete,” she said as she took the board and placed it in front of her, picking out each’s favourite cheese and adding it to the sandwiches.

“Welcome,” he replied before taking a huge bite of his own breakfast muffin. He always took careful care and consideration while preparing it, first cheese, then the eggs, then the sausage. Sometimes –if it was available– he added roast beef, and he often topped it with a few slices of bacon and his favourite dressing, brown sauce.

As soon as you were done with your food, you moved your plate to the side and grabbed some of the fresh veggies to add to the sandwiches. Tomato, bell peppers and fresh cucumber for Mary dried tomato and cucumber for Lily and just cucumber for Marlene. You also added some of your favourite veggies and topping to the one she’d made for you and random stuff for the three extra sandwiches Marlene thought to make in case anyone needed any food after the class, which was rather likely.

“How are we gonna take this?” you asked as you looked at the rather huge pile of sandwiches on the table.

“I thought about it,” Marlene said as she pulled a tiny picnic basket from one of her pockets. It was so small it might as well have been made for a pixi rather than a human.

“That’s adorable!” you said as you looked at it.

“It’s definitely not gonna fit,” Peter said.

Sirius burst into a laugh, and Remus gave him a disapproving look.

“What?”

“Nothing, It’s just… never mind.”

“No, I want to know!” Peter demanded.

“A bad joke,” you said as you looked at Sirius, who looked offended.

“Yeah, since you’ve never had that issue. Right, Sirius?” Marlene added with a smirk, and Sirius turned to her, now even further aggravated.

“For your information,” Sirius said as he stood up, but Remus was quick to pull him right back in his chair while Marlene exploded into a fit of laughter.

“By Merlin! Should have seen your face,” she said in between giggles.

Sirius was sitting with his arms over his chest and pouting ever so slightly; he looked pretty cross. Adorably so, if you might say. You leaned closer to him and placed your head over his shoulder; his hair tickled your cheek as you grabbed his arm with your hands. Remus, who was sitting on the other side of Sirius, was looking at the two from the side of his eye as he munched on some pancakes. He deliberately brought one hand down and placed it just above Sirius’ knee reassuringly.

You smiled when you noticed and pressed a loud kiss to Sirius’ cheek. “Never mind them, Puppy,” you started, even if Marlene was still laughing as she tried to explain the joke to Peter, who still looked quite confused. “We both know that’s not true.”

Sirius hummed, not quite satisfied yet, although, had you been looking at him from the front, you would have noticed the tension in his cheeks from attempting to hold back a smile. There was nothing more that he loved than being the centre of your attention, or Moony’s. And at that moment, he was the centre of both.

You moved one of your arms to play with his hair, allowing your fingers to dance at the nape of his neck as you pressed yet another kiss, this time closer to his ear and lingering just a bit longer before whispering, “Perhaps we should have some witnesses? We could show Moony later what we both know…”

Sirius turned to you and cleared his throat as he pulled on the neck of his shirt, loosening his tie a little in the process.

“Marlene, make sure to tease me more often when Lily’s around,” James said as he leaned next to her and took a cucumber from one of the sandwiches.

“Oi, that’s not for you, Potter!” she said as she smacked his hand lightly.

“I mean,” James said as he took a bite of the cucumber he had managed to steal from her. “He was upset for a second, and then he got pampered and all by Vix and–”

“Look!” you cried as you pointed at the clock behind the two of you. Remus kicked James on the shin, and he yelped rather loudly. “It’s late; we really should get going now!”

Marened frowned and turned to look at the clock, by then, Remus had already made the minute hand advance by at least 15 minutes, making it seem like it was much later. “Huh, I would have sworn we still had time,” she said, turning back to you as she tilted her head. “Anyway, we should get going,” she said as she stood up and pointed her wand at the small basket. “Engorgio.”

Suddenly, her basket grew into a normal-sized picnic basket. She smiled and started placing the sandwiches inside. You helped her add some other sugary fruits like apples, bananas, cherries and even some peeled oranges since you thought it might be of use in case someone got low bIood sugar like in the previous class.

“Here,” Remus said as he passed over some berries in a small linen bag, “Pomfrey said these are good for dizziness.”

“Thanks,” Marlene said as she took the small bag and placed them in the basket.

Peter was quick to finish his second breakfast muffin, and you all stood up and walked towards the lawn. Marlene and Lily were sitting on the snow next to Tom and Beth, talking as they waited. Marlene caught up with them faster than the rest, taking her gloves out and putting them on before allowing her hands to fall on the snow.

“What happened? Is he not here yet?”

“Still a few minutes early,” said Tom as he checked his wristwatch.

“What? I thought we were late,” Marlene said, confused.

“Clock must have been wrong,” you said as you plopped down on the floor next to Tom, not bothering with the gloves and resting your hands on your thighs instead.

“We haven’t talked,” he said with a small smile and a low, dignified tone.

“Right,” you said with a smile as you wet your lips. While you had seen Tom pretty much every day since Wednesday, you’d been so caught up with the prank and then with Nieve and classes that you really hadn’t had a talk with him. And least not a talk in which he could ask you the things he wanted to ask. Even if he already had a fair idea of how your talk with the boys had gone. If he had to guess, he would say it had been brilliant. “We’ll make time, I promise,” you said with a smile.

He was about to say something else when Dumbledore appeared in the middle of the yard with a rather smug-looking expression. “Nice to see you all again,” he said with a smile. A few students had quit the class after too much vomiting, but most of the kids that survived the first two apparition classes were still there. In fact, the only person you knew who had quit was one of Beth’s roommates.

“Today,” Dumbledore said as he turned around to motion the students sitting behind him to move closer to where you stood, their steps crunching the snow were muffled by his next words. “Things are going to be a little more complicated than the previous classes.” You smiled, there was something about a good challenge that always called your attention. “You’re going to start attempting to apparate by yourselves.”

“But, professor,” someone protested. “I don’t feel ready yet.”

“I will continue to work on apparitions with those who don’t feel ready yet, but for those willing to try, we’re ready as well. In case of Splinching, Fizzy and Sproots will be ready to transport you to the hospital wing with Pomfrey,” he said. “Madam Ponfrey has already prepared a few beds and potions and is ready to deal with any case kind of injury, be it mild or more serious.”

James seemed pretty pleased at the idea of being able to apparate by himself if the shine in his eyes and the jittery tapping on his feet against the snow was anything to go by. Sirius looked quite excited as well. But Remus, who remembered how you’d been the last time you apparated in class, was looking at you apprehensively.

You, on the other hand, were only thinking that this was perhaps one of the most practical classes in the entire school. Not that Charms, Potions or Care of Magical Creatures weren’t useful. But in times of war, you couldn’t help but think that having a way to disappear was more useful than most things, even if that meant running out of the barrier in a safe house. Perhaps purchasing one of those Vanishing Cabinets, like the one back in Burgin and Burkes wasn’t such a terrible idea. Not for Hogwarts, but for whatever it was you were going after, and of course, during the summer break.

“The ones who are willing to do it by themselves, please step behind me, you’ll be working with Professor Spellman, who kindly agreed to join us today to make sure everyone is safe.”

A good deal of people stayed by Dombludore’s side while you stood up. “You are coming?” you asked the girls.

“I’m staying,” Said Mary as she shook her head with determination.

“I’ll come,” Said Beth as she too stood. “Tom?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a frown, although he didn’t get up.

Peter opted to stay while the rest of the marauders were more than ready to cross over to the other side. You were about to walk that way when James crouched, levelling himself with Lily, who was sitting on the snow with her arms crossed over her knees. She was biting her lip as she looked attentively at the floor near her snow-covered boots as if they could give her the answers she needed.

“Are you okay?” James asked as he tilted his head, trying to steal her attention away from the freshly chopped grass.

“Huh?” she said as her attention focused on him. She smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

“What’s got your pretty head so preoccupied?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to do it by myself,” she replied with a sigh. “You see, I know all the theory, and I’ve done it with Dumbledore enough times to be able to do it by myself… but I’ve seen what splinching looks like…” She threw a look your way. “I’m scared to end up like that, or much worse.”

You were about to say that splinching hadn’t been all that bad, but Remus noticed, and he placed a hand on your shoulder, shaking his head to stop you and then nodding towards James. You nodded and turned to look at the two of them again.

“I’m sure you’re more than capable of doing it by yourself.” He smiled. “But there is absolutely no pressure for you to do it right now–” he then pulled his hand up and offered it to her “–if you decide to go for it, I’d be right there beside you. How does that sound?”

Lily gave James a confused look as if she was not used to him being the serious one. Even you and the boys were looking at the interaction relatively impressed. Lily smiled and took hold of James’ hand. He got up and pulled her along with him, spinning her around and landing his arm over her shoulders seconds later. “So you don’t get cold,” he said casually. She laughed and shook her head, and the two of them started walking to the other side.

Mary and Marlene looked at each other with impressed glances as if they couldn’t quite believe what had happened. “When did James become more clever than the three of us combined?” you said softly, almost on an impressed breath.

“They grow so fast, don’t they?” Tom said dramatically as he wiped an invisible tear from his eye.

“So silly,” you said as you nudged Tom with your knee and then turned to look at your other friend, “Mars?”

“Oh, I’m definitely coming,” she said as she stood up and walked over to the other side, right behind James and Lily.

“Maybe Prongs didn’t need all that help in the end.”

“You’re joking,” Remus said sceptically. “You’ve read his letters!”

You cringed at the memory of some of his quidditch comparisons, “You’re right, he wouldn’t have made it without us.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Let’s go, then,” Sirius said after a small silence, looking in between the two of you as he bit his lip.

“Let’s go,” you agreed with a wink. The three of you walked over to the other side.

Spellman was already there. He had a huge dark purple coat with black fluffy ends and a matching ushanka that made him look like Father Christmas if Father Christmas was Father Halloween.

“What’s with the attire?” Marlene asked nonchalantly, only to get elbowed by Lily, who knew how indiscrete the question had been.

“I’m rather sensitive to the cold,” responded Professor Spellman coolly.

“What about warming spells?” asked James, who knew no more about indiscretion than Marlene.

“Oh, it has plenty, but still,” he retorted and shivered just by looking at the snow. “Who’ll go first?”

“We’ll do it one by one?” asked Lily.

“We don’t want to risk any of you splinching or crashing against each other while trying to get somewhere else.” Spellman nodded.

“Well then,” she said as she unconsciously leaned a little closer to James. From the group, which wasn’t all that large to begin with, nobody seemed to want to be the first one. Or at least nobody jumped to the opportunity like they sometimes did in class.

“Should I choose?” Asked Spellman as he quirked an eyebrow, taking his hands out of his pocket to adjust his ushanka down again.

You looked around. Still, everyone remained glued to their spot, as if the snow were resin sticking them to the ground. You sighed about to step in, but Sirius noticed, and, imagining your reluctance, stepped forwards himself.

“I’ll do it,” he said hastily.

Spellman nodded and beckoned him to walk towards him.

“You got this, mate,” said James with a thumbs up. Sirius responded with a confident wink and stepped right next to Spellman.

Spellman cleared his throat. “You’re going to attempt to jump from here to the other side, right there next to the red flag, do you see it?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, in the distance, about a hundred metres from where they stood, stood a small wooden peg, about 40 cm above the snow, with a small scarlet handkerchief tied to it, “Yeah,” he said.

“Measuring distance is much harder while apparating than it is while walking, so don’t be too disoriented if you don’t land too close to the spot.” Sirius raised his eyebrow at that. “That’s why the risk of splinching is very high when you apparate to a place you don’t know. “You always run the risk of apparating in the spot where another object lays, and in that case, splinching would be the last of your issues.”

“Professor,” said Lily as she raised her hand. “I read somewhere that Apparating a few feet above the ground is recommended for younger wizards since it helps them avoid smaller objects that might be on the ground.”

“You can definitely do that. It’s especially recommended if you can’t see the place you’re apparating to. In part, it’s why we start apparition in winter, the snow cushions bad falls and helps numb you down if you splinch badly. At least until you’re taken to the infirmary.”

“Does that happen often?” Marle asked.

Spellman shrugged in response; his expression wasn’t all that reassuring either. “Mr. Black, are you ready?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“Good,” Spellman smiled. “Whoever apparates close enough to grab the flag without having to take a step towards it will earn 20 house points.”

“But we’re all Gryffindors,” said Beth.

“Makes no difference, it’s very rarely achieved on the first try,” Spellman said with a shrug. “If any of you achieve it on their second try, then it will be 10 points, and if you do it on the third, then only 5.”

“It’s all right,” said James, his voice turning almost instantly into the one he used on the pitch. “We have seven tries, that’s more than enough to get in the first go, isn’t it?” Lily, who stood next to him, seemed pretty impressed at how fast he’d gotten a hold of the situation; she had never been to a quidditch training with him, but it was the soft, authoritarian manner in which he carried himself that got the most of her attention. He was a brilliant leader. He’d make a fantastic prefect, she thought.

“Should I go for it?”

“Please,” Spellman said as he nodded and extended his hand in invitation. “Make sure you’re all at least a metre and a half away from him,” he added as he turned to the rest of you.

Sirius stepped forward and turned around, Remus took a step back and gently pulled you along with him, “for good measure,” he softly whispered in your ear as he leaned towards you. His warm breath prickled against your skin, and you almost shivered at his closeness. And assuming it was because of the cold, he took a step closer to you. You smiled and leaned your head on his shoulder in what you hoped was a friendly enough gesture for it not to be suspicious. Is it something you would have done to James? Right?

You tried to recall if you had ever done that to James, or Tom even, while Sirius looked ahead, his feet tapping on the snow and his breathing steady as he tried to hype himself up for apparating. It’s something I’ve done to Marlene and Lily countless times, you recalled; Beth and even to Clara from the reading club, back when she was complaining about the werewolf book. It’s a friendly enough gesture, you thought. As you leaned and you snuggled a little closer to Remus. Besides, it’s cold, and nobody’s looking.

Except someone was looking. Marlene had kept a close eye on the three of you since she was scared the complicit smiles could mean another prank, which meant more risk for the quidditch team. After all, they only had two reserve players, and you were three troublemakers; Teddy wasn’t all that great of a substitute captain, and games were always more fun with you around. And although she regarded the way in which you leaned onto Remus as nothing out of the ordinary –since it really was cold– and she was basically hogging Beth at that point, she did think the small, pleased smile from Remus as he looked at you was rather odd.

But by then, Sirius was nodding, ready to apparate by himself for the first time. He focused, and after another deep breath, he disappeared. There was a light shuffly sound, accompanied by a crack. Next thing you knew, Sirius was on the other side, about 2 metres away from the peg. He smiled triumphantly since he had done it on the first try.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Spellman asked Sirius, his voice loud and clear.

Sirius looked down to his chest and then to his arms, softly patting himself all over, he shrugged and then lifted both of his thumbs towards Spellman. Then he leaned down and tried to reach for the flag, but it was too far.

Spellman shook his head. “Come back, Mr. Black, it’s time for the next person to do it.” He turned back at your group. “Who’ll be next?”

“Me!” Marlene said as she walked towards Spellman. Sirius was about halfway back when the Professor nodded. Marlene took a deep breath, and there seemed to be a flicker, the hint of a crack, but she was still right where she stood.

“That’s good, you’re getting there,” Spellman encouraged.

“You’ve got this!” you said with a smile.

Merlene nodded to herself, holding her wand tighter than before and closing her eyes. She felt compressed all over, like she had before. By the time she was on the other side, her eyes ached, and she felt like she might get a headache. But as soon as she realised she had done it and that she was on the other side, you heard a nervous yet delighted laugh as she allowed herself to fall back on the thick layer of snow behind her. The coldness of it helped the soreness of her eyes that had –for a second– felt like they would recede back to her fucking brain.

Spellman looked at her and shook his head. “Miss Mckinnon, you may lay on the snow over on this side, we require you to continue with the exercise.

“Right,” Marlene said to herself as she looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, but in a nice cloudy way where you could still see the blue of the sky above. “Just a minute,” she shouted after, letting her head fall back and taking a few deep breaths. By then, Sirius had already returned.

“I was so close,” Sirius said as he approached the lot of you. “A meter closer and I would have gotten the flag easily. I know I’ll make it on the next try.”

“If I don’t get it on mine,” Prongs replied teasingly.

Sirius hummed in return, a complicit smile as he sat down beside you and Sirius on the snow. Once Marlene stood up, Spellman turned back to the group. “Who’s next?”

“I’ll go,” Remus said as he stood and walked a little further. You missed his warmth almost the second he left, a small shiver crawling from your lower back to your neck. Remus managed to do it on his first try. And while he was much closer to the peg than Sirius had been, it wasn’t close enough for him to reach it.

“How are you?” you asked Sirius once you made sure Remus was okay.

“Fantastic,” he said with a smile, taking your hand in his. “You didn’t bring your gloves, did you?”

“Nope,” you said as you curled your fist and dug it under the hem of your sweater. “You didn’t either.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have chronic cold hands,” he teased, pulling your hand to his stomach. “You don’t mind, do you?”

You smiled, pushing your hand down teasingly. “Do you?”

Sirius laughed at the way you brushed your fingers downwards. It was elating, and it certainly did a great deal to warm him, bIood running from his limbs to his cheeks and then south.

“Such a tease,” he laughed.

“Who's next?” Spellman asked.

You looked around, James looked rather comfortable and engaged in a conversation with Lily. And Beth didn’t look like she was going to go either, so you raised your hand.

“Excellent, please come forward.”

Remus was already halfway through the walk back when he noticed you’d be next and decided to wait for you where he was instead of continuing to walk. You stood from where you were, Sirius’ hand gently squeezing yours as you pulled it from his sweater.

You walked towards the place Spellman pointed, and once you made sure you were far enough from everyone, you concentrated on the other side. Thinking of landing right beside the pole as you closed your eyes. The Black lake looked dark and crisp ahead, Sirius looked at you from the side and gave you an encouraging thumbs up. Your mind went back to the last time you had apparated; you shook your head as if that could shake away the thought.

You looked at the wooden peg again, the flaming carmine flag waving proudly at the end. You breathed, trying to concentrate on that rather than on the disturbing memories that flashed through your head. That fact that none of the times you had appeared lately had any positive connotations not helping at all. As if you had been conditioned to associate apparition with something bad. And while your mind was more than ready, your magic seemed to refuse to cooperate.

But you had always been stubborn. You took a deep breath and looked at the flag again, Remus was there, not so far from it, perhaps about 10 meters or so. He was waiting for you on the other end, like he had always been. Calm, ready to pull you close and hold you until you feel better. You ought to have known you were in love with him way before you did. You smiled, and then you felt the pressure all around you. Breathing stopped, and you felt the discomfort on your chest, as if all of your limbs were being pressed into each other. It wasn’t pleasant, but none of it had bothered you before, and it wasn’t bothering you now, either. You heard the familiar pop; there was a change of air, colder, brisker, the breeze smelling much more of the familiar tangy smell of the Black Lake. The wind carried a distant gasp to your ears, and right as you opened your eyes, you saw Remus, looking quite startled, right by your side.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he took the one step that separated the two, placing his hands on your face as if he were checking for a fever. “You landed way too close to me.”

“Yeah, I’m…” You looked around; the flag was far from where you stood. You’d missed the mark by quite a lot. Nobody had landed that far from until then. Even Marlene, who'd had a hard time apparating, had landed closer than you. You looked at yourself: no splinching, no headache, no nausea. “I’m perfect,” you added, dumbfounded almost. “You? Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Not at all, it was a delightfully clean landing. You did startle me a little, though, I thought you’d get the flag.”

“I guess my mind focused on something else,” you added with a simple smile and an attentive look at him. He tilted his head to the side, about to reproach you because of how dangerous it had been when Spellman apparated a few metres away.

“Did she splinch?” he asked in a rush since Remus still had his hands over your shoulders. With a snap of his fingers, the house elves were also rushing towards the two of you, along with a hospital bed.

“Uh, no,” Remus said as he pulled his hands from you. “She’s fine.”

Spellman turned to you as if to confirm. “Yeah, yeah,” you nodded. “Perfectly fine, just got directions messed up, I guess.”

Spellman nodded, waving his hand at the elves, and they apparated back to where they had been initially: out of the way but ready to help if it was necessary. “I’ll apparate back there; please walk the way back together.” He said and then turned to Remus. “Mr. Lupin, if she starts feeling odd in any way, please inform me as soon as possible. Shoot red sparks to the sky if it’s necessary.”

“Yes, Professor.”

Spellman nodded and apparated back to the other side effortlessly. “Do you think we’ll ever be that good?”

You are already that good, he thought. If you really had been thinking of him and managed to apparate yourself less than a metre away without hurting him or yourself in the process. “Certainly,” he nodded.

Back with the rest of the group, Sirius was looking at the two of you with a smile while James walked over to the side, ready to be the next to try. He looked at the flag with a smile on his face, and once both you and Remus were far enough away, he got the nod from Spellman he was expecting. He landed half a meter away from the flag and picked it up, raising it in his hand while screaming, “I got it,” in delight.

He ran towards you and Remus, placing his hands on each of your shoulders as he dangled the red flag right next to your face. “You missed it, I landed so close, like Vix, but next to the actual flag and not you.” He said to Remus. “You should have seen it!”

You threw a look at Remus as James rambled on. There was nobody in the world that could boast as much as James and still be as likeable, you were certain.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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namikawa · 7 months ago

Text

— [the perfect host]

featuring: s. geto, s. gojo

cw: smut, implied threesome, cunnulingus, implied m/m, phone sex (?), daddy kink (ofc), established relationship (reader & gojo), fingering, fem reader, chubby reader, getting “caught” masturbating, use of the word cunt (sorry lol), aftercare, not proofread fr, anything else i forgot lolz, pet names (mama, baby, pretty, sweetheart, love). wc: n/a.

notes: this is actually a fic my friend wrote (never published) & i re did it with two diff characters & finished it for her cause she never did… so if yall like it GO TO HER BLOG ILL TAG HER. this wasn’t my og idea i just wrote the smut and tweaked & added. but enjoy pls, sorry i haven’t posted in so long life has beat me up. @nvmjccnluv !!!

“so explain to me why i’m watching her again, she seems completely capable of staying in your apartment alone yknow.” suguru questions over the phone. it’s not that he hates you, but what if he was busy? he wasn’t, but gojo didn’t need to know that, he didn’t even ask to be fair. quickly dropping you off after handing the long haired man a small bag of your things.

on the other end of the phone gojo lets out a huff of laughter. “had a few things to finish up, she gets too lonely when i leave her at home so i didn’t want her getting into things. you know how it is.”

“i actually don’t, but okay man.”

“anyway, she doesn’t like many people but she didn’t seem to mind you the last time we hung out, you seemed like a safe option.” gojo continues, sounding a bit strained.

“okay, whatever, fine.”

“where’s she at anyways? if she was with you she would’ve jumped your bones to get to the phone.”

walking toward the the closed door in the hallway, geto chuckles before reassuring his friend. “relax dude, she’s in the room taking a na- holy shit.”

“what happened??”

the dark haired man places his ear on the door to make sure he’s not hallucinating, not saying that he’s hoping to be.

muffled moans greet his ears, but not muffled enough evidently. no, you wanted him to hear. he would have to pass by your room anyways, given that you two would be sharing a wall for the night. but him being on the phone with your boyfriend was just a coincidence, an extremely embarrassing one.

he listens to your soft whines and high pitched whimpers for what feels like days, though its hasn’t even been half a minute, paying no mind to the man yelling at him on the phone.

“SUGURU? ANSWER ME! IS SHE OKAY? I SWEAR IF SOMETHING HAPPE-” at this point geto tries to think as hard as possible to come up with a lie that won’t get him killed by his friend.

snapping out of his daze, he finally gets enough courage to respond, “yeah um i’m pretty sure, maybe i’m wrong, i think she’s uh masturbating.”

“oh, oh okay” suguru can basically hear a smirk he knows all to well forming on gojos mouth. “don’t be a rude host, go help her out man.”

what the fuck is he talking about help you out? he can’t be understanding that this is his girlfriend he’s talking about, right? on top of that, shouldn’t he be asking you for consent as well.

“are you insane man? i know you’re into all that weird shit, but her? she’d probably kill me before i even got close to the bed and throw my dead body out of my own apartment.” as nice as it sounds he didn’t know if you’d be okay with any of this. he wasn’t going to just walk straight in, right?

there’s a loud howl that comes directly from the other end of the phone. “are you really being this much of a pussy right now? i’m giving you full permission to go help my girl out, and you wanna whine about how she might kill y-”

“shut the hell up man, i didn’t say anything about being a pussy.”

“alright, then there shouldn’t be an issue with you helping her out. don’t sit up on your high horse and act like you haven’t thought about it before, i know just how those perverted thoughts of yours work, don’t you rememb-”

“okay okay shut up satoru, im going.”

pushing open the door, the first thing geto notices is your hand rubbing lightly between your soft thighs and how your wetness soaks the bed, clear evidence of how needy you were. how long have you been at it?

gojo can hear you so clearly over the phone, he might as well be in the room with you, “shit, is that her pussy i’m hearing? whats it look like?” he questions, but unfortunately for him he receives no answer.

suguru is too busy enjoying the view and listening to the pathetic little sounds coming from your cunt. his sweatpants are slowly starting to fit a little tighter than before, but he doesn’t make any movements yet, just in case you don’t wanna play this little game.

almost immediately your soft eyes flutter open and lock into his, and he swears he just came in his pants.

“sugi, please, it hurts so much,” you whine out to him, desperate for his veiny hands on you. your own hand never seems to falter though, only moving in more erratic circles around your sensitive clit; while your other hand is busy touching your nipples, trying to get the most stimulation possible.

knowing that you were just as needy for him as he was for you made the man’s confidence peak. he gives you a light smile as he walks closer to the bed, softly sitting down next to you. he leans over you a bit, close enough to where you can smell the minty, almost overpowering, scent of his shampoo. half his hair loosely tied up in a bun, the other half falling past his shoulders as he looks down at you.

“something wrong, pretty? those fingers not doing enough for you, right? don’t ‘cha wanna wait for your boyfriend to come back so he can help you out, he’s on the phone you know.”

his soft hands begin to work at your thighs, but it seems like it’ll never be any more than that. continuing for a little longer, he presses the speaker button on his phone, handing it over to you as you pull away from your core.

“can you hear me, sweetheart?” gojo asks, now finally getting some time to speak to you after being ignored for so long. “i gave sugi permission to help you out, okay? does that sound alright to you?” he utilizes the small nickname you’d given his friend, innocently coercing you to be good.

you give a small “mmm” in agreement. then, opening your legs, you grab at suguru’s hand and place it between your thighs, just barely touching your cunt.

gojo continues, smiling to himself on the other side of the device. “‘kay. i’m gonna talk you through it, just so i know you’re treating my girl right. take two of your fingers and stuff it inside of her, she’ll clench up at first but just keep working at it and she’ll open up, okay? maybe if you do good, you can have something too.”

geto lets out an annoyed breath, short, but just long enough for gojo to catch it. he knows what that means. what’s even stopping him from fucking you in first place? it’s not like gojo would know. but as he looks into your pleading eyes he realizes he’d do anything to make sure you’re content and happy.. even if that means listening to satoru’s perverted requests.

his fingers slide down to rub at your clit just a bit, before burying his pointer and ring finger deep into your cunt, you clench so tight around him, it makes him feel like he’s dreaming the way your teeth suck at your bottom lip attempting to hide your whines.

“cmon pretty, open up for me. promise i’ll make you feel good, okay?”

a throaty whimper slides from between your lips as geto’s fingers work you open. “‘s good sugi, please like that more.” you scoot down a little more, chasing his fingers to get even just a little more stimulation.

“next you’re gonna press on her clit, just a little though she’s a sensitive little thing.” gojo groans out, it’s obvious he’s taken a break from his work to focus on… other things.

“yeah yeah, i know how to use my fingers, asshole.” suguru voices, clearly annoyed. although, he still abides by the instructions and moves his thumb to press on your clit just a tiny bit. your back arches away from his fingers almost immediately, like a natural instinct, he grabs your plush hips with his other hand, pulling you back down. “nuh uh, c’mere sweet girl, you wanted my help you’re gonna get it.”

his delicate fingers curve upward into you and you feel as if you’re floating on cloud nine, the way he flicks them at just the right speed while managing to hold you down and deepen his movements. it’s all too much for him you.

the sound of gojo’s voice breaks geto out of his daze, “fuck, i gotta go suguru. i know you’ll take care of her. i’m gonna have to cut this shit short, i’ll try to come back later tonight instead of tomorrow morning. love you guys, love you baby, be good for sugi okay?” geto’s eyes immediately flicker to yours, and you see just a little bit of what you think could be fear, or excitement, in his eyes.

“bye daddy, love you too.” you whine out, hearing a quick click before the call ends.

“daddy?” he questions. “knew he was into some shit, didn’t know you were too, sweet girl. you’re too pretty and innocent, or at least you put up a good act.” his fingers slide out of you as he snickers, not ignoring the way you pout at the loss of stimuli.

“nah, not gonna leave you here all needy don’t worry mama, just gonna do it my way, that sound good to you?” geto grabs you by your hips as you choke out a small “yea”, pushing you closer to the headboard of the bed. he fully removes his hair tie and throws all of it up into a bun, swiftly grabbing your underwear and pulling it off.

you look down at him as he crawls closer to you on his stomach, wrapping his arms around your thighs and closing them around his head. you feel his fingers spread your cunt apart, licking a long stripe onto you. your body tenses up, and on instinct your hand finds its way into suguru’s hair, tugging lightly. his head perks up at you, smiling, but eventually just deciding to leave you be.

his tongue swipes over your clit, taking small breaths occasionally as he tastes your cunt. neither one of you know who this is really for at this point. he’s supposed to be ‘helping you’ but with the tent growing in his sweats he might as well be doing this for his own pleasure instead. you continue to take harsh pulls at his dark strands, so unfamiliar to you. mostly with satoru you opted for scratching at his shoulders or gripping at the sheets due to the length he kept his hair, but this, this was something you could get used to.

“sugi please, m so close, want it so bad, need you to make me cum.” you cry out, loving the way his nose rubs against your clit as he licks.

he doesn’t say anything, he can’t really, but you know he understands. he grips your thighs tighter, licking the same way as before, occasionally sucking at your clit, and before you know it you’re squirming all over his face as that familiar feeling rushes over you.

the only thing that suguru could make out of your cries were “thank you”, “so good”, and “daddy”? he wasn’t sure if you were calling him daddy or if you wanted gojo, but at this point it didn’t really matter to him. he pleased you and that’s all he needed to make him feel better.

as he lifted his head up from your pussy he could already tell how tired you were getting, he immediately grabbed you a change of clothes that gojo had packed and cleaned you up with a wet washcloth. “everything okay, mama? need anything?” your eyes strain open and you smile at the man standing above you, “i’m okay, thank you for your help. will you stay?” you could tell that he genuinely cared for you, and was worried he had done something wrong by the tone in his voice. him staying was more for him rather than yourself, not that you were complaining.

he pulled off his shirt as he crawled into bed next to you. grabbing his phone from the bedside table he saw that gojo had sent him a message.

“i’ll take care of you both when i’m back, cause i’m betting you didn’t take anything for yourself. see you both soon ;)”

suguru chuckled to himself at the message from his friend, looking down at you peacefully sleeping on his chest. maybe he could get used to something like this? but for now, he’s content.

#satosugu #gojo satoru #gojo saturo smut #geto suguru #geto suguru smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #geto x you #✉️#getou suguru x reader #geto smut #geto fluff #gojo fluff

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aceissomunster · 5 months ago

Text

Clearing up misconceptions and such about Tim Drake for all you non-comic reading fic-writers and people that just don’t know. Mostly chronologically

Under the cut, cause this is gonna get long ,,

While Tim isn’t my favorite batfamily member, or even robin in particular, he is the one whose comics i’ve read the most of and know the most about.

If i’m wrong about any of this, please let me know!

- Tim’s parents weren’t especially abusive. they were neglectful, as in leaving him with the nannies and sending him off to boarding schools when they were out of the country, which was frequently. also, they did love him. i don’t even know where people got the idea that they didn’t.

- Tim did not stalk the bats, until he noticed Batman’s grief-driven violence and decided to follow, photograph, and gather evidence

- he also didn’t just go up to Bruce and ask to be Robin, he actually tracked down Dick Grayson to the circus and tried to convince him to come back to being Robin. Dick drove him to the manor, and then found out Tim’s whole story.

then Alfred let him down into the cave, Batman and Nightwing got captured by Two-Face, and Alfred practically threw the Robin costume at him and they went to save Batman and Nightwing. THEN Tim told Bruce that he was Robin. (— A Lonely Place of Dying, Tim’s 13)

- Before even becoming Robin fully, Tim’s parents were kidnapped and held for ransom in Haiti by a man called the “Obeah Man” (“Obeah” translates roughly to black magic, I’m pretty sure). Batman finds them by following the people that were going to pay the ransom, and they were being kept in some underground place? I’m not sure, but it was really really hot. There’s a pitcher of water, and Janet drinks it, and Jack starts drinking it, and Janet dies near-instantly, and Batman smacks the water out of Jack’s hands but Jack still ends up completely paralyzed and put into a coma. (— Rite of Passage)

- Fun fact: Janet’s funeral was Christmas eve

- it’s only after his mother’s death and father’s hospitalization that he goes to Paris (keep in mind, Batman did not force him to go, Tim wanted to!) to train under Rahul Lama, and then with Lady Shiva. (Robin mini 1)

- he doesn’t actually get trained by Shiva in the run, but it’s vaguely implied

- Fun fact: Tim actually kills Lady Shiva once (i forget what the storyline’s called, but it’s somewhere in Robin 52-55 ish)

- OH YEAH, Jason Todd was NOT Tim’s Robin. Tim Drake has been Dick Grayson’s #1 fanboy since the circus. He could not care less about Jason

- Fun fact: early in his Robin career, he hallucinated Dick and Jason as Robin (even though Dick was very alive) giving him advice

- He had friends outside of YJ. Like his best friend Sebastian Ives, his friend Callie, his (ex) girlfriend Ariana Dzerchenko, and a good bit more.

- he started dating Steph as Robin while dating Ariana as Tim, but Ari and Tim broke up like the day after Steph and Tim got together (not because of Steph, Ari didn’t know Tim was Robin, but because of other stuff that happened. go read Robin.)

- fun fact: Tim actually didn’t have contingency plans for Young Justice/the Titans, because he actually trusts them, unlike his mentor. (this is mentioned sometime in Young Justice 1998, but I don’t remember the issue)

- Tim’s 16 (not 14 or whatever THOSE tim stans try to say) and on the Teen Titans, when the fabled and constantly over-exaggerated “Titan’s Tower incident” occurs. Tim is fully suited up in the Robin suit, he puts up a good fight with Jason (who is in an adult-sized Robin costume, by the way) until he gets knocked out. This fight leaves no lasting injuries on Tim. (Teen Titans (2003) #29)

- the whole Jason slitting his throat thing happens in a different comic. (Batman: Hush, i’m pretty sure, correct me if i’m wrong)

- Tim also kicks Jason in the nuts the next time he sees him, so there’s not really any hard feelings there.

- Tim’s dad finds out he’s Robin and makes him quit, and Steph becomes Robin. Then Steph dies and Tim’s school gets shot up and he becomes Robin again.

- Tim leaves Jack alone at their home to go find the man sent to kill him. While he’s gone, the man (Captain Boomerang) kills Jack. (— Identity Crisis #5)

- after Jack dies, Bruce offers to adopt Tim and Tim turns him down and creates a fake uncle. Batman finds out the uncle is fake, commends him on his good job of making a fake uncle, and helps him make it better. Bruce later offers again to adopt Tim and he accepts. Damian literally shows up like the very issue after this in Batman

- Kon dies, then Bart dies a bit after. And, not to hate on yall TimKon shippers out there, but he also planned to clone Bart, and also in TT03 like 50-53ish, when him and the other Titans run into their future evil selves again, their Superman (Kon) and Flash (Bart) are clones.

- All those deaths happen relatively close together and in that order, I think, when Tim’s 16-17. But comic timelines are weird, like how Tim was 15 when the Quake hit and for the year-long duration of No Man’s Land (from New Year’s to New Year’s), he stays 15.

- When Bruce “dies” and Dick (Batman) makes Damian Robin. Damian needs guidance, and Dick wants him and Tim to be equals. Dick had good intentions and did the right thing! He just didn’t have the best execution.

- When Tim finds the painting and tells Dick about it, Dick DOES NOT THREATEN TO SEND HIM TO ARKHAM. He, reasonably (considering all the losses Tim has just faced) assumes Tim needs mental help and grief counseling, and recommends him a therapist in Metropolis.

- Tim decides to just go find evidence that Bruce isn’t dead by himself, and steals the Red Robin suit and runs off without even telling Alfred (Red Robin)

- Ra’s al Ghul sends people to kill Tim at first, but Tim obviously doesn’t die and breaks Pru’s nose twice. Eventually and reluctantly, Tim accepts the League’s help and resources.

- Tim finds his best piece of evidence in a cave in the desert with Pru, Z, and Owens. right after leaving the cave, an assassin attacks them, killing Z and Owens, slitting Pru’s throat, and stabbing Tim. Tim, ACTIVELY BLEEDING OUT, brings himself and Pru to the car they used to get there, drives to a hotel, CLIMBS UP THE BUILDING TO ONE OF THE TOP FLOORS WITH PRU WHILE THEY ARE BOTH BLEEDING OUT, and passes out on the bed, where Tam Fox (sent by Lucius to go find Tim) finds them. and so do a bunch of ninjas.

- Tim had to have his spleen removed because it was kebabed with a sword and was going to rupture. Ra’s also does NOT keep it in a jar.

- during the whole LOA part of RR, Ra’s is NOT preying on Tim. there is NO ROMANCE THERE. (no offense if you see it or think it’s implied, but to me it’s just really not?) its just RESPECT.

- with the whole bases exploding thing, its because the Council of Spiders was there and also he just doesn’t like the LOA. he gave them like 15 seconds to get out, obviously all the assassins managed to get out of the massive, complex bases in 15 seconds. (comic logic: if it’s not specified that it did kill them, then it didn’t.)

- the whole “Damian cutting Tim’s line” is also very exaggerated. Damian did it because of Tim’s “Hit List” and because Damian was on it. and Tim fell a few feet, caught himself, then fought Damian (neither won because Dick broke it up because they were literally right in front of THE alley.)

- not really a timeline thing, but in general, tim is VERY against murder. Part of the reason for this is Batman’s morals, which he built his own around, sure. But I think an even BIGGER part of his moral code is just to not become evil future gun Batman. And evil future gun Batman has no qualms against murder, he even killed Damian.

that’s pretty much the main stuff i wanted to touch on. LMK if i should add anything else or if i got anything wrong, thanks!!

No hate if u use the fanon stuff btw, i just know that a lot of people don’t read the comics and don’t know the actual information.

If you want pictures of some of these events from the comics, just lmk and I’ll provide

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sleepy-grav3 · 1 month ago

Text

Coping Mechanisms

A/n: This was sitting in my oneshots folder for a while, unfinished. I finally finished it so uh, here you go. Enjoy.

Backstory: After taken by the GIW, Danny's core was shattered. The bats found him and took him in. However, he's severely mentally damaged and is starting to stall his healing process.

TW: Mentions of vivisection, mention of organs in jars, mention of Jason's death, flashbacks, hallucinations, mention of injuries

Danny's obsession is Space and Protection; Danny is the Ghost King; Never mentioned what happened to the rest of the Fentons, that's up to speculations; Assumed that the Drs. Fenton had been experimenting on Danny long-term before fully locking him up in the basement; Bruce/Lady Gotham; Alfred is dead or dead-adjacent, making him immortal; child/baby ghosts are referred to as wisps

This is for sign language because there isn't a way to underline the words, which is my preferred style

He didn’t know how long he spent there. All he knew was that the damage done had left scars, something he wasn’t able to gain ever since the accident. He remembered words, cut off sentences from people, that told him why that wasn’t possible.

“Injuries to your emotional state are dangerous”

“You can heal physical wounds, but not those from the heart”

“You can regenerate limbs”

“Your human form is weaker”

“You’re stronger than most ghosts”

“Halfas have extra healing abilities”

“Your core can regenerate as long as your heart keeps beating”

“The subject’s heart is slowing down”

“The subject can live without a heartbeat”

“The Subject can regenerate vital organs”

“Like a human, the spine controls it’s movements, and shuts down the subject similarly to when its brain is removed”

Danny gasped, trembling as he pulled at his hair. No tears came, not even fake green ones to make up for it. His body was still trying to heal the damage done to it, working against his broken core for his sake.

His chest hurt differently. Each time he moved or felt something, his core would cry out in pain. He thought he’d let out a pseudo-wail if it wasn’t broken. If he weren’t broken.

Danny remembered all the jars around him, choking out another gasp as he dragged his hands down his face. He could feel stings from his temples down to his chin before he felt the bandages around his neck.

He couldn’t understand where the stinging came from, only seeing an empty lab with him sitting on a metal table, chains on his wrists and ankles. He blinked a couple times before he saw images of the dark room he was in, but the lab wouldn’t go away.

He stood up, ignoring his body that screamed in protest, and ran out of the room into fake white hallways.

The bats were at the table, only Jason, Duke, Damian, and Danny being missing.

Jason was taking advantage of the fact that he had a flexible schedule to work day and night.

Duke was out on patrol, now having an extra job of helping the dead that resided in the city (only recently he became able to see them, though with some practice).

Damian, however, had only left recently, rushing to get to Danny who was having another episode.

They had saved him a month ago, but it took about 3 weeks for him to wake up. Ever since he woke up, he’s been having episodes. The only way to snap him out of it was to have certain family members shake him out of it, the rest being attacked or avoided outright.

Jason and Alfred were the exception, as Danny would try to save them. They avoided having them get Danny to snap out of it as much as possible, as it would lengthen the time it takes to calm him down.

It hurt them each time an episode came around. It hurt to see Danny’s bandaged and practically mummified figure each time he left his room during an episode or to get some fresh air. And even when the latter happened, he would dissociate or end up breaking down with no tears.

It was only a little over a week into the start of the episodes and they were seeing signs of new injuries. They had to do something, but what could they do? They've filed down his nails, removed sharp objects from his vicinity and locked up the ones that belongs to others, they've safety proofed sharp corners of furniture!

But it wasn't enough.

They had to resort to putting visible cameras in his room. It at least made him hesitate or stop when he was fully there.

Ding-Dong

Alfred shivered. Of course their only proper visitor was a ghost. They never can have a normal one, can they?

Alfred walked over to the front door, opening it without hesitation. There, he was met with a gray skinned woman with a long black dress with a slit by her left thigh and a V neck. She also wore gold hoop earrings, a black sun hat, held a black and gold smoke pipe, and had black sunglasses to cover her near-black purple eyes.

“Lady Gotham, I was not expecting you. Come in.”

Alfred stepped aside, allowing her into his haunt. She smiled at him, waltzing into the manor as she had long bypassed the gates. Alfred led her to one of the living rooms. The one they’d use for interviews. Alfred started to prepare some tea as she took a seat at the edge of a sofa, taking a breath from her smoke pipe and letting out a purple haze.

Alfred didn’t mind it, as what she was smoking wasn’t harmful. It was for the sake of refueling at least part of her strength. Her eyes glowed a lighter purple, black nail becoming a little lighter. It was hard to see her so corrupted by the curses that resided in her haunt.

“Phantom is beginning to stall his healing process.”

Alfred froze for a moment before picking up the tea pot and pouring the tea.

“It’s already difficult to calm him down when he’s in his episodes. He’s barely able to hold down anything he eats and can’t sleep well. We’ve given him multiple shots and used healing magic from the local witch shop. We don’t know what else to do.”

He served the drinks and sat down. Lady gotham picked up her cup and plate, taking a sip from it. She let out a sigh of satisfaction, remaining silent for a while so the 2 could at least finish their drinks before acting on plans.

“I was thinking about having another rogue run about.”

“Isn’t it difficult enough with the ones we have? And how would another help Master Danny?”

Lady Gotham smiled, looking at the tea left in her cup.

“Obsessions have a tight hold on those like us. Perhaps, if Phantom gives in a little to them, he’d stop trying to punish himself.”

“His obsession is protection. How would he even be a rogue?”

Lady Gotham’s smile widened, showing her sharp teeth behind gold-dusted, violet lips. Alfred hasn’t seen that smile since she elected to make Bruce her official knight through a spirit contract.

“Don’t you know? He absolutely adores space. Wouldn’t it be quite the process to rid this city of its polluted and cursed smog to view it?”

“His core is cracked and small pieces are missing. Not to mention his severe injuries. How would he be able to work? Ancients- how would he be able to avoid fighting your knights?”

“Mm, I’m sure he’d figure something out. Being powerless never stopped any of our other rogues. He might even get inspired by that politician. Lewis, was it?”

“Lex Luthor. At least you got the L right this time.”

“Ah, no matter. He’s not relevant.”

“You brought him up.”

“Oh shush. We have work to do. Finish your tea, let us speak with the wisp of a king.”

Alfred drank the last of his tea and stood up, leading Lady Gotham to Danny’s room. Once there, he found Danny completing a space puzzle on the desk of his room. From the new bandages on his face and hands, Alfred could tell the episode from that morning had resulted in further injury.

“King Phantom,” That title made Danny perk up, turning to them with brighter blue eyes. “Lady Gotham and I wish to speak with you.”

Danny adjusted his chair and body to face them without trouble. Alfred summoned a small table and 2 chairs, allowing the spirits to sit down.

“Phantom, I’ve noticed that you are stalling your healing process.” Danny flinched at Lady Gotham’s words. “My little wisp… you must know that this dimension and those that branch with it will cease to exist if your End comes to be.”

Danny’s eyes widened. Panic seeped into him as he tried to push his healing to go faster, ignoring the strain of his core. Alfred cleared his throat, making Danny jump and stop forcing the healing out of surprise.

“Master Danny, straining your core isn’t necessary. In fact, it may make things worse. Might we suggest another method.”

Danny hesitantly nodded.

“Lady Gotham offered that you indulge in your obsession. And yes, the sky is covered in smog. That’s where our suggestion comes into play.” Alfred smiled at him. “Why not become a rogue?”

Danny’s eyes widened once more as he quickly shook his head. Lady Gotham gave him the stare, making him freeze up.

“Now, now. A wisp like you should be allowed to indulge in their obsessions in peace. Really, it wouldn’t be a problem with how you’ll work. Attack those causing the air pollution, get rid of some curses, free the sky. Maybe steal some space themed objects here and there. I’m not quite sure how you’d move about or what your alias will be, but it’s perfectly fine. You don’t need to hurt people to be a criminal. And fulfilling your obsession will recharge your power.”

Danny was slow to process. And soon, the way he thought through it transitioned to plans. He pursed his lips as he thought of it all, but eventually shook his head.

“Bats”

“We could speak with them.” Alfred insisted. “Go over plans and ideas. Your health is still a concern, but I highly insist that you go through with this. We are all worried for you, Master Danny. It hurts to see you suffer. Please think more about it.”

Danny remained silent. Lady Gotham stood up and the 3 pieces of furniture disappeared, Alfred starting to clean. She went up to Danny and held out her hand. Danny looked at it before reaching out his own and placing it on hers.

“You’re safe here, my wisp. Trust in my knights. You needn’t fight any longer. Only exist. Do not End yourself. You’re worth more than you believe.”

Bruce and Damian perked up when they came back to the cave to see Danny sitting by the computer. He was watching clips of Martian Manhunter and Miss Martian fighting. It was a nice change of pace compared to other times they interacted. It was peaceful.

“Daniel, I did not think you were interested in the cave.” Damian hummed as he walked over, taking off his mask.

Danny turned his chair and looked over at them.

“My healing is being stalled.”

They froze. Damian’s breathing had stopped before the boy convinced himself to do the breathing practices taught to him. Bruce, on the other hand, felt his heart drop. His hands trembled. The sight of Jason’s dead body flashing through his mind.

Bruce almost asked for a ‘report’. That tended to be something that calmed him and his children down enough for them to talk. But that wouldn’t work for Danny. That shouldn’t work. He hoped Danny was willing to talk more. He hoped that there was something to fix this.

“Is there anything we could do?” Bruce asked.

Danny pursed his lips, averting his eyes. Damian narrowed his eyes.

“Daniel. If there is something we could do, speak. It is troublesome as long as it is related to you.”

“Damian is right, Danny. Please. Tell us what to do.”

They got closer, practically at arms length. Damian didn’t have his domino mask on, but Bruce kept his cowl. He needed Batman. He wouldn’t be able to stay together as Bruce right now.

Danny looked up at Bruce and over at Damian before sighing.

“Lady Gotham said that I need to indulge in my obsession more. But when ghosts don’t pull back… it gets extreme. It appears unhealthy. I would…” Danny hesitated once more. “Lady Gotham and Alfred thought becoming a rogue would be the best way.”

The vigilante stood silent for a moment, Bruce processing what was told while Damian thought it through.

“Would going to the Watchtower not be enough?” Batman asked.

“He’d only crave more from there.” Damian mentioned. “What he needs is something long-term. We cannot safely allow him to go to other planets as he is now. However, if he steals and tries enough to get rid of the smog, the amount of time should be sufficient, assuming that’s how obsessions could work.”

Danny’s shoulders let go of some tension.

“The harder it is, the more it satisfies the ghost. I was thinking of targeting companies that cause air pollution. But there’s also curses, so I’ll need to work through them with magic practice.”

Bruce and Damian grimaced at the mention of magic.

“You should talk with Tim about this. He’d be able to plan out how you’d go about. Just don’t overdo it. We don’t want you to get hurt. But know that we will try to stop you.” Bruce said, taking off his cowl, smiling at his new son. “Go and design your suit. I’ll have it made. But make sure your identity is hidden, alright?”

Danny nodded and got up, leaving the 2 to clean themselves up before heading off to bed.

————————————————

Everyone in the batfam got into the vigilante business. It was just a thing. Danny broke that trend, but not the way any of them expected him to.

One day, Danny will retire. No capes, no masks. Just a civilian.

But that day will only come when his healing is finished. With how difficult it was to mend a broken core, not to mention the organs his body had put off regenerating, it would be a long time until then. Years, decades maybe.

The backstory was simple.

It was publicly known that he was a lab rat. Though they thought it was his parents had begun it from young like they had with Jazz (which was the reason why she was smart enough to skip a few classes in college, an excuse really). He’ll play into that. I want to see the sky. And he’ll be a crazy brat about it.

Commissioner Gordon had already shared with him that he had legal immunity until the acts and the GIW were fully taken down. Otherwise, he’d have to be executed under the law. In other words, any and all crimes he committed until then was permitted. He was going to use that to his advantage.

The suit was hard to come up with. He had to make it look shaggy and like normal clothing. He needed an easy to follow theme. He visited Selina and Nygma for it all. Jason came around and gave him some pointers. Tim had made him swear that he had to be on his game to not be caught early or at all. He couldn’t ask any of the bats to help, not unless his life was in danger.

Red Hood could help him.

Signal could hang out with him.

Red Robin could banter on a personal level with him.

It was difficult to get there, but the process helped feed his obsession. He was ready. He wanted to get better. He had to. He had people who care about him. He couldn’t hurt them by allowing himself to waste away, no matter how draining and painful it was to continue to heal.

He was going to get better. For them.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #batfam #ghost king danny #giw #rogue! danny #I see him more are an anti-hero tho #like red hood #but he's going to be like Poison Ivy so... rogue #I can see Poison Ivy and him teaming up #Maybe Riddler spread the word and Ivy offered to be his partner in crime once in a while?#she's being good now but she reverts here and there #What plant names relates to ghosts?#Would danny pick a ghost related alias?#he's not going to be using ghost powers for a while #poor danny

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yawneon · 1 year ago

Text

ameliorate

a/n : i’ve never publicly posted a fic/drabble here before so i’m nervous about this and i’m knew to fandom writing so bare with me.. (thanks if u read this, love u lots (b ᵔ▽ᵔ)b )

pairing : luke castellan x apollo kid!reader

summary : you were there when thalia got turned into the pine tree. you were a healer, why couldn’t you have healed her?

!!! : angst, luke comforts reader, gn!reader, reader has a lot of emotional turmoil, a lot of self-loathe, reader blames themselves, i tried my best okay (｡•́︿•̀｡), you can read this to be platonic or romantic idfk, pre-percy

————— ୨୧ —————

a healer, that was your job.

ever since you took a step into the camp, you were given a role and that role is what you were going to do. heal and protect others, that is your purpose.

it was going to be easy. how hard could it be? heal some cuts here and there, maybe a sprained ankle when luke went too rough on another camper.

that’s what you thought it was gonna be. that’s what it was meant to be.

the events of that day still run circles in your mind. you should’ve done more, you could have. it was hard for everyone of course it was. grover failed at his job, luke and annabeth lost their sister. it was selfish thinking like this wasn’t it? to feel like you were the one taking it the hardest.

a sigh comes out shakily from your throat as you stand infront of thalia. your hand drags along the rough wooden exterior that once used to be her skin. trailing down you feel the gritty moss beneath your touch and you remember her soft hair, her laugh, her eyes. it was self torture thinking like this. you knew that.

but you were a healer.

why couldn’t you heal her back to normal? people at camp- no even chiron said that your powers are some of the best he’s ever seen so why the fuck can you not heal her back to normal? why in that moment you couldn’t have had some instinct to heal her? what was wrong with you? you had every chance to save thalia,

why did you not take it?

before you realise it tears stream down your face and your knelt infront of the solid lumber which was once your friend, your sister. on both knees you cry into your hands. thalia was gone and you failed your whole purpose.

you heal people.

you lost count of how long it was since you came to see thalia. had it been 20 minutes? maybe an hour? you didn’t know. you stood yourself up now, tears still silently rolling down your cheeks. you were stuck in your head for what felt like weeks, years almost. you came to do this often, to see thalia. to try and erase the guilt that built in your stomach and plagued your mind every living moment of every living day.

you were sick and you were tired, exhausted if you must. you wished she would wake up, gods you wished you would wake up and this would all be some batshit hallucination. but alas, the gods don’t respond to such calls.

you feel a breeze hit you, it wasn’t cold but you still shivered at the feeling. you close your eyes hoping for something to happen. you wait,

one second,

then two,

then th- are those arms around your waist right now?

“shit!” you jump, feeling two strong arms curl around your waist. turning around your met with the goofy smile of luke castellan. “sorry, sunshine.” he laughs softly, quickly you raise your hands to your face wiping your eyes and he tuts his tongue at you. “why are you hiding away from me?” luke pouts at you, one arm secured around your middle while his other hand reaches to your face cupping your cheek.

“what are you doing out here?” you say clearing your throat to stable your voice. “i’m here to make sure your not in your head.” he grabs the top of your head and shakes it about and you swat away his hands with a soft “quit it.”

“i was just about to head back in” you say, let me rephrase that. you- “your lying.” he says and quite literally takes the words out of my mouth.

“we all wish we could’ve saved her, sunshine.” luke coos, standing next to you now. his hand now securely on your shoulder pulling you close to comfort you. it was ironic calling you sunshine honestly. yeah your dad was apollo, greek god of sun and light, but your light was dimmer compared to your bright and bouncy siblings. a rough sigh escapes your throat and you hang your head low, “i could’ve done more. i should have luke you don’t get it.” you murmured.

luke looks at you worriedly, his hand rubbing your shoulder warmly. “we all wish that, sunny.” another contridictive nickname. “i know what is going on in that brain of yours you know.” luke’s the one that sighed now. “you know your abilities a lot more deeply now, you were a kid back then. we all were, you can’t keep blaming yourself for things that a kid who was barely a teenager could have never done.” luke emphasised, his eyes drawing from thalia to look at you.

“she isn’t even dead, sunshine.” luke smiles solemnly at you, his lips forming a tight line before the corners of it rise. “she’s right here.” his hand touches the bark of the tree. “right here with all of us.”

luke’s hands draw to both of your shoulders and he turns your body so both of you are face to face. “no matter how strong someone is, you can’t save everyone.” he nods sadly, “i know you wish you could, but you can’t.” he bites his inner cheek to stop his own tears from pooling out. “sun-“ before he could finish that sentence your arms were around him, embracing him softly. no words had to be spoken for luke to just hug you back. soft sobs escaping your throat as you cry into his warm body.

you two stood there for a while but that didn’t matter to him, he was your friend and he was your pillar in this time of need. no matter how wet his tshirt was right now, it didn’t matter. luke would rather stand there and hug you for a century, for a millenia, for fucking ever if that meant that you were gonna be okay. he’ll be there right by your side through everything. you’ll heal every one of his cuts and he’ll fight the ares kid that makes fun of you during capture the flag and then you’ll bake him blue cupcakes as a thank you.

you were a healer.

and despite not being able to save your sister, thalia. you vow to never let anyone else go through that. you were a healer and you will heal others and yourself for her.

f/n

————— ୨୧ —————

#percy jackson #pjo series #pjo tv show #pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #angst #fluff #comfort #sunshine #apollo #luke castellan isn’t evil here #post-thalia

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justabunchofdragons · 4 months ago

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s8 e19 spoilers im not normal about this

wilson knowing without hesitation the names, ages, types of cancer, survival expectation and death day of 3 people who died years ago when he sees death every day is so fucking special to me. you know he hasn't forgotten any death in all his years of doctoring

wilson feeds off neediness but would rather kill himself than be pitied. "if there's even a CHANCE i die slowly in a hospital bed being gawked at and lied to about how i look i won't take it" wilson you crazy bastard.

(god there's just something about this reaction vs how house acts when he's hospitalised. i don't have the words or coherence rn but its at least a 500 word essay)

house offering to do it at his apartment (i hate this i love you im putting myself in a position where you can't leave or kick me out because i need you to know i care about you and won't let you be alone)

house explaining how much pain wilson will be in and wilson realising afterwards that he was talking from experience

house saying him and wilson have "all they need" in the apartment after wilson voicing his upset about not having a wife and kids to look after him. this whole episode is just a declaration of love. what even happened with the patient i was NOT paying attention

wilson hallucinating the kid specifically. he wants to suffer because he takes all the death and suffering on his head he DOES feel like he deserves it he just had the simultaneous realisation that he also wants to live ("would i do it all again? make the same mistakes? given half the chance, yes. yes.")

wilson sobbing about not wanting to die in an ambulance, not wanting to die in a hospital. something something amber's last moments being so painfully lucid. so clearly surrounded by death. by the failure of her own body to keep her alive. in that huge white room being able to see the bypass machine keeping her alive. hearing the heart monitor. a bed too small for the two of them. he's seen so many people die in hospitals. he's heard of so many people dying in ambulances. its the desperation of it all. the ultimate place of healing and when it fails it breaks your world into 7 billion little pieces.

something something amber died of the flu wilson the oncologist dying of cancer. "young do gooders shouldn't suffer like that"

house promising not to do it. house not lying about it. house not getting one wink of sleep because he has to check for wilson's chest rising and falling.

house clearly taking wilson's insults to heart but making sure his friend doesn't feel bad about it. head in hands.........

this point has been made to hell and back but house weighing up the vicodin and choosing alcohol instead. 1. he doesn't have a stockpile anymore. and 2. he cares so much. he cares so much. he knows his best friend might be dying on his couch and he doesn't want those last moments to be painful

wilson laughing so hard at house's stupid vacation photoshoot. i wanna bottle that joy up and listen to it when im upset

#chaos.txt #cee's house rambles #house md #house md season 8 #the c word #hilson #james wilson #gregory house #the collective watches house md

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coeurify · 2 years ago

Note

hear me out…. bumping into ellie wasted at a nightclub dancing makin out then she recognises u irl a week or smth later n it is on!!!!!!

ok.. this took a turn to be more post makeout fluffy loser ellie so.. yea!

Ellie was not someone who made out with girls in clubs, drunk off of whiskey she only ordered to try and show off to Jesse and Dina. Sure, she saw it happen— it was normal. But no, Ellie definitely did not.

Ellie never called herself a pussy, she would never admit that. But Jesse had no problem snickering it whenever her freckled cheeks were painted red after a girl looked at her at a bar or club. She didn’t usually do anything about it. Hell, the last time Ellie got laid it was because a girl had straight up asked her. Ellie just was not the best at all that.. seduction shit.

Nor was she good with no strings attached shit. That one-off hookup turned into a situationship that she couldn’t let go of. Ellie also had a tendency to pine over the most minor interactions with people. Once, a barista handed her a straw and after their fingers touched, she convinced herself it was the love of her life for the next week. So.. one night stands or messy kisses in the dim lights of clubs were not exactly her thing.

Except for once. Last Saturday, 12:07 am. Not that she had memorized it or anything. Totally not. She definitely had not scorched the night’s memory (of her hands against hips, lips that tasted like the cranberry juice mixer against her own, soft hands pulling her bun out to run fingers through it) into her brain. No way.

What Ellie will admit she remembers was the embarrassment that singed the baby hairs on the back of her neck as Dina slapped an arm on her back, the three drunk young adults clambering out of the tightly packed club close to 1 am. “I knew you had it in you! You totally rocked that girl’s world. Jesse, you owe me five bucks.” Then Dina had stuck an expectant hand out to Jesse, causing a short offended gasp from Ellie. “You made a bet on me?”

They did. Ellie’s own best friends had no faith in her ability to have quick and fun hookups like everyone else their age. But she had proved them wrong! She had made out with a really, really pretty girl.. no strings attached.

She didn’t even know your name. Not that she had to. You were both all too happy to skip the pleasantries and get straight to having your hands on each other. It wasn’t like she was wondering what your name was, and if she could find you somewhere on social media the entire walk home that night.

Definitely not. She convinced herself of this every day since then. Every time she saw a flash of hair that looked like yours around, or when her brain went a little haywire, and she came back to the messy sketch of your eyes on her notebook.

Within the week, Ellie had forced herself to get a grip. It was just some random making out, for fucks sake. She had no reason to daydream about how you had keened into her when she bit at your bottom lip. No right to be squeezing her eyes shut to remember how it felt to have your hand slip up the loose material of her shirt, heated touches against her stomach.

No, those flashbacks started to settle simply from the pure stubbornness of her own brain, which shot scoffs and head shakes straight out every time one popped up again.

But now, with her back pressed to the uncomfortable metal of a cafe chair, flannel pushed up to her elbows as she tilted her head back to enjoy the breeze from the sky, she started to think again.

Dina was leaning over a menu, biting her lip as she tried to decide what drink to order. It had been Dina who suggested they sit outside, at this particular cafe, so maybe El should blame what happened next on her.

The soft sound of the door swinging open sounded, bringing the auburn-haired girl’s face down from where it tilted into the sky.

For a second, she thought she was hallucinating. Really. Maybe something had been slipped into the water next to her, or maybe Dina had like— poisoned her for calling her annoying earlier. Because certainly, this was not real.

Your hair, the one she had brought her hands to tug at the other night, was on full display, your head tilted down as you rummaged through an apron with the cafe’s name printed on it. Ellie knew it was you right away, and blinked a few times to ensure this was not some evil hallucination.

The auburn-haired girl sat up a little straighter on the chair, causing an awfully loud screech against the cement. Your head came up simultaneously, the pen now in hand.

“Sorry,” you apologized, flipping to an empty page in your little order book. “Had to find a pen. What can I get you guys?”

You smiled, just like you had under the flashing lights of that club, and it was just as pretty as Ellie remembered. But when your eyes met hers, that smile faltered slightly. The pen slipped from your grip, clambering right onto the table with a very annoying ping sound.

Dina reached her hand to grab it, but Ellie was faster. As if was some competition, she leaned slightly over the table and wrapped her fingers around the pen, holding it up for you. “Here,” she mumbled, trying to keep any voice crack to herself. “Thanks..” you hummed, sniffling.

Dina eyed between the two of you, slightly convinced she had just been forced into the middle of some awful cheesy romcom, something that would be promoted with big blocky letters like ‘cafe meet cute!’ She cleared her throat, breaking the weirdly tension-filled stare down happening between the two of you.

“Sorry—“ you apologized, throwing on another cheery smile as you looked at Dina, “what can I get you?”

Ellie doesn’t even hear Dina’s order, and she also doesn’t prepare hers. She is too busy nervously twisting a finger between her other hand in her lap, sneaking very obvious glances at you, and then back down to the menu that looks like pure gibberish.

“Cool! And for you?” your voice questions next, smooth and sweet in a way that had the film reel of Saturday playing in Ellie’s head all over again.

“You can kiss me, you know?” you called over the loud music of the club, ignoring how bodies bumped against you every other second, sending you stumbling further into Ellie, who you had flipped to face, her hands still gripping your waist. Your eyes blinked slowly at her, glossy lips twitching up, head dizzy with the vodka and cranberries you had. Ellie wasted no time after your request, pressing forward harshly to capture your lips.

Ellie cleared her throat, “Uh..” great, she had totally no idea what to order. “Honestly, I’ve never been here... I’m not sure what I’d like. What’d you recommend?”

Dina didn’t even hold back the scoff from the other side of the table, because, really.. that was Ellie’s line?

You seemed to find it endearing, though, meeting her eyes again as you suggested your favorite sandwich and drink, pointing toward it on the menu.

“Cool…cool.. I’ll try that,” Ellie nodded, leaning back into her chair again. The sandwich you recommended had tomatoes, and she hated tomatoes. But it was fine.

You nod one too many times before turning on your heel and speed walking inside.

Dina started immediately. “Why the hell did you just eye fuck our waitress?” she accuses, leaning in to squint her eyes at you. “Also, you are fucking ass at flirting. Staring at someone with those freakily green eyes just doesn’t work.”

Ellie frowned, “fuck off, Dina.”

She waited to speak until she was sure you were inside the cafe again. “That’s the girl I made out with at the club,” she muttered, flushing slightly.

Dina’s mouth dropped open, “You’re shitting me.”

Auburn hair shook slightly out of place as the other sighed. “Nope. It’s totally her.”

“Damn… maybe you’ve got some weird curse on you that, like.. bans you from having one night stands.”

Ellie only scoffed in response. It didn’t feel like a curse, maybe more like a blessing to see you again.

“Hey, you can go two for two with shitty lines for waitresses and put your number on the receipt.”

Ellie rolled her eyes like it was a bad idea, but she definitely would do it.

#rins reqs ❀.#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #ellie williams tlou

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ltbarnes · 1 year ago

Text

‘Tis the Damn Season

Stark U #6

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re too drunk, you’ve basically avoided Bucky and Steve for six months and the last person you’d want to meet at this party just happens to be yelling in your face. The panic attack is inevitable, really.

Pairing: college!Steve Rogers x reader, college!Bucky Barnes x reader, college!Sam Wilson x reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: so much angst, past SA, alcohol, talk about violence, Christmas celebrations, things finally start to happen, kissing :)

A/N: Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and to those who don’t, I hope you have a good few days anyways <3 This is the first I’ve posted since July which is awful of me so sorry

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You didn't see them all summer. The day after your last exam was over, you bolted back to your hometown and spent the entire summer selectively ignoring messages from Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sam asking what you were doing and how your summer was going and maybe you could all meet up and go somewhere and—

It's December now, and every goddamn day since June you have been trying to figure out if what Bucky said to you when you were sick was a fever-induced hallucination or if he really, actually, said that he wanted you to take his last name someday. It made you panic, because the entire spring term you tried to convince yourself that your feelings towards them were batshit crazy and any inkling to them feeling the same was a delusional reach, grasping for crumbs that in reality were just friendly gestures. And then he says that.

"She's just practicing her future last name, Stevie."

So, yeah...things have been weird. Three months have passed since classes started and none of you want to mention what happened right before summer break. Actually, with each day passing you feel more like maybe it was just a hallucination or a very vivid dream, because both Bucky and Steve act like it never even happened. Bucky even had his mouth latched onto some blonde sophomore at a dumb, stupid frat party on Halloween. You went home right after and cried for two hours. But it's not hard to conclude that even if there was some spark or connection or anything beyond friendship with either of them before summer, it has died out completely.

The subject will probably never be broached. You're too scared of confrontation and definitely too scared of revealing unreciprocated feelings for that to happen. The slightly tense atmosphere in the loft is entirely your fault—your lack of communication with anyone in the group during the summer has made them a little confused, you guess. You mostly spend time in your room, giving excuses of studying and talking with parents on the phone and 'I'm just tired, sorry'.

Spending too much time with Natasha scares you too, because she reads you so well and you don't want her to know how hurt and unhappily in love you are. She'll try to do something about it and then Steve and Bucky will catch on and then you will end up rejected and labeled as crazy, because who the fuck falls in love with two people?

That doesn't mean you've managed to avoid her. Living in the same apartment as her definitely makes that hard, but just the fact that she won't let you makes it impossible. Last week she even broke into your room when you had it locked, because apparently she knows how to pick a lock open in under ten seconds. She absolutely knows something is off, but so far she hasn't brought it up.

Natasha is the sole reason why you're now standing in the backyard of some rich kid's house just off campus, surrounded by smoke from cheap cigarettes and fairy lights hung up between the trees and one too many shots of vodka in your blood. It's December utterly and thoroughly—there's snow on the ground but people still haven't accepted the fact that wearing their short dresses and tank tops without jackets does not work anymore. Ice drops hangs from the tree where you stand, listening to Natasha talk with a drunken girl looking for her phone.

It's fun, sure. Not the worst party you've been to and not the best either. You talked to the girl you've been sitting next to in History class earlier for almost twenty minutes. Got free vodka. It's Friday and you don't have any exams to study for. None of that makes you forget that things aren't the same.

"Nat. Nat." You poke her shoulder repeatedly, obnoxiously probably, until she glances over her shoulder with a slight glare.

"What is it?"

"I'm gonna get 'nother drink. Inside," you tell her, pointing with your thumb towards a hedge even though it was meant to be the door. Natasha seems to understand anyway.

"Okay. Don't wander off too long. And come back here right after."

"Yes, ma'am." You give her a half-assed salute before turning around, swaying slightly in your step. It's the uneven and slippery surface of the snow-covered ground, you tell yourself.

There's a lot of people here, is what you note as you push yourself through the seemingly endless crowds of the living room. You kind of hate that they haven't played a single song you like and if Steve was here he would agree, because he doesn't listen to any music made after the internet was born. Bucky would then make fun of Steve and you would laugh and everything would be right in the world. Instead you're pressed to kitchen drawers of a dark kitchen, cheap vodka mixed with soda running down your throat.

The kitchen is crowded too, but either way it's a respite from whatever the hell's going on in the living room. Jumping up and down and calling it dancing (you were doing the same the hour before). You're too drunk to be miserable about everything happening in your life this entire term and much too drunk to feel the absolute atrocious taste of your drink.

In half an hour you will probably throw up and tomorrow will be spent nursing a horrible hangover, but those consequences seem insignificant right now. You just keep thinking about the image of Bucky shoving his tongue down someone's throat that wasn't yours. It was heartbreaking. That he's not here is a good thing, because you'd either witness the same thing again or actually bring it up to him, and that's much worse. God knows it's only a matter of time before Steve does the same thing.

Someone pushes into you, forcing the liquid from your cup to spill from the confines of the red plastic onto your dress. It's black, so it doesn't really matter, but the alcohol still seeps through the fabric until it reaches your skin.

"Shit, fuck—"

Your hand tries to somehow dry your dress by fanning the fabric, which obviously doesn't help very much, and the paper towels placed on the counter in front of you escape your drunken mind completely.

Fresh air and icy winter winds are the only options, so you push through and stumble into people on your way outside. It takes a lot longer than it should. You can't really see much considering the dizziness and darkness inside, but somehow, magically, you are eventually dragging your way towards Natasha who stands in the same place as before.

"Nat. Natty—I spilled. Look."

The black dress with the now wet patch is lifted towards her by your hands, highlighted for her to see. You sway as you tell her.

"Jesus, you can barely stand straight," Natasha answers with a stabling hand to your shoulder, shaking her head to herself instead of focusing on the very urgent fact that you spilled on yourself.

Natasha turns to the girl she's talking to, saying something you can't bother to decipher, before stepping aside with a guiding arm around you.

"We gotta get you home before you embarrass yourself for real," she mumbles underneath her breath.

"I heard that," you whisper, a loud hiccup following. Whoops.

She rolls her eyes, fishing her phone up from her pocket.

"Who—who you writing? To?" you ask, slightly aware that your sentences lack correct structure but not really caring. As long as the message comes across, right?

"I'm texting Steve. I can't drive and you sure as hell can't."

Even in your state, panic instantly sets in over the mention of his name even though you live in the same goddamn apartment.

"Nooo. No Steve."

Your hand grasps for her phone. Nat pulls it away from your reach much quicker than you can comprehend.

"Yes Steve. You're a mess and he's the only one with the patience to take care of this level of drunk. I don't care that you're avoiding them for some stupid goddamn reason," she tells you.

"Nat," you whine. "He can't see me. I spilled!"

She just glares at you. "I swear to god, Y/n...nobody cares that you spilled your drink. I can't even see it."

"I'm so drunk!"

"Yeah, I know. Just—just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you some water so you can sober up by the time your precious Steve comes for us."

Natasha is heading inside before you can process her words. Waiting in place for a few minutes turns into an eternity in your mind. She should know better than to leave you unattended and then expect you to stay—really, it's her own fault. You will accept no blame if Nat gets mad at you for going inside again. It's cold and you need to go to the bathroom. Also, you're mad at her. Telling Steve to come get you? That's just...embarrassing.

Once again you're shouldering your way past people on about the same level of intoxication as you. There's a bad remix of a Christmas song playing loudly. Makes you wanna punch whoever's phone is connected to the speaker. The bathroom is so, so far away. It's something the architect of this house should've thought of before he put it at the very end of this long hallway you're currently making your way through, but clearly he didn't have you in mind.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole," some girl seethes at you as your shoulder nudges against hers. A nudge is an exaggeration—you brushed against it at most. She's probably an aggressive drunk, that's all.

You don't answer, instead fumbling for the door handle to what you believe might be the bathroom. Some couple is making out in here, the girl with her ass planted on the edge of the bathtub and the guy nearly devouring her face. Doesn't look very pleasant, if you're honest.

"Out. I need to pee."

Your hands find their way to their shoulders, ushering the lovesick pair out of the room without much protest from either of them. They're still making out as they walk out.

Despite your less than sober state, you manage to remember to lock the door after they leave. Some of the mascara that previously inhabited your lashes has moved down to rest under your eyes. You rub it away, smudging it slightly, but it just makes you look a little more like one of those cool girls you always see on campus. It will do.

You kind of want to throw up, but decide against it. That hasn't happened since you were a freshman, and you'd like to keep it that way. Staring at yourself in the mirror occupies your time in the bathroom instead, swaying slightly with your hands placed on the cold sink. If Steve saw you now he would be so disappointed. At least you imagine he would be—that fatherly look on his face as he tells you how you need to be more mindful with your alcohol consumption. Did you even watch who poured your drink? Never go anywhere alone at a party. Especially not a frat one. You know better than this, Y/n.

Steve's imaginary voice is interrupted by someone banging on the door, shouting for you to hurry the fuck up. It's been over ten minutes, but to you it just feels like three, and Natasha has been looking for you ever since she returned to the garden with a glass of water in her hand and no one to give it to. It's not her banging on the door, unfortunately, but instead a dickhead guy who has no patience. Can't a girl spend some time alone in the bathroom doing nothing anymore?

The guy glares at you as you push the door open, stumbling out into the crowded hallway while paying him no mind. It's dark save for the red LED-lights plastered on the walls, making it feel like a seedy dive bar instead of a seedy house. You don't see much.

"Hey! Hey, you—the girl with the black dress!"

Someone pushes their way past the people talking and making out and leaning against the walls, shoving through them as he searches for your attention. Of course, you don't really think it's you he's after. Half of the people at this party are wearing black dresses.

A clammy hand finds purchase on your shoulder, halting you in your less than gracious steps and turning you around with ease. Head tilted back, gaze running upwards until they settle on the face of a quite attractive guy. He doesn't look pretty happy to see you. You're not very happy to see him either.

The blood drains from your face, stealing away all that alcohol-induced heat within a second as his curly hair and green eyes look down at you with that same contempt he had when Sam dragged him away from the kitchen almost a year ago. You had hoped you never had to see him again. It was a naive thing to wish for.

"Y/n, right?" he asks bitterly. You don't answer, but he takes your silence as a yes. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. His slightly crooked nose was perfectly straight the last time you saw him. His face is committed to your memory, burned in to taunt you on sleepless nights and everytime an unknown man walks a little too closely when you're out alone. "Your little boyfriend broke my fucking nose. You know that?"

Another rhetorical question. Definitely more threatening. Might be the tight grip he has on your arm too. Either way, his mere presence has apparently stripped away your ability to breathe normally. It feels like you've been running to the point of nausea, dark spots dancing before your eyes as he shakes you in attempt to get an answer.

"You ruined my fucking reputation. For what? I barely touched you. Such a sensitive fucking bitch, going around telling everyone that..." His voice trails off, ushering you into a quiet corner when he realizes people are staring. "Got nothing to say now, huh? Been so good at running your fucking mouth before, haven't you?"

"Let me go," you whisper, voice wavering. You don't sound assertive at all, instead weak and fearful. It's what you feel, as an upbeat, slightly bad cover rendition of "All I Want For Christmas" booms through the house. Girls shrieking in excitement over in the living room reaches your ears. You would have joined them if you weren't currently cornered by the guy who assaulted you in your own kitchen a year ago.

"No, we're going to fucking talk. What the fuck were you doing, going around saying shit like that about me to everyone?"

"I...I didn't..." Your lips part between words, breathing out shakily, trying to articulate sentences long enough to make sense. Why can't you speak? Why can't you even think?

"You didn't what?" he seethes. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that? Acts all innocent and hides behind her friends. My nose is fucking crooked forever because of that fuckhead you sent after me."

Is it the alcohol that renders you this goddamn useless? There's just tears springing to your eyes, unable to say anything in defense of yourself. Can't even walk away.

He pushes you against the wall, knocking the breath out of you. To other people it probably looks like you're hooking up. At least that's what you hope they think, because otherwise you want to wonder why no one is intervening.

"Joshua, please let me go," you tell him again, even more pathetic this time. You're crying now, curled in on yourself in attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Fuck, you're so—"

"She told you to let her go."

The assertive, familiar tone booms through the hallway. It doesn't really, can probably only be heard by the people around you, but it feels like it when Steve's tall figure pushes through with hasty steps towards where you and Joshua stand, followed by a glaring Bucky with his jaw clenched so fucking tightly. A sob of relief is drawn from your lips, muffled by the back of your hand.

Joshua steps back instantly. Kind of funny to think that he's so scared of those two, and sad to think that he only respects a 'no' when it comes from men.

"Nice nose job," Bucky speaks up, pointing at his own nose as he stares at Joshua's crooked one, courtesy of the damn good punch he managed to land with his left fist all those months ago.

"Fuck you," Joshua growls, taking a step forward in attempt to appear more threatening or something. He doesn't really succeed—both Bucky and Steve towers over him in both length and build, unrelenting in their stance. As if they're stone walls keeping out the enemy.

Steve rolls his his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. "Just get out of here. Don't go near her ever again, you hear me? Bucky's glad to fix your nose otherwise. Break it right back. Can't promise the result will be very good, though."

Bucky stands slightly behind Steve, raising an eyebrow in Joshua's direction that tells him there's not even a trace of a lie in the blonde giant's statement.

"You—fuck this." Joshua throws his hands in the air, aiming the most distasteful glare over his shoulder in your direction, before pushing past Steve and Bucky with a shove.

Your body instantly deflates, the tension melting off your limbs as you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Gentle, firm hands instantly reach your cheeks, your arms, searching for any trace Joshua might have left behind on your body.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, are you okay? Did he touch you? Sweetheart, look at me."

Bucky's voice draws you out of the anxious, panicked state you slipped into, fluttering your eyelids open to see his worried frown and an equally worried Steve looming behind him. Wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes greet them, pupils dilated from the alcohol.

"Y/n, are you hurt? How long have you two been talking?" Steve adds, looming over you in such a way that his large frame blocks out any of the colorful lights plastered on the walls.

They already know you're drunk—Natasha was the one to call them here to get you, after all. Maybe your silence and obvious intoxication makes it clear to them after a couple of seconds that an answer from you is a few minutes away, a few miles of distance from this foggy, packed house. Nothing more is said or requested from you. Instead your trembling form is led away and out into the biting cold by gentle hands belonging to your friends. Even your slight shock can't shield you from freezing your ass off as soon as you get out into the fresh air again, teeth beginning to chatter within the second step on tightly packed snow.

"What the—where the hell have you been? I swear to god, Y/n, I was gone for two minutes! I've been looking for you everywhere!" an angry Natasha yells, running perfectly towards the three of you down the slippery lawn to where Steve is currently helping you into the backseat of his car.

"Nat," Steve says, giving her a pleading look that silently tells her it's not the time for a scolding.

"What? I told her to stay put when I went to get her a glass of water and she just disappeared out of nowhere. Slippery motherfucker while drunk, I swear she'll be the death of me—"

"Nat," he repeats, sternly this time. In that tone only he masters, silencing even the most eager tongues with a single exhale. "She met Joshua. And she's not okay. So please, leave your yelling for tomorrow and get in the car."

Steve holds the passenger door open, gesturing for the seat beside Bucky. He's turning the key, letting the car warm up properly while he clutches the wheel tightly. Natasha's irritated frown turns into a concerned one, nodding silently before slipping inside. Steve closes the door shut behind her.

You lean your head against the frost-covered window, fogged up by your breath two inches away from it, and close your eyes. Steve leans over you, reaching for the belt and fastens it over your torso. You forgot. He never does.

It's no surprise, doesn't startle you despite your absentminded state, when his warm hand cups your cheek, turns your head to face him. Soft, blue gaze and ridiculously long lashes. It's nothing but contrasting against the clouds released from your mouths with each breath—warm, concerned...loving? Maybe.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, thumb rubbing over your cheek.

You nod. "Yes. I am now."

Bucky puts his foot on the gas, turns on the blinker, and pulls away from the curb, out onto the streets. It's nearly soundless. The usual rumble from wheels against road is cushioned by the snow.

"This was a mistake. Sorry, I can't—" Sam gags, moving his head out of the bathroom before returning his presence within a few seconds. "You're a real shitty guard, Nat. Why'd you let her drink this much?"

All four of your roommates are gathered in the bathroom, surrounding you as if you're a newly born lion cub in a zoo, while you puke your guts out into the toilet. Steve is kneeling on the floor beside you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, while Bucky sits a few feet away with a glass of water in hand, ready for whenever you need it.

"Fuck you. You weren't there—she was like a goddamn ghost, just slipping away everytime I blinked. Looked fucking everywhere for her. 'S not my fault," Nat answers, residing on the floor of the shower in lack of space.

"Not true," you murmur in answer, your voice echoing off the ceramic surrounding you.

You're pretty much done throwing up, it's just the exhaustion following that's keeping you slumped over on the bathroom tile. Your hand stretches out in Bucky's direction, reaching for the glass of water that's gulped down within a few seconds.

"Careful. Gonna get sick again if you do it this fast," Bucky says, unable to help himself from brushing away the stray drops of water running down your chin.

The gesture is nothing new from him. He did it when you were sick all those months ago too, and you haven't forgotten it at all. His thumb gently rubbing over your skin as if you're precious, something deserving of gentleness, is engraved into your mind. You're thankful for getting most of the alcohol out of your system, because you might not have remembered this moment in the morning if not. Fuck it if you forgot the way his pupils widen just slightly, as if he didn't mean to, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine," you whisper in answer, clearing your throat. "Got it all out."

"Good." Steve's hand moves up from your back to your head, stroking it for just a second before withdrawing his touch. "Let's get you to the couch."

"I don't wanna go to the couch. Wanna be in my bed." You're pouting. Maybe there is some trace of alcohol left in you.

"Steve and Buck will feel much less like creepy stalkers if they stare at you sleeping on the couch instead of hovering around your bedroom all night like a bunch of pervs," Natasha speaks up. A snort follows after, as if it was a joke and not a statement. Definitely tipsy too, despite unwilling to admit such a weakness.

Steve raises a reprimanding eyebrow Natasha's way, telling her to shut her mouth with just his gaze. She smirks in answer.

"Don't listen to her. A fucking liar," Bucky remarks, but there's still some form of amusement in his expression. He can't even deny the statement—he is going to watch over you. Doesn't really matter if it's in the living room or in your bedroom. "Now let's get you up. C'mon."

With a push from your arms against the cold tile, you're standing on two legs again. Steve is hovering his hand near your back, ready to support if the vodka decides to topple you over. But you're fine—just tired now.

For ten minutes it feels things are back to normal again. On the living room couch, nestled in between them, your head leaning on Steve's shoulder as a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie plays on the tv. Sam and Natasha are in their rooms sleeping, and for a few moments you forget why you kept your distance. Everything would have been good if this is how the night would end. If Steve didn't have to address the past six months.

"I've missed this. With us," Steve whispers as he strokes your shoulder absentmindedly, like it's second nature to him to have his hands on your skin. "You've been so distant lately. For months, Y/n."

The room instantly becomes tense enough to make you nauseous. A clearing of your throat, an attempt to sit up out of Steve's hold and away from this conversation that you'd much rather avoid is futile—it's instantly stopped by Bucky's hand on your chest that pushes you right back.

"No," he says sternly. "You're gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and tell us why you've barely let us see you since fall term started. 'Cause it's sure as fuck not something I take lightly. Why have you avoided us?"

You look away, shaking your head to yourself as you try to talk yourself down. You will not break. You will not confess a single thing. You are going to act like everything is fine and you are not currently freaking out being sandwiched between the only two men you would gladly be sandwiched between under different circumstances than this.

"What are you even talking about?" you answer meekly. It's clear as soon as the words come out of your mouth that no one is falling for your innocent act, not even sweet, naive Steve. Then again, you're doing a particularly bad job. "Both of you think I've been distant?"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n. If we've done something wrong, just say so." Bucky bites his cheek, glancing down for just a second, but it's enough to let his vulnerability slip. He's hurt.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over your body, an unusual feeling. During all these months of avoiding any interaction with Bucky and Steve besides the necessary ones, you didn't think that they'd actually mind your absence that much. They might not be hopelessly in love with you like you are with them, but they're still your friends. Friends miss each other.

"Or if it's something personal, you can tell us, you know? Is it anxiety, or are you feeling generally low, or...?" Steve chips in, trying to drown out Bucky's accusatory tone.

"No, no...I'm not depressed, Steve. And none of you have done anything wrong, I promise," you say hastily, shutting down their concerns as quickly as possible while trying to buy yourself time to come up with an excuse. "I just...needed some alone time."

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Sassy man. "Bullshit again. You've spent a bunch of time with Natasha. Sam, too. It's us you're avoiding." He points to himself and Steve with his hand. "It's been almost six months, Y/n. What the hell's your problem?" He pushes himself off the couch, standing up and blocking your view of the tv. It's as if his frustration is all contained while sitting down.

"Bucky," Steve scolds, glaring up at his friend. He's not appreciating the tone at all, that's for sure.

"There's no problem, Bucky," you tell him, shaking your head. Trying to dismiss this entire conversation before you reveal too much.

"No! Y/n, I'm going fucking crazy! This is the first time you've even let me touch you in half a year!" Bucky yells, a pleading tone in his voice that breaks your heart just a little. Because it's true. You have barely even hugged since June. You've barely talked for more than five minutes at a time.

"Don't yell at her, for god's sake, Bucky," Steve adds, his hands on your shoulders and ready to get up from the couch any second.

"What the hell's going on with you, huh?!" Bucky continues, ignoring Steve's statement. His eyes are solely focused on you, void of the usual softness. There's just anger. "Cause if you can't stand us, then tough fucking luck. I can have your fucking things moved out by tomorrow for all I care. Can move right into Walker's dorm. Bet he'd accept you with open fucking arms if you get to your knees and—“

The drop of your heart down to your stomach can almost be heard, an echoing, hollow sound. You're sure of it. Bucky shuts his mouth, as if he realizes what exactly was about to come out of it. What is not even a second of silence feels like a whole minute, before Steve shoots up from his seat beside you and grabs Bucky by the collar, rattling the whole room with the force in which he nearly tackles Bucky against the wall with. The tangy taste of iron starts to fill your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. There's tears lingering in your eyes but you can't hold them back, not anymore.

"You don't fucking talk to her like that, you bast—"

"I love you! It’s ‘cause I fucking love you guys!” you yell, a pathetic sob marring the words. “So I’m fucking sorry that I’ve avoided you two but I’m trying to get over these goddamn—these feelings, but I can’t, okay! I can’t!”

The bitter delivery is punctuated by the sleeve of your sweater wiping away the tears furiously, cutting Steve off and drawing both of their wild eyes towards your figure now standing up, just a minute away from a complete breakdown. You don't even process the fact that Steve cursed. It would've been teased about endlessly in any other situation.

"I will go. I'll leave if that's what you want," you seethe with a voice so unsteady that it's almost unbearable to listen to. "But I don’t hate any of you. I don’t, and I get why you’re mad. But fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you for saying that.”

More tears fall. It's futile to wipe them away when they'll be replaced the second after. You want to say more, hit Bucky where it hurts, but you cannot get the goddamn words to form on your lips. Opening your mouth and closing it again, shaking your head, comes before hastily walking towards your room and locking yourself inside without giving them a chance to answer.

As soon as the door is slammed shut, your hand comes up to your mouth to muffle the sobs. Sinking down to the floor as if you’re in a movie, forehead resting against your knees. The rate of your heartbeats could be considered dangerously high, but you just blurted out a whole love confession for two of your roommates in the midst of a fight. How the hell could everything turn to shit so quickly? Half an hour ago all of you were joking around in the bathroom, and now you're not sure you have the courage to face any of them again.

It's a rash, impulsive decision fueled by anger and betrayal and shame, but you rush over to your closet and pull out an overnight bag that's soon filled to the brim with enough things to last you a few days. You're crying the entire time.

When you pass the living room again, Bucky isn't there anymore. But Steve is. Barely a glance his way is spared, with hasty steps heading towards the hallway. You remind yourself of a furious toddler when you angrily put on your jacket, stick your feet into your winter boots. The bag is slung over your shoulder, hand resting on the door handle.

"Don't go. Y/n, please don't leave."

Steve stands at the other side of the hallway, a broken down expression on his pretty face.

"Bucky went out of line, but he didn't mean it, I swear. He's just too prideful to admit it," he continues. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. "Please, honey. It’s Christmas Eve. It won’t be the same if you’re not here tomorrow.”

"I just need some space," you whisper, brushing away a stray tear with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re so embarrassed and hurt that you can barely look him in the eye. "I can't be in the same apartment as him right now."

Steve sighs, looking about ready to just throw you over his shoulder to get you to stay. But he won't do that. That's not Steve. So instead he glances down to the floor, shaking his head to himself.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly. “The thing about—you said you loved us. Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds before you nod tentatively, sniffling and keeping your gaze on a spot past Steve. He doesn’t say anything.

Steve gathers courage enough to walk up to where you stand by the door, grabbing your cheeks with his hands, thumb running over the tear-stained skin gently. For a few moments, he just looks at you. Loud thoughts running amok in that perfect head of his.

“Nothing I say right now will do my feelings any justice, so I’m gonna save any big speeches for tomorrow. But just…stay. It’s 2 am, it’s freezing out and you’re still drunk. I don’t want you out there on the streets alone. I need you to stay, even if it’s only for your own safety. Don’t have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to.”

His words makes you nod automatically. All it took was his hands on your skin and the flicker of hope his words ignite in your chest, and you conceded within a second. No hesitation left in that exhausted body of yours. He‘s not saying outright that your feelings are requited, but it doesn’t feel like a rejection either. He doesn’t seem disgusted by your confession, by the knowledge that you’re in love with both him and his best friend.

“Good girl. Let’s just—let’s get you to bed, okay?”Steve tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. With your confirmation in form of another silent nod, he nestles the bag out of your grip and takes off the jacket from your torso.

The bed feels so soft and warm and comforting when you lie down. Steve tucks you in. It’s achingly sweet and you don’t really deserve it after avoiding him and Bucky like that for so long, but he looks out for you nonetheless.

“Steve,” you whisper, drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. For being so distant.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were scared,” Steve answers. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Get some sleep. You’ve had a tough night, Y/n.”

The softest of smiles grazes your lips, puppy eyes gazing up at Steve. Your wonderful, caring, perfect Steve.

“Are you alright? It must’ve been hard meeting Joshua again. And what Bucky said, it…it was far from okay.”

“I will be,” you whisper.

He nods, observes your face for a few seconds. Leans down to press a kiss to your forehead—what kind of college guy even does that? And then he leaves the room, turning the light off behind him.

You’re woken up by a red headed, crazy woman sitting on top of you over the sheets, shaking your shoulders.

“Wake up, fuckhead. You’re gonna open the presents I got you,” Natasha urges, grinning down at you as you blink your eyes open, groaning.

“Fuckhead?” you ask, a tired chuckle from your lips as Natasha climbs off the bed.

“Yes. Don’t like it, huh?” she teases. “C’mon. The guys are already waiting.”

With slow steps and a loud yawn, the slightest trace of a hangover plaguing your body, you drag yourself out into the living room. Around the ugly, little tree that Sam insisted on cutting down from the campus gardens last week (he almost got arrested by the security guards) the three boys sit. Your gaze falls to the floor, scratching the skin right above your lip nervously, once Bucky looks up at you. Can’t really read his expression, but you figure you’ll lay the fight aside for the day. It’s Christmas, after all.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve says, urging you to sit down next to him right there on the carpet. You offer a soft smile, and an even softer ‘Merry Christmas’ back. You’re still unsure about yesterday. Despite there being no rejection from either of them, the uncertainty is kind of killing you. A pit of anxiety rests in your stomach, an uneasy feeling corrupting every cell as you sit down on the floor next to Steve.

Not even ten minutes later, the living room is drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. Natasha went overboard with the gift shopping this year, it seems like, but her absent father is also some kind of Russian oligarch or something so she tends to use up as much of his money as she can. You’re not complaining.

The special edition of The Hobbit, signed by the director of the movie, that you managed to get on eBay and cost you a fucking fortune is received with a whispered ‘thank you’ from Bucky. He holds it in his hands tightly, staring down at the book without a word, and you don’t know if he’s happy for it. Maybe he’s not happy with anything touched by you at this moment. He hasn’t gotten you a gift, it seems like, or maybe he threw it in the trash and burned it yesterday.

Steve got you three books that he’d heard you say you wanted months ago, and a dainty silver necklace with a bee pendant hanging from it. “You know, uh, I usually call you ‘honey’ and I thought it was a little funny, maybe. But I can exchange it if you don’t like it. It’s no problem,” he had said, even though there were tears of gratitude in your eyes. Your arms were thrown around him a second later, hugging him tightly as you thanked him profusely for the most thoughtful gift.

Now you’re leaning your back against the couch, still on the floor, watching as Sam and Natasha are tinkering with his new Nintendo Switch that he got from her (overboard with the gifts, as previously mentioned). He’s so happy it almost makes you zoned out as you watch his childlike excitement. It’s nice to see the two of them so calm and sweet with each other too. Usually bickering and getting on each other’s nerves all the time otherwise.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

Your head tilts back, looking up at Bucky standing nervously in front of you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a deep hesitation within you, a pride that wants to say no and remain in your angry state forever without confrontation. But it’s Bucky. You hate this animosity between the two of you, the tension. Despite being pissed off and hurt and afraid that he doesn’t want you, you can’t say no, so you nod and push yourself up to a stand.

Bucky closes the door to his room behind him gently, clearing his throat and looking at anything but you. A sigh comes out of his mouth, shaking his head, before he parts his lips to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. What I said was disgusting and unforgivable and so fucking out of line. You didn’t deserve that at all. So out of proportion to what I was mad at you for,” Bucky says, running the palm of his calloused hand over his face.

“It was,” you answer honestly. There’s no use in denying that what Bucky said was stupidly hurtful. He nods, looking away from your gaze.

“It made me angry thinking that you ignored me, because at first I didn’t know what I had done, you know? And then I thought for a few months that me and Steve had been too overbearing and that you tried to keep your distance because you thought we were annoying or something. But that’s not the case. I should’ve known better by now than to think that you would do anything to purposely hurt us.”

You gulp, nodding, looking down to the floor. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “I didn’t know that you guys thought I had something against you until last night. Obviously, you…you know now that’s not the case,” you tell him, embracing yourself with your arms. “But last night, Bucky, I…you hurt me. I know you were angry, but saying those kind of things isn’t okay.”

“I know that. God, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It was fucking childish of me, retorting to saying that Jo—“ Bucky shakes his head, hands coming up to tug at the roots of his hair. “And it felt stupid giving you that present in front of everyone, so now you think I didn’t get you anything, too, and—“

“You got me a present?”

“Yes. Of course I did, Y/n. But I saw how much Natasha had bought and that necklace Steve gave you and my gift felt stupid in comparison to that. Just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” he says, a little awkwardly. A little boy giving his mother a drawing he made in kindergarten, he reminds you of.

“Bucky…that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you have gotten me. I’ll like it no matter what if it’s from you.”

He shifts in his place, contemplating something, before picking up a sweater on his bed, revealing a wrapped present hidden underneath. Bucky took the gift from the pile without anyone noticing before, throwing it into his room so no one would see.

With a tentative hand, he reaches it out to you. Doesn’t watch as you unwrap it, instead biting on his thumbnail. You reprimand him for it, and the hand returns to his side.

“Is it a book?” You run your fingers over the cover, a hardcover with nothing on it. Blank.

“It’s a photo album. Shit, it’s stupid. I don’t know,” Bucky answers, looking about ready to snatch it back, but you open the first page up before he has a chance to.

A picture of you, Natasha, Sam and Steve on the first page. It was taken last year in November. You’re all running after one of Sam’s model planes, fall leaves singling down from the sky. It’s a beautiful picture.

“4 grown idiots running after a kid’s toy - November 12th, 2022”

“It’s just pics I’ve taken with my phone, so it’s nothing artsy or anything, but…uhm.” Bucky runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

You flip the page. You’re looking out through the kitchen window, the sun shining through and casting shadows over the room and your figure curled up on the chair.

“Angel in the sun - March 25th, 2023”

A soft chuckle is drawn from your lips, resisting the urge to run your finger over the photo, but you don’t want to smudge the blank paper. On the same page there’s another picture of you with your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, nearly wrestling her to the ground with the force of your hug. You look so happy.

Bucky looks nervous as you glance up from the photo album at him. “Know it’s not much, but…yeah.”

A loud huff of hair escapes Bucky as you throw your arms around him. It takes a second or two for him to hug you back, but he soon has his chin resting on top of your head, arms around your waist.

“I love it,” you whisper, holding onto him tightly enough to constrict his breathing.

“You do? I can take it back if you don’t like it.”

Your grip around him releases, arms coming down to your sides so you can take a step back and look him in the eyes. “This is everything, Bucky,” you say softly, feeling a lump in your throat that can turn into tears any second. “The fact that you took the time to make this for me is just…it’s the most thoughtful thing ever. And these pictures are so beautiful, Bucky, and just the thought of you sitting down and glueing them onto the page and writing captions and—“

His lips against yours. Oh god. Oh my god, Bucky has his lips pressed against yours. Gentle hands hold your jaw, his head leaning down to compensate for the height difference, and Bucky Barnes is kissing you with urgency and desperation.

The shock is enough to make you unable to return the kiss. He seems to take your surprise as rejection despite the fact that you literally yelled ‘I love you’ in his face last night. Bucky steps away and takes his hands off your skin, running his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, don’t know what the hell came over me, I—“

On your tiptoes, fingers grabbing his sweatshirt to pull him closer, and you nearly smash your lips against his to shut up any of that doubt he carries. It’s not a graceful or very romantic kiss, but by the sound akin to a very mild growl that comes from Bucky and his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer, you guess he likes it anyway.

It doesn’t last more than 20 seconds. A harsh knock on the door to Bucky’s room interrupts it, forcing you part from his lips and get down from your tiptoes again.

“What the hell are you doing in there? C’mon! I’ve made goddamn Christmas brunch!” Sam yells, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips as your forehead meets Bucky’s chest.

With a soft smile, nothing said, you back away from Bucky. Slipping out of his room and leaving him there all flustered and semi-hard from a 20 second make-out session. The first ever between you, though. He thinks it’s pretty understandable.

As Bucky follows you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table by Steve, he leans towards his best friend and whispers into his ear low enough to make anyone else unable to hear.

“I kissed her, Stevie,” Bucky says with a shit eating grin on his face. “I finally fucking kissed her.”

The blond man turns his head enough to look over at Bucky, the red flush of his cheeks and ears enough to tell anyone what’s been said.

“Are you serious?” Steve asks.

“I kissed her and she kissed me back, I swear. I gave her that photo album I’ve worked on for weeks. She said she loved it, Steve.”

“I guess it’s my turn then, isn’t it?” Steve answers, a shy smile on his lips as the two of them watch you sit down opposite of them at the table, glancing through the window out at the heavy snowfall. Natasha puts a newly toasted bagel on your plate.

“Go get our girl, Stevie.”

#stark u #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes angst #sam wilson x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 8 months ago

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Can I request RoR family with a teen reader who's extremely scared of injections due to being experimented on a child? Like having full blown panic attacks and she accidentally ended up scratching one of them really hard when they tried to force her to take her vaccines as she didn't take them as a child

-This wasn’t real, it wasn’t happening! It couldn’t be happening! Your ears were just playing tricks on you! Yeah-that’s it, it’s one of those auditory hallucinations you’ve heard of!

-Nikola, who had been the one to tell you that it was time for everyone’s yearly flu shot vaccine, to prevent anyone from getting sick, since there were so many in the house.

-You were fairly new in the family and the house, having been rescued and adopted by them only about 6 months ago, and those 6 months have been absolute heaven compared to the hell you had been trapped in prior.

-Beelzebub, who was helping administer the vaccines to everyone, looked over, after he finished with Hercules, who bent the normal needle and needed a thicker needle so it would get in, and saw the fear on your face.

-Your hands were gripping at your arms as you started seeing visions, flashbacks from when you were trapped, when they were grabbing your arms, pushing needle after needle into your arm filled with who knows what, ignoring your screams or beating you if you were bothering them.

-Jack, who was going right after you, could see your blinding fear, this wasn’t like what he would see when he could kill others, this was something… terrible.

-You felt like you couldn’t breathe, your throat felt tight, almost like it was stuck, seeing the syringes on the table, waiting for you and the others behind you, your eyes locked on them, unwavering as you struggled to breathe.

-Buddha was quick to put a hand over your eyes, pulling you back into his chest, to ground you, but this had the opposite effect as you immediately flinched and freaked out, crying out, trying to get free.

-They weren’t expecting this reaction, but they also remembered that you had been severely abused, as Buddha was panicking, not knowing if he should let you go or not as you were clawing at his hands, thinking he was holding you hostage.

-He let you go after Thrud told him to release you and you ran, rushing away from the area, looking for a place to hide, as they all realized that you had been retraumatized.

-It was two hours later when Nikola found you, after all the other vaccines had been given, finding you in Raiden’s room, hiding under his kotatsu.

-He was very patient and gentle with you, holding your hand softly, speaking gently, telling you that he didn’t mean to scare you, and unlike those who had abused you, he told you what the shot was for, and what was in the needle.

-That still didn’t mean you got the shot however, as you firmly refused to get poked again, not wanting to be in pain again.

-Your family was supportive, letting you know that was okay, and Beelzebub was the one who surprised you next, showing you that he was able to get the flu vaccine into a pill to take instead, just for you.

-It took you a few days to come around to the idea of taking it, but they never pushed you or rushed you, letting you do it on your own terms, which felt so nice to you, as they let you make the decision.

-Buddha was extra cuddly with you, holding you close as you watched 101 Dalmatians with him and Zerofuku, as his way of apologizing to you for scaring you.

-It was so nice to have a family like this one, to have so many people that cared about you. They made you feel so safe, even when it was flu season.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror beelzebub #ror nikola tesla #ror buddha #ror zerofuku

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justcallmecj · 8 months ago

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Humans Are Confusing

Alright. First time posting an actual anything on Tumblr, so let's see how this goes. Ran into a post on here recently and haven't been able to get it out of my mind since, so I kinda wanna ramble.

I like to think that in the Obey Me universe, humans and demons are just Built Different when compared to each other. I also like to think that demons don't truly know a lot about humans. They think they do, or that humans are easy to predict/understand. But they are wrong and having Solomon and Mc around just proves it to them.

Again. Humans and demons are built different. I like to think about the possibility of the human body/mind being able to do things a demons body/mind could never and that absolutely snaps the brothers' minds. So I have thought of a few things I could make funny scenarios out of.

Cracking Bones:

Humans crack all sorts of bones and joints all the time. I know I sure do, mainly my back, fingers and neck. Well, so do Solomon and Mc. They both do it all the time, especially Solomon, and neither thought anything of it when they first started staying in the Devildom. Neither knew that demons can't crack their bones.

The first time Mc cracked their back when stretching, every brothers head whipped towards them. Upon seeing that that sound came from Mc, horror settled in. And even more shock occurred when Solomon, who was nearby, said "Nice. Sounded like that felt good." and Mc, who they all expected to suddenly fall to the floor or something, simply straightened themself and said "Yep. Been needing to do that for a while now." and walked out of the room completely fine. No one knew what the hell just happened.

Demons can't do that. That sounded like a bone fucking breaking so how in the Devildom is Mc okay?!?!

Still in a shock, Mc came back in and noticed the brothers' state. They asked Solomon what was up and he had no clue. So they asked. Only Lucifer was able to shake himself our of his stupor enough to ask the question.

And this left Mc and Solomon both very confused. "Can you guys not do that?" and all the brothers frantically shook there heads. With a chuckle, Solomon explained that humans could simply move their bones and joints in a way that resulted in a cracking sound. It was something that actually resulted in relief, in pressure being taken off those points.

Then he promptly stood up and swung his torso, multiple cracking sounds filling the room from his back and then he bent his fingers one by one, each motion resulting in another crack. Then he walked up to Mc and they both left the room, completely fine. Asmo almost passed out that day.

And now all the demons and angels have a short panic whenever Mc or Solomon crack something until they remember that it's apparently normal for them.

The need for socialization:

Demons can and have gone centuries alone. Whether it was self-induced or a punishment, they will be fine in the long run. Hell, even some of the brothers can go a couple months without socializing (Levi and Belphie) and have no problems. Isolation is no life threatening thing for them. But it is for humans.

The brothers never knew what could happen to a human left isolated for too long until Mc and Solomon started talking about is to each other. It was a long conversation about the effects and risks of it.

Humans can develop physical and mental disease and illness from isolation. Heart problems, depression, mental decline, hallucinations, extreme anxiety, increased blood pressure, even insanity.

Why? Could humans not just...be okay? Why would they get all these problems if they isolated for so long? That doesn't happen to demons, or even angels. So, they started asking questions, all of which made Mc and Solomon realize how these topics, which are sort of common knowledge among humans, are very much unknown to the people of the other realms

And so they explained. Explained how humans were built to be social, to depend on each other physically and mentally. While they are capable of surviving alone for a while, or even a whole lifetime, they will still develop problems. Isolation can literally alter the brain chemistry of a human. They brought up the fact that Mc doesn't like to be alone for too long, getting lonely and too far into their own head when they get ignored. The fact that Solomon, who has gone dangerously long without contact, finds the subtle ways to latch himself onto people or goes somewhere with lot of people and lets himself be with them, to feed off their energy and be human again.

Let's just say that, after this conversation, everyone made an effort to no longer ignore Mc or Solomon for too long.

(I may find more of these ideas so stay tuned?)

#justcallmecj writes #justcallmecj headcanons #obey me #“Humans are weird” -the demons #The human exchange students confusing the crap out of the demons #solomon obey me #mc obey me #Human Things #first post #I'll figure out how to Tumblr better at some point #obey me headcanons

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callsign-songbird · 3 months ago

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Trauma Bond Ghoap X Reader PT 3

BACK FROM THE DEAD!! If anyone is still here for this, I'm sorry it took so long to get out. But, the story has continued, and probably won't get a part 4. If it does, it won't be until after Christmas. The final word count is 3,998 words, so close to 4k! Hope this is more acceptable for those of you who wanted a better less "lazy" ending. ;w; (Insinuations of smut, but nothing too specific)

“Hey, bird. That radiator giving you any more trouble?” The chime of a bell rang out from above the door of the small coffee shop you had taken to tending to. In all honesty, it was John’s. Apparently being a landlord just wasn’t keeping him busy enough, and the only hobbies he had actually been able to stick to were working out and whittling out in the woods. You had tried making a joke once, calling him a “bushwacker” for the way he seemed to like to rough it. But you missed the way his eyes crinkled at the edges just a bit too much, a bit of brightness behind them that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“Doll? You there? Has he been working you too hard?” Kyle’s gentle voice and concerned expression brought you back to the present, snapping you back to reality as your eyes focused in on his beautiful face. You weren’t supposed to feel things for clients, especially repeat customers, but Kyle… Well, things could happen behind closed doors, and you certainly wouldn’t complain. “Sorry, I just, uh… Haven’t been sleeping the best lately.” You admitted with a sigh as you turned to make his regular, shaking your head softly. The nights had been becoming colder, and with that came the chill of paranoia down your spine. It should have been a familiar feeling at this point, especially since this was coming up on your third month away from them. Your feet were under you without them, you had to remind yourself all the time. You had a good place to live, a stable job, and even a couple of friends here in town… Well… You had Kyle and John, really. But they were your friends, right? Your landlord slash boss and favorite regular?

…

You really needed to get out more…

The coffee you slid across the bartop was nearly the same burnt caramel color as Kyle’s skin, and sometimes you swear you can smell the sweet scent mixed in with his natural musk after a long day of being your small towns only repair man. You lean against the counter, elbows propped up on the polished veneer while your chin rests on your palms. “Aww, now that’s a shame, love. Been watching too many of those scary movies? You don’t have to watch them just because it’s that season, doll.” He picks up the large ceramic mug with one hand, though, it may as well have been a teacup compared to his giant mitts. He takes a sip of the still steaming drink, taking an exaggerated sip and getting a dollop of whipped cream on the tip of his nose simply to amuse you. His smile is blinding when your own nose scrunches up in turn, a soft giggle pouring past your lips as you lean over, taking one of the diner’s cloth napkins and wiping the cream from his nose. Maybe you hallucinate it or it’s just been way too long since you got any physical affection, but you almost swear that he leans into the touch, his eyes lidding just on the sweet side of sinful as a hum leaves his lips. “It’s not that, I just… I don’t know… Maybe I just need to get out more, get some friends, you know?” Kyle’s eyes narrow just slightly at that, but he hides it by looking down into his cup, letting out a noise of interest as he lifts the cup to his lips once more, taking a normal smooth sip. “Well, y’ got me an the captain, right? And I heard we’re gettin’ a couple of new guys in town.” The prospect of new people piques your interest, but you try to hide it as you stand and make your way over to do a wipedown of the espresso machine, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “Is that so?”

Kyle nods, reaching up to fiddle with the brim of his baseball cap while his eyes sweep the diner as if looking for anyone who might be able to overhear what he's about to say, as if it’s some big secret. That alone intrigues you. He leans a bit closer, trying to look casual as he braced his forearms on the counter, and you have to focus on the machine you’re wiping down to keep from staring at the way his jacket has to stretch to accommodate the beautifully sculpted muscles lying just below that you had been blessed enough to see before the fall chill had set in.

“Yeah, a coupla’ fellas who-” You jolt and turn around as Kyle is cut off, John’s hand on his shoulder in a friendly gesture as he takes the barstool beside him, giving you a mirthful smile and a polite nod of greeting. You can only blink at him with wide eyes for a moment, wondering how he had gotten there without either you or Kyle noticing. Maybe, if he hadn’t been so reassuring, you might have noticed the flash of hesitation in Kyle’s eyes as he took another swig of his drink, effectively shutting himself up. “Hello, lovely. How has it been today? Slow? Sorry to leave you to mann it alone today, someone had a bloody busted pipe, so I had to go play landlord for a bit. But I'm sure it wasn’t too much, that right, lovie?” His eyes are always so warm, and his smile puts butterflies in the pit of your stomach. You’v ehad a lot of butterflies these past couple of months, especially since both men refuse to call you by your real name, insisting on a barrage of pet names instead that practically make you melt inside. Near every day has turned into a battle to keep your face from warming around them, and you can almost swear they make a game out of it some days. “Yeah, it was fine. Gibbs was pretty upset not to get his eggs since the cook was out, but he’ll live and told me to whack you upside the head for him.” You say with a bit of humor to your voice, sliding a black coffee across the counter to John which he takes with a grateful wink and immediately lifts to his lips. Kyle shifts a bit in his seat before getting up with a soft groan and stretching his hands above his head, his spine letting out a couple of cracks before he rolled his shoulders, settling back into his posture, hands finding their way into his pockets as he turned towards the door.

“Well, lunch break is almost up. Got an appointment in twenty and I wanna grab a sandwich beforehand. Don’t miss me too much, dove. Be back tomorrow.”

You sent Kyle off with a bright smile and a small wave, only wondering momentarily what he was going to say before being interrupted by Price once more, sipping away at his small coffee with an almost worried smile on his face, looking too tight to be on the face of the man you had come to know. “That Kyle, he’s a good lad, loyal to a fault. Well, I should probably head out too before my shoulder starts acting up. Some days, I wish the bastard had shot me anywhere else that wouldn’t get me booted from the service. But, oh, listen to me prattle on. Young bird like you doesn’t have time for the whinging of an old man like me.” And with that, he was out the door before you could even bid him farewell. It was almost… Odd. why was everyone acting so weird today? Shaking there was nothing to do except get back to your job and daydream about the two. Of course, opening your heart was completely off of the table at this point. You had been hurt too much for that, and it was way too soon. But a good lay certainly wouldn’t do you any harm. Especially since you had two more gorgeous ex-military men seeing you on what was basically a daily basis. You spent the rest of your shift daydreaming about sweet words murmured in your ear, thich corded forearms barred across your throat, hips snapping up into yours and forcing your back into a delicious arch while your lips- “Hey, you about ready to clock out?” Gaz’z voice startled you from your daydream, nearly making you drop the mug you were putting away at the end of your shift. THere he was, leaning against the door frame of the open diner door. You must have been deep in thought, because you didn’t even hear the bell ring. “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just gotta hang up the apron and clock out.” You laughed out, pulling at the ties behind your back and sliding the apron off over your head. Lately, Gaz had taken to walking you back to your apartment. Something about not letting a lady walk alone in the dark even if you only lived a couple of blocks away. You had tried to invite him in multiple times, but he always gave you that same boyish smirk and told you that he might some other time. But this time was different. When you made your way up the steps of the building, Gaz’s hand stopped you, resting on your shoulder and bringing your attention back to is gorgeous face. He looked worried. “Hey, doll… Y’know… If any dogs ever come ‘round yappin… Just give me a call, k’? I’ll be over quicker than you can say ‘fuck off’, got it?” Your brows furrow in confusion, but you nod along nonethe less, which is apparently enough for the sweet guy, because he walks off without another word, leaving you to head back to your apartment and curl up into your old T-shirt and shorts on the couch with a movie. A knock at the door stops you right before you can get really settled in, pulling a soft groan from your lips. Was John doing his rounds to check the smoke alarms? This late? It couldn’t be. Maybe it was Gaz finally taking you up on your offer? These thoughts ran through your head like a lazy river, pulling a small smile to your lips as you open the door, looking up and expecting to see one of the two ment that you had come to adore over the past few months of freedom. But your face fell immediately, taking step back from the door as the entire room seemed to shrink in on you, eyes widening and lungs tightening in your chest.

It couldn’t be…

“... Simon?...” Your voice trembles to see the man you had once loved and devoted your entire life to standing awkwardly in the doorway, but something was off about him, different. Maybe it was the way he carried himself with that thinly veiled confidence of a skilled predator, maybe it was the way that his eyes weren’t as hollow as they had been before you left, maybe it was the way his entire face lit up at the sight of you in your grungy pajamas and mussed up bedhead; practically glowing beneath the familiar skull mask and striped balaclava you hadn’t seen in so long.

…

Or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t seen him like that in years…

When you left, Simon had practically been a shell of the man you had loved. He was unmotivated, never left the house unless it was to run or he was drug out by Johnny, he never made those stupid jokes you had loved so much, and he treated being alive as if it were a chore. He would tell you every time you could spare a moment just the two of you that being with you was the only time he felt happy anymore. But still he stayed with Johnny. And that still hurt. Speaking of… Where was Johnny? The man who so normally clung to Ghost’s heels like an eager mutt was nowhere to be found, sparking just the smallest bit of hope in your chest that maybe, just maybe, he had chosen you. Better late than never, right?

Or was that just wishful thinking? “We need to talk.” He said, that same blunt nature that you hated to admit you had missed pouring from behind his lips. As if he needed to tell you that. You stand there for a long minute, debating whether or not to let one of the men that had hurt you so much into your apartment, back into your life. But you were still weak to SImon, and he knew it. With a low sigh, you shake your head and allow the huge man into your apartment, ducking his head so as not to knock it against the doorframe. Jesus, you always forget just how BIG he is… He makes himself at home on your couch without wasting any time, looking as cool and collected as ever, like a king on his throne. But you know better, you know Simon. His hand is twitching towards his hip, his eyes are sweeping the room to check for all escape routes, his boot isn’t tapping against the plush rug you have laid out over the floor. He’s nervous. You stand before him, arms crossed over your midsection as you wait for him to start talking, explaining why he’s here. “We got help. Mentally. Me an’ Johnny…” He starts, and you’re almost ready to kick him out when he speaks of the other man as if he were still in the picture. Of course. How could you have been so damn foolish? But Simon raises his hands in a show of peace, his eyes pleading for you to hear him out before flipping your lid, even though it was very well deserved. But damn if you weren’t weak for those pathetic brown eyes of his when he was pleading with you. “I’m listening.” Your curt words may as well have been knives from the way Simon flinched slightly. That wasn’t like you, not his sweet Angel. He had really fucked up. “So… It turns out that I was incredibly depressed… clinically… Had to do with some fucking implant I had gotten back in the SAS to regulate emotions, it was supposed to be a couple year test that would get removed once the blokes in jackets had their damn info… I had it in for seven years…Seven years, lovie. Got a call about a month after you headed off from one of my old buddies. Some bloke apparently fucked up my discharge papers and that little detail had been overlooked. So, I headed back to base and got ir removed… And, oh, lovie… It’s been so much better…” His voice actually cracks at that last part. It didn’t make any sense to you though. Military emotional regulators? Trying to make super soldiers? And his had expired? It was hard for you to believe. But you couldn’t deny that seeing Simon like this again, looking more like himself than he had in years? It was doing things to you that you hated and tried to push down. “And Johnny?” You asked, keeping the same cold tone to your voice, trying not to give him even an inch to work with. He wouldn’t dig his claws into you again, not this time. You could see a deep look of regret and remorse in those deep mahogany irises of his, along with understanding. He couldn’t even blame you for treating him so coldly and keeping him at arms length. “Actually, lovie… That’s kind of why i'm here… I was gonna leave him, really I was. Was gonna kick his arse to the curb and hope that you would take me back. Even got m’self an apartment in the next town over. But in the middle of moving was when I got the call, and a lot of shit happened and then I was just… I was standing in an apartment surrounded by my things and I just…” Simon drug a hand over his face, pulling the damn thing off and revealing the face you hadn’t seen in so long. Damn, you wish he had just left the thing on so you wouldn’t have to see just how pained he looked.

That was your Simon alright. Silvery slivers of raised skin littering across his face and over the bridge of his crooked nose, indents in his face where flesh had been gouged out, and the most gorgeous blonde lashes framing those deep mocha eyes that always sucked you in down to your very soul and melted you like chocolate in his warm hands. But not this time. You wouldn’t let him just have you back, he had to earn that. “Lovie… We were wrong…” What? Wrong? A single quirked brow was all the question for elaboration that Simon needed, taking a deep and shaky breath before continuing. “We both… We both blamed him for so many things, because it was easier to blame him than admit our own problems… I was standin’ in that nearly empty apartment, and all I could think about was somethin’ my ma used to say whenever she thought of leavin’ my pa’...”

Information about Simon’s past was hard to come across, more rare than a penguin in a desert, but you knew some of the basic things. Knew about his brother, knew that his dad beat them all, knew that he was the last Riley left. But that was about it. So for him to suddenly open up like this… It raised your guard just as much as it lowered it. “She used to ask herself, would she be happier without him than she was with him? Sure, he was a drunk, he was an asshole, and he beat us all… But my ma’ could never answer the question. And lovie… Neither could I… I was in that barren excuse of a home and I just… I had nothing… Not Johnny… Not you… And I didn’t know if I could ever get you back…” His shoulders were shaking now while he buried his face in his hands. He wasn’t crying, no. This was still Simon, this was still Ghost, after all. But this shuddering breath and trembling was the closest he would ever let himself get. Here he was, practically rolling over and bearing his belly to you, and all you could do was stand there.

Sure, you wanted to tell him it was okay, to pull yourself into his lap and surround yourself in him again just like you used to… but how could you? This was your Simon again, but you weren’t his anymore. Even still, his broken voice continued. “Tried for so long… hunted you like a fuckin’ bloodhound… but captain wouldn’t let me anywhere near you until we got help… until I got help… And I didn’t want to… But Johnny said that he would if I did, and… I’m not askin’ you to take him back, or take me back… but please… I can’t live without you, lovie… at least… at least let me exist in the same world as you… please…” Kyle’s cryptic words of warning made a lot more sense now, telling you that he would fend off any dogs that came yapping where they weren’t wanted.

But this was Simon.

Maybe you had judged Jonny too much? After all, sure you felt ostracized, but was it all just in your head? Simon had admitted that he was complacent and part of the issue, but maybe you had been too. After all, when your relationship had been falling apart and Johnny stopped inviting you out on dates or to hang out with them, he was still the one who picked up your favorite snacks and drinks on a whim because he was thinking about you, and the one who payed attention to the new movies you liked. Johnny was the one who kept you from SImon’s ire when you forgot to do dishes or the like because he would do them for you, or take the heat off of you by doing something dumb.

Maybe you had been so focused on Simons and your own misery that you hadn’t seen the man cutting his own hands open to pick the pieces back up for both of you. What you thought was ostracization might have actually been him trying to give you space, taking up all of Ghost’s time might have been his way of trying desperately to distract SImon from his own head, and he was just shit at juggling people.

“Love?” Simon’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, realizing that tears stung your eyes and flooded down your cheeks. The arms crossed over your midsection had turned into clutching at your elbows, trying to keep yourself from tearing at the seams while your smaller frame trembled and wracked with silent, shaky sobs. “Oh, lovie…”

Simon’s voice was gentle as he stood, looming over you and reaching out a broad calloused hand the size of your face to gently cup your cheek and wipe away your tears like he had so many times before. So many whispered nights spent curled up on his chest, so many nights beneath the stars filled with giggles, so many days where it didn’t matter what you were doing as long as you were with him. All of them gone. His eyes were flooded with silent agony as you stepped back, recoiling away from his touch as if it were a live wire that had hurt you. SImon had hurt so many people, and Ghost had hurt so many more, and they often kept him up at night with memories of the screams, of his own death, of his brother and nephew. But the look on your face as you backed away from him was an image that would forever be seared into his brain as one of the worst. His angel had fallen from grace, his goddess had cast him from her temple, The very breath from his lungs stolen in the midst of an ocean and left him to drown.

And who was really to blame?

You? Johnny? Himself? The Russian bastards who had captured him and Soap in the first place? The lab coats wo had stuck the fucking implant hin him in the first place? There were to many people he could blame, too many places it could have home wrong.

But it didn’t matter, not when you looked at him like that. “I see.” He said, standing up straight and rolling his shoulders back, going dangerously cold, dangerously numb. A coping mechanism, the psych had called it, dissociation. Simon called it whatever fucking works. He turned on the heel of his boot and scooped his mask off of your little worn-down couch that must have come with the apartment from the way it was much more suited to Price's taste than your own. “That’s that then.”

“Wait.” A small trembling hand on the sleeve of his shirt made Simon pause his stride to the door, looking down at you with eyes that were all too cold so you wouldn’t see the anguish running through his veins. He had lost you, and he was the only person he would let himself blame.

“Friends.” That one whispered word, so soft that Simon had almost missed it over the demons berating him in his own ears was like a godsend. You were allowing him into your life again. Not back into your home or your arms or your heart. But Simon could work with friends, He could live with friends. He nodded, reaching a big hand up and ruffling your hair gently before gently tugging out of your grip and leaving your small apartment, leaving you alone to process and feel what you needed to.

He would wait any amount of time.

You were worth it.

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