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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 8 months

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Star-crossed in the Crosshairs (John Price x Reader)

Chapter 9: I Don't Know If I Can Do It

Fic Summary: This mission is the pinnacle of your efforts for the past three years. Your whole team and yourself have worked countless hours, slaughtered hundreds, risked life and limb for scraps of intel, and now it all boiled down to pairing up with another taskforce to get this job done and dusted. An unexpected spanner in the works comes in the shape of your former best friend, now also a Captain and somehow resurrected from his KIA status, John Price.

You can’t afford to let feelings - old and new - get in the way of your purpose. No matter how much you’ve missed, wished for, loved him, and no matter how much he might feel the same.

Chapter 8 // Masterlist // AO3 Version // Gif Credit // Chapter 10

“Well done,” You said as you handed Chance two twenty pound notes and sent them on their way.

Čiernik neutralised and Shepherd’s fate in the wind, the debrief was long over. Both teams had waited for you and Price, but only Price would be joining them. Part of you wanted to hear the war stories from the 141, really catch up. Then your stomach flared up and your eyes threatened to steam up and you remembered how fragile you’d let yourself get over this calendar month.

Bronze - still conked out on meds - demanded that someone have his drink for him, so you weren’t the only one missing out. Tonight, you’d spend your time numbing your ribs and hidden away.

A naughty mood plagued your mind, a naughty and self-destructive mood that cranked open a trunk of memories concerning the good old days that Price might’ve brought up via his reappearance in his life. You groaned over being at a point in your life where your twenties were “the old days”.

That naughty mood consumed your thoughts with flashbacks you hadn’t considered for years, even since realising Price was alive. Routine for your training years was what was currently playing. Two pints into a night out, you and John used to arm wrestle – an excuse to hold his hand on your part as well as an excuse to display how much you’d been working out – over a sticky table and damp bevy napkins. If the place had a karaoke machine (like your first local did), you’d always sing “Losing My Religion” like you were trying to convince each other of your perspective. Not once did you look at the screen for the words. You would put it on the jukebox if there was no karaoke, create your own jam session that would result in a warning about getting barred.

First time John convinced you to sing with him, he had his hand on your shoulder and stared intensely at you with his forehead to yours as he sang matter-of-factly, if a little unclear due to the cider. You, on the other hand, giggled through each lyric at how overwhelmed by how his steadfast cornflower eyes held you on that stage, losing yourself in the final chorus and getting cut off by your colleague, dragged home by the collar of your shirt and insisting you weren’t that bad, John egging you on all the while.

Difficult emotions bubbled like the beer you used to drink, forming a cathartic yet strangled cry in your throat as you opened the door to your temporary room. You were too injured to wear yourself out with some exercise. That was your usual cure for avoiding uncomfortable thoughts, the energy expelled causing you to pass out without any struggle of tossing and turning – or of nightmares. Even though you were absent of any gear, or your weighted blanket back at your base, to ground you into a mattress, your ribs would’ve complained the entire night. So today you were forced to recognise that the cork on your anxiety was coming loose, and the presence of Price – paired with your lovestruck Sergeants – was the equivalent of shaking the bottle.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself with a hard sniff.

The expletive offered a mild release of emotion, staving off the crying for a little longer. Long enough to raid the medical wing for some more disposable ice packs, long enough to get caught red-handed and by none other than the main cause of your pain.

“You’re back early,” You remarked as if you weren’t using your shirt as a makeshift basket for icepacks.

Price pushed a hand through his hair, smoothing it out whilst stuffing his beanie into his coat pocket, “Had my fill. The boys were insisting it was because I was getting old.”

“You’re not old. ‘Cus if you are, then I am too, and I’m not old.”

“Course not,” Price said wryly. Then he gestured to your haul, “Need a hand?”

Already, he was approaching you and – against your better judgement – you let him scoop a couple out before you both headed back to your room.

Holding your nerve, you made an attempt to be blasé: “Don’t suppose you had a sing-song at the pub?”

“No. Haven’t since I lost my duet partner.”

You winced around the corner, hoping Price would take it in response to your injuries. He must’ve done, for he didn’t allow any silence to linger on his remark:

“Played a few sessions of Shithead to determine whose round it was. You got any other plans for tonight?”

You crushed and placed a pack onto your ribs whilst John opened your door, letting you in first as you replied, “Just lie in a pile of these.”

Price’s hum with approval was masked beneath the bed creak as you carefully placed yourself on the edge of it, your chin in your hand, whilst you awkwardly iced your back. Your eyes closed without considering the extra person in the room, yet you took note of the mattress waning beneath their weight and refused to be shocked by the calloused fingertips that touched over the condensation on your hand.

“Here,” Price said, his voice low in volume and tone.

Fingers slipping out of his gentle hold, you let Price take over holding the icepack against your side. His other hand squeezed your corresponding shoulder, thumbing out the knots on that side of your spine – and there were a lot of knots. Needless to say, you were not expecting this, nor were you expecting to crave this kind of treatment until you found yourself sitting up straighter, following Price’s hand whenever it adjusted its grip on your taut muscles.

Clearing your throat, you opened your eyes, “You always made fun of me for my spa days.”

“Well, I’ve matured now,” John said quietly, his thumb digging around the edge of your left shoulder blade, “Enough to understand the value of a back rub – maybe a good bath bomb too.”

Laughter that coughed and clogged up your throat erupted from you. A tear splashed between your spread legs, leaving a little mark on the thin rug. Another ran through the same track and slipped down your face faster. That laughter slipped into sniffles fairly quickly after that.

Price’s hands stilled, “Did I hurt you?”

You sniffed and shook your head. You massive liar.

Very easily, John could’ve just offered you a tissue from the box on the bedside table. Instead, he moved to kneel in front of you, and he went to cup your face. Tilting your head away, you pushed his hands down.Temptation was enticing you to rest your forehead against his for just a second, how it would heal all torment he’d caused you – inadvertently and otherwise. You knew this was beyond a slippery slope. It was a straight drop down a crevasse with the bottom masked by fog. Shaking your head, you looked to your bedside lamp instead of him.

Without forcing you to look at him, John spoke, “I know I’ve got no right to ask you. But I’m a selfish man.”

Stubborn, yes. Ruthless, agreed. Cold. At times. But you’d never describe Jonathan Price as selfish. Not until now, at least. You realised you were still holding his hands away, a light grip he could’ve escaped from easily but hadn’t. Your face crumpled on itself and more tears fell, your head knocking against John’s as he lowered himself to his knees between your own

“Even just a scrap of that time to apologise, properly – now I know you’ve said you’re okay with what happened, but I’m not-”

His hands curved around your wrists. There, his thumb traced over your wrist where your pulse jumped under your Viking helmet tattoo – the one he argued wasn’t accurate because it didn’t have horns.

That night you got it, he’d jeered with a beer in his hand, “I should know; it’s my damn call-sign!”

You had been so drunk on his company but so jilted by his accusation that you were prepared to cross the country with him there and then to retrieve your GCSE History certificate and wave it in his face as you declared that Vikings never actually had horns on their helmets. But then you would’ve lost your spot at the parlour, and you really liked that tattoo artist’s style so you had a juvenile John sat beside you, mumbling under his breath how wrong you were to wind him up.

Your brimming tears shocked you back to the present day, having ignored most of John’s apology in favour of reminiscing of when things felt easier.

You tuned in to the end of his speech: “I kept you in the dark and lost you. I’m sorry for that and the pain I’ve caused you. I don’t expect anything. But we’re on borrowed time already. I don’t wanna waste any more of it.”

At that, you snatched your wrists back, for his words had breathed new life into the anger you convinced yourself was dormant. “We could’ve had all the time in the world, but you left me! Why did you leave me? Don’t patronise me with the “I wanted to protect you” shit. Why didn’t you come back for me?”

And you broke down sobbing, gasping for breath as your head lolled in shame, your neck and gut rife with rile. You’d never felt so pathetic, weeping over him like this after saying it was all okay. Nothing was okay. You wanted all the years of your mourning back. You wanted them back and your John back too.

He was looking upon you with pain pinching in his brow, and his voice was as gentle as he could be: “Because I’d pick you over everything.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to leave for me!”

“You wouldn’t have to. You never did.”

God, you wanted Chance or Ghost to use you as a punching bag to block out this agony that wracked your entire body with the vines of grief. Worse still, John’s honesty struck worse than any condescending comment he could’ve conjured. It told you all you needed to know about him, and it asked you something new about yourself: if he asked you to leave team Banshee, would you? Your hesitance frightened you to your core, and you know it did the same to John and his commitment to the 141.

“I’m so sorry I took you for granted, that I never came back for you. I’ll spend my life and the next making it up to you. And at the moment all I can offer you is when our leave aligns, a flat by the Mersey, and a bottle of bourbon. But I’ll give you all I am, all of it.” John sealed his promise with a kiss to your forehead,“I’ll be behind whatever you want to do about this.”

The vines were wrapping around John now, constricting you two together, interlocking your bodies together until your anguished lips found his. He tasted like the mint he’d sucked on during his walk back to base.John’s stubbled chin grated as if your face wasn’t melting with tears, desperate to print onto him. Your irreverent fingers ploughed through his cropped hair, too short to hold onto. Teeth pressed uncomfortably together. You couldn’t picture any of the romantic whirlwinds you’d conjured on lonely nights in times gone by; your mind only allowed you to take in how you and John clawed at each other, as if a loose enough grip would lose him to you forever.

As your tears blurred your sights, the truth came clear in your mind. Through an exhale that tremoured like a needle on a gauge, you pushed away from him and heaved out, “I can’t take the trying to get on without you again, I can’t. I can’t go to your funeral again. Don’t make me.”

And how you begged him, when you knew he couldn’t guarantee you a damn thing.

John’s misty eyes clung to your form without breaking contact once as he swore, “I won’t.” He renewed the vow to every plea you made, each one a plate of glass placed around you two until you were surrounded by the fragile promises that would shatter as soon as one of you left the room.

He kissed you again, simple and sweet like nothing else in your lives. You finally touched him with those hands you’d killed with, cradling his jaws as your noses slanted together, chests levitating both your bodies up and down in asynchronous panting.

But even as you felt his touch prickle across your goose-pimpled skin, the rest of your truth pushed out of your mouth and into his:

“I wanted to forgive you, I really did. But I can’t.”

Your sobbing ceased the second you finished speaking, nothing but your wrecked breathing and tears left behind in the shock that you’d finally said it. In its wake, you were faced with John’s broken expression as he stared unmoving at you. His lips parted with a shuddering and short exhale. In that moment, you knew then that he thought you would forgive him. All you could respond with was a touch of your hand to his cheek in an offer of little comfort when you repeated yourself:

“I can’t.”

John’s eyes flickered but still did not blink, as if you would vanish the second he dared not to keep you in his sights. Nowhere in those eyes did you see him imploring you to change your mind. He simply reeled in the agony of reality crashing into dreams, splintering them beyond repair. You looked, really looked, past the youths you used to be. Borrowed time indeed, in your line of work, the flecks of grey in John’s beard and minute scars in his skin hinted at what remained of his life.

You decided to let yourself yearn for your history one more time.

“But can we…” You wiped your nose and sniffed, “Can we pretend, for the next few hours, that I have forgiven you?”

John swallowed and nodded. His eyes were wet, but he released nothing until you kissed him again, and you felt the first splash from where his cheek bumped yours, salt soaking together.

Trembling and keeping your lips to his, you removed John’s watch and touched over the nerve diagram, your not-so-matching tattoos. Your fingertips treaded along where his pulse ran on tracks through thick hairs and collected the sleeves as they went. Forming fists, you tugged at the bunched-up fabric, gently at first, then growing rapidly impatient, soon grappling with his shirt just as his tongue made an intrepid entrance in your mouth. An intrusive hand beside your injured ribs spun you around and into his lap, John now perched beside where you’d been, his shirt somewhere else. He was holding on tightly, and you were scratching his furred chest too harshly, the kiss clunky and incoherent.

Grief was forcing its way back up your throat, rejecting this attempt to compel reconciliation. Your last ditch effort to keep it at bay made you press your lips hard against hard down his neck until your broken cries were bleated against his collarbones.

John’s agitated chest kept you trapped with his arms warped around you. His trembling tongue whispered over and over “I’m sorry” beside your ear, his intentions clear but muddied by the impact of his words, stabbing you in your heart with every repetition.

Mustering enough energy to hold yourself together, you shut him up with your mouth on his, determined to make this easier for you both. Smoothing out his sticking-up hair did precious little to conjure the comfort you were seeking. Your face slid away from his in the rush of tears pouring down John’s face like rain on a car window. Resigned, you slumped against his chest, letting your breathing hiccup in your aching chest. John drew you back into his arms, applying an icepack to your side as he somehow manoeuvred you both under the blankets. At least he wasn’t apologising anymore.

You began phasing between light sleep and wake. Though you were roused from sleep by your ribs, each time the vines’ grip he held you in squeezed intermittently and kept you safe in a bubble whilst acting as if you weren’t in these impersonal quarters, maybe even in that apartment he mentioned. A few times, both of you were awake, having moved away to the far edges of the bed in your soporific turmoil. He returned to you every time and did just as you asked: pretended that this you could have each other like this, every night past the sunrise.

“John?”

“Hmm?”

“When I next wake up, I want you gone.”

Silence for a minute. And then:

“Ok.”

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AN: Black Viking was an access code for Captain Price, so I reworked it as a callsign for this fic - though it's more like "Viking" as the callsign.

Thank you for your patience with the uploads! Only two chapters more to go! Thank you also @bunnyreaper for being a Beta on this chapter <3

Tag-list: @mockerycrow and @algor-babe

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price #john price fanfic #cod fanfic #cod x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw2 #my writing #series #r: gn

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ultimatenomi · 2 years

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After going to see the London Newsies production (finally!!!) I may be back in my Newsies era...

and so I thought I’d dig out some artefacts from previous Newsies eras- first up: this is an article I wrote in high school like 4 years before the 2011 Papermill Playhouse Production (text under the cut)

NEWSIES! NEWSIES! READ ALL ABOUT IT! Many of you will have been, or will be, paper boys or girls. Just think about every time you cursed your job- how horrible your job was, and for such a small wage! Now consider that you got to return to a warm house, and you could conceive the option of quitting. The boys and girls of New York in the turn of the 20th Century who lived and worked as newsboys and news girls, or ‘Newsies’ as they were referred to, didn’t always have that option. Although many lived at home with their families, you can guarantee they would have been living in a cramped apartment, probably shared with another family or two.

In the nineteenth century, America brought hope to people all over the world- a hope for safety and for freedom from persecution. Because of this, immigrants flooded to the East coast of America, New York being the main entry point. Most of the people coming off the ships had used their last pennies they had just to get to America, and those who hadn’t only had pennies left after the journey. This was the cause of the overcrowded city of immigrants.

Consider now how old you have to be by law to work. The average age range for a Newsie in New York in 1899 was 8 and 15, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t five year olds out on the streets ‘carrying the banner’, in those days, if you could walk, you could work, even if you couldn’t walk there was still a chance- many disabled or injured Newsies would use their ailment to its full potential to gain sympathy from sympathetic passersby to buy a paper, or tip generously. Some kids even faked an injury or handicap for these reasons.

The children living or working on the streets were not stupid as many at the time thought; they were street smart and knew every inch of their territories as a result of finding the best spots to sell at. They knew how to gamble, and they did, they gambled they smoked and they cursed their little mouths off. The children knew exactly how to ‘improve the truth’ when there was a bad headline, ho to wheedle money out of those people on the street that had better fortune than they did; they would fumbled around in their pockets for a long time to find change so that the person buying the paper would grow impatient and leave before collecting change from a dime or nickel, or sometimes if a buyer was in a rush, they could sneak less change into their hand before they walked off.

They had to be good at what they did, they were the main distributors of the news- before television, before radio- you wouldn’t know what was happening in the rest of the world or country unless you bought a newspaper and the newsies distributed 90% of them. The children first decided which paper they wanted to sell, then purchased a particular amount of papers from a distribution office.

When the Spanish Civil War broke out the newspapers sent ‘foreign war correspondents’ out to see what was going on, and to make up for their money losses decided to raise the price of the papers for the distribution apparatus from 50 cents per hundred papers to 60 cents per hundred, and while the newsies were making good profits, when they had good headlines this was fine, but after the war ended and sales dropped considerably, they were struggling to make ends meet- they had to pay for lodging, food and for their daily papers, but when you’re making only 30 cents a day this becomes increasingly harder and you are forced to skip meals, or sleep on the streets. When this happened the papers lowered their prices again to 50 cents per hundred papers- every newspaper that is- apart from the New York World and the Journal owned by Joseph Pulitzer and William Randolph Hearst. This, coupled with the knowledge of a strike of some trolley workers in New York City, led to one of the biggest strikes in history- the newsie strike of 1899.

The most notable and famous newsies of the strike were Kid Blink- who supposedly led the strike, Race Track Higgins, who organized a rally at Irving Hall, a Vaudeville theater, and Spot Conlon, a known leader of Brooklyn, who is well know to have worn pink suspenders. The strike itself ran from the 20th of July 1899 right through until partway into August and throughout this time the boys were known to fight with ‘scabs’ and rip up their forbidden newspapers (journal and world). However while they were constantly making trouble for the everyday person with massive protest marches across the Brooklyn Bridge and their blow-out of a rally at Irving hall, the boys didn’t pick fights with ‘The Bulls’, or policemen as they are better known, choosing to leave them out of it- this didn’t mean they didn’t get arrested however; quite the opposite, not a day went by during the strike that at least one newsboy wasn’t arrested for ‘disturbing the peace’. Another set of people who were free from violence were the news girls, the boys on strike refused to fight with the girls, and so they were free to sell the forbidden newspapers.

The strike, although it didn’t achieve exactly what the newsies had hoped to achieve, was a success. The boys, a girls, of New York beat the likes of Pulitzer and Hearst to their knees and forced them to give in. They came to an arrangement that, although the price of the papers would remain at 60 cent per hundred, they would have the right to sell back any unsold papers for a full refund at the end of the day, this way the newsies had less concerns about eating the loss of any unsold papers, and so didn’t really have to worry about buying too many at the beginning.

Kid Blink has been written about in story books and he along with Race Track, Spot and many other real-life newsies were portrayed in a Disney musical very loosely based on the strike, although not necessarily portrayed as just as important they were to the actual strike.

#newsies #uk newsies

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alaffy · 2 years

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The Baby, Ep. 01 – The Arrival

The Baby is an 8-part British series that can be found on HBO Max. Each episode is about 25 to 30 minutes long and is described as a comedy-horror. I will say, based on the first episode, I would find a situation like this to be a horror without the supernatural elements.

The show starts with a woman being chased through a wooded area by two policemen. The woman, who is carrying a bag, comes to the edge of a cliff and stops. The policemen ask her to back away from the edge and to put the bag down. The woman does so, and they ask her to unzip the bag. Inside, is the baby. The policemen ask the woman to put her hands up. However, she takes a few steps back and goes over the cliff. The baby starts to crawl to the cliff and the policemen run towards the baby. However, the baby seems to have gone over as well.

We cut to an apartment where three women are playing poker. The apartment is owned by our protagonist, Natasha. Natasha is 38 years old, and it soon becomes clear that the priorities she has in her life aren’t the same as her friends’. Rather, the two friends are on the journey of motherhood and, well, Natasha isn’t that interested. Now, obviously, that’s a choice that Natasha has every right to make; her statements towards her friends who have/are having children are not. And, really, I’m not going to repeat them here; let’s just say she was disrespectful to her friends’ choices. Of course, this causes friction between Natasha and her friends. So, Natasha decides to go away for a few days just to get her head in a better place.

Natasha ends up renting a cabin that just so happens to be at the bottom of the cliff we saw earlier. That night, Natasha ends up going out for a smoke...only to have the body of the woman from the beginning drop behind her. Natasha looks up and sees the baby coming towards her, who she happens to catch in her arms.

We cut to inside the cabin, where Natasha is covered in blood splatters and holding the baby. Meanwhile, the police officers are freaking out because “they” have had a traumatic night. Anyway, the police officers take the baby and leave the cabin. But they don’t get far. Just as the police car starts to pull off, Natasha hears a crash. She goes outside to find that a large boulder has crushed the front of the car. The two officers are dead, but the baby is fine.

Natasha gets the baby, puts him in a laundry basket, and drives off in her car. Natasha calls the police department and lets them know what’s happened. She also makes it clear that she’s left the scene because she doesn’t want to be stuck with three dead bodies and asks where the nearest station is. It turns out to be about an hour away. On the way to the station, Natasha stops at a gas station in order to use the toilet. She asks the person behind the counter to watch the baby while she uses the restroom.

After using the restroom, Natasha decides to scamper out the window instead of coming back for the baby. Natasha gets to her car, but it won’t start. Then, she hears a crash from within the station. She goes inside to find a shelf has fallen on the worker, killing him.

Natasha arrives at the station, where she is forced to answer some questions. The Detective decides to keep her there overnight, “for her safety.” In her cell, Natasha is lying down when The Detective comes in with the baby; saying the baby won’t stop crying. Of course, now that the baby is with Natasha, he calms down and so the baby is left in the cell. Natasha realizes the baby must be hungry but tells him she can’t do anything about it. Suddenly, she starts to leak. She starts to feed the baby; when suddenly he bites her. She pulls the baby away to see it has sharp teeth and strange eyes.

Natasha wakes up from her nightmare as The Detective comes in. As Natasha’s story seems to check out, she is free to go. Natasha goes home and starts to clear up the apartment. Suddenly she hears her door buzzer and goes to the door. At first, she doesn’t see anyone there. Then, she looks down and sees the baby in the laundry basket.

#the baby #natasha williams

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thesolferino · 4 years

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senior high school bf!dream headcanons

⤷ note: literally woke up this morning and couldn’t get it out of my head so i wrote this whole thing at like 8 am while having coffee instead of writing my actual requests. hope you enjoy!

mister “quarterback on the school’s football team-wide shoulders-super tall-pretty smile-letterman jacket” dream

your high school jock bf dream (no pun intended)

your high school was never that cliquey in the first place, but clay was definitely popular and well known by the whole school

he mostly hung out with nick (who everybody grew to call sapnap) and george who were, as opposed to him, kind of shit at sports, but geniuses in literally everything else

he never dated one of the cheerleaders despite them obviously hitting on him (who could blame them?) - he simply wasn’t interested. ppl couldn’t believe it, especially him being a senior and never having dated anyone from the school

the person he DID, however, end up dating, was you - a girl he had to tutor in english ‘cause you were so bad at it that you were absolutely going to fail

he wasn’t all that excited about it, assuming you wouldn’t want to cooperate, until he saw how pretty you were when you approached him to figure out when you guys were gonna meet up

and once he figured out you were actually quite good at english, just didn’t have the attention span for writing long essays, he liked you even more

during your shared chemistry class, for a moment he turned around to look at you, and you smiled at him from your place at the other end of the classroom

sapnap and george caught that. they did not let it go for approximately the rest of eternity

they actually let it go after a few weeks when they saw the two of you leaving the school together, hands interlocked

my GOD he would be a sucker for you wearing his clothes - ESPECIALLY HIS LETTERMAN

he’d take it off in school just to give it to you so you can walk around in his jacket and show off that you’re his

lots of stares since, like, that’s CLAY’s jacket!!!

he also gets jealous/protective so easily

one of the dudes in your class tells you you’re pretty? arm around your waist immediately

someone who’s into clay DARES to make fun of you? he’ll embarrass them in front of the whole class. no mercy!

he thinks you’re like the coolest person alive. he’ll just sit and listen to you ramble about things you love forever

you’d come to football practice with him when you had time (and even when you didn’t, because he’d beg you to come watch him) and cheered him on every time he seemed vaguely happy with his results since you had 0 knowledge of the game

be prepared for a lot of smelly and sweaty hugs

nothing he loves more than picking you up and spinning you around after they win a game

and hugging you very very very very very tight

“baby, let me go, you smell!” “what? i can’t hear you.” “i said you smell! let me go!” “wait, i need to bring you closer, i can’t hear what you’re saying.” “NO!!!!!”

also late night talks about your future and what he wants to do when he’s finally out

not sure if he wants to use his intellectual skills and learn coding or put his love for writing to use or keep doing football

you teasing him saying he’s like troy from high school musical

him wheezing loudly and claiming you’re gabriella

cue half an hour of discussing high school musical

going back to that “clay after they win a game” point,,,,,

nsfw under the cut! if you are a minor or uncomfortable with such topics, please stop reading here!

⤷ note: the characters in this story are high school seniors, which means they are 18-19 years old!

he’d have SO much adrenaline and energy that just needs to go somewhere

istg the stamina that man has is crazy

if the guys stick around in the locker room he’ll just usher you to one of the bathrooms and fuck you there

he does not give a single fuck if a teacher walks in; it’s their damn problem!

and if everyone gets changed quickly and leaves for an afterparty you bet you’re getting railed on one of those benches

“come on, baby, get on your hands and knees for me.”

he’s definitely one for overstimulating so he’ll just fuck you through your orgasm, fingers still on your clit and everything to the point you have to push them away

feel like he would be really good at aftercare so after he fills you up he’ll pick you up and sit you down on the bench, get some tissues and whatnot

“you okay?” “does it hurt?” “d’you want me to carry you?” “i didn’t hurt you too much, did i?”

and when they lose the game

whoooOooooo boy

you’re getting railed into next fucking week with all the force he has in his body

he’s going full degradation mode + spanking bc fucking you is just not getting that energy out by itself

“look at how you clench around me, whore. my little whore, aren’t you?

“i told you not to hold back. keep doing that and i’ll fuck you in the damn cafeteria so you’ll be sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

his ego is just wayyyyy too big to not have you screaming every time

tease him and he will have you spread out, begging and pleading. literally no question about it

“aw, you thought that was funny, didn’t you? not so funny now, is it, princess?”

he’ll edge you for literal hours until you apologise. don’t underestimate him! he has his goals set and will do whatever it takes to get to them

that’s what makes him so successful, i suppose

i just feel like he would be a vvv sweet boyfriend 🥺

(would defo convince you to go to a college that’s close to his but that’s a story for a different time)

football player dream supremacy, me thinks!

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dream imagines #dreamwastaken imagine #dream fluff #dream angst #dream smut #dream fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfic #dreamwastaken smut

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pingutats · 3 years

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wake up in some promised land

despite his best efforts to keep their relationship out of the public eye, harry & y/n are photographed together as they leave a party one night —and harry has an interview the very next morning.

warnings: a little bit of angst about trying to navigate fame and a relationship. harry has a foul mouth. but there’s a happy ending!

word count: 2.2k

. . . . .

Harry was decidedly not in a good mood.

It had been a late night. He’d had a few more drinks than he usually did. In his defence it was earned—he’d just released an album, it was soaring to great heights on iTunes charts all over the world and already receiving overwhelmingly positive reviews—so sue him if he indulged in some expensive champagne, a couple fancy cocktails, too many rounds of shots for him to remember clearly… It was a good night all around.

The headache he has right now though, brought on by the sudden blare of his alarm (far earlier than he would have preferred), threatens to tarnish the memory. He even considers swearing off drinking forever so he’ll never suffer like this again.

When he voices this intention to a dozing Y/N as he pulls a shirt on, his only feedback is a pillow-muffled, “You’re such an old man, H.”

He leans over the bed and kisses the small part of her forehead that’s exposed between the pillow and the blanket. “Come on, love. Time to get up.”

“You can get up. I don’t have a radio appearance to make.” She jerks the blanket up to cover her head entirely. “I’ll stay here, thank you very much.”

He manages to drag her downstairs with him anyway, with promises of making her coffee and a hot breakfast. In the kitchen she yawns and stretches, the over-sized sleep shirt opening like bat wings as she raises her arms above her head. He has to force his fond gaze away to concentrate on turning the coffee machine on and pulling eggs out of the fridge.

“This is a really ungodly hour,” she comments, watching him rummage around in a cupboard for a frying pan.

“No such thing as a good night’s sleep when you’re as successful as I am,” he tells her wisely.

She doesn’t even indulge him with a laugh, which tells him exactly how tired she is.

The coffee’s done quickly—Harry is so addicted to the stuff he could probably make it in his sleep with all the practise he’s had—and she grabs the cup from him with greedy fingers, closing her eyes and sipping as she’s perched up on the counter.

Harry nearly lets out a moan when the caffeine hits his lips. It surely can’t work that quickly, but already he’s starting to feel alive again. He turns to the stovetop and cracks the eggs in the frypan with one hand, using his other hand to cling to his cup for dear life.

His phone starts ringing and the sound pierces through his head. His manager’s name is displayed, which is a good thing because if it was anyone else calling right now Harry would probably be tempted to kill them, and even if no publicity is bad publicity, he’s not sure a murder charge would be good for his album sales. He slides his finger across the screen to answer it and tucks the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he adjusts the heat on the stove.

“Hey, Jeff,” he says.

Jeff laughs on the other end. “You sound fucked.”

“Big night,” Harry grumbles. “You don’t sound to pretty yourself.”

“All I’m saying is you better get yourself set in the next half hour, ‘cause a voice like that on the radio isn’t going to help you sell records.”

“I’m makin’ breakfast,” Harry retorts. “Got a coffee, I’ll be fine—oh, shit—fuck!” He’s mixed up his hands as he tried to flip the eggs, and poured coffee in the frypan. “Give me a second.”

He sets his coffee down on the counter and unsticks his phone from his cheek, turning it on speaker and placing it next to his cup. He stares at mess in the frypan and decides he’s going to have to try drain the liquid into the sink, without losing the eggs. He accepts this challenge with humility and grace, because he knows it’s his own stupid fault.

Y/N is cackling behind him. On any other day he might have been annoyed, but her laughter this morning just means that she’s in a better mood than earlier. He’d give anything to keep her happy, so if it takes fucking up their breakfast to have her smiling—so be it.

“Okay,” Harry says to Jeff once he’s secured the situation.

“Is everything okay over there?” Jeff’s voice is slightly tinny through the phone speaker, but his stress is evident in his tone.

“Yeah, we’re just—“ he looks at the eggs, dyed brown by the coffee, and glances over his shoulder apologetically at Y/N. “We’re having caffeinated eggs. You’re on speaker. Y/N’s here too. Say hi, baby.”

“Hey, Jeff,” Y/N chirps.

Jeff sighs. “Hi. Listen, it‘s probably good that you both hear this anyway. There are a couple of photos of the two of you from last night that are doing the rounds on Twitter this morning.”

Harry stiffens. “What?”

Here’s the thing: Harry and Y/N are definitely an item. It’s happened pretty quickly. They’ve been dating for a few months and now whenever they’re in the same city they’re practically living together. They’ve said “I love you” to each other often enough that its utterance isn’t a special occasion anymore. So, sure, they’re boyfriend-girlfriend, and if all goes to Harry’s plan, they’ll be more than that soon enough.

But in the meantime, she’s also his best-kept secret. There have been rumours, of course. They’ve been spotted having lunch together or going on walks. Anyone paying attention knows they’re good friends, but Harry has been careful not to let the other dimension of their relationship slip out into public yet. He conducts himself on public outings (secretly dates) like a Victorian gentleman, constantly vigilant that his affection never goes beyond what’s appropriate between friends.

“They’re not bad,” Jeff says quickly. “It’s just pretty obvious what’s going on. I’ll send them to you, hang on.”

Y/N slides off the bench and comes to stand right behind Harry, leaning around him to stare at the phone. The minute of waiting for the photos to come through feels like forever. Y/N must sense his tension, because she puts her hands on his shoulders and squeezes.

A notification pops up at the top of his screen: from Jeff, 8 images attached. He taps it quickly and frowns at the photos.

They must have been taken as they were leaving the bar that the album release party was at. He notices Jeff and others also crowded on the pavement outside, lit by the orange glow of streetlights. The focus, however, is of course on Harry and Y/N, who were putting on something of a show for all their friends—and, apparently, the rest of the world.

The first couple are okay. There Harry is, his arm slung around Y/N, clearly not sober as he bellows something up to the sky with a massive grin on his face and closed eyes. They were singing, he vaguely remembers, the karaoke they were doing inside the bar spilling over the rest of their night. Y/N is laughing at him, clapping her hands together.

Harry drags his finger up the screen to scroll to the next photos in Jeff’s chain. These ones start to reveal the two of them as much more than just friends. The arm around her dropped to her waist, pulling her into his body. And then he was bending his head down. And then he was kissing her.

He scrolls down even further.

In this one, he’s groping her ass in full view of the camera.

“Harry, you lecher!” Y/N scolds, smacking his arm in good humour.

He just shakes his head, staring at the photo. “There’s no plausible deniability, is there?”

“There isn’t,” Jeff says over the phone. He laughs weakly. “You two put on a real show.” He must sense the panic that Harry’s feeling, because he adds, “Listen, Harry, I can blacklist questions about it if you want. Just tell me what you want to do.”

Harry looks at Y/N, chewing on his lip. He feels like a teenager again, out of control of his narrative and at the mercy of the media. He’s meticulously developed his skills of privacy for years, now, and one night of insobriety and bad luck undid it all.

Jeff clears his throat. “The thing with blacklisting is that it might raise more questions. And even if you don’t talk about it, you’ve gotta remember that everyone else will be.”

“Yeah.” Harry runs a hand through his hair. “Look—“

Y/N puts her hand on his cheek, patting him. “Hey,” she says gently. “It’s okay.”

He sucks in a deep breath through gritted teeth and holds it in for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he says finally with a sigh.

She scoffs. “You’re not the only one in these photos.”

He frowns. She doesn’t get that he’s apologising for more than just the photos. It’s the fact that they have to deal with this at all, that it’s such a big deal for them to simply act like a normal couple. It’s the fact that it’s him, and he is who he is.

“H,” she presses further. “It’s up to you. Your decision. But I want you to know that I’m happy whichever way you choose.”

He searches her eyes for any hint of doubt. She didn’t manage to clean off all her make-up last night, and there’s a smear of glitter on her temple and dark smudges of mascara underneath her eyes. She looks tired, but she’s definitely serious about what she’s saying.

“You get what it means to be public with me, though,” he says at last. He hesitates. “It’s… intense.”

She shrugs and gives him a cocky grin. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I am too.” She’s holding his head in her hands, her fingers smoothing his unruly curls off his face. “It’s just a few photos. It isn’t everything.”

It isn’t everything. Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then leans down to kiss her gently. It’s just an innocent peck, but the feel of her soft lips against his is enough to ground him.

Jeff clears his throat awkwardly.

They break apart with embarrassed smiles. “Sorry,” Harry says, but he isn’t really.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, sounding uncomfortable. “You’re going to have to make a decision soon, because we’re really cutting it fine.”

Harry looks at Y/N, who nods.

He turns back to the phone. “Don’t worry about it,” Harry says. “Let them ask the questions.”

“Yeah?” Jeff asks. “Okay then, that saves me a load of trouble. Good luck, man. Enjoy it.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, hanging up with a sharp tap on the screen. He turns around to Y/N with a grin on his face. “Where were we…”

Y/N giggles as he gathers her into his arms, pulling her in close for a kiss that no one else can see or hear, a kiss just for them. When she pulls back to breath, he peppers his lips all over her face until she’s squirming away—“Harry, that tickles!”

He lands one last kiss on her cheek before his gaze lands on the time display on the oven behind her, which tells him he has ten minutes before he needs to be on the Zoom call for the interview.

She notices the sudden shift in his demeanour and glances behind her to see what caused it. She turns back around. “I’ll sit with you.”

He nods. “Yeah, okay, I’d like that.”

“It’s Harry Styles!” the presenter cries.

“It’s me! Hello, hello,” he says, waving at the screen. The laptop is set on the coffee table and he’s sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees as he grins at the screen. “How are ya?”

“Oh, we’re wonderful,” the presenter replies. “More importantly, how are you? Looks like you had a big night last night, judging by these photos we’re seeing!”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Big night,” he echoes, dragging out the word.

The presenter laughs. “Sounds like a great time. Well deserved after this masterpiece of an album. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but it looks like you’re quite close with somebody there. Would you explain what’s going on here, Harry?”

Harry peers at the photo displayed on his computer screen, even though he knows exactly what it will be. The one they chose is a sweet one, with Y/N’s arms wrapped around his neck and kiss that he seems to be melting into. He can’t suppress his smile at that. “Oh, well,” he says. “That’s my friend Y/N.”

The presenter raises his eyebrows at that. “Good friend, is she?”

Harry glances up over the laptop to look at Y/N, sitting on the other couch, her cheeks pink and round from her smile. Harry surreptitiously reaches his arm towards her, out of frame, and she leans forward to hold his hand.

“She is. She’s a lovely girl.” He squeezes her hand. “Yeah, we’re very good friends.”

. . . . .

thank you so much for reading! this fic is based on a request from @kissmyaxe140 — i really intended this to be a shorter blurb of a few hundred words, but i’m incapable of brevity. apparently. this grew into a little monster but i rlly had fun writing it!! the title is a lyric from secret life by bleachers.

if you liked this fic, a reblog and/or any kind of feedback would be very much appreciated. my masterlist can be found here and you can send me messages here. have a gorgeous day!

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #fic

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theamberwizard · 3 years

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i’ve been thinking about black widow and the red room recently, as one does, and i’ve got a lot of thoughts about the effects of the red room on widows who’ve escaped. couple things, just before i begin: i would recommend having watched black widow before this because there are implied (?) spoilers, i use way too fancy language while i write and i don’t have an editor cause this is mainly to catch her off guard, so, uh, whoops sorry

trigger warnings: TW: child abuse TW: restricted eating/starving yourself TW: dehumanization TW: death of a child

so yeah, enjoy my list of 10 personal headcanons about how the red room fucks you up on all the levels.

1) black widows cannot sleep in. like, they wake up at 5:00 am every day. it’s not a physical thing, at least not as far as they know, because they can negate that by just going to bed two hours or less before 5:00 am just from their lack of sleep. if, however, they go to sleep at a fairly normal hour they will, like clockwork, wake up at 5:00. this stems from them doing it every single day of their life since they got indoctrinated in the red room. if they didn’t wake up at 5:00 am ready for more training or missions, for any reason, they would be tortured. sometimes physically, sometimes mentally. eventually, all the widows would get that message. they still can’t shake it. because of that, natasha will often refuse to go to sleep at a normal hour, trying to force her body into submission, trying to rid herself of the painful memories that accompanied sleep and waking up afterwards. only clint knows why, because each day in that vent, natasha would snap up at 4:00 am. she had to explain to him that she just wasn’t accustomed to budapest time, and that actually, it was 5:00 am in russia.

2) for months after escaping the red room, widows practically cannot eat. in the red room, they were fed mushy messes of meals, filled with only the necessary nutrients that they absolutely had to have to survive. most widows can only get down one meal, maybe even a snack if they push it, until they throw it all up. they have to slowly eat slightly more each day for weeks until they can get down a normal intake of food. even then, it’s hard to push that, and every widow relapses into throwing up in those early stages. however, this isn’t normally a problem for most widows until a couple weeks into their life with freedom. that’s about the time that they make an acquaintance, who will eventually pluck up the courage to ask them why every time said friend will eat near the widow, the widow will lean over and whisper: “careful, that’s your whole ration today and i don’t want to do extra training.”

3) each “class” of widows had an extra mentor teacher in their early red room years. this was an older widow, someone who’d been falling behind in her recent missions, and with a look that the red room deemed “motherly”. their sole purpose was to be the person each widow got attached too, the parental figure. they were nice, they were helpful, they taught many different basic techniques. then, one day, the red room would have another older widow, (one already introduced to the children as the metaphorical “bad cop” of this scenario) come in and inform the mentor that she had failed her latest mission and proceed to, in front of thirty eleven year-olds, shoot the mentor. the mentor widow would not die that day- the red room refused to waste such a weapon- but the class of up incoming widows would be informed that she had. the official purpose of this exercise was to demonstrate to both the trainees and the trainer the consequences of failing a mission. the unofficial purpose? that would be the last psychological effects the mentor’s “death” would have upon the class, making them learn what happened to attachments in the red room. the day natasha’s class experienced this was the day she cut off all contact with her sister. the day yelena experiences this is the day she first another widow- because yelena killed that mentor with her own bare hands before the informant ever finished the announcement.

4) towards the start of the red room’s history, there were several attacks on the red room. the first ever attack was from a local police station who had been getting complaints of loud wailing, and, upon further investigation, realized what they were dealing with. they brought several other police and militia groups from nearby towns. the immediate action that was taken was to throw the littlest girls they had at the attackers. it stopped the police in their tracks, obviously, because you really don’t expect to come across thirty little girls while searching through a building of highly trained assassins. the red room then sent their fully trained widows and killed everyone. including the girls. the red room then found that footage from their cameras (because of fucking course they have cameras) and then showed it to the next batch of widows, just to show them how disposable they were.

5) yelena and natasha almost caused a whole fucking mutiny within the red room just because of their names. in the red room, you see, widows do not get names. they instead are bestowed with numbers, and even those are a twisted class ranking. they all wore little name tags with the numbers on them until came natasha and yelena came in. yelena, having just seen her mother get shot, complied almost immediately and was addressed as number 42. on the other side of that coin you have natasha, who had already been in the red room and remembered every gruesome detail, and went “fuck you my name is natalia.” upon hearing of this (word gets around fast in the red room. every girl must know they are being listened to at all times, and no secrets can be kept from the red room,) yelena too announced her name to the class.

6) this was met with blanching from every child in that class, because how on earth can you be called by a word? no, they thought, we are numbers, we are weapons, we are not people and we cannot have our own words, for we are not worthy. but secretly, internally, they wished for a name. slowly, they began piecing syllables together until they formed a coherent name, and for the first time in the red room’s long history, they didn’t have weapons. not anymore. they have two full classes of human little girls. the red room officials heard of this, obviously, and took to the only method they had now. violence. the classes were rid of the named girls, yet natasha and yelena were kept alive. they were kept alive to be ostracized, to be the girl the others pointed at and said “she’s the reason all my friends died.” they were kept alive so they could watch the carnage they had unwittingly caused just by saying their own names. and the worst part? well, the worst part was when the teachers accounted for those kills, and made them top of the class. yelena will never forget the day the teachers stood her and her sister up in front of all the widows-in-traning and told them what a good job they had done, how those tactics were sure to help them graduate. i mean, you’re practically a shoo-in if they rest of your class was killed by your school.

7) the red room could never fully stop the names, and so they decided to make a system, and the names would be the highest reward. they told the young, impressionable girls that while maybe outsiders such as natasha and yelena got names at birth, you had to earn them here. if you are to become a spy, you will take on the name of you very first official alias. if, instead, you become an assassin, you will take on the name of your very first official kill. of course, in reality, the widows couldn’t actually address each other with their new earned names, and instead used “team leader” or other such titles. but it became a small comfort for them, thinking of themselves in third person, with their very own names. in some small part they weren’t fully weapons anymore, no, they were people again. natasha took on the name natalia, because in her mind that life in ohio had been her first mission, even if she hadn’t known it. yelena took on yelena as well, but in her mind that little girl in ohio who was sitting in the backseat, caring only about which song they played, that girl had to have been yelena’s first true kill.

8) the names system worked well in the red room, but when you escaped it caused some serious problems. most would have to announce themselves to the russian government, saying they had been flying under the radar their whole life and never became registered. then, they’d give a non-russian name, and their whole ruse would fall apart. unfortunately, this was the least of their problems, because many a widow would someday meet a relative of their very first kill, and when they introduced themselves as the person they had killed all those years ago, the families and friends would often figure them out.

9) one of the biggest parts of the red room’s brainwashing was their little catchphrases they used. ironically, a lot of them were eerily close to boy scout mottos- “be prepared,” an iconic scout motto, versus “there is no safety, only preparedness,” the most frequently used phrase within the red room. when widows then escaped, the most small phrase could set them off. some unknowing widows even adopted little boys in their new lives, who often became boy scouts. the ensuing misery is something you can imagine yourself.

10) after clint helped natasha to escape, she immediately died her hair blond. clint asked why, of course, and she didn’t tell him. (what, you thought i’d have another cute clintasha moment? never.) this was partly because she hadn’t admitted it to herself, though, because natasha couldn’t remember her sister without remembering all the suffering that came with her.

11) when the widows were smaller, more susceptible to the conditioning, the red room would stage infiltrations. older widows, ones who were closer to retirement, would come in in different uniforms, sometimes the uniforms of UN officers or local police, sometimes different organizations, all different types. the most recent uniforms made yelena sick looking at them, because each time the older widows would pretend to be the avengers there would also be one pretending to be her sister. each time she saw the fake natasha she wanted to break that widow’s neck because that’s not how my sister tilts her head, you’re doing it all wrong. you should be doing it like this, you shouldn’t be doing it at all, i should be doing this, i know my sister. each time those exact thoughts went into her head, and each time all she really wanted was for her sister to be there, for natasha to do her little head tilt upon seeing yelena and take her hand and say “you’re safe now, i promise,” and for natasha to be telling the truth. the only problem was that deep down inside herself yelena knew that this could never actually happen while yelena was still in the red room, because while yelena was still in the red room she knew that she would look at natasha telling her she was safe and tell her in return that there was no safety, only preparedness, and then murder her sister in cold blood.

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aridwyrm · 2 years

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antares grant is beta class mutant with the ability of dragon physiology. they’ve been in new york for twelve years where they spend most of their time as guitarist/drifter. when i think of them, i think of choking on embers, glimpses of scales through pale skin, well-worn cardboard stencils. they are affiliated with no one ( neutral ). || (matt smith, thirty-seven, cis man, he/him) — [ira, twenty-two, he/him, pst, n/a!]

hello, sorry for the several day lapse between my initial task and this intro. i got unexpectedly busy with irl stuff and didn’t have the time to get this prepped and posted. let me introduce you very briefly to my pathetic meow meow.

antares (tares, ares, ant, he will accept any shortening of his name) was born in rural louisiana and raised primarily in foster care.

he was always a little weird looking, he came out looking like an overcooked russet potato which was actually NOT due to his mutation, just his genetics in general. but he was bright and quick and got along with the other children in the foster ward in spite of his mutated features.

the adults within his life were not as accepting, and he received a lot of mistreatment that would’ve otherwise passed him by. a typical experience for an identifiable mutant, i think. he often ran away from the ward and later from homes he was fostered into.

he was thirteen when that got him into more trouble than he had bargained for though! zipping out into a dark street after vaulting several fences had him in the stoplights of a mom-van that sideswiped him. if he were just a human child, the blow probably would’ve killed him—instead, it activated those dormant dragon genes.

emboldened by a second form and presumed dead-via-sedan, the irresponsible preteen set out on his own; stealing, breaking-and-entering, swindling, sleeping under dumpsters. a less than glamorous lifestyle for sure, but he got by until he didn’t.

several stints in juvenile detention and one three year stay in whitey bulger's final airbnb (prison) sees our draconic idiot a thoroughly unemployable twenty-four year old, substance addicted and disenfranchised to the max. with little else to resort to, he is back on his bullshit stealing and causing problems in new york.

sleeping rough and living rougher, antares has had many professions, none of them very swanky. for almost six years he was skimming by working alternately as an escort, the worst imitation of walter white physically possible, ticket scalper, thief, waiter, or cutting copper wire out of phone booths thanks to his relative immunity to being electrozooted to death.

thankfully he found a niche. or rather… the niche found him? weaned (by force) off his various chemical confections, a semi-soberised antares worked making custom guitars with a fellow mutant in a dusty little instrument shop in the bronx. freshly thirty with his own bedroom for the first time, what a slay indeed.

by this time it had been 8 years since he’d gone dragon. his first time getting back in the skies after that long was so painful that he nearly gave up on being a sky lizard. however the freedom… was too delicious to pass up. he can never do in the city as the damage would be…. cataclysmic, he takes a motorbike out into rural rural new york state every weekend just to galavant. this has resulted in a litany of dragon-shaped myths popping up.

he still makes guitars. hes very good at it. he plays them too. his band is called hand of the sock puppet or HOTSP for short (said like hots with a p on the end) and makes shitty grunge-y mutant orientated music for when you’re a mutant and it makes you feel sad because life sucks. open for auditions, he’s the only member and he can’t sing but he’s doing his best.

hes also a graffiti artist because why not. theres so much free space in new york to slap a stenciled or freehand painting on. his art was shit at first and is still a bit shit but it’s gotten better. signs that shit DRAGON. why not. (he's not original at all)

#c23intro #about.

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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Change of Heart ( Taehyungx OC)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Summary : Times are changing. After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all….. He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first.

: Pairing : Taehyung x OC / Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content.

Warnings : story gets a little serious from now on out... there's a lot of sexism, misogyny, degradation of women , and well morally untoward actions by people ......the oc gets roped into something exploitative and wrong. She is consenting but she's also pressured. So , please remember that this is just fiction.

Chapter 8

“Rae, calm down... i didn’t mean i want you to leave right now..” Taehyung gripped both my wrists with his hands , tugging me away from my things . When I didn’t move, he gave me a gentle nudge toward to bed, prompting me to sit down.

“You’re just-” I began angrily but he cut me off.

“Just sit down for a second and we can talk about this.” He begged, grip gentle as he held my hands . I tried to pull my hands away but he merely linked our fingers together, squeezing gently.

I glared at him but sat down nonetheless. He stared down at me for a second before carefully, kneeling down in front of me.

My throat went dry at that. I doubted Kim Taehyung had ever kneeled , anywhere, in his entire life.

“I’m sorry, Rae. “ He whispered, thumb tracing circles on the back of my palm. “ I was out of line talking to you like that. I would like to think, after everything we’ve been through, we’re at least friends.”

Someone put me out of my misery, I closed my eyes in dejection.

“Please don’t give me a , ‘ we’re better off as friends’ speech... Please, I absolutely cannot handle that from you right now.” I whispered.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that I was out of my head when I came here just now, things were going south in the office and I was stressed out.... I swear I didn’t come here intending to talk to you about Eun Woo..... I came here to check up on you.....I just, I saw you with Jungkook and then you told me you were going to leave with him and I panicked and told you about Eun Woo. I’m sorry and I know I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. Not now, when you’re clearly still hurting.”

I stared at him.

“You know just the right things to say, don’t you?” I shook my head.

Taehyung made a noise of impatience, scooting forward on his knees and his hands dropping to grip my waist through the thick towel wrapped around me. Suddenly aware of being just in my towel, I stopped breathing when he pressed closer, kissing the edge of my jaw.

“I wasn’t trying to manipulate you into sleeping with me. Trust me...when I was talking to Seokjin about not wanting to mate you... I didn’t mean that I didn’t want you because I wasn’t attracted to you....I meant that I didn’t want to forcefully bring you into a world that is going to be cruel to you.”

“I don’t know if I can believe anything you tell me anymore.” I said softly and his arms came around me, tugging me closer till he pressed his face into the curve of my breasts.

“I’m not just anybody, Rae....You know that. Being with me isn’t the same as being anyone on the street. I.. I’m a public figure. Someone who has made his disdain for humans pretty clear.... “ He pulled back to stare at me. He looked devastated and I felt my heart lurch treacherously again . He pressed another kiss, this time to my lips, before drawing back.

“I know I hurt you.....but my cause is bigger than me, than anything I could want or desire. There are people out there...my people... people who have spent hundreds of years being punished for something they can’t control. And until , I o my part , until I use my wealth and power to bring some change in their lives, I don’t belong to myself.” He looked haggard , pressing his palms to his face, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes and I couldn’t harden my heart against the pang of sympathy that bloomed inside me.

“I’ve never asked you to give up on your cause. Isn’t that the whole reason i came with you last night?” I reminded him and he nodded.

“Yes...and look how that left you. “ He shook his head, “ I wasn’t even rough , Rae. I felt like a bull in a fucking china shop, touching you. So scared of breaking something, so fucking terrified I was going to hurt you ....It drove me fucking crazy...”

I stared at him in disbelief , reaching out and cupping his cheeks, forcing him to stare at me. .

“ Stop that. You did not hurt me. I’m not as fragile as you think... You’re hardly the first alpha wolf I’ve had sex with...” I said sharply and he groaned.

“I know... Fuck, I know that... It’s just....My instincts get so jumbled with you. I want to make love to you, to make you feel good …But I also want to protect you and keep you safe and it feels like i can’t do both...”

“You and I...we aren’t that different. What feels good for you feels good for me too...” I protested.

Taehyung gave me a helpless look.

“I was raised this way. I haven’t ever seen my friends and family treat humans with anything but wariness and fear. My family ..... My father and mother, they ....” He hesitated. “ They turned a five year old human child, because she was dying. She was dying and her mother begged them to save their daughter. My dad gave her the bite ..... The girl survived and she was a wolf, yes but she lived. Do you know what your kind did? They said what he did was illegal , and they put my dad on trial and sent my parents to prison for it. “

I stared at him, wide eyed.

“My parents didn’t last a month. They died in a fucking dungeon because humans think its better for a five year old girl to die than be one of us. I lost my parents when I was eight years old because humans cannot fathom the idea of someone being different.....”

“Taehyung, I am so sorry... i didn’t know..... “ I said quietly.

“I’m not saying that has anything to do with you. I’m not ignorant enough to blame every human I meet for something that happened a whole two decades ago. I know things have changed....that the world today is vastly different from how it was back then... but can you imagine what would happen if I started this thing with you? “ He sighed, shaking his head.

“Taehyung, what are you saying?” I asked , too tired to process what he was saying. I could feel a headache coming on, strong and almost debilitating in its intensity .

“ I like you.... I would love to get to know you better.... Watching you with my daughter...fuck... I’ve never seen her so happy..... I would like nothing more than to give her a family.... but the people I live with. The friends I meet for dinners, the guys I hang out with for drinks....they don’t trust humans. They’re powerful men who have seen first hand how cruel humans can be and they’re not going to give up years of conditioning, just because my wolf chose to imprint on a human.”

I stared at him, not even sure what to say.

“Taehyung, I haven’t hidden how I feel about you. I’m not ignorant about what its like between your kind and mine. I live in the preserve. You think I don’t know what it’s like to be a human in a community of werwolves? I know how people look at me, how they see humans in general. If we did this....I would never blame you for the way others treat me.” I told him, heart breaking because he had clearly thought about this. Thought about this enough for him to feel bad about the mere possibility of me being hurt.

Taehyung shook his head in protest.

“How do you think I would feel, if I had to watch my friends treat you with anything but respect? It would drive me insane. And if you think the werewolves in the preserve are cruel to humans, you don’t even know how bad the upper class weres are... They don’t see human women as anything but a sick fetish for them to indulge themselves in. I’m not going to bring you into a world like that.....” He gave me look that was steady and unyielding, his tone brooking no argument.

I sighed.

“Okay. “ I said softly.

He stared at me.

“Do you hate me?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I think we can safely establish that I am incapable of hating you.” I said tiredly.

He smiled. I hesitated just a bit, before reaching out to touch his shoulders. I curled my fingers a bit, tugging him closer for a hug and he indulged me, palms stroking my back as I breathed in the alluring scent of him.

“ When this is over.... “ Taehyung said softly, “ I hope you and i could get dinner together. I want you in my life... even if just as a friend.”

Isn’t that just the perfect recipe for disaster, I thought miserably.

“I’m not going to be your friend, Kim Taehyung ssi.... I don’t hate myself that much.” I pressed a kiss to his ear.

He hesitated.

“What do you want to be then?” He whispered.

I shrugged, pulling back to stare at him.

There really was no point talking in circles, was there?

“The woman you love.” I said , holding his gaze steadily.

His lips parted, clearly unprepared for my bluntness.

To spare him the embarrassment of replying, I went on.

“But i know that’s not in the cards...so i would rather we be passing acquaintances.” I shrugged.

Taehyung gripped my knees, squeezing.

“I’ve not been with a woman in years. My wife, “ He grimaced , a flash of hurt and betrayal in his eyes, “ She... I didn’t even like her let alone care for her. I’ve forgotten what It means to love a woman...to worry about how my actions affect her...to act in a way that makes her feel how much I care for her.....”

I bit my lips, not sure what he was implying or if he was even implying anything.

" Well then, once my dad goes to prison... You can go back to that blissful time in your life when you didn’t know that I existed. .”

I grabbed my clothes off the bed and made to move to the bathroom

.“Rae.... wait.”

I stopped, staring at him.

I felt his fingers on my wrist, tugging me gently and I watched the way his fingers looked, so large and warm over mine.

I could feel him staring at me but .I stayed quiet.

There really was nothing more for me to say to him.

“I’ve forgotten how to love a woman but...” He bit his lips.” It doesn’t mean I can’t learn again.”

I choked out a laugh. God, I hated him.

“Don’t you dare-”

“When this is over.” He continued firmly, “ When your father is in prison, I’m not going to walk away. I don’t understand humans, I don’t relate to your kind....I can’t feel the things you do but I can learn. I can and I will. After everything you’ve done for me, it’s the least i can do for you. ”

I shook my head.

“ Do it for yourself. Do it to be a better person. Because sometimes the greater good isn’t enough to justify hurting people who are on your side of the battlefield. “

He lowered his head and I pulled away gently, moving away to get dressed,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is he going to come pick me up? “ I asked casually, swallowing down another couple of pills. I wasn’t even in a lot of pain anymore. More a pleasant soreness all over .

Taehyung exhaled, nodding.

“He’s ...a good guy but I still want you to tell me if he tries something....”

I turned to stare at him, eyebrows raised.

“And what will you do? Antagonize the man who’s your only hope to bring my father down? Don’t be absurd Taehyung.. i can handle men like Eun Woo.” I turned back to the mirror.

I ran the brush through my hair, carefully examining my face for any stray marks or bruises. It had taken a bit of time an an extra layer of concealer but i looked relatively unmarred.

“I just want to make sure you’re safe and-”

“I can take care of myself.... I’m a big girl.” I smiled at him through the reflection in the mirror. .

Although, just the fact that I was here, having this conversation with him was a fine example of how bad I was at taking care of myself. How I had a knack for making the worst possible choices, the kind of choices that ended with me with my heart broken over and over again because of the same damn man.

God, I wanted to get out of this apartment. Wanted to get away from Kim Taehyung. Never wanted to see his gorgeous face again.

“Eun Woo knows you’re my mate... He won’t....”

My eyes snapped up to him.

Just hearing that word made something leap inside me, something sharp and hurtful. Something that felt unbearable, an emotion that made me pulse with regret and pain and filled me with a need to sob out loud.

i turned around and his eyes immediately flitted to mine. I knew they were a little damp.

“Can you just...not call me that? “ I whispered , my fingers beginning to tremble.

Taehyung froze, staring at me with wide eyes.

“Rae...”

i closed my eyes , breathing deeply. I’d never felt so frustrated, so desperate to end things with someone and yet so incapable of doing just that and i hated him, hated him for turning me into something so pathetic.

“Don’t call me your mate. That is not what I am and that is not how you see me. So just don’t. “

I tried to calm myself down.

Taehyung didn’t reply so I went on.

“I’m going to do this...not just for you , but for the people in that preserve. For Luna because I want her to grow up in a world where she has the chance to experience the same happiness that the rest of us do. “

“Yes, And I’m grateful..” Taehyung began but i held my hand up.

“I’m going to do this but I’m not going to give you more than what I absolutely have to. I’m not going to let you play the besotted lover when we both know there’s no future for us that way. I need to protect my heart and I can’t do that if you keep confusing me. And that means you talk to me like you would talk to any of your friends. ”

Taehyung just stared at me for a second before nodding sharply.

“Point taken.” He said gruffly , looking just a little annoyed..

Good, I thought viciously.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re gonna have to get you more clothes like this, if we’re going to be together for real... ... You know the kind of life I lead...” Eun Woo commented mildly, shooting me a glance as he maneuvered the car out into traffic. He was pointing at the teal blue sheath dress I had on.

It was pretty, spaghetti straps holding up the satiny material and molding to my body like a second skin. Taehyung had rented it out for me, and it had given me some satisfaction, watching him go slack jawed when I put it on. I was half tempted to tell him that I had won a lot of beauty pageants at my dad’s Country Club , back when I had still lived with him as a teenager.

Over the years, I’d always dressed down, avoided make up and just not bothered too much. not because I didn’t enjoy dressing up but because it served no purpose. . Running up and down the ferry meant a lot of salty air on my hair and face and so, I had probably always looked like a drowned rat to Taehyung.

“I have a whole closet full of branded clothes at my brother’s apartment. You don’t have to worry about me embarrassing you in public. I grew up as Jae hyun’s daughter .I know how the bougie class dresses, so please, just drive .” I was so tired, my eyes swollen although I hadn’t even cried. My heart felt like it had been wrung out .

Eun Woo whistled.

“So you’re.... technically rich. Very rich.” There was a hint of interest there, laced with barely concerned excitement and it made my skin crawl.

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m rich if i do exactly what my father asks me to. Which I won’t.”

Eun Woo chuckled.

“So...this thing with Taehyung...it’s nothing huh? I mean, he’s clearly okay with you doing stuff with me.....”

I glared at him.

“The only thing we’re going to be doing is finding out what my father’s upto.”

He held both his hands up .

“Hey, I’m just wondering if he’ll tear my throat off if I shoot my shot.”

I sighed, too exhausted to even entertain this conversation.

“Don’t make this difficult.” I said tiredly and he grunted.

“He did a number on you last night, huh?” the lecherous glance he tossed my way was nauseating.

I didn’t reply.

“Thought you were used to werewolves though...could smell that wolf on you...in the preserve.,.. Jungkook was it?”

I closed my eyes .

Eun Woo looked handsome and elegant in his pin striped white suit and perfectly polished shoes but there was no mistaking the sheer unadulterated lust on his face when he looked at me. And the way he talked to me, like I was a hooker he had hired for the night. I suddenly understood what Taehyung had meant, when he said that wolves only looked at human women as a fetish.

I glanced at my phone. It was a little past five. My father generally spent his evenings in his Yacht club, lounging about with his friends and scantily clad women. Eun Woo was a member too and the idea was to casually run into my father there.

“I’m just saying...you have a thing for wolves...I’ll be more than willing to scratch that itch for you....” He was leering now and I willed myself not to scream when his fingers reached out, lightly stroking my cheek. I pulled away, bile rising in my throat.

Feeling cheap and dirty, I dug my fingers into my thighs.

“Thank you for the kind offer. I’ll let you know if I ever want to take you up on that.” I muttered.

I watched as he pulled into the Yacht Club.

The Marina Yacht club was my father’s castle. It was where he held court thrice a week, all his rich and powerful bosom buddies flooding the place to get and stay in his good graces.

Wine, Women, drugs and alcohol all topped with a healthy dose of anonymity and discretion. I stepped out into the lobby, surprised when a man called out my name.

“Mi Rae?? Is that you?”

I felt my eyes widen when I recognized my dad’s old butler.

“Mr. Gwan... Oh, I didn’t know you worked here?” I smiled despite myself, happily letting his wrap his hands around me in a warm hug.

“Your father has been so kind to me.... He misses you.” The old man said softly.

I managed to return the gesture, bowing lightly.

“Is he here?”

“Out on the back terrace. A lot of his friends are here today.... Would you like to meet him?”

I nodded.

“Certainly. Could you tell him I’m here with ... Mr. Cha Eun Woo?” I smiled and looped my arm around Eun Woo’s , the latter pulling out his membership card and handing it over to Mr. Gwan with a winning smile.

Mr Gwan bowed, leading us into the foyer which was milling with Seoul’s elite, men in polo t shirts and fitted pants and women in short summer dresses or flowery jumpsuits with huge hats. The crème de la crème of society, I thought , rolling my eyes internally.

“Stop looking like that, doll. “ Eun Woo’s lips brushed my ear and I straightened my features, pasting a small smile as we followed Mr. Gwan, past the milling crowd and to the back, where the club opened into a beautiful terrace with a pool and a dance floor.

Women in skimpy bikinis' lounged around the pool despite the lateness of the hour and I saw my father, surrounded by four or five men, relaxing in the lounge chairs near the pool. They were all old and fat, my father standing out because he was always particular about staying fit and looking ten whole years younger.

He looked surprised when he saw me, surprised but clearly pleased.

“Mirae..... And Eun Woo? What an absolute pleasure.” He stood p quickly, eyes glinting with delight when he took in my attire.

“Good evening father.” I smiled, letting him pull me into a hug. My father turned to the men around, all of whom made no attempt to hide the way they were ogling me.

“Gentlemen, my beautiful daughter, Mirae. And the man she’s seeing currently, I believe you’re all familiar with him. One of the finest men in the country. ”

I tilted my head in acknowledgement, bowing lightly while Eun Woo shook hands with the men.

“Cha Eun Woo at your service.” He drawled easily, holding a couple of fingers up and signalling a waiter to bring a couple more chairs for us. I smiled as he gave me a soft kiss on my cheeks.

“Why don’t we head over to the bar and you can pick a drink, honey?” He said , smile dazzling in its intensity.

I fluttered my lashes for effect.

“I’d love that.” I said , letting him lead me away with a quick, “ Gentlemen, a moment.”

“That’s Taehyung’s undersecretary . The rest of them i can’t recognize but they’re all wolves. Your father’s been particularly sneaky, i see....” He whispered thoughtfully , the moment we were out of hearing distance and I blinked.

“What?”

“That guy in the blue trunks, he’s a part of Taehyung’s cabinet. I’m sure of it.”

The bartender tapped the counter to get our attention and I startled.

I pointed vaguely at one of the drinks and turned back to Eun Woo.

“Really? Oh my God, do you think he’s been telling my father about Taehyung’s plans?”

Eun Woo nodded.

“That would explain things.... “

“We should tell Taehyung , he needs to fire that guy...” i said desperately and Eun Woo shook his head.

“No... we need to find out what is it that these wolves wants from your father... They’re obviously feeding him information for a price. We need to know what, although I think i have a pretty good idea.” Eun Woo smirked.

“What?” I said, curious but he shook his head, lightly kissing the tip of my nose.

“Its a wolf thing... I’m just going to go back and lay some groundwork. You wearing a bikini underneath that dress?”

I frowned.

“Yes? Why?”

“Go to the dressing room and take your dress off. Come back and sit on my lap yeah? “

I stared at him.

“This better have something to do with ...”

“Baby, we’re running low on time. Just do as I tell you and you can be back in your TaeTae oppa’s arms in no time.....” He drawled, squeezing my hips hard and I flinched.

He was so annoying.

But I did as he said and when I walked back to the rest of them, I saw that he was sitting a little ways off from the rest of them but close to the man in the blue trunks. The crowd had left, the gate leading to the terrace was closed and my father was nowhere to be found.

it was just Eun Woo and the four men and the four or five women still in the pool.. They all looked at me when I got near and Eun Woo stood up waving before sitting back down.

“Ah...Rae... Come on over!” He waved and I walked over, feeling ridiculously exposed in the electric blue string tied bikini.

I smiled at him, casually sitting down on his lap, and letting him wrap an arm around my torso. He pressed a kiss to my cheek, my jaw and then whispered against my ear.

“Let’s give them a show.”

I blinked, confused and then he pulled me closer, tugging me around till I was straddling him. I gripped his shoulders at the obscene position we were in , but he looked incredibly serious as he gave me a slight nod. Smiling, I lightly rolled my hips , letting the crotch of my bikini trace a small circle against the front of his slacks. He had taken off his jacket and it wasn’t that hard to get into the mood. The idiot was beautiful after all.

“needy little thing....” Eun Woo chuckled. “ Dated a couple of betas but it wasn’t enough for her...Right baby?”

I gave him a shy little smile, watching the men out of the corner of eyes. I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing but, i followed Eun Woo’s lead and moved when he tugged on my hips, buried my nose in his neck when his palms fluttered against my shoulder.

“Sometimes they need a knot.... can’t settle for anything less....” Eun Woo went on, laughing and i stiffened despite myself. He pinched my thigh lightly, a soft, ‘ focus’ hissed against my ear.

I swallowed, staying still.

He lightly dipped one finger into the waistline of my bikini and i jumped.

“There’s something exciting about fucking a human .... so helpless and fragile and yet so thirsty to get dicked down by an animal.” Eun Woo went on and the men chuckled.

I tamped down on the urge to knee him in the crotch.

The greater good.

the greater fucking good. I reminded myself.

i was going to strangle Kim Taehyung.

“ Knows when to keep her mouth shut too. It’s a rarity with human women...... Always yip tapping about shit. “ Eun Woo went on.

“She looks amazing...” The man on the left said...

“She looks even better when I have her wrapped around my knot.” Eun Woo chuckled.

The air seemed to shift around me.

“Uh...yeah?” One of the men said.

“Of course....gets off on it too... People watching...right baby..? I could make you take my knot, right here on this chair with all these people watching and you’d love it...wouldn’t you baby?”

“Fuck, that would be so hot...” The man in the blue trunks whined next to me and it made my skin crawl. I couldn’t do this. Not even for Kim fucking Taehyung.

I dug my nails into Eun Woo’s sides. I’d had enough.

“I have a resort up the Han River.... Secluded and private. Mr Yoon told me you guys have some sort of deal to finish up? Why not schedule it at my place.... Dinner and a show” Eun Woo squeezed my thighs hard making me yelp, “ My treat.”

The men whispered excitedly.

“That sounds good. The seventeenth of this month. We have a ... meeting with a few associates. We’d require a lot of privacy . “

Eun woo hummed.

“Done. And sweet Rae and I will be there to take care of the entertainment . Now if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I have a few more pressing engagements.”

He spanked my thigh and I sat up, slowly climbing off him. He wrapped his arm around my waist , and I looked anywhere but at the men, bowing awkwardly as I let him lead me away from the terrace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ow...Ow... Ow.. What the fuck..stop!” Eun Woo grabbed my wrists stopping me from raining more punches on him.

“That was so fucking embarrassing you fucking pervert!!” I hissed and he gripped my wrists harder, so hard that I winced.

“I know!!! just calm the fuck down. At least we know when they’re meeting the damn dealers. And it’ll be on our turf. “ He said angrily.

I glared at him.

“So what , the cops can just walk in and arrest them...??” I stared at him in disbelief.

it seemed so easy.

“If they’re caught with the drug, yeah.” Eun Woo shrugged, “ Taehyung already has plenty of evidence linking your father to the drug,....all he needs is the physical record of your father in contact with the dealers. And if your father’s there on seventeenth its going to be a walk in the park. All we need to do is...well... possibly fuck in front of them.”

I felt my jaw drop.

“I am not fucking you... not even if the survival of the entire human race depended on it.” I hissed.

“Relax, babe... It doesn’t have to be all the way through... beta werewolves don’t have a knot so these bastards get turned on watching alphas knot a woman... that's all it is... We give them that and they’re gonna play right into our hands.....” Eun Woo shrugged.

“That is so gross...” I fought the urge to retch.

“ We also feed some sort of nonsense to that undersecretary of his.. maybe a false raid elsewhere so these idiots have their guard down. it’ll be easy. “ Eun Woo shrugged

I groaned.

But I had to admit that Taehyung was right. Cha Eun Woo was a smart bastard.

“And that's the best way to do this? I need to... pretend to have sex with you...” I tasted bile in my throat.

Eun woo smiled.

“For the greater good , baby.”

i groaned.

I hated werewolves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Shit’s about to go down in the next chapter !! lemme know what you guys thought :D

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#taehyung smut #taehyung fics #taehyung werewolf au #bts werewolf au #bts smut #bts fics #bts au #taehyung fanfic #taehyung au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction

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alittlegiraffe · 3 years

Note

Colin Farrell x reader, enemies to lovers. They’re in a movie together and their characters are sworn enemies, but irl they slowly fall in love with each other :)

Sorry if this isn't what you wanted, it's the inspiration I got.

On the Eve of a Wedding

"You're a sonuvabitch you know that," you declared violently with a well placed slap across your costar's ridiculously handsome face.

A single lock of his hair fell in his eyes, causing both of you to devolve into giggles. You were working on hour 12 of shooting and everything was high energy. The director cut the scene then.

"Alright. Everyone is too tired, pack it up. Call time is 8:30 tomorrow night! Andrea and Tom's wedding scene will be shot then so everyone bring your funeral face," behind his back Colin pulled a face towards you. You struggled to stifle your giggles as he led you away from the set, arm slung lazily around your shoulders.

"Scrabble and Chinese?" He asked knowingly. You'd spent months on location, and since almost all your scenes were together you'd bonded. It was nice to have a friend so far away from home, and since neither of you travelled with an entourage it made sense. You'd developed a rhythm to decompress after intense days and it was honestly one of your favorite parts of this movie.

"Always," you smiles as you made the way to his trailer. If you were honest you'd do anything for more time with him, it was obvious to you that you were falling for this man. It was a slow process that started with friendship, but as much as your characters loathed one another you'd been forced together so much that you had no choice but to become fast friends.

"Good because it should be here any minute," he smirked. God he was beautiful.

"Awfully presumptuous Mr. Farrell, and on this the eve of my wedding," you said with a playful dove of your elbow, before stepping inside the trailer and making yourself comfortable. As you did that an assistant dropped off your food.

"Ah, but you forget tomorrow is also my wedding, and I must get my beauty rest." He played along, you loved how he just went with whatever goofy banter you created.

"Too bad you're marrying a bitch because your dad is trying to take over an arms snuggling ring, and I'm marrying a mobster against my will because my dad owes the mob so much money," you sighed heavily. You were enjoying your favorite fried rice as you playfully bantered

"Yeah, maybe we should have an affair. Just play dirty," you laughed heartily at that. You set the food aside, hoping to enjoy it as you played as well.

"Let's do it, that'll show 'em," you winked playfully, suddenly acutely aware of how close you stood to him. The way his old spice deodorant permeated the room, the way he was just tall enough that you could reach up on your toes to kiss him without issue if you were both standing. The way his body heat was caressing you as he busied his hands setting up the game.

When he turned to look at you it was like you couldn't control yourself, your eyes locked with his and you found yourself kissing his perfect lips without any input from your brain. Colin didn't seem to mind as one hand cupped your neck, while the other pulled you so you were straddling his thighs. You may have started the kiss, but he had control. His tongue dominated yours as occasional nips to your lip peppered the kiss. Your body was slowly igniting as your felt yourself falling into him.

Still you pulled away as your brain slowly reattached, "I-I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that." You studdered out, as your tried to dismount. The hand on your hip held you there though.

"Don't be," just like that you found your lips fused together again. This time slower, less frantic. It was the contrast between fucking and making love. The line was there, but ever so thin.

"Colin," you started as you broke for air. "I need you to know, before anything else happens, that I've.... Well I've developed feelings for you. I can't start this lying about that."

Your confession hung in the air for a heartbeat before Colin smiled, "You know I'm not one for playing games love. I wouldn't have kissed you again if I didn't think this could go somewhere." You smiled brightly at his words.

"That's good to hear," you admitted. "Because I don't think I've felt like this before."

His lips found yours again, and you felt a new urgency in him. A bulge forming under you, made you aware of just how desperate you'd become. You ground your hips into his growing erection. It wasn't long before he picked you up, leaving your lips fused, and walked you to the bed at the back of the trailer. He followed you down and peppered you with kisses.

"Is this okay?" His voice was rae with desire, and you barely understood what was being asked so consumed by your own. You nodded as you frantically pulled his face back to yours.

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

Three years later

You smiled as you stood in front of a heavy wooden door with your dad. You'd never felt more beautiful as you walked down the aisle to the man of your dreams. A movie set and scrabble had given you your entire world, and you'd never been more pleased. You knew you'd walk down, marry the love of your life, head to a party full of friends and family. Then tonight in your hotel room you'd give Colin the little plastic stick in your carry on. Then the next phase would start.

Preparing to welcome your baby.

#Colin Farrell #Colin Farrell x Reader #rpf #fanfiction #actor rpf #actor au #fake movie #forced marriage #i dunno it was a plot for their movie 🤷‍♀️😜

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agustdakasuga · 4 years

Text

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 8

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

This is your first time. The first time you see your 7 employers in action, the first time you see them as who they say they are.

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

Chapter warning(s): Mentions of violence, blood and fighting.

Humming a soft tune, you tucked your hands into the pockets of your lab coat as you walked. It was another boring day with the boys being out and now, it was time to head to bed.You yawned and stretched your arms but was interrupted by a loud bang.

“DOCTOR!”

“(y/n)!” Shouts made you run down the stairs. You ran to the sealed off wing of the house, the ‘business’ wing as you would call it. There, you saw Namjoon carrying an unconscious Hoseok.

“Get me my emergency kit in the office.” You turned to a butler, making him run off. As Namjoon placed him down, you began to inspect his body.

“Blow to the back of his head. The rest seem superficial.” The butler placed your first aid kit down.

“Hobi? Can you hear me?” You clipped a blood pressure monitor to his finger and used your stethoscope to check him internally. The rest of the boys walked in, seemingly unharmed. Or at least, less gravely injured than Hoseok was.

“Is Hoseok hyung okay?” Jimin gave a small smile.

“Seems like a concussion.” You said. Jungkook came over to help you carrying Hoseok up to your office.

“Thanks.” You patted the maknae’s shoulder before he left. You hooked Hoseok’s up to an acetaminophen infusion with magnesium to help with pain since normal painkillers may cause him more internal bleeding. After that, you checked his head injury. Luckily, there wasn’t a need for stitches. You cleaned the blood off the wound and bandaged his head.

“You’re okay.” You whispered, patting his forearm as you cleaned the rest of his superficial wounds and bruises.

“I’ll be back, Hobi.” You took the rest of your things and went out to help the rest of the boys. Of course, you found them by the bar, having drinks. When you entered, everyone stared at you.

“He’s alive. Resting.” You said first before sitting down on a bar stool, laying out the wound cleaning equipment.

“Get in line.” You waved them over.

“We don’t-”

“Get. In. Line. Do I have to repeat myself?” You raised an eyebrow at Taehyung. He pursed his lips, looking away. One by one, the boys stepped up for you to clean their wounds.

“Hobi got hit the worst.” Jin said. You nodded, inspecting each of them. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be any internal injuries.

“You better not have any wounds for me to clean, Min Yoongi." You said, cleaning Jungkook’s knuckles.

“Don’t worry, I was playing games on the sofa.” Yoongi rolled his eyes, showing you his phone screen, where his current game was ongoing. Even if Yoongi didn’t have to wear his sling anymore, he was still on a ‘no beating up people’ work order by his doctor, you.

“Good.” You huffed.

“Is this enough action for you?” Namjoon chuckled.

“Yes, Namjoon. How kind of you to do this. The highlight of my otherwise, very boring day.” You rolled your eyes with a smile. You cleaned the cut over his eyebrow and placed the gauze down.

“Each of you take this.”

“What’s this??” Jin asked but still took one of the white pills from your plastic medicine cup. Everyone took one except for Yoongi.

“A little something so tomorrow won’t be a b*tch. It’ll also help all of you sleep better tonight.” You turned around to clear the bar counter of all the bloodied cotton.

“To be taken with water.” You said with a clear of your throat, still focusing on your things. There was the sound of glasses being placed down on the table before water was poured out from the pitcher. Trust them to try and take their medicine with alcohol. You threw all the rubbish away and placed all the leftovers in your pockets.

“Get to bed. Now. I’ll stay with Hobi tonight. Call me if you’re dying.” You ordered them and slid off the chair to stand. They watched you reach behind the counter and pour a glass of scotch whiskey.

“Since you didn’t take the pill. This shall help you sleep.” You placed the glass in Yoongi’s hand and walked back to your office.

“I’m back.” You announced, entering your office and checking on Hoseok.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“How’s he?” Someone poked his head.

“I thought I made it clear that all of you were to head to bed?” You chuckled, tucking Hoseok in under the blanket and going to sit on your chair. The male by the door laughed.

“Would you let me stay up if I have hot cocoa?” He raised an eyebrow. You threw your head back in laughter, waving at him to come in. Just like the other night, he placed the tray down and handed you a mug before taking one for himself and sitting down.

“How are you? Too hectic?” He asked.

“Nah, it’s okay. Believe it or not, being forced to intern at the emergency ward of hospitals is a lot worse than this. No downtime at all.” You shrugged.

“I would imagine. We used to go to hospitals. But even the most private, exclusive ones ask too many questions. That’s why we decided to have a private doctor here instead.” He explained.

“What happened to Hobi?” You asked.

“A deal gone wrong. The people from our world don’t exactly know what patience is, especially the young ones.” He looked over at Hoseok.

“Immature.” You crossed your arms.

“Oh, you’ll be surprised at just how immature a lot of them can be. But I guess, that’s how gang wars start.” He smirked. You nodded your head. As adventurous as you were, being caught in a gang/ mafia war was not something you wanted to experience in the next few years of your life. You were perfectly fine with cleaning the cuts that they caused.

“I’m going to head to bed.” He stood up once the hot cocoas were done. You nodded, placing your empty mug on the tray.

“Goodnight.” You wished softly.

“Goodnight, (y/n). Thanks for letting me stay up past my bedtime.” He gave a soft smile as he opened the door. But before he left, he called out to you one more time, making you lift your head.

“Don’t... go to the other wing tomorrow, okay?” He turned his head slightly.

“Okay.” You nodded and with another small smile, he left your office. You sighed, sliding down in your chair.

It was about 5 am when Hoseok finally stirred awake. You were used to pulling all nighters from times at the hospital and with your previous clients that you weren’t even tired.

“W-Where am I?” He frowned slightly. You helped him sit up, pouring him a glass of water.

“You’re in my office. Firstly, can you tell me your name and date of birth? And then, tell me if you know who I am.” You asked softly. His eyebrows furrowed for a while.

“Jung Hoseok. Birthday is on 18th of February. You are Dr (y/n). The doctor that is working with our family and taking care of Yoongi hyung’s shoulder.” He said. You nodded your head in approval. Hoseok reached up to touch the thick bandage around his head.

“Do you know what happened? I only remember some guy knocking me out.” He asked.

“Well, I don’t know what happened exactly but Namjoon ran into the house with you in his arms. Then Jungkook brought you in here and you’ve been unconscious since. How’s the pain?” You asked.

“A dull ache.” He groaned.

“The concussion doesn’t seem too bad. But you should rest more, you can sleep here. Considering you can drink that water without wanting to throw up, I’ll remove your IV and give you some oral painkillers in a few hours.” You said, receiving the empty glass from him. Taking a pair of gloves and a bandaid out, you remove the IV needle from Hoseok’s arm.

“There.” You taped the bandaid over the puncture hole and got rid of your gloves, the needle and empty IV bag.

“How’s the rest?”

“All superficial injuries. You seemed to have gotten the brunt of the attack.” You said as you washed your hands. He nodded his head slowly, picking at the bandage around his forearm.

“Stop that.” You hit his hand and he recoiled with a pout.

“Mean.” He commented.

“Go to bed.” You sat back down by your desk.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” He asked. You shrugged, typing on your computer. To refresh your knowledge, you would go through some old case files you had from time to time. Also, you felt that it was time to study up on proper treatment for bullet wounds and stabbing injuries.

“You should sleep.” Hoseok said.

“You should sleep.” You snorted, opening your notepad to scribble something down. Even with your constant typing, Hoseok was able to fall asleep rather quickly, letting out soft snores.

When Hoseok woke up, he saw that you fell asleep by your desk, your head bobbing up and down uncomfortably, hands still on your keyboard.

“I told you that you should sleep.” He chuckled with a shake of his head. Hoseok left the office.

“JK, come help me.” Hoseok called.

“Oh, hyung. You’re awake. What’s up?” The maknae immediately stood up. Hoseok brought him to the office and pointed at your sleeping figure. Jungkook realised what his brother was trying to do and nodded.

“She fell asleep taking care of me last night. I would carry her myself but I’m still a little dizzy. I don’t want to risk dropping her.” Hoseok whispered. Jungkook softly walked to you, slipping his arms under you and hoisting you up. You didn’t move but instead, snuggled into the warmth of Jungkook’s chest. He chuckled at your actions.

“You should go rest some more, hyung.” Jungkook walked upstairs. Hoseok let out a hum.

“I gotta go for the meeting though. Just bring her upstairs and tuck her in before she wakes up and kills both of us.” Hoseok sighed, patting the youngest on the shoulder and jogging off.

“Aish, hyung. She’ll kill you for working when you’re supposed to be resting. Jungkook shook his head and opened your room door.

“Hi, Kookie.” He whispered and placed you on the bed. You let out a small whine at the loss of warmth but was pacified by Jungkook draping your blanket over you. You cuddled your pillow, sleeping peacefully.

“Let’s go, Kookie.” Jungkook opened the cage. Casting your sleeping form one last glance, Jungkook walked out with your bunny in his arms, closing the door softly behind him. He went down to finish his breakfast on the couch, Kookie hopping around beside him.

“Here.” Jungkook experimentally held out an apple slice to Kookie. Kookie sniffed it with a wiggle of his nose before nibbling.

Your eyes opened and you reached a hand out to feel your pillow. That made you sit up. Looking around, you realised that you were in your room. You didn’t even remember when you fell asleep.

“Hoseok...” You slipped out of bed. Kookie’s cage was left open with the bunny missing. Stretching your arms, you went back to your office to find the bed empty. After that, you navigated through the house to find his bedroom.

“Hoseok? Are you in there?” You knocked on it for several minutes but there was no reply.

“Doctor.” A passing butler noticed you.

“Hey. I was looking for Hoseok. Do you know where he is?” You asked, tucking your hands into the pockets of your coat.

“The young masters are all attending a meeting in the other wing now. Young master Hoseok was seen with them. Young master Jungkook left Kookie in the living room with us.” He informed with a bow. You frowned, chewing your bottom lip. Hoseok knew he should be resting. Even if it was minor, he still suffered a concussion.

“But doc-”

“Thanks.” You gave a backwards wave, already on your way to the other wing. When you entered the foyer, it was eerily quiet. You were going to walk around when you heard a loud bang.

“No, stop!” You heard screams.

“You already know the consequences of causing a ruckus. Now we have your sh*t to clean.” Jin’s voice was clearly heard.

“V?” You heard Namjoon now. Jungkook came out, dragging two people across the floor by the back of their collars. The two grunted and struggled. And following close behind them was Taehyung, with a metal bat resting on his shoulder. He chuckled.

“Brace yourself.” He smirked.

“Wait! We were only asked to do it, we’re not involved in this!” One of the men struggled in Jungkook’s grip.

“You three were already involved the moment you accepted the money.” Jimin giggled, throwing another male to the ground. Yoongi just stood at the side, stoic, with his arms crossed.

“Now, you get to watch your men suffer because of your selfishness.” Namjoon said to the first guy. He nodded at Taehyung, who stepped up.

“No!” Taehyung swung the bat, beating down on the male. Everything suddenly went silent. There was a ringing in your ears and all you could see was the metal constantly swinging up and down. The smell of blood filled the air, making a lump form in your throat and you stomach bubble uncomfortably. It wasn’t stopping soon.

“Me too.” Jimin smirked, stabbing the male he threw down earlier. He stood over the thrashing stranger, the knife constantly being brought down on his chest.

“See? That was all you.” Jin raised an eyebrow.

“Here.” Yoongi tossed Hoseok a gun. Hoseok stepped forward, his confidence giving a facade that you couldn’t even tell he was injured the night before.

“Bye~” Hoseok waved before pressing the barrel of the gun right between his eyebrows. There was a sickening bang, as blood splattered out of the back of the dead man’s head.

“That’s enough, Tae.” Namjoon called out. At that, Taehyung stopped, stepping away from the male, who was at this point, unrecognisable. He stopped up straight, the bloodied bat in his hand. He used his sleeve to wipe the blood that managed to splatter on his cheek. That was when he met eyes with you.

“D-D...” His eyes widened. The others were puzzled at what he was stunned by. They looked up and saw you.

“(y/n).” That’s when your legs were finally working again. You took off, running away. You threw the doors opened and ran as fast as you could, not caring that your lungs burned.

“(y/n)! Wait!” You heard them calling out to you. Finally, you reached your room. You made a beeline for your bathroom.

“Oh, gosh.” You bent over your toilet, hurling out your stomach’s contents.

“Ugh.” You slumped back against the wall. Turning your head, you saw Yoongi standing there. The first thing you could grab was the scalpel in your lab coat pocket.

“Don’t. Yoongi. Don’t come closer. I need to be alone.” You held out the blade in a threatening manner. But Yoongi didn’t seem phased at all by your threat or weapon. He grabbed your wrist, taking the blade and throwing it behind him. He suddenly tugged you forward into his embrace. Yoongi felt you tremble in his arms like a leaf.

“Y-Your shoulder.” Was all you could say to distract yourself.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He whispered. That caused the dam to break. Sobs softly bubbled in your throat as you cried into his good shoulder.

“You’re okay. Breathe.” He coaxed. Honestly, Yoongi wasn’t the best at comforting people. Well, at least, that was what he believed. He was chosen to come in because he was the only one not covered in blood.

“Come on.” Yoongi helped you out of the bathroom and onto your bed.

“I’ll be okay. Just give me some time.” You placed a hand on your chest to breathe. Yoongi patiently sat with you.

Meanwhile...

Namjoon sighed. This was too much drama in one day, alone. Changing into a new shirt, he dumped his bloodied clothes in a pile. When he stepped out of his bathroom, he saw Taehyung standing there. His hair was wet, fresh from the shower. But his eyes were red.

“Taehyung ah.” Namjoon called out softly.

“I’m just like him.” Taehyung’s voice cracked as his bottom lip trembled.

“No, you’re not, Tae. Stop saying that about yourself.” Namjoon said, sitting down on his bed. He patted the space beside him and Taehyung came closer. Ever since you came, Taehyung hadn’t sought Namjoon out in a while.

“The fear she had... in her eyes. That was the fear noona had...” Taehyung mumbled.

“I told all of you. It’ll take some time for her to get used to all this. Just give her some time. The doctor is strong, she can do it. That, I give her credit for.” Namjoon said, patting Taehyung’s head. Taehyung left Namjoon’s room. He stopped outside your door, where he heard you talking to Yoongi. He had to make sure you weren’t afraid of him.

“Taehyung.” Jimin stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall.

“I want to speak to her.” Taehyung frowned.

“Are you going to tell her?”

“I... I can’t.” Just like that, Taehyung’s resolve crumbled. On the outside, Taehyung looked tougher than Jimin. But on the inside, Taehyung still wished he was like Jimin. Jimin no longer showed an ounce of guilt.

“Yoongi hyung is still talking to her. She’s not going to come out for a while. Why don’t you go help clean up?” Jimin suggested.

“Okay.” Taehyung turned and left your door. He headed to the other wing, the butlers had cleared the bodies already, leaving the maids to clean the floor of blood.

“Young master Taehyung.” They greeted. All he did was pick up his bat.

“Make sure it’s spotless.” He said and left. Going into the bathroom, Taehyung scrubbed the metal. After that, he washed the blood off his hands and under his nails. He constantly scrubbed them until the skin was raw. Even the blisters you treated the day before reopened.

When you calmed down, you stepped out into the garden to sit under the gazebo for some fresh air, you heard footsteps approaching you. You turned around to face the person.

“I thought I told you not to go to the other wing today.” The male said with a raised eyebrow.

“I forgot. I was just so worried about Hoseok working when he was injured, it didn’t even cross my mind.” You sighed. He took a seat opposite you.

“And look at what happened now.”

“I’ll be okay, not like I’m hurt or anything. It was just the initial shock.” You shrugged. And yet, the flashbacks of Taehyung beating the man and Jimin stabbing the other made you cringe.

“We all took a while to get over it too, at first. It’ll get easier as time passes.” He comforted.

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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🌼~BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you’re supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out.~🌼 xoxo toss a coin to your bard

You are far too sweet to send this, and my apologies for sitting on this so long without replying! I will definitely be continuing the game and appearing as a loving anon in ask boxes soon. In the meantime, here's a little ficlet of thank you.

As a bit of background, I've been watching Centaurworld recently and this song (Rider's Lullaby) has been stuck in my head for days. So I thought I'd give it a bit of a twist and let the horses of Kaer Morhen have it.

Lullaby of the Wolf

Winters weren't a time of rest for just Witchers. Their trusted companions on the perilous Path were also granted some much needed rest. Roach and Scorpion went years back, familiar enough with each other that Roach's disdain and Scorpion's less desirable personality traits no longer caused problems. They could even be housed in neighbouring stalls which was a major breakthrough on an especially cold winter. All the same, it was a welcome surprise when a bay gelding separated them.

"You're not the prickly bastard's," Roach sniffed daintily.

"My rider travels with him. They call me Nettle. Because I'm a pain in the butt."

There was a snort from Roach and Scorpion laughed heartily at that.

"Bossman called me Scorpion because I stung his pride. He really hoped for a nice juicy steak as his surprise."

Roach dryly cut in, "He should have eaten you anyway, probably would if he could understand you."

Nettle, rather wisely, decided not to comment on that. Or the colourful swearing Scorpion went off on about how a full blooded stallion like him was...actually, Nettle tuned it out in favour of watching a goat trot into the stable and give him a hard stare.

"Prickly's mate is staying, teach him."

Which was how Nettle spent the rest of winter learning the way of a Wolf Witcher's horse. Though he was a Cat Witcher's steed, he was deemed worthy of being brought into the fold. Namely, the lullaby. While horses' singing wasn't audible to humans, Witcher or not, it still seemed to help. Not only did it seem to soothe the Witchers, it helped the horses too, gave them something to focus on outside the wild panic of the situation at hand.

Despite none of them being exceptionally gifted in the way of singing, they all joined in, their soft voices joining to make a chorus.

"Where did the song come from?"

"The old one's mule taught us. Who was taught by the mule before," Roach explained.

The goat, Lil Bleater, chipped in. "It's been passed down generations. Sometimes the old one still hums it. Especially when he's been left by his pups each spring."

That wasn't something Nettle ever heard. But he dutifully memorised the song and even sang it softly under his breath on the way down the mountain, where his human and his mate were tense, as worried as they were on the way up. The others had been right, though they couldn't hear the song, they both relaxed whenever Nettle sang.

It was pure luck that the prickly one's payment for a contract was a horse. She was black, had a tendency to be lame when she didn't want to do something and was, inevitably, named Bitch. Even if she was the nicest horse Nettle had ever met.

"You're a Wolf Witcher's horse now," he told her in the evening as they were left to graze on the sparse grass. "There's some things you need to learn."

Travelling together, Nettle taught Bitch the song. She was definitely suspicious at first.

"Just go lame, they won't pull you in the direction of danger. It's much easier."

Nettle laughed at that. "Their job is to go into danger. And ours is to follow. This is what we can do for them. Carry them, be there for them when nobody else wants to be. It's not much but sometimes we're the only thing they have. It's an honour."

So together they sang and Bitch learned to be brave. She appreciated not being coerced into things, no forceful shoving, no smacks. A lot of cursing and name calling, even a threat of being eaten if she didn't get with the programme but it was all empty words. The underlying impression she got from her prickly owner was that he cared and that was his problem. Because his fragile heart couldn't bear the idea of more senseless loss. Everyone knew the fate of those who got close to a Witcher, human, horse, goat, they all eventually died. But Bitch grew fond of him, she sang the song Nettle had taught her the first night they were alone. Nettle and his Witcher had to head off, she didn't pay much attention to the reason, her main concern was her prickly one and his sudden sullen coldness. It seemed Nettle had been right, Witcher sometimes only had their horses.

They'd been alone together for weeks. Human settlements came and went, monsters too. Her job was to make sure her human got from one place to the next and, sometimes, she kicked up a fuss still, limping in an effort to get him to rest. Despite her best efforts he was still miserable, obviously missing the company of his mate even when he vehemently denied the need for anything but solitude.

Trust was an easy thing to earn. Bitch was content to follow her new owner, following after him obediently. Though his job was as odds with her nature, he had yet to lead her wrong. And she no longer gave him grief either, only insisting on breaks when he needed them too. At least, that was what she told herself until she heard a soft baritone shakily singing.

"You're okay, you're alright, I'll never ever leave your side."

The voice buckled, a soft "I'm sorry" that most certainly wasn't part of the song whispered before continuing, "I will stay and I will fight with you."

Stomping her feet, Bitch pulled at her reins. It had her prickly owner cursing and pulling back, trying to get her to follow along. However, they weren't moving towards the song and Bitch wasn't going to let this go. Rearing up, the yanked her reins free and started off at a canter towards the voice. She ignored the cursing and yelling from behind, trusting her Witcher to follow. Off the path, she crashed into a clearing where a dark horse was curled around a large body. As she clattered to a halt, the horse snorted defensively, ears pinned back.

"If you know what's good for you, you fuck off right now," he snarled. The smell of blood made Bitch shift uncomfortably.

"The song! I know it!" As she approached, the other horse snorted in warning and slowly got to his feet, standing protectively over the barely conscious Witcher.

Though Bitch tried to sing the song, the other horse pawed at the ground. He would have no trouble running her down, they both knew it. Before he could charge though, Bitch's Witcher tumbled into the clearing and blinked once.

"Fucking hell Eskel, what the bloody tits have you done?" There was no hesitation as he barged up to the body and gave the large horse a two handed shove with a growled "move it".

"He's mine," Bitch said, plain and simple. "I've not had him long but he's a good man."

"I know, Prickly is part of Bossman's herd. Didn't think Prickly ever really wanted a steed."

"He didn't. But he got me anyway. Calls me Bitch."

"Nice. I go by Scorpion." The dark horse trotted closer, turning to look at his human with sadness. "I wouldn't do anything to help. I'm glad you brought Prickly here."

They watched together as a camp was quickly set up, potions poured in the fallen Witcher's mouth and wounds tended to with gruff efficiency.

"We might as well settle in," Scorpion announced. "It'll be a couple of days at least before we get moving. And knowing these two, we'll stay in close quarters for a while yet. Welcome to the herd."

#minor lambert/aiden #roach #scorpion #lil bleater #lambert #the witcher #oc horses #tldr: the horses of kaer morhen have a song

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prongsgf · 3 years

Text

september 1st

in honour of the marauders 50 year friend-aversary!

it was september 1st, 1971 at 10:00am, and sirius black was not excited for the year ahead.

he knew what was going to happen- he knew he would end up in slytherin, as every black did. he knew he would have to make friends with the same sort of people cissy and bella were friends with. he knew he would become what his mother wanted of him, weather he liked it or not.

but sirius wasn’t going to be a carbon copy of his family. he didn’t believe in their blood supremacy or their values, he didn’t care about social status or surnames. he didn’t want to become what his mother wanted of him.

it was september 1st, 1971 at 2:00pm, and sirius black had made a friend.

well, he had made three friends- there was james; who had far too much energy and a personality as electric as sirius’ own. there was remus; who had been quiet and nervous at first but let himself smile a bit more as each minute passed. there was peter; who bounded in with snacks to share and jokes to crack, as if he had known the other boys all his life.

sirius knew then, that these three boys were going to be his best friends- a potter, a half-blood and.. peter. he knew then, that he certainly was not going to become what his mother wanted of him, and he couldn’t find it in him to care.

it was september 1st, 1972 at 9:00am, and sirius was far too excited to leave the house for his mother’s liking: not that he cared. he was littered with fresh bruises and scars. his hair had been cut again. his gryffindor scarf had been ripped up and sure, his neck was pretty chilly, but he was going to see his friends again and that was all that mattered to him.

it was september 1st, 1972 at 11:00am, and sirius relaxed for the first time in two months. he was around his favourite people on the way to his favourite place. he laughed and joked with james and peter about james’ new crush on a girl named lily evans. remus gave sirius a book to read and laughed at james with him (because really, evans?).

everything was the way sirius had been looking forward to. moments like those were the ones that kept him sane when he was barred up in grimmauld place.

he would have to go home again in a few months, he would have to listen to howlers and read letters putting him to shame. but he was with his friends again, and that was all that mattered to him.

it was september 1st, 1973 at 10:00am, and sirius black had spent the summer trying to drown out all the meetings happening in the room below his bed, all the beatings he secured himself, all the fights his mere existence seemed to cause.

all he wanted all he needed was to see his friends again- to remind him that he wasn’t by himself.

it was september 1st, 1973 at 6:00pm, and sirius black’s smile was wider than it had been in months. the food on his plate wasn’t earned by being quiet, the people around him weren’t scolding his every move. the boy beside him was still reading, putting his book down every few moments to laugh at jokes. the boys opposite him were trying to get the attention of the girls along the table (and failing miserably).

he was surrounded by love and joy and relief and friends.

it was september 1st, 1974 at 4:00am, and sirius black couldn’t sleep. he hadn’t slept in days, far too excited for the day ahead of him. he couldn’t stop thinking. he was far too excited to see remus. and to see james and peter too, of course.

the summer hadn’t been awful; his parents were preoccupied with their meetings and the flurries of people around the house. sirius had holed himself up in his room, wishing the days away and whispering meaningless chatter with regulus.

it was september 1st, 1974 at 12:00pm, and sirius black had not been functioning properly since remus entered the train compartment (for reasons unrelated to remus and purely coincidental).

sirius pushed everything that wasn’t laughter to the bottom of his head as he got back into the routine of school and being around friends. the year had promise and potential and things were looking up. he was well and truly happy.

it was september 1st, 1975 at 9:00am, and sirius black was using the housemaid’s concealer to hide the bruises on his cheeks- he couldn’t use a spell until he got to hogwarts and his friends would have seen by then. he piled on as much as he could without looking odd- it was bad enough that his parents knew he was gay, but wearing makeup would have earned him another round of the cruciatus curse. he shuddered.

it was september 1st, 1975 at 7:00pm, and sirius black was quite enjoying the fruit crumble in front of him. he was not enjoying, however, remus’ worried glances, james’ un-subtle questions and peter’s hesitation to touch him. they knew something had happened that summer- no matter how happy he had been since 11am, the makeup was wearing off, the smile was growing smaller, they could tell.

before he could speak, sirius felt a warm hand slide over his hesitantly under the table. a slow blush crept up his cheeks as remus squeezed his hand. the meal went on, and neither of them let go until they had to.

it was september 1st, 1976 at 8:00am, and sirius black still wasn’t tired of euphemia potter’s breakfasts. two months of pancakes, waffles, flavoursome spreads and fruit never seemed to get old. for once, he had enjoyed his summer- enjoyed everything about it. remus and peter had stayed for a few weeks. sirius couldn’t hold back his smile as he reminded himself of how remus’ lips tasted and how his hair smelled. the hatred between the marauders and the girls had finally sizzled out, leaving only memories of insults to speak of to future children.

as sirius pulled on his jeans, he smiled to himself.

it was september 1st, 1976 at 4:00pm, and sirius black watched dusk draw closer and closer through the window of the train. the group in the compartment had grown since their previous years, and now he listened to james, remus, peter, lily, marlene, mary and dorcas around him.

marlene was cuddled into dorcas by the door, and dorcas was stroking her hair- certainly not unusual for the two. james and lily were risking small glances at eachother, sometimes looking up at one other at the same time (which seemed to sufficiently embarrass lily).

he snapped himself back into the conversation, listening to remus’ story and trying not to get distracted by the delicate smiles he kept shooting over at sirius.

it was september 1st, 1977 at 9:00am, and sirius black was pulling down polaroids from his room in the potter’s house and moving them to his trunk. he rifled through them: lily, alice and mary in their tent, james, dorcas and frank aggressively sharing a bottle of firewhiskey, remus wearing sirius’ hoodie (that one was sirius’ favourite), peter trying to teach marlene how to bake, lily and james un-subtly holding hands under the table.

sirius placed them carefully in his trunk and smiled. these are the best years of my life. these are the memories that will last a lifetime no matter how many more i make.

it was september 1st, 1977 at 11:00pm, and sirius black was sat curled into remus on his favourite armchair, watching inquisitively as dorcas proved how awful she was at firewhisky charades (a game invented by peter in fifth year: every time someone guesses wrong, the actor takes a sip of firewhisky). alice ventured a guess (cornish pixie) that was inevitably wrong, forcing james to hand the bottle to dorcas once more. not one person round the fireplace had a straight face.

right as sirius was about to speak, he was overcome with a wave of something he had never felt so strongly- he was sat among his favourite people, his chosen family. he was exactly where he should be: in his boyfriend’s arms around the fire in gryffindor common room, with the nine people he loved most in the world.

he was right where he belonged.

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fiveisnumber1 · 3 years

Text

The Vortex That Takes Me To You - "Me, Lu, and Five Times Two" Side Story

Main story parts:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32

_________________________

"Wait!" Five called out as he tried to hand you the briefcase

It was too late though as Luther pushed him into the vortex to 2019. As Five held the now-defunct half of the briefcase he fell through time for what felt like a matter of seconds before hitting the ground of the courtyard behind the academy. With a giant flash, the spot in the sky where the blue used to be was now gone. From afar the five known living Hargreeves siblings slowly approached the person who dropped from the sky. Slowly, Five got up from the ground throwing the broken briefcase away as he dusted the dirt and leaves off his clothing. Approaching closer the group looks on in confusion as Klaus asks,

"Does anyone else see a slightly older version of little number Five or is that just me?"

Five took a look down at himself. His suit was too loose now and when he looked at his hands he saw no more wrinkles or signs of old age. There was a leftover puddle nearby from rain that must've occurred early and as he bent over it he saw the version of himself that he had left only moments ago. Bringing a hand up to his face, he stared at his newly youthful reflection.

"I'm young again." He whispered to himself

At the same time that this was happening you were making your way to the florist to pick up flowers that Pogo had ordered. As you walked to the shop you felt that something was wrong. No, not wrong, but different. From behind you, you felt a molecular disturbance and a giant one at that. As you continued to walk to the shop the physical pain grew so much that you had to stop and bend over. It felt like your insides were being torn apart bit by bit. Somehow managing to turn around you felt the direction it was coming from. It was coming from back towards the house. The pain of the disturbance went on for a few more seconds but then abruptly it stopped. Catching your breath, you stood back up but something felt familiar in a way. It was like an odd chill of deja vu but you had never experienced this before. But if the disturbance was coming from the house then the flowers could wait. Reginald didn't deserve flowers anyway. Quickly, you started sprinting back towards the Academy trying to get there as quickly as you could.

Back at the house, the five Hargreeves siblings sat around the kitchen table as they watched the newly returned Five make a sandwich. It had been years since they had last seen him and a lot had changed in that time. Everyone had their own thoughts and feelings on the matter and some were more upset than others. Five wasn't exactly sure what to say to them after all this time. It was quite a complicated situation to be in. Trying to not let his uncertainty show, Five stoically questioned,

"What is the date? The exact date."

The group stays quiet for a second before Vanya states,

"The 24th."

"Of?" Five pressed

"March," Vanya replies

"Good." Five comments

This was exactly the time that he was planning to be here, on the day of his father's funeral. Thank god that man was dead. If he was alive he would never hear the end of it.

"So are we gonna talk about what just happened?" Luther asks

It was no surprise to Five that Luther would speak up. Even after all this time, he was trying to take the lead on things. Instead of responding to his brother, Five puts two slices of bread down on a cutting board and focuses on his desired food item. He hadn't eaten all day and apparently paradox psychosis was a real energy drainer. He needed a second before he was going to explain anything. Standing up, Luther looks down to Five and states firmly,

"It's been 17 years."

"It's been a lot longer than that." Five replies immediately jumping behind Luther to find marshmallows

"I didn't miss that." Luther comments

While Five looks around the kitchen for the marshmallows, Diego asks accusingly,

"So where'd you go?"

Of course, an accusatory tone. How could Diego not have one? Five could just tell that Diego was upset not because he had disappeared for years but because he was the one that made you disappear for years. If only the siblings cared for each other as much as Diego cared for you, maybe things would be different. Five didn't have time for Diego's older brother shtick though. Jumping back to the table with the marshmallows, Five bluntly replied,

"The future. It's shit by the way."

"Called it!" Klaus exclaims

Five turned towards the refrigerator to get peanut butter for his sandwich, his mind wandering as he thought back to his time in the apocalypse. 45 years. He was so arrogant to think he could time travel. Grabbing the peanut butter jar, Five talks aloud,

"I should've listened to the old man. You know jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice."

Unscrewing the lid of the peanut butter jar Five looks up from the sandwich he was making and at his siblings before him. The last time he had seen them all together was as corpses. And before that, they were all still children. It was a lot to take in but he was focused on his task of stopping the apocalypse. He had the information he needed on what caused it, but he needed to find the right time to discuss it with everyone. Keeping a stoic look he tries to deflect his mind to something else by commenting to Klaus,

"Nice dress."

"Oh, Danke," Klaus responds playing with some of the loose straps

As he starts to assemble the sandwich he was making Vanya questions him,

"So how did you get back?"

"In the end, I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time." Five responds

"That makes no sense," Diego says confused

"Well, it would if you were smarter." Five remarks

Diego angrily stands up and stares down Five attempting to get towards him to attack him. Instead, Luther stands up puts out an arm to hold him back. Honestly, it didn't matter if Luther was there to stop Diego or not. He was all bark and no bite.

"How long were you there?" Luther asks

"45 years." Five states bluntly "Give or take."

Luther and Diego both sit back down in unison. All the siblings stare at their brother with wide eyes in shock at his statement. 45 years?

"So what are you saying? You're 58?" Luther asks

"No. My consciousness is 58. My body is 18 again." Five retorts

With his sandwich put together, Five walks off to the side of the table they all sat around and faces away from his siblings.

"How does that even work?" Vanya inquires

"I used the improper equation when I was forced through time." Five replies

"Improper equation?" Vanya questions

Electing to ignore Vanya's question, Five turns back towards his siblings at the table. There was no reason to explain all that had happened before he came here. It was unnecessary and would probably worry his siblings more than they needed to be, or perhaps even enrage them and there was no way he was going to stop the apocalypse if his siblings weren't willing to work together. Picking up a newspaper detailing the death of his father, Five takes a look at it before commenting unamused,

"Guessed I missed the funeral."

"How did you know about that?" Luther asks

"What part of the future do you not understand." Five remarks to him, his eyes not leaving the paper "Heart failure, huh?"

"Yeah," Diego says

"No," Luther adds

Ah, yes. One and Two still fighting to be the leader of the family as if it hadn't been years since the dissolution of the Umbrella Academy.

"Hmm. Nice to see nothing's changed." Five comments

The Hargreeves looked at their newly returned brother and as he stood there quietly, holding his sandwich he stared back awkwardly at his siblings. The prior self that he left in the '60s said that you would show up when the conversation with his siblings felt over. It felt pretty over right now and there was no sign of you. Five's heart started to race, everything had been laid out for him, and now nothing was going according to plan. Panicked, Five decided it was best to leave. Keeping a serious look on his face he started to walk out of the kitchen.

"Uh, that's it? That's all you have to say?" Allison questioned

"What else is there to say?" Five responded

When he was out of sight of his siblings he once again noticed how his suit didn't fit him properly anymore. He needed to change. Flashing upstairs he looked in the closets of his siblings but was met with academy uniform after academy uniform. Reluctantly, he took an academy uniform from Klaus' closet since it looked like it would fit best and put it on. He stared at himself in the mirror for a bit before deciding to head back downstairs.

Making it back to the house, you looked around, and only felt faint traces of a disturbance. Maybe you were going crazy? Heading through the front door you looked around the foyer and some other rooms on the main floor and upper floors but found no one. Maybe they all got in an argument and left, it's not like they enjoyed being here anyway. Letting out a small sigh you made your way back downstairs to the parlor. Someone would probably show up soon enough. You stood in the doorway for a second and stared at the portrait above the fireplace. You had hated the painting at first, but you tolerated its presence after years of coexisting with it. Carefully, you made your way over to the fireplace and looked up at the portrait that loomed over you. It was nothing like him. No light in his eyes, no cocky smile on his face, no personality. Just an emotionless and unrealistic replication of who he was. You wanted him to come back.

As you stared at his portrait, Five had made his way downstairs and took in what had become of his home. As he approached the parlor he saw a giant portrait of him on the wall and below it stood a familiar figure. Five stopped in his tracks and his heart began to race. This was his (Y/N). Five readjusted his jacket and tie and took in a breath before slowly starting to walk over to you. Hearing footsteps behind you, you stopped looking at the painting and turned to look where they came from. Seeing the figure before you, your eyes went wide with shock as the world around felt like it was slowing down. Carefully, you moved forward towards him almost as if in a trance, worried that if you moved too fast he would vanish. You extended your hand out and Five moved to meet you in the middle. When the two of you were close enough your fingertips lightly brushed his cheek, but you quickly pulled back, shocked by the feeling of something there.

"I think I'm hallucinating again," you whisper

Five reaches out and gently grabs the hand you had retracted. Bringing it closer to him he places it on top of his heart, holding your hand there. You can feel his heart beating rapidly beneath your hand as your own started to catch up to match his. You looked up at his face and gazed into his eyes. Tears prick your own as you softly ask,

"Five?"

Five smiled at you as he looked upon your face. You were so beautiful. Not that you weren't in the 60s but the way you looked at him now was different. It was soft and welcoming and felt like it was only for him. Leaning in just a little closer Five whispered to you,

"I'm here."

You let out a small gasp. He was here. This was real. Flinging your arms around him you held him tightly as Five wrapped his arms around to hold you back. No wonder his other self was so protective, who would ever want to let this go? You looked up at Five. A question had loomed on your mind ever since the day he vanished and you had to know the answer.

"Are you still mad at me?" You questioned nervously

Five saw the nervous look on your face. He knew that you had wondered if he was mad at you for a while. It was one of the last things you had said to him before you...died. Five took your face into his hands. Looking gently into your eyes he answered,

"I was never mad at you, to begin with. I was mad at my dad and one of my biggest regrets will always be taking that out on you and then leaving you all alone."

With his response, a weight fell off your shoulders. For so long you had thought you were the one that drove him away. You thought he was mad at you all this time, but to know that wasn't the case made you feel so much better.

"So you didn't purposely stay away?" You asked

"No, how could I ever choose to be away from my best friend?" Five added

You looked off to the side as best as you could, given that your face was held between his hands, and hoped that he didn't notice the blush rising to your cheeks.

"I don't know, but I missed you." You mumbled

Five took his hands from your face and hugged you once more responding,

"I missed you too. Not a day went by when I didn't."

You smiled knowing that Five had missed you as much as you missed him. Day after day, month after month, year after year, you thought of him as you waited for him to come back. And now here he was before you telling you he felt the same way. It was all that you needed to hear. Well...there were other things you wanted to hear but those were more so desires than necessities. You were just happy to have him back.

"Pull that shit again and I'll kill you." You joke as you give him a small shove away

"I promise I won't." Five replies with a smirk "Although I don't think you would kill me anyway."

"Perhaps." You respond

Five threw his hands into the pockets of his academy shorts and looked at you.

"Care to walk and talk around the house?" Five offered

"Of course. Would you like me to turn invisible so you look insane for old times sake?"

"I already look insane in this uniform." Five joked

"You always did. C'mon, let's go." You say extending your hand towards him

Five looks at your hand, almost hesitant to take it because none of this felt real. Even though he had been around you not too long ago back in the 60s, this truly was different. This version of you hadn't seen him since the day he left. Unlike prior you who had experienced being around him, you had waited every day for his return. There was an excitement and awe that he got from you this time around that made him nervous. As Five thought more about the situation before him he froze up. As much as he trusted you when you said that you loved him the way he loved you Five still couldn't help but wonder if his other self just had better circumstances. He still worried that maybe that version really was just lucky. Five didn't want to get this wrong, but nevertheless, he took your hand. Fingers intertwining, there was electricity you both felt but would not tell the other.

With a smile, you started to walk around the house as you had done many times before, both of you trying your best to catch the other up. The conversation came easy as if the two of you were never separated. Five took in the sights of his old home. Nothing had really changed since he left, minus the small presence you had created. There was a newer piano in the parlor and you had shown off your wonderful room to him. He remembered your description of it from your diary and how you changed it from being Diego's to yours but it was even better in person. As you two exited your room Five looked down the hall at a shut door. It was his room. Five made his way there and you followed behind. Carefully, he opened the door to it and stepped inside. Once more you followed behind and thinking that the sight of his childhood room might be tough for him, you shut the door.

As you shut the door though Allison who had been heading to her room happened to pass by and noticed the two of you in there. Something about you two being together again reignited the feelings of her youth. She remembered the times when you and she had traded secrets about your crushes. The gossip in her immediately needed to tell someone else. Turning back around she went downstairs and noticed the rest of her siblings in the parlor again. Approaching them all she said,

"I don't want to alert anyone but Five and (Y/N) went into Five's room and shut the door."

"WHAT?!" Diego shouted as he angrily turned to face her

"Oooh, juicy," Klaus commented "I remember being 18 and hormonal. Horniness levels are through the roof, I mean-"

"NOT ON MY WATCH!" Diego yelled cutting Klaus off

There was no way his baby sister was going to be in a room with a boy alone. Especially not with the boy who had left her alone and broke her heart. What was he going to do? Break it again? Not if he had anything to say about it. With his fists clenched tight Diego started to march his way out of the parlor. He was going to protect his little tiny princess, but as he attempted to go, Luther, with his superior strength, held him back.

"Let me go, Luther!" Diego yelled

"We shouldn't just barge in there Diego." Luther criticizes

"That's MY little sister!" Diego retorts

"There are better ways of approaching this," Luther replies

"I want to know what's going on though..." Vanya comments

"Me too," Allison adds

As the group stands around debating Ben leans over to Klaus and says,

"Klaus."

"What do you want?" Klaus replies annoyed

"Is that camera we bought as kids still in Five's room?" Ben asks

"Yeah, we never took it out. Why?"

"The tablet to watch the video feed on is in my closet." Ben states

Klaus looks at him confused for a second before realizing what Ben meant. Getting excited Klaus exclaims,

"Guys! Guys!"

The rest of the group looks over to him confused and with all of their attention grabbed Klaus continues,

"The video camera we got as kids is still in Five's room and the tablet is in Ben's closet!"

"Do you think it still even works?" Allison questions

"It's worth a try," Luther says

The group looks at each other before silently nodding in agreement. Together they head up to Ben's room and search for the tablet in his closet. Finding it they turn on the switch and to their surprise, it works. The picture quality was not as great as they remember but clear enough that they all can see what is going on. As they all stand over the tablet Diego says annoyed,

"Alright Five, what are you hiding from me."

"From us." Luther corrects

The two brothers glare at each other before turning their attention back to the tablet and the two of you in Five's room. Five stepped into his room quietly taking in the surroundings. Nothing had changed, it was as if his room was frozen in time. As he looks around you slowly approach his side. Standing next to him you looked around the room as well and comment,

"It's an odd feeling. Knowing that time has passed but everything looks the same."

Five looks towards you. Of course, you knew the feeling he was going through.

"No worries though, we'll get you everything you need to make this place feel like home again." You mention

"I already have everything I need to feel at home." Five replies, his hand holding yours just a little tighter

Five gazes in your direction but as he does so he notices something behind you. Letting go of your hand he steps around you curious and makes his way over to his desk. Looking down at the object placed there he realized that it's the radio he had taken from Allison all those years ago. Confused as to what he was looking at you followed him towards the desk and saw the radio.

"I can't believe it's still here after all this time." Five comments

"Well we never gave it back and I'm guessing nobody wanted to come take it after..." You mention trailing off

"Yeah..." Five replies before questioning "I wonder if it still works?"

You shrugged your shoulders and gestured to the old electronic encouraging him to see if it worked. Leaning down Five plugs in the old radio before pressing the on button. The sound of static blasts loudly through the speakers causing both of you to flinch back a little in shock. After a moment Five started to turn the knob to tune the radio, searching through for a station that was clear. Soon the static started to fade and in its place music could be heard.

As the camera continues to spy on the two of you, the rest of the Hargreeves siblings watch what goes on from Ben's room. Seeing the working radio Allison exclaims,

"Hey, it's my radio! I never got it back!"

"Allison, it's been years and still no one cares about your radio." Klaus comments "We want to know what's up with Five and (Y/N)."

Allison lets out a huff and crosses her arms. Just because it was old and she hadn't been in possession of it or thought about it for years didn't mean it wasn't hers. Even with her pouting, the siblings continued to observe. As they did so Diego aggressively says,

"Alright Five what shit are you going to pull now?"

"I don't think he's going to do anything." Vanya comments "I mean there's nothing wrong with them being happy."

Back in Five's room, music flowed through the air as Five leaned against the edge of his desk, watching you look around the place. He was absolutely enthralled by you. The most mundane of things seemed extravagant just because you were there with him. A wide smile appeared on his face as he remembered a similar time he had spent with you. You took in the room silently as the upbeat music played. It had been a bit since you'd last been in Five's room, but for the first time in a while it felt warm and bright again. Looking over your shoulder you looked back towards Five and noticed the smile on his face.

"What?" You questioned

"Nothing." Five replied with a shake of his head

"Nothing? The mind of Five Hargreeves is completely empty?" You joke sarcastically "This is something I'd expect from your brothers, not you."

Five rolled his eyes at you but he missed your quick wit. No one at the commission could keep up with him like you could. As you walked back over to him, Five could see the look on your face waiting for him to elaborate.

"I was just thinking-" Five starts to explain before being cut off

"Ah, so you were thinking!" You comment back

"Yes." Five replies letting out a small laugh "I was thinking about how this reminds me of our friendiversary a bit."

"Yeah, kind of, minus the food and flowers." You reply

You were right, there was no food and flowers. How could he even think to compare the two times when this time wasn't as perfect? Quickly standing up from the desk, Five starts to make his way over to the door as he states worried,

"Do you want food and flowers?"

Reaching out, you grab his hand preventing him from going any further. Stopping in his tracks he looks back towards you confused at your action. Gently, you pull his hand back towards you, causing him to come back close to you. With his hand still in yours, Five asks confused,

"Do you not want food and flowers?"

"No, Five." You replied with a smile "I just want you."

For a moment, Five could feel his heart stop. Although his expression seemed calm and collected, internally he had no clue what to do. He was so preoccupied trying to figure out how to get back to 2019 so he could stop the apocalypse that he never stopped to think fully about what would happen when he actually did so. And it wasn't until he met himself that he even found out being a teenager again was a possibility. This was the most unprepared he had ever been and the nerves he felt on your friendiversary were nothing compared to the nerves he felt now. If you didn't want food or flowers then what could he do? And then from the radio, he heard the voice of the announcer,

"This is Arlo Vegas with 103.5 WKTU. I hope that even with all the doom and gloom outside today everyone can stay high and dry. Up next, a throwback to 2017 this is Adore by Dean Lewis."

I'm just gonna stand with my bag hanging off my left arm I'm just gonna walk home kicking stones at parked cars But I had a great night, 'cause you kept rubbing against my arm So I'm just gonna stand with my bag hanging off my left arm

Five looked towards the radio as the sound of a soft guitar slowly playing and the lyrics of the song enveloped the room. As the music played he remembered the part of your friendiversary that he could never forget. He remembered how the two of you danced that night and the joy he felt in that moment. Looking back towards you he nervously asked,

"Would you like to dance...with me?"

"I'd love to." You replied longingly

Five guided you the few steps towards the center of his room taking a quiet breath as he tried to calm his nerves. How did he do this so easily as a child? Oh right, he didn't realize he was in love with you then. Turning back to face you he saw as your eyes lit up and your smile widened. So much for breathing when you took his breath away so easily. Gently, he took one of your hands in his as he wrapped his other arm around your waist. You wrapped your free arm around his neck as the two of you slowly started to dance to the music.

Get me a drink, I get drunk off one sip, just so I can adore you I want the entire street out of town just so I can be alone with you Now go when you're ready My head's getting heavy, pressed against your arm I adore you

"So is this what your prom was like last week?" Five asked

You looked up towards him slightly confused. How did he know about your prom? It took you a second to remember but you then recalled that he had come from the future so he had to have found out about it somehow. You recalled your prom only a week ago, it was fun to be with your friends but it was definitely not the same experience as dancing with Five. With a slight chuckle, you answer.

"No, it was not like this."

"Oh, why not?" Five questions

"Well dancing with you is quite different than dancing with Dean, because neither of us had dates and we pitied each other." You explained

"I wish I could've come a week earlier then. I would've saved you the pity by dancing with your brother." Five joked

"Wow, okay." You laughed

"I'm joking." Five explained, his expression softening as he added "I'd never pass up a chance to dance with you."

"Neither would I." you replied quietly

All of my money is spent on these nights, just so we can hang out Spacing in and out of your dresses, I wanna be found by you Found by you

As the two of you swayed you couldn't help but rest your head against his chest. A small smile appeared on your face as you closed your eyes and comfortably melted into the moment. Unconsciously, you started to stroke the hair at the back of his head casing Five to lean into your touch. It was so gentle and soft. Five could feel his heart start to pick up its pace. He hoped that you couldn't hear so because he had no clue how he would explain it to you. Granted, he knew all the words he wanted to say to you but he didn't know if he'd even be able to get them out.

As your head rested on top of him a thought came to your mind. It was something that you hadn't done in a while and something you had desired to do. Lifting your head up, you look towards Five who looks back down towards you. Had he done something wrong? Did you hear how fast his heart was beating? Quietly you ask,

"Will you spin me?"

Relief washes over Five's system as he gives you a soft smile.

"Of course I will," He replies

Slightly breaking away from you he helps to twirl you around, the smile on your face filling his heart to the point he felt it was going to burst. Your laughter filled the room as you enjoyed your time with your best friend. You couldn't think of anything to make the moment better. Five spins you back in towards him before spinning you out once more. As you spin out quickly your grip on his hand slips and you start to fall back. Quickly, Five flashes over and catches you. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist as yours find their way around his neck.

She kicks the gutter in tight shorts, basketball courts Watch me, watch her talk to boys I'm known as a right-hand slugger Anybody else wanna touch my lover?

The two of you look at each other both trying to catch your slight breaths from the burst of adrenaline that just occurred.

"I told you I wasn't going to let you fall." Five comments

It was too late for that though. You had fallen for him years ago in a situation exactly like this one. There was something different about it this time, an energy you had never felt before. Your eyes were still locked on each other he slowly brought you back up. The soft bridge of the song played in the back but all either of you could hear was the beating of your own hearts. Wrapped up tightly in each other's arms there was no space between the two of you. Each of you wanted to say so many things, wanted to shout the thoughts that raced in your mind, the ones you always had, but no words came out. As Five stood there with you in his arms he finally started to understand what you meant back in the 60s when you said the pieces would fall into place. Everything about this moment felt right like it was meant to be. Like he was meant to be here with you. As you continued to look into each other's eyes there was a magnetism that pulled you closer. Your faces inched closer as the space between you lessened more and more. For a moment you both wondered if you were dreaming but no, this was real. You were here with each other. And as the climax of the final verse hit, your eyes closed as your lips gently pressed against each other.

Tenderly, you both expressed everything you wanted to tell the other without saying any words at all. The years of pining and longing to be reunited had finally culminated into something beautiful. Something you both had desired for a very long time. The world around you faded away leaving only the two of you and your newly acknowledged love for each other. Removing his arms from your waist he took your face in his hands, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. He never wanted to leave this moment. This was all he ever wanted, this is what he survived and fought for and now to have it? It felt unreal to him. But it was real. He had you, and you had him, and nothing would ever take that away now.

I adore you

Neither of you wanted to be the first to part from the kiss but as the final lyric of the song ended the two of you slowly separated. With eyes still closed, you rested your foreheads against each other, relishing in the beautiful moment. As Five held you close, he knew he needed to tell you something. Even if he had expressed it in his kiss to you, he wanted to verbalize it, to make it know and make it real. Moving one of his hands from your cheek to your chin, he tilted your face up to look at him. As he gazed into your eyes, with adoration in his voice, he whispered,

"I love you, (Y/N)."

You could feel your stomach flutter with butterflies as you processed his words. There was nothing you wanted to hear more than those words. Finally getting to express how you felt, you replied breathlessly,

"I love you too, Five. You know what this means now though."

"What?" Five questioned

"You can never leave me again." You answer

"I promise nothing will ever tear us apart again. Not people, not distance, not time, nothing."

The two of you looked at each other lovingly before leaning in for another kiss. As you did so the siblings in the other room saw everything.

"Awww," Vanya said as she placed a hand over her heart

"They're so cute!" Allison exclaimed

"They are not!" Diego remarks angrily as he tries to make his way to the door "I'm going to go in there and stop him."

"Luther, stop him." Allison requests

Doing as she says, Luther wraps his arms around Diego from behind and picks him off the ground. Kicking his legs and wriggling around, Diego fights like a child trying to escape Luther's grasp.

"That is my little princess! I need to put a stop to this!" Diego complains

"She is 18, you need to let her live her life," Allison replies

"Not with him! The one who ruined it." Diego retorts

"I don't think she sees it that way," Vanya interjects

As the other siblings argue with Diego, Ben leans over to Klaus and states,

"If I was alive you would owe me $20 bucks right now. I told you they'd come back and get together before Allison and Luther would."

"Oh, shut up," Klaus replies

The rest of the group looks over to Klaus before looking back at the still flailing Diego.

"Klaus makes a good point. You need to drop this and shut up Diego." Allison states

"I will not!" Diego replies back

"If you don't calm down, drop the issue, and let them be happy I will rumor you into doing so." Allison threatens

It takes a moment but Diego soon stops his fighting. He was not going to be rumored into ignoring the situation but for now, he would put it off. Letting out a huff, Diego relents,

"Fine."

"Good, now let's shut down this camera and just leave them be. We can talk to them later." Luther commands as he puts Diego back down

And so as the siblings tried to quietly file out of Ben's room and go off to do other things, this version of Five and you stayed happily together ready to take on whatever the future threw at them.

____________________________________

Taglist: @xplrreylo @joebob15274 @insatiable-ivy @fruitsaladtree @angelpeachamber @academy-umbrella @lizziel1410 @ir3neeee @faith-quake @aliens-with-colas @sunsetcurve-1995 @lady-celeste25 @im-dead-and-hurting @nerdypinupcrystal @cherry-ki-d @anapocalypseinmymind @vicassa @2cuteforyourlies @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @shadowycreationcupcake @emily-hargreeves @metor-showers1994 @fivehargreevesforthewin @rinko-san @supernovavision @cicilisthebest @flickbix @hi-v-juice @magykal-777 @zosiaduda @thethirdwheelfriend @mysticracoon @isnt-it-loverly @officiallydarkgeek @lady1505 @always-the-very-worst @tinypandagirl @libidinexx @lemongrabbuns @itwasallred @deadandoverit @shlokage @keksi249 @theoriginalkat @we-stan-fiction @bi-idiot-fanfics @annnagennnie @izzyjojo4 @megasimpleplan4ever @flowertoty @grabthemoneyandletsgo @itsametaphorbriansblog @vanillacaramelhoney @satvaldiva @disaster-magician @margotsfandoms @emily-b-m @bluechildrenlickmytoes @soft-slytherin-sweetie @oceanspray5 @im-here-for-fanfics @thebloodrobin @freestarlight @starcurrent @lilacs-lavender @moatsnow @give-the-boy-a-hug @narikyuwu @whenyouregrungeaff @gabriella-aesthetic @xxtwizztedxx

#The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #umbrella acedmy #tua #tua2 #UA #number five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy five

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tennessoui · 3 years

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40 or 43 if you’re still taking prompts! i love ur AUs they’re so beautiful and contain so much brilliance within a short snippet!

it's been so long, anon, you probably forgot you sent this but here is prompt 40, exes meeting after not seeing each other for a long time. in true tennessoui fashion, they don't. actually. meet and/or see each other in this snippet. also in true tennessoui fashion, all tennessoui needs to decide to continue this is one (1) validation.

the backstory here is something i have been thinking about for days after a discord convo, where during the fight on mustafar, obi-wan hits anakin hard enough in the head that he loses all of his memories. obi-wan takes him with him for a few months but the wounds of Order 66 and vaderkin's role in what happened is too fresh for obi-wan to (understandably) get over, even if this anakin doesn't remember doing it, so they separate. this is set 8 years after Mustafar.

(1.7k)

“Kenobi won’t come,” the fighter pilot says immediately upon disembarking from his craft.

One commander lets out a groan. Someone else hits the durasteel side of the closest x-wing with a closed fist.

“Do we really need him?” Anakin demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s been eight years since the rise of the Empire. Surely a washed-up Jedi General from the Clone Wars won’t have people jumping to join the Rebellion!”

No one meets his eye. In fact, the air room suddenly feels very, very uncomfortable.

Organa exhales heavily and turns to look at Anakin, which is rare because the man never voluntarily looks at Anakin. “There are few names from that time that still carry an untainted weight in the eyes of the galaxy. Obi-Wan Kenobi is one of them.”

“I grew up hearing about The Team!” A teenager says eagerly. “I’d join any resistance movement if I knew both of ‘em were fighting with me!”

“You’re already a part of a resistance movement,” a girl next to him pointed out waspishly.

The boy waves her off. “Skywalker and Kenobi, saving the galaxy! It’d be wizard to be a part of that, and you know it, Aasha!”

Anakin’s throat tightens at that name. Skywalker. His name. Or, his old name. He has no more connection to it now than he does to the name Kenobi or Organa. They’re just letters.

He catches Organa’s eye. The man is looking at him with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Anakin knows instinctively that this is another one of the man’s tests. Will this time be the time that whatever injury has kept his memories suppressed for eight years is undone, and his previous life comes thundering through his mind?

He’s sick of these tests. He’s never failed one, but Organa never comes closer to trusting him afterward. He can only assume that whatever Anakin Skywalker had done in his last few days alive had been so terrible that only a few people knew the truth, and those who did would never forgive any version of him for it.

Organa certainly knew, though he had never shared that information with Anakin. And.

And Kenobi did as well. That was clear. They’d only been together for five standard months, sharing a small spacecraft made smaller by the fear, agony, grief, fury, and hurt radiating off of his companion into the space around them.

It had been hard to tell at the time if one of the things Obi-Wan Kenobi had been grieving was the loss of Anakin Skywalker. Anakin isn’t sure Kenobi would have been able to answer that either.

Some part of him that usually rests dormant in the back of his mind stirs and hisses that it had to have been. That Skywalker’s loss had torn Kenobi’s soul to shreds.

This doesn’t necessarily feel like his own thought, but it’s quite hard to ignore. He wants to rub a hand against his aching head, but that surely would tip off Organa that something’s--what? That he’s having thoughts?

Perish the very idea.

One would think Anakin hadn’t joined the Rebellion of his own free will. That Anakin hadn’t spent three standard months on the planet Kenobi had left him on before catching wind of the existence of the Rebel Alliance, that he hadn’t risked life and limb (more limb, apparently, given his missing flesh hand) to find them afterwards. He hadn’t known much anything about himself, but he had known that he hadn’t liked what the Imperial troops were doing, how much destruction they were causing, how the people they were supposed to be protecting hid in fear of their white armor.

Something in Anakin had rebelled at that, had thought it wrong and twisted. Someone needs to stop them, he’d thought. So he had found the people that were trying to.

And yes, a small part of him had thought--perhaps hoped--that Obi-Wan Kenobi would be a part of the Rebel Alliance by the time Anakin made his way to their biggest base. He had thought--perhaps hoped--that he would be able to prove himself to the other man. Look, he had wanted to scream at Kenobi, I’m not like that other Anakin, I would never do what he did. You can trust me. You can look me in the eye, I won’t stab you in the back.

Because something in him had yearned, still yearns, for Kenobi’s approval. For the weight of his gaze settling warmly around his shoulders. For his small smiles, his calloused hand clasping the back of Anakin’s head to bring their foreheads together in a gentle tap hello.

These are things Anakin knows he’s never experienced. But he must have in his past life, because his whole body will ache for them like a phantom limb. It’s been seven years and a few months since he last saw Kenobi.

“I’ll go,” Anakin says, which is what he said the last time they were standing like this, huddled around a fighter pilot delivering the same message of failure.

Organa’s mouth tightens in displeasure, and Mothma places a hand on his arm in warning.

Everyone else falls silent around them, as if recognizing the fact that they’re in the middle of a brewing storm, and they’re lucky to be in its eye right now.

“I do not think--” Organa starts, but Anakin cuts him off, crossing his arms even tighter over his chest, as if to hold himself back. The force suppression collar around his neck grows warmer, but it holds. It always holds.

“You’re already sending men who look like me to him!” Anakin points out irately. “The last four men could have been related to me!” It’s something Anakin’s thought about in the past but never said out loud. He’s glad to say it now though, especially because Organa flushes a bit which means Anakin’s right. “Just send me! If it doesn’t work, nothing in the galaxy will!”

Now, Anakin isn’t sure that’s true at all. He’s taking a huge leap with this, but it’s been seven years and a few months since he saw Obi-Wan Kenobi in person, and every part of him is aching with the desire to lay eyes on the man again. Will he hate him still? Will he see all the differences Anakin’s made to his appearance? Will he like them? He fights the urge to run a hand over his shorn hair.

Will Obi-Wan even let him through the door?

The people around them are murmuring now. They don’t know what Organa knows, what Anakin has guessed at: that Skywalker died a traitor to the Republic, that he had tried to strike down Obi-Wan like the Emperor struck down the rest of the Jedi. To them, these fortunate outsiders, they’re wondering why Anakin Skywalker hasn’t already been sent to locate and bring back their errant General.

Before, Anakin’s offer had been quiet, easily ignored over someone else’s. Now he’s loud and confident. Impossible to turn away without making a public scene, without explaining why. And Organa has tried very hard not to do that. For whatever reason, Anakin doesn’t know. All he knows is that after he’d been examined by a battalion of med droids and interrogated by all three leaders of the Rebellion, Organa had given him a list of rules he had to follow in order to join the Rebel Alliance. Firstly, never remove his cuffs and collar.

It’s not a slave collar and it won’t electrocute you if you touch it or try to take it off, Organa had told him when he’d blanched away at the sight. But I have been informed by a trusted ally that the Chance--the Emperor knows your Force Signature intimately. We cannot risk being found. It would kill all hope for us.

Secondly, never confirm his identity. Never talk about who he used to be.

People will know, Organa had grudgingly admitted. Skywalker was one of the faces of the Clone Wars. But you cannot confirm it. In fact.

Thirdly, give up the name Skywalker. Pick another last name, if not first as well.

But Anakin had been attached to his first name for some reason he didn’t know how to begin to question, so even after he toyed with the idea of changing it completely, he couldn’t go through with it. Weeks later he had shown up in Organa’s makeshift office.

I had a mother, didn’t I? He had asked, causing Organa to stiffen immediately.

Do you remember? Organa had interrogated immediately, his standard greeting for Anakin. Anakin had gotten the feeling, especially in those early days, that Organa was waiting with baited breath for Anakin to remember so he could try him for war crimes or treason or whatever it was that Skywalker had done.

No, he had responded honestly. Just a feeling. If I am to take a new last name, I want her name.

A few days later, Anakin had stumbled into his bunk, tired from a day of hard training, to see a packet of documents on his pillow.

Anakin Shmison was written at the top of the first page.

The list of rules goes on and on.

But nowhere does it say that Anakin Shmison isn’t allowed to mention Obi-Wan Kenobi in public. He just never has, because even the sound of the man’s name makes him feel very nauseous, a combination of butterflies and adder snakes wrestling around inside his stomach.

Bail Organa is looking like he’s regretting that oversight right now, but Anakin has backed him quite solidly into a proverbial corner. Either finally tell everyone what happened between Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi in the last few hours of the Republic, or give Anakin Shmison leave to retrieve Kenobi.

“Fine,” Organa gets out, jaw locked and vein throbbing in his temple. Anakin has the distinct feeling he’se spent a lot of his life on the receiving end of that expression. “Have this X-Wing refueled, and leave tonight.”

“No sir,” Anakin says, enjoying the way one of the man’s eyebrows shoot up in angry incredulity.

“No?” Organa asks. “Would you like more beauty rest, perhaps, Shmison?”

“No sir, I don’t need it,” this time he doesn’t resist running a hand through his hair, messing with its part so his longer bangs fall to one side and balance out the mysterious scar that bisects his eyebrow. He grins. “But I will need a craft that sits two. For the return trip.”

#asks #i had a scene planned out where x y z happens and obi-wan lets anakin into his hut/home #and anakin is just like look im a part of the rebellion now!!#and obi-wan 'i use my sarcasm to hide my infinite sadness' is like #'yes im sure the rebellion wouldnt exist without you'#because you know. technically it wouldn't.#but anakin doesnt really get that context so hes like 'stop speaking in tongues old man!!!'#and obi-wan says 'please do not call me that' in the wateriest most loosely strung together voice anakins ever heard #anyways whats happening with me that all im writing is angst #i love happy things and happy endings #obikin #(because they'd get together come on anakin probably has an undercut now and hes thirty obi-wans only a man)#(the bitter resentment is strong but the flesh is WEAK BITCH)#kit to kit: u dont need another wip u really cannot have another wip ur not strong enough for another wip u--#prompt fill

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