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cherienymphe · 4 years ago

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None Of Your Concern (Chris Evans x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON(NON-CON?), AGE GAP, CHEATING(?)

DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: costars for a little over a year, Chris has always been protective of you in the cutthroat industry much like a father would be. However, when he learns that your boyfriend is even older than him, he realizes that his feelings might not be so familial after all

“Okay, so it’s sort of cool that a small chunk of the Avengers gang is reunited for this movie,” the interviewer said with a chuckle.

You all joined in, in agreement. She rested her blue eyes on you.

“I know that you were a huge fan of the franchise, Y/N. I mean, over the years there have been quite a few tweets from you about the movies, ranging from…‘Spider-Man’s on team Iron-Man so therefore I am on team Iron-Man’ to ‘Scott Lang deserves the world’,” she said, reading from her phone.

Tom got a huge kick out of that first one, and you rolled your eyes. The interviewer’s eyes flickered between you two, a small smile on her lips.

“I mean, am I wrong? Does Scott Lang not deserve the world?”

She nodded with a grin.

“No, you’re right, he definitely does! I just feel like being cast in this movie and having been on the set for a little over a year must have been something like a dream come true,” she pressed.

You thought about your answer for a moment, just like your publicist advised.

“Yeah, you could say that. It’s sort of surreal going from having been kind of a casual fan of someone to interacting with them almost every day for a year,” you honestly answered.

You didn’t know if you would ever get used to interviews, no matter how private they were. You were grateful you weren’t on Jimmy Fallon or something with a live audience watching your every move, but sitting next to Tom, Anthony, Sebastian, Chris, and Tessa in a room was almost just as bad in your eyes.

“…and you’ve gotten super close with your castmates, I’d say.”

You heard Tessa clear her throat, and when you caught her eye, she gave you a look, but you didn’t understand it.

“Yeah, definitely! I love them all and they’ve easily become some of my closest friends now,” you replied, eyes meeting the interviewer’s again.

She threw you a secretive smile.

“…but you and Tom seem to hang out together more than the rest of the cast. As thick as thieves some would say,” she pressed.

Your lips parted, caught off guard, and when you caught Tessa’s eye again, you recognized the sympathetic look she was giving you. A light bulb seemed to go off in your head as you realized what she was trying to warn you against earlier, the very thing you’d unknowingly walked into. Luckily, Tom jumped in before you did.

“Well,” he started, straightening in his seat, shoulder brushing your own. “Y/N and I are the youngest members of the main cast. We don’t really have much in common with the senior citizens to my left.”

He feigned a whisper during the last part, not so discreetly pointing to his left. It had the desired effect, and you were grateful that he was trying to draw the attention away from you.

“Um,” Tessa loudly began, straightening up in her seat just as Anthony, Chris, and Sebastian all spoke up at once.

“I think what he means to say is we don’t allow the children to eat at the adult’s table,” Anthony threw in.

“Yeah, its definitely more like we exclude them, and they have no choice but to hang out together,” Sebastian joked.

“Senior citizens,” Chris scoffed, cutting his eyes at Tom.

The interviewer laughed at the turn of events, but unfortunately, she was determined to expose whatever she thought was going on between you and Tom.

“So you two are rather close then? Being alienated and all,” she chuckled.

Tom laughed, albeit a bit uncomfortably as it became clear that she wasn’t going to give up. He nudged you, gesturing for you to take the stand, having already tried to steer her in another direction.

“Well…yes, but we’re all rather close, but yeah. I would say that Tom is kind of like my best friend,” you honestly told her.

She aw’d at that, tilting her head to the side. You cut your eyes to everyone else in the room, narrowing them as it became clear that they weren’t going to help the two of you get out of this. You just knew Anthony was enjoying this…

“Just friends then? Because you two have a lot of fans, and a lot of them seem to think there’s more to the friendship, or at least, they hope there is, and honestly? Who can blame them? You two are always spotted hanging out together, going for coffee, running to Target… You’re practically joined at the hip.”

As she came outright and said it, you both wasted no time in refuting it.

“Oh, God no,” you cried, shaking your head.

“No, no, absolutely not,” Tom laughed. “Y/N and I are simply good friends. She has much better taste than I do, hence why I have to drag her to Target. Besides, we don’t have Target back home, so whenever I’m in the states, I’m going shopping there every chance I get.”

“I don’t know, I think they answered that just a little too quickly for me,” Tessa suddenly wondered aloud.

You threw her a look of betrayal as Chris added on.

“Yeah, that…that wasn’t convincing, at all,” he said in between chuckles.

You gaped at him as Tom ran his hand through his hair.

“No, Y/N and I are just friends, and nothing more. She-she has a boyfriend, anyway,” he threw out, and you playfully hit his arm.

“Tom,” you warned.

You weren’t genuinely upset that he’d let that slip, especially since you didn’t exactly care if people knew. People knowing you had a boyfriend wasn’t the cause of your apprehension. It came from certain details about your boyfriend…

“Wait, you have a boyfriend?”

Four people said several variations of this at the same time, and you cringed. Tom at least looked a bit ashamed as the interviewer watch on in amusement.

“I didn’t say any names,” he defended, hands up.

You caught Anthony’s eye and he was looking at you like you’d just hid the world’s biggest secret. Tessa looked scandalized as well, and you didn’t dare look at Chris and Sebastian.

“Wait…wait a minute,” the interviewer said, sitting up in her own chair as she looked at you two.

There was a slow smirk forming on her lips.

“So…you have a boyfriend that nobody else seems to know about…except for Tom…”

You both froze, realizing how this looked. A few chuckles reached your ears, and you exhaled.

“Okay, I know how this looks…”

“It isn’t like that, at all,” Tom reiterated. “He’s a swell chap, no, really. He’s brilliant-.”

“You’ve met him then?”

“Well, yeah-.”

“Wait, wait, wait. So how come you’ve met this ‘boyfriend’ and none of us have?” Anthony wondered.

“Yeah, this sounds like a bit of a cover,” the interviewer added.

“Not a very convincing one,” Sebastian whispered.

“Okay, okay! I know that I’m not super talkative about it, but have we all forgotten that I have a girlfriend?”

That seemed to quiet everyone down.

“…besides, her boyfriend is like forty anyway, so its definitely not me,” he laughed, realizing too late what he’d said.

“Tom!” you cried.

Both of his hands were covering his mouth, eyes wide as all hell broke loose. You blinked several times, mouth agape in shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tessa yelled over the others.

“Forty?”

Sebastian, Chris, and Anthony were all talking over each other, all of their questions directed at you while you just stared at Tom who stared back, pleading. He slid his hands down, teeth bared as shame filled his features, cringing.

“I’m so, so, so sorry…”

His apology was overshadowed by Sebastian.

“Forty?” he repeated.

“Tom’s exaggerating, okay? He’s more like thirty,” you quickly said, trying to ease the tension and make light of the situation.

Tom’s eyes were wide as they met yours, and you quickly looked away.

“So, the boyfriend isn’t Tom…and he’s only thirty then?” the interviewer finally spoke up when the room was finally quiet once again.

You sighed, eyes meeting Tom’s again as he looked to see what you were going to do. You thought about what your publicist would advise. You’d been a part of stan twitter once. You knew how the internet could be. They’d dig until they found out the truth, and discovering his actual age, and identity by extension, would be pretty bad for both of you. Against your better judgement, you decided to be truthful since the cat was out of the bag, hoping it’d be enough to keep people’s curiosity at bay.

“No, he’s definitely 43,” you quietly admitted.

Once again, all hell broke loose.

As soon as the interview was over, you were the first one out of the room, Tom right behind you. You could hear your name being called, and Tom pushed you along.

“Go, go, go,” he urged.

You had just made it to your dressing room when a muscular arm slid between the door and the frame as you attempted to close it.

“Anthony, not now!”

“No, no, now.”

He pushed the door open, and you denied him entrance, two familiar faces behind him. Neither him, Sebastian, or Chris looked pleased with you, and you just knew that they weren’t going to let this go…not without a fight. Tessa passed by, and you sent her a pleading look.

She heaved a sigh, slowing down before reaching out to pull them all back.

“C’mon guys. Leave the poor girl alone,” she said.

“We just want to talk,” Sebastian said.

It was a lie.

“I’m not discussing this with you,” you told them, eyes meeting Chris’. “Any of you.”

You tried to ignore his frown as you closed and locked the door. With a sigh, you dug through your purse for your phone. You texted Alex, your boyfriend, warning him of what might make it into the article. You weren’t actually upset about the turn of events, you just hated the aftermath that would ensue.

You blamed the interviewer most of all. You knew that Tom was just trying to clear the air and make it known that there wasn’t anything going on between you two. You knew how flustered he could get sometimes when he started rambling, and you also texted him to let him know that everything was fine, and you weren’t mad.

Your main concern was the trio down the hall. Tessa felt like an older sister at times, and while you wish that it had been on your terms, you weren’t opposed to talking to her about this. You knew the conversation was going to happen eventually. Anthony, Sebastian, and Chris on the other hand were a completely different matter.

You stuck your head out, glancing around before leaving the room.

Your friendship with Seb was way more casual than with the other two. You cracked jokes and hung out with all of them often, but half the time it felt like Chris and Anthony were scolding you and telling you what you could or couldn’t do. Sebastian didn’t care, and you liked that. Hence why you didn’t verbally oppose when he suddenly came out of nowhere, easily falling into stride with you.

He didn’t say anything for a while, but you knew it was coming. You bit your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing that he was doing the same. He abruptly stopped, and so did you.

“Forty-three?”

You avoided his piercing gaze, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as he faced you.

“Seb…please…”

“I mean, I’m not judging, I promise,” he said, hands raised.

“Except, you are though,” you sighed, looking at him. “You’re judging, just a little bit.”

His arms fell at his sides.

“Okay, so I’m judging just a little bit, but can you blame me? The guy’s older than Anthony,” he scoffed.

You chuckled.

“Yeah, he is, but I don’t care,” you told him.

“Clearly. I’m just saying, he’s old enough to be your father,” he said.

“Well, it’s a good thing he’s not, because then that would be weird,” you threw at him, rolling your eyes.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and somehow, you got the feeling that he’d drawn the short straw on who was going to come and talk sense into you. You briefly glanced down the hall, brows furrowed. He placed his hands on your shoulders, and you hated how he was looking at you. Like you were a child doing something bad. Your jaw clenched.

“I know you’re an adult…”

You let out a humorless chuckle.

“Do you know who you sound like, right now?”

He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“At the risk of sounding like Chris…”

“You sound like Chris, that’s who you sound like.”

“…this industry can be…ruthless,” he continued.

“Don’t I know it?” you sarcastically replied.

“…and you’re still so fresh and new and there are plenty of people just looking to take advantage of someone like you and your talent and potential…”

“My boyfriend isn’t one of them, okay? He has plenty of talent on his own,” you informed him.

Sebastian tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing.

“What his name, anyway?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you slowly sang.

“Well…what does he do?”

“Again, none of your business.”

“How did you meet? How long have you been seeing him? Something, anything! Anything at all?”

You pursed your lips before releasing a soft sigh.

“We’ve been seeing each other for about 7 months now,” you admitted.

His eyes almost bugged out of his head, lips parting.

“7 months?”

You pulled away from him, the day finally getting to you.

“Look, Seb, I have to go. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you guys, but to be honest, this was the main reason why, so…”

You paused, facing him again.

“Please, tell Chris and Anthony not to worry, okay? I know they’re freaking the fuck out and probably sent you on their behalf. I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder as you exited the building.

When you got home, there was a slew of text messages awaiting you. Most were from Anthony, and you answered all of them as best as you could. He was just worried, and you definitely understood that, but he was freaking out more than your own mother had when you told her about Alex.

“It just…took me by surprise,” was the first thing he said when he picked up the phone.

“I know, I know,” you sighed, browsing your fridge for something to eat. “I was always going to tell you guys if it ever got more serious.”

“More serious?” he scoffed. “Seb said you guys have been dating for 7 months.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We clearly have different definitions of a serious relationship,” you mumbled.

“It’s just concerning, alright? If my kid was dating someone 20 years older than them, I’d be rightfully concerned,” he defended. “Especially considering I’ve never met this man and don’t know anything about him.”

“Look at the word you just used: kid. That is something I am not,” you said, slamming your fridge shut. “…and there’s no need to meet him.”

“I disagree.”

“That’s fine,” you tersely replied.

You heard him exhale on the other end, a tense silence falling between you two. You were being a little harsh, you knew that, especially considering Anthony always treated you like family, but you needed to make him, all of them, understand that you were an adult who could make her own decisions. They had no say in this.

“…you heard from Chris?” he eventually asked.

“No, actually, and that’s a little worrisome, I’m not going to lie,” you honestly added, running your eyes over your wine collection.

“Yeah, well, he’s not happy,” Anthony told you.

“If he’s going to pout about this like my personal dating choices offended him or something, then he can suck my ass.”

A laugh met you from the other end, a genuine laugh, and you cracked a smile.

“He’ll come around. You know how much you mean to him,” he finally said after he calmed down.

You did know. Chris was one of the first people to talk to you on set, trying to make you feel more comfortable. It was your first big movie, your first time starring with household names, with people that had way more experience than you. He got you to laugh on your first day and even dragged you over to meet everyone else. He’d taken you under his wing…

Your heart clenched as you thought about how he must feel. It was your business, sure, but you couldn’t pretend like you didn’t feel guilty. You felt even worse once you thought about the fact that you’d told Tom and not him, but Tom didn’t judge you. Tom didn’t treat you like some kid who didn’t know any better half the time.

“I’ll text him,” you told Anthony. “See if I can get him to accept my white flag…”

“You do that. See you tomorrow, kiddo.”

You texted Chris as soon as you hung up, and as the night wore on, your worry grew. You found yourself periodically checking your phone for any type of response, but you got nothing. Alex called though and talked with you until you fell asleep. He was overseas, filming in his home country at the moment, but he called you every day.

He wasn’t bothered at all by what might be in the article, only making sure that you were okay.

“Yeah…I’m okay,” you quietly replied.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound it,” he quietly replied, deep voice gruff.

You frowned before turning to look at your clock.

“Isn’t it like…3 in the morning over there?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he lightly said, ignoring your own.

You sighed.

“I’m fine, really. It’s just…there was a reason I didn’t want to tell everyone, and some people are proving me right…”

“They’ll come around,” he assured.

“You know Seb isn’t the type to care too much, but even he was more judgmental than I expected. Anthony is slowly coming around, but Chris… He’s not answering any of my texts.”

He was quiet for a while before finally responding.

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

You frowned again, sitting up in bed.

“What do you mean?”

“He is a bit…overprotective of you, isn’t he? I know he just gets concerned, but sometimes he acts like he’s your father and…he’s not. He shouldn’t have any say in what you do,” he elaborated.

You rubbed your eyes.

“I know what you’re saying is true because I’ve thought it myself, but for some reason it sounds harsh coming from your lips,” you groaned.

He chuckled.

“I don’t mean for it to, I promise. I just mean that maybe this will force him to lighten up a bit and realize that there are boundaries and lines he shouldn’t cross…”

You blinked.

“Huh. You might be onto something,” you admitted. “I know he thinks I’m such a child sometimes. Maybe this will make him wake up.”

You didn’t stay on the phone for much longer, and your heart sank when you hung up only to see no new notifications. Was Chris ignoring you? With a huff, you plugged your phone up and settled into bed.

You sipped on the coffee Tom had gotten you on the way here, leaning against the wall as you watched Chris and Anthony talk to the interviewer. This one preferred to talk to a few of you at a time, and considering the disaster that happened a week ago, you quite liked that.

That pushy girl had indeed included the bit about your love life in the article. Fortunately, it was tastefully done, only mentioning it in passing, but she had included that the rest of the cast, sans Tom, had been none the wiser. You hadn’t checked to see what people were saying about it. It wasn’t their opinions that mattered to you.

Chris hadn’t talked to you since, ignoring every one of your messages. Eventually, you gave up, deciding that he’d talk to you whenever he was ready. At first you were angry once you realized what he was doing, but eventually you became more understanding. He was probably more hurt than anything that you hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him.

You perked up when you heard the mention of your name.

“So, word on the street is that Y/N does indeed have a beau and it’s not Tom Holland…” he started.

Chris and Anthony chuckled, but you could tell it was forced.

“Yeah, man, I don’t think anyone was more shocked about that one than their fans,” he laughed. “…but we all know they’re just good friends. It was a nice running joke for a while though.”

Chris didn’t say anything, and the interviewer continued.

“Speaking of shocked, is it true that the rest of you guys were completely in the dark about it? I read that the ball was actually dropped during the interview. I mean, how awkward that must’ve been…”

Chris exhaled.

“Yeah…it was definitely something. It made my day though.”

Your jaw ticked as you realized that he was putting on a front.

“…and is it true that he’s 43? I mean, I’ll definitely ask Y/N this later on-.”

“Then it’d probably be best if she answered that,” Anthony interrupted, and you mentally thanked him.

“Well…the secret’s out, right?” Chris laughed, and you frowned. “Yeah, she says he’s 43.”

Your frown deepened.

“That’d be like dating one of you guys, I’d imagine, but at least it’ll be easy for him to get on well with you guys. You all are rather close with Y/N, so that must be of some importance to her,” the interviewer replied.

“I don’t know about that one considering we found out with the rest of the world,” Chris joked, but you saw right through it. “I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t know though because…”

He suddenly trailed off, letting out a low ‘whew’. He shook his head.

“No. I never would have allowed it.”

Your jaw dropped, staring at him like he’d grown a second head as the words registered within your mind. You didn’t even hear the rest of what was said as you backed up. You almost bumped into Tessa, and she steadied you.

“Woah,” she said. “You okay?”

“No, actually,” you slowly replied, turning to face her. “I’m not.”

You found that it was true. Your stomach churned and you felt like you were going to vomit any moment. The audacity of him!

“I…I have to go,” you told her.

You let your publicist know that you were feeling ill, and you waved bye to Tom on the way out, his brows furrowed in confusion as he hesitantly waved back. You fought tears the entire way to your apartment, shaking your head in disbelief. Never mind the fact that Chris has said that, but the fact that he’d confidently said it in front of other people.

“Never would have allowed it?” you mumbled to yourself.

You were gripping the wheel so hard you were sure it would break. As you furiously got out of your car, you thought to yourself that you didn’t even care if he texted you back or not. You weren’t in the mood to even look at his face, let alone talk to him.

After you showered and poured yourself a glass of wine, you curled up on your couch, staring at the tv…but not watching it. Chris’ words kept replaying, and you wondered how he could even fix his mouth to say such a thing. He wasn’t your father! There wasn’t a damn thing in the world he could forbid you to do.

And before you knew it, you had downed two more glasses and that was exactly what you were texting him. You were certain your thumbs would crack the screen with how furiously you were typing. When you were done, you turned your phone off, slamming it on the table as you returned your gaze to the tv.

It was hours later when you heard a knock on your door. You briefly wondered who it was, but you had suspicions that it was probably Tom. You’d left in such a hurry, and your phone was off, so he was probably coming to check on you. With a buzz coursing through your veins, you pulled the door open, only for your face to drop when your eyes connected with blue ones…not brown.

He didn’t exactly look thrilled to see you either, and you were certain that your face was no different. You pursed your lips, going through a pros and cons checklist of letting him in before scoffing. You swung the door open wider before turning your back on him. You heard him close it, his feet following yours into the kitchen.

You didn’t spare him a glance as you poured yourself another glass, taking up residence on the other side of the small island. Eventually, when he didn’t say anything, you looked up at him, a frown on your face.

“Are you actually going to say something? Or just stand there and stare at me?”

Chris heaved a sigh, resting one hand on the counter while the other found a home on his hip. He stared you down, jaw ticking beneath his beard.

“You’re upset with me…”

“I wonder what makes you think that?” you mumbled into your glass.

“…but I’m upset with you too.”

“Yeah, well, at least my anger is valid,” you spat.

“…and mine isn’t?” he threw back.

You huffed, glancing away from him.

“If you’re upset that I didn’t tell you, then I’m sorry. I mean that. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you or anything, but you have to understand why I didn’t say anything. Look at how you’re reacting,” you said, gesturing to him.

His nostrils flared.

“What does a man like that have in common with someone like you anyway?”

You jutted out your hip, resting your hand on it as you stared him down.

“Someone could easily ask you the same thing. What, I can be friends with you, Anthony, and Sebastian despite the age difference, but I can’t date someone who’s the same age as you?”

“It’s a bit different. We are your friends, we look out for you, we are not trying to…”

He swallowed his words, seeming like he couldn’t even bear to say it. You smirked at him.

“So I can choose my friends, but I can’t choose who I fuck?”

He glared at you.

“I mean…that is what you’re saying, right?”

“You can choose someone who’s acceptable…”

“…and who are you to say he’s not acceptable?” you demanded, offended on Alex’s behalf. “You don’t even know him.”

He made himself at home, taking a seat as he stared at you, hands folded on the counter.

“So tell me about him then…”

You heaved a long sigh, leaning against the sink as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“He’s…sweet,” you started, pressing your hands to your eyes. “Oh my God, he’s so sweet, Chris. You’d get along great with him. He’s funny, he loves dogs, and he has the biggest and kindest family you’ll ever meet. He’s filming overseas, right now-.”

“So he’s an actor,” Chris interrupted, sounding displeased.

“Yes. He calls me every night…,” you trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable.

“You told Anthony that it wasn’t serious…”

You looked down.

“I really like him, okay? That’s why I don’t care what you guys think. I’m not breaking up with him just because you don’t approve,” you said, eyes meeting his again. “You’re not my father, and you can’t tell me what to do.”

“No, I’m not your father, and I’m sure as hell glad for that, but someone definitely needs to be…”

“Screw you, Chris,” you murmured.

He glared at you, and you fought back tears, surprised at how much this was hurting your feelings.

“I don’t understand why you’re so mad about this! Why are you treating me like I can’t make my own decisions?”

“Because I think you’re making bad ones,” he answered, rising and heading towards the door.

You balled your hands into fists as he made his way out.

You spun away from Tessa, a thin layer of sweat clinging to your skin. Today was the last day of filming, and the crew members were hosting a party. You’d almost let Chris’ sour attitude ruin it for you, but Tessa convinced you to come.

She’d arrived at your apartment early in the morning, fed up with your sulking. You told her about your argument with Chris, and she listened while you ranted about his behavior. You talked with her about Alex too, eager to tell her everything. Talking to Tom about him was nice and all, but it was different with Tessa.

She comprehended why you had never said anything about your relationship, far more understanding than Chris or even Anthony had been. She made you feel a lot better about the whole situation and assured you that Chris would get over it. He hadn’t spoken to you the entire time you’d been here, so you didn’t know about that.

It pained you to think that your friendship with him could end just like that over something so insignificant as to who you were dating, something that didn’t affect his life in the slightest. You stumbled away from Tessa, realizing that you’d had more to drink than you thought. You touched her arm.

“Hey, I’m gonna head inside. Try to rest my nerves for a bit…”

“Okay,” she said. “Hurry back when you feel better.”

“K.”

You trudged your way inside of the huge house, heading straight for the kitchen. You filled a glass with water from the sink, emptying it in no time. You were ready to go for another when movement from your left caught your eye.

You looked over your shoulder, pausing when your gaze connected with that of Chris’. He didn’t look like he was having fun, and your shoulders sagged.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

You eyed him, almost sadly, before swallowing. You nodded, forgetting the glass of water and opting to follow him instead. You stumbled a few times, alcohol coursing through your system, but thankfully Chris didn’t notice.

You followed him into a guest bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as he turned on the light. He was dressed plainly in jeans and a dark tee, a darker cardigan hugging his arms and shoulders. He rested his hands on his hips in that Captain America way you often teased him about, and you fought a smile.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually breathed.

You blinked at him, the alcohol making it hard to process what he said.

“You’re…sorry?”

Your voice was small and unsure, and his face crumbled as he moved to sit beside you.

“You’re right. I can’t tell you who you can or can’t date. I shouldn’t have said what I said in that interview,” he admitted.

You let out a soft chuckle.

“No…you shouldn’t have. I was so…embarrassed when you said that Chris,” you said, looking at him.

“I know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to make you feel that way. I thought I was upset because you hid it from me, but…”

You eyed him, waiting for him to continue. His gaze met yours.

“I don’t have any rights to your dating life, but…I want to,” he slowly replied.

You frowned at him, and he continued.

“I care about you…”

“I know. I care about you too,” you told him in the quiet room.

“I’m attracted to you, Y/N,” he confessed, making your eyes widen. “I always have been.”

Your lips parted, surprise and confusion filling you.

“I told myself from the beginning that my feelings were innocent, that I was just looking out for you. I convinced myself that my anger at your relationship came from a place of concern…but that isn’t true.”

“Chris…”

“Somewhere down the line, in the back of my mind, I had accepted that anything between us would be inappropriate. That you’d be repulsed…and then, come to find out, your boyfriend is even older than me.”

He chuckled, finding some warped humor in it all.

“I felt cheated. I felt like that could be me…like that should be me…”

You didn’t know what to say. You’d have to be blind to deny that Chris was handsome. He was one of the most sought-after men in America, but your feelings had been fleeting…shallow. You thought Anthony and Sebastian and Tom were handsome too, but in an appreciative sort of way. That was how you saw Chris too.

“I’m…with Alex. You know that…”

He took your hands, scooting closer.

“…but could that have been me? Tell me the truth,” he pleaded.

“I…I don’t know-.”

“I think you do. I think you thought like I thought and pushed any desires out of your mind.”

Your mind was fuzzy, too much alcohol in your system to fully process this conversation. You moved to stand, but he held you in place.

“Chris, I think I should go…”

You trailed off when his lips met yours, and you jerked back, eyes wide.

“I have a boyfriend, you know that…”

“You haven’t answered my question,” he told you.

“I…I don’t know! But it doesn’t matter because I am with someone!”

“…and that someone could have been me.”

“But it’s not, so-.”

He kissed you again, wrapping his arms around you. You reached in between your bodies, pressing the palms of your hands against his chest. He moved back, but he brought you with him. He rolled you over until you were beneath him, and you made a noise of protest deep in your throat.

“Chris,” you mumbled into his lips, pushing against him again.

He was smooth in reaching under your dress to take hold of your underwear, pulling them down your legs with ease. You opened your mouth to protest again, but all that came out was a gasp when his hand slid between your thighs.

You shook in his arms as he played between your legs, fingers ghosting over you and prodding you until he was able to slide them into your soaking lips. A choked moan climbed out of your throat, and he hummed as his lips trailed down your chin, peppering kisses along your neck.

Your body felt light, limbs numb as you heard him fooling around with his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. You knew what was about to happen. Your brain was screaming at you, but you couldn’t move. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol or shock, but you were powerless to stop him.

You reached out to place your hands on his when he parted your legs, and you didn’t know if it was to pull his hands away…or not. You caught a glimpse of him as he settled between your legs, stomach sinking as you blinked at the sight of him…bare…for you.

“Chris,” you mumbled, unsure of what you were going to say.

It didn’t matter, anyway. His lips were covering yours as he pressed the head of his cock against your folds, prodding and prolonging the inevitable. You thought about Alex, and that sobered you up a bit, but it was too late.

You threw your head back against the mattress, nails digging into Chris’ hands as he thrust inside of you. The noise that escaped him was orgasmic, the deep sound causing you to clench around his length. He hissed at that before completely leaning over you, forearms pressed into the mattress beside your head as he started to move.

Shallow breaths left your lips as he pumped into you, the squelching sound of his retreat and entry reaching your ears. Your eyes were unfocused, hands coming up to rest on his sides as you started to moan. He joined you, bending his head to kiss you again and again.

There were odd brief moments at the start of filming where you idly wondered what it would be like to kiss Chris. You never imagined that you’d find out for sure. Then when you and Alex happened, you’d left those girlish and embarrassing fantasies behind. His lips were soft and sweet with the taste of whatever drink he’d had, and he moved them over yours with so much expertise it made your head spin.

“That feel good?” he breathlessly wondered, jerking his hips into yours.

You gave a shaky nod.

“U-uh-huh,” you gasped, clenching around him.

“God, you’re so beautiful… You know that?” he mumbled, kissing you again.

Your toes flexed, stomach clenching as well.

“I thought about you all last night,” he quietly professed. “I thought about your lips and these fucking thighs and how it’d feel to be in between them…”

“Chris,” you whined.

“You’re so tight,” he hissed in your ear. “Tighter than I’d imagined you’d be.”

One of your hands traveled to his back, bunching up his shirt and sweater.

“Chris,” you gasped, breath hitching. “Chris, I think…”

Your words died on your tongue as you moaned, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer. He groaned against your skin, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“You gonna come for me?”

You gave a jerky nod, tightening your grip on him. He hissed when you clenched around him again, blue eyes boring into your own.

“Yeah? You’re fucking choking my cock. A greedy little thing,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off of yours. “Come on, baby. Show me what I do to you…”

You shook in his arms as your climax rushed over you, legs trembling and eyes rolling as you clenched around him again and again. He wasn’t done, fucking you through it until you were an incoherent mess beneath him.

You never did rejoin Tessa on the dance floor.

tags: @harryspet @coconutqueen21 @readermia @nickyl316h

#Dark Fic #Dark fics #dark!chris evans #chris evans x reader #dark chris evans #dark chris evans x reader

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rocorambles · 4 years ago

Text

It's Always Been You

Pairing: Semi x Reader

Genre: SFW, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff (I swear it’s more fluff than hurt/comfort), Getting together

Summary: You’ve always known Semi was your first choice. Now you just need to convince HIM that it’s true. Easier said than done.

Prompt: “When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?”

A/N: This is my contribution for the HQHQ SFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Also this is an AU where the boy’s and girl’s volleyball teams practice in the same gym. Just go with it. LOL Please and thank you.) Thank you for beta-ing @sawamooora~

There’s a certain sense of pride and anxiety that comes from being accepted to Shiratorizawa as a student athlete. Pride from knowing your athletic prowess has been recognized as being at least notable. Anxiety from not knowing if that’s all it’ll amount to, talent that’s forced to remain seated on a bench as other, even more capable athletes surpass and outrank you. But as wide-eyed first years, Semi and you don’t feel that full weight yet, not as you watch and learn from your senpais in awe, and it’s that curiosity, that love for the sport that brings you two together.

Semi’s always been on the quieter side, but when he sees you in the corner of the girl’s side of the gym all by yourself, practicing setting a volleyball against the wall, recognizing you as a fellow newbie from his class, he takes his chance. It’s an easy friendship, one that easily crosses from the court, to the classroom, to after school study sessions and hangouts. And even though it sucks to still be set aside on the bench, left to cheer on your upperclassmen while the both of you hone your skills, it brings both of you comfort that you’re not alone, that you have someone else cheering you on, growing and improving right alongside you.

It’s hard work trying to stand out among all the hopeful first years at Shiratorizawa, but the endless hours of hard work and encouragement you give each other, the shouts to keep on going, the careful bandaging of each other’s fingers before and after grueling practices, it all pays off. The two of you proudly stand side by side in your second year as your parents snap a photo of both of you donning your brand new team uniforms, marking you as starting players.

The adrenaline of the cheering audience, the exhilaration of being in a real game, it’s everything both of you have wished for and more. But through the excitement, a nagging worry tugs at Semi as he watches the new rookie setter, Shirabu Kenjirou, from afar.

There’s nothing wrong with Shirabu. He’s a smart kid, albeit a little short tempered and rude at times, but aren’t they all in high school? But it’s not his attitude, not even his shitty haircut that bothers Semi. It’s the ease with which he connects with the rest of the team, the natural skill and talent he possesses, the way Coach Washijou stares at the younger male with interest, that has Semi striving harder, his desire to stand out and prove himself only hindering him and the team more.

And reality comes crashing down around him one day as a shrill whistle jars him from his razor sharp focus, the paddle with his number being held up by Shirabu making his heart drop to his stomach as he’s subbed out, face heating with humiliation and embarrassment as his teammates eagerly high five and clap the younger setter on the court, welcoming him into the game.

Just like that, he’s been replaced.

It hurts, but he knows it’s to be expected. He had seen it coming, and acknowledges that it’s the better decision for the team. But that doesn’t make it sting any less. And he watches with steely eyes at how effortlessly Shirabu melds in with the team, the ball easily and smoothly connecting.

He thinks this is the worst of the heartache, vowing that he’ll just work harder, at least be a useful pinch server. He’ll be the best setter he can when he’s needed. But what he isn’t expecting is the lancing stab to his heart when he sees you rush over to Shirabu after the match is over, the way you’re practically bouncing on the soles of your feet as you fawn over the younger setter, congratulating him on his first game, complimenting him on a job well done, not even sparing a glance in his direction. In your defense, you do make your way towards him eventually, but he can feel the pity in your eyes, the way you approach him as if he’s a wounded animal, and he slaps your hand away before it can come in contact with his arms, storming off, leaving you gaping in his wake.

The situation was poorly handled and he knows he owes an apology at minimum, but those words get stuck in his throat when he spies you chatting one-on-one with Shirabu at practice the next day while the boy’s and girl’s teams share the same gym. It’s vaguely reminiscent of watching a horror film and despite the way he freezes, heart clenching, Semi can’t tear his eyes away as you demonstrate some setting techniques and drills to Shirabu. And when your bandaged fingers carefully wrap around the younger male’s forearms to adjust his posture, Semi rushes off, unable to bear watching how once again, he’s become irrelevant.

He wonders— hopes that it’s just a one off thing, that things will return to how they once were. But they don’t, and he watches as Shirabu and you laugh and joke, high fiving and cheering each other on as you help one another practice, time and time again. He tries his best to ignore it, gritting his teeth and using more strength than necessary in his practice serves, brushing off the concerned questions from even usually stoic Ushijima. But it all comes to a head when Shirabu is absent from practice one day and you cheerfully walk up to him like no time has passed, like you hadn’t turned around and instantly betrayed him for a better version of himself, grinning as you ask him to practice with you.

There’s a sick satisfaction in how quickly your smile disappears, the flash of hurt in your eyes when he sneers at you, thanking you for “gracing him with your presence”.

“Glad you could find it in yourself to make some time for me. Thought you’d skip out on practice to take care of your little boyfriend.”

“What-”

The whole gym stares at both of you as his harsh voice echoes throughout the area.

“When will I be someone’s first choice? Tell me, when?!”

Semi and you don’t talk to each other for the rest of that year, although not for quite the same reasons.

For Semi, it’s a completely burned bridge and, as good as seeing you feel some of the same pain he feels is, there’s an emptiness inside of him as he goes home that night. The belief that he’s ruined everything between the two of you heavily weighs inside of him.

For you, it’s a medley of hurt, shock, and confusion. You give Semi the time he needs to cool off, give yourself the time and space to ponder and think into the late and early hours of each night, wondering where everything went wrong.

Shirabu? Boyfriend? How could Semi possibly even believe that?

Being an upperclassman means mentorship and guidance. So when Shirabu had come up to you one day after he became the boy’s team’s starting setter, you had graciously offered up some tips, let him know that you’d practice with him if you were free, encouraged him. You had missed your easy banters with Semi, missed how in sync and in tune with each other you were. But how could you turn away an underclassman in need?

Yet, the more you think about it, the more you really try and understand Semi’s perspective, guilt gnaws at you, clawing at your heart.

Had you meant to neglect your closest friend? An emphatic no.

Could you see why he had felt abandoned? ...A begrudging maybe laced with remorse.

Do you want him back in your life? A resounding yes.

You know it’ll be hard work to regain Semi’s trust, know he has a stubbornness that’s hard to crack — especially when it’s been hot glued together by seeming betrayal. But you’re just as determined, just as headstrong, and to both the dismay and amusement of both your teams and classmates, you twirl together in a chaotic dance.

To say he’s caught off guard when you knock on his door one morning to walk with him to school is an understatement, but when realization comes crashing down on him, he scowls, and his parents watch while shaking their heads and hiding a laugh as you scramble to keep up with him while he pointedly ignores you and speed walks a few steps ahead of you.

His mom points out to his father the way their son slows down just the tiniest bit when you stumble in your haste to catch up.

Ushijima watches in uncomfortable confusion as you sit with them at lunch, plopping down in the empty seat beside Semi, chatting away at your old friend despite the way Semi resolutely stays silent, not even sparing you a glance.

But if the ace notices the way Semi doesn’t snap at you or pull his bento box from you as you grab a piece of fish Semi’s mom had cooked, he doesn’t say anything.

Shirabu pouts when you completely bypass him, fondly ruffling his hair as you stride towards Semi, volleyball in hand at practice. And both your teams watch in exasperation and fascination at the unintentional comedy show the two of you provide as you waddle after Semi like a baby duck following its mother, quacking your head off and never giving up even though Semi pretends he doesn’t see you in the corner of his eyes, mimicking every drill he does.

Coach Washijo and your coach wonder if they should slap both of you on the heads for this madness, but when they observe the way Semi painstakingly slows down and exaggerates his form when you struggle with an exercise, they roll their eyes, turning their attention to the other players lounging around.

Yet as amusing as it is, all shows must come to an end and your grand finale arrives with the devastating loss against Karasuno, the chances of going to Nationals again ruined just like that for the third-years.

Even for you, a bystander in the audience, just another spectator in the crowd, it’s a hard pill to swallow. Unshed tears glisten in your eyes when you see the years of hard work they’ve all put into the sport go down the drain, the slump of Semi’s shoulders as they walk off the court. You can’t even begin to imagine how the players themselves are feeling, don’t know a single word you could say to make this alright. Yet your legs are sprinting, wobbling and shaking in their frantic need to comfort your long-time friend, to try and soothe him, to tell him how proud you are of him, how this doesn’t change how you think and feel about him.

It’s more than a little awkward, panting to catch your breath as the entire dejected team stares at your sudden appearance in confusion. But Tendou’s always been a little quicker, a little sharper than the rest, and he grins, practically shoving Semi in your direction, playfully waving farewell at both of you before slamming the locker room doors shut before Semi can process what’s happened.

There’s a tense silence as you try and wrap your suddenly dry mouth around words.

“I’m sorry for your loss-”

You jolt at the cold scoff, the way Semi quickly spins on his heel, set on re-entering the locker rooms, turning his back on you.

“I don’t want to hear that from you. Go comfort your little boyfriend. I’m sure our star setter would eat those sweet words right up-”

“SHUT UP!”

This time it’s Semi’s turn to clamp his mouth shut in shock, hesitantly turning around, eyes wide as you storm towards him, jabbing your index finger into his chest.

“I swear to God, if you mention Shirabu’s name one more time while I’m talking to you, I’m going to muzzle you until you can’t say ANYTHING.”

(If either of you hear Tendou’s giggle from behind the closed doors, neither of you mention it.)

“I came to talk to YOU because I miss YOU. I like YOU. And if you could take just a minute to get your head out of your ass, you’d know that you’ve always been and always will be my first choice.”

Your chest is heaving, blood rushing in your ears from the exertion of your passion. But the reality of your accidental confession comes crashing down around you and your face heats in embarrassment, heart plummeting at the way Semi just gapes at you, speechless. You turn to rush away, mortification triggering your flight response. But a gentle, but firm tug on the hem of your shirt keeps you still.

You brace yourself for the rejection you know is coming, nervously turning around, slowly lifting your head to meet Semi’s gaze. But your heart flutters at the hope and disbelief in his eyes.

“But I thought...You and Shirabu- OW!”

You roll your eyes, a satisfied smirk on your face at the way he gingerly rubs his head, shooting you an accusing look.

“I did warn you about mentioning him, didn’t I?”

But before he can open his mouth to retort, you gently peck him on the cheek, giggling at the flabbergasted and stunned expression on his face, cooing at the faint blush that radiates across his skin.

“Hurry up and get your things. You owe me a popsicle for being such an ass this past year.”

There’s a lot more cheering and celebration in the locker room than there should be for a team that’s just lost their shot at Nationals as Semi re-enters the space, his already packed bag (courtesy of Ushijima) shoved into his arms by a gleeful red-head.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #semi x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader

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sirthisisa-wendys · 4 years ago

Text

The Sacrifice Part 3: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: everything is just out of reach.

wc: 1.7k

tw: none (semi-smut will be coming soon! I just wanted a soft moment for our little protagonist who has been through so much)

masterlist

You have until sundown.

Without Geto or Gojo around, things are quiet. No one comes to visit. It’s just you, Clymentestra, Helen, Serena, Danai, and Ariadne wandering around or making small talk in the alcoves of the Temple, while you wait for the sun to sink below the sky and bring you immortality. The Temple... That’s what you decided to call it. Cly called it something like “The Everlasting Residence of His Holiness, Geto Suguru, The Dragon God of blah blah blah...”, but saying “the Temple” was much easier for you and your brain to handle.

You discovered the following interesting rooms in your snooping session earlier: a set of bathrooms that were exactly identical to each other on opposite ends of a hallway, a room filled to the brim with books that you couldn’t read, a locked door that lead to a dungeon (you suspected), and another room filled with portraits of beings you didn’t know. Well, except Megumi. Megumi was in there, looking just like he did when you met him the day before. Boring.

Now, you’re just waiting on someone to come and find you to tell you that Geto is back, or that lunch is ready. Whichever comes first. But as you wait, thoughts of your impending transfer from mortal to immortal cloud your mind. Would every day be like this? Gossip with the others, wait for Geto to command you around, then sleep?

Is that what eternal life held for you?

Your train of thought is carried away on the wind when you see something blue and green winding its way down from the sky and into the field in front of the temple, followed by a white dragon.

Gojo… and…? You consider running down to the field to greet them, but your feet won’t move. Clymenestra doesn’t come to fetch you, so it’s not an urgent matter, you assume. Or she’s keeping you hidden, your mind whispers, and you remember the interaction from the day before:

“Don’t go blabbing your mouth to your stupid father, either. Geto would prefer to keep her under wraps for now.”

Did this have anything to do with your lack of immortality? And why is Geto so hell-bent on you becoming immortal, anyway? You ponder upon all of this as you toss open the doors to your chambers and walk down the left hallway, towards the dining hall. On the way there, you pass the locked door again, and for a moment, you press your ear to the wood to see if you can hear anything inside.

Nothing.

You straighten up, then enter the dining hall moments later, coming face to face with Gojo, who is sitting across from a pink-haired youth. “Oh,” Gojo stands, and smiles tightly, his eyes darting to the doors behind you. “Wrong room, darling. The kitchen is back there,” he prods, pushing you out of the dining room quickly and into the corridor to the kitchen, the youth’s eyes following you.

“Gojo, I have a ques--”

“Can it wait? Listen, you’re not supposed to be out of your rooms right now. And where the hell is Cly?” he hisses, looking about with a raised brow.

“Who is that in the dining room?”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Gojo retorts tersely, removing his hand from your arm. “You need to stay in your rooms until Geto comes back. If he knows Yuji saw you, he’d be--”

“Can you at least tell me why Geto wants me to become immortal so badly?”

“No!” Gojo yells, staring at you intensely. “It’s enough that Megumi knows about you. Just do as I say or both of our asses will get hung out to dry, got it?” You shrink away from the angry man and brush past him to go back to your rooms immediately. When you sit on your bed and examine your bruised arm, you wonder why everyone is so secretive. It’s possible that you would glean more information upon your turn from human into immortal, but you can’t wait that long.

Or at least, you don’t want to.

But you’re forced to.

Lunch doesn’t come for another three hours, and by that time, you’ve lost any semblance of an appetite. So when Serena sits the offerings down in front of you, you just turn away and watch the sea tide roll in and out, like the thoughts rolling in and out of your mind.

“Where’s Cly?” you ask, and Selene inhales deeply.

“She’s away. The God of Death has called upon her.” You spin around in your seat, frowning deeply.

“She’s dying?”

“No,” Serena wipes her shaking green hands on her dress, and looks away from you. “His Omnipresence calls upon her from time to time for… entertainment.” By the looks of Serena’s expression, you don’t want to know what she means by that word, nor do you want to ask any further questions.

“Why does Geto allow this?” you whisper, but Serena bites her lip.

“He doesn’t know.” That’s all you need to hear. You turn back around, feeling your emotions stir inside of your stomach. “You should eat something before the ceremony,” she adds, but you shake your head.

“I’m not hungry.”

You fall asleep in that chair, only awakening when you’re lightly tapped on the shoulder by someone behind you. When you look up, you meet the soft eyes of Clymenestra, and you wonder how she’s doing before releasing she’s holding a red and gold robe in her hands.

“Get dressed and meet me in the hallway,” she whispers in the semi-darkness. You take the garment and she leaves the room silently, allowing you to disrobe in private. Once you’re redressed, you exit your room and meet Cly in the hallway.

As you follow her to an unknown destination, your heart pounds wildly in your chest, and you can feel nervousness gnawing away at your resolve. Could you back out of this? Or was it too late? All answers pointed to “too late” as your feet make contact with the warm sand of the beach behind the Temple. There, gathered in the sand, are Geto, Gojo, and the other four women.

Geto is half-clothed and holding a piece of parchment paper - only his lower body is covered in solid black kun pants, but his chest is covered in black swirls and symbols that you can’t decipher. Gojo is dressed similarly, his chest smeared in silver paint, and you wonder what everything stands for. But your curiosity is short-lived when your back is to the sea and Cly is standing behind Gojo, her eyes trained on you.

“Y/n, you were brought to my realm as a sacrifice, but you have accepted my offering of eternal life,” Geto begins, holding up the parchment and reading from it slowly. “As Dragon God and head of all things in this realm, I bequeath this gift to you.” He then hands you the parchment paper, and you accept it tentatively, wondering what to do next.

“Read it,” Gojo coughs, and your mouth dries up. When you look to Cly for help, she presses her lips together and nods at you, encouraging you to go on.

But you can’t.

“I can’t read,” you croak softly, but it’s too soft, as evidenced by Geto’s confused face.

“I’m sorry. Say that again, y/n.”

“I…” You inhale shakily. “I can’t read.” Everyone’s face goes from confusion to understanding, then trepidation.

“You… can’t read?” Gojo murmurs and Geto blinks in shock.

“Then she can’t…” Cly whispers back.

“The ceremony will be postponed,” Geto announces and takes the parchment from you. “We will have to teach you how to read first.”

_____________________________________________________________

Shame accompanies you as you sit on your bed and watch the others eat. Your body, however, wants to close in on itself and disappear. Food is the last thing on your mind right now.

“My cousin never learned how to read,” Ariadne mentions, pulling her fish apart, and other women echo her sentiments. You know they’re trying to be kind, but it doesn’t achieve the effect they desire at all. It just makes you feel even dumber than before.

Your door swings open a moment later, and Cly walks in, followed by Geto.

“Ladies, His Holiness is requesting the room.” The other women vanish in a mess of giggles and murmurs, leaving you and Geto alone as Clymenestra closes the doors. Geto strolls about in your room for what feels like ages until he stops in front of you in the bed.

“I did not know you couldn’t read.”

“No one does, your Holiness,” you reply, looking to your hands in your lap.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he offers and holds up a book in his right hand. You watch him approach the bed carefully, then sit on the edge, his long black locks obscuring his facial features as he flips through the tome. “I’ll start coming by every evening to help you learn. Clymenestra has offered to help you learn how to write during the day. That way, you’re learning both at the same time.”

“Your Holiness, you are too ki--” Geto places his hand on your leg, looking up at you with his bottomless onyx eyes. You’re stunned into silence by his look - which isn’t one of pity. It’s one of compassion and kindness, and you can’t help but notice how handsome he looks in the flickering lamplight.

“Y/n, it is my duty and my honor to help you in this way. You returned something very precious to me, and I think it is only right to give you something just as timeless.”

“Did you get an answer from the Rain God?” you ask, and Geto drops his eyes.

“Yuta is displeased with your city for many reasons. He has demanded to speak with you personally about atonement, which is another reason why it is imperative for you to become immortal as soon as possible.”

“And the first reason why…?”

“I cannot answer that right now,” Geto whispers, and then opens the book again, shifting it so you could see the pages. “We should try this one. I like this story; it’s about a mermaid named Mija and a starfish named Nuri.”

You finger the gold-lettered pages carefully, feeling the smooth foil underneath your fingers, and Geto places your finger on the first word, holding your hand gently.

“Once”; the second word: “upon”; the third: “a”; the final word: “time”.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @nostaren @sunfloweroranges @jibe-gajima @jotazinha @brownskinnedgirll @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something @kontentious @missbonekitty @fyotituti @honouredsatoru @sandyscastle @flare-on @sashimeh @ggotgame

#jujutsu kaisen getou #getou x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #getou suguru #getou suguru x reader

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years ago

Text

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3

Bundy

Cult girl gets some unbelievable news.

Trigger warnings: death, emotional manipulation, discussion of cult leaders Koresh, Jones as well as Ted Bundy

"Who the fuck are you, and what the shit are you doing with my dead cousin's phone?" You said, the slam of the car door audible from the speaker.

"Cheerio to you too, [F/N]." Anna answered.

You brought the phone to your chest to muffle the speaker and heaved a sigh.

"It's fucking Anna." You told Hannibal as he climbed into the car.

He buckled his seatbelt. "Put it on speaker."

You pressed the speaker button. "Froot Loops. Why do you have Theresa's phone?"

"Don't you remember?" She asked. "I took it when she died. Hers had a much better camera than my old one. I thought I told you to update that in your contacts?"

"Oh yeah, I do remember that." You nodded. "The body wasn't even cold and you'd already gotten to grave-robbing."

"Hey, that's my sister you're talking about." Anna snapped. "Show a little respect."

You rolled your eyes so far back into your skull you could practically see your brain cells dying. "Why are you calling, Anna? I'm fairly fucking certain I told both you and grandma to never speak to me again."

"Well, grandma won't be doing much speaking anymore." Anna snapped. "Because she's dead."

You sighed. It wasn’t the first time you heard those words, and it was never true. Faking her death was the hammer in her gaslighter toolkit. Meaning that the desired outcome could be produced just as effectively using a combination of other tools, but none were as efficient as a good old-fashioned bashing. The first time, you went through the whole five stages in ten minutes to really sell that you felt something other than relief at her passing. This time, you didn’t have the energy.

“Did somebody finally strangle her to death?” You asked. “Shame, I would have liked to do it myself.”

“Are you so completely void of human emotion that you can’t even pretend to be sad?” Anna shouted.

“No, because I think this is another one of her manipulations.” You explained. “She probably roped you in thinking I’d believe it if it came out of your mouth. But the joke’s on her, because you’ve been her puppet since preschool.”

“You really are something else, [F/N].” Her voice wobbled, as if on the verge of tears. “The woman who raised us had a stroke and died. That’s not a manipulation, it’s the truth!”

You began to consider the possibility that Anna wasn’t lying. Your voice took on a more solemn tone as you resigned to give her the benefit of the doubt. "A stroke, huh?"

"She died in the hospital." She said, softly.

There was real emotion in her voice. You thought back to that high school production of Legally Blonde, which proved that she was not skilled enough at acting to fake it.

You sighed. The crushing realization that you may very well have been the jerk in this conversation hit you. "So, what now?"

"I know better than to ask you to help out with the funeral." She said. "You didn't come to Theresa's, after all."

The reason you gave for not going to Theresa's funeral was schoolwork. It was a flimsy excuse, but hid your real reasons well enough. Those were much touchier. You couldn't bear the thought of listening to people lie and embellish stories of your cousin's positive influences on people's lives. But you also couldn't bear the fact that at least some of it wouldn't be lies.

You were the one that killed her. Your fiancé chopped up her body and served it to your friends for dinner. Theresa was a sociopath, a narcissist, and plenty other highlights in the DSM-5, but the pain she left after her death was real. It was the most real thing about her. You weren't desensitized enough to face that.

"Good call." You answered, flatly.

"Liam and I will be flying out tomorrow night." She said. "I know I'm in no position to be asking for favors, but if you could come pick us up from the airport-"

"Sure." You answered with a nod. You didn't know what exactly you were agreeing to as you did. Anna's words were just dissipating into the air, hardly reaching your ears.

"Thanks." She said, as emotionlessly as you. That was perhaps the most mutual understanding you'd ever achieved with Anna. And it only lasted a couple of seconds.

That was about as natural a conclusion to the conversation as you could have hoped for, so you hung up.

Hannibal pulled into the driveway and turned off the car. "What are you thinking, love?"

You leaned your head against the window and looked up at the few visible stars. "I've spent so many years wishing her dead and now that it's finally happening, I don't know what to feel."

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, knowing exactly how to keep you grounded when your mind started to wander off. You rested your head on his shoulder and closed your eyes. He kissed you on the head.

"I thought her dying meant I never had to think about her again." You shrugged. "But now I'm thinking about her and hating every minute of it. And that probably means I loved her. Which is terrifying to think about."

"You think about Jim Jones and David Koresh quite a bit, don't you?" Hannibal asked, squeezing you tight. "Do you love them?"

You shook your head. "That's different. That's academic curiosity."

"But why do we remember them?" Hannibal posited, stroking your arm. "Is it reverence?"

"It's to learn." You answered. "To make sure history doesn't repeat itself."

"Death isn't a sacred thing, my love." He whispered. "Don't feel bad for remembering her as cruel. That's what she was. Don't let anyone forget it."

You chuckled. "Did you know that when Ted Bundy died, a bunch of people near the prison shut their breakers off so the electrocution would be more painful?"

"Interesting." He said, referring less to the fact itself and more to the reason why it came to mind when it did.

"That is to say, I don't actually feel bad that she's dead." You clarified. "I feel bad because I know I should and I don't."

Hannibal pulled you into his arms and placed a kiss on your forehead. "I thought after four blissful years together, you would know you don't have to pretend around me."

You lowered your head. "I guess I'm just scared that if I take off my person suit around you, I'll never be able to put it back on."

"You never need to worry about that, my love." He assured you. “I know it’s scary, but all it takes is a little practice.”

“In that case,” You felt a smile creeping onto your face, so you let it. “I think we should celebrate.”

"Well that can be arranged." Hannibal rolled your hair. "With a bottle of Cava in my office."

You felt a laugh coming on, but it just came out as an ugly wheeze. "That is so unethical. I would love to."

"No," He corrected, opening the driver's side door. "It would be unethical to empty a bottle of wine down that pretty throat of yours without a little food."

"It's the middle of the night, Hanni." You objected, though the rumbling of your stomach told a different story. You slammed the car door shut.

Hannibal smiled to himself, disregarding your protests entirely. "Foie gras au torchon, with a bit of brioche, perhaps?"

"Well that sounds like a proper celebration." You grinned, tightening your grip on your clutch excitedly. “Do you mind if I get cleaned up?”

“Of course not, love, take your time.” Hannibal said, releasing you from his embrace.

You headed towards the house, a little extra spring in your step.

“Oh, [F/N]?” He called out after you.

You looked over your shoulder. “Yeah?”

“That thing you said about Ted Bundy.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry to tell you, but that’s a myth.”

You frowned, feeling kind of stupid. “Shit. I really wanted it to be true.”

Hannibal smiled, reassuringly. “But hundreds of people still celebrated his death.”

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal nbc #cult girl #cult girl 2 #tw death #tw emotional abuse #true crime #i guess?

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haravath0t · 4 years ago

Text

Peace of Mind and Heart

Pairing: Wakanda!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: an adorable Bucky, Bucky finally being a happy boi, fluff!

Word Count: 2.6K (oops)

A/N: @lookiamtrying MINA! My lovely Sammy! Thank you thank you for requesting this in! FINALLY THIS IS OUT! Gahhh I knew right off the bat that I would love writing this for you and good ol’ Bucket! Our Bucky deserves so much happiness, especially with reader! Ahhh! There are so many ways to go about all of this, but I hope you like this one! I got too carried away 😂Happy reading, everyone!

Request: For a sweet drabble can I request Wakanda!Bucky preparing to propose to reader? He’s finally found some peace and it’s because of her and he gets all nervous thinking she might say no. Ooohh maybe he proposes to her at sunset like the second gif? Okaaay thank you.

*Italics indicate flashbacks!

A big, shaky sigh leaves Bucky’s lips as he sits within the comfort of his hut, twisting the velvet box around with his fingers. He could not help the nervousness that was flowing through his veins as his flesh thumb pried the box open, showing the wonderful engagement ring that he had picked out alongside Steve. Little to your knowledge, Bucky had been carrying this for a while now, finding the right ways to propose, but with no idea coming to his head.

“Mr. Barnes, Y/N said that she will come over with dinner for you both in ten minutes.” One of the Dora Milaje notifies him, walking away from his hut when she sees him nod in acknowledgement, muttering a small thank you.

He can’t help but recall the day he first laid his eyes on you. He remembered how you were struggling to speak to the locals in the market as he was buying his plums. He recalled the uncharacteristic action of him stepping in and helping you out, you getting extremely shy and embarrassed as you said thank you. He remembered how you said that you came here for work, that you were new, and trying to make your way around Romania before you started. He remembered the smile that had kissed his lips from the similarity of the situation of you both.

“I came here for a fresh start too,” He replied, causing you to look up at him in surprise.

“Really? You don’t sound like it, though. Your Romanian sounds amazing!” You compliment, causing the brooding super soldier to have a light pink tint on his cheeks. “Oh. I think I just do pretty good at hiding in the crowd, that’s all.” He answers quietly with a shrug. That made way for a nice conversation between you both, one that didn’t require much work. You kept talking until you realized you had to return to your place. “How can I repay you, though? You practically helped me with my grocery shopping at that rate.” You ask, truly feeling ashamed at your lack of knowledge of Romanian, or Romania in general.

“Maybe by being a friend?”

“C-coffee, maybe? At the cafe down the block? At 9 tomorrow morning?” He offers, shyly, “I’ll pay!” You smile even more and nod in approval. “Yes… I… I didn’t catch your name.” He realized that too.

“Ummm… Bucky… I’m Bucky…”

You smile.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats, with a smile once again forming on his face. It was a truly beautiful name that matched you. “Would you care if I walked you back? There’s some pickpockets around here in Bucharest, you have to be careful.” You agreed it was for the best, having had that experience before. Not that long later, you had finally arrived at your apartment. “That’s funny,” Bucky remarks quietly, making you look up at him in curiosity. “What?”

“I guess I just met my neighbor” He chuckles quietly, motioning to his door that was across the hall. This only made you smile even more.

“Well, gee… Glad that we are friends, neighbor.”

He was scared that he was a burden to you. You had always come to check up on him if you heard him have nightmares. You invited him over to your place during those nights, stayed up with him, cooked you both a midnight snack, and let him take his time to talk to you about what was on his mind. The closer you two got, you even let him sleep in the spare bedroom in your place. Unbeknownst to you both, the friendly gesture only caused him to fall for you and the characteristics of you that made you. He adored you for your gentility, your kindness, your playful nature, your wit, and so much more. You didn’t waver when you found Captain America in the front of your neighbor’s door.

“Y/N, listen to me,” he says swinging his backpack over his arm. “You’re in danger. You gotta leave.” “Bucky… your hand…. What…” He looked almost ashamed and worried over your reaction. “I’ll explain if I can, but not now.” Is what he responds before looking at Steve. “Wait for me at our cafe tomorrow, if you want. If I see that you’re there, I’ll know the answer.” Is the last thing he says for the day before chaos erupted.

By the next day, you managed to pack whatever you could in your little apartment, waiting in the cafe. You were about to leave until you saw a tall blond, in a cap and jacket approaching you. “Y/N L/N?” He asks. It was Captain America again. “Yes?”

“I’m afraid Buck can’t be present with you right now. I don’t think it’s safe for you to be here, since you’re associated with him. The Avengers can offer you a place to stay, a new place to work, if you’d like. You can talk to Buck before you make that decision if you want.”

You never agreed to anything so fast. You were worried more than angry and afraid. Even though you put two and two together and remembered that he was the Winter Soldier. Steve had told you along the way as he was helping you with your baggage, further confirming your theory. You couldn’t help but understand the immense pain and trauma that he was facing for so long.

“You must be disgusted by me now.” You looked away from the quinjet’s window to look over at the wounded brunet next to you with wide eyes, shaking your head as you grabbed a moist towel to wipe off some of the blood that remained on his skin. “Scared? Yes… Doubtful? Yes… but to be repulsed by you? No.”

“If it made you scared, doubtful, all that… What made you wanna stay around?

That’s true… What made you stay?

“Maybe because I knew that it’s not the guy that I met at the market. I met Bucky Barnes that day.” You start off, upset because that was clearly not summing up the way your heart raced and leapt at his presence this whole time. It didn’t sum up the way you dreamt about that simple, gentle blue-eyed brunet man. You shakily inhaled and exhaled.

“Maybe because I feel… I feel something more than a friend should feel.”

He looks up at you, in shock and denial, shaking his head. “Y-You. You feel it too, huh?” You nod. He groaned and let out a tiny smile. “Why do I gotta fall in love with a gal like you. You can do better than me, YN.”

“I don’t want better, Buck. I want you. I want those late nights. I wanna comfort you. I wanna watch movies with you. I wanna have breakfast with you. I want all that. I don’t want that to stay in Romania. Don’t you see that?”

His dirtied flesh hand cups your cheek as if it’s like glass: careful and with care. His eyes were meeting yours, the end of his lips curling up in a little smile. “I’m telling you, Y/N. I… I think once you say yes to this, we’re basically asking you to leave that old life behind, ya know? I don’t wanna keep that from you-”

“That’s the point you’re not getting, Buck. I want this to work. I want to try. Especially since I now know we are on the same page.”

Bucky couldn’t help the small chuckle that left his once blood-stained lips. He admired that stubbornness of yours. He even saw Steve chuckle at this from the other side of the quinjet. Never did he ever think your cute stubbornness to things would be directed to staying with him.

“But this is something new-”

“Yes it is. It’s new to us both. I’m willing, Buck. I’ll learn. Maybe I can be somehow a helper of a sort, I don’t know how this Avengers thing works, but I’d wanna learn with you!”

And so you did. You didn’t waver even when they had made the decision to have him stay in Wakanda to recover. You kept to your word, staying alongside Natasha and Steve and training for self-defense. They found out that you worked in the medical field and you were happy that you were able to help when you could. That being said, you were so determined to help alongside Shuri with Bucky’s recovery. You always held a strong image that was quite the contrary to his current state.

Yet, deep down, he knew you didn’t do this to baby him, or because you pitied him. He knew it in his heart that you two did share a love for each other that was soft, unspoken, and steadfast. You both shared a stubborn desire to make this work no matter the unforeseen circumstances.

“Buck? I’m here! I brought dinner!” He heard you exclaim, his worries vanishing almost immediately as he got up from his bed, tucking the velvet box in his pocket before getting the blanket next to his bed and meeting your wonderful smile. “Hi, sweetheart,” He says, almost with relief as he instinctively exchanges a small kiss with you. “Hey, darling. Got the blanket I see! Here, I’ll lay it all out!”

There was a different air to this dinner. Something that made him feel like he was on Cloud 9. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe it was the fact that you brought cute accessories to match the aesthetic of the picnic blanket. Maybe it was because you cooked both of your favorite meals for tonight. Could it be because he was loving your excitement as you told him the new things that you had learned while you were apart? Could it be the fact that the sky had never been so beautiful as it set? Maybe it was because he was able to imagine this life with you. Maybe it’s because every time you two met up to catch up, he’d always imagine what it was like to be able to experience your radiant glow for decades to come. Maybe it’s because today he was much more appreciative of the growth of your relationship. It seemed right to pop out the question, but his thoughts stopped him. Maybe she’s waiting for the right moment to back out. Maybe he hasn’t done anything yet to make you go away. Maybe you’ll think that you were impulsive on your decision to be with him.

“Maybe she’ll say no… maybe it’s not the right time, Steve. What if she doesn’t want me at all?” He sighs, looking at the beautiful diamond ring that he had handpicked for you. “Oh, nonsense, Buck,” Steve replies as he looks at the goats in the pasture “I think if anything, she’d be over the moon about it. I have a feeling you’ll know when the time is right.”

“You think so?”

“Sure, I do. I see the way you two look at each other. Sounds like you both are always in your little world. It’s cute. Everyone can see it. You have a soft spot for her, and she has a soft spot for you. She even plans what to do when you both meet up.” Bucky’s eyebrows raise. “She really… does that?” A chuckle leaves Steve’s lips as he nods and fiddles with his fingers. “Of course. Trust me, I’ve waited too long to do something that you’re planning on doing. Know that you deserve this. The time is gonna come where you are dying to ask her. I know she’ll say yes.”

“You’re thinking about something, aren’t you?”

“Huh?” He asks, snapping out of his thoughts, making you smile and shake your head. “What’s on your mind sweetheart?” You question softly, subconsciously playing with his dark locks with your delicate fingers.

Boy, did Steve’s words ring so true at this moment.

He adored how the sunlight made your complexion look almost golden. Your hair was blowing softly in the wind, framing your beautifully shaped face. Your kind smile was knocking his lungs out. It was nicely paired with the beautiful body of water that was in front of you both. Once again, he felt like he was in paradise.

“You.” He whispers, smiling as he instinctively leans to your touch, watching you as you’re caught by surprise. “What about me?” you ask as your cheeks slowly heat up at his simple response. “Everythin’ about you sweetheart. From the time we met at the market, the quinjet, everything.” He says, tears welling up in his eyes as the amount of love that he’s received from you hits him full force. As if it was a wave, growing bigger and bigger as his memories of you both flash before his eyes. “I wanna keep feelin’ this way. No one does these things for me, no one is willing to stay for this long. Everyone fears me. Not you. You didn’t waver, Y/N. You stayed.” He whispers, voice cracking at the thought.

Tears managed to fall down your face, nuzzling your nose with his. “You gave me a sense of peace that I haven’t felt in decades, sweetheart.” He sniffs, allowing himself to feel you, allowing his feelings to take control. “You make me feel like I can be Bucky. Even if I’m figuring it out, I know you’re helping me a whole lot. Can’t believe I got a wonderful gal like you, Y/N.” You cried even harder, proud of how far you two have come, no ounce of regret towards your decision. “I’m glad you were stubborn to want to try, because I want to try for you too, Y/N. I wanna keep being this way with you, where we both find peace. Imagine that huh? One day, we can have a little house, with our children… whether it be actual kids, plants, animals, you name it.” He whispers into your lips, running his hands through your hair, loving the feel of you.

“Maybe we can get that cat you’ve mentioned wanting to have too,” you giggle softly and breathily with a smile as you scoot closer to him. “Yeah, maybe we can. We can have picnics, movie nights. Oh, doll. That’s the dream, isn’t it?” “Buck, you have no idea how much I think of that. When this is over, I’d love to do just that.” You whisper with confidence, tears continuing to fall as you both bask in that fantasy. “I love you, YN,”

“I love you too, Buck… so so much.”

“Then, will you marry me?”

Wait.

You looked up at him in shock, gasping at the realization of the fact that he proposed to you. You barely registered that his hand was no longer in your hair, but instead, on a velvet box with a beautiful diamond ring that shone brightly against the sunset. You cried even harder and nodded, heart racing fast. “Yes, Buck… yes. Yes!” You wail, watching as his hand carefully slipped the ring into your ring finger. His smile reciprocated yours, beaming as he cried tears of joy and relief as you tightly embraced him, peppering his face with kisses. You pulled back a bit, admiring the brunet once again, happy that he looked as peaceful as you felt, for now, you two were one step closer to achieving a paradise of your own.

“Let’s try, Buck. I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper before your lips lock with his, burying themselves once again in his hair. You two could feel each other’s happiness in the kiss through your smiles. You two have reached Cloud 9 once again.

“For you, sweetheart? I’m gonna give you my all.”

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Main Masterlist

#mcu #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes scenario #buckybarnesxreader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #bucky Barnes x reader drabble #bucky barnes drabble #wakanda!bucky #wakanda!bucky x reader #fandom basurero fics #peace of mind and heart

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lilyofthesword-writes · 4 years ago

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Anomaly (Haldir Oneshot)

Summary: Haldir meets you, a member of the Fellowship seeking passage through Lothlorien. Though not a fan of humans, he is curious about you.

Pairing: Haldir x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,111

Warnings/Disclaimers: A curse word. Some violence due to the Battle of Hornburg/Helm’s Deep and Minas Tirith. Injury, mentions of blood.

A/N: This is told more from Haldir’s perspective. Based off another weird dream I had. Threw in a bit of the book as well. Really wanted to get this out cuz my boi needs more love.

Masterlist

Haldir gazed at you from afar while he was on watch that evening. You were... peculiar to him. When he came across the Fellowship trying to pass through the Golden Wood, he never expected to find a human woman in their midst. The world of man was an anomaly to him despite his numerous interactions over hundreds of years. Human women were not granted the same rights and privileges as the men, a foreign to him. This was not the way of Elven culture. Meeting you there was refreshing in a way.

In conversing with Aragorn, he learned you were a soldier of Gondor who had traveled alongside Boromir and joined the Fellowship. You were a fierce warrior but kept a calm air about you. The few human female fighters he had come across, be it on purpose or part of their nature, generally overcompensated, feeling the need to prove themselves constantly. You did not. When the Marchwarden and his company initially surrounded the Fellowship, everyone drew their weapons, ready for the next challenge. You opted to place your hands on Frodo’s and Sam’s shoulders to calm them while Merry and Pippin stood at either side. Instead of fear or anger, Haldir saw an analytical curiosity gleaming in your eyes.

Even now as he kept you in his peripheral, your eyes held a certain light, a light not caused by reflecting the bright moon. It was a kind of serenity most humans rarely portrayed. It didn’t break even as pounding of ambitious orc feet hit the forest floor below. All you did was gently shift your arms that held two sleep-ridden hobbits.

Since the platforms amongst the trees were not large enough to contain both the Fellowship and Haldir’s party together, you had to be split apart. Aragorn kept you, Legolas, Frodo and Sam while Boromir, Gimli, Merry and Pippin rested on a neighboring platform. You had taken to the Hobbits just as much Boromir had, your arms wrapped around them with their heads resting on either shoulder. How you bonded with the curious creatures so well, Haldir would never know. You managed to bring a semblance of peace to their aching hearts, enough so they could rest. He could not imagine it was an easy feat considering all the Fellowship had been through. It made him wonder what Lady Galadriel would make of you.

Upon reaching Caras Galadhon, you practically vibrated with childish delight. Although you had been to Rivendell, you had never seen anything quite like the capital city, that much Haldir was certain. The corners of his mouth tugged into the faintest of smiles when he saw your elated face. He turned away to restore his stoic facade, but unknowingly caught the attention of another. Aragorn shot him a knowing smirk as their eyes met momentarily. Haldir said nothing and continued to lead the way up the stairs spiraling the ancient trees.

Up the stairs, across some bridges and the Fellowship was in the presence of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. Haldir bared witness to the interactions from the sidelines. He knew when Lady Galadriel entered each of their minds through their minute expressions. While most struggled to remain slightly neutral to her ministrations, others had a difficult time hiding their horror. You, on the other hand, parted your lips with an acute tilt of your head, not bothering to mask your wonder or amusement.

The meeting came to a close shortly after. Lady Galadriel’s gaze swept over the group, ultimately landing on you. Haldir knew she would call upon you later that evening. Until then, he was tasked with guiding the Fellowship to where they would be resting.

It was long after the others had gone to bed, after Frodo returned from the mirror, when Haldir learned he was correct. He spied you and Lady Galadriel wandering the halls, speaking softly amongst yourselves. What about, he could not say. He swiftly took the next pathway so as not to intrude on your private moment.

Marchwarden. Please come.

Always the obedient one, he turned himself around to join you both.

He greeted the pair of you with a bow.

“Marchwarden,” Lady Galadriel responded with a smile. “Would you be so kind as to escort our guest back to her company? The hour is late, and she deserves just as much rest as her friends.”

“Of course, my lady.”

Haldir held out his arm for you to take which you did after properly bidding Lady Galadriel a good night with a bow. He led you along the walkways, taking his time in doing so. This would more than likely be one of the few times he would be able to speak with you alone. The Fellowship would continue on their quest as soon as possible.

“These woods are truly a wonder. I have never experienced anything quite like it,” you started, breaking the quiet between you, voice so delicate it was hard to believe you were the warrior Aragorn made you out to be.

An agreeing hum quietly rumbled in his throat. “It is a gem of Middle Earth.”

“I must agree. I think I can understand your fierce desire to protect this place, your home.”

“I am sure you wish to protect Gondor just as much. Your dedication to the Fellowship is proof of that.”

“Despite the hardships,” you tried to hide the way you sucked in a breath, “I am glad to be a part of this. They have all become like family to me.”

Gandalf.

Hearing the grief lightly laced in your voice, Haldir stopped and pulled his arm away just enough to take your hand, turning to stand in front of you. With his free hand he cupped your cheek to catch the stray tear that had escaped your lashes. He was at a loss for words. Comforting others was not a skill commonly taught to Marchwardens. You caught his hand before he had a chance to think about retracting it, leaning into his touch. He closed the last bit of distance between you two and stroked the swell of your cheek with his thumb, your eyes shutting to bask in the moment.

An eternity or mere moments passed. Neither of you could tell by the time you finally spoke. “Thank you.”

The day your company was set to leave, Haldir felt a small pang in his heart. Why was he so bothered by your departure? He had only had the one major interaction with you. The rest of his time was spent either training or on patrol, and on patrol really meant him keeping an eye on the Fellowship. You just happened to be around when he took watch, or so he tried to convince himself.

He stood aside as Lady Galadriel offered her gifts to the travelers, giving them each something they would need or want. She bestowed on you a small Elven dagger, tiny enough to conceal in a boot with little discomfort. The Marchwarden, though content you had some extra to defend yourself with, hoped you would never need to use it.

Haldir then brought the Fellowship to the boats where everyone’s belongings were already packed and settled. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you while everyone said their proper farewells, but nothing stopped him from following down river to the borders. He and his troupe had orders to make sure you all reached them safely anyways.

Despite being hidden amongst the trees, it was like you knew he was there. Your head turned towards him as you passed the borders, not making eye contact but still unnervingly close to it. A tiny smile graced your lips before returning to the task at hand.

Helm’s Deep was not where the Marchwarden wanted to be, but he still had his orders. He was charged with leading an Elven army to help defend the kingdom of Rohan. Entering the gates, he was speaking with a perplexed King Théoden when what was left of your party rounded the corner. Your grin shone brightly in the dark when Aragorn surprised him with an embrace.

Haldir found himself both pleased and upset by your presence. While you looked to be in good health, he did not know your full battle prowess and as such was unsure how you would handle the soon-to-be battlefield. However, he never had the chance to voice his concerns as he needed to position his soldiers.

The rain poured when the standoff with the Orcs and Uruk-hai began, pinging off of helmets loudly. Haldir stood among his fellow Elves. Aragorn spread the rest of you out, sending you to the opposite end of Helm’s Deep where Haldir’s view was partially obscured. He could at least see you standing proudly alongside the other men. He could only imagine the fire in your eyes.

When the battle began, it raged with seemingly no good end in sight. A section of the wall had exploded with Aragorn near enough to be caught in the blast. Haldir could hear you bark your clear and concise orders to the men as you rushed to help Aragorn. Upon reaching his feet, Aragorn yelled out the order to retreat further in to better protect the caves the women and children were hiding in. Haldir belayed the orders in his native tongue to his soldiers.

He made sure the soldiers retreated but was unable to do so himself. Surrounded by the enemy on a high ledge, he slashed through them in an attempt to make a path for himself. His weariness had caught up with him as he was hit in the side with a jagged weapon.

“Marchwarden!”

He spun around as someone called him, ready to slice through his assailant. It fell to the ground as he faced it, revealing you with a now broken sword which you cast away. You stepped over the dead enemy to get a better look at him. Haldir clutched his side when you tried to check on his wound.

“How bad is it?”

“You should be retreating,” he tried to dodge the question.

“As should you,” you answered sternly, locking eyes with him. “Are you still able to keep moving?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We must go quickly.”

You reached out to help him when your breath hitched. You lurched towards him, grabbing his free arm to pull him forward, the motion catapulting you behind him. You ripped the dagger from your boot as you continued towards the Orc that had snuck up behind Haldir, and shoved it between the layers of its armor. In the creature’s last breath, it brought down its sword on your shoulder, forcing you to your knees.

Haldir rushed to your side, stabbing the Orc once more for good measure before shoving it off the ledge. He kneeled in front of you, clenching his jaw to ignore the pain in his side, and held you steady by your upper arms. Your eyes were glassing over while you desperately tried to keep your head up to look at him.

He called out your name. “We need to follow the others. Are you able to stand?”

You blinked a few times before hoarsely whispering, “I... I don’t... know.”

Your shoulder bled profusely as Haldir tried to help you stand. He took on most of your weight with your arm over his shoulder. You wouldn’t last much longer without a healer’s attention. Biting back his own pain, he practically carried you down the stairs to solid ground where Aragorn met you. He and what little was left of the soldiers who had not yet retreated formed around the two of you, furiously slicing at the Orcs and Uruk-hai that would stop you from reaching the main halls.

Soldiers who were protecting the doors ushered you inside immediately where Haldir brought you into the caves for the healers to watch over. One tried to make him sit momentarily to tend to his own injury, but he brushed them away. He could still continue. His ribs were probably bruised, if not broken, but his armor kept the damage from being life threatening. He promptly left to speak with Aragorn about the next plan of attack. He would be damned if he allowed any of those foul beings to pass into the caves to finish the job.

The battle was won, Gandalf having arrived with reinforcements right when they needed him most. When victory was assured, the Marchwarden wasted no time in returning to the caves where you lay unconscious. The healers bandaged you to the best of their abilities given the circumstances, and you were at least breathing steadily.

Much to the surprise of his fellow elves and your company, Haldir rarely left your side, even during the trek back to Edoras. He was still there when you woke safely in the Golden Halls of Meduseld.

Your eyes struggled to open as you stirred awake. “Wh-what happened?” Your voice was hoarse from sleep and lack of water.

“You were struck down, Mellon nin.” Haldir brushed a rogue strand of hair from your forehead and placed his hand on yours. “We were able to retreat to the caves.”

“And the battle?” Your arms shook as you tried to sit up and lean your weight on your good side. “The outcome?”

The Marchwarden tried to settle you back down, but you would not relent. “We were victorious. Gandalf arrived with reinforcements at dawn and drove the enemy out.”

You began to relax at that before another question flooded your mind. “What about-”

“Your friends are well,” he chuckled at your persistence. “They are preparing to leave for Isengard soon. Word has returned that it has fallen.”

Before you had a chance to ask another question, he helped you sit up the rest of the way so as not to aggravate your wound further with your stubbornness and handed you a glass of water. You drank it slowly despite your need to relinquish your thirst.

“Thank you.” You passed the glass back to him, your voice clearer now. “When do they leave?”

“Tomorrow morning, I believe,” Haldir answered and coaxed you to lay back down.

You nodded with a hum. “I suppose I should rest more, then. If there is a chance that Merry and Pippin are there and well, I would like to be there.”

“Mellon nin, your injury is not yet healed.”

“A mere shoulder wound will not prevent me from riding to Isengard,” you huffed.

“It is nothing to scoff at. Mellon nin, you almost died,” he pleaded with you, taking one of your hands in both of his.

“Haldir, I still have my duty to the Fellowship. I cannot abandon them.”

“Tending to your health is not abandoning anyone,” he spoke softly as he ran a thumb across your knuckles. “You will still be able to continue your quest when you have healed.”

You sighed deeply, looking to the ceiling as though collecting your thoughts. “I just... This is something I feel like I need to do.”

A deafening silence showered the room. Haldir studied you for a moment, your unencumbered hand fiddling with the sheets. Your mind was made up, and there was nothing he could do.

“Mellon nin,” he breathed, reaching for your face so you would look at him. “You will not let this go, will you?”

You shook your head with determined yet pleading eyes.

He squeezed your hand gently. “Then, I suppose all I can ask of you is to get your rest tonight.”

“Thank you.” With a smile, your thumb glided over his.

He made to stand so you could sleep in peace without him hovering. As he pulled his hand away, you gripped it tighter.

“Haldir? Will you stay? At least until I fall asleep? I am not sure I wish to be alone right now.”

Taken aback, he stood there dumbly before retaking his seat. “Of course, Mellon nin.”

The next morning, the remaining members of the Fellowship gathered at the stables. Aragorn was in the middle of trying to convince you to stay behind. Gandalf stood out of the way with Gimli, biting back a laugh at Aragorn’s futile efforts, while Haldir and Legolas prepared the horses.

“You will only worsen your injury,” Aragorn chided.

You folded your arms defiantly across your chest. “One trip on horseback is not so arduous.”

“She has already made up her mind, Aragorn. I doubt you will be able to change it,” Gandalf chimed in.

Haldir was tightening the saddle on the horse that would carry you so it was more secure when Legolas silently sidled up to him. “You have already said your peace, have you not?”

“What makes you say that?” Haldir twisted the saddle to test it.

“You have barely left her side since our victory. You must have spoken with her before now,” Legolas quipped.

“Indeed, I have.”

“Then, surely in your fondness of her you would have tried to convince her to stay behind.”

“Fondness?” Haldir stilled a moment before adjusting the straps again. “We are friends, Legolas. Nothing more.”

“Then why is it you have been meticulously preparing this one horse whilst I have already saddled three?” Legolas shot him a pointed smirk.

The Marchwarden felt himself flush all the way to the tips of his ears. “She is still injured. I- We cannot risk her hurting herself further.”

Legolas held his chuckle in his throat as a hum. “The sooner you stop attempting to fool yourself, Mellon-”

“Alright, you may join us!” Aragorn growled with a huff, stealing the attention of the bickering elves. “However, the moment a battle should arise, you are to return here.”

“Of course,” you complied, a stubborn edge to your voice.

Aragorn’s heavy sigh was littered with grit. “Are the horses ready?”

Haldir and Legolas nodded swiftly.

“Good. Let us be on our way.”

You made your way to the Marchwarden who was beckoning you over.

“Are you sure there is nothing I can do to change your mind, Mellon nin?” he asked softly.

“I am, yes.”

You flashed a smile at him before placing a foot in the stirrup. Haldir remained hovering near you. Your shoulder strained as you willed your arms to reach the saddle, steadying yourself as you pushed down on the stirrup to lift yourself up. Midway up, you lost your grip as your shoulder suddenly gave out. Haldir was quick to press a hand to your back to stop your fall. He noticed how your jaw tensed to grind out what was obviously the pain of your wound, but you were still determined to mount the horse.

“Here.” He gripped your waist. “I apologize if this seems forward.”

He raised you enough so you could swing your leg over the saddle, letting you go the moment you had your balance.

“N-not at all. Thank you.”

You held the reins tightly as you settled down, knuckles turning white like it could make everything better. Haldir felt his chest tighten and covered one of your hands with his own, eyes filled with concern. Your head snapped down to meet his gaze. With a reassuring yet forced smile, you attempted to relax your muscles to conceal just how much your injury hurt, but he saw right through it.

With a heavy sigh and shake of his head, he took hold of the saddle and hoisted himself up behind you.

“What are you-”

“If your pain is that severe, you shall not ride alone,” Haldir interrupted, finality in his tone.

“Haldir, this is not necessary,” you argued as he pulled the reins from your hands.

Legolas slinked by with Gimli on their horse, sending you two a knowing smile. The Marchwarden’s blush bled to his ears again. He didn’t notice your own flushed face.

Haldir cleared his throat. “Let us go before we fall behind.”

The journey to Isengard was quiet and uneventful. Partway through the trip, you finally allowed yourself to relax, not realizing you were leaning back into Haldir. Though bemused, he was not about to protest.

Collecting Merry and Pippin was as simple as it was amusing. They were most excited about reuniting with their companions. It was on the ride back that you and Haldir overheard their teasing about you sharing a horse. Aragorn and the others bit back grins and commentary of their own.

The festivities that followed upon returning to Edoras were no better, the ale at least partly to blame. The Marchwarden and what remained of his soldiers were settled near Legolas who was currently in the middle of a drinking match with Gimli. You had yet to arrive. Eowyn was the only reason Haldir was not at your side forcing you to rest. She tended to your shoulder, promising to return you for the celebration. He would have preferred you did not come for the sake of your health, but as long as you were not overexerting yourself again, he would not complain.

He swirled the ale in his mug after taking a swig, mulling over recent events. Usually he was not one to allow his emotions control his actions, and yet he was doing that much more often now. He felt like he couldn’t help himself. There was this overwhelming desire to keep you safe, keep you close, regardless of the fact that you were perfectly capable of handling yourself. Haldir had caught a glimpse of your abilities at Helm’s Deep. There was a reason you had gone to Rivendell with Boromir and joined the Fellowship.

As if to break him of his spiraling thoughts before they grew out of control, one of his neighboring elves nudged his arm, winking and motioning him to look up. He lifted his gaze, about to make a remark for the elf’s teasing, when he saw Eowyn stepping into the room with you close at her side.

The music, shouts, laughter - they all faded away from his ears. You practically radiated light despite your nervous self on display. Eowyn had lent you one of her dresses, the fabric draping differently on your frame from hers yet no less perfect. She caught Haldir’s gawking and whispered something in your ear with a smirk. You glanced up to see him but dipped your head back down to where your hair curtained your tiny, bashful smile. Eowyn was quick to tuck the offending hair behind your ear. She giggled and murmured to you again, resulting in your flustered rush to join your companions.

Haldir focused on his ale once again. The elf who had coaxed him into looking up bumped his arm. Without saying a word, he was fully encouraging his captain to go to you. The elves in his company had never seen their normally reserved, stoic Marchwarden act like this before, and they thought it a fantastic development. They all joined in pestering him to at least ask you for a dance. It took a while, but his stubbornness crumbled, and he brought himself to his feet only to notice you were missing from your company. He scanned the crowds, hoping to spot you. Maybe someone else had already asked you to dance. That theory was thankfully doused when he spied the swish of your dress through a door leading outside.

Following and stepping out into the cool night air, he found you leaning forward on the wooden railing, gazing up at the stars. Your hair sparkled under the dim light. He realized tonight was the first time he had seen you without it tied or braided back out of the way.

“Mellon nin,” Haldir called to you softly so as not to startle you. “Are you alright?”

You turned to see him just outside of the door and nodded with a tired smile. “Yes. I just felt I needed some fresh air and a moment away from the crowd.”

“I apologize for disturbing you. I will-”

“No!” You cut him off quickly. “I mean... You did not disturb anything. You can stay if you would like.”

The corners of Haldir’s lips tugged upwards ever so slightly as he approached you, joining you in your previous stargazing. The peaceful quiet of the night muffled the festivities in the building. He felt you cover his hand with your own accompanied by a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you, Haldir, for everything,” your voice was just above a whisper.

“I should be thanking you, Mellon nin,” he shook his head, his other hand coming to grasp yours. “If you had not come for me, I would not be at your side now.”

A breathy chuckle passed your lips. “I suppose we are even then.”

Haldir hummed questioningly.

“Had you not brought me with you whilst retreating, then I would not be at your side now.” You parroted the last words with a grin.

The Marchwarden’s shoulders shook with a quiet laughter. “I cannot argue against that.”

You set your free hand on top of your conjoined ones as you leaned against his shoulder. A comforting silence befell you both. That is until you heard chittering giggles from behind. The pair of you turned to see Merry and Pippin poking their heads from the doorway, followed by Aragorn who proceeded to drag them back inside and shot you a wink as he did so.

Gondor had called for aid. Rohan answered. The army’s camp was set up, and Aragorn had a plan. Haldir received orders for his company to continue helping Rohan and meet with Elrond to receive more explicit directions.

The morning for departure arrived, and Aragorn was set to travel to the Paths of the Dead. Legolas, Gimli, Haldir and you were to join him. Haldir’s soldiers were to follow King Théoden into battle. You all stood wearily at the start of the trail, feeling the ominous air seeping down to the bone.

Haldir brushed his hand against your elbow for your attention. “May I speak with you privately?”

You looked up at him with worried eyes and nodded, probably guessing what this was about. He pulled you to the side just out of earshot of the others.

He steeled himself with a deep breath. “I must insist you do not join us, Mellon nin.”

“But Haldir, I-”

“Please, Meleth nin,” he desperately pleaded, not meaning to let the new term of endearment slip. Tenderly cupping your face with both hands, he continued, “None of us know how this will end. We... We may not come back. I beg of you to please stay with Eowyn.”

His voice was hushed, afraid it would break if he attempted to speak any louder. He knew his emotions were on full display, but he could not bring himself to care. What mattered was keeping you safe.

“Haldir...” you trailed off, grasping at his wrists with the utmost care to keep them in place. You gave a quick nod and tried to conceal your worried frown. “Alright. However. You had better- You all had better return.”

He pressed his forehead to yours. “I will do everything in my power to do just that.”

The Marchwarden was among the Fellowship in Minas Tirith when he saw a barely conscious Eowyn being carried into the Houses of Healing. Panic coursed through his veins. You were nowhere to be found. He rushed over to her as she was laid on a bed.

“Lady Eowyn, what happened?”

She nearly didn’t recognize him. All of her effort was put into focusing on his words.

“Lady Eowyn, please. Where is she?” He held his breath like it would help him hear better.

With a tiny shake of her head, she croaked quietly, “I am sorry... We... We were separated... in battle... I know not... her fate...”

Haldir stepped aside to allow the healers in. His heart was at a standstill. Had he known Eowyn was going to sneak her way into the army, he would have pleaded with you to return to Rohan. Your injury did not have the time to fully heal. Fighting in such a strenuous battle would do you no good. He needed to find you. He needed to know that you were well.

Bursting through the doors, he raced down the stairs for the lower levels, Aragorn shouting something after him. He did not hear a word. Canopies were set up and homes were open near the gate for the soldiers who were unable to reach the Houses of Healing. Haldir weaved through the injured in a desperate attempt to find you. He’d rather discover you here as long as you were among the living.

After a fruitless search under the canopies, he began entering the opened homes. He asked anyone able for a person matching your description. Nothing. Nothing until he reached the last home. There you were towards the back of the room. An older woman had just stepped away from helping you. The armor you had borrowed like Eowyn was in a pile to the side. He could see the bandage on your thigh through the tear in your trousers, but other than that you came away from the battle fairly unharmed. How you managed that with a preexisting injury was a mystery to him.

“Meleth nin,” Haldir breathed, making his way to you. This time he meant to use the term.

Somehow, you heard him over the throng of people, your gaze meeting his. “Haldir!”

You rose to your feet a little too quickly and swayed unintentionally to put your weight onto your good leg. Haldir darted to you just in time, bringing you into his embrace.

“You’re alright...” He rested his forehead on yours just like before you departed, completely forgetting those around you. “I was beginning to think my search was for naught.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you buried your face in his chest. “Haldir, I... I’m so sorry. I know you meant to keep me from harm-”

“Shhh,” he cooed, settling his chin on the crown of your head. “I know. There is no need to apologize. All that matters is that you are here and well.”

Your light chuckle vibrated through him. “You are much too patient with me.”

“I assume you are not familiar with that.”

“You would be right.” He could feel your cheeks lift as you smiled. “Most tend to leave when I grow stubborn.”

Haldir shifted his face so it rested in your hair, murmuring into your scalp, “I am not going anywhere, Meleth nin.”

The world of man was still an anomaly to him. You were an anomaly within that world, and he wouldn’t have you any other way.

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sharkbait77 · 3 years ago

Text

The Sun Sets With You

Chapter Four: The Foundation of Growth

Summary: A simple yet despondent farm life suddenly sparks with new hope when an unusual traveler makes your town his latest stop and brings with him intriguing and promising viewpoints and no one to share them with. Until he meets you.

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x f!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Silas is officially his own warning! Death of a parent, depressive undertones, grief, food, pls lmk if I missed any!

W/C: 3.3k

A/N: This one is loaded with feelings guys, I didn't mean for it to be so heavy handed in the grief area, but I hope the conversation Ezra has with Reader offsets that. I definitely got into my own feelings about loss with this one, so I'm really sorry in advance if it's too much to handle. Read at your own risk, I've said it before, this story is not for everyone, always take care of yourself first & foremost lovelies. I've got some fluff coming up to make up for this one! I'm still building the plot you guys, I hope you're still with me!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist Form

Chapter Three || Chapter Five

~MAY THIRD OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

Two weeks have since passed; Pa and Ezra had tediously worked the fields, sowed the seeds with care, and the fruition of all their work thus far has resulted in the small sprouts now growing from the Earth. ‘One of Mother Nature’s greatest gifts’, Ezra had said once while you gazed upon the rows of leaflets. Rebirth, growth, new beginnings. You find yourself envying the fresh buds, wishing to crawl into the dirt and begin again as well.

The shop is quiet today. Since you chased away the older women looking to learn more about Ezra Prospect, you haven’t heard a peep since. Quite surprising, though you count your blessings and hope the silence will hold, if only for a moment longer. The children play in the road with the stray town dog and you catch yourself giggling as you watch them. Such innocence in their youth. You only hope life treats them kinder than it had to you.

The shop bell dinging pulls you out of your thoughts and you stand straighter to greet the customer. Lucille Jones enters, without the overbearing presence of her mother – a shock in and of itself. She walks with her hands entwined in front of her, her head lowered some, and blonde ringlets of hair fall forward to frame her face, but she still carries a gentle smile on her face as she looks up at you.

As much as you pitied the outcome of your own life, you could not help but pity Lucille’s tenfold. Her father had fought and perished in the war, the only person to have shown her love and caring, and she was now left with her mother, who was ready to practically pawn her off to the next richest man to come through town.

Were it not for her mother’s meddling, you know the two of you would be great friends. She may be the only other person in this town who can empathize with your despondency; her dreams, likely, have been ripped from her as well. Though, it makes the curiosity spark within you as you wonder why exactly she has shown up in the shop so suddenly and without her mother.

“Hello, Lucille. It’s nice to see you,” you say politely. She nods in return. Timid girl. “May I interest you in anything? I’ve concocted a new healing agent to help with the pesky bug bites during the summer,” you offer gently.

“I-I’ve…” She squeaks. You cock your head slightly at her.

“Lucille, what has your nerves so rattled?”

“I’ve come as a favor to my mother. And Mrs. Foster and Mrs. McKenna.”

She faces you head on now, her soft voice filled with determination to complete her mission, yet her eyes, filled with regret, betray her. You raise your eyebrows in contempt and sigh deeply, and upon seeing your reaction, Lucille’s desire to help her mother gossip dissipates. She quickly steps forward, the heels of her white boots clacking against the wooden floors and the skirts of her pink dress flowing behind her.

“I’m so sorry, I did not wish to come and gossip. It is not my desire. My mother… She would not rest until I agreed to come here,” she laments, the quiver in her voice proving to you that she truly meant no harm. “I will pass on the news that you will speak to no one. Forgive me,” she says, her head hanging lower now than at the start of this conversation as she turns to walk away.

“Wait,” you call out. She stops in her tracks, but does not turn to face you again. You walk around the counter to her position. “Lucille… Why do you follow what your mother commands of you?” You ask softly.

“I…” She looks up in your eyes, tears forming in her own and you swear you feel a string in your heart snap at the sight. “I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do. You can choose to leave all this behind, leave this town and its capability to drain the life from you. You do have a choice for how you desire to live your life.”

You hold her by her shoulders as you speak and you realize you are sharing advice with her that could very well be said to your own face. You know it is not a possibility for you, but if you were able to help Lucille leave town and save her from feeling the same hopelessness as you, a part of you would be freed as well, knowing she will have been able to move on to better things.

She stares at you, the tears in her eyes now dried up and you see a small spark of hope in them, but before you can speak more to nurture that spark into a larger flame, the shop bell dings again. Based on the dark figure in your peripheral, the stomp of large, gaudy boots walking in, the heady scent of cheap cologne filling your nostrils, you know exactly who it is.

Lucille looks at the man first and you remove your hands from her shoulders, taking a step back and inhaling a deep breath, nearly choking on the fragrance now overpowering the shop.

“Hello, Mr. Taylor,” Lucille greets, bowing her head slightly.

“Hiya sweetheart,” he responds in a predatory voice and you snap your head in his direction.

“How can I help you, Silas?” You ask quickly before he can intimidate poor Lucille.

“I heard you’ve got some queer working on the farm now,” he chuckles.

“Do not call him that,” you bite and Silas immediately stops laughing.

“Darlin’,” he takes a step toward you and Lucille backs away against the shop wall. “Don’t tell me you have befriended him. You’re too good for the likes of a freak.”

“You don’t know him,” you reply, keeping your head held high with determination, but you instinctually flinch when Silas barks out a laugh.

“And you do?!” He says, grinning wickedly. “For your sake, honey, I truly hope not.”

“What is your meaning, Silas? He works on my farm, it is only natural that I will, and have, come to know him.”

“Perhaps,” he says, his voice dropping to a lower, more aggressive, octave. “Just be aware of the consequences if you come to know him as more than the simple farmhand he is.”

You wish to spit in his face, to continue defending Ezra, yet the instincts within you beg for you to stop. Though you’ve never been one to cower at Silas and his schemes, you’ve also never seen him as he is before you. Crazed, animalistic, frightening. You’re unsure of what he truly is capable of and you would hate for now to be the time to learn.

Despite the resolute expression you attempt to hold, your eyes must shine with the light fear he managed to instill in you with his threat because he flashes a satisfied smirk, a laugh escaping his flared nostrils as he backs away from you. He turns on his heels and faces Lucille again, huffing a goodbye to her and glancing over his shoulder at you before walking out.

“Are you all right?” Lucille asks softly. You only nod in return. “That man is…” She scoffs, understanding how loathsome he is.

“Not a man. A beast.”

~MAY FIFTH OF EIGHTEEN SIXTY-SEVEN~

As you exit the house, ready to meet Ezra at the place you now share together, you reach up to grab an apple from the tree for yourself and throw it in your bag along with your book. You take a step away then halt just as quickly. You consider Ezra, and smile to yourself as you reach up again to grab another apple from the branch, setting it gently inside your bag.

As you approach the oak, you see Ezra standing near the edge of the river, his hands clasped behind his back and head held high. He seems to be enjoying the scenery and you try to lighten your steps so as to not draw him from his serene moment, but the grass crunches under your boots as you walk, regardless of how careful you are, and Ezra turns his head in the direction of the noise, smiling brightly once he sees you.

“Dear Sunflower, I was afraid you would not show today,” he says as he turns his whole body to face you.

“My apologies,” you catch your lip in between your teeth, hiding the amused grin forming on your face, your heart skipping a beat at the knowledge that he had been waiting for your arrival. You dig in your bag in search of the apple you plucked specially for him. “A gift for keeping you waiting,” you say and hold the bright, red fruit out to him.

“Sunflower,” he gasps softly, as though you had just handed him a precious gem. “Thank you. A sweet and kind gesture from someone as equally generous; it will not be forgotten.”

You nod once while you bite the inside of your cheeks. What has gotten you so giddy? He merely gave his thanks for your offering, but the smile on his face, his eyes searching yours to clue him in on what has you so affected, makes a schoolgirl-ish giggle escaping your throat.

You reach for your own apple and drop your bag down in the grass, closer to the tree, and you step closer to the river, kneeling down and carefully dipping the apple into the cool stream to wash the skin. Ezra kneels down beside you and follows your lead.

“These are from the tree by the house. The last tree I was able to plant with my mother before she-”

You pause, immediately feeling your throat constrict and halting any further words from falling from your lips. You’ve not spoken so carefree of your mother to anyone, and the suddenness of your desire to do so catches you off guard. Though you have gotten to know Ezra as more than an acquaintance, the truth of the matter was he is still a stranger to you.

You sense the energy shift around you, and you bite your tongue in penance for turning such a peaceful time into an unpleasant one. Ezra stops washing his apple and leans up straight again while you keep your hands under the cold water, scared to look into his eyes and see judgement.

“Sunflower,” he calls and you startle slightly. After a moment of silence, he speaks again. “If you were to wash that fruit any longer, I’m afraid it may lose its red complexion and turn into a shade of white.”

You cannot help the awkward chuckle that falls from your mouth and you lean up straight as well, still avoiding his gaze as you dry the apple with your apron. Aside from the running water next to you, the air is silent, neither of you speaking a word.

You continue drying the apple, turning it over and over in the cloth around your waist, even though you’re sure there are no water droplets remaining. Suddenly, a loud chomp is heard and your eyes snap up to the offending noise to see Ezra bringing the apple away from his lips, and the two of you break out into gentle laughter.

“Sunflower,” he begins after swallowing the piece of fruit in his mouth. “This is truly the sweetest apple I’ve ever bitten into, and I wholeheartedly believe it is because you and your dear mother were the ones to nurture the tree that grew it.”

The smile that remained on your face from your laughter slowly falls as you remember the day your mother suggested you plant the tree from a seed she accidentally bit into. You can recall her giggles as she grabbed you by the hand and pulled you outside, instructing you to grab the small shovel that was laid by the house while she held the seed in her closed fist.

Pa had said it would not take, chuckling and shaking his head as your mother shooed him away, reprimanding him for cursing the seedling before it had a chance to grow. And, with much love and dedication that your mother insisted on carrying out together, the small tree grew, and soon after, sprouted the shiny, red globes.

“I… I apologize for the sudden change of atmosphere, Ezra,” you say quietly, glancing up at him sheepishly and, to your surprise, are met with a gentle smile of understanding across his face.

“Please do not apologize for reminiscing upon your loved one. It is a hobby I frequently partake in. The memories… They are what keep them alive. No longer with us in the physical sense, yet they live in the grass, in the rivers. In the trees.”

“Like the Green?” You ask shyly as you pick at the stem of your apple.

“Yes. They are born again, just in a different form, but always here to remind you of life. Much like the apple tree is a reminder of your mother.”

You wonder to yourself if Ezra has been a victim of loss as well. The way he speaks of it seems as though he talks from experience, but you do not dare ask. As uncomfortable as it can be for you to speak about your mother, you’d hate to bring that discomfort to him as well. Yet… He speaks so openly, so calmly, that you feel yourself longing to open up.

“Perhaps if I dream of the Green, I would see my mother again,” you say under your breath, feeling the tears that have so long desired to flow build in your eyes with an unbearable pressure.

“You do not need to wait until your dreams, dear Sunflower. You only need to look around at the life surrounding you to know she is here. Close your eyes and she will appear.”

You only have the strength to nod, the lump stuck in your throat as thick as Pa’s dreadful grits he so enjoys making during the winter. A small laugh bubbles over as you remember the way your mother put up the facade of enjoying his grits only to empty them in a bucket to be fed to the cows at a later time.

You look back up at Ezra and he smiles, his eyes shining with compassion, no hint of judgement or scrutiny to be found, and the lump in your throat vanishes, comfort radiating from his person onto you like a warm, wool blanket.

“Would…” You hesitate, but an overwhelming urge to share with Ezra commands you to continue. “Would you like to see her?”

“I would love to,” he nods gently.

You smile softly, leaving your apple to rest in your lap while you carefully pull at the chain around your neck until the small locket emerges from underneath your blouse. You scoot closer to Ezra and he mimics your movement, leaning closer to you as well and you recognize that this is the first time he has been in such close proximity to you.

You shove the tip of your fingernail between the crevice of the locket until it pops open, revealing the black and white photograph of your mother that you yourself have not taken the opportunity to look at in far too long. The length of the chain is still too short for Ezra to get a proper look, so he leans in closer, your heads mere inches apart.

You feel your pulse thumping against your chest, the vein in your neck throbbing as you feel the heat emanating from him. He smells of cedarwood and the hay bed he sleeps on, a light scent of sweat from working the fields, and something almost sweet, a unique aroma to be found only on his person and no one else.

“She is very beautiful, Sunflower. It is as plain as the nose on my face that you are her daughter,” he compliments, backing away from you slowly and you giggle softly as you place the locket back into your blouse. “What is her name?”

“Emma,” you smile genuinely, for once feeling not one ounce of sadness as you say her name aloud.

“Emma. She is now the sun, moon, and stars that shine down on you, Sunflower.”

You smile once again and nod as you place your hand on your chest, feeling the cool metal press against the warm skin covering your sternum. You close your eyes and let the sun’s rays warm your cheeks as you take a deep breath, heeding Ezra’s thoughtful words and imagining that your mother is, indeed, the sun kissing your face.

“Thank you for allowing me to share my thoughts, Ezra,” you say after a beat of prolonged silence. As you look over at him, you see his head lowering, too, as if he had mimicked your action and let the warmth of the sun fall on his face as well.

“You have no need to thank me, dear one. I am elated you deemed me worthy to share your thoughts with. If you ever desire to share again, please know I am here,” he says softly as he smiles.

“You are a very good friend, Ezra. I am happy to know you.”

“And I, you.”

You look down at your lap to your forgotten apple, raising it to your mouth to take a bite and Ezra resumes eating his as well. Once you’ve both bitten down to the core, you both toss them into the river and you stand up, allowing the blood to circulate through your legs again before heading over to the tree.

You bend over to collect your bag along the way and your book falls from the opening as you stand straight. Before you are able to bend down to grab it, Ezra is already there, lifting it in his hands while he reads the cover.

“‘Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland’?” He smiles quizzically.

“I understand it is for children, but I quite enjoy the adventure and wonder of it,” you say, smiling from embarrassment.

“I do not judge what a young lady chooses to read in her spare time, Sunflower,” he grins as he hands the book to you. “I have yet to read this one. Will you read it aloud for me?”

“Yes,” you nod. “If you’d like.”

You both sit down in the grass, leaning your backs against the trunk of the oak tree as you find the page you last left off. The scene of Alice’s trial has Ezra suddenly captivated as to what caused Alice to be put on trial, unfairly it seemed. You do your best to explain, which only produces more questions from Ezra.

You giggle at his frustration over the treatment of this poor girl and decide to start the book over for Ezra to follow along, a genuine happiness washing over you at the thought of reading this story to Ezra for the weeks to come. He leans in closer, as though the distance you had between you previously was too far for him to hear you and you stumble over your words slightly.

You still do not understand this feeling overcoming you; the only thing you do understand is that you do not feel the need to place a guard around yourself as you do with the others in town. You want to share with Ezra, you feel comfortable enough with him already, though he has only been here for two weeks.

Yet, you feel as though you know him better than most around you and you feel that he understands you better than even your Pa. It frightens you, yet you have no desire to run from it, but rather towards it. A new path you find yourself carving into your mind.

Chapter Three || Chapter Five

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whatifxwereyou · 4 years ago

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The Oncoming Storm Part 3: Earthrealm

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: You meet the mythical Lord Raiden. He reminds you of your dad, but nicer, oddly enough. Liu Kang might also be your new best friend.

A/N: Thanks again everyone! This has been such fun. I meant to say earlier that this takes place a couple years prior to the film (also that I know a bit about MK as a game series, so I will include tidbits here and there if I can). ALSO! I am open to any suggestions that you may wish to see throughout this story- either for Liu Kang or Kung Lao. I can't guarantee I will use them but I will consider them. I am delighting in writing this!! EDIT:: lol why did no one tell me there were so many errors in this one. All fixed!

The Beginning << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

The days that followed were a struggle. Monks would visit and care for your wounds at all hours of the day. You were in and out of consciousness. When you did manage to stay awake, you would meditate and do simple exercises to keep your body strong. That was a struggle in itself. Wounds needed rest to heal but you refused to become weak to them in the meantime. You were ready to fight.

Without fail Liu Kang would visit every evening. He brought books for you to read together. On his second visit he gifted you with a crudely bound leather journal and a pen to take notes with. You were inquisitive and Liu Kang was a wealth of knowledge. On nights where you finished a book or a lesson early, you would meditate together. Other nights you would chat and often times those chats would end in swapping personal stories. You had become fast friends.

You kept a calendar in the back of the journal. Liu Kang helped account for the time that you’d lost to unconsciousness. A week had passed since you’d woken up in Raiden’s Temple. You circled the x over the day and wondered where Kung Lao was. You’d asked around about him but had been told that many of the Earthrealm warriors were often absent. Apparently, he was frequently gone for long stretches of time. Many of the monks left on lengthy errands. Mortal Kombat and the protection of Earthrealm extended far beyond China. You wondered how much of the world Kung Lao had seen. You’d barely ever left your hometown for anything other than martial arts tournaments.

“Miss Y/N?” A monk pulled aside the sheet that had been pinned around the doorway of the small closet-sized space that had become your semi-permanent dwelling. You offered the monk a tired smile and gestured to allow him to enter. The monk bowed politely. “Your presence has been requested by Lord Raiden.”

“Oh?” You had known that you would meet with the man who the temple belonged to eventually. Liu Kang had told you that you would be summoned only after you’d been deemed well enough. You hadn’t passed out in exhaustion for the last 48 hours so you supposed this was as good a time as any. “Give me a moment to change, if you will.”

“Yes, of course Miss Y/N.” The monk bowed and left you with some privacy. You’d grown accustomed to the dressing gowns. They were comfortable and since you didn’t move around much, they worked. You’d been given several lightweight gi for future training and several hanfu, traditional Chinese garments, to wear if you desired. You wished, more than anything, that you’d gotten to pack some of your things before everything had gone to hell. No t-shirts or tank tops. No jeans or leggings. Not even any cute summer dresses. But you were grateful to have anything.

You changed into the soft blue and white hanfu that had become your favorite. It was simpler in design than the others but still long and flowing. You didn’t need anything terribly fancy to have a conversation with someone. You were sure that if Lord Raiden expected you to dress up then you would have been warned. Considering that Liu Kang rotated through the same three tattered gi and was almost always covered in soot, you doubted there was a strict dress code.

After you changed, you pulled your hair up lazily with a set of chopsticks. Then you returned to the monk who was waiting for you in the hall. The monk bowed again and then led you through the halls of the temple. The floor you’d been on had very few windows and only in the hallways. You followed the monk up several ramps and flights of stairs. Endless halls branched in every direction making the whole place seem labyrinthian. You were certain that you could spend weeks exploring the halls and still manage to miss things.

If the monk hadn’t been leading you then you wouldn’t have been able to resist your curiosity. After a good thirty minutes spent walking, you were led into a dark hallway with a rounded ceiling. It disappeared into the distance lit only by odd white statues that stood in a line along its center. The monk bowed and gestured down the hall.

“Good luck, Miss Y/N.” The monk then left you alone. You approached the glass statues in the center of the hall and found their insides sparking with electricity. They were funny in that they reminded you of a sophisticated and silent Tesla coil that fired constantly. Below the frosted glass you could see currents of electricity flowing almost as you imagined lightning would through the clouds. Your fingers brushed curiously over the glass.

“Miss Y/N?” A commanding and deep voice called from the end of the hall. You felt like a child who had disobeyed your teacher and winced. You hurried down the hall as quickly as your legs would allow then bowed before entering the room at its end.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t seen much outside of the infirmary. I was fascinated.”

The man who stood before you was of average build and height, his face mostly obscured by his hat. You grinned in surprise and recognition but then quickly fought to hide your glee. Raiden’s expression was severe, reminding you very much of your father and the way he’d glare at you when you’d said something un-lady-like as a child.

“There is much to discuss.” He gestured for you to take a seat on the floor in front of where he was seated with his legs crossed so you did. Much to your surprise, he was floating several inches off the ground and while you tried to hide your shock, you were sure your eyes had gone wide. “I am Lord Raiden; the protector of Earthrealm.”

“It’s an honor to meet you. Liu Kang has told me a little about you.”

“I am not surprised.” Raiden had a commanding voice as well as presence so you listened attentively. He explained the nature of other realms though he didn’t go terribly in depth with their origins or existence. Outworld was their greatest opposition with the desire to control earth and humanity. They were brutal warmongers from how Raiden described them. He then explained the tournaments and how if Outworld won a tenth tournament they could lay claim to Earthrealm.

Shang Tsung, a powerful sorcerer, would lead his armies there and take humanity as slaves. You didn’t ask but you wondered if Shang Tsung was the ruler of Outworld. You figured that if it were important then Raiden would tell you. He went on to tell you that Outworld had done this before with other realms and they had been devastated into waste.

Raiden spoke in a way that made it seem as though he had lived through countless lifetimes. While his tone often sounded severe, he also spoke with great purpose. “Our next tournament will not be for a few more years. You are one of Earthrealm’s chosen warriors.” Raiden’s lecture was winding down. “Do you have any questions?” You had known much of what Raiden had taught you that day but still sat patiently through it.

“I think I understand. If I have any questions later then I can ask Liu Kang. It’s difficult for me to wrap my mind around this craziness, for lack of a better word. He’s been very patient with me. The idea of arcana and how I’m meant to fight warriors from another world is still wild to me but I understand the concept. I think with time and practice I will be better off.” You stifled a giggle and then cleared your throat to stop any further giggles from escaping.

“Is there something you find funny?”

Guilt again. The kind you’d felt exclusively around your parents.

“You’re the man with the funny hat.” Your cheeks burned when he seemed affronted by your description of him. “I don’t mean to come off as rude! Forgive me. My shop is on the edge of town and there are many travelers passing through. I remember you from one of those visits. You chose your words carefully and spoke very little. You required precious stones and, as I often do, I made polite small talk. I asked what you needed them for and you said in the protection of Earthrealm which you quickly corrected to the protection of nature. You opened my eyes long ago to the secrets of the world though I was doubtful there was any truth to it until now.”

Raiden’s expression shifted and he seemed pleased but he was also difficult to read. You hoped he was pleased. Despite his severe and intimidating presence, he seemed well meaning.

“I don’t recall this instance but am happy to learn that there are those who learn the truth without panic or dismissal.”

“So, I have to fight then.”

“More than fight. You must find your arcana so that you may stand a chance against the warriors of Outworld. They are ruthless and possess skills that may seem impossible to you. Without your arcana you will not stand a chance.”

“How do I do that? Find my arcana, I mean.”

“Through trial and adversity. Everyone is different. Your arcana is unique to you.” Raiden stood and so you did the same. “Your training will begin tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure you were ready for that but you bowed respectfully. That was tomorrow’s problem. “Thank you. I promise to work my hardest.”

Raiden said nothing but didn’t look as though he quite believed you capable. You had long ago stopped seeking the approval of others. Actions spoke louder than words and you would do as you promised. Raiden turned from you without another word. You waited for an awkward moment to be dismissed then turned and left. You chose not to linger in the hall with the pretty lightning sculptures that had distracted you earlier.

The path back to the infirmary wasn’t easily found and you wandered aimlessly for a time before asking a monk to help you back to the infirmary. You were exhausted. Upon arrival you closed the curtain to your tiny room and sat on the edge of your bed. Your arms were aching. You were sore and tired. Gravity didn’t agree with your healing wounds. Training was going to be a bitch but you would be better for it.

Retrieving the journal Liu Kang had given you, you made yourself cozy after rekindling the flame of your lantern. You went over the notes from the day before and smiled. Your handwriting was often sandwiched between his. You’d had a difficult time holding a pen for the first few days and your handwriting was atrocious. There had been times where you’d been too dazed with exhaustion so Liu would take over and explain what he was writing down. He was incredibly considerate.

You drifted to sleep leaning against the wall behind your narrow bed, book in your arms. In your very brief dreams you’d been seated with a young Kung Lao in the field outside of your grandparents’ farm. The more you remembered of him the more you could see the man he’d grown up to be.

A knock against stone startled you awake and you jumped upright. Standing in your doorway, peering through the curtain was Liu Kang. He seemed surprised.

“Did I wake you?” He stepped inside and closed the curtain behind him for privacy. How long had you slept? Crap.

“What time is it? Did I sleep through training?”

“No.” He laughed and it was a welcome and comforting sound. “It’s quite late but I was busy today and had no time until now. I wished to see you before bed.” He spoke of you with such fondness that if you hadn’t been half asleep then you probably would have blushed. You adjusted yourself and made room for him to sit next to you on the bed as you often had while reading. He joined you gratefully. You watched as he brushed his thumb over the prayer beads that often went from wrapped around his wrist to his palm and back again. “Tomorrow is going to be difficult, Y/N.”

You guessed that he would be the one training you. He was one of the only warriors with the marking that stayed in Raiden’s Temple besides Kung Lao that you knew of.

“Promise not to pull any punches, okay?”

“I knew you would say that.” He nudged your shoulder with his.

“I mean it, Liu. It’s been over two weeks since this happened. I’m ready to fight. If I’m going to survive all of this… otherworldly supernatural nonsense then I have no choice. Besides that… I want to do this. I want to fight.”

“I need you to promise to be safe.”

“That’s very sweet, Liu, but I’m a fighter. I’ve been fighting for years. I’m ready to help and more importantly, I’m ready to feel strong again. This thing with the poison and my arms? It’s taken a toll on me. I need to be okay.”

“I understand, I think.” He slipped the beads back around his wrist and caught a glimpse of the journal that you’d fallen asleep holding. Then he looked back toward the door. He was nervous. You could feel it.

“Are you okay, Liu?”

“I’m fine.” He picked up the journal and tapped the pages. “Would you like to study?”

“Can’t sleep, can you?”

“Oh, right. It’s late. I apologize. I woke you. I should let you rest.” He stood, bowed, and then turned to leave. Without thinking, you grabbed his hand. If your arms hadn’t been aching, you would have pulled him back to you. Liu Kang was very aware of the strain that it would put on you to pull so he stopped dead in his tracks. He was always aware of what was going on around him and your aching arms appreciated that more than ever.

“You can stay. We can keep reading. I’d like that.” You insisted. Liu Kang smiled and so you let go of his hand, realizing that you’d been holding it for perhaps too long. He grabbed a hefty book that had been resting beneath your side table. You’d made your way a quarter through it over the past few days. Then you sat together, leaning against the wall. He read to you and his soothing voice nearly lulled you back to sleep. It provided you with a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a long time. Studying with him, even in your worst moments of pain, had become a fond memory.

The words were familiar and so you snapped one eye open. “We already read this.” You waited for a pause in his natural cadence.

“No, we did not.”

“We did, look.” You pointed to your journal and the scribbles in it from the night before. Your handwriting really was terrible. You could make out bits and pieces of it. Liu had the patience of a saint for trying to decipher it. He squinted at the letters.

“I can’t read that. No one can read that, Y/N.” He tapped the page you had pointed to. “That could say almost anything. Are you bored with the history of the Wu Shi Academy?”

“No! We were just further along than this, that’s all. Look, just…” You shoved the journal in front of the book and he laughed. His laugh was sweet and filled with warmth. “I think that this is highlighting this passage here about the foundations and the energy wells beneath it…”

“You can’t possibly read that. We have established that it’s gibberish.”

“I wrote it! I can sort of make out little bits…”

“We have to work on your penmanship, Y/N.”

“I got all sliced up where the tendons and stuff are. They’re still healing!” You whined and then pouted. Liu took the journal and set it on the bed just beyond your feet. You reached past him and turned the pages of the book, searching for the next chapter. “At least get to the part with the arena. You promised that we would learn about that next. You went on and on about it.”

“I did no such thing. You can admit that you’re bored.” Liu teased. You flipped the pages again without his permission so he tried to tug the book away and you jolted to the side with him, hair falling into your face, chopsticks now useless. Much to your surprise, as you righted yourself, Liu helped you and pushed your messy hair away and tucked some of it behind your ear. Your laughter subsided and you avoided his eyes as his admired you. You swore your heart skipped a beat. “Your hair.” He brushed a few strands between his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh?” You dared to look into his dark eyes that were rivers of thought and emotion. You had no aspirations of unraveling them. You liked their mystery.

“The color.”

“Oh, yeah… I uh… I haven’t been able to keep up with dye here and it’s naturally white.” You pointed to the roots that had begun to show.

“White? That’s peculiar.”

“Wow, thanks. Yeah, I know it’s weird.”

“I didn’t mean any offense. It looks nice.” He seemed to realize that his hand was very much still in your hair. His tongue ran nervously over his lower lip while he was lost briefly in thought before he pulled his hand back. “We’ll read about the arena but only because you have chosen to entertain me at a late hour instead of turning me away.”

“And because you realized I was right.” You joked but your stomach was very much in knots. This was no time to be feeling butterflies in your stomach but there they were. Liu Kang made you feel butterflies. Literal butterflies. You hadn’t understood that idiom until now.

“There will be a test, Y/N.” He joked and smoothed out the pages of the book. You retrieved the journal and pen but had given up on writing notes for the night. Your arms were still aching and you were drained. Liu delighted in sharing a map of the ancient arena and reciting battles that he’d won and lost there. His voice was a soothing and familiar drone and before you realized it, you were falling asleep, head falling against his shoulder.

Instead of leaving you there to sleep, Liu Kang continued to read. Sometime later you woke up and the flame in the lantern had gone dim. Liu was still seated next to you, his head now rested atop yours. From his soft, slow breaths, you guessed that he had fallen asleep too. The book was rested neatly on top of your journal as if he had made the decision to put it aside and stay. You should wake him and send him back to his room. He would be more comfortable there. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay. He’d chosen to stay so you decided to let him have his choice.

For the first time since you’d woken up in Raiden’s Temple, you went to sleep feeling secure and comfortable.

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

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Of Monsters and Men

Chapter 3- The Ends Beginning

Summary: You and Geralt travel to Blaviken in search of more coin, though you’re wary of getting into trouble. Unsurprisingly you do in fact, get into trouble.

Warnings: long chapter, ya know gore and such, Geralt just being a babe and reader dealing with the shit she gets into for this man

Masterlist

You looked up to the dreary sunless sky, not a single speck of blue to give you a hopeful sign that the world is not as unhappy as the swamp you're currently standing in. Your surroundings disgustingly emit the gnarly stench of shit and death, seeping into your nostrils against your will as you stand idly by the waters grimy edge with your silver weapon unsheathed in your right hand.

Roach patiently keeps her distance by the leafless trees as she waits for her master who's currently under the water fighting a very pissed off kikimora. Geralt insisted that he would be the one to get into harms way and lure the ugly fucker out from it's hiding place. You, not wanting to get your clothes wet, agreed to his proclamation.

Although right now, with no visible signs of life from beneath the murky waters, you're wondering if letting him handle it all alone was the best course of action. Soon your worrisome thoughts evade you once Geralt and the screaming kikimora burst forth from the inky pond. He's lifted out of the air with a grunt as the beast plunges him back down into the depths. You shake your head and turn to Roach who takes a single step back.

Rolling your eyes you let out a sigh, "Fine. I'll help him." You exclaim to the mare with a wave of your large dagger, she simple snorts in reply.

As you approach the water you can hear the guttural muffled sounds from the battle beneath the surface. You had not anticipated on getting soaked today and you're not about to now. With a swift jump you launch yourself over the submerged kikimora and with the power only gifted by your vampirian mother, you float above the beast.

Begrudgingly you reach your hand down into a couple inches of murky water, grasping the creature by its slimy neck, once your fingers have clawed into its flesh do you then pull up. The bastard screeching in pain as it breaks the surface, greeted by a quick slice to one of its protruding arms that hastily reaches for your body. You let go and glide back over to the bank as Geralt emerges from the water to curtly stab the monster through its mouth, the beast instantly going limp.

He turns a pale face to you, his eyes an obsidian shade of pure shining black as he breaths heavily from the messy battle fought only moments ago. Sloshing through the swamp water, he makes his way onto the shore to stand next to your smirking face.

"Yeah you really had that under control, I could tell from the way you were slowly getting turned into a drowner." You can't see it but you can practically feel his eye roll.

"And you didn't want to get a little wet." He mutters between heavy breaths while you flick water off of your hand.

You smile, sticking your dagger back into its leather sheath, "The only way I'm getting a little wet is by watching you stand naked in front of me as you sensually clean your sword." He laughs at your sarcastic remark, an odd but pleasant contrast to the dull bubbling of the swamp.

He then walks back into the water to cut a large piece off of the dead kikimora, hopefully it's enough to pay for some new clothes for your smelly Witcher. Once the beast is set and tied do you wait for him to mount Roach before he lets a hand out for you to take. Pulling you up into his lap, he slings his arms around your sides to better hold onto the leather reigns.

The ride to the gloomy village of Blaviken is a short one, but nonetheless enjoyable as you lean yourself into his warm body. Finally do you reach the wooden gates where Roach continues her trek into the town. As Geralt does, you keep your hood up, doing your best to hide behind your disheveled hair. No one bothers to look at you and Geralt when Roach comes to a stop, the two of you getting down, Geralt tying her up before you both head into the closest tavern for something to drink on this dreary morning.

As expected, you can feel the distrustful gazes from the tavern goers as they watch you and Geralt walk up to the bar. Ignoring their wary eyes, you take a seat as the lady bartender asks what you'd like to drink, seemingly uncaring or oblivious to the strangeness of you two. Geralt sets some coin onto the table getting straight down to business, as per usual.

"Point us to the alderman's house." He abruptly asks, she kindly answers him while pointing in the direction of the desired residence before she's cut off by a greasy slightly heavy looking man who shoos her away. He quickly steps behind the bar, glancing warily between the two of you.

"We don't want your kind here, Witcher." He states, only the tiniest bit of fear flashing through his grey eyes, but that's gone quickly as he glares over at you, "Or yours, daughter of demons." Spits the bearded man at you this time. Apparently your kinds reputation precedes you still, no matter, he is of little concern at the moment.

"The alderman, tell me where he is and we'll be on our way." Asks Geralt once again, nothing sinister lacing his words, although you're becoming irritated knowing that a group is forming behind you. And right on cue does a smiling bulldog of a man appear before you, snapping at Geralt about how he doesn't give the orders around here, adding in another insult to perhaps feel more superior. Geralt simply hums in response, turning his head to you in a silent plead for you to behave.

You begrudgingly listen and keep your head down as the bearded man orders you two to leave or face a rope around your necks. Geralt stands up and yet again is taunted and challenged by this snarky little man, who then promptly insults the both of you before calling to his men to stand ready. Oh can nothing ever be easy?

Suddenly a woman's voice speaks out among the crowd like a spark in the darkness, you quickly turn your cloaked head to face this mystery woman. Her short brunette hair is messy as her dark eyes scan over the three of you, curiosity in her calculated gaze. She wears an all red top, two black leather gauntlets embroidered in gold protect her lower forearms, and a single golden broach sits pinned above her left breast. She snaps at the bearded man to stay quiet as her eyes find your shadowed ones.

She gifts a mutual nod of respect before politely apologizing for her men's rudeness as she then askes them to leave, to your surprise, the bulldog-like man listens and they all leave without another word. For the next however long, she kindly buys you both a drink as she wonders of your whereabouts and the agreeable need for Geralt and some new clothes. When suddenly a random girl appears asking about the kikimora, Geralt turns to you and with a nod to Renfri, the both of you are off.

You lead the way to Roach as Geralt silently follows, the girl rambling on about nothing interesting but her own personal troubles and little adventures. Until her eyes light up once they find the bloody leg of the dead kikimora hidden under a bag atop Roach's back. To yours and Geralt's disappointment she claims that her father, the alderman, will have no use for the swamp beast. But as you both turn to leave she announces that instead you should speak to Master Irion, the village wizard, insisting he will pay for ingredients for elixers. With an annoyed roll of your eyes do you turn to follow the girl, Geralt smiling at your irritated face. Now you're going to meet a fucking wizard, just what you wanted.

The alderman's daughter leads you and Geralt down a gravely dirt road as Geralt holds onto Roach's leather reigns, the three of you walking past vendors and fresh produce stalls, "Have you ever killed a succubus? A striga? Werewolf? She-wolf?" Pries the smiling girl as she walks in between you and Geralt.

"That's not a thing." He replies bluntly.

"Okay then...a dhampir?" She questions, glancing at you for a split second.

You kick a small rock that lays in your path before answering, "You're more insightful then you look." She smiles sweetly at you, giving you a knowing glance, so she's aware of what you are, interesting.

"Well, I think all that monster killing makes you two heroes." She cheerfully boasts as her attention falls upon Geralt, "My mother says you're the offspring of foul sorcery, a diabolic creation, a filthy degenerate born of Hell." She exclaims before turning to look at you, "She thinks even less of your kind, told me you're a rarity or maybe the only one, a princess of darkness...heir to the black throne, or maybe it was the blood throne? Can't remember....you two ever been to Hell? I've never even left Blaviken. Because my mothers never left Blaviken and if it's good enough for Libushe, then it's good enough for Marilka. That's my name. Marilka, like milk." She says while turning her curious gaze over to Geralt, then back to you, "What's your guys' names?"

"Geralt."

Marilka's face shifts from satisfaction for learning of your Witchers name, back to curiosity in a split second, "Like garroter? Nice...where are you from Geralt?" She wonders.

"Rivia."

Marilka nods in understanding as she focuses her attention back to you, "What's your name?"

"Y/N....of Alkatraz." You tell her, giving her the name of your homeland so she won't ask you another question, cause lets be honest this kid doesn't need to know anything else about you. It may give her nightmares.

"I don't know where either of those places are, but I could learn, if you two'd let me." She inquires, hopeful that she may get something out of her questioning.

"No." Replies Geralt to her utter disappointment.

"Because I'm a girl and girls can't become Witchers. Which is probably the stupidest thing I've ever heard." She sasses, earning a smile from both yours and Geralt's dirty faces. "I want more...I have to be more, because I don't know what to do in Blaviken for the rest of my life, except go to the boring old market."

"And kill rats." Replies Geralt with a tiny amused grin as he shares a glance with you.

"And dogs." You add, causing Marilka to laugh as a large smile appears onto her young beaming face.

——

"Here we are." She announces once the three of you make it to the looming tower of grey stone, the house of the wizard. Geralt gives Marilka the reigns to Roach as you walk closer under the brick archway where giant wooden doors await. Even before Geralt is able to reach for the doors do you touch his arm, a wary expression clear on your face, you can see the way that the doors shimmer with magic. Something unseen to the eyes of men, or even a Witcher for that matter.

"An illusion." You explain, not wanting to go any further but also not wanting to miss out on what alluring mystery lays hidden behind the enchanted doors.

"I can hold your hand." He teases.

"You can kiss my arse."

"I can do that too." Whispers Geralt while you let out a breathy laugh.

Letting go of his arm, you both enter at the same time to a bright vibrant wall of enticing rainbows that dances across your vision as your gaze adjusts to the view. Your scarlet eyes going wide, first in awe of the spirited beauty of the gardens before a shocked laugh escapes your mouth once you see the naked women tending to the trees. Oh.

You turn to find Geralt seemingly quite disinterested and looking rather cleaner then he once was, his white hair much snowier then a moment ago, his black cloak gone from his shoulders, as well as your own. The both of you look upon a great floating tree in the center of the sun kissed courtyard, your ears suddenly pricking to the sound of closely approaching footsteps to your right. You snap your head over to the sight of a richly dressed man holding a wooden staff.

"Greetings. I am Stregobor....Master Stregobor. Sorcerer." Announces the greying bearded man who holds an oaken staff with a white crystal encircled at the top by the bending wood holding it prisoner. Why does he look oddly familiar?

"We have a kikimora for Master Irion." Mutters Geralt bluntly, Stregobor flashing a tiny grin in curiosity for the random presence of yourself and Geralt.

"Yes, well, forgive the confusion. Irion created this tower, but he's been dead 200 years. So, in order to honor him, I've taken his name as my...personal sobriquet." Explains Stregobor, Geralt simply hums in reply as you put a hand on your hip. Wizards and their deceitful tricks.

Scoffing, you glance around your current setting, "He create this illusion, too?" You ask with a raise of your eyebrow, the wizard turns with an unabashed smile to look at his pleasurable surroundings.

"No, his is, uh...this is my own creation. Helps pass time more delightfully." Answers Stregobor with a telling half grin upon his aging face, Geralt watches the irritation grow onto your clean dirt-less face as you shake your head.

Crossing your arms over your chest you eye up the old wizard, "Because you're in hiding, Stregobor." His demeanor immediately changes at your blunt reply, he didn't anticipate you'd figure him out so quickly. Why else would a renowned mage flee to this horseshit of a town and change his name to the long dead wizard?

He ever-so-slightly turns his head to the side, eyeing you distrustfully, "How very clever of you...princess, of night." States the annoyed wizard who hands you a glare, Geralt smirks as he watches this small tension filled interaction between the two of you. In all honesty, you're not surprised that this wizard knows who you are. You've been around for quite some time on this Continent, and anyways, you are the only dhampir known to exist who also happens to be a princess to the true Vampire Queen of the Northern Kingdoms.

With a curt turn of his body does Stregobor retain his once lost, now more welcoming demeanor as he nods for yourself and your Witcher to follow. He leads you two down an open hallway, where naked ladies and fruit filled trees remain on either side minding their business. They aren't real after all.

"Not often do we see the likeness of you two here in Blaviken." Admits the wizard, his fancy robes swishing as he walks.

"Not many of our likeness left." Replies Geralt as you walk down the stone hallway by his side, your eyes still wandering over the strange beauty of this pleasant illusion in contrast to the gloominess of Blaviken.

"Hm. Well Witcher I'd offer you my condolences, but...I seem to remember that Witchers don't feel...anything." You keep your eyes ahead of you, he doesn't know you and Geralt are most definitely a thing, "I'm grateful destiny brought you two to me."

"Marilka brought us to you." Inquires Geralt as he averts his golden eyes from the bareness of the magical women, a grim expression lingering onto your features the longer you stay in this dreadful palace of lies. Suddenly Stregobor walks in front of the both of you, stopping you from walking any further.

"Oh, Marilka. Marilka works for me. Now and then. On matters of great importance." Reveals Stregobor as he glances between you and Geralt, of course the little shit was a simple messenger, you should have known a wizard would want to see the only Witcher and dhampir within a two-hundred mile radius who happen to be in town.

Geralt lets out an annoyed sigh as you lean against a white marble pillar, "A reclusive sorcerer who uses an alias and hires a young girl to procure him a Witcher and one of the only known dhampirs. You don't want our monster. You want us to kill yours." Declares Geralt calmly as the old wizard stands with a satisfied smirk upon his face. Your head tilts as you cross your arms over your chest, giving Stregobor a judgmental look.

"Very clever. Indeed." Muses the wizard with a knowing squint of his blue eyes.

"What kind?" You wonder, intrigued with this new information that could possibly result in much needed coin.

Stregobor goes quiet for a second as his voice goes hushed, "The worst kind." His look turns wary, as you notice the concealed fear that flashes across his face, "The human kind." He moves in closer, like if he speaks too loud this human will hear his treachery and slay him on the spot, "Its name is Renfri." He whispers before abruptly turning and walking down the short stone steps to the gardens. You turn to give Geralt a quizzical look, he simply hums with a small shrug, so instead you decide to follow Stregobor to find the reasoning behind his assumptions about Renfri.

She doesn't appear to look like the worst kind of human. Now you've personally seen the worst kinds of humans in your travels, this all intrigues you so.

"Destiny has many faces, Witcher. Mine for example, is beautiful on the outside, but...hideous on the inside." Explains Stregobor as he holds a perfectly red apple in his right hand while Geralt leans his muscular arm against a stone fountain while you stand next to him. "She has stretched her bloody talons towards me." He claims, not a hint of falseness lacing his words, but you're not convinced of his rambling quite yet.

Fumbling with the leather gauntlets on your forearms do you look up at him, "Wizards are all the same. You talk nonsense while making wise and meaningful faces." You growl, "Don't waste our time." Stregobor ceases the illusion of the red apple in his hand, giving you a humored half smile, knowing he's been seen through for his vagueness.

"Have you ever heard of the....Curse of the Black Sun?" Starts the wizard as his eyes dart between you and Geralt, who's not particularly keen on learning about more mysterious history that this strange old man may have possibly been involved in.

"Yes. Although I'm assuming you'd like to tell it." You sass, the wizard ignores your remark as he turns back to Geralt, explaining further.

"First full eclipse in 1,200 years. It marked the imminent return of Lilit, demon goddess of the night sent to exterminate the human race. According to the wise mage Eltibald, Lilit's path was to be prepared by 60 women wearing gold crowns who'd fill the river valleys with blood." You watch as Geralt hums in response to the wizards superstitious nonsense.

"Doesn't rhyme. All good predictions rhyme." Replies Geralt unimpressed.

"I studied the girls born around the Black Sun, and I found horrendous internal mutations among them. I tried to cure them, locked them in towers for safekeeping, but the girls always died." Your face twists in disgust at the atrocious proclamations Stregobor is freely giving you. No shit they died, who wants to be locked away?

"Internal mutations?" Pries Geralt.

"They were autopsied, of course, to confirm my suspicions. But eliminating these women was the lesser evil. They could have drowned entire kingdoms in blood." He states confidently, sure of his actions, "If you'd been alive during Falks's Rebellion, seen what I saw..."

"Innocent women are dead." Mutters Geralt, anger low in his gravely voice as you stare daggers in Stregobor's direction, what was this mans deal with hurting these poor women, how did he know if these princess' would have actually have done what was supposedly said?

"But not Renfri, the dark eyed one." You add, the wizard looks away knowing he's been caught for his interior motives, "She's after you, can't imagine why." You jab with a smirk as he walks around the fountain.

"Daughter of King Fredefalk of Creyden. I delivered the princess myself in the middle of the afternoon in pitch black." He says while keeping his gaze onto something nearby as he remembers his past dealings.

"Under the Black Sun, so....she's cursed." Muses Geralt as he throws his arms to his sides, not believing in this ridiculous story one bit, Stregobor whips around, an offended look upon his face.

"Do you consider me a fool, Witcher?" He snaps.

"Very much." His blue eyes glare at you with malice as you smile a sweet fangy grin back at him before continuing his explanation, still agitated that he's not getting any help from either of you.

"Do you think I did not conduct research? Renfri was acutely affected. Her stepmother, Aridea, told me she tortured a canary, strangled two puppies, even gouged out her maid's eye with a comb."

"She would have fit right in with my family then." You whisper with a light chuckle, he simply ignores you, a small smile flashing onto Geralt's face.

"I admit what happened next was not ideal, but...with the lives of Adrea's own children on the line, we had to act. So I dispatched someone to follow Renfri into the woods. We found him in the brush, Renfri's antique brooch jammed into his ear. After that, I organized a manhunt to find the princess, but...eh...she was gone." He rambles with a dismissive wave of his hands as he turns away from you both once again, remembering aged memories, "Two years. Until she reappeared, robbing and murdering merchants on the roads of Mahakam. Impaled them on sticks at first, but soon, she picked up sword skills. And now no man can defy her, it's said." Inquires Stregobor with a troubled look in Geralt's direction.

"You're not a man. You're a magician." States Geralt, implying that Stregobor should be able to handle this shit himself, considering he's an actual wizard and all.

"She's resistant to magic." Reveals Stregobor dismally.

Your face turns to a mix of confusion and curiosity, "That's impossible in humans." You add, never had you heard of something like this before.

"Not...mutated ones. She's chased me for years, bent on revenge. And now she attacked me here, just as you two have arrived." Declares the wizard in a hushed voice as he glances from you to Geralt, "Destiny." He whispers dramatically, "Kill her. I'll pay whoever lands the fatal blow, anything."

Geralt lets out a sigh, "We kill monsters."

"The kikimora kills because it's hungry. Renfri kills for pleasure. She is a monster. She is the last of Lilit's women. And she possess the power to destroy us all." Insists Stregobor as he leans in closer to Geralt who does not look pleased.

"If she's the last, this demon goddess cannot return considering you killed them all."

The old wizard gives you a look, "I did what was necessary for the survival of the human race, she is after me. I would rather keep my life and keep her from murdering anyone else just because she can. She has the power to bring forth unspeakable calamity."

"I don't believe anyone has that power." You reply, gifting this nutcase a less then friendly expression as you turn to leave without another word.

"You will sorely regret this." Calls out Stregobor.

"Will we?" Speaks your Witcher before turning and walking over to the small staircase leading away from the gardens. You leave Geralt on the steps, not caring for him and this wizards small exchange of words dealing with choosing between the lesser evils. You walk down the short sunny stone hallway, past more naked women and plant life as you make your way for the enchanted doors.

Enough with this mess.

——

After the events of earlier, consisting of an info dump of unneeded disturbing knowledge thrust upon you and Geralt by a rightfully paranoid old wizard, you and your silver haired man made sure to find a place in the nearby forest to camp for the night away from the village, and it's watchful residents. He grinds up some type of healing herb as you pet Roach, feeding her a well deserved carrot that you stole from the market.

Suddenly your nose catches the scent of Stregobor's worst fears, you turn in the direction of the approaching woman, a protective hand still on the mane of Roach. Renfri silently nods to you as you glance down to where Geralt is crouched, wordlessly implying for her to leave you alone and to discuss her intentions with the Witcher instead. Renfri accepts your soundless order without a word, turning she walks towards Geralt where she squats down just the same.

While petting Roach, you can't help but eavesdrop on their conversation. Renfri explains in dreadful first hand detail of what Stregobor's men really did to her in the woods before letting her live, those sick bastards. She then explains her reasoning that led her to where she is now, on her bloody war path of revenge and that now she wants you two to kill Stregobor in place of herself. Exclaiming it's the lesser evil, something you've heard too much of today which has you wondering what destiny has in store.

Geralt brushes her off as he stands up and walks over to you and Roach, Renfri following.

"I could have become so many things." She says longingly, a small smile upon her lips, "Queen Calanthe of Cintra, she just won her first battle at Hochebuz. But here I am, trying to convince you I'm not.."

"A monster." You interrupt as her gaze locks onto you.

"How am I to know?" She asks, "When I cut my finger I bleed...That's human right? When I overeat, my stomach aches. When I'm happy, I laugh. When I'm upset, I swear. And when I hate someone for stealing my whole life away from me, I kill him."

Geralt hums in thought as you purse your lips together at her truthful words before walking a couple feet away from them, her dark eyes flicker from you to Geralt, "People call you a monster too."

"A mutant." He corrects.

She smiles knowingly as her gaze settles onto your face, "You're more monster then the two of us. What if they come after you? Attack you? Why not kill them?"

"Because then I am what they say I am." You share a glance with Geralt, "We both are."

"If I tell you, Witcher..." Eyes set over to you, "..fellow princess, that I can neither forgive Stregobor nor renounce my revenge, it that it? I admit I'm a monster?"

"Yes." You add before taking a step closer to Renfri, "Or you can leave Blaviken and finally live. You choose, princess."

Geralt leads Roach up the small hill as you walk past Renfri to follow, she stands there a moment in defeat before turning her head to face your retreating forms, "What if that's not my final choice? What if I want more? What if I deserve it?"

Geralt halts as you pause your movement to face Renfri, "Then what? Kill him and be done with it? You deserve your wrath, but he deserves lasting fear for his own crimes. Maybe that old fuck was right and the daughters born under the Black Sun would bring chaos to this world...however that time is long done with. Lilit isn't coming, and you can choose to be free."

"He deserves death."

"He does, but if you kill him. You will always be hunted for this." You explain truthfully, "Renfri, you could leave this all behind and know he will always fear you for the rest of your days, is that not enough? Must you murder and be prosecuted for it too? Never free, never to travel in peace again? Is that what you want?"

Her scowl begins to slowly turn into a deep frown at your insightful words of wisdom. She knows you're right but cannot stop how her heart and soul feels towards everything she's ever set her mind to in regards to this wizard. She glares at the ground while you turn to travel elsewhere at last, the both of you leaving Renfri by the stream to deal with her own conflicted thoughts.

——

"Are you talking to Roach again about your monster slaying?" You quip as a smirk dances across your face. He looks up at you from petting Roach to shake his head with an embarrassed smile as he promptly walks over to sit upon a log and continue his grinding of that healing herb from earlier.

He glances up at you as you approach him, "Oh how I've missed your witty mouth." Muses Geralt with a half smile as you take off your cloak and go to sit down next to him.

"I just went to take a piss, calm your thoughts." He chuckles in amusement as your eyes find his hand, watching intently a he focuses his attention onto the boring task, "What hurts now?"

"Nothing. This is for when I actually get injured." You click your tongue in reply, an appealing idea popping into your mind while you silently move your hand, letting your fingers lightly touch his thigh.

Biting your lip you try and watch for a sign, "Why don't you use those strong hands of yours for something less, tedious." He immediately halts his actions, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he slowly turns his head to you. Raising an eyebrow at your more sensual implications.

"If the lady insists." He mutters, setting the bowl onto the leafy forest floor as he leans in closer to you, your lips making heated contact.

Under the cover of darkness, with only the small burning of the dwindling firelight do you make love to your Witcher until the moon sits high into the night sky. He feels amazing and works as a much needed distraction from the tiresome events of the day, you being the same for him.

You wake up with a start as Geralt mumbles Renfri's name, waking himself up in the process from whatever strange dream he must have been having. Suddenly your eyes go wide in realization, Renfri had claimed she would leave Blaviken in the morning, but you think otherwise.

"The market."

——

You and Geralt walk through the dreary village, no cloaks or thick leather armor adorning either one of your bodies except for your gauntlets and the thicker laced material around your torso. He carries his silver sword in his right hand, holding the blade upwards as to conceal it better from anyone directly in front of him. You walk steadily by his side, your dagger sheathed at your hip, you haven't come here to shed blood. But you know better then to assume otherwise, your suspicions further coming to light when your crimson eyes lock onto the balding bulldog looking man from yesterday in the tavern. One of Renfri's men, he looks ready to fight, with a smirk upon his smug face and a strange weapon clutched in his right hand, more of Renfri's men gathering behind him.

He spits at your feet, "She knew you two'd come." Assures the man, stopping a small distance away from you and Geralt, about five more of her followers spread about behind him.

"Where's Renfri?" Grumbles Geralt calmly, not particularly fond of what may follow.

"She's at the tower with your little friend, Marilka." The bald one sneers, a grim smile still holding onto his lips. A dark haired man in dirty faded green clothing with soot smeared about his lean face steps forward, standing next to the bald one.

"She gave us a message to pass on to you both. You have to choose the lesser evil." Challenges the dark haired man. The lesser evil, hmm.

A slightly fatter man steps forth, "It's an ultimatum." He insists while pulling out his sword from its sheath, "Get it?"

Half of them are giving you nasty smirks as they bare their own weapons, sure of themselves in how things are about to turn out for them, they have no idea just how fucked they truly are. Though you'd rather not begin this insignificant battle considering they're just men who have been blinded and manipulated by a rightfully furious princess. Why can't they just all fuck off to the woods and maybe fall down a hill?

They move in place, all ready to do some damage when another one spits at the ground. "Fuck." Mutters Geralt as he shares a dismal glance with you. No sooner does this happen do your ears prick at the familiar sound of a crossbow trigger being pressed, thus launching an arrow that slices through the air with a distinctive sing.

Time slows and you watch as a sharp arrow follows its masters path straight for Geralt's chest, in an instant he cuts it down from its path with a swift ploy of his sword. The arrow falls to the muddy ground, forgotten as soon as another man charges him, yelling out a battle cry as he ignores you, heading directly for Geralt with a quick swing of his sword. A man with an axe catches your gaze, rage in his grey eyes as he gives you an ugly smile before making a heated dash in your direction.

He swings his axe up in preparation for the death blow he's about to give, in the precious seconds that he takes to keep his arms up, you take this opportunity to unsheathe your dagger and drive it straight through his vulnerable skull. Pulling it out he instantly falls to the ground with a hard thud, blood spurting everywhere; another man throws his sword at you while admitting his own battle cry.

You skillfully duck under his powerful swing, bringing your dagger up to slice open his torso in the process, his screams filling the morning air as his insides fall out of him, you don't look back to watch as he falls, dying in the mud. You race past the crossbowman who's still frantically loading in another bolt, Geralt taking care of the dark haired man in the background.

Four more of Renfri's men charge at you, swords in one hand and shields in the other. A large man screams at you as he throws his heavy sword towards your shoulder, you quickly manifest yourself into a pack of screeching black bats. Flying yourself past the surprised man and his other friends before shifting back into your original form. They turn towards you in frightful bewildered confusion, completely taken aback by your unexpected display of abilities. In this time you quickly jab your dagger through the throat of the last man closest to you. Blood spurts out of his fresh wound as you take a step back, suddenly the other three are thrust backwards by the force of Geralt's magic. One of them quickly recovers and launches himself in your direction, leaving his two other companions to die at the hands of the Witcher.

He smartly keeps his shield in front of him for protection as he swings his sword at you. You turn to your right and jump up onto the wooden wall of someone's house as the man slashes at you, missing his target. You jump down behind him and in one swift motion pull his head back, slitting a deep cut into his throat. He falls to the ground, choking on his own blood as he bleeds out into the dirty streets of the market. In an instant Geralt is at your side when you hear the terrified shrieks of Marilka, who's trapped in the deadly clutches of Renfri, a silver blade pressed against her neck.

You stay where you are as Geralt slowly approaches Renfri, he keeps his sword lowered to the ground as she watches wide eyed and fuming.

"You chose." She whispers, shocked at how fast everything went to shit, her plans now ruined.

"Let the girl go." He pleads, Renfri looks down at Marilka in disgust, blade still closely pressed against her neck.

She scoffs, "I will kill her. I will kill everyone here until Stregobor comes down." She hisses, venom practically dripping off of her tongue.

"Leave Blaviken." Inquires Geralt as he pinches his fingers together, ready to use destructive magic on her, "It's not to late."

"Magic doesn't work on me." Fumes Renfri as Marilka whimpers beneath her arms, "Silver does, though." She adds softly, a look of pure hate upon her dirt smudged features.

"Silver is for monsters."

Renfri suddenly shoves Marilka to the side as she throws her blade upon her left arm, the fight of a lioness coursing through her veins.

"If we cross swords..." States Geralt cautiously as he begins to back up.

"I won't be able to stop." Breaths Renfri while advancing forward towards Geralt.

You watch as she skillfully lays into him, blocking his swings as he does the same with each of her deadly hits. He suddenly gains the upper hand and pins her against a wall, a second later she stabs him in the abdomen with her hidden dagger. He pulls back as she slashes at him once again, rage fueling her motives, they dance in the marketplace. The clashing of silver on silver and their heavy breathing is all that you can hear besides the beating of their hearts as blood pumps through them, adrenaline coursing throughout their systems.

You want to stop her, but this is their fight. Honor among warriors keeps you to the sidelines, this would be unfair of you to join him.

Without warning she slashes Geralt's muscular thigh, sending him to the ground with a grunt from the quick pain, in an instant she's thrusting her dagger towards his throat. But before she has a chance to lay anymore life threatening damage you swiftly block her small blade with your own weapon. Time to intervene apparently. Her face glares at you as she pulls back, your body hastily stepping in front of Geralt as he tries to gather himself, his leg throbbing in pain.

You carefully eye up the princess, "You should have left Blaviken." She smirks at your remark before swinging her sword at you. Quickly dodging her blow you shift to the side as she advances forward, launching more attacks left and right, you're able to block them with your dagger as this weapon's large enough to clash with hers. It doing enough damage on its own, even against her sword.

"No man can kill me." She hisses breathlessly as you clash your silver dagger against her shinning sword, she moves to the side as you skillfully thwart another one of her deadly assaults.

You lightly chuckle at her proclamation, "I am no man." You snap, whipping your body around to block another heated blow, she simply sneers at you, her eyes flashing with hatred.

Another slash of her sword sends you reeling backwards, your dangerous waltzing taking you and her between two houses and into another courtyard. When she brings her sword towards your stomach you quickly grab the hilt right out of her hand, taking her by surprise at your abrupt strength and inhuman reflexes. You point the ruthless silver at her jugular, your eyes two glowing rubies staring into her black stormy irises. She stares you down defiantly, nothing in her cold dark eyes but rage, you almost pity her.

Breathing heavily, you cautiously twist her sword in your hand so that your grip is holding it easier, keeping it close to her skin the whole time. You throw your large dagger to the ground, pulling away her sword from her throat and bringing it down to your side. Her brows furrow but only for a moment before she thrusts her dagger en route for your own windpipe. Dropping your sword, you quickly catch her hands clutched around her weapon with incredible speed as you then turn it around to face her. The blade pushes soundlessly into her flesh as you step closer, your blood spotted sweaty faces inches apart as her eyes go wide in realization.

You blink, pulling the dagger out with a shling sound in its wake, blood seeps out of it in a shiny tide of crimson enough to match the color of your saddened eyes. You hold her in your left arm, sword in your right, she stares up at you with nothing. You suddenly feel dreadful.

"The girl in the woods will be with near you always. She is his destiny." Gasps Renfri quietly as she searches for your eyes as something to hold onto before she's gone from this world. She didn't want this and neither did you, but she chose.

You can't help but feel horrible at what you've just done, none of this shit should have ever happened to her, she could of had a wonderful life with happy days and laughter. Instead she got betrayal and blood from the hands of a wicked wizard and his ill intent. You slowly lower her dying body onto the soft ground as shaky breaths rush from your lips. She's growing paler as a river of blood runs out of her wounds, dripping onto the mud.

Your expression contorts into a conflicted frown, you feel unbelievably terrible. "Rest now." You softly speak a last kindness, a pained expression painted across your face as you watch the light from her eyes dissipate away. When you rise from the ground Geralt stands quietly before you, a soft gaze lingering with your somber one.

"Why does it always end this way?" You wonder, anger rising into your words. Geralt lowers his head, reaching down to pick up your discarded dagger. He hands it to you, blood smeared over the hilt and blade. You walk away from the dead laying in the dry mud, Geralt following you.

—-

"Incredible. Marilka. Marilka? Marilka! Get me a cart." Demands Stregobor as he turns his head away from an approaching Geralt, "We'll take her to the tower for an autopsy."

He holds his sword up to the old wizards neck, "If you touch a single hair on her head, yours will be on the ground next." Growls Geralt, not an ounce of falsehood lacing his words. Stregobor gives him a quizzical look as you step closer to the two of them, irritation glaring back at him through eyes of crimson.

"Have you gone mad? Her mutation, it influences people. That's how she got these men to follow her. We need to take it." Insists the wizard, pausing for a moment to study Geralt's face, he tilts his head knowingly, "She got to you too, didn't she? That's why your beast had to slay her, jealousy perhaps." He concludes, glancing to you for a split second with a punchable smirk upon his aging features.

"Do not...touch her." Hisses Geralt in a low and menacing tone, Stregobor seemingly unaffected by his threats.

"Witcher." He states in the tone of a disappointed father, "You butchered bodies in the streets of Blaviken, with the princess of night at your side, killing at your command." He rules out, a crowd of shocked villagers gathering close by, sending angry looks your way.

"You're a beast." Shouts one man.

"You've both endangered the girl." Cries a woman.

"Beast!"

"She'll turn us into night creatures next.."

"Killers!"

Stregobor simply half smiles, "You took the law into your own hands." More insults are screamed and yelled at by the growing crowd of displeased rowdy villagers, "You both made a choice. And you'll never know if it was the right one." He whispers, pleased with how things have turned out for him.

Suddenly a rock cracks you in the side of your temple, another one catching Geralt on the side of his head as people from the crowd shout more insults and heated threats. He kneels to the ground, picking up Renfri's brooch as more rocks bounce off of his back. You keep onto your feet, glaring at Stregobor from the hood of your eyes as you tilt your head down, your hands balled into tight fists at your sides while more rocks are being thrown at you. Marilka walks in front of the two of you, a pitifully disappointed look upon her young face.

Her lip trembles, "Get out of Blaviken, the both of you. Don't ever come back." She warns as tears well up in the corners of her hazel eyes, Geralt slowly stands as he turns a downcast look in your direction. You give a small nod in mutual understanding, it's time to go. As you turn on your heel and take a step forward, the people of Blaviken immediately go silent as they watch your every move.

They back away as you and Geralt pass through the dreary streets on your way out of the village, soon they gain their confidence back as they scream and curse, clenching their fists. A couple bold teenagers chucking more stones, aiming to shed blood. Aiming to feel strong.

You and your Witcher keep your heads down, eyes upon the dirt as they scream and harass you both all the way to the gates. You make your way for the woods, dirt and blood marking unkindly upon your dispirited features.

Everything feels so wrong, and your head feels cloudy with troubled thoughts and dismal images. You just wanted to travel to Blaviken to get Geralt some new clothes, this is not how you intended for things to go.

Tagged: @notahappytree @ashleyforeverareject @sokkasdarling @kmuir1@haleypearce (@auds24 sorry idk why ur name won’t work)

#the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #the witcher #falcor the luck dragon stories #Of monsters and men fic

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httpsaiki · 4 years ago

Text

Campfires and Confessions (Kusuo Saiki x Reader)

Angsty at the start but ends off cute! Reader is gender neutral in pronouns (as in no she/he) but it is slightly implied the reader is female in one small part.

WC: 1627

Italics are Kusuo “speaking” aka telepathy.

In which the reader and friends are on a camping trip, but they convince themself that their feelings will not be reciprocated.

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

You and your friend group had decided that going camping together would be a great idea this summer. That’s how you, 3 girls (being Teruhashi, Yumehara, and Mikoto) and 4 boys (being Nendou, Kaidou, Saiki, and Kuboyasu) ended up here, sitting around this campfire. Generally, you’d been having a wonderful time. All of you were somewhere that was free from regular day to day responsibilities and overbearing adult figures. It was rather nice, except for one small thing.

Saiki Kusuo. One of your closest friends and incidentally also your crush. There had been many times you’d considered telling Saiki about how you felt but stopping yourself every time out of pure respect for his clear boundaries. Over the past couple of weeks, you started to realize maybe you weren't as close as you thought you were. You had begun to convince yourself you were nothing more than a bother for Saiki and had contemplated distancing yourself from him. Would it be better for him? Would it make him happy for you to give him the space you felt he desired so badly?

Ultimately, you decided it would be better to leave him alone. The very last thing you wanted was to cause any further trouble for Saiki and you knew that more than anything he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. It wouldn’t be easy, considering how close you thought you had become but you knew you’d be able to manage. You had all your other wonderful friends with you and this may be a great chance to get even closer with some of them. What’s a better way to bond than being stuck in the wilderness for a week?

You had been zoned out for a while now and were surprised to see Teruhashi’s hand waving in front of your face.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Teruhashi asked you, a rather clear worried expression on her face.

“Yeah! I’m fine.” You managed to get out unphased. Thankfully, the worried expression was wiped off of her face and was replaced with a gorgeous, glowing smile.

“I’m glad, Y/N! Anyways, we were talking about heading back to our tents for the night, but some of the boys are staying out. Are you coming?”

Thinking for a moment about her question, you glanced over at where Saiki was sitting, trying to deduce if he’d be heading in for the night too. Seeing that he was getting ready to pack up, you decided you were in the clear to stay out longer.

“I think I’ll be staying out a little longer. I’d like to chat!” You said eagerly in reply.

“Alright, Y/N. Just don’t stay out too late, okay? Good night!”

“Goodnight, Teruhashi!”

Moving your gaze towards whoever had chosen to stay outside, you see only Kuboyasu and Kaidou. They would be fun to talk to. The three of you talked about nothing and everything until the sun had fully set and countless stars painted the deep night sky. You decided to ask about Saiki. They were rather close to him, and you trusted them enough not to tattle.

“I have a weird question. It’s about Saiki.” You tested the waters with that. If they didn’t react too well, you’d just ask something unimportant like his favourite sweets, or manga series.

“What’s up Y/N?” Kuboyasu was quick to reply, obviously curious as to what you wanted to know. Kaidou also tilted his head out of curiosity.

“Well… do you know if Saiki likes anyone?”

Kaidou was even faster to jump in.

“I can’t say for sure, as he doesn’t express… much emotion. I’m not sure.”

The small look of victory on your face gave everything you felt towards Saiki away to the two boys in front of you. Maybe you did have some chance. Kuboyasu smirked at you, promising that he and Kaidou would keep quiet about your little crush.

Finally getting tired, and rather satisfied with what you had learned tonight, you said your goodnights to Kuboyasu and Kaidou who promptly did the same. You quietly made your way into your shared tent with Teruhashi, seeing her already fast asleep. Settling in for the night, it wasn’t long before you fell asleep too.

The next morning you were one of the first awake. Climbing out of the tent, you were greeted by none other than Nendou and Yumehara. The two of them were busy cooking breakfast for the group, something you were extremely thankful for.

Once everyone was awake and had eaten, you all left for a hike up the trail that was near your campsite. The walk was nice, and it was a good time being with your friends. You were lucky enough to end up walking next to Mikoto and Yumehara at some points, actually having a nice time with her. You had forgotten how well the three of you got along. Nevertheless, you still managed to avoid Saiki.

Meanwhile, during all of this, your thoughts were becoming unbearable to Saiki. He knew why you weren’t talking to him, but it didn’t mean a little part of him didn’t miss your company. Saiki was surprised to realize he couldn’t stand knowing you thought he disliked you or was picking someone else over you. It wasn’t the case, at all. It had taken his all not to telepathically tell you you’re wrong and he wanted you to come to talk to him. He knew he had to do something about it himself.

Walking up to you, he said he knew you’d been dodging him and asked you to meet him by the lake that evening when most of the group had turned in for the night.

Surprised by Saiki’s sudden looming presence over your shoulder, you hesitantly agreed to meet him there tonight. A part of you was excited, not knowing what caused him to suddenly ask you that. Another part of you was filled with doubt. You had no idea what he wanted you for. Was it possible he was mad at you? For a split second, you considered not going. Then the rational part of you took over, this is Saiki we’re talking about, and suddenly you were nearly certain he wouldn’t pull you aside to yell at you. You made up your mind, you were going to meet Saiki by the lake tonight.

Once night arrived, you quietly headed out towards the nearby river. As soon as you found it, you spotted Saiki, sitting on a picnic blanket, with a basket beside him. It was quite the sight to behold, Saiki was rather pretty, seemingly shining from the moonlight that wrapped around his shape.

And so was the scenery. The lake was serene, peaceful in every sense of the word. The moon and glowing stars reflected perfectly in the still water, with nothing daring to disturb the perfect atmosphere. It was stunning, and in any case, you were mesmerized by the seemingly glowing lake in front of you.

Silently, you sat down beside Saiki, only for him to start talking right away.

“Y/N. Listen. I know this is going to be a lot, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

This was worrying. Was he okay? You looked at him with a worried expression painted on your face,

“What is it, Saiki?”

He took in air, clearly nervous. This was out of character for him.

“I’m a psychic. I have many abilities, ones I won’t get into right now as there is one I need to tell you about. I can read minds… I constantly hear thoughts telepathically, including yours.”

Oh. Oh no. This wasn’t good. So he knew? Is that what this was about? Feeling the panic rush over you, you closed your eyes and hid your face as you started tearing up. You had no idea how to react. You’d never been more certain Saiki hates you.

“I like you too.”

Your head shot up immediately. Saiki.. felt the same way? Despite everything, he didn’t dislike you? He wasn’t annoyed by you? Even though he knew what you were thinking that whole time?

“Far from it. I do like you.” Saiki said, reaching to rub your back and help calm you down.

“I can’t believe this...” You were practically shaking from shock. You were happy, despite knowing he could read your thoughts this whole time. If it couldn’t be helped then you supposed you’d have to accept it. Though, both you and Saiki were surprised at how easily you accepted his powers. He was still Saiki, after all. Nothing had changed that, nor would it ever.

“I should ask to be official, Y/N, will you go out with me?”

“I think you already know the answer to that. Yes, of course, I will.” You were surprised by how calm and steady your voice was.

“I apologize I never said anything sooner. I didn’t want to give myself away.”

“Oh, Saiki, I understand. You don’t need to be sorry.”

“I know it was only a few days, I missed you.”

You smiled at him, “I missed you too.”

Saiki slid over towards you, adjusting his body so you could place your head on his shoulder. Which you did, and he placed his head on yours. Opening the picnic basket that had been long forgotten, you and Saiki enjoyed a nighttime snack sitting out by the gorgeous lake.

“So... you’re a psychic? Will you show me what you can do?”

Saiki couldn’t believe what he was about to say. Good grief, you brought out the best in him. Not that he minded. He was glad you accepted him, and he trusted you enough to keep his secret. He looked over at you and gave a small smile.

“Gladly.”

#the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki no psi nan #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki k #saiki kusuo #my writing

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ezrasarm · 4 years ago

Text

More Than Friends

Pairing: Frankie Morales x demisexual!reader

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: Some angst, some fluff, discussions of sexuality

A/n: This isn’t my usual spiel and it wound up getting a whole lot angstier than intended but this fic means a lot to me and I would really appreciate it if you took the time to read it and let me know what you think because I am nErVoUs about posting it and in need of validation 😬😂

Just a wee disclaimer: Demisexuality is a pretty broad term and the way people experience it is all across the board so I’d like you to keep in mind that this draws heavily from my own experience with identifying this way (which I am very new to). If you would like to learn more about demisexuality there are some wonderful resources here at demisexuality.org and my inbox is always open if you’re curious.

[ masterlist ]

It was a complicated thing to explain to people who didn’t understand- who didn’t want to understand. “That’s how it is for everyone.” “You just haven’t found the right person yet.” “I can change that”. You’d gotten tired of being told the experience that was very much real to you didn’t exist, that your identity didn’t exist, of being labelled a prude or being told you were just nervous. Feeling that desire and choosing not to act was one thing but it was another thing entirely not being able to.

When you found yourself in a position where you had to explain yourself to him, you needed him of all people to understand that the way you felt had absolutely nothing to do with him. You had tried. You thought there was a chance you might get there with him but the longer you waited for that connection to form, for that feeling to come, the more you realized you were wasting both of your time.

You were terrified as you walked into the cafe to tell him that just like all the other people you had tried to broach this topic with before he wouldn’t believe you. He wouldn’t get it. He’d shrug it off and tell you that you didn’t know what you were talking about. That he’d get offended and take your lack of attraction to him personally. That he’d overreact. That he’d blame you for stringing him along. But you had to rip the bandaid off. He’s a reasonable person right? He won’t do that. You were just psyching yourself out. It would be fine.

Or not.

You were distraught by the time you were supposed to meet the boys at the bar that night. You hadn’t meant to hurt him. Why did he have to look at you that way? Why did he have to say it like that? “Right, I thought as much.” He had frowned down at his coffee. What was that even supposed to mean? Why couldn’t he have taken your word for it? Why couldn’t you have faked it till you made it? Why couldn’t you feel something? You questioned yourself as you got in the door, shuffling around in your purse for your phone before dialling Frankies number. You couldn’t do this tonight, you couldn’t run around pretending everything was fine when you had been lonely for so goddamn long and this fell through too.

You got his voice mail and hoped it wasn’t because he was already on the road. Of all the times for him to decide to be early, you hoped it wasn’t this one. “Hey, Frankie, it’s me. I hope you’re not already on your way here, I just- I’m not feeling up for tonight. I think I might be coming down with something and don’t want to get everyone sick.” You say when you get his voice mail, sniffing back your onslaught of tears before concluding the call with a “Anyway say hi to everyone for me and I’ll see you later.” before hanging up, your voice finally breaks into a sob when you drop your phone onto the couch and collapse into the cushions next to it with an aggravated and teary-eyed sigh.

As though by some cruel joke the universe had decided to play on you today it's hardly five minutes later when a knock sounds at your door and you just about have to suppress an exasperated laugh as you wipe the tears from your eyes with your shirt sleeve and go to get it.

“Hey, you ready to-” Frankie is cut off when his phone buzzes in his pocket and his brows furrow for a brief second when he goes to check it. “Oop, hang on I got a message.” He declares, “Hey look, it’s from you!” He says, throwing a wiggle of his eyebrows in your direction as you fold your arms in front of you and lean against the doorframe waiting for the penny to drop. It takes a second before you watch the grin slowly fall from his face and he finally takes in the puffiness around your eyes and the stray tear which had managed to escape your hurried attempts at wiping them away.

“You don’t look sick.” He notes solemnly after a brief pause and your gaze drops to your feet at the shame of being caught in a lie. Great, now he was looking at you all hurt too.

“That’s ‘cause I’m not.” You sniffle back, finding it even harder to withhold your emotions now that he’s standing right in front of you.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” He asked, trying to usher you inside despite the resistance you give him.

“Nothing really. You should go to the party. I’ll be fine.” You insist but he’s already managed to wiggle you both through the door and drag you back into the living room.

“And leave you here on your own? Not a chance!” He insists as he plops you down on the couch motioning for you to stay put with a warning hand gesture and glare as he dials into his phone. “Hey Pope, somethings come up, we won’t be able to make it tonight but be sure to give Will a punch in the arm from me and a ‘Happy birthday’ from (y/n) and we promise we’ll make up for it next week,” There’s a momentary pause before Frankie nods. “Yup, will do, Hermano. Bye,” he says as he hangs up shoving the phone back in his pocket before taking a seat next to you.

“Frankie, You shouldn’t have done that. I already told you I’m fine.” You sigh.

“And I already told you that I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.” He replies stubbornly, he’s clearly been hanging out with Santiago too much lately.

“You didn’t, but it’s good to know what I’m in for.” You huff out through a laugh that comes off a lot more bitter than you had hoped.

“I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s wrong, Hermosa,” He says, brushing his thumb up and down across the knuckles you hadn’t even realized he’d taken in his hand until now.

“This isn’t something you can fix Frankie! That’s exactly the problem!” You snap, tears threatening your waterline again.

“What is? What’s the problem?” He exclaims and you realize the situation you’ve placed yourself in for the second time today.

“I broke things off with Andrew today.” You say not expecting him to look quite as shocked as he did.

“Did something happen?” He asked. He could understand you being upset over a breakup but he had never seen you quite like this before.

“No, nothing happened he just- I couldn’t-” You cut yourself off trying to figure out how you can phrase this for it to make sense.

“I really liked him just not in the way he wanted me to.” You say, your gaze falling to where Frankie’s thumb had stopped rubbing circles on your knuckle as he tried to figure out what it was you were saying. “He was dropping some pretty heavy signs that he wanted to…” You sigh trying to decide if you really wanted to get into this with him. “I can’t feel sexually attracted to anyone unless I have a strong emotional connection with them first.” You say probably a bit too abruptly. With the way he’s looking at you now, this clearly wasn’t the direction he had expected this conversation to take and you’re already wondering if you’ve made a mistake by telling him. “And just because I have an emotional connection with them doesn’t necessarily mean I’ll ever get to that point with them.” There’s a beat before he responds and you’ve already braced yourself for the worst when instead-

“And you didn’t have that with him?” He asks. You feel your heart, which you hadn’t realized had been hammering in your chest, settle slightly. He was so understanding that for a second you thought he didn’t understand.

“I wanted to.” You say. “I thought maybe if I got to know him better it might develop- that I might be able to like him that way-” You shake your head hesitantly. “But it didn’t- I couldn’t.” You whispered, your head hung low in disappointment. “He didn’t take it very well.” You tried to say but you could already feel your throat tightening at the thought of the look on his face and the words echoing through your head. “I didn’t want to hurt him I just-“ More tears spilled down your cheeks and Frankie was quick to pull you into his chest, his fingers carding through your hair as you buried your face in his neck. “I didn’t want to be alone anymore and I thought-” A choked sob escapes you and Frankies grip on your waist grows just a little tighter.

“We don’t get to choose who we are and aren’t attracted to.” He whispers into the crown of your head, hating the look of shame he had seen on your face only moments ago. Hating the way you blamed yourself for something you clearly had no control over, hating that he didn’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry he didn’t understand.” He murmured with his lips still pressed to your hair line, his free hand smoothing up and down your arm gently, waiting for your breathing to even out.

There’s a long pause before he speaks again. He knows now probably isn’t the best time to ask this question but it won’t stop nagging at him and he doesn’t know when else he would ever have the courage to. “What about me?” He swallows heavily, after a while, not exactly sure what kind of answer he’s expecting. “Have you ever thought of me that way?” He pries and for a second you’re shocked that his mind even went there. Did he want you to think of him that way? Did he ever think of you that way?

You take a moment to mull over the question, your curiosity for where he was going with it managing to outweigh your fear of giving him an answer when your mind wanders back to the way your heart used to hammer in your chest when he walked into a room and how he was the only one who ever came to mind when you so much as considered the possibility of getting intimate with someone. “I’ve thought about you that way before, yeah.” You admit, lifting your head from his shoulder to look him in the eye.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” He asks, eyes softening as he wonders how many awful dates he could have saved you from if he had just known a little sooner that you thought of him as anything more than a friend.

“Because you were married when I realized it and by the time you weren’t I’d come to terms with it and I didn’t want to screw anything up between us.” You explain truthfully. The entire situation had been so complicated when it started that you wrote off the idea before you could even consider it fully and now he was asking you all these questions and you felt like a fool for not having seen it sooner.

“Do you still?...think of me that way?”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Would you want to try giving me a chance?” He asks, wearily. “We can take it as slow as you want, there’s no pressure-”

“I’d like that.”

[ masterlist ]

Permanent Taglist: @agirllovespancakes @chaoticspaceidiot @engineeredfiction @pedropascalito @wickedfrsgrl @hillarymurray4 @din-damn-djarin @yespolkadotkitty @wille-zarr @oloreaa @this-cat-is-dea @marydjarin @roxypeanut @opheliaelysia @cryptkeepersoul @prxtty-boah @aliciaxglasgow @elena-myth @theocatkov @bioticgoddess @edencherries @kandomeresbitch @mrsparknuts @hayley-the-comet @rachelxwayne @thirstworldproblemss

Pedro Boys Taglist: @theravenreads @mrschiltoncat @seasonschange-butpeopledont @chaotic-noceur @deafspaceperson

Frankie “Catfish” Morales Taglist: @rebelhan @thepjofanqueen

+ @reluctantlyresponsibleadult

#frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales x you #demisexual!reader #demisexual #triple frontier fanfiction #Frankie Morales x demisexual!reader #frankie morales x demi!reader

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peakyswritings · 4 years ago

Text

Something pure

Requested by: anonymous.

A/N: okay this took AGES, I’m so sorry for the wait. It also turned out longer than expected, I wanted to give a little background to the request and things got out of hand lmao. I hope you like it⭐️

Summary: Luca had never felt something so pure before, he would do anything to preserve it. Even if it means hiding his feelings from the woman he loves. Little does he know, it’s not enough to keep harm out of your way.

Warnings: mentions of violence, description of signs of physical harm, semi-nudity (no smut)

The gif is not mine, credits to the owner.

You wished you could say you knew what you were getting into when you met Luca Changretta. That you were prepared for what was coming, that you were fully aware of the risks that you were taking by being involved with a mafia man. But you couldn’t.

You were just a small-town girl who moved to New York to seek her fortune, fascinated by the myth of the life in the city, a life that until a couple of months prior you had only dreamed. You had never found yourself close to the underworld, never been in trouble; you lived a quiet life in your family home, spending your days helping your mother or reading some books under the shade of the old tree in your garden, right in front of the swing that your father had hung on the branches when you were a child. Even though you were grateful for the way your parents had raised you, you were looking for something more. You didn’t want to spend your whole life in the dull countryside, so you packed your things and moved to New York, with a suitcase in one hand and your dreams in the other.

You had started working for an Italian tailor who made suits in a basement in Mott Street, Fenacci. You had a bit of experience, you were good at what you did, it wasn’t hard for you to obtain the job.

The first time you met Luca, you didn’t know what he did for a living, what he was capable of.

You were drowning in your work, when you heard the bell on the door ring as a tall man that you had never seen before entered the shop like he owned the place. Your co-worker slightly nudged you to get your attention, leaning towards you with a cautious look on her face.

“Whatever he wants, it’s on the house” she whispered, sitting straight again to get back to work. You nodded, still confused by her strange behaviour. Taking a look around, you noticed that the room had fallen so silent that you could hear a pin drop, everyone was focusing on their work and no one dared to look at the man.

You didn’t understand why no one talked to him or asked him what he needed, nor why he just walked around the shop without asking for the help of the shop assistants. Being a naturally shy girl, it was hard for you to talk to people, so you had to gather up the courage before addressing to him. “Can I help you, sir?”

After your question, almost everyone stopped what they were doing, looking at you like you were gone crazy. You nervously fidgeted with your pencil, wondering what you did wrong.

The man, that was previously looking at some suits with his back to you, slowly turned around, clearly taken aback by the fact that someone had the nerve to talk to him. When his green eyes landed on you, you could see a hint of amusement in them.

“Are you new?” he asked with a thick accent, taking some steps towards your table. You nodded, already feeling your face becoming red with embarrassment.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n y/l/n”

He stopped in front of you, holding back a smile at the sight of your red cheeks. It didn’t take him long to understand that you had no idea of who he was. Your awkwardness was due to your shyness, not fear. You didn’t lower your head when he walked into the shop and you weren’t afraid of talking to him.

“Thank you for your politeness, miss Y/l/n, but I’m just here to see my uncle”

You stayed silent for a while, looking closely at him. An aura of power and authority surrounded him, he looked strong and self-confident. At the same time, he also seemed polite and good-mannered and you wondered why his presence caused everyone to be so on edge. Before you could say another word, a man appeared from the door behind you, interrupting your brief conversation.

“Your uncle is waiting for you in his office, mr Changretta”

In response, he dismissed him with a gesture, turning to look at you again.

“It was nice meeting you, miss Y/l/n” he said, tipping his hat and walking towards the door that led to Fenacci’s office.

When he closed the door behind him, everyone seemed to relax a bit.

“Is he Fenacci’s nephew?” you asked your co-worker, unable to hold back your curiosity.

“Yes, on his mother’s side” she confirmed, not raising her head from what she was working on.

“So that’s why his suits are on the house”

She giggled at your naive question, shaking her head.

“Oh, sweetheart, everything’s on the house for him”

******

At the end of your shift, you gathered your things and walked out the shop eager to go home, take a hot bath and relax for the rest of the night, worn out from working all day.

You still had to get used to the chaotic streets of New York, they were nothing like the peaceful and quiet countryside. A part of you was fascinated by everything that surrounded you, you had seen more in a week than in your entire life, things that you had only heard of on the radio or read about in the newspaper. On the other side, you had to admit that you were kinda scared, you felt so small and lost in the midst of all of those buildings.

Just a few feet away from the shop, you bumped into someone, too lost in your thoughts to pay attention to where you were going.

“I’m so sorry, I....” you started to apologise, but your voice dropped when you met a pair of familiar green eyes.

“Miss Y/l/n” mr Changretta greeted you, taking off his hat “don’t worry, it’s my bad”

You stayed silent for a moment, your awkwardness was keeping you from uttering a logical sentence. He cleared his throat, thankfully breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Are you done for the day?”

“Yes” you nodded “I’m going home”

“You’re not from here, are you?” he guessed, slightly smiling at you. He had probably noticed that you walked around like a lost puppy, jumping at every loud noise and keeping a careful eye on everything that surrounded you.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked with a hint of irony in your voice, feeling your embarrassment slowly slipping away.

“Just a bit” he chuckled “I can walk you home, if you’d like” he offered.

“Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to bother you, it’s not too far from here” you said. He probably had things to do, maybe he wanted to go home and he was just asking you out of politeness. You couldn’t deny that you wouldn’t have minded some company, though, since it was dark and you didn’t know those streets very well.

“It’s no bother at all” he replied “I can’t have you waking alone at this hour of the night”

You hesitated for a moment. After all, you didn’t know this man and everyone seemed terrified by him, maybe it wasn’t the best idea. However, he had done nothing to scare you away, he had been nice and polite and something told you that he wouldn’t have hurt you. So you accepted.

He came back to the shop the following day and the day after that and all the days after. Sometimes he needed a new suit, sometimes he needed to talk with his uncle, sometimes he just kept you company for a while. Every night, he walked you home after your shift. If he had had a busy day and couldn’t make it to the shop, he made sure to at least be there when you had to go home, so that you didn’t have to walk alone. The days became weeks and the weeks became months. The first week or so, you walked at a certain distance. Then you found yourselves walking a bit closer every day, until he started offering you his arm. You enjoyed those late-night walks with Luca, you felt comfortable around him and it was a new feeling for you. As time passed by, you couldn’t help but notice the way your heart seemed to beat a bit faster when you were close to him, or the way your cheeks flushed every time the two of you casually touched. You tried your best to ignore the way you felt, you were pretty sure that he didn’t feel the same way. He was confident, and handsome, he always knew the right words to say. You were shy, clumsy and hopelessly awkward, certainly not what he was looking for.

Little did you know, the things you were insecure about were the ones that got him falling for you. He loved how easily your cheeks turned red, the way you stumbled over your words, the smile that you often tried to hide. It made you real, genuine. When you felt comfortable enough to open up to him, he fell for you even more. He found himself looking forward to see you, the time he spent with you had become the best part of his day. He couldn’t deny the calmness and comfort that took over him every time you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow, walking side by side with him. Just like you, he had no intention of confessing his feelings for you. You were nice and innocent and he didn’t want to involve you in his dangerous life. Of course, during those months you had learned about what he did and even though you didn’t push him away, he was sure that you didn’t want anything to do with that kind of things. You were just too good for someone as violent and ruthless as him. Too good to be put in danger for his selfish desire. For that reason, walking you home was enough. If it meant to see you smile, to hear you talking about your day, to see the spark in your eyes when you talked about the things you loved, it was enough. It had to be enough, because it seemed to be the only way to have you close to him without dragging you into the rabbit hole with him. You wouldn’t have found Wonderland in there.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to keep you safe.

******

For the first time in months, you were going home alone. Luca had told you the previous day that he had an important meeting to attend to outside the city and that he couldn’t be there that night. You wrapped your coat tighter around your body, the freezing air was penetrating into your bones and you couldn’t feel your hands. It was later than usual, you had stayed in the shop an extra half-hour to help your co-worker clean up the place. The streets seemed emptier and darker, but maybe it was just the absence of the man that had walked with you until that night that made you feel like that.

It didn’t matter how much you tried, you couldn’t shake off the bad feeling that you got since you walked out the shop. There was a little voice in your head telling you to wait for your friend, but you chose to go out alone, eager to get home as soon as possible.

Only you weren’t alone.

When you turned around, you saw three men walking a few feet behind you. You turned again, telling yourself that they weren’t following you, that you were just being paranoid.

But what if they were?

You decided to cross the road, to make sure that they just gave you the wrong impression.

They crossed the road, too.

You took a deep breath. It’s just a coincidence.

You crossed the road again.

They did that, too.

Fear took over you as you started to walk faster, your heart was pounding in your chest, every muscle in your body was tense. Your knees were wobbly and you weren’t sure for how long you could have relied on your legs before they gave up. You couldn’t think straight and you felt like you had completely lost control of your body as it shook uncontrollably.

Then a pair of hands grabbed you.

******

Luca was surprised not to see you at work the following day. His uncle told him that you had called to say you were sick, asking for permission to take a couple of days off. It felt odd to him, you never missed work and you seemed fine the last time he saw you. He couldn’t help but get worried, he knew you didn’t have anyone in New York and he didn’t like the fact that you were alone when you were sick, with no one there with you if things got worse.

He had no idea of how bad it actually was.

The memories of the previous night were a blur, everything happened so fast that you didn’t even know where you got the strength to get up from the dirty ground of the alley and go home.

You took a deep breath, grabbing the closest steady thing for support as you got out of the bathtub, wincing in pain. You wrapped a towel around your shivering body, rubbing your hands up and down to warm up. You hadn’t even realised that the water had turned so cold. You sat on your bed, staring at the floor, the same sentence repeated in your head again and again.

Tell your friend that this is what happens when he doesn’t comply.

These were the words that one of the men said to you, right before leaving you in that dark alley, hurting and bleeding.

You didn’t know how much time had passed when you decided to get up from the bed, probably a lot, since your hair was dry. You wore your underwear and you walked towards the mirror. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. You still hadn’t had the courage to look at the state you were in, too scared to see what they did to you. But you had to know. You slowly opened your eyes, looking at your reflection. You started by looking at your face. You had a bruise and a cut on your right cheek and a split lip; then your eyes fell on your body, that surely got it the worst. There were several blue and purple marks scattered all over the upper part of your body, a giant bruise on the left part of your ribs, you had finger marks on your wrists and arms. Your knees were skinned and your legs were full of scratches. Your eyes watered at the sight. Your body would have healed, but you couldn’t say the same for your mind. You were terrified and the scenes kept on repeating themselves in your mind. You felt weak, frail and broken and you hated it.

Your thoughts were interrupted when someone knocked on the door. You quickly put on your robe, cautiously walking towards the door, trying to push back your fear. You opened the door, immediately relaxing when you saw Luca’s familiar face. However, comfort was soon replaced by agitation, you didn’t want him to see you like that. He opened his mouth to talk, but he closed it right after his eyes fell on you. His expression changed, you couldn’t quite decipher the look in his eyes. He gently placed a had under your chin, turning your head slightly to examine your bruise.

“Who did this to you?” he asked after what seemed an eternity, letting his hand fall.

“No one, I just fell” you lied, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him. He entered the house, closing the door behind him.

“Tell me the truth” he demanded. His voice was firm, but it didn’t lose the hint of kindness that he only reserved to you. When you didn’t answer, he placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to look you in the eyes.

“Y/n...” he started, stopping when you winced in pain. His eyes moved to the bruise that was poking out of your robe, right under your neck. He hesitated for a moment, before moving his hand to the string of your robe, silently asking you for permission. When you nodded, he untied it, leaving you in your underwear.

He felt anger quickly building up in him as he looked at your body, clenching his jaw. The thought of someone doing that to you unleashed something violent in him, a blind rage that he wasn’t sure he could contain. However, he tried his best to hide it for your sake. You were already scared, you didn’t need to witness one of his outbursts.

“Three men followed me home last night” you admitted, still not looking at him “they told me to tell you that this is what happens when you don’t comply”

Luca should have seen that coming. He didn’t need to admit his feelings to put you in danger, just being in his life made you a target. They observed him, they had been observing him for weeks, waiting for the right moment to make their move. He made a decision and you payed the consequences. That was the reason why he didn’t want to involve you in his life in the first place, because that’s how it worked. It was the biggest unspoken rule of that wicked world: innocent people were punished for someone to achieve what they wanted. You were innocent and they hurt you. You of all people didn’t deserve it. Anger was partly replaced by guilt and remorse, as he covered your body with the robe again, enveloping your trembling frame in his arms. You wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing your head against his chest as he gently stroked your hair.

“I’m sorry” he whispered “I know it means nothing right now, it doesn’t change what happened... but I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you in this mess”

You shook your head, holding him tighter. You didn’t blame him, not even in the slightest.

“It’s not your fault-”

“It is.” he interrupted you “They did this to you to get to me. It’s how it works, they hurt people we love to get to us”

You froze for a moment, trying to understand the meaning of his words. You raised your head, looking him in the eyes in a silent request for an answer.

“I love you, Y/n. I thought that you would be safe if I didn’t tell you, but I was wrong”

He cupped your face with his hands, being careful not to hurt you by touching your bruise. “And I want to protect you, I want to keep you safe.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. After all the pain that you had experienced, it almost felt like a dream, like something that your mind had made up to bring you some comfort. But it wasn’t a dream, Luca was right in front of you, telling you what you had hoped to hear for so long. “I love you, too” you uttered.

He slowly leaned towards you, moving his hands to your waist. He closed the space between you, his lips were soft on yours, he was gentle and his touch was feather-like, almost as if he was afraid you would break if he applied more pressure. You put your hands on his face, inviting him to deepen the kiss. Everything slowly became more urgent, he pulled you even closer while you ran a hand through his hair.

“No harm will come to you ever again” he said once he pulled away, caressing your cheek “I won’t let it. I’ll keep you safe. It’s a promise”

He meant that, he had never been more serious in his life. He never thought that he could feel something so pure and genuine, that someone could bring out the tenderness in him. He would have done anything in his power to protect it, to protect you.

And you believed him, because you had never felt safer.

Tag list: @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff

#peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fics #luca changretta imagine #luca changretta x reader

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fourfucksake · 4 years ago

Text

online meeting

pairing: chris evans x black!fem!reader

warnings: cursing, stripping, masturbation

word count: 4.2k

p.s this workpiece is set in an alternative reality. this is a professor!chris one shot + i imagined y/n as a black girl, but i hope every single one of you lovely people will read!

Heaps of new policies bombarded universities since the spread of the virus. The amount of preparation and paperwork that had to be completed due to the newest conditions in the teaching system made everyone stressed to the maximum level. Perhaps, that’s why teachers communicated more during those challenging times; only those who work in the same environment can relate to your work frustrations. Individuals whom before appeared almost invisible where now your online buddies. It was quite incredible though.

Chris enjoyed the feeling of this community being available for him whenever he feels like expressing his irritations and or simply desires to moan about his dislikes. Before, he has never considered himself to be a whiner, but since everyone has been constantly moaning and pouting, he thought this is the right time to join the club.

Taking into consideration the current state of the world he was assured that everyone is a complainer right about now. He was okay with that though. No doubt, he didn’t know much about psychology, however, it seemed only logical to allow people to talk about how they feel. Also, it appeared plausible people felt scared, confused, or worried. Hey, these were very surreal times. There was no reason to make others feel bad about having emotions.

Of course, there was some resentment towards certain members of University since all the teaching went online. Sometimes, Chris felt like most of his colleagues gave rats ass about regulations and procedures that were now put in place. Instead of trying to provide the best learning experience possible, they restricted themselves to slamming all the work materials online for students to figure everything out on their own.

Personally, he found online teaching unbearable and exhausting. He hated it; there were no words to describe how much he despised it. At first it was alright; it was tolerable and doable. In a way, it was nice. Being at home, able to wake up later than early morning hours. Being with his dog and going on long walks wherever he wished. Being able to take his time with cooking, exercising, reading. All of those mentioned were exceedingly pleasant.

However, Chris chose to be a teacher. He loved spreading his knowledge around. Since an early age he would teach his younger brother; he was much help when it came to revising, essay or exam tips. This was his passion, he loved it. This pandemic undeniably took this away from him. However, there was still room to provide students with knowledge this way, and he tried extremely hard to do so in most effective ways.

For example, he did not have to orchestrate his own online meetings to be this long. Half an hour, that was a long time slot. This was planned completely on purpose. Ultimately, his desire was to provide students with the time to talk to him, express their concerns, and ask questions. Maybe he took this job way too seriously, he thought, and it wasn't needed. However, there’s always this teacher everyone likes, and Chris wanted to be precisely that guy. It wasn't some stupid ego thing, not at all. He genuinely wanted people to feel like he is there for them and wants them to succeed. Every single individual had an ability to be successful, some just needed an extra push too keep them on track. Although his own schooling experiences where genuinely pleasant, he knew he would benefit more from University experience if he had a teacher like him. Not to lick his own ass, he thought, of course.

After years of working in the schooling system no errors have ever occurred. Until last year, when the last class prior to pandemic began their college journey. Back then and there a problem has arisen – you. It was no one else than little Miss Perfect, the girl who made him look twice when she entered the room. Oh, how tiring and fatiguing crushing on you really was. Chris was always collected and focused while working, but with you in his classes he found himself distracted. Often losing his train of thought, his mind shifted to dark places when your class sat in front of him. Chris was a perfectionist, so this was, in fact, greatly infuriating for him.

He did not feel this way since high school. Back in the day he was not the coolest kid you could walk past in the corridor. Thankfully, he has never had his head shoved in the toilet, but not being bullied did not necessarily mean there’s a successful high school experience behind an average American. In his own opinion, he was just a normal kid that had nothing to show for back then.

Precisely that, being average, was now the reason behind this familiar feeling. A pretty girl, a popular girl causing vivid emotions to flush down himself. Looking at her while she does the most ordinary things was the reason behind the uncomfortable state in his pants. His hormones went ill around her, reminding him of how tough being a teenage boy with no control over his erections was. It felt so familiar, craving her this badly, almost as if he’s done it before. Maybe, in a way, he compared you to someone he crushed on for the whole duration of high school. A beautiful skin complexion, addictive smile and those big, shiny eyes staring at his soul; those qualities of yours highly reminded him of her.

Chris remembered that girl very well. He recalled being fascinated by her presence, by her strong personality, and hypnotic prettiness. Her name did not pop up in his mind for years. Until he met you. Chris had Pearl, Pearl Bennett, tattooed on his brain back then. Needless to say, it was embarrassing how annoyingly beautiful she was. Just like you. Now, he didn’t even know if she was alive, he hasn’t seen her for years. It never really bugged him then, it didn’t bug him now. It was just a pleasant memory that he was able to recollect because of you.

He wasn’t sure about your feelings towards him. Mr. Novak, his colleague, often commented on the way some students would look at him. Chris regularly heard Novak claiming that Evans could get any of “that young pussy” if he only snapped his fingers. Whether it was true or not, he had no idea. Maybe, he was just humble. Or stupid, possibly very stupid.

The house was practically unoccupied now; his wife was dropping groceries off at her mum’s house and Dodger was nowhere to be found, most likely sleeping someplace in the house. Chris did not mind. In fact, he was relieved to have no other human being here. Since pandemic began his marriage decreased in its quality drastically. For quite some time existing relationship brought more annoyance than joy. He was not sure if it went both ways but noticing how regularly his wife exited their house in recent times it was healthy to assume the feeling was mutual.

How did he feel about his failed marriage? Weirdly, he was awfully okay with it. There was not a single part of him that cared enough to fight for this marriage any longer. Right now, all his thoughts were concentrated around another female. How she managed to look delicious without trying. How she smiled or laughed. How her faced twisted with grumpy expressions once she didn’t understand a certain concept of a lecture. Chris could go on, and on, and on.

It was not possible he could describe you in any other word than perfect. It was quite pathetic, he thought, it shouldn't be like that. Yes, you are a pretty girl and yes, no man can probably say no to you. There was just something about you, something so extraordinary that it took his breath away. What was this fascination? He wasn't sure. However, what he was positive about was that he enjoys looking at you. He enjoys listening to you. He enjoys thinking about you. He enjoys all those things way too much; he was aware of that. He was not ready to stop thinking about you just yet.

Now, sitting in front of his Mac, his eyes were focused on the screen. He wasn’t too up to date when it came to the modern technology, but he also wasn’t clueless to how to work a computer. Setting everything up, he glanced over at the previously printed list of names with time slots besides them. The list was not in alphabetical order, students had their half an hour available for the next eight hours of his life.

It would be a lie to say he was not thinking about you. He was looking forward to seeing your face, even if it’s only on the computer display. Your surname and student ID were somewhere halfway through the list. Naturally, he searched for your name straight away after the programme generated the list.

The ticking of the clock hanged on the nearby wall sounded out so clearly. Almost like a racing heart whenever one feels more strain than usual. He could feel the nervousness growing within him as the time passed. He almost felt bad for the kid who had his scheduled meeting right before you. Chris kept on stuttering, disconnecting, and asking for questions to be repeated. Unfortunately, there was no strength in him to think about the failed one-to-one since his brain was too concentrated on you. His favourite, little student.

His thought process was disrupted as a green dot appeared next to your surname, suggesting your online availability. Licking his lips and fixing his hair, his fingers position themselves on the mouse. One click and the signal began. Beep one, beep two, beep three.

“Hi, Mr. Evans!” Her bubbly voice caused Chris to smile. She waved and in response so did he. She seemed happy, her face expression indicated nothing but joy, he enjoyed it greatly. “Hi! How are you? How’s everything?” He asked with an honest curiosity, still smiling at his student. It’s been months since the last time they spoke without anyone else around. Of course, this was the first instance of them conversating in those settings, but he did not mind. Any type of physical interaction seemed impossible now and anytime soon. This was the best he could receive for a significant period for now.

Their faces didn’t shut for the first couple of minutes. Talking about the past months, Chris was quickly reminded of how smart and funny this girl infatuating really is. They seemed to be getting on well right from the first meeting. Weirdly, she had similar likes and dislikes as well as sense of humour. It was like talking to a long-term friend whom you haven’t seen in the longest time. He noticed her hair change, spotting the long knotless braids; in his opinion she looked completely stunning in this hairstyle. He was quick to comment on it and as a reply he was given a complement on his newest buzzcut.

Sadly, but still, he ended the chit chat to focus on discussing work material. Chris tried to stay on topic and somehow it was going well. For the next couple of minutes, he chatted about work. His hand travelled to the left side of his desk to glance at a list of things he wanted to mention, however, he got cut off by the voice emanating from the screen.

“Are those meetings being recorded, Mr. Evans?” She raised her eyebrows with interest spread across her face. Her back bent forward, causing her face to enlarge on his screen. “I mean like,” She continued and coughed. “Is anyone going to watch this later? Does anyone have access to this after we finish talking?” Her question expanded or rather multiplied, sounding out in Chris’ air pads. There was no denying he was conflicted about why she was asking this question. This was not his first online meeting and not a single individual showed any concern in this matter.

“Well, no, not really. If any of us wanted to report our meeting for any reason then I guess, um, I guess it is possible to reopen the video chat,” Slow nod was all he could do at this very moment. No doubt, he still was not able to understand the nature of her question. “If any of us found the other person’s behaviour concerning, rude or inappropriate then the IT services could recover this video chat.” He added in a robotic tone almost as if he were reading from the script.

“Would you want this meeting to get inappropriate, Sir?”

He chocked a little as his eyes widened. He wanted to slap himself across the face in response to his pathetic reaction. Shouldn’t the age gap mean something? Why was he behaving like he’s on her leash? Why was he this…nervous? Excited?

Assuredly, she should be the one who is intimidated, meanwhile it’s her making the first move. He wasn’t sure whether this simply comes from his politeness and gentles; obviously, momma Evans raised him to be a respectful man. It’s apparent, the fear of scaring you was blocking all his possible moves. Risk of being reported for improper behaviour in the workplace was also a worry of his, but it came nowhere near the terrifying theory of frightening you.

But here you were. Being indecent with him. And oh, how he loved it. How he enjoyed this single sentence leaving your pretty lips. Your remarks were more enjoyable and exciting than everything he has completed with the woman he married in the past year, if not longer.

Was he being delirious? Did your comment indicated what he thought it did? Possibility of his mind playing games on him was high. It’s so easy to assume things happened when you wish for them to happen.

“Do you want to make it inappropriate? Do you want me to be inappropriate with you, Sir?” A deep breath left his mouth and a shiver travelling down his spine followed. He was now sure; he did not misunderstand. This was not his imagination playing him, tricking him into believing there’s something here that does not exist. All of this was very real.

“Whatever you wanna be on this call — I’m happy with,” He managed to speak out loud, fixing himself on the chair. This was a bad idea, he thought once again, a horrible idea that could quite literally ruin his career. Was he going to stop? Prevent this from happening? No fucking way.

“Huh, you sure about that, Mr. Evans? I can get really filthy when I want. I am a naughty girl,” Your words hit him like a truck, and he couldn’t help the blood rush in his trousers. He licked his lips slowly and pressed his back onto the chair. He could say something, but he chose not to. Whatever you planned on doing suited him and there was not an ounce of interest in preventing you from doing so.

No further words were spoken. There was a moment of short silence that felt like forever. A moment for someone to back up, break this madness off. No one expressed a need nor a want to stop. She played with her nipples through her shirt before they journeyed up. The straps of her pale pink top slowly moved down her arm, his eyes patiently followed. To him, you were mesmerising. At this moment you had his whole attention.

Looking straight at him, her hands removed the top and carelessly dropped it on the floor. His eyes glued onto her as the soft material left her body completely. He tensed as his length twitched, reacting to her breasts and hard nipples. Her skin was complemented by the colour of a previously worn top but seeing her without it sent shivers down his spine.

Chris could feel the discomfort in his pants becoming unbearable, needing to expose himself immediately. With shame, but still, he slowly undid his zipper. For a while now the feeling downstairs was insufferable, pleading and begging to be uncovered by his hand. Chris gulped back the lump in his throat as he completely freed his member. The view on the screen made his dick ache, his length twitched, jumping again his tense stomach.

“Liking this?” She teased, firmly grabbing her breasts. His eyes darken when he took in all her naked presence. The way she touched herself, he wanted that too. He wanted to feel her nipples between his fingers. He ached to be close to her.

“I wanna see all of you,” His words escaped his mouth, hand firmly grabbing his cock. Without shame nor hesitation his member was stroked, slowly and decisively, as his back leaned on the chair comfortably.

She was quick to listen. So submissive, he though, hand still firmly hugging his man part. He observed as she stood up, taking a few steps back. Still looking at Chris, her body turned around in a circle. Her moves were slow, very captivating, making Chris feel like every single movement was in slow motion. He already adored her body.

Her hands roamed around her own body before she slipped her hand inside her shorts and panties. Subtle movements of her hands indicated she’s pleasuring herself right in front of him. By her expressions, he was able to conclude that she’s enjoying herself. She didn’t play with herself for too long. Pulling the defiant material down as her eyes travelled to his, she exposed herself completely. He felt his mouth dry at a sigh of her bare body. She gave him a sultry look, realising the power she now held over him.

“Is this how you like me, Mr. Evans?” She broke of the silence, still exposing her hot flesh. It took Chris a couple of second to even register the question, his imagination run too wild to focus now. “Do I like you naked? It’s certainly a more thought-provoking image than how I usually view you,” He teased, slightly raising the corner of his lips in a smug smile.

Licking his lips once again, he watched as she took a box from underneath her bed. It was a regular box, nothing fancy. Taking off the lid her hand searched inside for a short moment before pulling out a pink dildo. Suiting, he thought, always liking this colour on her. He admired how her skin tone was complemented by the shade.

“I love imagining it’s your cock fucking me instead of my dildo,” She said completely unprovoked, making Chris widen his eyes. They did something naughty, something filthy, yet this comment really threw him off. “I’m gonna show you how I play with myself when I think of you,” She added and waisted no time before sitting on the bed. Chris had to admit, he spotted the bed straight away when the call started. Picturing himself laying there, you next to him, he took some time imagining the wicked scene you two could create on that mattress.

“I will show you how much, how much I love picturing us together,” Her seductive voice reached Chris’ ears, his interest growing with every single second. There was this unexplainable fear within him at this very moment, fearing she is going to stop. He was helpless now, he needed her to entertain him long enough for him to reach satisfaction.

Licking his lips once again, he watched as she took a box from underneath her bed. It was a regular box, nothing fancy. Taking off the lid, her hand searched inside for a short moment before pulling out a pink dildo. Suiting, he thought, always liking this colour on her. He admired how her skin tone was complemented by the shade.

“I want you to watch,” His student said firmly, staring right at him. The sound of a dildo followed. Chris’ breath was caught in his throat straight from the anticipation of the next step she’s going to undertake. With hunger, Chris watched as she teased herself, rubbing her clit. The toy fondly slid inside of her, resulting in her lewd sounds and Chris’ silent moan.

Her nipples were hard, her unoccupied hand coming up to fondle them both whilst her bottom lip was taken hostage by her teeth. She was really enjoying herself; Chris could tell. The bed made a squeaky noise every time she moved. The call was so clear, thank God, he was able to enjoy every motion of hers. The moans, whimpers and groans escaping her pretty lips as she fucked herself with a toy. The quality of the video chat was good, but not great. He wanted to see her in full HD, he wanted to see the details. For now, though, viewing this was enough. This was damn good, so good. Those desperate hand movements, stuffing the length as deep as she could, it drove him insane. Oh, how he wanted to stretch her out like no one did before.

“Just like that, baby,” He groaned, squeezing his hard cock. He was conversating with you through moans, examining you as the vibrations caused tingles in your lower department. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew her pussy was throbbing and pulsing, desperate for more length to enter. His body parts were no different; his balls felt heavy and his dick was hard as a rock, begging for a dream release.

The heat began to grow within his body with each and every movements of hers. She kept him going, moaning his name, calling him daddy, reminding him who she’s pulling this show for. If only she had any idea what it did to him. A shaky hand wrapped around his length made rapid movements, fighting for his orgasm to arrive. Watching her, listening to her, it was magical. This craze he had within him, this fixation she caused – it was obsessive. A loud scream, her thighs closing on the pink toy and her eyes shut while she orgasmed was enough, it was everything.

The feeling of euphoria intensely swept through him as a creamy load exploded in his hand. She could not see it, but he knew she felt it. All that left his mouth was a silent “fuck” as he collected his breathe. Chris was in pieces, still processing previous events. It was now clear to him how he pleaded for that orgasm to happen, how he needed it. He was embarrassed to admit how strong, how intense, the load bursting onto his hand really was. Lucky for him, no one knew anything about it but him and himself.

„You liked this little show of mine, daddy?” Her voice awakened his senses, causing his mouth to water once again. She caught him looking at his crotch, now surely convinced what happened. She removed the toy from her body, a silent whimper followed. She threw it away on the bed like it was nothing, like it did not help them both cum just minutes ago.

“So much baby, so much. Can you show me s’more? One more time,” He breathed, looking at her with lust. She obeyed, without hesitation; her body rose from the bed and did a slow, full 360 to demonstrate her delectable features. Maybe, he was delusional, but he was sure her juices travelled down her leg. If he were right next to her, his tongue would have taken care of that.

“See you in a seminar, right, Mr. Evans?” Her sweet voice rang in his ears followed by his quick nodding. He had a chance to see her collecting the missing wardrobe that she then put on right before him. Chris could not help but notice her shaky legs. She sat down in the exact same position as before. She reached for a cup, drinking, and sipping the liquid through a straw. Now, she was back to her regular self, looking innocent once again. It slightly woke him up, brought half of him to reality.

“Yes, Miss. I will see you there. Be good, huh?” Chris said casually or at least he tried to do so. He was caught by surprise, convinced that he’s going to slur over his words more. He caught a glimpse of her eyes, forming as much of an eye contact as possible through the processor. Her current thoughts seemed impenetrable to him, although he always thought he’s amazing at reading facial cues.

“Me and you both know - I won’t.”

The last words of his current interest sounded from his Mac. Sending him a flirty wink before pressing the right button, she terminated the call. The intense orgasm left his hand still somewhat shaking. Eyes focused on the screen, he looked like he was awaiting another glimpse of her to come back.

Chris’ ecstatic state wasn’t quick to falter. It took another couple of minutes for him to do anything. Literally, anything. He was already late for the next meeting, which he felt absolutely no remorse for. His eyes lowered to look at the mess he produced; his mind displeased as he had realised, he needs to move to clean it.

Once again, it was just him and his usual surroundings. The call was over, just like that, almost as if it never happened. Despite his deepest longing, he could not go back to what just happened, he could not relive it. Your moans and whimpers performed in his head like a favourite song one would put on replay without a hesitation. He was craving more, his fingers curled into fists as he felt his cock hardening again. He was not sure what his next moves in this matter will be, but he was more than sure he needed to be inside this beautiful body.

#chris evans imagine #chris evans blurb #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagines #chris evans #professor!chris #imagine

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