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tinietaehyun · 8 months ago

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Wondrous Tales

[Wonderland!txt x lost!reader] [one-shot series]

Pairing(s): wonderland!txt! x lost!reader

Genre(s): fantasy, dark fantasy, romance, supernatural, thriller, one-shots.

Contains: (specific to each one-shot)

Links: Masterlist

Summary: Upon your stroll in the park, you stumble upon an envelope on the grass. With further inspection, it appears to be an invite of sorts. How peculiar indeed.

Wonderland? What was that? Did someone accidentally drop an invite for a birthday or costume party on their way?

Brimming with curiosity, you open up the flap to peek inside. Initially there seems to be no name, huh, it’s not addressed to anyone. Then why…

Before you could even finish your thought, you begin to see the world around you warp and twist as you soon come to realise the dire consequences of your insatiable curiosity.

Perhaps you should have left that damn invite alone because now, you were stuck in a whole other whimsical and whacky world with no idea how to get out!

Luckily (or unluckily) for you, you’ll meet some rather interesting people along your journey to leave. Though….dear reader, will you successfully escape or become ensnared by the five lovely figures of Wonderland?

1. The White Rabbit - Choi Soobin

➸ “The timekeeper of Wonderland, no matter how efficient he is, he is destined to run late. A timid soul who has always led guests to their doom, there’s not much he can do about it after all.”

Summary: With your abrupt arrival into this whimsical space, you wander around aimlessly. How odd, every turn you took, you ended up in the same spot.

Though as they say, third time’s the charm, when you encounter a blonde haired man, with a top hat and formal attire - goodness, were you going insane already?

The man gives you a gentle smile, walking towards you with his hand outstretched, “Goodness it’s been awhile since we’ve had any guests,” he observes you, “A pretty one no less.” That‘s it, you were definitely going insane.

He brings your hand to his lips with a soft gaze, “You must be so frazzled, guests always are. Well it’s my pleasure to be your guide. Now, come on, chop, chop, time’s ticking.” With a swift tug, you’re getting pulled along by this strangely tall man. What had you gotten yourself into?

Read here!

2. The King Of Hearts - Choi Yeonjun

➸ “A ruthless, flirtatious man with a dramatic flare who has quite the fondness for new guests. So much so, half don’t even make it out. He’s always looking for entertainment and wishes to be the centre of attention, so always make sure you give him what he wants.”

Summary: You peer around at this red, black and white lavish interior. A shudder vibrates through you - maybe you were better off with Soobin. You wonder what happened to him, everything happened so quickly. One moment he grasped your hand tightly and the next you saw him getting dragged away!

The guards shove you through a set of grand heart engraved doors and you stumble to your knees. Peering up, you see the man himself, one leg atop the other, a bored expression on his face, his eyes glimmering in intrigue.

“Ah, my darling guest, have you already fallen for me? Surely, you must have plans to keep me more entertained than that.” He smirks almost too sweetly with a flick of his wrist, “After all, you’ll find out very quickly, what happens to those I get bored with.”

Read here!

3. The March Hare- Huening Kai

➸ “Tea, tea, tea. It’s always tea time for him. Time for tea? Or is it tea’s time to be had? Don’t ever refuse his offer for tea, or you’ll find yourself perpetually mad.”

Summary: Gasping and panting raggedly for breath, you seemed to have done good by sliding down the fluorescent tunnel as a last resort! The King’s guards almost caught you!

What a maniac he was! How could someone be so obsessive? Your heart rate slows as you peer around, huh, this area seemed secluded. You deem it should be safe to take some rest here. Right? Goodness, you couldn’t trust this place at all! Little by little you feel your sanity tearing away.

“Oh? Who’s wandered into my little grove? Another guest for my tea party?” Your head snaps up seeing a tall man, with a coy grin as he clicks his tongue, walking towards you, “Oh you must be the pretty little guest I’ve heard so much about…oh then, join me, won’t you? For my little tea party?”

You had a feeling you couldn’t refuse even if you wanted to.

Read Here!

4. The Mad Hatter - Choi Beomgyu

➸ “His pretty face hides the most decrepit madness. A man who killed time, quite literally. Is being mad so bad? Is being bad so mad? Why be suppressed with all those boring rules and go insane with the Hatter instead?”

Summary: Having managed to elude the tea party and trick Kai into thinking you’ll stay, you scramble for your life by bargaining with a strange caterpillar hanging from the trees to escape.

Being barely lucid, you stumble into what seems to be another secluded grove, another tea party. Oh, you were definitely mad by this point. Not again! You see exuberant host with his feet up on the table with a grin, “Welcome, welcome, do come and join me, little love. I have lots of tea or are you sick of it from the March Hare?”

Panicked you rush off past him, he makes no move to chase after you. How strange. “Toodles, love!” Grimacing you rush off through the tangled foliage….only to arrive back to where you were facing the man again. A loop…?

“Time’s prisoner I am, and so you will be too. I’m awfully lonely and the hare’s fed up of my games. You’ll play with me and keep this Hatter company won’t you?”

Read here!

5. The Cheshire Cat - Kang Taehyun

➸ “A man with hypnotic eyes and a killer smile, almost uncanny in its slyness. A man who likes to toy with his prey and use his wit to outsmart any and who dare to trespass his woods. He isn’t mad like the others, no, under his grin, hides someone smarter than everyone in Wonderland.”

Summary: You break the loop and take the Hatter off guard by your boldness, managing to somehow bypass his riddles and games. With all your remaining strength, you run deliriously, where? You don’t know.

All you know is the thousands of signs reading and pointing to an “exit” were taunting you. You couldn’t believe them. Not anymore, you couldn’t believe anyone, or anything in this world. You were not stupid enough to follow those damn signs and so, you go the opposite path. Into the Dark Woods.

Finding yourself even more lost and the last of your sanity crumbling away, the pollen in the air making you feel hazy, you’re startled to hear a voice, “Well, well, well, what a pretty thing has stepped into my woods today. Has no one told you I don’t like trespassers, hm?” Your eyes snap up to a man lounging in the branches above with a wide grin, “Don’t look so scared, I don’t bite too hard.”

Read Here

Taglist: [CLOSED]

@naoristerling @staaaarykids @tremendousphantommiracle @lun4kazumii @lunathewritingcat @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @taehyhunnzly @20crowsinahoodie @baekberrie @syraphyina @fullbodyblankets @soohashits @f4iryfever @themochiverse @atiny-chocolate-chip @nothingwithoutgyu @ethystclove @hancafe @nap-of-a-starr @isa942572 @evn-09 @ninitorih @m3chigo @tenleeluvr-blog @matcha-binz @soobunnymoa @sleepyygyu @nicngyu @vicurious28 @kurokkkiko0 @zyoopioo @noraimp @bvqler @lailols @iiisusy @astridxxxx @kookiesbunny @scrumptiousloser

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hellodarling1357 · 1 year ago

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Drunk Words, Sober Thoughts? (Cassian x Reader) - Part 3

Hello hello!!! Part 3 is finalllyyyyy here, I’m so sorry for the wait. It’s a bit of a filler chapter but the next part should (hopefully) be up soon.

Here’s a link to part 1 and part 2 ✨

Enjoy and let me know what you think 🥰

Word Count: 2.3k

Your feet stumbled as you came to an abrupt halt, unable to tear your eyes away from the pair walking along the other side of the river.

The male you had let yourself believe you had a chance with, and the female, Evalina, who was clearly his perfect match.

Cassian and Evalina had been together almost two decades ago before their relationship was ripped to shreds by such a monumental fight that no one had dared asked Cassian what had caused it.

Although you had been concerned for Cassian during the fallout, you couldn’t help the guilt-ridden joy that coursed through you at the thought of Evalina no longer being around.

It seems, however, you were wrong.

Embarrassment washed over you as you realised this is what Cassian would’ve wanted to talk to you about this morning; he was drunk and didn’t know what he was saying and, oh, by the way, Evalina is back in the picture.

“Y/N?”

Mor pulled you from your thoughts, her eyes tracking over to see what had you stopping, causing her to let out a sigh as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder and forced you to keep moving.

“Come on. Let’s skip dinner and get you nice and drunk.”

You wouldn’t argue with that.

*****

“Hello ladies, welcome, welcome,” A handsome fae male greeted as you stepped inside the cozy wine bar. “How can I help you today? Table for two?”

You let Mor answer and guide you to your seat, too caught up in self pity to say anything to the male.

“Now,” He said with a clap of his hands and a dazzling smile. “My name is Bryn, owner of this establishment and your server for today. We are fairly new here and are missing a few shipments so our drinks list is somewhat limited, but I’ll do my best. What were you both after?”

Mor shot you a glance but you were preoccupied with looking out the window, torturing yourself by trying to catch a glance of where Cassian and Evalina might have gone.

“Just a bottle of wine please,” Another glance in your direction had Mor adding, “And two shots of vodka”

With a chuckle, Bryn took your menus and promised to be right back with your drinks.

“So,” You glanced back at Mor as she spoke, knowing your face was the picture of misery but unable to bring yourself to care. “Are you finally going to admit to me that you’re head over heels in love with Cassian, or do I have to keep pretending not to notice?”

You let out a groan and placed your head on the table.

A soft “ahem” caused you to jump up, cheeks flushing, as you realised Bryn had just arrived with two shot glasses.

You gave him a sheepish look and muttered a quick “thanks”, kicking Mor under the table as she laughed at you and your clearly broken heart.

Downing the shot, you glared back at Mor before reaching across the table and downing her shot as well.

“Hey!” Mor grumbled as you slammed the glass down.

Before you could respond, Bryn appeared again, bottle of clear liquid in hand.

“Looks like you might need this,” he said as he filled up both glasses again. “It’s on the house.”

Mor quickly grabbed her glass back before you could finish both of them off again.

With a sigh you pushed your now-empty shot glass towards the middle of the table.

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Yes.”

“Does Cassian know?” If he knew it would make the whole mess of a situation so much worse.

“I don’t know, Y/N. But I’m not sure if—“

You were hardly listening to what she was saying as you replayed the past 24 hours and the emotional roller coaster you had endured.

“I feel so stupid,” Mor stared back at you in silence, giving you a small smile that encouraged you to continue. “Last night, once we got back, we were just arguing back and forth, just about dumb things, and then he said…he was drunk, really drunk, but he said he loved me.”

Two wine glasses were placed in front of you and you graciously took a sip, unable to bring yourself to meet Mor’s eye.

“He said he loved me, and…I don’t know, I passed it off as him being drunk and just being him. But then, before he went to bed, he said it again, and the way he looked at me…,” You let out a heavy sigh before taking another sip of wine. “I just feel so stupid for letting myself think, hope, that it was real and that he actually meant it. But then this morning he wanted to talk, and now that Evalina is back in the picture…” You trailed off, still trying to piece your thoughts together.

Mor was silent for a moment as she turned over all you had said. It didn’t make any sense. She had seen you and Cassian together, the way you looked at one another, the joking and back-and-forth banter, the way both of your feelings were obvious to everyone except yourselves. But maybe she had been wrong…

“It might not be what you think it is,” Mor finally said. “Maybe just give yourself a couple of days, get some distance from him so you can sort out your own thoughts. Then we’ll work it out.”

Giving her a small smile, you nodded in response before changing the topic.

“Enough about me,” A sly smile spread across your face. “Will your friend from last night be joining us at Starfall this year?”

*****

You didn’t need to try too hard at avoiding Cassian over the next few days. Despite the upcoming celebrations, your workload remained never ending, allowing you only fleeting greetings as you crossed paths with one another.

As luck would have it, the week before Starfall, Rhys sent Cassian to Illyria to look into some rumoured wing clippings that had started springing up across some of the smaller camps. Although you missed him and worried about your friend whilst he was away, you found a sense of relief filling you as you were no longer having to hide away to avoid him.

You knew you would have to talk it out eventually, but for now you let yourself ignore the emotional turmoil and instead focused on the upcoming Starfall celebrations.

*****

You were just adding the finishing touches to your makeup when there was a knock on your door, followed by Mor letting herself in, not waiting for you to answer.

“Hello to you too.” You smiled at your friend in the mirror as you swiped some blush over your other cheek.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” She greeted as she passed you a generously filled glass of wine before setting herself down in one of the armchairs.

“Says you, you look absolutely stunning.” Mor just brushed off your compliment with a wave of her hand.

“Well go on, let’s see the dress. Everyone will be arriving soon.”

Taking a sip of wine, you walked over to your changing room, haphazardly throwing your silk robe onto the floor as you donned your Starfall dress.

Despite yourself, and the whirlwind the past two weeks had been, you couldn’t help but look forward to tonight. The distance from Cassian had helped you sort through your racing thoughts and allowed you to compose yourself enough to act as though nothing had changed.

Cassian had been delayed at one of the war camps and, according to Mor, had only returned to Velaris a few hours ago. Having been locked away with Rhys upon his return to go over his reports, and then with you spending the better part of the day bathing and getting yourself ready, you were yet to actually see him.

With a sigh you brushed out the skirt of your dress before grabbing your shoes and heading back out to the main part of your bedroom where Mor was waiting.

“I told you it was the perfect dress.” Mor squealed excitedly at the sight of you.

Grinning back at her, you quickly slid into your shoes before doing a final check over. You could feel your nerves start to flutter at the thought of seeing Cassian again, most likely with Evalina by his side if the other night was anything to go off.

With a final deep breath, you picked up your wine glass and turned to Mor.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

*****

The echo of music and excited chatter flowed down the hallway as the two of you headed towards the crowd. A quick glance around the room told you Cassian was yet to join and you felt your tension somewhat ebbing away as you and Mor headed over to where Rhys, Azriel, and Amren stood.

You lost yourself in the music and just being able to enjoy the night with your friends, your worries from earlier were long gone, the multiple drinks you had consumed definitely playing a helpful factor.

Noticing everyone’s glasses were getting low, you excused yourself and headed towards the bar to get the next round.

Patiently waiting for a tray of five glasses, you leant against the wall and watched the party before you in a contented silence. You would be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit you were also keeping an eye out for a certain red-siphoned Illyrian who you had yet to spot.

“Well you’re definitely looking better compared to the last time I saw you.”

You startled at the fae male who suddenly appeared by your side.

“Hi…” You trailed off, giving him an apologetic smile. He definitely looked familiar but you couldn’t place where you had met.

“Bryn.” He laughed. “You and your friend visited my bar the other week. Though I don’t blame you for not remembering me, seemed like you had quite a bit on your mind.” He finished with a wink at your clearly embarrassed expression as you thought back to your sorry state that night.

“Bryn, of course. How are you? How’s business?”

Shooting you another grin, he excitedly said, “Oh, it’s really great. Been pretty busy so that’s keeping me busy, but I do love it. We have a similar establishment in the Dawn Court but my partner is originally from here so we decided it was time to move back. Actually…would you excuse me? I believe one of the guests over there dabbles in the selling of fine wines…”

You blinked in response to his faced paced chatter and his sudden retreating figure, shaking your head a bit with a chuckle at what felt like the conversation equivalent of whiplash.

“Miss…” A voice called out, “Your drinks.”

Turning back to the bar, you hurried over for the tray, offering a gracious smile before heading into the throng of people to where your friends stood.

“Well you took your time, did someone catch your eye?” You rolled your eyes at Mor’s teasing as the others chuckled and thanked you for the drinks.

“Actually,” you started, giving Mor a dismissive look when she excitedly perked up. “Bryn, the owner of that new bar we went to the other week, is here, he was just telling me how it was all going. Here, someone hold this, I’m just going to take the tray back.”

You handed your glass off to Azriel before weaving your way back towards the bar. You waved at Bryn as you passed, who was now animatedly talking to who you assumed was the wine seller.

Movement behind you and the sudden call of your name had you looking around, your heart dropping as you were suddenly stood in front of Cassian and Evalina.

You gaped for a moment before quickly collecting yourself and plastering on a smile.

“Hi,” You greeted, hoping your voice didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. “You’re back.”

Cassian gave you a soft smile, opening his mouth to say something but Evalina cut in.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you. Cauldron, it’s been too long, hasn’t it?” You stiffened as she locked her arm around Cassian’s, a smirk gracing her features. “Can you believe that I’ve finally found my mate?”

And there it was.

You felt the blood rush to your head, the surrounding sounds of the party becoming a distant murmur as your body tensed and eyes went wide.

Her mate. Cassian was her mate, and she was his, and…

“Y/N? Are you alright?” Cassian’s concerned voice had everything rushing back into focus.

You blinked up at him, cursing yourself for the burning sensation as tears welled in your eyes.

You didn’t know what to say, you should be happy for him, for them. But you couldn’t muster the energy to pretend anymore, not as you felt your heart break into a million little pieces.

Ignoring Cassian’s question and the bewilderment on Evalina’s face, you turned on the spot and walked away.

*****

Sorry… 👀

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian imagine #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar #rhys acotar #rhysand acotar #azriel acotar #morrigan acotar #amren acotar #marley writes

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startseeingstars · 4 months ago

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Collision Path - Mike 5lbs of Pressure

CH11 Maddi’s POV 🎶 Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood 🎶

TW - sexual themes, drugs, mentions of abuse

I flung a G-string at Mike as he loaded his washing into the machine and watched it hit him in the side of his face. I chuckled as he rolled his eyes.

“Nice shot.” He leant down and picked up the panties.

“Do I get to keep this pair?” He winked and I stifled another laugh.

“Sure. They aren’t mine though.” I admitted and he scrunched his face up, immediately dropping the underwear to the floor.

“Seriously?” He asked and I nodded, pressing start on my machine.

“If you want to see mine again, you'll have to come back to the club.” I teased playfully. He ran his hands through his hair, inadvertently flexing his biceps. I let my gaze linger for a moment too long and he noticed.

“I can think of another way.” His voice was husky through his smirk as he winked at me.

I blushed, looking away briefly as my phone vibrated wildly in my pocket.

My phone was flooded with text messages from an unsaved number. I opened them and read them from the beginning, feeling my heart sink as I realised it was my ex.

He’d found my new number, clearly. As I read the threatening messages, my hands began to shake slightly. The memories of all the horrible things he put me through came flooding back.

Suddenly, Mike was beside me and he looked over the messages briefly before he took the phone from my hands. I didn’t protest as he shoved it in his pocket, ignoring it as it continued to buzz. He just held me close, embracing me in his scent of smoke and cologne.

After a few minutes, the buzzing stopped and I sniffled, pulling away from him as I quickly wiped the few stray tears that had escaped.

“Let me handle it.” He whispered and I nodded - having no desire to relive the traumatic events I’d been through any more.

He took the phone and sent a photo of himself flipping the bird and sent it off with a message - something to the effect of ‘wrong number asshole’ before he blocked it.

I sighed, mentally drained. Mike’s hand reached out for mine and he gave it a soft squeeze.

“Want to get high?”

I laughed a little at his abrupt proposal but nodded.

We sat on my couch, passing each other the joint. Buffy had curled up on Mike’s lap immediately after he’d sat down. She generally hated people, so I took her affection as a sign that I could trust him.

We were quiet for a little while, but eventually, I’d given him the run down of what happened with my ex - why I’d moved here in the first place. He sat quietly, listening intently as I recounted my past.

Once I’d finished, he gave my knee a squeeze.

“I’m sorry you went through all that. You deserve a lot better.” His voice was soft and I smiled.

“Yeah, I do.” I inched myself closer to him and rested my head on the back of the couch as I looked at him thoughtfully. He smiled - eyes a little glazed over.

“Wanna play some music?” He asked and I nodded.

“I'll grab my guitar.” He leant forward and pressed his lips to my forehead before he left.

I blushed, laying back briefly and enjoying the fuzzy brain feeling.

He returned shortly with his guitar and sat down, fiddling with the tuning pegs as I sat up.

“You know this one?” He asked, fingers beginning to pluck at the strings delicately and I nodded, grinning.

“One of my favourites.” He beamed at my answer and began playing a familiar song.

I sang along, not nearly as nervous as I had been the other night - maybe it was the weed. He hummed a little as he played and I found it endearing. Giggles interrupted the song a couple of times from him playing a chord wrong, or me forgetting the words from being fried.

The way his fingers worked over the strings had my brain fighting a battle of dirty thoughts vs lyrics.

As the song ended, he smiled and something inside me melted as I stared at him for a while.

“You’re high as shit.” He smirked and I kicked him playfully.

“Am not.” He placed the guitar aside and sat facing me.

“C’mere then.” He pulled me toward him and I willingly sat on his lap, straddling him. He squinted slightly and stared into my eyes. “Are fuckin’ too.” He muttered, making me giggle.

Suddenly, I felt his hands grip my waist lightly and his eyes darkened as he swallowed. I felt a shift in the energy between us - a flame that craved more heat.

I held his neck softly and leaned in.

His lips were softer than I’d expected, pillowy against my own. I felt sparks across my skin as our lips moved in sync and we breathed each other in, finally giving in to the desire we’d been tormenting for days.

Shamelessly, I rocked my hips against him slowly, unable to think of anything other than being as close to him as possible.

His fingers dug into the flesh of my waist encouragingly as my hands travelled to his hair, deepening our kiss.

He let a moan escape into my mouth and I almost whimpered at the sound, feeling a familiar wetness begin to pool between my thighs. His track pants were accommodating, allowing me to feel the extent of his excitement against my own.

He pulled away from my mouth slightly as his phone rang, breathing heavily as I still tasted his lips - a strangely intoxicating mix of weed, smoke and mint.

He declined the call without hesitation and tossed the phone aside as he kissed me again hungrily.

His hands ran up my shirt along my back, pulling me closer to him as I felt his hips bucking slightly - desperate to create more friction.

His phone rang again but we ignored the buzzing, unable to keep our hands off one another. His tongue licked my bottom lip lightly before he bit it, earning a small moan from me as I tugged at his shirt, begging for it to be off his body. He broke away just long enough to rip it off before his hands made their way up the front of my shirt.

I gasped as his calloused fingers groped my breast and pinched my nipples. His full lips moved from mine to my jaw, trailing down my neck to my collarbone where he began to lick gently and sink his teeth into my skin.

Loud knocking on the door startled us apart and he groaned. Catching my breath, realised it was Leff.

“Fuck off.” Mike called out to him, clearly agitated but Leff continued to bang on my door.

I slid off Mike and stormed over, furiously opening it.

“Do you fuckin’ mind?” I snapped. He glared at me coldly, ignoring my question.

“Don’t ignore my fucking calls.” He practically snarled past me at Mike. “Get your ass downstairs. There’s work.” He didn’t even glance at me or wait for a reply before he left, heading down the stairs.

I slammed the door shut and groaned in frustration. Mike was angry, but he threw his shirt back on and grabbed his phone.

His eyes avoided mine as I stared at him, a little rocked from the interruption.

Holding a hand to my waist, he leaned in and pressed his lips to my temple, lingering for a moment.

“Sorry, doll.”

#rory culkin #charlie walker #clyde electrick children #euronymous #kappa #fanfic #culkin brothers #culkin cult #lords of chaos #mike 5lbs of pressure #5lbs of pressure

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starks-hero · 4 years ago

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Right a Wrong

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You, Sam and Bucky get to work repairing Sam’s family boat. Turns out the boat isn’t the only thing in need of fixing. But with help from you and Sam, Bucky figures some stuff out.

Word Count: 3,745

Warnings: a bit of a make-out session but not enough to be classed as smut, tfatws spoilers! 1x05

a/n: This is a direct result of watching episode 5 too many times. Spoilers below!

|| Part Two ||

Small waves lapped gently against the dock and the afternoon sun warmed your back as you worked on the old boat.

You were standing side by side with Bucky, crowbar in hand as you attempted to pry off the old metal cleats from the boats side, whilst he expertly pulled rusted pipes apart and threw them into a pile. As if on queue, one of the pipes on the opposite side of the ship burst, hissing and spurting out white clouds of steam. You marvelled at how quickly Bucky reacted, quickly crossing the deck and sealing the leak with an abrupt upward turn of the pipe with his metal arm.

"Where did you learn so much about fixing boats?" You teased, motioning to the now fixed pipe with your crowbar. Bucky dusted off his hands.

"I used to work on the docks in Brooklyn before the war." He shrugged, rolling up his sleeves to the elbow and taking a seat on a crate next to you. "I picked up a few things."

He furthered his point by leaning over and pulling at the cleat you'd been grappling with. It came away from where it was attached to the boat's side with ease in Buckys iron grip. He smirked as he tossed the scrap aside and you rolled your eyes.

"Show off."

Bucky chuckled, sitting back as Sam stepped onto the boat. He was carrying a crate in one hand and shook his head when he noticed Bucky's smirk and your dismissive smile.

"Alright, you two." He placed the crate down and pulled out two green bottles, throwing one to Bucky and handing you the other. "Beer break."

Sam took a seat across from you both and you sighed as you opened your beer, raising it up to Bucky.

His annoyance was discredited by the fond smile that broke through his expression as he begrudgingly clinked his bottle with yours. You reached over and did the same with Sam as the three of you relaxed under the heat of the Louisiana sun.

"It's starting to look good," you noted as you glanced around the boat and Sam smiled.

"Yeah, it's coming together." He took a swig of his beer. "You know, Sarah and I were talking." He started and both you and Bucky glanced up at him. "And we could use the help. Don't suppose you two would consider staying around a while? Just till we get a lead on Karli."

The offer caused a noticeable smile to pull at your lips whilst Bucky shifted beside you at Sam's words. His agitation grew and he stood.

"I've got my plane to catch tomorrow, a hotel room for the night," he said, raising his bottle to his lips to hide his doubt. He really didn't have that much of a plan beyond that.

"You're just gonna set me up like that, huh?" Sam asked and Bucky shrugged.

"Well, I don't want to make it weird for your family."

"Just stay here," Sam said and you couldn't help but nod subconsciously. The truth was you really didn't really want to leave. There was something about staying with the Wilson's and spending the day fixing up an old run-down family boat that made everything seem so normal. It gave you a sense of home, a sense of normality that you hadn't had in a long time. For a while, it even made you forget about the flag smashers, Walker, all of it. It was a much-needed break.

"The people in this town are the most welcoming in the world. They don't care if you wear small t-shirts or if you've got six toes or if your mom is your aunt-"

You laughed and Bucky barely hid a chuckle behind a huff of breath and a bright smile.

"Okay, I get it. The people are nice."

You placed your bottle aside and turned to Sam.

"You're sure Sarah doesn't mind?" you asked and Sam's smile only widened.

"She's the one that offered."

Grinning, you sat back and nodded. "Then I don't see why not."

"See?" Sam pointed to you and then Bucky. "Just stay, man."

Bucky shuffled his feet for a moment before finally answering with a begrudging, "Okay. Alright." He didn't say anything else as he turned and walked down the boat.

"He'll come around. He probably just wants his space." You said, picking up your beer. Sam nodded, taking a swig of his own drink.

"I hope you're right."

You woke up feeling more refreshed than you had in a while. Your hands and back hurt slightly from the tiring work on the boat, but it was a dull ache compared to the constant throbbing that came after a mission. Your cheeks were warm, surely as a result of the hours spent out in the sun the day before.

Both you and Bucky stayed the night. Sarah had offered you the spare room and after a solid fifteen minutes of bickering, you finally conceded to Bucky and agreed to sleep in the guest bed. He took the couch.

The sun was just beginning to rise up over the water when you and Bucky both headed back out to the boat. Sam joined you not long after. You worked until mid-afternoon, reluctantly taking short breaks. You fell into a quick rhythm as you worked around the boat. Surprisingly, the three of you seemed to make a pretty decent team off of the battlefield.

"Hey, can you pass me a 12-300?" Sam asked from under the boat's control panel. Bucky reached into the toolbox and placed the wrench in Sam's outstretched hand. A few seconds later Sam was rolling out from under the controls and glaring disapprovingly at Bucky.

"What?"

"I asked for a 12-300," Sam stated plainly. "This is a 10-250."

"No, it's not." Bucky bit back.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not!"

"Hey, geniuses." You cut their bickering short as both men turned to look at you. You held up the grease-slick wrench that had been misplaced and tossed it to Sam. "You left it below deck when you were working on the engine."

Sam muttered a quiet 'thanks' as he got back to work. Silence settled over the three of you for a few minutes until Sam decided it was getting awkward.

"So, are you still planning on leaving tonight?" He asked from under the station and Bucky nodded, before realising Sam couldn't see him.

"Yeah," he said loud enough for Sam to hear. "I'll be out of your way soon."

You could hear Sam's sigh from beneath you as he clambered back to his feet and stood between you and the super-soldier leaning against the wall of the cabin.

"Well, there's no hurry."

Sam didn't say anything else as he cleaned the oil and grease from his hands with a cloth and stepped off the boat. Bucky sighed and let his head fall back behind him.

"Go," you ordered plainly and he looked up at you.

"What?"

"Go," you said again, nodding your head towards where Sam was walking away. "You both need to talk. Bucky, whatever you're not saying, it's getting to you. So go talk to him."

Bucky hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He glared at nothing in particular but his gaze softened when it found you and he muttered a quiet, 'fine.' You stepped aside as he made his way past you and stepped up onto the dock, heading after Sam.

"And don't be a smart ass!" You called after him. He didn't reply, but you could only hope that Sam and Bucky's conversation would be somewhat constructive.

"Nice shot!" You retrieved the football from the back of the goal as Cass, Sam's eldest nephew, celebrated his score.

Once Sam and Bucky had left the boat, you had headed back to the house, helping Sarah with any errands or chores, doing anything you could to help out. Sam and Bucky had been gone a little over an hour and you didn't know if that meant their talk was going very well or very not. You'd been sitting rather uselessly on the couch, waiting in anticipation, when Sam's nephews had invited you to play a game of football. And how could you refuse?

You tossed the ball back to the boys who eagerly pounced at it. You were stood in the small goal, allowing both boys to take as many shots as they wanted. AJ stepped forward and kicked the ball, groaning when it flew off to the left, a few meters away from where you were standing and missed the net entirely. He glanced down at the ground, disheartened.

“Hey, it's alright, AJ.” You smiled as you ran to grab the ball and passed it back to him. “Come on, try again.”

With encouragement from his brother, he took the shot and this time the ball planted itself in the top corner of the goal. Both boys cheered as they celebrated and you smiled. You dusted yourself off, your knees and hands covered in dust from the football game as you turned to head back inside the house. Both boys protested as you left but you promised them you'd be back. The more time you spent with AJ, Cass, Sam and Sarah, the more you didn't want to leave. There was something about staying with the Wilson's that made you feel content. It was homely and offered a sense of normality that the last few weeks had caused you to miss.

You entered the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water. Sarah had told you over and over again to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. You leaned against the counter, glass in hand and just basked in the feeling of not having to worry about donning a suit and risking your life at a moments notice. It was something you could get used to.

“That was adorable.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of a voice and you found Bucky joining you in the kitchen. He was smirking fondly.

“You and the boys.”

You chuckled softly and shrugged. “They're sweet kids.”

Bucky nodded, pulling a glass of his own from the shelf and filling it with water from the tap. It furthered the sense of domesticity that you were really starting to love. He took a seat at the table across from you.

“So,” you started as you placed your own glass aside. “How did it go? You and Sam.”

Bucky chuckled and you couldn't tell if it was sarcastic or genuine, but something about the grin that lingered on his lips had you banking on the latter.

‘‘Not bad,” he admitted eventually with a shrug. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “We talked. He said if I'm going to fix anything, if I'm going to get what's left of him out of my mind.” Bucky subconsciously ran his hand across his temple. “I'm going to have to put in the work. Help the people I wronged instead of just saying sorry.”

You nodded, silently making a note to thank Sam later on. He always had a way with words, he could always get through to people. That's why he was given the shield.

“He's got a point.”

Bucky scoffed and hung his head at your words. “I should have known you'd be on his side.” There was no hostility in his words. He just sounded amused, and maybe a little tired.

“I don't think this comes down to whose side I'm on, Bucky. We both want what's best for you.” You answered honestly and Bucky glimpsed up at you. He anxiously toyed with his hands as you spoke, looking vulnerable, and slightly lost despite how hard he tried to hide it. You knew Sam had already spoken to him, but it couldn't hurt for you to say something as well.

“Look Bucky, telling yourself that you're okay and that everything that happened doesn't matter anymore because you've made 'amends' isn't going to help.”

He sighed, shuffling his feet against the tiles of the kitchen floor. “I know,” he admitted quietly.

“And I know you're probably tired of hearing this but, you're not him anymore, Bucky. You're not the winter soldier. Everything you did whilst you were him wasn't your choice. Just because you remember it doesn't mean that it was your fault. It's not your responsibility to fix it.”

Bucky sighed but didn't interrupt. He was listening. This wasn't like the therapist that he was forced to sit in front of and lie to every other week. This was someone he trusted, someone whose words he valued. Someone he honestly believed could help. He sighed but nodded to show that he was still listening.

“I think Sam’s right,” you said. “It might not be your responsibility to fix everything that went wrong but trying could help. It could give you that closure that you keep chasing after. You need to let go, Bucky. You need to forgive yourself. Maybe you just need the people who are hurting to forgive you first. Then you can learn how to do the same.”

Bucky's expression was unreadable. So many emotions flashed across his eyes you found it difficult to pinpoint just one.

“How do I start?” he asked quietly. It just seemed impossible. There were so many people he'd hurt, so many people he'd wronged. He'd left children as orphans, wives as widows and parents childless. How could he possibly start trying to fix or make all those people feel in any way better?

You smiled softly at his question. “Small. One at a time,” you said simply. “Then just keep putting one in front of the other.”

Bucky considered your words, glancing down at his hands as he thought. Before long, a small smirk pulled at his lips.

“I can't decide who'd make a better therapist. You or Sam,” he joked and you laughed, shaking your head dismissively.

“Well, Sam did council veterans so I think he takes that title.”

“I'd say it's pretty tied,” Bucky said, walking across the kitchen and standing next to you as he washed his glass, drying it off and placing it back on the shelf. The room fell into a comfortable silence.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said after a moment, his tone sincere and his expression genuine as he looked at you. You nodded, gently placing your hand against his shoulder.

“Don't mention it. You know I'm always here if you need to talk.”

The sound of a football colliding with the wall dangerously close to the window followed by two voice's loudly shouting, 'sorry!' in unison drew a quaint laugh from you both.

“Duty calls.” You grinned, patting Bucky on the back as you passed him. “Team Wilson is missing its goalkeeper.”

Bucky chuckled, watching you go. You crossed the kitchen but his voice stopped you just as your hand reached the doors handle.

“Y/N?”

You turned back around to face him and couldn't help but notice that he seemed a little more apprehensive than he had before.

“Yeah?”

He exhaled slowly, willing himself to tell you what was on his mind.

“I was just thinking things over and you know, I’m leaving today,” he hesitated slightly before glancing up at you. “And I guess I was wondering if you’d come with me?”

Your hand slipped from where it was still holding the brass handle of the door. You tilted your head as your mind fully processed his question. The shock must have been evident in your expression as Bucky rushed to continue.

“I know you're planning on staying here and I get why.” He pulled a tattered red book from his pocket which you immediately recognized as Steve’s. He began absentmindedly turning the pages, running his fingers over the paper. “I want to try and start fixing things, making things right. But truth is I have no idea where to start. I thought that maybe you could help me with that?”

“I thought you wanted your space," you admitted after a moment.

“No.” He shook his head. “That's the last thing I want.”

You thought it over, resting your back against the door. Bucky trusted you, evidently a lot more than you thought he did. Not only was he comfortable enough telling you how he felt and admitting he didn't know what to do next. But he also wanted you with him. It was clear he was holding back, not wanting to overwhelm you by admitting just how badly he wanted you to go with him. But the way he eagerly watched you as he waited patiently for your answer was a dead give away.

You wanted to help Bucky, you wanted to be there for him. If that meant helping him right his wrongs and staying with him during that trying time, at least until Sam got a lead on Karli and the Flag Smashers, then you were more than happy to comply.

“You're sure about this?” you asked and Bucky pushed off the counter and crossed the room, stopping just in front of you.

“Absolutely.” His voice dropped down to a hushed whisper. “Come with me.” His hand gently caught your wrist, his fingers running up your arm. His face was inches from yours now, your breaths mingling. “Please?”

His lips pressed to yours before you could answer and you immediately kissed back. Your hand fell against his shoulder, the other laying gently against the nape of his neck. He groaned quietly against you, his arms finding your waist as he gently guided you backwards till your back met the wall. He pressed into you, his hands roaming up your body and you moaned as he deepened the kiss.

“Yes.” You answered when he pulled away slightly and he smiled against you, relieved. Neither of you said anything else as Bucky sighed and pulled you closer, his thigh slipping between your legs as he pinned you to the wall.

God, he'd wanted to do this for so long. Wanted to kiss you, to feel you against him. He wanted you. Your hand slipped into his hair and you pulled him closer, smirking against him. You'd wanted this just as bad. And you both only had your own stubbornness to blame for taking so damn long. It didn't matter now though. Not as he gently bit down on your lower lip and you slipped your hand under his shirt and felt up his chest. It all felt so natural, so right.

“Ten minutes.”

Both your eyes flew open at the all too familiar voice, Bucky pulling away from you so quickly he only barely avoided falling over a nearby chair.

“I left you two alone to talk for ten minutes,” Sam repeated from where he was standing on the other side of the room, his arms crossed. You tried to subtly smoothen out your clothes whilst Bucky ran his hand through his tangled hair.

“We were,” Bucky said, clearing his throat. “We were talking. We...talked.”

Sam nodded, entirely unconvinced, and smirked. He reclined against the counter, showing no sign of leaving anytime soon. A painfully awkward silence settled over the kitchen as Sam continued to shift his knowing stare from you to Bucky.

The humiliation of the entire situation seemed to get to Bucky first as he clasped his hands together after less than a minute.

“You know, what? I'm leaving in a few hours and I've got to pack so I better just go-” Bucky rambled as he shot you a subtle apologetic look before turning to Sam, who was nodding along in faux agreement to his pathetic attempt of an excuse.

Bucky quickly crossed the kitchen, Sam harshly patting him on the back as he passed him and left the room. Leaving just you and Sam alone. You turned to your friend and found that he was still grinning at you with that same mischievous look in his eyes. You felt like a deer in headlights. In an attempt to act as though Sam hadn't just walked in on you and Bucky making out, you tried making normal conversation.

“Sam, there was actually something I wanted to tell you. I know I said I was going to stay for a while but I guess there's been a change of plan. I-”

“I know.” He cut you off and his smile only widened when you looked at him in utter confusion. “You honestly think he would have asked you to go with him if I didn't tell him to get his shit together first?”

Your confusion slowly melted away and was replaced with a look of disbelief. You laughed despite yourself. You should have known Sam had something to do with it. ‘‘How long have you been playing cupid?” you asked jokingly and Sam chuckled.

“He needs you, Y/N. More than he wants to admit,” Sam said, tone now more serious than before. “Things will be fine here, I'll call you as soon as Torres finds us something to work with. But right now, he needs your help before that hole he's stuck in gets too deep for him to climb out of.”

You sighed as the weight of Sam's words set in. He was right, Bucky really did need you. That wasn't a responsibility you could afford to take lightly. Not that you planned to.

“Thanks, Sam,” you said genuinely and Sam smirked as he crossed the room and pulled you into a hug. He could tell you needed it.

“Anytime.” He pulled away and offered you a warning glare. “But I swear, if you two making out the minute I turn my back becomes a regular thing I'm going to kick both your asses.”

“Got it,” you nodded, barely stifling a laugh.

Sam's scowl melted into a smile and he motioned towards the stairs. “Go on, get your things together. You've got a plane to catch in a few hours.”

You smiled and headed upstairs after Bucky. Sam leaned against the counter with his arms crossed and a satisfied smile. Getting you two together had taken more work than he'd thought. But he knew it would be worth it, you both needed each other. Whether you were willing to admit it or not. And Sam was confident that if there was anyone that could help Bucky and offer him that sense of home and peace that he was so desperately craving, it was you.

tag list: @bakerstreethound @miraclesoflove @doozywoozy @kealohilani-tepise

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes #tfatws spoilers #tfaws #tfatws x reader #platonic!sam x reader #sebastian stan x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fic #marvel x reader #1k

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hikari3601 · 4 years ago

Text

In Your Head

Home page

Pairing | Tartaglia x Reader

Author’s Note | A/N

Warnings | Nightmares, reader has a panic attack and implied abandonment.

“You should’ve honoured your word Y/N.”

“You said you’d always have my back!” You cried out, but the man before you wasn’t the one who would cuddle to sleep with you or hold you when your past came back to haunt you; before you stood a killing machine -one that only ticked for battle and victory.

“And I thought you had sworn your loyalty to the Tsaritsa, guess we were both wrong, huh.” He shrugged, but despite his nonchalance, his eyes gleamed with murderous intent.

“But…” With your resolve finally shattering, your voice was barely above a whisper. “I had no choice-”

“No. You had a choice and you chose Her Majesty, and when you become one of us, you acknowledged us as your family Y/N. You had no one when the Tsaritsa took you in but she gave you everything in order to see Snezhnaya and her people succeed. Heh, how pathetic, you really are useless.”

He picked up his melee weapon that had been laying on the floor beside his foot, and after adjusting his grip on it, he turned his gaze towards something -someone, behind you.

Turning around, you caught the gaze of all ten Harbingers, each glaring daggers into your soul; and sitting on a throne above them was the Tsaritsa herself, staring down at you with eyes as cold as the snow that had begun to fall around you and all the other Fatui soldiers that had suddenly appeared around you.

“You should’ve honoured your word Y/N.”

“And you should’ve honoured yours Ajax…”

XxxxX

“… /N?”

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

You shot up with eyes as wide as saucers. You couldn’t stop shaking as your hands reached up to grip your now damp hair.

His empty laugh could still be heard echoing through your mind as you cried.

“Y/N I need you to calm down. It was just a dream, I promise.”

You tried, but no matter how much you did you couldn’t calm your breathing as the walls around you started to spin closer towards you.

You felt sick and your mind had blanked out -too far gone to register the voice of your lover beside you.

“Please Y/N, I need you to breathe, look at me and breathe…please.”

Finally managing to regain some form of your conscience, you turned your widened gaze towards the man beside you but froze when you realised who it was.

“A-Ajax?”

He slowly nodded, as if any abrupt movements would further affect your delicate state.

“It’s me.”

Thinking that he had successfully calmed you down, Tartaglia loosened his steady hold on you but swiftly pulled you into his chest when you suddenly started sobbing.

“I’m so…so sorry. Please don’t walk out on me…please, I- I can’t-”

“Hey now, who said anything about me leaving? I’m staying by your side until the end, I swear. Whatever you dreamt about was just a dream, nothing more, I promise you Y/N.”

At first you wanted to deny his words, but his sincerity proved him honest.

It was just a dream

You have someone

And he’ll stay with you

You kept on repeating those phrases to yourself as a means of calming yourself down, and sure enough -it worked.

“How about I make some breakfast for us, then we can take a walk to, um… where ever you wanna go. How’s that sound?” As he spoke Tartaglia’s gaze shifted towards the window; it was dawn and Archons knew that you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, so you nodded your head.

“Alright then. What would you like for breakfast, Love?”

#🍁.content book #genshin fic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x reader #tartagalia genshin impact #tartagalia x reader #genshin tartagalia #genshin impact fatui #childe

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angryschnauzer · 3 years ago

Text

Once Bitten

Summary: Whilst vacationing on a Colorado Ranch to try and overcome your writers block, you find yourself being drawn to the cowboys that staff the ranch rather than getting any actual work done. After a small accident in the truck you find yourself a lot closer to one cowboy in particular, who has a secret you are about to discover.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 3204

Tags: Chris Evans (Actor) & Reader, Chris Evans (Actor)/You, AU Vampire Chris NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, Vaginal Sex, Spanking, neck biting, Vampires, Oral Sex, Cum Play

Notes: This is a rewrite of a old Hiddleston fic, but i felt it fit with Chris too. The original was written 5+ years ago so may not be my finest work.

I do not operate a tag list or masterlist. All my previous stories can be found at @angryschnauzerwrites, to get an alert whenever i post a new story, follow that blog and put it onto notifications. You can also find all my work on AO3.

You bounced in the seat of the truck as it made its way along the dirt track back to the lodge, a cloud of dust spewing from beneath the wheels. Clinging to the steering wheel, your knuckles white, you wished you’d taken the bigger, newer truck, the one with power steering. And a heater. And Seatbelts. But no, you had taken the smaller older one instead as it was easier to park.

Your cousin’s Colorado ranch had always been a refuge for you, so when you were suffering from writers block you’d asked if you could rent their lodge for a few weeks, hoping the quiet solitude of the Colorado landscape would inspire you. Little did you know that the only things around that would inspire, would be tumbleweeds and cowboys. And as a crime writer being inspired by watching lithe and toned men riding horses all day was not helping, in fact you were soon to end up in the romance isle of the bookstores, especially watching their taught and muscled thighs as they clung to the horses, sweat dripping down their bodies, hats tipped to the low autumn sunsets;

“HOLY CRAP!”

You were suddenly drawn out of your daydream as the one and only bend in the track had snuck up on you as you, slamming on the brakes but it was too late, the tyres skid on the loose earth, and you ploughed into the ditch, coming to an abrupt stop, albeit at a 45º angle.

Coughing as the cloud of dust settled, you groaned as a pain shot through your head, pulling yourself up to the driver’s seat you glanced into the rear-view mirror. A slight cut on your forehead, you touched it lightly and winced, there was going to be one hell of a lump there in the morning. Testing your limbs and you were relieved that they all worked fine.

“Darlin’, y’alright?”

The sudden voice at the side of the truck startled you, making you squeal and let go of the steering wheel, causing you slide over the bench seat to the far side of the truck. It was Chris; one of the ranch hands, in fact the one in particular you’d been trying to keep out of your mind.

“Miss?” He enquired

Snapping out of your trance you finally squeaked out an answer;

“Chris, thank you...yes I’m fine.”

“Here, lemme’ give ya’ hand.” he said, wrenching the door open and reaching into the truck as you extended your hand, and he was pulling you out of the truck and onto the side of the road. You swayed slightly, a sudden rush of blood to your head.

He steadied you, watching you sway slightly before you settled;

“You’re bleeding...” he said, his nostrils slightly flaring, those intense eyes staring at the wound on your head.

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a plaid handkerchief, gently pressing it to your head wound. His tongue lightly reached out and touched his top lip with concentration as you felt his light touch, his fingers cold against your heated skin.

“Do you need a ride Miss?”

Hell yes you thought, but you realised the ride that you had in mind was probably not what he meant.

“That would be very kind of you, thank you” you replied as you managed to pull your mind from the gutter you said with a smile, hoping you weren’t stumbling on your words too much.

“Great!” He said with a smile that sent shivers down your spine; “I’ll just untie Vincent...”

“Vincent?”

“My horse.”

You paled a little. In the weeks you’d spent on the farm you’d so far managed to avoid actually riding a horse, they didn’t like you, you didn’t like them, even after a lot of trying on your part with you offering them carrots and sugar cubes over the fences, trying to stroke their noses and generally be nice to them, you’d been nibbled, snorted at, and most of the time they just ran off leaving you coughing and spluttering from the dust they stirred up.

You watched as Chris strode over to the fence where he’d tied Vincent and busied himself unhooking the reins, turning to you as if presenting his steed to you. Reluctantly you walked over, not entirely sure how to even get onto this damned beast.

“Just put your foot into the stirrup and pull yourself up.” He said as he held the animal still.

Right. Well. Ok. You might as well try, knowing you were more than likely going to make an utter fool of yourself. Foot into stirrup and gripping onto the saddle, you heaved yourself up. Imagine a toddler trying to climb over a beach ball but getting stuck halfway; butt in the air, you’d neglected to swing your free leg over the horses back and as you now tried to lift your knee the horse to start shifting. This wasn’t going well, and you were just thankful that Chris couldn’t see your face that had no doubt turned a rather comical look of indignant frustration on it right then.

“Here let me help.” As he rested his hand on your free leg “Lift your knee and part your legs, you need to swing it over to get into the riding position.”

Well duh, your mind was now not on the kind of riding you were currently attempting, but as you felt Chris’s strong hand lift your knee over the saddle you were suddenly upright and sat on the horse. You wobbled a little where your feet had fallen out of the stirrups, but your mind was soon elsewhere as Chris lifted himself skilfully onto the saddle behind you, settling in, his crotch pressing against your butt.

You chanted a little mantra in your mind to keep your thoughts of arousal at bay as he arranged the reins and you set off, the weight of his body pressing you forward in the saddle, pressing your crotch against the little uppy-holdy-thingy at the front of the saddle that you presumed was a form of a handle for when only one person was using the saddle.

Soon you were on your way, Chris clicking his tongue and the horse slowly turned towards the ranch. The gentle rock and sway of the horse as it plodded its way along the track soon had you a little worked up, not to mention the hardness you were starting to feel press into the back of your jeans. In an attempt to distract yourself you started chattering away, attempting to make small talk whilst trying to disguise the fact you were a little breathless from the gentle pressure that was tormenting you, turning you on. You were thankful for the darkness that was descending around you as you were sure when you did get off this damned animal the front of your jeans would be soaked through. Chris was more of a listener than a talker, very few words of his being part of your conversation, yet as you felt his breath on your neck, your voice faltered and you spent the rest of the journey in silence, until your cabin appeared over the hill, the last rays of the sunset making the windows seem ablaze.

As you rode past the windows, you saw your reflection in them, you riding the horse. You. On a horse. Just you. Wait, what? Before your mind could process the sight Chris pulled on the reins and Vincent came to a halt at the bottom of the porch steps, letting out a little snort as it did so;

“Let me get off first then I’ll give you a hand down.”

Chris skilfully hopped off the horse, making it seem so graceful. Now it was your turn; swinging your far leg over the saddle you got halfway there but your foot got caught in something. Giving it a little shake it caused your body to overbalance, and you watched almost in slow motion as you practically oozed off the horse into an upside down heap, your foot still caught, your shoulders on the ground and your foot suspended above you.

You heard Chris suppress a snigger; “Not a natural rider are ya’?” as he reached over and unhooked whatever had caught your foot, causing you to fall to the ground with a grunt. He quickly hooked the reins over the porch and extended a hand to you, pulling you to your feet. You swayed a little, falling against his chest. Oh the scent – spice and musk – you could have buried your face into that plaid shirt and just inhaled, but perhaps not, perhaps that’d be just slightly inappropriate, you reasoned with yourself.

Pulling yourself right again you were still slightly unsteady on your feet, you felt Chris’s arm around your hip as he helped you up the porch steps and reached for the door, pushing the pair of you inside. You turned to thank him but he was suddenly upon you, his long arms around yours, pinning them to your sides, there was a sharpness to his movements as he spun you around so your back was against his chest. He tilted your head to one side and you realised it was not passion that was driving him. You felt his lips on your neck then the sharpness of teeth. Very sharp teeth. You screamed as you felt them pierce your skin, struggling in his arms as you felt a burning on your neck, the teeth sinking deeper. You could hear the suckling noises as he drank from you, his lips firmly against your neck, his tongue massaging the spot below where his teeth had breached your skin. You started to slump in his arms, realisation that you’d fallen into the arms of a monster. But as your body relaxed, you started to feel the desire within you build again. The feel of his lips and tongue on your neck was now dulling the pain his teeth had caused. You relaxed in his arms and found your feet, pressing back against his chest, not realising your desire until you groaned as his lips moved against your neck.

You reached back, your arms grasping onto the sides of his jeans, pulling him against you. You could feel that he was hard, and very big from the feel of it. His grip around your torso loosened, and one hand moved up to where your shirt was buttoned, ripping down in one swift motion, buttons springing apart as they flew off. His hand splayed over the soft flesh of your stomach, running up to your bra, and slipping inside to grasp on your breasts. Never releasing his lips hold on your neck, but you could no longer feel his teeth within you, only the soft suckling of his tongue.

He released his grip on you but rather than running you simply span around in his arms and pulled him down so his lips met yours. You could taste a metallic tang on his lips and tongue and realised it was your blood. Rather than disgusting you it turned you on even more.

You ran your hands to his chest, fumbling with the buttons as you rid him of his shirt, running your hands over the soft jersey of his tee before pulling that up so you could touch his toned chest, down his stomach to where a small trail of hair led to further delights below.

Never breaking contact with his lips you blindly worked on his belt, unbuttoning his jeans and working your hand inside, feeling his hard dick loose within the denim. Not releasing him your other hand lowered his fly, allowing you further access and his firm hardness heavy in your hand.

Breaking away from the kiss you grinned up at him, his gaze boring deep into you, a slight look of shock on his face.

“You’re not running. Ya’ not scared?”

You didn’t answer, instead you started to drop to your knees, keeping hold of his dick as you ran your other hand down his thigh, your fingers softly running over the firm muscles, gently tickling the hairs that covered his skin. On your knees you looked up at him, licking your lips before pressing them forwards and placing a gentle kiss on the tip. Running your tongue over the slit, tasting the salty liquid that had pooled there.

Never breaking eye contact you opened your mouth and took his hard shaft between your lips. You slid your tongue along the seam underneath, bobbing your head slowly up and down. As you watched Chris’s face you could see his fangs descending again, his eyes becoming hooded until his head tipped back. Taking him deeper you felt his tip against the back of your throat, inciting a groan from above you.

Pulling back off you lightly grazed your teeth against his dick, catching around the head and gently over the crown. Well, if he was going to violate you with his teeth it’s the least you could do as payback. However he seemed to enjoy it, as his hands flew to your head and you heard him mutter;

“Oh god Darlin’, do that again.”

Happy to oblige you repeated your actions, running your teeth over him, lightly all the time and then down his length, taking him deep again. On the third pass you heard a hiss escape from his lips; “Enough”, before he roughly pulled you to your feet, and crushing you against his chest for a rough kiss.

He toed off his boots and stepped out of his fallen jeans, walking you backwards over to the couch, spinning you around so the front of your thighs were against the upholstery. Bringing his hands up to your breasts, he grasped the front of your bra, tearing it in two, before roughly pawing at them, your nipples rubbing against his calloused palms.

You felt his lips against your ear; “You’re hot for me... so desperate and eager. I like it.”

His hands lowered to your jeans, releasing your fly and pushing the material away, before rubbing his hand between your thighs, feeling how wet your panties were, pushing at your folds through the cotton, as he rutted into the crease of your butt; “So wet for me... does fear turn you on?”

“I’m not afraid.”

He chuckled into your ear; “You should be...”

He ripped the material in two, letting the remains of your panties fall to the floor before pushing you over the arm of the couch, leaving you prone and your thighs wide.

Steadying yourself on the cushions you glanced over your shoulder, admiring Chris’s near naked body, his dick in his hand as he came up behind you. He paused for a moment as he pulled his crumpled tee over his head before steadying himself with a hand on your rump and you felt his tip against your swollen pussy. As he slowly ran the tip up and down your folds, soaking it with your juices, you moaned, wriggling your hips, needing to be filled.

“Getting desperate for me?” Chris said with a heavy voice

“Just fuck me, now!” you practically screamed at him.

“Your wish is my command.” and before you could brace yourself he’d pressed into you, sinking deep on the first thrust. He seemed to go on forever, inch after inch slid into you, only for it all to be suddenly withdrawn and thrust back in one making you squeal;

“Yes! Oh God!”

“You couldn’t get farther from God if you tried.” and with that he set off at a punishing pace, fucking you hard, bent over and prone to him, his big hands gripping tightly – painfully – onto your hips as he used your body.

You’d never been fucked so hard or so well, you were writhing on the sofa in ecstasy, the man, no; the monster behind you never relenting on his actions on your body, making your juices flow down your thighs, his large hands spreading your legs wider so that his thick girth could gain further entry. You felt one of his hands flutter over your rump.

The suddenness of his palm making contact with your behind made you squeal, your breath catching in your throat as you anticipated another, not to be disappointed when his palm made contact with your other buttock moments later.

Something you hadn’t liked to admit to any of your ex’s is that done right you were quite happy with a bit of spanking, but those that had attempted it had always done it half-heartedly.

“Oh fuck, Chris... please... don’t stop.”

Never letting up on his pace of fucking your pussy he started to spank you in time to his thrusts, and as you felt your orgasm building, you gripped tightly onto the cushions of the couch;

“Yes yes yes yes yes, more, harder!” All spluttering from your mouth, begging and pleading, getting closer and closer, until your body succumbed to the pleasure, gripping onto him as you rode out your orgasm, writhing beneath his touch, rocking your body, the waves of ecstasy flowing over you as it overwhelmed your mind.

Chris smoothed his palms over your reddened cheeks before going back to gripping your thighs, his thrusts getting harder and faster as he now drove into your pleasure soaked body.

Suddenly he pulled out and grasped your shoulder, pulling you round and down to your knees. As he towered over you, his voice low and deep;

“Open your mouth” you did as he asked, on your knees in front of him, he furiously stroked his dick, you reached for your tits and played with them;

“Such a good girl” he praised as his body went rigid and he started to cum, watching as ropes of it sprayed over your face and chest, dripping down between your tits. One last spurt, and he brought his dick up to your lips where you gently took him in, tasting your combined pleasure on it, gently giving it a single suck before releasing him.

He staggered back and found the breakfast bar, resting against a barstool. Both of you out of breath, a hungry silence hung in the air, only broken by the sounds of your breathing as you still gasped for air.

You were the first to break the silence; “How come I didn’t need to invite you in?”

“It’s not your home. I can come and go as a please as long as it’s not the persons main residence.” Chris replied.

“You’re really a vampire?”

“Do you need more proof?”

“Are you going to turn into a bat or something?”

He sighed; “Why would I want to turn myself into a bat?” a small smirk appeared on his lips;

“Anyway I suggest you get up off your knees Darlin’, I’m not done with you for the night yet”. He said with a very dirty grin now spreading over his face.

No longer afraid you got to your feet;

“I’ll be ready for you in the shower”

You made your way to the bathroom, looking over your shoulder as you swayed your hips;

“You coming?”

“Yup, and so will you be Darlin’”

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x you #vampire!Chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader

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jincherie · 4 years ago

Text

four’s company | rapline [m]

✘ — pairing: boxer!rapline x male!reader ✘ — genre: smut!, boxer au, poly au ✘ — wc: 6.4k ✘ — rating: 18+ ✘ — warnings: minor injuries (occupational hazard kind), smut: mxm, light (accidental) voyeurism, light hand kink, baby boy reader, sub/bottom reader, dom/top members, foursome, anal sex, protected sex (don’t forget to wrap ‘em, lads and ladies!), fellatio ✘ — notes: part of a fic exchange within the ghostie network, i’m sorry it’s late!!!!! please accept my humblest apologies!!! @bangtanloverboys here you go!! i hope it’s not too shitty!!!

If accidentally walking in on your three crushes in a heated moment, not once, not twice, but thrice isn’t enough to capture their attention, then you don’t know what is. You’re about to find out that you’ve had their attention for a while, though.

— posted; 02.01.2021 || masterlist

For what is far from the first time tonight, you feel the weight of a certain gaze.

Well, to be more specific, it hasn’t just been one gaze you’ve felt on you tonight. More like… three.

You know who they belong to, unfortunately. It’s the same three people that you found in an… interesting situation earlier. On that was, no doubt, not meant for outside eyes.

Well, you say that, but you feel like that’s just because you, yourself, are mortified. To be honest, the three boxers you found locking lips and making out in the locker room didn’t seem to be all that ashamed about it.

In fact, when they caught you in the motion of fleeing, they’d had the audacity to grin about it!

Utterly humiliating. You haven’t been able to bring your gaze anywhere near them all day. To make matters worse, you couldn’t even flee to the safety of your home or anywhere similar, because there is a match tonight and you’re needed as a qualified first aid officer.

Which brings you to the current predicament; sitting ringside and attempting to avoid the gazes of the three boxers seated on the side adjacent. Try as you might, it’s actually a struggle to keep your eyes on the current match. It’s a rookie night, and you feel extra bad since one of the people in the ring is actually a close friend.

Though, perhaps you should demote Jungkook from ‘close friend’ status considering he is the reason you started working here and subsequently, had the opportunity to stumble upon a certain scenario this morning. Were it not for him and his stupid, pleading puppy eyes, you wouldn’t have a particular embarrassing image burned into the back of your eyelids.

You know that despite his rookie status, Jungkook is quite a naturally talented boxer. Perhaps that is part of the reason that your brain thinks it’s okay to let your eyes stray from the match instead of watching attentively as you’re expected to. The subconscious certainty that Jungkook can handle himself seems to be your undoing, because in a moment of inattentiveness your eyes manage to reach the area you’d been trying so hard for them to avoid.

As you’d both feared and expected, they are in fact already looking at you. Well, one of the three. It is the piercing gaze of the club's current lightweight champion, Min Yoongi, that bores a hole into you right now. The two accomplices to his side aren't joining him in drilling their eyes into you across the room for now, instead leaning into each other as though they're whispering amongst themselves.

There's something about Yoongi's eyes, dark and piercing, that seem to always root you in place no matter where you are. His expression, as it usually tends to be, is unreadable. It's a certain kind of neutrality that graces his features, thin enough that you can tell there is something behind it but too opaque for you to be able to discern exactly what.

You don't even realise you're trapped in his gaze until the sounding of the bell snaps you out of the spell that seemed to be cast over you. Your head whips back around and you see the referee signalling the end of the bout, and just beyond him Jungkook is standing slightly bent over as he offers a hand to his opponent on the canvas. To your alarm, it is only now that you notice the blood dribbling down the man’s face. The reasonable crowd that has gathered is still cheering (Jungkook was quick to rise as one of the fan favourites) and it’s a wonder you can hear the referee’s call above the ruckus.

“Medic!”

That’s your cue.

x – x – x

“You look kind of on edge, man. Are you alright?”

You’re almost too busy staring into your coffee in a borderline dissociative state to hear Jungkook as he calls for your attention. It has to be about the thirteenth time in the past half hour, but you can’t find the energy to be ashamed about it. Mostly because all of your shame and embarrassment are focused on other areas right now.

It had happened again.

Is it just your luck? You don’t know whether to dub it as rotten luck, because you feel it would be a bit of an insult to the boxers you’d once more found in a suggestive situation. But considering it good luck feels kind of sleazy, because although you’re embarrassed as hell, all things considered what you walked in on wasn’t a bad view—

No, that thought is stopping there. Any further and you’ll only incriminate yourself and you’ll have to dose yourself with another fresh shot of shame.

Realising that you still haven’t answered the concerned-looking boy sprawled in the chair to your side, you offer him a non-committal grunt. It’s the best you can do while you take another moment to form actual coherent thought.

“I’ve never been better,” you say, and immediately Jungkook lets loose an abrupt snort.

“You look like shit, so don’t bother trying to lie. Are you having trouble sleeping again or something?”

You survey him for a moment, touched that he remembers the insomnia that had ailed you for a few months a while back. “Actually, I’ve been sleeping pretty good the past few months.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, making you squint at him in question. “Oh, I’ll bet you have, considering the things you were saying in your sleep last time I stayed over.”

You simply look at him, wondering whether he’s going to be an ass and continue. You don’t have to wait long for an answer.

“You were all like, ‘nngh, Namjoon,’ and ‘oh, Yoongi’, and then you said something about Hoseok too but I can’t quite remember, probably because it was so x-rated that my poor baby brain banished it from my memory—”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off, gripping the plastic spoon that came with your drink painfully tight. “Shut up.”

This is most definitely not the conversation to be having in the café barely a block away from the boxing gym where the two of you frequent, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to get the hint. Actually, you’re pretty sure he got the hint and he just doesn’t care enough to heed it.

“You really ought to do something about that crush of yours, bro. There’s three of them, so there’s three times the misery if you sit on your ass instead of—”

“Jungkook,” you attempt to warn him again, glaring slightly this time. You’ve scooped some of the whipped cream off of his plate of pancakes and hold the tip of the spoon back, threatening to fling it at him should he keep talking.

“—doing something, you know? I’ve seen them practically undress you with their eyes enough times by now that I could fill out a diary with all the incidents I’ve witnessed. Plus, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how often they ‘hurt’ themselves as an excuse to see you? I really don’t think you have much to lose, especially with an ass like yours—well, it’s nothing like the cake I’m serving, but still, it deserves some praise—ACK!”

Ah, so he has chosen death.

You discard the now-empty spoon onto a napkin, taking a long sip of your drink. It seems Jungkook has engaged his ape brain more today than usual as instead of wiping the cream off his face like any normal human would, he’s attempting to reach it with his tongue. His chances aren’t good, to be honest; though you reckon your mutual friend Jimin would be able to get it from that distance. Dude has a tongue like a lizard.

“You have Seven Days,” you tell him, struggling not to let a smile through as the amateur boxer whines, unable to reach the cream.

“You have seven days,” he grumbles sulkily, reaching with a begrudging hand for a napkin. “Do something or I’ll expose your ass.”

You roll your eyes, ninety-nine percent sure that he’s kidding.

…

That other one percent worries you a bit though.

x – x – x

You take back what you decided earlier— something is definitely wrong with your luck.

“And how did you hurt your knee again?”

“I tripped on the stairs.”

Jung Hoseok, the club’s current star welterweight boxer, sits before you in your little medical office. There aren’t any matches on today, but you’re on shift because the club members are doing some of the more rigorous training; there is an important few matches coming up for a few members, and they all want to be as prepared as possible. As tends to be the occupational hazard, training can often lead to injuries that need to be immediately attended to.

You can’t say, though, that this is the type you were expecting when you rocked up today.

Hoseok is beaming at you, all sincerity and sparkles. There’s a slight bit of dark regrowth in his hair that catches your eye as you survey him, the crimson ends sticking to his forehead lightly from sweat. He looks every bit earnest and honest as he sits in front of you, but you can’t help but suspect him just slightly.

Because you’re not sure any of the club members have ever made their way to your office for a graze that wouldn’t even phase a kindergartener.

“Well,” you say, trying to ignore what Jungkook had said barely a day or two ago that floats back into your head now. “The good news is, it’s not fatal.”

Hoseok lets out a great, dramatic huff in relief. “Oh, thank god. I was so scared this might have been the end.”

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how often they ‘hurt’ themselves as an excuse to see you?’

Is that what this is? An excuse to see you? A look spared for the man before you leads you to conclude: probably not. He’s a little too radiant to be seeking out lil’ ol’ you.

“Not this time,” you say, rummaging through your small box of mismatched bandages. Finding what you’re looking for, you turn back around and begin preparing it to place it on Hoseok’s knee. “You live to see another day.”

Hoseok shifts like he’s about to say something in response, but cuts himself off with a surprised laugh when he sees the band-aid you put on him. “Wh—you have Minions band-aids?!”

“I reserve them for special patients,” you say before you can stop yourself, promptly clamping your mouth shut a little too late. Your cheeks… you just hope the heat gathering there isn’t obvious.

Something shifts in Hoseok’s gaze as he surveys you for a moment, before hopping from the bed, testing his knee out like he’d sprained it instead of scratching it. The look is gone before you can fully decipher it and he’s back to grinning brightly once more.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll have to come back often. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.” Hoseok’s smile adopts a slightly cheeky edge as he makes his way to the door, lifting two fingers to his temple in a lazy salute. “See you later, doc!”

Then he’s gone before you can return the farewell, door closing definitively behind him and leaving the room in silence.

Are you going crazy, or did Hoseok— one of the three boxers you’ve happened to walk in on twice now—just return your light flirting?

… God, you hope it wasn’t because of the minion band-aid.

x – x – x

You wish that visit had been an isolated incident, but you had a repeat of it at least twice a week. Each time Hoseok would rock up grinning at your door with some other minor injury, all but demanding a minion band-aid for his troubles. You gave it to him, of course, but you still hope he doesn’t remember you as the minion band-aids guy.

Surprisingly enough, it isn’t only Hoseok that has been cropping up more often in your day-to-day. You’ve had a few surprise encounters with Yoongi, who lately has taken to giving you a sly, unreadable look before turning away, leaving you in your own confusion. Sometimes you’ll get carried away watching him or one of the other boxers practice, and before you know it he has caught you staring red-handed and you’re forced to flee the room to escape the smug, intrigued look that slips into his eyes.

It’s after such an occasion that you find yourself in the main locker room, attempting to multitask by looking for a box of first aid supplies hidden in the top shelves and giving your face a chance to cool down. It’s taken you so long to even find the damn box that your embarrassment has all but evaporated by now. By the time your eyes lock onto the scuffed white box peeking over the edge of the highest shelf in the corner of the room, you’re more than ready to snatch it down and escape back to the comfort of your dingy little office.

Of course, it couldn’t ever be so easy for you. Not given your recent string of poor luck.

You don’t consider your height to be remarkably anything, and normally you don’t have that much trouble reaching the cookie jar on the top shelf in your apartment but for some reason the shelves in this building are built to cater to giants, and try as you might you simply cannot reach. You’re literally about to abandon the last of your dignity and attempt jumping for it, when there is a light scuff on the floor from behind you and then a firm warmth pressing into your back.

In all honesty, your brain short-circuits. For a second you think you might have even blacked out, because it takes at least three seconds for you to realise what is happening, and by that time the figure has already retreated back from your form.

Somewhat dazed, you turn around to see one Kim Namjoon, the clubs leading middleweight champion and the third and final member of those racy scenarios you happened to walk in on oh-so long ago. In his hands is the box you’d been struggling so much to reach, and on his face is a look that somehow blends sheepishness and amusement into one attractive cocktail on his features.

“Here you go,” he says, and for a shamefully long moment all you can do is stand and soak in the lovely timbre of his voice. By the time you snap out of it, a small smile has begun to curl on his lips. You pointedly avoid looking at the dimples that are beginning to show as a result.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you say, trying to make it as natural as possible as you reach and take the box from his hold. “Whoever put it up there seems to have a vendetta against me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he says, and there’s suddenly something a little secretive about the way he’s smiling. It makes you suspicious, and once more the words Jungkook prattled into your ear a week or so ago come rattling back into your brain.

Is this something similar to what Hoseok had done? Did Namjoon put the box on a higher shelf?

“Are you calling me short?” For some reason, that’s what comes out of your mouth. There is a slight disconnect from what you said and what Namjoon had said previously, but he seems to make the connection. He tilts his head back and a rich laugh tumbles forth. It sounds nicer than you wish to admit to yourself.

“Never,” he finally answers, grinning. “Though, feel free to come get me next time you lose against a shelf.”

Your mouth drops open in affront, but he makes a departure too quick for you to respond. His laughter echoes down the halls and you’re left reeling in your spot.

This isn’t what you expected to happen after walking in on a few intimate situations. In fact, this is quite the opposite.

What is happening?

x – x – x

As the weeks go by, there are several big nights and several big matches. Hoseok and Yoongi, among a few others from the gym, emerge victorious. At this point you’re not too ashamed to say that you spent the entirety of their matches watching the way their muscles rippled as they dodged, swung and wove around the ring. If the last shred of dignity still clinging to you had disappeared, then you probably would have drooled like a dog.

The nights tend to go by weight classes, and the next upcoming night is to showcase the middleweight boxers. While Jungkook classifies for the class, as one of the newer recruits he isn’t the first choice for the match—much to his dismay.

It is approximately a week before this big match, in which Namjoon, one of the three men who live in your head rent-free these days, is participating, that you’re woken from your sleep and called into the gym.

It’s your night off, actually, so for you to be called in there must have been a pretty serious injury. You’re proven right when you enter the building and walk into the main room.

Before you can even assess the scene, Yoongi spots you and darts on over. He has a look on his face that you don’t think he’s ever sported before, and it fills you with a feeling of dread. It seems an appropriate feeling, considering what you see when you advance further into the room, towed by the frantic blonde who’d fetched you.

“Holy shit, what the hell happened?!” You dart forward, Yoongi’s grip slipping from your wrist as you move out of his reach.

Namjoon is seated on the floor in a squat, cradling his left hand to his chest. A grimace twists his features, eyes glistening but face clear of tears.

To your complete and utter surprise, the familiar tenor of Jungkook’s voice reaches your ears. You didn’t know he had stayed behind to practice tonight.

“We were leaving after practicing a bit later than normal, and some assholes drove past and picked a fight. I think—I think they were members from one of the rival clubs on the other side of the city but it was kind of dark and I didn’t get a good look.”

Your brows shoot up—that’s risky behaviour on their part, if it was actually members of a rival club that did this. Judges of this particular tournament don’t look kindly on foul play.

It would make sense if it’s true, though; a lot of local clubs tend to have boxers in the middleweight range, and Namjoon has emerged from enough matches victorious that he’s actually quite a threat.

“Let me see,” you say, holding your hands out to Namjoon for him to rest his injured one in your hold. “Jungkook, go get the big tin box with the red cross from my office. Make sure it’s the one with antiseptic and bandages.”

You don’t even need to check he’s listened, because you can hear the frantic, obedient pattering of his feet fading away in the distance as you unwrap the blood-drenched towel from the hand in your hold. Namjoon’s busted up limb takes all of your attention the second you lay eyes on it properly, your stomach filling with an unpleasant, nameless cocktail of sensations.

“Holy shit,” you say, unable to contain your wince. “Tell me you didn’t get this from fighting them bare-knuckle.”

Namjoon has enough capacity for humour right now that he lets out a little huff. Yoongi fills you in before Namjoon has a chance.

“No, though I almost did.” His expression is dark, the heat of his anger reaching you even when it’s not directed your way. “They were probably drinking before coming here, since they had a few bottles they threw into the mix.”

That explains the gashes you’re seeing on Namjoon’s palm— it seems he caught one of the bottles, though you’re not sure whether it was already broken or whether it broke on impact. Thankfully, from what you can see, the gashes and lacerations aren’t too deep and shouldn’t cause lasting damage, but they’ll definitely take a while to heal, and one or two of them look like they will need stitches.

“Alright,” you begin, sighing softly. “I’ll do what I can to fix this up for now, but you’re going to have to go to the ER, because some of these will need stitches…”

You look up, reading the expressions of everyone in attendance and knowing that they have all reached the same conclusion regarding Namjoon’s immediate fate as a boxer.

“Sorry, Namjoon,” you start, watching his features crumble ever so slightly into a look of resignation. “This isn’t going to heal in time for next week, and you definitely won’t be able to train for a while.”

It’s just as you announce that, that Jungkook returns with your box of first-aid goodies. Hoseok, who has remained surprisingly silent the whole time this conversation has gone on, takes the box from his hold and delivers it next to you. Surprising all of you, Namjoon is quick to look up and pin Jungkook with a grin.

“Well, since I can’t participate—how do you feel about making your Big Boy Boxing Debut, Jungkookie?”

Your friend is rooted to the spot in shock for a solid few moments, before he snaps out of it and an excited if slightly nervous expression filters onto his face.

“I will defend your honour, Namjoon!” he declares, saluting stupidly. “Count on me!”

Cheesy of him, but you can’t help the smile that tugs your lips. You just hope it’s not too late-notice for him, and that Namjoon’s injuries really aren’t that serious, as you surmise.

x – x – x

The week passes quicker than you anticipate, and before you know it, it’s the night of the big match—Jungkook’s first big match, that is. Namjoon had done his best over the days to coach Jungkook on the particular fighting styles of the opponents he normally faces, and to everyone’s pleasant surprise, Jungkook has picked it all up with ease.

You’re more surprised to say that you’re not even that nervous, as you sit waiting for the match to begin. Jungkook stands in one corner, his opponent from one of the more renowned rival gyms in the other. You prepare to be on standby in case either boxer is injured enough to need aid, but cross your fingers that if anything at least Jungkook will be alright.

In the blink of an eye, the match begins and the first bout kicks off. Jungkook’s opponent is slightly stockier, likely pushing the upper limits of the weight class, and is the first to make an offensive move. The familiar sound of cushioned gloves making impact rings in the air and you find yourself tensing in your seat as you watch the two interchange blows.

It’s pretty much neck-and-neck for a majority of the bouts. Some of them go quick, and others seem to consist of the longest three minutes of your life. Still, the match goes on, and the night is filled with the siren song of the crowd and the ring of the bell.

After a night of close-call bouts and baited breath, Jungkook finally emerges victorious.

Ever the fan favourite, the crowd that has amassed erupt into cheers as the referee declares the end of the final bout and Jungkook is held up as the victor. With the match decided, the club members that had been watching ringside burst up and swarm around the young boxer who brought pride to the gym on his very first big match. The three boxers that usually occupy your thoughts wriggle their way up there too, and it’s Hoseok’s bright tone that pierces the ruckus of the crowd.

“Drinks at ours to celebrate our victor, Jungkookie!” he caws, rubbing Jungkook on the back in something akin to pride. “Members of King Hit Gym, we better see you all there!”

You mightn’t be a technical member, but the way you suddenly feel three sets of eyes on you tells you that you’re still more than invited.

x – x – x

It’s three hours since the end of the match, and you’re more than a little tipsy.

You can safely say that you haven’t ever been to the house where Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi live, but you’re nothing short of impressed. It’s a three-storey townhouse, with three rooms— presumably one for each of them, though from what you’d glimpsed on the way to the bathroom earlier only one of them appears regularly lived in.

It didn’t take you long to ponder exactly why, considering the things you’ve accidentally witnessed in the past month.

Most of your time tonight was spent celebrating with Jungkook as he made the rounds and received congratulations from the rest of the club members. Music thrums through the building, bass vibrating pleasantly through your chest every time you pass the expensive speakers in the living room.

You’ve paced yourself well, all things considered. All you had to do to avoid an early night ending in blackout drunkenness was steer clear of Jungkook whenever he made his way by the kitchen to refill— he’d learnt his mixing skills from Jimin, a verified alcoholic back in the day who spent his time in university trying to throw together his own signature cocktail with the same alcohol percentage as absinthe.

So you’re relatively proud of yourself to only be a little over tipsy at this point in the night. You can’t really say the same for the rest of the club members, though— even Jungkook has reached a point where he is stumbling and giggling. Which, of course, led to the event that splattered drink all over your shirt.

You’re wandering up the stairs now, mind occupied with everything but what you’re doing as you absentmindedly seek the bathroom to clean your shirt. You haven’t seen any of the homeowners in a while, actually, which is kind of disappointing because you’re really longing for some eye candy right about now. They disappeared about ten minutes ago, and you figured it was just to socialise or maybe grab more snacks but you haven’t paid it much thought since then, and now you’re realising they hadn’t returned to the party yet.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you pause for a moment to try and recall which room is the bathroom. There’s two of them, you remember being told, one ensuite and a main bathroom. There was also a third one on the first floor, but that was too far for you to attempt reaching it. Unable to remember which door is which, you simply decide to wing it and march on forward towards the first door to enter your line of sight. You’re pretty stable, but your head is kind of fuzzy, so your hand hovers by the wall as you walk just in case you stumble.

Upon reaching the door in question, it takes you about a second and a half to realise the room you have reached is not the one you want, and another second for the shock to reach you.

Because, for the third time in a month, you have walked in on something you shouldn’t have.

Except this time, you can’t seem to pull yourself away as fast as you should.

It’s Hoseok and Namjoon tangled before you this time, in a position much more intimate than the last you’d seen. Their lips are locked, Hoseok straddling one of Namjoon’s thighs with one hand tangled in inky locks and the other rubbing over his crotch, where a prominent bulge makes itself known even to your eyes. Just when you remember that you should really be on your way, their lips break apart and Namjoon’s head tilts back, a sinful, velvet moan climbing from his throat as Hoseok leans to pepper it with kisses. It’s mesmerising, and you forget you’re even there as you watch the red-haired man’s hand climb up Namjoon’s stomach and then slip beneath the waistband of his jeans.

You come back to yourself when you feel a familiar tightness in your own pants and a throb between your legs— of course, you’re hard. You’re too hazy-brained to even be ashamed of it right now. It does pierce through the fog, though, that you’re intruding on something you’re not meant to see. Like you’re trying to move limbs filled with lead, you start to drag your feet and turn around.

You barely get a step in before you’re face to face with someone strikingly familiar, and your heart drops in your chest before kicking back into motion at double speed.

“You always seem to enjoy watching, don’t you?” Yoongi’s question catches you off guard and puts you on the spot— before you can panic, though, his lips curl in a kittenish smile. “It’s alright, we already know you do, baby boy.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, stomach flipping giddily. Your eyes track it with surprising clarity as Yoongi’s hand— strong and sculpted and deliciously vascular, as you’d admired many times before— rises to caress your cheek, and he leans forward until his lips brush the sensitive skin of your earlobe.

“Why don’t you join us, this time?”

You find yourself nodding before you even realise it, but it’s definitely a decision you would make again any other day.

You feel Yoongi smile against your ear, and then he is pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and pulling back. That same strong hand winds around your wrist and you’re tugged into the room, the door shutting behind you. The two on the bed barely bat an eye at the arrival of their third lover and an extra figure, merely smiling dazedly at the two of you.

“Baby boy is finally gonna join us?” Hoseok asks, eyes lidded and dark to match the tousled look of his hair and clothes. His words are slightly slurred but the keenness to his gaze tells you he is still very much aware of everything he does.

Yoongi hums in confirmation, coming up behind you to wind his arms lazily around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Mhmm. Don’t stop on our account— why don’t you give him a bit of a show to start, hm?”

Hoseok needs no further prompting, a grin all you glimpse before he is diving back to crash his lips into Namjoon’s, hand moving inside his pants and eliciting a deep, throaty groan. It makes your own cock throb in need, and almost as though he reads your mind, Yoongi's voice sounds in your ear once more.

“You already hard, baby boy? Like what you see?”

Something about the husky quality of the boxer’s voice makes a shudder roll down your spine, a light whine slipping from your throat. Yoongi presses soft kisses to the skin of your neck as you watch the two on the bed undress each other between heated kisses.

“Want me to touch you, baby boy?”

As though possessed, your head begins nodding before you even think to act on the urge. Yoongi requires no further prompting; he begins to kiss and suckle along the column of your neck while his hands move— one creeps up beneath your shirt to flick a thumb over your nipple, and the other slips down, down, down beneath the waistband of your pants and boxers, until that hand you admire so much is slipping around your cock and squeezing just enough to make you gasp out a moan.

Pleasure and desire wind together to mix with the tipsy haze in your mind, and you’re more than happy to surrender yourself to the current situation. Slowly, you’re urged over to the bed, eyes still locked on the pair occupied there as Yoongi’s hand works magic on your length. You don’t even bother attempting to stem the gasps and moans tumbling forth because you know at this point it would probably be futile.

Hoseok has now stripped Namjoon entirely and is making his way down his body with his mouth, pressing a kiss against every inch of golden skin he can reach. Namjoon is quite generously endowed, and you can’t tear your eyes away as Hoseok finally reaches the apex of his thighs and begins to lavish attention to Namjoon’s flushed cock.

You can feel Yoongi grinding lightly against you as he strokes your own aching member, the two of you observing the show before you with rapt attention. At some point you’re rid of your shirt and the air feels cool against your flushed skin, your upper body leaning back against Yoongi contentedly. The noises spilling from Namjoon’s throat are downright sinful as Hoseok’s mouth sinks down on him with practiced ease.

It’s almost too much for you, really. Almost sensory overload. You’re urged ever so slowly to the bed, and as you sit on the plush mattress you happily oblige as Yoongi begins to undo and remove the jeans that are now uncomfortably tight. Your boxers follow soon after and then you’re joining the other two in their nudity. As though sensing the change in plans, Hoseok pulls off of Namjoon’s cock with a ‘pop’, licking his lips and ignoring the whine in protest that Namjoon lets out. “In a minute, bubs.”

Yoongi leans over to the bedside table to retrieve lube and something else you soon realise to be condoms as he tosses them on the bed between him and Hoseok.

“Are you alright with this?”

You turn at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, eyes meeting his own— though heady and full of desire, they’re also determined. You don’t doubt that if you say no, he will stop things here.

“Yes,” you confirm, and you watch as a smile pulls over Yoongi’s face.

“Excellent. Now, lean forward, baby boy. This might be a little cold.”

Without question, you allow him to shift and bend your body as needed, knees digging into the plush bedding. Tilting your head up, you manage to meet the eyes of Namjoon, who is in a similar position to yourself, just in time for you to gasp at the sudden cold sensation at your ass.

You’d think by now you would be used to the feeling of lube— you’re immediately distracted from that though at the sensation of Yoongi’s finger beginning to toy around your asshole. You allow yourself to relax as much as possible, turning your attention to Namjoon and Hoseok and simply enjoying the sensations Yoongi is eliciting.

Namjoon’s hand raises, cupping your cheek and dragging down ever so gently. Hoseok catches the movement and lets out a coo, eyes boring into your own.

“Wanna kiss him, baby boy? Go ahead, he’s good at it.”

You don’t need to be told twice, and neither does Namjoon. You find Hoseok definitely isn’t wrong as Namjoon’s lips meet your own, the kiss quickly turning heated as his mouth moves against your own. He swallows down your moans as Yoongi’s fingers begin to stretch you slowly, one by one.

You lose so much time in the hypnotic motion of bodies against your own that before you know it there is a gentle yet firm hand against your shoulder pulling you back from the man before you.

“Ready, baby?”

You nod, and soon after hear the familiar tear of foil before the head of Yoongi’s cock is pressing against your hole. You take a deep breath in, allowing your eyes to flutter closed as he begins to press himself in and stretch you open bit by bit. The burn isn’t particularly painful tonight, and to be honest sometimes you’re partial to the sensation.

By the time Yoongi is fully seated within you, you’re almost panting, soft moans escaping unwittingly. Through the fog of pleasure currently addling your brain, you hear similar noises in front of you and realise Namjoon must be in a similar state. Unconsciously, your hand stretches out, seeking contact, and manages to entwine with the large, warm one you identify as Namjoon’s good hand.

As soon as Yoongi receives the green light from you, he begins to move. The sensations of him dragging against your walls are enough to almost drive you mad, especially at the slow pace he’s set. It isn’t long before he picks up though, and soon rough the slap of his hips against your ass is one of the many sinful noises echoing in the room, muffled by the loud music still booming beyond the bedroom walls.

“O-oh, fuck,” you moan, barely coherent enough to respond to Namjoon’s seeking lips. Absently, you hear Yoongi’s soft groans and low murmured praises, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Good boy,” he all but purrs, hand caressing down your spine before finding purchase at your hips.

Time blurs and you’re wound so tight that it isn’t long before you feel yourself approaching that edge, your hand lowering to begin stroking your own cock again in an effort to reach your high faster. It’s one deep stroke that hits you in all the right places that is your undoing, and with a cry you’re cumming hard, spots appearing behind your eyes.

The sudden tightness around his cock has Yoongi stilling, a low, drawn out groan sounding from his throat as he joins you in your high, throbbing inside you. Your arms are a little too weak to continue holding you, but he seems to be in tune enough that he notices and his own slip around you, easing you into his embrace as he adjusts on the mattress and hums into your skin.

Namjoon and Hoseok aren’t far behind you, the two of them reaching their own end not long after. Namjoon flops against the bed, spent and Hoseok hops up to retrieve a bin and some wipes to clean up a bit before he too flops across the mattress, smacking Namjoon’s ass as he does and eliciting a brief whine in protest.

“Well fuck,” you hum, staring absently at the ceiling. Yoongi snorts, pulling you closer, and like they all share a hive mind you’re very suddenly in the middle of a cuddle pile as the other two join in.

“Beats just watching, doesn’t it?” One of them queries, probably Hoseok— you’re too tired to really discern it.

“Mhm,” you respond, basking in content. “Four’s company, I suppose.”

There are a few hums of agreement, and then comfortable silence falls over the room. You find yourself smiling as you sink into the most content sleep you’ve had in a while, in the arms of the three boxers who have nestled their way into your heart one by one

#bts smut #bts fic #btsghostie #namjoon smut #yoongi smut #hoseok smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x male reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi x male reader #hoseok x reader #hoseok x male reader #bts au #rapline fic #rapline smut #reader insert #my work #my writing #bts fanfic

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jacksjoke · 3 years ago

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Title: a firm foothold Pairing: Pitch/Bank Excerpt: Pitch looks at the way Bank bites his lip, his fingers holding tightly to the hem of his shirt, and asks, “Bank, are you… okay?” “Yeah,” Bank says, but sighs when Pitch raises his eyebrows. “Not really.” Ao3 link

Read story under cut.

“As if we’d leave!”

Sky shakes his head. His frustrated, overwrought expression has stiffened his features and Pitch doesn’t want to imagine the kind of fear he’s enduring right now. “We won’t know anything until tonight, if that,” Sky says plainly. “And anyway, they’ve already said he can’t have visitors until they’re sure he’s more stable, so there’s no use in all of us hanging around.”

“So you’ll be going home too then?” Bank deadpans.

“He needs me,” Sky says. At Bank’s mouth opening once more, he goes on, “Bank, one of my dad’s men is already on the way back with fresh clothes for me. Just go home, eat something. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Bank’s mouth is set, his eyebrows drawn, and Pitch can tell he wants to fight Sky on this. It’s not hard to understand, really; they rescued their friend from a mob kidnapping only to watch another get shot unconscious. They’re standing here alive by the skin of their teeth and to leave Sky like this is the opposite of who Bank is.

“Bank,” Pitch says, setting his hand hesitantly to the younger’s back. After a second, Bank looks at him, still frowning. “We’re covered in dust and haven’t eaten since morning. Let’s just head back for now.” He gives the slightest inclination of his chin toward Sky, a pointed look in his eyes that says they need to give their friend space, and Bank’s shoulders deflate as he sighs.

“You’ll really tell us if something changes?” he asks Sky. “Promise?”

Sky grins a tired smile. “Yes, Bank. I promise.”

Bank nods once, satisfied, and pats Sky’s arm kindly before turning on his heel with a little wave. “Bye bye,” he says. “Don’t forget!”

Sky rolls his eyes a little but nods, shooing them away. Pitch glances backward as he follows after Bank and catches the way Sky’s body has sagged forward, eyes already fallen to the floor. He needs time to process on his own, Pitch knew that, but it still hurts to see a friend going through something no one can fix.

“I’m starving,” Bank announces, sliding into the passenger’s seat.

“Let’s stop for a bite.”

Bank nods immediately, then appears to realise something in looking at Pitch. At Bank’s nose wrinkling, Pitch looks down at his filthy uniform. “P’, we’re a mess,” Bank voices.

“Showers it is.”

�� Bank nods again and switches the music on as Pitch turns out of the hospital parking. It’s quiet aside from the Scrubb CD Bank had at one point snuck into the radio of Pitch’s car. He isn’t too into the band but their sound always brings a happy sort of look onto Bank’s face, so Pitch isn’t going to fight him on it.

Pitch rolls to a stop outside Bank’s gate and looks at him, expecting him to say something like a goodbye, but Bank’s eyes are glued to the house itself.

“Uh, Bank?” Pitch says. “Bank.”

“Huh?” Bank blinks. “Sorry. I was going to say you can come in to eat.”

“You wanted to clean up, I thought.”

Another blink. “Oh. Yeah, I do.” Bank wordlessly gets out of the car, to Pitch’s confusion, and is halfway to the gate when he turns back around and says, “You can still come in though.”

Pitch rolls down his window, sure that he’d misheard. “What?”

“Come inside. We can shower and eat.” Bank shifts on his feet. “You’re already here, as hungry as I am.”

Pitch waits for Bank to rescind the invitation, but he just stands there waiting. So Pitch parks the car and does as he’s told.

Bank’s house is massive, though both of his parents being successful doctors lessens Pitch’s surprise on what they might afford. Pitch lives comfortably but this is sort of overwhelming, even for him. Bank being who he is, he likely puts on every light and the television to avoid being spooked when he has the place to himself. The thought has Pitch glancing at Bank, wanting to take his hand as they move for the staircase, but he refrains.

Bank’s bedroom is much neater than Pitch would have imagined. Maybe it was because Bank held no qualms about jumping drunk onto a bed that wasn’t his own, but Pitch had almost assumed that Bank’s space would be something of a disaster.

“The floor’s usually a disaster so it’s lucky I cleaned up yesterday,” Bank reads his mind, digging around the dresser.

The room is decorated sparingly, the majority of it confined to the wall behind the bed, floor to ceiling covered in posters ranging from popular anime to bands Pitch couldn’t begin to guess the names of. Scrubb has made a home in here too; there’s one poster that has its members for some reason holding vegetables? Pitch shakes his head, resigned to just not ask.

“Here, P’.” Pitch turns to find Bank offering pajamas his way. “It’s just a long sleeve and shorts. We can run the laundry and clean up your stuff.”

“Thanks,” Pitch says.

“Mm. You can use my bathroom; I’ll shower in my parents’.” Bank disappears into the hall, leaving Pitch on his own. With time to himself he takes in the room some more. It even smells clean, and like Bank. There’s a small grey sofa and more than one bookshelf besides, each littered with action figures, comics, and textbooks. Pitch can just picture Bank reading on the sofa, or complaining about something or other to Sky at the desk.

Pitch probably shouldn’t be as oddly giddy as he is to just be standing here, but he can’t help it. Even the bathroom makes Pitch smile; it smells of Bank’s soap, and there’s his infamous hair gel.

Pitch spots his own reflection grinning stupidly in the mirror and Pitch coughs, looking away. If he doesn’t move a little faster, Bank is going to walk in to find him still standing here like a weirdo. He’d probably laugh and mortify Pitch, and that notion is enough to get him in the shower pronto.

When he comes out, Bank is on the sofa, head bent as he types away on his phone. The shirt he’d been planning to wear is abandoned on the cushion, like he’d gotten distracted halfway through dressing. Pitch grins and tiptoes up to the sofa.

“The return of Ticklish Godzilla — ” he begins with a grumble in his voice, but he has time only to finish the sentence before Bank is yanking Pitch onto the sofa by his neck like a rag doll. He flips over with a, “Oi!” to land neatly in Bank’s lap, the air knocked from his lungs at the sneak attack. He must be smiling like an idiot regardless.

“Vanquished,” Bank says, digging his fingers into Pitch’s sides in retaliation.

“Don’t — ” Pitch squirms out of Bank’s grasp and jumps to his feet. “Don’t even try it.”

Bank shakes his head, grinning, and with distance between them Pitch takes in Bank’s damp, loose hair. His lack of a shirt is also sinking in, which has Pitch’s skin itching even though this isn’t the first time he’s seen Bank damp and shirtless this month. He clears his throat again.

“Are you good to eat?” he asks, wincing immediately at himself, but Bank just nods happily.

“I ordered pizza,” he says, then frowns. “Unless you want something else. I can — ”

“Pizza’s fine.”

“Okay.” He tugs his shirt on as they go down the hallway, much of Pitch’s efforts pointed at not looking at the muscle of Bank’s back or arms.

“I just messaged the girls about Sun. They’ll go tomorrow to visit too.”

“Sure,” Pitch says. “I think I’ll head home after we eat, by the way. We could use some sleep.”

Bank hesitates for just a second at the top of the stairs, then says, “I have every Lord of the Rings movie; have you seen them?”

“I mean — I’ve seen some of the first.”

Bank looks at him with wide eyes. “Seriously?” he demands, and Pitch is sort of worried he’s about to be cursed out. “That’s awesome! We can watch them tonight!”

“Uh, aren’t they, like, pretty long?”

Bank shrugs noncommittally but otherwise gives no answer as he bounds down the stairs like a hyperactive puppy.

Two pizzas and a lot of soda later, Pitch is about ready to pass out. Bank seems to have more energy than ever though, so much so that Pitch doesn’t think even Ticklish Godzilla can save him now.

“Hey, Bank,” he starts.

“Sh!” Bank hisses. He takes these things incredibly seriously, Pitch has found. He hates when people talk during shows or movies, these times being some of the few that Bank wants total silence.

“Bank,” Pitch tries again anyway.

“P’!” Bank whines.

Pitch pauses the movie on another speech given by a character he doesn’t know the name of and gives Bank a look.

“It’s past 11,” he says. “I need to get home; I’m bone tired.”

“But we haven’t finished it yet.”

“I know, but — ”

“And we still have two left.”

“How long are these, exactly?” Pitch asks for another time.

“Well, they’re the extended versions so they’re…” He trails off into a mumble.

“What was that?”

“About four hours,” Bank says louder, cheeks reddening.

“In total?”

“Each.”

Pitch’s jaw slackens. “Each movie is four hours? We can’t watch them all tonight! If we have any hope of getting to the hospital before noon I can’t be awake right until we have to walk out the door, Bank.” Bank doesn’t look at him, his mouth a hard line. “We can watch them another time; I can come back — ”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to; Sky thinks they’re boring too. I don’t actually care.”

Pitch blinks slowly at the abrupt change. “Okay.”

“It’s not about the movies, P’Pitch,” Bank admits after a moment.

“What is it then?” He looks at the way Bank bites his lip, his fingers holding tightly to the hem of his shirt, and asks, “Bank, are you… okay?”

“Yeah,” Bank says, but sighs when Pitch raises his eyebrows. “Not really.”

“Bank, Sun’s going to be fine. And Sky can handle — ”

“It’s not that,” Bank cuts in. “It’s not just that. I’m… I don’t…” Pitch has no idea what could be the cause of Bank’s sudden despondence, he really doesn’t. Everything had been perfectly normal from the drive home to now, hadn’t it?

“My parents aren’t in town,” Bank says. “And my brother’s with his friends.” He doesn’t explain anything more, but Pitch can connect the dots from there. If Pitch is honest, he remembers the look on Bank’s face when they’d pulled up earlier. If Bank’s family isn’t here, Bank will have to spend the night alone, something he dislikes having to do on a good day. Compounded by their near-death at the mob’s hands, forget not wanting to sleep alone — Bank must be frightened to death that he’s in danger.

“I know those guys got arrested but what if there’s more of them, P’?” he asks quietly. “We’re the reason they got caught.”

“Bank, they aren’t going to come after you.”

Bank’s eyebrows come together like he’s confused. “P’Pitch, I’m alone for one night, but you live by yourself every night. What if they show up to torture you like they did with Sky, or…” Pitch almost can’t believe what he’s hearing. Bank is scared for Pitch’s life, not his own. This stupid, selfless kid.

“Bank,” Pitch starts again, too aware of the fondness in his voice, “that won’t happen. They wouldn’t get past me and my bat anyway.”

“I’m not kidding around.”

At Bank’s deadly glare, Pitch clears his throat and wipes any trace of jest from his face. “I know,” he says. “But I really don’t think we have to worry.”

“You’re right — ” Bank agrees.

“Good, I — ”

“ — because you’re staying here with me.” Pitch stares at Bank, but he doesn’t look to be joking yet. “I don’t want to be on my own and I don’t want you to be either,” Bank says, matter-of-fact. “So stay.”

Pitch knows better than to argue with Bank, so he doesn’t.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll… stay.”

The tension melts from Bank’s face, a grin emerging like the sun from clouds, and Pitch can’t help smiling too. Bank goes to grab the remote, and Pitch’s smile drops. He can’t do eight more hours of these movies tonight, not even for the guy he likes.

Pitch grabs Bank’s wrist, to his confusion. “I think we can call it for now, don’t you?” the former says.

Bank gives an embarrassed grimace, switching off the television. “Right, P’. Let’s sleep.” Once on the second floor, Bank retrieves a heavy woven blanket from the hall closet along with an extra pillow. Pitch settles them onto the sofa without a word, and Bank doesn’t comment. He leaves the room, returning shortly with a face towel and toothbrush. Pitch thanks him with a small smile that Bank returns.

Pitch has never brushed his teeth with another person, and it’s super weird, but he doesn’t hate it. If anything, it’s an excuse to sneak glances at Bank in the mirror and then make a dumb face to make Bank laugh when he’s caught.

Bank shoves his bangs off his face as he undoes the bed, blowing up a little when strands remain stubborn on his forehead. His hair is dry now but as he’s home for the night he never bothered to gel it to the usual. It hangs in his face and may even need a trim, though Pitch is well aware that Bank would be afraid to alter his signature look. Maybe Pitch will get him some sort of glittery, purposely ridiculous clip to keep his hair up at night, so it doesn’t get in his way. Bank would love it.

“Lights off?” he asks. At Bank’s nod from under his sheets, Pitch switches off the ceiling lights and heads for the sofa.

They lay in the dark for a minute, then Bank says, “Thanks for staying.” Another few moments pass. “I shouldn’t have used the movies as an excuse to keep you here. Sorry.”

“Why’re you apologising?” Pitch asks, reminiscent of their botched camping endeavour. He pauses to think of how to proceed. “What I mean is, you didn’t have to pretend, or anything. You don’t need an ‘excuse’ to want me here.”

Bank is silent, and Pitch worries that he’d accidentally said way too much. He was just trying to be honest the way Bank always likes to be. Bank is so honest that it often takes Pitch aback; not just often, but always. He isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to the way Bank just says what he means, how he feels. He cares so much about every one of them, and having never experienced such a thing before makes it easy for Pitch to believe it can’t be true. So he didn’t tell Bank how he felt at the lake, or in the tent; even now Pitch feels like he’s on far too thin ice.

But Bank walks into fights with mobsters because he doesn’t want Pitch to face them alone, so Pitch can afford to be a little braver.

“Just tell me and I’ll… I’ll stay however long you need, whyever you need,” he promises, eyes on the ceiling, heart rabbiting in his chest.

Pitch is about to hope Bank fell asleep and heard none of that when Bank says, “Can… can you sleep here?” Pitch’s eyebrows furrow, but Bank clarifies, “Up here, with me.”

Pitch doesn’t dare take a breath, giving Bank a chance to change his mind. But just as the other times today, he simply waits for Pitch to answer.

Pitch gets up from the sofa instead of speaking. Bank scoots over to make room and Pitch settles the pillow at the headboard before laying down himself. He’s holding his breath still, even while he drapes the woven blanket over himself and Bank too.

Bank turns onto his side to look at Pitch, so he does the same. His heart has yet to slow down but he does it. The last time they’d slept close like this had been the volunteer trip, and it had ended with their backs to each other, Bank’s outline frigid and small. He’s curled up again, but his face is relaxed, arms held to his chest. He looks soft in the dark, without edges, and for an overwhelming second Pitch is furious with himself over how he’d handled that night in the tent.

Bank had slept with the belief that he’d done something wrong, that Pitch was somehow unhappy with him. Pitch knows now how he feels, and tried to explain as much to Bank those couple nights ago, but… All he can say is that he never wants Bank to question how he feels for him ever again. For God’s sake, Pitch finds the smell of Bank’s soap endearing.

If he’d gone home, he would have never slept tonight, the entire time likely spent thinking about Bank and if he’s okay on his own. How is it Bank seems to always know what Pitch needs before he knows it himself? Or maybe they just need the same thing.

Pitch puts a hand on Bank’s waist, a ghost of a touch, and Bank opens his eyes just a little. He must be exhausted, even worse after having acted energetic the past however many hours, so he doesn’t say anything. He just shuffles closer to Pitch until he can hide bundled up in his arms. Pitch exhales.

“I need you too,” he admits against Bank’s hair, and because he can’t help being cheeky, “Are you satisfied with that answer?”

Sleepy, Bank tilts his head up with a quirked eyebrow and smirk. “Mm.” He gives a soft kiss to Pitch’s jaw, just because Bank knows it will devastate him. “This spot is better.” With that, he returns to his snug place against Pitch’s chest.

If Pitch weren’t already half asleep, Godzilla would be having serious revenge right now.

“G’night, P’Pitch,” Bank murmurs through a baby yawn.

Pitch settles for holding Bank as close as he can, which is a damn good deal.

#I HAD TO TBH #another unsolicited fic <3 #faiza i hope u like this :// bc ily and them #pitchbank #golden blood #pitch x bank #thai drama #thai bl #fics #ao3 #archive of our own #mlm #my writing

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cherry-lipbalm · 4 years ago

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a son of a bitch in a camper van. spencer reid.

3.9k words.

masterlist

the gif’s a bit blurry yet he’s still endearing x

in which things happen just like that.

Local law enforcement, accompanied by the BAU, have been sitting in a besieging of this goddamn camper van for so long now that the majority of them were highly considering setting up a tent. If it hadn't been already, it sure as hell was scraping up to be a long night.

Spencer couldn't feel his feet, and he had given up on aiming his gun at the RV a long time ago. The sheriffs had been handing out fold-up chairs for those who were observing any potential activity and hadn't resorted to lounging in their cars.

Morgan had offered his to Spencer, who took it gratefully after he got up from falling on his ass when Derek pulled it out from under him. Spencer was only just about to jump on him when they spotted Hotch's glare from over his shoulder. This is a crime scene they could practically hear him say, so Spencer settled for a harsh shove on his colleague's arm and they left it at that.

And that was probably the most exciting thing to have happened over the course of this man-watch; and that was... three hours ago, now? Time, at this point, had become unsubstantial.

"Are we sure he's even still in there?" Morgan asked, gesturing to the derelict camper van a few yards away from them. He had retrieved another chair, and was sat behind the barricade of police cars, but nonetheless held tightly onto the gun resting in his lap.

"I think so," Spencer squinted over the red and blues, assessing the vehicle. If you could even call it that; the thing was basically crumbling to pieces. As much as he believed it, he couldn't comprehend how someone was actually in there, and for so long. It looked uninhabitable.

"The whole thing’s surrounded," a new voice interjected into the conversation, "he went in, and hasn't come out. Detectives say they can see him walking about now and then."

Morgan and Reid both turned in their chairs. If the dire situation surrounding them wasn't so obvious, one could have easily believed they were on a fishing trip of some sorts, except one should know that Morgan had already taken Spencer fishing once, and the result was... eventful, to say the least. A trip to the ER and five stitches later, Reid vowed to never do anything with Morgan ever again.

"Hey, sugar. How you holdin' up?" Morgan greeted, relaxing back into his not-so-relaxing chair.

Y/N sighed, a guttural groan emitting from the exudation of her breath. She looked up to the sky, and was thankful that at least they had a pretty night to look at, because this guy was not moving any time soon.

Reid and Morgan both assessed her as she stepped out from behind their set-up, coming out of the shadows almost menacingly, into the light of police sirens and the distant lamp beaming from inside the camper van.

"I'd be holding up a lot better if this bastard did something," she said. Her feet crunched the soil as she grabbed a spare chair and planted it next to Spencer. He tried to resist the urge to pull back her chair. Emphasis on the word tried.

When Y/N's bum didn't connect with the seat, the realisation hit her too late and all she could do was let out a yell while she headed straight for the ground.

"Oh, you dick!" She cried when she plummeted into the grass. Looking at her mud-ridden hands in disgust, she didn't hesitate to wipe it on Spencer's beloved dress shirt, making sure to taint his sweater vest too.

"Hey! Hey!" He retracted frantically, shoving himself into the side of his chair to get away from Y/N and her hands that could deposit any more Earth onto him. All the while, Morgan laughed his head off, almost facing the same fate as Y/N when his chair leaned back from his laughing fit.

"Children," Hotch called, reprimanding them over Y/N's grimaces and the boys' amusement, which quickly ended when they saw the Unit Chief striding over.

"Did you see that, Hotch? That's harassment in the workplace!"

"Can I please remind you that we are on a crime scene. We are the FBI, and no doubt are going to make a lasting impression on local law enforcement, is this really how you want to be remembered?"

The three fell into sullen expressions, bowing their heads ashamedly as to not make eye contact with him. But Morgan was still snickering subtly behind his hand, and Spencer was biting down on his lip to avoid a sudden burst of laughter that he knew would be more than inevitable while they were being scolded due to the pseudobulbar effect; he'd explain it to them when they were no longer being rebuked.

Eventually Hotch did walk away, leaving them with a castigating glare Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to shake. In response, she took the subsequent silence as an opportunity to slap Spencer on the arm, hard.

"Ow!" He hushed, immediately rubbing his bicep where he was sure a bruise would be forming. If he wasn't aching he would be impressed that she managed to inflict so much pain from so low down.

"Nice one, you got me in trouble with Hotch!" She hissed. Derek had resumed laughing.

"Sorry, teacher's pet," Spencer called her. Then, whispered here we go to himself at what he had just unavoidably instigated.

"Coming from you?" Morgan and Y/L/N said simultaneously, a snark tone to their words. He pursed his lips and looked to them blankly, rolling his eyes at their unified laughter.

They all eased a bit after that, despite the wake of Hotch's wrath. Spencer pulled Y/N up from the ground, and then began to aid her in wiping the soil from her trousers, prompting an awkward encounter when he realised his hand was right on her ass. She gave him a glare, and he raised his muddy hands in surrender while he sat back down, leaving her to do it herself.

When she was somewhat clean, she dragged her chair back and sat in it, pointing a warning finger in Spencer's face as she did so to let him know not to try anything sneaky.

When she relaxed, Y/N thought the scenery was quite nice; get rid of the police cars, black SUVs and the serial killer less than ten metres away from them and it could make for an ideal holiday destination. All they needed was a couple of beers and a bonfire.

Ah, fire. Warmth! Y/N was beginning to forget what it felt like. She wrapped herself further into the complimentary FBI jacket she'd been given upon her arrival to the team. It made for cool recognition, and got her into a lot of places, but, god, did it do fuck all for practical thermal purposes.

"You're cold?" Spencer queried when he noticed her enveloping her arms around herself.

"Freezing," she replied.

"You should go in the car. Emily put the heating on in there earlier, it'll be warm now."

"What? And leave all the fun for you guys? Over my dead body," she turned her head to shoot him a smirk. He inhaled deeply, faltering a smile in her direction and let a comfortable silence fall between them. Y/N even painted on a genuine grin for him, and let the blush she felt warm her up from the cold.

The next few minutes after this go very quickly, but from what Y/N can barely grasp, it goes like this: the camper van's door is thrown open, and out comes this beast of a man who, if he had them, would have had guns blazing. This is evident from his demeanour; the word beast did not originate from his physique, no, he is a fragile, small boy, but the way he is yelling and screaming is nothing of the juvenile sort. And so, he is doing his yelling and screaming and, frankly, taking no prisoners.

All he has on him is a revolver, but it's enough for every police officer and agent to swing into action. Spencer and Morgan's chairs both fall to the ground upon the abruptness of how they suddenly stand, guns drawn. Y/N is already one step ahead of them, and fails to shield herself from their unsub behind any car door like everyone else had the sense to; even if he were without weapons, they were facing the human embodiment of the word danger.

Spencer shouts at Y/N to defend herself, but she pretends she doesn't hear because this bastard made her wait four hours in the freezing cold, the least she could do was have an eye on him, so Spencer takes her cover.

Which turns out to be the fault in this story, because Spencer loves Y/N. And anyone with a pair of eyes can see it and, unfortunately for them, their unsub happened to have a pair of eyes.

He sees the way this pipe cleaner of a man is aiming his gun at him so determinedly, and how his gaze is switching between him and this girl in a frivolous FBI jacket. And he's already blissfully aware that there's no way he is getting out of here alive, but if he is going down then he's sure as hell taking someone with him. He only has one bullet and figures it's a 2 for 1 deal judging by the way pipe-cleaner man is so obviously in love with shitty-jacket girl. And then next thing anyone knows is Y/N is on the ground again but this time a bullet has buried itself in her chest.

Spencer takes the shot, and then a few more even though their unsub has fallen to the ground. And as much as he wants to rush over to Y/N he knows he doesn't have the emotional capacity to see what state she is in, but what he does have is rage, and a whole lot of it, so he just keeps on shooting. He's already dead but that doesn't matter. He keeps shooting until his barrel is empty and Hotch is pulling him away.

A detective approaches the unsub, even though his fate is more than assured, while a flurry of people surround Y/N, falling to her side, but she's only asking for one.

"Spencer," she utters. It hurts for her to talk or even breathe but she knows the pain will only continue so she pays the small price of adding to it in order to make sure Spencer is by her side for the remainder of it all.

Morgan grabs the boy, shakes him from his trance and then pushes him through the crowd so he can kneel beside Y/N. The squelching noise of his trousers drenching in her blood almost makes him vomit, but he swallows it down for Y/N's sake. He already covered her in mud, he knows better than to be sick on her too.

"Y/N," his voice trembles, but the way he turns to shout at the people around him is so full of strength and fury that people jump immediately into action. He yells for an ambulance, even though there's already one on scene and it's just behind them, but what else can he do?

"I'm fine," Y/N manages, "I'm fine."

She was not, indeed, fine.

She tries to scramble to her feet, but finds she can't even attempt sitting up without a pain searing throughout her whole body, ripping her nerves apart like resolute Velcro.

"It's alright," Spencer says, panicked as he tries to keep her from hurting herself. He brushes the blood-stained hair from her face but regrets it when he sees how it's contorted in pain. Thankfully, she soon relaxes, until he realises that's not a good thing at all.

"No, no, Y/N, stay with me alright? Can you do that? Listen to me!"

So he's yelling at the girl he loves, which is no use because she can't hear him and her eyes are already closed. He's so desperate that he pushes her eyelids open himself, but what lies underneath is unresponsive. He holds his hand tightly over what pulse she has left.

Y/N is dying in Spencer's arms. And she can't help but think that if she was to go, she wouldn't mind it to be here and now. But, with what lingering conscious remains, she realises it wouldn't be her who would have to face the repercussions of her death, it would be her friends. Her family. Spencer.

Spencer who had done nothing but love her ferociously ever since they had met; silently and from afar, but passionately nonetheless. She loved him too correspondingly and too much to kill him with the grief.

So she takes a breath.

But he doesn't even have a chance to say goodbye, never mind ask to go in the back of the ambulance with her when she is ripped from his grasp and placed onto the gurney. The ambulance doors slam close and he forgets what it feels like to move. Morgan's hand on his shoulder feels foreign, and when he does eventually move, it's a surge of chaos.

Their unsub isn't receiving any medical attention, because Reid sorted that out irrefutably, so there's really not that many people around and Morgan isn't even fully aware to stop him when Spencer steals his gun from his holster and marches to the corpse lying in the grass. Surrounded by the greenery, the son of a bitch looks almost peaceful so, when Spencer is unloading the bullets on him, he makes sure to add a few in his face for good measure.

This time, no one stops him.

———

"How is she?" JJ asks, who's only just arrived at the hospital in a hurry after receiving the call. She's pretty tenacious considering the situation, especially when you compare her to the ball of pink and panic standing next to her.

"Is she alright? Oh, God, please let her be alright," Garcia utters. She's straight in Derek's arms, who's been crying but to no one's acknowledgement because they all decided they need to be strong, for Y/N's sake. Still, it doesn't stop JJ shedding a few tears from moment to moment.

"She's in surgery," is all Hotch says, because it's all he knows. One minute he was scolding her to get off the ground and the next he was begging her to.

JJ takes a seat immediately next to Emily, and they unanimously clutch onto each other's hands. Opposite them, Morgan and Garcia do the same. It is here that JJ realises the person who should probably be in the company of his friends the most, isn't.

"Where's Spence?"

"Bathroom," Morgan tells her. "He's been in there a while. Won't talk to anyone."

So when Spencer does come out, almost on cue a few seconds later, everyone stands up attentively and tries to decide whether they will ignore his red eyes. They do, and Spencer sits down in a chair next to Morgan. He virtually collapses into his side.

Morgan is reminded of their fishing trip turned ER trip a few months prior. From the way Spencer is resting dependently on his shoulder, the days are identical, except this time Spencer's pain isn't physical and can't be fixed with five stitches.

Everyone looks at Spencer with evident pity, so he burrows himself further into Morgan's t-shirt. When Derek feels the wet indication of tears, he stands up with an arm wrapped around his shoulders and says "let's take a walk".

Spencer doesn't want to, but he's already reached the grieving stage and his body and mind are no longer connected. The only way in which they are associated is that Spencer's mind is mush and his limbs are moving so similarly sluggishly that Morgan is verging on dragging him along the hallways.

Just when Spencer is thinking that Morgan has really just brought him to aimlessly wander the corridors, his friend stops him and holds onto his shoulders. He notices how he has to look away for a moment because he never really managed to register just how bloodshot his eyes were.

"Listen here, pretty boy. You got a girl in there who is fighting for her life. She is, without a doubt, scared, okay? So you need to be strong for her and for yourself, alright? And when she pulls through, because she will, you've gotta take that strength, and you've gotta use it," Morgan said. He was prodding a finger to Spencer's chest to try and get his message across, but he had no idea what that message entailed.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you gotta get your girl, man," his shoulders dropped.

Spencer's face portrays a small smile like he always does when he's hopeless, and his mutterings are almost drowned out by the incessant beeping of hospital machinery, but Morgan catches them.

"What if I don't get a chance to?"

They're interrupted then, much to Morgan's gratitude, because he really didn't know how he was going to respond to that.

Hotch is at the end of the hallway, his chest rising quickly in a pant. Spencer fears the worst.

"She's out."

And suddenly, nothing else matters. Not to Spencer, at least. He shoots off down the hallway like a rock in a catapult; so quickly that Morgan doesn't even ascertain his disappearance until the news has sunk in and he's chasing after him too.

He keeps thinking that. Nothing else matters, nothing else matters. He repeats the mantra in his head while he meanders frantically through the halls; he lost sight of Hotch a while ago when he raced past him and now he's realised he doesn't even know where Y/N is. Nothing else matters he justifies when he bumps into a nurse during his frenzy and doesn't have the time nor consideration to apologise.

When he reaches a small empty square, with four hallways sprouting from it, he cradles his hands behind his head and tries to control his breathing; something he's forgotten how to do correctly. He steps forward, hoping his feet will just know where to go.

Somehow, they do.

He's only taken one step, but when he advances into the hallway to his right, he hears someone breathe his name; it's weak, and feeble, but he'd know her voice anywhere.

His mouth is already agape when he looks over. The door is wide open, just like his eyes with a mixture of hope and fear-stricken astonishment. Inside the room the team is crowded around the bed, looking down on the fragile agent.

Just like before, he forgets what it feels like to move. His feet are stuck in place and even though his mind is racing there is no telling his limbs to do... anything. So, for now, he just peers into the room. Y/N's eyes are begging him to enter but he can't bring himself to do it. If he walks in that means it's real. The heart monitor, the bandages, the dried blood coating her neck that the nurses missed in their clean up: it's all real.

"Reid, trust me. This is a hell of a better ending, okay? This is the one you want," Morgan clasps his hand down on Spencer's shoulder, hissing to him to try and spark some kind of unlikely reaction, but to no avail. Spencer didn't even realise Morgan and Hotch had caught up to him.

He enviously watches them enter the room with such ease. They kiss Y/N's cheek and hug her close. Morgan leans his hands on the end of the hospital bed and tries to talk to her, but she's only looking at Spencer with betrayal in her eyes.

Before Spencer can whisper a futile apology and rush out of the hospital, his brain almost goes into override, suddenly providing him with all the reasons he should do anything but that.

He sees Y/N's face, the way she smiled at him before. The way she's always smiled at him. He hears her laughter, feels her touch. He feels the warmth he experiences whenever she is near. And suddenly, again, nothing else matters.

Nothing but you.

Hotch instinctively lets a hand hover over his holster due to the precipitous manner Spencer barges into the room with. The sole of his shoes squeak against the floor in his hurry and Y/N would grimace if she had the space to because next thing she knows Spencer's lips are on hers and his hands are encasing her face in a way that doesn't make her feel claustrophobic like she always thought it would.

She can't help but think how embarrassing it is that her coworkers are watching this scene unfold —her boss too, and she knows he'll probably be obliged to give them some talk about appropriate behaviour between colleagues, but she doesn't care. Nothing else matters but Spencer.

He doesn't stop there, Spencer wants to kiss her more and Y/N is more than happy to allow it. Her fingers can only fondle the wrinkle of his shirt because it hurts to much to raise her arms, but Spencer is practically lying on top of her and she can get a good feel of his torso through the clothing. His warmth radiates onto her and she hums happily against his lips. When he begins to pull away, she grabs onto his tie and doesn't let him.

She thinks a few of the team have turned around, because it's eerily silent except for a few sniggers from —who she assumed— Morgan, and excited squeals from —who she knew was— Garcia.

When Spencer pulled away, successfully this time, he let out a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he croaked.

"For what?"

"I should have covered you."

"Shut up. From what I've heard you covered me pretty well," she said, and Spencer knew she had been told about his vengeful face-shooting incident. He bowed his head, and smiled weakly when Y/N pulled him back up from his tie. It became less weak when she pecked his lips.

"I'm okay," she whispered to him, like they were the only ones in the room, "we're okay. He's gonna rot for it."

Spencer nodded, and what he couldn't say in words he made up for in affection: his kisses were short, but none lacked the passion that was necessary to tell her how he felt. She felt every one of his kisses throughout her body. Where her chest ached with the pain of being shot now burned with a feverish love for Spencer.

"I, uh, I am going to have to hold a seminar on fraternisation next week," Hotch leaned forward to interject, which worked a treat in eliciting the laughter needed to brighten the mood.

Those that had turned swirled back on their heels and beamed at the new couple. Spencer sat on the edge of Y/N's bed, his hands encased around hers and resting on his lap. They exchanged assuring glances momentarily within the soft conversations of the team.

When Y/N looked up to Spencer again she smiled, and he knew she was thinking the same thing as himself: these people matter, and you, you matter the most.

fin.

#spencer reid gifset #spencer reid #dr Spencer reid #dr reid #Spencer Walter reid #dr Spencer Walter reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #Spencer reid fanfic #Spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid imagines #Spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid one shot

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discoscoob · 4 years ago

Text

Reset | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

Loki and the Doctor answer a distress call, while Donna explains the reason for Loki’s sudden cruelty towards you.

Part Thirteen | Part Fifteen | Chapter Index

Words: 5.7k

Warnings: death and angst

Read on AO3

Loki and the Doctor returned to the TARDIS in solemn silence, as he suspected, Loki didn’t find you in the control room, he knew you would be hiding deep within the TARDIS by now and that Donna was likely trying to find you. He was certainly it would be a few days, at least, before he would see you again, before he had to see the pain on your face and know he was the one who was responsible for it.

You would resent him now and Loki didn’t even know if you would give him an opportunity to explain, but even if you did, how could you ever trust him again after the things he said to you? Loki felt hopeless, the only silver lining was the fact you were still alive and he reminded himself that he did the right thing.

“Loki, I’m sorry.” The Doctor sensitively approached him, “it was the only way-”

“Yeah,” Loki cut him off and the Doctor could tell he didn’t wish to talk about it, or about anything for that matter, so he let himself fall silent as he focused on piloting his ship.

Loki, who usually stood with proud posture and walked with confidence in each step, hung his head, slumped his shoulders, with them curved forward slightly, and dragged his feet as he began to make his way out of the control room to find somewhere to wallow in self pity, but the TARDIS had other ideas.

The lights of the control room switched to a dangerous red, that told you immediately something was wrong, but if that wasn’t enough, a repetitive bleeping echoed through the room. Loki suddenly became alert as he turned on the spot and looked back at the Doctor who was already working furiously at the ships console.

“What is that?” Loki demanded to know as he joined the Doctor’s side by the console.

“A distress call.” The Doctor answered while he squinted at the monitor, instead of putting on his reading glasses.

Loki’s interest spiked, he realised a distraction might be exactly what he needed to keep his mind from running over the cruel things he had said to you as you wept at his feet.

“Are you answering it?” Loki asked.

“Of course,” The Doctor nodded, as if that should’ve been obvious before he glanced up at Loki. “Wanna come along?”

“I have nothing better to do.” Loki nonchalantly shrugged.

“Buckle up.” The Doctor told him as he slammed down the handbrake.

***

You were lying on the floor of the dome observatory, curled up between the scattered cushions and blankets Loki had conjured for the makeshift bed you would often share whenever the pair of you came here. The more time the pair of you had spent together here, the more it felt like the space belonged to the both of you, it had always been peaceful here and you were never disturbed. It seemed natural to you that this was the first place you decided to come to seek safety and comfort.

Loki’s scent still lingered upon the soft furnishings which surrounded you like a nest, you couldn’t tell if you found it comforting or if it made your stomach churn with nausea, perhaps a bit of both. You hugged one of the cushions close to your chest and snuggled your body tightly around it as you unashamedly let your sobs rack through your body, which caused your back and shoulders to shake from the uncontrollable cries.

Your tears were cooling as they dripped from your jaw and travelled down the line of your neck, soaking the bedding around you, but you didn’t care. You were in agony, it genuinely felt as though your heart had been torn apart from the inside out and it was left bleeding in your chest just as rapidly as the tears flowed from your eyes, which were red and puffy by now. A dull headache had begun to form at your temples, from the toll your continuous weeping had taken on your body and your eyelids were becoming heavier as you welcomed sleep with open arms, but you didn’t get the chance.

You reduced your sobs to quiet sniffles when you heard the sealed door slide open before sliding back shut. Your eyes widened immediately and your weak and damaged heart nervously quickened it’s beat as for just a moment you had thought it was Loki who had come to see you. You weren’t sure if you were more glad or disheartened when you heard their footsteps and instantly recognised them as your aunties.

You gulped before you attempted to speak, hoping your crying and the tightness of your throat hadn’t put too much of a strain on your voice.

“If you have come to say ‘I told you so’ you can leave.” You croakily told her, without even bothering to turn around.

“Quite the opposite, actually.” Donna softly explained as she welcomed herself to sit down beside you.

You wanted to ask what she meant by that, but you didn’t have the energy, so you stared off at the breathtaking sight before you, despite the fact that all the stars and colours blurred together from the moisture that gathered in your eyes and slightly impaired your vision, hoping that she would elaborate without prompting.

“What a gorgeous view.” Donna observed instead, “I never even knew this part of the TARDIS existed.”

“Loki showed it to me.” You quietly told her, your voice was tired and saying his name caused your heart to clench.

“So this is where you two would disappear to when you were avoiding me?” She teased like everything was still normal, which only caused memories to rapidly flash through your mind like quickly flicking through the pages of an old photo album. You couldn’t stop yourself before you were crying again, you curled yourself tighter around the cushion, squashing it between your thighs and the front of your chest as you rested your forehead against the top of your knees and buried your face into the soft cushion, literally turning yourself into a ball. You felt your auntie rest her hand on your shuddering back as she gently began to stroke it in a circular pattern in an attempt to sooth you.

“I came here to tell you I was wrong.” Donna finally admitted, it shocked you so much, it acted like a sudden slap in the face as it immediately interrupted your sobs.

You raised your face from the cushion and lifted your head at an angle that said a pain shooting through your neck, which you ignored, to look at your auntie for the first time since she entered the room.

“About Loki.” She quickly added, as if it needed any clarification.

You ignored the ache in your head as you forced yourself into a sitting position, at first your head spun from how abruptly you moved, so you cradled your forehead in your palm for a moment before you focused your attention back on Donna and narrowed your eyes at her.

“Get out.” You harshly told her as you pointed towards the door, when she failed to move, due to the fact she was stunned motionless by your abrupt change in behaviour, you shoved roughly at her shoulder which caused her to gasp in both shock and pain.

“Haven’t you done enough, already?” You yelled at her, while she recoiled with wide eyes, completely thrown off guard by your outburst. “You think you can trick me again? Manipulate me into forgiving you, just so you can wipe the slate clean and start another twisted game?”

“What?” Donna hesitantly asked, afraid you had lost your mind since you weren’t making any sense.

“Goddammit, Loki, just drop the act!” You demanded with an exhausted sigh and Donna finally realised what you thought was going on as she sympathetically pulled her bows together and leaned back towards you.

Donna recalled how Loki had shifted into his female form at the temple in Pompeii, she hadn’t realised he could shift into other the forms of other people as well, but from your reaction, it didn’t take long for her to figure out that you had thought she was Loki disguised as herself.

“Hun, it’s me. It’s Donna.” She gently told you which caused you to finally pause as she put her hand on your forearm and stroked her thumb back and forth.

She had used the term of endearment which she most often called you and you couldn’t recall a time where which she had used it in front of Loki and he never called you ‘hun’ which made you pause in consideration as you squinted your eyes at your auntie.

“I’m sorry,” you eventually slumped with a sigh, as you brought your fingers up to your forehead to smooth out your crossed brows, the pulsating headache still dully shot through your skull. “I thought you were Loki, he can shift into the forms of other people.” You explained and Donna nodded with understanding.

“It’s okay.” She assured you.

“But... but why are you defending him?” You finally asked, “you’re not exactly his biggest fan.”

Donna tilted her head and pursed her lips to the side, the patience and empathy in her eyes made you feel at ease.

“Do you recall what happened?” She asked you first, to get an idea of your understanding of what had happened, because she knew you were smart and suspected that there must have been something blocking you from making the connection between the monster preying on your faith, specifically your faith in Loki, and him suddenly destroying it.

“The beast had started coming for me...” you drew your brows together as you concentrated on playing the memories back in your mind, “I was frightened and it was attracted by my fear, but Loki was there and I knew he would keep me safe but... I... I was wrong.”

You couldn’t see the confusion that was evident on Donna’s face as you were looking down at your hands which you were fidgeting with on top of your lap.

“Do you remember how the beast was defeated?” She asked you.

“I didn’t see,” you shook your head, “I was too upset. I just... I just assumed the Doctor had figured out how to stop it.”

She wondered how you had managed to get it so wrong, you hadn’t suffered any head injury that might have distorted your memories but then it hit her that something else would have distorted your mind, the beast had been inside it.

She recalled how you had told Loki it was changing you and your thoughts and realised that it must have made you forget that faith was what it fed on, and instead made you believe it was fear, in order to make you cling on tighter to your faith in Loki, despite how hard he was trying to break it.

“Sweetheart, the beast fed on faith,” she reminded you, “it was your faith in Loki that it wanted, he had to destroy it to save your life.” Donna explained to you as she gently brushed some of your hair away from your face, once you had lowered your head in thought.

“He didn’t mean anything he said, I could see how much it broke his heart to say those things to you.” Donna continued, “he really cares about you. It’s genuine and special and I was wrong.”

It was hazy at first but the fog the beast had left in your mind started to clear and your memories slotted back together, you realised how out of the blue it was for Loki to suddenly start being cruel to you and how at the exact moment he completely shattered your heart, the beast was defeated.

The realisation hit you like a slap in the face as you sat up straight and let your jaw fall slack, you suddenly had the urge to find Loki immediately and tell him you understood what he had done and fix everything, but before you could rise to your feet, you felt tremors beneath you as the whole ship began to quiver. The view beyond the dome vanished into array of colourful lights which the TARDIS travelled through like a current, the colours reflected on your face like a rainbow as you watched with wide eyed wonder, until the TARDIS came to an abrupt stop and the dome was plunged into darkness.

***

Loki and the Doctor cautiously stepped out of the TARDIS into the corridor of the space ship, which had given out the distress call, with wide eyes as they vigilantly glanced all around them, since they had no idea what to expect. But apart from some broken wires, which hung loose from the ceiling and occasional spat out sparks of electricity, it was empty and eerily silent. The pair made sure to steer clear of the broken wires as they made their way further down the dark and abandoned corridor, which was littered debris and abandoned belongings, while smoke and dust filled the air around them.

They followed the trail of destruction in silence, both wondering if they were too late, but they soon found out that they weren’t alone.

“Hear me and rejoice.” A voice called from the distance, beckoning them towards it. “You have had the privilege of being saved by the Great Titan.”

Loki abruptly halted in his tracks, the Doctor walked a few steps ahead before he realised he could no longer hear Loki’s footsteps behind him and looked over his shoulder, to find him bracing himself against the wall with a pale and vacant look on his face.

“You may think this is suffering.” the voice continued.

“Loki, are you all right?” The Doctor asked.

“No.” The voice said, “it is salvation.”

Loki blinked rapidly and determination took over his features before he stood straight and looked beyond the Doctor as he continued towards the voice which echoed through the wrecked ship, while the Doctor followed after him, whisper yelling his name along the way.

When Loki reached the centre of the ship, he saw the height of the destruction, the fires, the bodies of his people scattered around the floor as Thanos’ henchmen, Ebony Maw, stepped between them reciting his speech while Thanos himself, stood at the head of the ship, clad in gold armour.

He swallowed heavily at the devastation Thanos had brought upon his people, before he found a shadowed corner to hide in, behind a broken piece of wall as he watched on unnoticed. The Doctor joined his side just as Ebony Maw walked past a man who turned his head into the light, which revealed his features to both Loki and the Doctor.

“Is that you?” The Doctor whispered.

Loki nodded but his lips remained tightly sealed and the Doctor suddenly yanked on his arm, abruptly turning Loki to face him.

“You can’t be here, you can’t go back on your own timeline, the consequences could be catastrophic.” The Doctor warned him with a low tone. “We need to leave.”

“No.” Loki stopped him, “this isn’t my past, it’s not even my future. It... it’s... complicated.”

“Believe me, I know all too well about complicated, wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff. Try me.” The Doctor told him and Loki looked at him with furrowed brows.

“That purple brute other there,” Loki nodded his head towards the mighty titan and the Doctor glanced over and acknowledged him with a nod. “His name is Thanos and he is searching for all six infinity stones. I suspect he succeeds because five years from now, Earths ‘mightiest heroes,’” Loki brought both his hands up to make air quotation marks, which caused the Doctor to pull a face which Loki paid no attention to as he continued. “Go on a mission back in time to gather the infinity stones themselves, in order to reverse his snap which erased half the population of the entire universe. Of course, as you would expect, they messed up because I got my hands on the tesseract and diverged from the timeline, I mean, I didn’t know they needed it to save the universe.”

The Doctor cleared his throat in order to remind Loki that he was also diverging from the original point he was trying to explain.

“The point is, this isn’t my future anymore, not since I broke the original timeline.” Loki finally explained. “I’m a ‘cosmic mistake.’ That is why I shouldn’t exist.” He added to himself, more quietly.

“How do you know all that?” The Doctor asked.

“The TVA showed me.” Loki shrugged.

Suddenly Thor’s cries of pain caused Loki and the Doctor to once again peek over the wall they were hidden behind.

“That’s your brother!” The Doctor instantly recognised him from when he had saw him in the alleyway in New York.

Thanos was holding him down on his knees with his head clenched in his large hand as he held one of the infinity stones against his temple, torturing him.

“All right, stop!” Original Loki yielded and Thanos immediately removed the stone from against Thor’s temple, but still held the top of his head in the palm of his oversized hand.

“We don’t have the tesseract.” Thor said, his voice was exhausted and hoarse and he was panting heavily from the torture which Thanos made him endure. “It was destroyed on Asgard.”

Loki and the Doctor watched with bated breath as original Loki slowly began to raise his arm and a bright light appeared in his palm as he conjured a blue cube and he lowered his head to avoid his brothers gaze.

“You really are the worst brother.” Thor sighed through his heavy breaths.

“I assure you, brother, the sun will shine on us again.” Original Loki told Thor as he stepped towards Thanos and held out the tesseract.

Loki ducked back down and rested his back against the broken wall, the Doctor followed him and observed him as he seemed to be lost in thought.

“Loki...” The Doctor whispered, in an attempt to prompt him to share his thoughts.

“I die here.” Loki simply muttered, without lifting his eyes to the Doctors.

“What?”

“I die here.” Loki repeated, as he finally looked up to the Doctor, “but what if I changed that? What if... what if I took his place?”

“Loki, you can’t.” The Doctor immediately discouraged him.

“What else is there for me?” Loki argued. “I only had one thing worth living for and I broke her heart.”

“And you think dying will fix it?” The Doctor asked Loki, trying to make him see sense.

“No, but maybe he can.” Loki gestured to the Loki who stood beyond the broken wall they crouched behind. “What good am I for her? I am living a life on the run, you said it yourself, that’s not freedom.”

The Doctor recalled saying that to Loki during his first night on the TARDIS when they shared a conversation in the control room. He couldn’t believe how far they had come since. He still believed what he said was true, but now he had grown closer to Loki, it was harder to admit it, while Loki, who had originally disagreed with him, was the one repeating it back to him. They had come full circle.

The Doctor was just about to open his mouth to reply when a large, roaring, green beast came hurtling towards them, Loki quickly dived for cover and pushed the Doctor down with him as he did, just in time for the beast to leap straight over them.

“What the hell was that?!” The Doctor whisper yelled.

Loki didn’t stop to answer before he was climbing off the Doctor and stealthily scrambling through the ship to steal himself away, during the commotion.

Loki fought back against himself when he felt a strong arm slide around his waist and a large hand clamp over his mouth, usually he was able to use his strength and tactics to protect himself in situations like this, however this time he was struggling to get free, due to the fact it was himself he was trying to escape from, he had met his match but Loki hadn’t realised that, since his other self had grabbed him from behind. Once Loki had managed to drag himself over to a secluded corner, he let him out of his hold and the pair of them finally made eye contact.

Original Loki immediately freaked out and conjured a dagger before he shoved Loki into a wall and held it against his throat in the blink of an eye. The Doctor, who had watched the whole thing from where he was hid, quickly scurried over to the identical pair before they killed one another.

“Not quite the reaction I was expecting but, then again, I can’t say I’m surprised.” The Loki with a knife to his throat said as he raised his hands by his sides to show he wasn’t a threat.

“Who are you?” Loki demanded lowly which caused the Loki before him pulled his face back and give him a look.

“Come on, you and I both know you’re smarter than that.” Loki told him, which caused him to squint but he didn’t remove the dagger from below his jaw just yet.

“Loki–” The Doctor tried to interject, but the pair of them sent him an identical deadly glare and he immediately sealed his lips.

“There is no other like me, I am the one and only.” Loki told himself.

“My existence says otherwise.” Loki replied to himself with a shrug, “look, this has been nice but you’re wasting time...”

Before the Loki with the dagger could react, his other self raised his palm to his forehead and transferred all the knowledge he needed, which caused his eyes to roll into the back of his head as the dagger fell from his limp hand and his body became weak from the force of another’s thoughts, experiences and memories invading his mind. Once Loki retracted his hand from his skull, the original Loki dropped to the floor unconscious.

***

You called out for Loki and the Doctor as you and Donna rushed into the control room in search of them, only to find no one was there. The pair of you shared a look before you walked around separate sides of the console to reach the exit, you were the first to push the narrow wooden door of the TARDIS open and you immediately felt unsettled as you were greeted by the sight of the wrecked and abandoned corridor of what appeared to be a space ship, filled with smoke, debris and lose broken wires hanging from the ceiling.

Donna peeked over your shoulder, from where you stood in the doorway, at the carnage before the both of you, and although you couldn’t see it, her face mirrored yours as her features filled with worry and dread.

“What on earth are they doing here?” Donna wondered out loud, as you cautiously stepped forward and she slid out of the TARDIS after you and gently pulled the door shut behind her.

Your wide eyes wandered over every inch of the corridor which you could see and you quietly travelled down it, with your auntie in toe, carefully stepping over the bits of rubble. The pair of you yelped and jumped out of the way when one of the wires you were passing by, spat out some sparks of electricity towards you.

If that didn’t surprise the both of you enough already, the monstrous roar which echoed through the ship surely did as you clung to one another in shock.

“Those nitwits are going to get themselves killed.” Donna fretted as you both ran in the direction of where the roaring came from, unprepared for what might await you, but determined to save the God and the Time Lord from whatever situation they had got themselves in.

The first thing that caught your attention when you finally reached the heart of the ship was the green beast attacking the man you recognised as Thanos and you immediately put your arm out to halt Donna to ensure the both of you remained unnoticed in the shadows.

Your heart had threatened to leap straight out your throat as soon as you laid your eyes on the raisin resembling titan as a million worries raced through your mind at once. Your concern only heightened when you saw the hundreds of bodies that were scattered across the floor, you instantly knew the all lost their lives to the hands of Thanos and you sent a silent prayer that Loki wasn’t one of them as your eyes desperately searched for his familiar face.

“Oh my god,” you tensed when you heard Donna gasp, “that’s Loki’s brother!” She whispered to you as she pointed towards a man, who looked worse for wear, from what you could see, he was the polar opposite of his adoptive brother in appearance, with short blond hair which contrasted Loki’s long black locks.

“Wait- how do you know Loki’s brother?” You whispered back as you began to move further into the room, keeping in the shadows.

“We met him in New York while you were unconscious... did we never mention it?” Donna told you and you shook your head over your shoulder as you gave her a disappointed look that wasn’t too serious.

You quickly shushed Donna, despite the fact she wasn’t speaking, when you heard some hushed voices coming from behind some broken pieces of wall.

“Look, this has been nice but you’re wasting time...” You would recognise that voice anywhere and you immediately rushed towards it.

You were surprised when you saw a replica of Loki collapse to the floor before your Loki, while the Doctor stood beside him. Loki whispered your name as soon as he saw you.

“What are you doing here?” He asked you.

“Looking for you!” You harshly whispered back, he recoiled from your tone as you made your way towards him over all the debris, until you were finally stood in front of him.

“I... I’m sorry, I know what I said to you is unforgivable but please listen to me, you can’t be here. You have to leave.” Loki urgently whispered to you but you shook your head.

“No, Loki, I know why you did it, Donna explained everything.” You assured him as you brought your hand up to his which was limp by his side and he glanced over your shoulder towards your auntie with an unreadable look.

“She did?” He asked with disbelief as his eyes remained on Donna and she offered him a small apologetic smile with a nod. While you took a second to glance down at the Loki on the floor at your feet before you peaked back over the wall towards Thanos, who was beginning to overpower the green beast and your heart sank with realisation as fresh tears began to rise to your already puffy eyes and you grabbed a tight hold of Loki’s shirt as you stepped closer to him.

“Loki, please tell me you’re not about to do what I think you’re about to do.” You whispered lowly to him and the way he avoided your eyes gave you the answer you didn’t want to hear.

“Loki, don’t you dare!” You made your voice sound as assertive as it possibly could but it still trembled due to the lump in your throat, which was making it difficult to breathe, as sheer panic ignited in your racing heart. “Listen to me, if this is because you thought I might be upset or mad at you, I’m not, I promise. I understand why you had to say those things. You were saving me. I know you didn’t mean any of it. You don’t have to do this. Just come back to the TARDIS with me, yeah?” You pleaded with him, but he just kept his head down as his own eyes became misty.

You placed both your hands on the sides of his face to force him to look at you and your heart shattered all over again when you saw the hopeless look on his face.

“You’re better off without me.” Loki told you and you rapidly shook your head but he continued. “I’m on the run, I can’t keep dragging you along with me forever, constantly looking over my shoulder. You deserve a better life than that.”

“I’d follow you forever.” You promised him and he smiled sadly at that as he let out his own sob and brought your hand up to his wet lips to kiss the back of it.

“Take care of him for me, okay.” Loki told you as he nodded to the version of himself that was lying unconscious at your feet.

“I don’t want him, I want you!” You stubbornly told him.

“He is the better version of me.” Loki continued trying to persuade you.

“You’re the best version of you. Loki, I... I love you.” You finally admitted to him.

“What?” Loki choked looking at you in disbelief.

“I love you.” You repeated with more determination, you didn’t care what his response was, you just desperately needed him to know.

Loki stared at you with his mouth agape for a moment, it was as if you were both in your own bubble, completely oblivious to the chaos around you as you both stared into each other’s watery eyes.

“I love you too.” Loki confessed and he could barely finish his sentence before you were crashing your lips into his, the kiss was sloppy and tasted salty as your tears slipped past each other’s lips, but neither of you cared.

“Then please don’t do this.” You begged him once you parted.

“I need to save my brother,” he gestured to Thor, who was now being restrained as debris from the wreckage coiled around his body, “and you need to save him,” he gestured to the Loki at your feet, “I’m not supposed to exist. Everything will be as it should.”

You swallowed hard realising that there was no turning back from this and it became all the more real when with a green shimmer, Loki was suddenly dressed in the same clothes and cape as the unconscious Loki was wearing, even the same marks of dirt appeared on his face and his hair grew a little longer. He was his mirror image. The fact you knew exactly what was going to happen next made it all the more heart wrenching as you threw your arms around his shoulders and held onto him as tight as you could, certain that if you simply refused to let him go, he would give in and come back to the TARDIS with you.

Your shoulders shook with the force of your cries as you hid your face into the crook of Loki’s neck and you felt his arms curl around your waist just as tightly as he buried his face into the crown of your head. You were sure you felt his own chest tremble against yours with his own sobs which left a constricting feeling around your heart.

The Doctor peaked over the wall and watched Thanos add the second infinity stone to his golden gauntlet and he looked back towards the both of you.

“Loki...” He called his attention.

You sniffled as you pulled back from Loki and nudged the tip of your nose against the back of your sleeve. Loki glanced over to where Ebony Maw knelt before Thanos before he looked back at you.

“This isn’t the end for me, it’s just a reset.” Loki assured you. “The Avengers will return to 2012 and I will escape with the tesseract and embark on this journey again.”

“You will be trapped in an infinite loop?”

“I will spend the rest of eternity reliving the happiness moments of my life, with someone I love and who loves me in return.” Loki corrected you and you couldn’t help the smile that broke through your sobs, lighting up your face like the sun peeking through a pair of storm clouds.

“You need to go.” Loki said more solemnly when he realised he was running out of time, he could bare to look at the way your face dropped so he closed his eyes and left a final lingering kiss on your forehead before he wordlessly turned to make his way out of the shadows. You had automatically taken a step forward to follow him but your aunties hand on your shoulder stopped you from going any further.

You felt numb as she encouraged you to move, you allowed her to guide you without any struggling but she was the only reason your legs were moving at all, as you refused to take your eyes off the spot where Loki disappeared.

“If I might interject. If you’re going to Earth, you might want a guide. I do have a bit of experience in that arena.” You heard Loki voice as you kept to the shadows and Donna encouraged you to continue putting one foot in front of the other.

You were grateful for the fact your auntie was guiding you because everything looked smudged and out of focus due to your tears obscuring your vision.

Once you made it back to the TARDIS, Donna held the door open for the Doctor to carry Loki through, you knew he was the same person as your Loki but when you looked at him, it felt like looking at a stranger and you couldn’t help the faint burn of resentment that ignited within you when you looked upon him, knowing your Loki had sacrificed his life to take his place and offer him a second chance.

Without a care for what the Doctor did with Loki, you made a beeline straight through the control room, ignoring Donna as she called after you as you rushed as quickly as you could to your bedroom and locked the door behind you.

You didn’t even manage to make it to your bed before your legs gave way beneath you and you succumbed to your grief as it ripped through your chest and the agony of your loss constricted around your heart like barbed wire.

You sat on your bottom and hugged your arms around your legs, which were bent and pulled flush to your chest, and you buried your face into the top of your knees. As your last moments with your Loki played on a constant loop behind your eyes, until the memories faded into a dream as sleep took over.

#loki #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki imagine #loki marvel #loki series #thor #doctor who #tenth doctor #10th doctor #donna noble #tom hiddelson

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writingsfromhome · 4 years ago

Text

Nuclear Family III

Part 3: Family Meals

A/N: This one gets a little bit more complicated for Y/N, feelings are definitely involved. Thank you everyone for reading/liking/reblogging/commenting!!! <3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

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

The next day goes by without incident. Harry takes Charlie to the park as I stay home and catch up on missed work. Around 3 in the afternoon, with the sun shining brightly, I leave the flat with an itch in my leg. I'd spent too long indoors. I text Harry saying that I was stepping out.

"Y/N?" Someone calls as I'm about to leave the building. I spot a familiar face and shout out in excitement.

"Marc! I forgot you lived in the same building oh my god!"

"I knew you were in London but I wondered why you never callled...you're living with Harry?" He asks tentatively.

"Yeah," I laugh awkwardly. "Mixup with the air bnb my first day, so we're all here. It's great though, a little hectic but great. Charlie loves it."

"I bet she does," he grins. I forgot he was so handsome. The thing with Marc and I was, we were friends but ever since he came down to LA last year we sort of redefined our friendship to include a few perks. But it worked with us, we only saw each other once in a blue moon. And we were chronically single-me being too busy with being a mother and Marc too busy because directing a magazine meant no time for relationships. So because we got along so well, and we enjoyed the time we spent. We decided to live a little and do something risky. It paid off.

"You should come over some time! Charlie would love to see you too, she still talks about the day we went to Disneyland." Marc crashed at my place last year and Charlie took to him immediately. Maybe because he had the same accent her dad had.

"Maybe I will...and maybe you and I could catch up too sometime if you're free..."

"I'm free now, Marc," I laugh at his attempt to sound discrete. Staying at Harry's, it might get complicated if I invite Marc over. At least until after Charlie's birthday. There were too many things going on until then.

Marc joins me for a bite and by the time I get home Harry and Charlie are home and playing with a new toy she'd gotten. I watch fondly and feel a sense of relief. Charlie loved her time here and that was all I needed to see. A big concern staying with Harry was confusing Charlie where we stood but we were all good so far.

The next couple days go smoothly too. Harry goes out some evenings with his girlfriend and spends most of the days with Charlie, unless he's working. Charlie and I see a play and visit some old friends and we settle into London quicker than expected.

"Are you busy tomorrow evening?" Harry asks that morning.

"I was just going to make dinner at home, big day on Sunday." I take my reading glasses off to focus on Harry.

"My family was thinking of coming tomorrow."

The statement lands with a thud on my chest.

"Oh. Well...I'm sure Charlie will be glad to meet them!"

"You've got to be there. Please Y/N? They're staying for Charlie's birthday on Sunday."

"I..." I glance at Charlie who's curled on the sofa with her stuffed animal. I'd have to see them either way now that I was living here. "Alright. I'll be there."

"Perfect," Harry reaches out to squeeze my hand and I have to remind myself not to jerk it away.

Yes-the last few days have been well. Logistically. But emotionally, I was just as confused and angry at feeling that way. Harry went on dates with his girlfriend but during breakfasts we shared, his gaze would linger. His hand would brush mine, as he showed me something funny on his phone. Or when Charlie forced us to sit with her and play with her stuffed toys, he would make up silly scenes that forced us to be closer. The vibes between us felt tense sometimes and other times it felt like I could lean over and kiss him and the three years apart would disappear.

"I'll let them know." Harry continues about settling the date. "It works perfectly because Gemma was suggesting tomorrow too, and Miranda's free too."

"Miranda?" I ask. Had I heard correctly?

"Yeah. She's got to fly out Sunday for a shoot next week so I won't be seeing her all week. Tomorrow works."

"Miranda's coming to the family dinner?" I ask again, my voice sounding hollow to me. Was Harry an absolute idiot?

"Yeah! My whole family knows her-she's been around for my mum's birthday and Christmas."

Harry really was an idiot. He didn't notice my tone of voice or how ridiculous that was.

"I'm quite tired," I close my laptop screen. "We'll talk later?"

"Yeah." Harry pauses, picking up on my abrupt excuse. "I'll-yeah..."

I don't let him finish. I head to my room and toss my laptop onto the bed, combing my hand through my hair and sighing. I had to stop getting worked up about Harry and Miranda. They were a gorgeous couple and there was no way Harry still wanted me. He was only this nice to me because of the daughter we shared-there were no other feelings involved. I think about inviting Marc, but decide it's too petty. This was about Charlie and maybe I really should just get serious about finding other living accommodations.

***

Charlie sits in front of the TV as I get ready for dinner. The nerves in my stomach are more knotted than a pair of headphones in a handbag. I smooth down my green blouse and look down at my slacks. Maybe I should wear a dress; I looked like I was going to a meeting.

"You look nice," Harry's voice comes from the open doorway.

"I don't look like I'm going to give my first big corporate presentation?" I ask. He shakes his head but I watch his eyes skim over the outfit. He bites his lip to keep from laughing. "Ugh! I knew it. I have to change!"

"No you don't," Harry says, catching my arm on the way out. "You look great in anything."

I roll my eyes, "I know I look great in anything, but I'm having a dinner and I need to find something more appropriate!"

Harry chuckles but follows me back to my room where I toss through the closet. "It's just my family, they don't care what you look like."

"It's not that simple,” I rant, untying the knot around my neck. Why did I even bring this top? “I can’t just throw anything on and call it a night! I have to feel good in it too!”

He steps into the room and tracks my frantic movements from closet to dresser to suitcase. He stops me on my second round to the closet and takes the blouse out of my hands to hold them. "I think you’ll look great in anything, pick something and get on. Just tell your nerves to fuck off.”

“Harry!” I scold, I didn’t want Charlie hearing or she wouldn’t stop saying it.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, a small smile on his face displaying his dimples.

Noticing it, I’m suddenly aware of how we’re standing together. His hands still hold mine, and when I look into his eyes, they’re watching me. This. This is what I meant. Everything was fine living together, but Harry’s gaze, every time I caught it, it would be on me. And it was a heavy gaze. He always seemed like he was deep in thought yet noticing every little detail about me, conflicted, but thoughtful. It usually made me feel self-conscious.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” I give it a shot.

“What?”

“You got so serious,” I try again. “What are you thinking about.”

“You want to know?” Harry seems surprised, which surprises me. Why wouldn’t I want to know what he was thinking about? I nod, and he lets go of my hands. “I was just thinking about you giving a presentation in that outfit, I would-ouch!”

Harry rubs his shoulder where I’d pushed him. I cross my arms, “That’s what you get for making fun-”

“I wasn’t making fun!” Harry swears. “I was trying to say, what I wouldn’t give to sit in on that presentation.”

Heat rushes to my face, I look away from Harry back to my closet. This was too much. "Okay. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'll just...wear...this." I pull out a simple black dress with a pretty neckline and hold it out in front of me, as if it would stop Harry from walking over to me again. When I think he’ll stop, he continues so I take a few steps back until my back hits the closet door.

“Good choice,” he says but his eyes leave a heated trail from my untied blouse up to my lips and then my eyes that are wide in panic.

He’s incredibly close, and I’m freaking out so I nervously tell him I should get dressed. When he doesn’t back away, I lift the dress up in the little space between us. “Harry, I need to change. Are you going to watch me or give me some privacy?”

That seems to snap him out of whatever headspace he was in. He quickly backs up and the pink blush creeps into his cheeks. “I’ll be outside with Charlie.”

A part of me wished he stayed.

***

I join Charlie in front of the TV as we wait for dinner. When his family came in, it wasn't awkward at all. They greeted me like I was still part of their family, and catching up was effortless. They fawned over Charlie and she adored it. It helped Gemma brought her boyfriend (bf), I wasn't the only non-Styles here.

"Is everything alright?" I ask as my eyes scan the room and find Harry typing furiously at his phone.

"Uh yeah," he responds. "Just Miranda. Had something planned later tonight and she didn't realise dinner would be this late."

"Well your family is coming from outside of London," I say, already regretting asking in the first place.

"Yeah," Harry mumbles, still typing. I was clearly not needed there so I join Harry's mom who's trying to arrange the bouquet Gemma brought. We talk as we work, setting up the table even though Harry was throwing this. His mom waves his help away when he finally realises and he easily goes back to Charlie who's showing off all her stuffed animals.

The mood shifts when Miranda appears with her bottle of wine and a suitcase. I try to ignore the sting I feel when he pulls her into an embrace and takes the bottle from her, I try not to compare myself to her. To the way Harry acts with her, and with me in private. I try not to think about what it meant, and try to focus on the dinner instead.

Harry's family remains just as nice, but the problem is it goes from having a family dinner for Charlie's sake to hosting a dinner. It's only when everyone is busy with their glass of wine that Gemma leans into me and says, "I told the idiot not to invite his girlfriend to a family thing but he said there was nothing wrong with that."

"He told me pretty last minute," I respond.

"Don't get me wrong-she's lovely, but it just makes something like this awkward."

"I'm alright," I lie through my teeth.

"Sure," Gemma winks at me before her attention is pulled away by her bf. At least there was one Styles that understood me without me having to say.

•••

"I'm starting school in September," Charlie informs the table halfway through dinner.

"You're growing up so fast," Harry's mum smiles at Charlie.

"That's a big step," Miranda comments and as much as I hated to admit it-she wasn't so bad with Charlie. She made a solid effort and Charlie responded well to her. She was her boyfriend's daughter though, and she usually avoided speaking to me unless Harry was involve, but I was okay with that.

"Then I'll be five next year!" Charlie continues. I explain to the table how obsessed she was with turning five.

"Because that's when she gets to drink coffee right darling?" Harry nudges Charlie and she grins.

"Coffee!" She shouts and we all laugh but as she soaks in the attention she begins shouting it louder.

"Charlotte," I warn. She glances at me and then looks back at her plate.

"She's just excited we're all here," Gemma comments. "Isn't that right Ms. Y/L/N?"

Charlie beams at being called by her last name, like a teacher would.

"Has she not taken on your last name?" Miranda suddenly asks Harry and it goes silent at the table except for Charlie's humming.

"Uh no," Harry scratches his neck. The rest of the dinner table busies themselves in their food.

"She's always lived with me," I clarify, trying to sweep away the sudden awkwardness. The awkwardness comes from how Harry and I broke up because he didn't know what to do with himself when he realised he was having a baby. There was no way he was ever raising her alone. Not at first anyway, that was when I insisted she keep my last name. "So it makes sense."

Miranda glances between us but bf breaks the silence. "Gemma wants our kids to have her last name, I said hyphenating it wouldn't be too bad."

"It gets too confusing," Gemma says. "Styles is a nice, simple, last name."

"Always in Style," Harry exclaims at the same time I say something similar. We laugh which confuses Charlie enough to tug on my sleeve. She asks for more mashed potatoes and I give them to her. Soon after, Harry's mum brings out the dessert she brought and we all enjoy it with more wine. As the night nears, Gemma and her bf stay behind with Miranda. When Charlie begins cuddling into me on the couch, I put her to sleep, but she whines when I leave so I tell the group I was calling it a night and wash up while Charlie stands with me as I wash my face. She was being unusually clingy but I figure all the attention and new interactions were exciting but also exhausting for her. She just wanted her mum and that warms my heart.

"Did you want anything before you put her to bed?" Harry pops his head in as I'm tucking Charlie's toys around her.

"I'm alright," I smile. "Tonight was nice. Thanks for putting it all together."

"Thanks for staying," Harry moves into the room and kisses the top of our kid's head. I remember the other night when he did the same to me. "It was really nice with you, Charlotte, my family-it meant a lot."

"For her too," I look to our daughter who is finally settling into sleep knowing I had stayed and changed for her. "Although I'm paying the consequence being forced to sleep at 10pm."

Harry chuckles. "Best get your beauty sleep then."

"Yeah," I peel back the covers and wait for Harry to leave but he pauses with his hand on the doorknob and turns back to me.

"Tonight reminded me of old times," Harry says and I can tell he's lost in time as he smiles at the floor. "I haven't felt this happy in a while." His statement makes me sad, and when he looks up at me his expression is tinged with regret. But he forces a smile and nods. "See you tomorrow."

"Harry," I don't know what it was that makes me stop him. Maybe the way he looked at me with the unbearable sadness, or the fourth glass of wine I drank, or feeling the same immeasurable amount of happiness he did tonight. But I walk towards him and wrap my arms around his neck. I indulge myself and bury my nose in his neck and almost cry at the familiarity; the way his hands were always cold as they wrapped around me too, but warmed as they squeezed me to him. His fresh laundry smell mixed with the sandalwood perfume he favoured. Or his body and the way he engulfed me into his chest, like I could carve a home out of it and stay there again.

He sighs as he pulls me tighter, "Y/N-"

"Mom?" A tired voice asks behind me and I rip myself away from Harry to look at Charlotte. She's propped herself on her elbow and is looking between me and her dad.

Shit. Why did I do that? Why did I just make things complicated? Harry's girlfriend was right outside! Our daughter was in this room! I couldn't afford to confuse her or myself. Jesus.

"I'm coming to bed!" I walk towards her to soothe her and I hear Harry slip out of the room.

"She's having a hard time falling asleep," I hear Harry lie from the living room and my heart sinks further in my chest. If he was lying over a shared conversation, a shared hug, then something was wrong and I would have to make it extra clear tomorrow that we were nothing more than polite. Especially as it was Charlie's fourth birthday tomorrow. It had to be perfect.

•••

A small finger pokes my cheeks, "Mommy?" I had no idea what time it was but my head rings with a hangover. I hadn't drank this much in a while. I realise I wasn't having auditory hallucinations when Charlie's voice comes again. "Mom?"

"Charlie what time-" I try to crack an eye open and the clock says 6am. I groan and pull Charlie towards me, eyes still closed. "Why are you up so early birthday girl?"

"Mommy?" When Charlie doesn't respond to the mention of her birthday I know something might be wrong. I force my eyes open, Charlie stares up at me with sad baby doll eyes. My mom alarm starts ringing.

"What's the matter?" I ask, noticing the door was open. She must have woken up earlier.

She shakes her head and buries her head into my chest. I clutch her to me, unsure why she was upset. I'll ask her later, right now, I try to cheer her up.

"My baby is such a big girl now. Hey, what's the matter?"

"Does daddd love us?" She asks innocently. I'm startled by her question, so out of the blue.

"Of course he does. He loves you more than anything in the world. And I love you too. Although I would also love a bit more sleep." I tease her. She wraps her arms around my neck. "Happy birthday, Charlie. I love you."

"I love you too," she surprises me by getting under her covers; once Charlie was up, she never fell back asleep. Maybe this was a birthday miracle, but I snuggle into the warmth. Charlie's behaviour still niggles away at the back of my mind but I eventually drift off to sleep and just pray the rest of her birthday would be happier.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #harry styles fluff #writingsfromhome #sorry this one took so long to upload #this series is kind of nerve wracking #it might turn into 6 pts idk

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etheraella · 4 years ago

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𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘴, 𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕦𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕖𝕣𝕒

(James Potter x Reader x Remus Lupin)

Summary: Midnight tours, sitting on rooftops, blithe relationships and smiles full of ecstasy, (everything was perfect). Sleepless nights, pitiful eyes, bitter lies and forced promises, (until it all changed). Nothing hurts more than picking a side, especially if it’s between two people you cherish the most. So tell me, is it James or Remus?

Warnings: mentions of forced marriage, sorrow

P.S: We came across a song that describes this story perfectly right as we were about to post, and we thought it would give that final touch to the story. The lyrics will only make it’s entrance after a while. here it is

* - used for flashbacks

!! bold italics - used for lyrics !!

Made up twists:

- The public knows about the marauders being animagus’s

- The crystal ball used for Divination was found early and only the higher ups, like Dumbledore, had access to it.

- Wizards actually relied on the crystal ball considering how accurate it was

You slammed the fork on the table, annoyed as what you hoped would be a quiet meal got interrupted, causing everyone to freeze still at the abrupt noise.

“Is it really that hard for me to enjoy a meal? One meal. That’s all I’m asking for.” You eyed every single presence on the table, keeping your gaze as intimidating as possible, yet some still mumbled under their breaths and puckered their lips so their smiles would look less obvious.

“Why? Getting shy? Oh, c’mon Y/N, you and James make quite the couple and you know that. Quite probably, the whole school does.” Your eyes shifted towards Sirius, who looked at you from the side of his eye, smugly smiling with a bit of his teeth exposed.

“Open your mouth again, Padfoot, and I’ll shove my fork down your throat.” You threatened, grabbing the fork you previously slammed on the table and pointing it at him. You glared at James, who had never once done anything about the teasing from the entire school. In fact, he just feeds the people with what they want.

While your meal was disturbed, he seemed to be enjoying his. He sat slouched on his chair, with an arm resting on the one beside him, the corner of his lip was perked up as he looked at you. “Don’t look at me, it’s not my fault we got exposed.” He raised his eyebrows, assuming to be portraying the innocent one, with his hands raised up lazily while his arm was still glued onto the chair beside him.

Frustrated, you combed your hair back with your left hand, looking to your right, where Remus happened to be sitting. He gave you a small smile. You returned it.

You and James were the impeccable duo, or at least as Hogwarts thought. Well, it is quite out of the ordinary for a woman to have a male animal as an animagus, specifically, a stag; which was James’s animagus too. It was funny how James, a coarse, vile-tempered boy had a stag, an animal that indicates looking out for others and leadership roles as an animagus. It was all so strange, almost as if you were meant to be… was what they convinced themselves with. Either that, or one of you loved the other so dearly, not only their patronus followed the other person’s, but their animaguses too. However, you didn’t take any of it into account. You thought it was all inconsequential.

Besides, it wasn’t James that had caught your eye, it was Remus. Not that James was irrelevant or anything, you still loved him, but not in that way. And you didn’t want your friendship to rupture. You had more of a connection with Remus though, and you felt as if he did too. But neither of you had the courage to tell each other. Although, there were times when “friendly” wasn’t the word to describe your relationship.

“Move!”

You dreaded these kinds of days; the days Hogwarts made their Steak and Kidney Pie. Not because they didn’t taste good, but because you’ve never reached the dining hall fast enough to pick a table where they actually served it. It was just ridiculous to you how they only serve the pies at certain tables. It almost felt as if the staff wanted to watch the students hurdle up like sheep getting chased by a sheepdog and the dining hall playing as their sheep pen.

You stretched your arms out in between the two people in front of you, making a big enough hole for you to push through.

“I’ll even swim if I have to.” You thought to yourself. It was no use, even as you went further forward through the line, the people beside you would push you more towards the wall. And once you reach the wall, it’s game over.

“Budge it.” Losing your balance as you felt a sudden push from one of the ‘sheep’, you got smacked against the wall, or so you thought was a wall.

“Well, good morning to you too.” Looking up at the low-pitched voice, you realised what you were previously slammed against wasn’t a wall, but rather someone’s rock hard torso, or more precisely, Remus’s rock hard torso. Rattled, you try backing away, trying to create space between the two of you, however the hallway was too cramped for that.

Remus slightly tilted his head to one side, making his double chin visible as he looked down at you, grinning. “Cramped places could be useful at times, don’t you think?”

“Don’t try it, Remus.” You said as you buried your face deeper into his shirt, hoping he wouldn’t notice how red you had become. But what you didn’t know was that he could feel your heartbeat fastening, being the reason for his chuckle.

“She sure is having quite the dream, isn’t she?” The sound of a pair of hands clapped together was enough to make you snap out of it. In a swift move, you sat straight on your chair. James, who was sitting in front of you was laughing hysterically.

“You could have picked a different time to daydream about the future you and James hold, you know.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Later that night, you stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. You were always the last to fall asleep out of your dormmates, probably due to the continuous night tours around Hogwarts with the rest of the marauders. There was no way you would have a normal sleep schedule now.

Suddenly, you heard what seemed to be a knocking coming from the window. Looking towards the sound, you spotted a familiar owl pecking the moonlit glass window. You smiled to yourself, fully aware of what was happening. Hopping off the bed, flinching once your feet came in contact with the cold floor, you slowly opened the door, hoping not to wake your dormmates up. There stood James, a grin plastered across his face. “Hogsmeade tour?”

You smiled from ear to ear, all too familiarly.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You and James found yourselves sitting on the roof of a random shop located somewhere in the middle of Hogsmeade after a walk around what felt like the whole of the village, until you started to feel pain in your legs. You yawned, finally feeling a hint of tiredness in your eyes as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Tired already?” Unable to open your mouth, you just hum in response. “Another round, perhaps?” Lifting your right hand up, you slightly nudged his head to the opposing side with your index and middle finger, causing him to let out a short giggle followed by a kiss on your forehead.

“G’night, Y/N.” He rested his head on yours as he drifted to sleep along with you.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You woke up to James screaming. “Get up! We’re late!” Still half-asleep, you let out a lazy groan as he continued screaming in your ear. “If you don’t get up now, I’m pushing you off this roof.”

“Shut up.” You mumbled a quick response in hope of James to stop talking.

“Get. Up.” Letting out a loud sigh, you lazily shook the sleep off your body and stood up. “How late are we, exactly?” You asked, your voice still a little croaky.

“They’re probably having lunch by this time.” Your eyes widen, almost as if they were about to pop out. “Damnit, James! You couldn’t have woken up a little earlier?” Cussing under your breath, you jumped off the roof and started running towards the school, James laughing to himself, following behind you after grabbing his jacket.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You two just stood there, your hands behind your backs.

“I swear, it’s not what it looks like.” Looking at the two of you, anyone would have easily misunderstood. How your hair was all messed up, along with James’s, your clothes wrinkled and only returning to the school the next morning. As the students walked by, they stole glances and exchanged giggles. Even at a time like this, where you and James were accused of scandalous behavior, James seemed to be doing nothing about it. It has always been you who had to solve misunderstandings.

You nudged James with your elbow, signaling for him to do something with your eyes. To no surprise, he just frowned and shrugged. Professor McGonagall, on the other hand seemed unamused, with her arms crossed.

Clearing her throat, she finally spoke. “Be that as it may, professor Dumbledore is expecting you. Both, Of you.” And with that, she walked away, leaving you and James exchanging looks with each other.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Ah, yes. Please, sit.” Dumbledore was standing behind his desk, admiring a crystal ball which was placed neatly on it. While on your way to Dumbledore to take a seat, he unanticipatedly posed a question.

“So, what are your thoughts on marriage?” Finally looking up from the crystal ball, he looked up at the two of you, with a small smile.

“Pardon?”

“You two are romantically involved, are you not?” You were taken aback by the professor’s sudden straightforwardness.

“No.”

“Yes.”

You shot your head at James, who did the same. Whilst you and James were busy arguing under your breaths, Dumbledore approached the two of you. “Well, it would be nice if that was the case, seeing that you two have a probability of ending the war.”

You shifted your attention to Dumbledore, curiosity filling your head as you wondered what he meant by ‘ending the war’. “End the war?”

“Precisely,” While Dumbledore was walking back to his desk, you and James followed behind him. “You see, being an old man has its own perks as well. Whilst being locked inside this room with nowhere to go, my mind has been pondering.”

Fascinated by the topic Dumbledore had bestowed upon you, you sat down, your gaze still fixed on the headmaster. “It is unquestionably impossible for a female to possess a male animagus, yet somehow you accomplished it.” He turned his back around to look at you. “If it’s not a deep connection that mirrored each of your animagus’s, which surely it must not be, it must be the power you hold. With the both of you combined, surely Voldemort won’t have a chance against you, or your children.”

“Children?!” You almost screamed. Once realising how loud you had been, you sniffed and fixed your position back on your chair.

“I am aware of how sudden this all seems, however at times like this, I’m afraid not everyone has a choice. But of course, we will not take any risks. Therefore, to determine the success percentage of my proposal, we will be using, this.” He held the crystal ball he was previously admiring in his hands, as delicately as possible. “Divination?” James interfered, his tone smooth.

“Correct, James. We will be announcing the marriage publicly with the purpose of having everyone believe it being true. At which point, this crystal ball will analyse and interpret a wizard’s surroundings by logical thinking and sensibility of mind and body in comparison to Arithmancy, which focuses on calculating probabilities, magnitude, strength and effectiveness of magical forces in general, including properties of numbers and their application, which will be used to foresee a glimpse of the future. If perhaps, there is no sight of the victory of Voldemort, be it in love or not, this marriage is compulsory for the safety of the wizarding world.”

With no words to say, you were forced to carry all the pressure that was caused by what you thought was a miracle; having a powerful animagus. You were forced to pick a side.

“What if it still shows Voldermort’s victory?”

Dumbledore sighed before slumping down on his chair. “Then, I’m afraid my proposal was hopeless. And the marriage would be called off, publicly. I would have to yet again, sit here and… ponder.”

You sat there, thinking about both the possibilities. Although there were positive sides to both situations, the only thing that circled your head was the negative effects; what would happen to you and Remus?

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Your mind was still lingering in the headmasters office that you almost bumped into a wall. Fortunately, James was there to stop you.

“Does it really bother you that much?” He looked at you, his hand grasped onto your arm from when he stopped you from hitting your head onto the wall.

“This is about marriage, James! No, it’s about reproducing!” You looked at him, wide-eyed, seeing as he seemed all too unfazed by all this.

“Well, it’s not as bad when you really think about it. You could be ending up with Snape for all you know!” He laughed hysterically at his own line, whilst you blankly stared at him, unbelievably. “How could he be joking around at a time like this?” You thought.

You’ve been avoiding Remus since yesterday; when the news was announced. You were too afraid he would be disappointed in you; that you didn’t have the courage to do anything about it. You didn’t want to hurt Remus, but neither did you want to hurt the rest of the wizarding community. You decided that your decision would be made once you see what the crystal ball portrays.

“Run along, you too! We don’t have all day!” Your thoughts were interrupted by professor McGonagall who pushed you and James into the headmasters office. She didn’t know that your marriage was a part of a strategy. Dumbledore suggested she shouldn’t know so that she could be the one controlling the crystal ball, in order for the crystal ball to be analysing the professors surroundings; someone who wasn’t aware that it was all a part of a scheme.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Well? What do you see?” James pushed, forcing a quick answer.

“If you want to know so bad, why don’t you just look?” You glared at James from the small hole you made in between your fingers which were covering your face. You were too anxious of looking into the ball; you were scared of the outcome. James must’ve felt the same way, since he was also covering his eyes.

There was silence for a while. Nobody said a word. Dumbledore and professor McGonagall exchanged looks before putting the crystal ball away and facing the two of you. Before speaking, Dumbledore cleared his throat, which caused the two of you to turn your backs and face him.

“It seems as though the marriage will come to a great outcome. My proposition was well-built indeed.” He smiled, seemingly pleased with his way of thinking. Meanwhile you, on the other hand, were thinking about how on earth you were supposed to face Remus now.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The moon had already made it’s entrance as you were still seated on some rocks near the Whomping Willow, with the waning gibbus moon and the forbidden forest in your range of view. You had completely lost your sense of time due to the messy state your mind was in. It was so quiet, even the sound of your stomach rumbling caused you to jump.

“Hungry?” You looked to your right, Remus was looking back at you with a softened gaze. You forced a smile before switching your gaze back to the forest, Remus making his way to seat himself beside you.

“Have you ever imagined life on the other side, Remus? You know, behind the forest and it’s deadly creatures.” You pointed the word deadly out in a sarcastic manner as you thought life inside the forest wasn’t as dangerous as people thought it was.

“Sunshine and rainbows?” He smiled, only the higher points of his face visible as the moon shone on them. “I’m serious.” You frowned, his smile growing bigger.

“What do you say we find out?” he raised an eyebrow.

“What about the deadly creatures?”

“Hey, I’m here for you.” He nudged you back with his shoulder a little too aggressively, causing you to almost fall on your side if he didn’t catch you. “Steady on! The moon already acting up?” You teased, but he seemed to be offended.

“Y/N, my shift was yesterday.” The realisation hit you; you were too caught up with the whole scheme that you didn’t even make time to think about the one person you cherished most. “Oh, I’m sorry,”

“No, no. It’s okay. I mean, I don’t blame you. With your marriage and all.” He sighed. You closed your eyes as you realised what you had done, or more specifically, what you hadn’t done. You wanted to be the one to tell him, he deserved to hear it from your own voice. “Remus, I-“

He took a deep breath in as he stood up and straightened his uniform, giving you a small, reassuring smile.

“ Somewhere far behind The scenes Two thousand and seventeen The start of a story Rumors about you and me Talking 'bout our chemistry But no need to hurry ”

“Congrats, Y/N. I’m glad it’s with James and not someone else.” He tried letting out a laugh, which only came out as a small, forced huff. Hesitating, he walked away, as if he had more to say but he couldn’t bring himself to. You only watched as his silhouette faded. The fact that you weren’t able to stop him built the guilt inside you. It was either this or the lives of many wizards being thrown away.

It was at times like this that you wished you had gotten a different animal and not a stag as your animagus; even if it meant you had to be rotten inside.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You winced at the bright light that shone through the window. Not aware how you ended up in your dorm, you looked around you. No one was there. “Has class started already?” You thought.

You studied yourself in the mirror as you fixed your tie. You’ve always had dark circles, but this time it was the most noticeable. But things like this didn’t bother you; it couldn’t. Not with all the bigger burdens you had to carry. You shook your head, giving yourself the idea of the weight being brushed off your body.

As soon as you opened the door to leave, a conversation was already being held in front of you. “Yeah, he got caught shifting the night before the last. He’s been hiding in the Shrieking Shack this entire time! Can you believe it?”

“What?! I mean, I’ve always thought Remus was weird, but I really didn’t think that far! So what’s going to happen to him now? I don’t want to be in the same building with that freak!”

“Trust me, nobody does. They’re having a meeting with some of the student’s parents, regarding his stay at Hogwarts. I wish he gets—"

As much as you wanted to fight back to the two good-for-nothing gossipers, you couldn’t waste the very little amount of time you had left. You would have been an idiot if you didn’t try to speak for him now. After everything else you hurt him with, it was only right for you to take action as a loyal friend, no, as someone who loves him.

Your mind was too occupied with thinking about what would happen to Remus if he got kicked out that you didn’t feel the pain in your stomach and legs as you ran with all your might. The wind harshly hitting your face as you ran, and your tie loosening. You couldn’t let him get expelled; not for something he didn’t ask for, not for something he couldn’t control.

“ 'Cause I will light up Your heaven tonight Light up your whole world Just for you ”

Your running came into an abrupt halt when James reached out for your arm. Worry filling his expression. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You looked at him, breathing heavily as you snatched your arm away. “Remus needs me.” Seeing as you were about to rush away again, James placed his hand back on your arm, pulling you to face him.

“Tell me what’s happening. Why does Remus need you? What’s going on?” You studied him before combing your hair back with your left hand. “Someone caught him. Shifting. Yesterday. He’s going to get expelled if I don’t do something about it. He’s not a freak! He doesn’t hurt anyone!” Your shaky voice raising with every word you said, tears filling your eyes as you thought about what would happen if you don’t get there in time, huffing in between your sentences.

James stood there, examining your face, not able to find the right words to say. You sighed, “Let me go. I need to do something.” Trying to push his hand off your arm with your left hand, he only tightened his grip.

“Do you even know where he is? Do you even know where to go? Y/N, are you just gonna go running around the whole castle? With an empty stomach? Do you have any idea how you look right now?! You look like you just got up from your grave, Y/N! You would collapse before even seeing him!”

He paused, before taking a deep breath, followed by you. “Look, he’s going to be okay. Who do you think he is? A weak, fragile little boy? All we can do right now is be there for him when he gets out. Listen to me, It’s gonna be okay, alright?” His tone softening as he lifted your chin up with his folded index finger and looked into your eyes with raised eyebrows. You forced a tight smile and looked away.

“ Wherever you go I will follow Whenever you're low Just let me hold you Let me hold you Don't be afraid I will show you I'll make it okay Just let me hold you Let me hold you ”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Remus, and your wedding was in a few hours. You never got to see him that morning. He left without even saying goodbye. Everything was happening too fast for you to take anything in. All you knew was that you were attending a wedding that was held in the entrance of Hogwarts as a bride, and James being the partner in-crime.

A quick knock from the other side of the door was enough for you to snap out of your thoughts. “Come in.” The door slid open, James leaning against the door frame in his suit, holding a bouquet of lily flowers in his hands. You gave him a small smile; you knew this was as hard for him to handle as it was for you. You shared the same burden, the only way for you to cope was through each other.

He walked towards you, his gaze fixed onto you the entire time. Finally reaching for the chair in front of you and seating himself down, he handed you the bouquet. “You’re gorgeous.” He commented, as he studied you in a white gown, your hair tied up in a bun and features enhanced with the way you looked at him.

“The same to you, I almost drooled.” You teased, followed by him cocking an eyebrow. But his eyes soon softened as he remembered the reason why he came to you in the first place. “Y/N, I have something to tell you,” You simply looked at him, listening attentively.

He dithered, still unsure whether he should tell you or keep it to himself like he did all this while. “We were never going to stop the war.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. “What do you mean? I thought this marriage was supposed to—”

“I know, that’s what I wanted everyone to believe.” He paused, realising how much of a problem he was going to cause if he came clean, but he couldn’t keep it any longer; he had to tell someone. He took a deep breath and looked into your innocent eyes before speaking. His tone was filled with desperation.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I really am, but I lied to you. I lied to everyone. I messed with the crystal ball to make it look like we could end the war and I—”

“What? Hold on, James, what are you saying? Why would you mess with the crystal ball? What is wrong with you?!” The more you thought of it, the more it aggravated you; it didn’t make any sense, not even a single drop of anything he said made sense to you.

“Y/N, listen to me, I—”

“Were you in your right mind?! Do you have any idea what that silly prank of yours caused? Is that why you were so relaxed about all of this? Because it was one of your stupid jokes all along? And why on earth are you telling me this now?! James, what were you—”

“It wasn’t a prank!”

That was the first time you had ever seen him as exasperated as he was now. You’ve never seen this side of him. You only knew the bully, James, the prankster, James. The spoilt child, James. Seeing all this was new to you.

“It was never a joke. Do you really think I would be that narrow-minded? I wouldn’t go this far if I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have went this far, if I didn’t love you.” As he kept talking, his tone softened, as well as his expression.

Your face untensed as you looked at him. “I love you, Y/N. I always have and I still do. I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I knew if I didn’t, you would’ve left. I see the way you look at Remus, I can’t do it anymore.” You avoided eye-contact as soon as he mentioned his name. He was the reason you couldn’t say goodbye.

“Look, I’m sorry. But please,” his breathing became uneasy as he mumbled the next words. “Please don’t leave.”

“ I'm not gonna leave I'm here to stay 'Cause I ain't nobody If I ain't got you ”

You couldn’t scream at him for what he did. You couldn’t tell him off, because you knew how it felt to have someone to cherish. You knew how it felt to love and lose someone. You felt for him, and you hated it. He caused the chaos you didn’t ask for, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to get mad at him.

“We should go.” Your tone softened as you stood up, the bouquet falling off your lap and onto the floor as you did.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls,"

This was meant to be a day filled with joy and happiness. Everyone else seemed to be having the time of their lives except you, and a concerned James, who was standing before you. You examined him, your eyes landing on your joined hands with a ring wrapped on each of our right ring fingers. Who would have thought the moment you’ve always imagined as a child would end up being something you were forced into doing?

“James Potter, do you t…..”

You weren’t paying attention. The rest of his words became blurry for you. It felt as if your ears automatically filtered out the noise and all you could hear was your own thoughts.

Your eyes wandered the venue. Although this wasn’t the memorable moment you’ve always dreamed of, you knew for sure this moment was ought to hold a place in your head.

“Y/N?”

“ Baby, don't let me down ”

You shot your eyes at James, who called your name, then at the crowd. They seemed to be waiting for an answer; it was your turn to make your promise. You paused, your eyes still searching the crowd, until it stopped. And your body froze. “Remus?” you mumbled under your breath. James, following your gaze as he halted to look at him too.

He was leaning against the far behind wall, his arms crossed as he smiled at you. You didn’t expect this would be the first time you would see him after he left; at your wedding, without him being the one who joined hands with you.

“Y/N,” James whispered, causing you to look at him, then back at Remus. Your gaze shifted back and forth between James and Remus as wild thoughts were running your head.

“ Don't let me down Without you, I'm frozen Without you, I'm frozen Baby don't let me down ”

Something was screaming inside your head, and the more you listened, the more you were intrigued to catch it. Your gaze deepened into James’s eyes as you finally gave in. “Just this once,” You thought to yourself. “let me do what I want.”

You held his head in your hands, delicately, caressing his cheeks as you felt sorry for him, then placed a gentle kiss on his forehead as a tear left your eye. Pulling away, you noticed his confused eyes looking back at you. “I’m sorry.” Pulling the ring off your finger and placing it in his right hand before closing it again, you spoke. “We’ll be waiting for you.” Giving him one last smile, you turned to see Remus, his smile faded as he looked at back at you.

“ Wherever you go I will follow “

Lifting your gown up, your feet took off, your gaze still fixed on Remus as a smile plastered itself across your face.

This was the freest you felt in a long time. You deserved this, you deserved a happy ending. It felt as if the weight flew off your shoulders with the wind the more the momentum picked up as you ran. You felt your bun come loose, but you couldn’t care less. You decided to look at what was in front of you, and in front of you only. And in front of you, stood Remus. Your contagious smile now grew on Remus’s face as you grabbed his arm and pulled him with you.

“ Even if time will Fly away We will be hotter Than a flame 'Cause I ain't nobody If I ain't got you No, if I ain't got you ”

“To the forest?” His voice grew bumpy with each step he took, his eyes were fixed on you the entire time. You briefly glanced behind at him as your smile grew wider. “To the forest.”

Without hesitating, he twisted his arm away from your grip and grasped a hold of your hand, slowly intertwining your fingers as he picked up his pace, now leading the both of you towards the forbidden forest.

He shortly looked back at you, his eyes filled with ecstasy as he did.

“ Just let me hold you Let me hold you Don't be afraid I will show you ”

“I’m free,”

“I’m finally free.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Author’s Note: We are very proud to finally be able to share this project that we have been working on. Celeste has been tirelessly working on the plot, studying more about the project and writing this story, which took her 5 working days to finally accomplish. Meanwhile Luna has put in much effort into editing and polishing everything. It would mean the absolute world to us if our hard work would get noticed. Sending love and happiness to every single individual who interacts with this ♡

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flowercrown-bard · 4 years ago

Text

Poems for the Poet (1/ 5)

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Summary: Unbeknownst to Jaskier, he inspires Eskel to try his hand at writing poetry. Eskel posts his poems anonymously to notice boards, not thinking that anyone would read them. Until he hears Jaskier's songs unmistakably referencing Eskel's poetry. (Eskel’s pov of The Way to a Poet’s heart)

Word count: ~2k

AO3

Content warnings: self-consciousness, self-doubt

Eskel could have been many things. He could have been handsome. At least he remembered his mother calling him such when he had still been a boy with a wide and toothy grin that he didn’t need to hide. He could have become a mage – his hill-folk blood had practically guaranteed him a place at Ban-Ard.

And maybe, as slim a chance as there had been, he could have become a poet. He remembered his mother singing to him about hens. It had been a silly song, but when he had undergone the Trials of the Grasses, the verses had been the last thing on his lips before the melody had turned into cries as fire raced through his blood.

That day, all dreams disappeared and turned into could-have-been’s that twisted Eskel’s stomach if he ever thought about them.

They didn’t matter anymore. Eskel was a witcher. One exceptionally skilled in magic, but a witcher nonetheless.

Perhaps he had even been handsome for a little while longer, but now there was not a hint of attractiveness left on him. It didn’t bother him. Couldn’t bother him.

At the very least he still had his poetry. No, not his. He had never written a verse in his life. If he had gone to Oxenfurt instead of being dragged to Kaer Morhen, he might have learned about metre and clever word-play. Now, he didn’t dare put a pen to paper. Too certain was the chance that his words would only be yet another disappointment. He’d rather keep the wish to write a might-be instead of a dreaded could-have-been. As long as he didn’t try and fail, he could still imagine that he might be able to become a poet one day. Until then, he would study his poetry collection and listen to the bards he came across in taverns, praying that their songs wouldn’t break off once they laid eyes on him.

It happened more often than Eskel would like to admit. Many times, he found himself lingering outside a tavern, just to get the chance of listening to the songs a little longer before they inevitably faded in discomfort when the bards noticed the witcher staring at them through the windows.

He would have done so today as well, if it weren’t for the long gash in his leg. It didn’t hurt too badly and it was already close to being healed, but he yearned to sit down and close his eyes for a little while, to eat and maybe, if he was lucky, to listen to some songs.

Even from outside the tavern he could hear that the bard singing a soaring ballad was talented.

So he pulled his hood up and pushed the door open. As he shuffled to a table at the corner, he tried to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

He knew he should have kept his eyes cast down. He knew he should have kept to himself.

Yet there was something in the bard’s verses that made Eskel’s insides sing. He didn’t know the words for what he heard. Perhaps it was alliteration or anaphor? Whatever the bard had done to give his words life, it stirred something in Eskel.

He looked up before he could think better of it; before he could remember all the reasons why he shouldn’t do such a thing.

For a blessed heartbeat he was allowed to just look at the bard. There was no denying his beauty. Clearly, many people in this room looked at the bard’s blue eyes or long fingers with adoration.

Eskel noticed those things merely as an afterthought. He was too distracted by the almost wistful expression on the bard’s face, the way he subtly swayed with his music as if he was a part of it and the meaning he put into every word as it fell from his lips.

Eskel’s chest clenched at the sight. Without meaning to, he leaned forward to see better. It must have been that movement that caught the singer’s attention, for his eyes wandered over to Eskel.

And his voice broke. Blue eyes widened and fingers had to strain not to fumble.

Abruptly, Eskel looked away, pulling his hood deeper into his face to hide his eyes and turning his scarred side towards the wall for good measure.

It was already too late. All hope that the bard might not have realised exactly what Eskel was burst when the song came to an overly hurried end.

A handful of patrons muttered disapprovingly and one even gave a shout, demanding his coin back if the bard wasn’t going to play a full set.

Out of all the people, Eskel knew he was the one most disappointed in the abrupt yet not unexpected end of the performance. He would have loved to hear more of this bard’s art, to listen for long enough to figure out just how he crafted his verses.

Yet another could-have-been.

Eskel should probably leave. Maybe if he did, the bard would pick up his song again and Eskel would be able to listen to it while he put distance between himself and the tavern. His leg ached at the thought of having to get up already, but if it meant getting to hear a little more of the bard, it would have been worth it. Eskel was just about to stand up when someone pulled out the chair opposite of him and let themselves fall onto it with little grace, but palpable excitement.

Long fingers drummed onto the table as if the person’s energy couldn’t be contained. Or as if they were waiting impatiently for Eskel to leave.

“Apologies,” Eskel said, doing his best to make his voice sound smoother than it was. “I’ll leave the table to you.”

Unexpectedly, a hand shot out and grabbed Eskel’s wrist, lightly enough to make clear this person wasn’t out for a fight, but insistent enough to make Eskel tense.

“That would be defeating the purpose of me coming here, wouldn’t it?” That voice. It was the bard’s voice. Unwillingly, Eskel’s eyes snapped up and his breath hitched when they met blue. The bard’s easy smile didn’t leave him, even as he took in Eskel’s inhuman eyes and mangled face. “After all, I came here specifically to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Eskel relaxed slightly. This he could do. “Do you have a contract for me?”

The bard let out a pearling laugh that crinkled the skin around his eyes. Eskel’s chest clenched. It was rare a human laughed in his presence. No, that wasn’t quite true. People laughed constantly, though mostly at him. They would snicker blatantly when they saw his face or snort cruelly when he said something that had been meant to sound gentle and diplomatic but evidently came out as a pitiful attempt of an oafish mutant to fit in where there was no place for him.

But never before had someone other than his family laughed in a way that made him think that perhaps he wasn’t the one being laughed at.

“Well, no. Not exactly.” The bard leaned forward with an eagerness that almost made Eskel draw back. No one leaned towards a witcher. Least of all Eskel with his disfigured face and hulking frame. “I was wondering if you were willing to let a humble bard accompany you on a hunt?”

Eskel blinked at him. “I- no. I just come from a hunt.” Absentmindedly, he shifted his leg beneath the table. “And it would be too-“

“Oh, don’t tell me it would be too dangerous.” The bard let go of Eskel’s wrist and waved it through the air dismissively. “Geralt tells me that all the time and I’m not dead yet, am I?”

Eskel’s brows would have drawn together, if he hadn’t trained himself to keep frowns off his face to stop it from becoming even more fearsome.

For a heartbeat he could only stare at the bard, trying desperately to connect the few things Geralt had told him about his bard to the man sitting in front of him now. A lot of the details – annoyingly talkative, a petty menace, dangerously ready to fall in love with anyone he met – weren’t things Eskel could ascertain from such a short time of talking to the man. But what had was most important was the way Geralt had talked about his bard. There had been a fondness to even his most exasperated words. A fondness that Eskel could imagine only too well being directed at someone like this bard. In fact, as the bard’s smile grew wider with every second that Eskel studied him and something warm and fuzzy spread through Eskel’s insides, he found himself feeling some of that fondness already.

He swallowed and tried to clear his throat as inconspicuously as possible. “Are you Jaskier?”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up with delight. “Geralt mentioned me? Didn’t think he would.”

“He had little choice in the matter.” Eskel’s lips would have twitched if he hadn’t feared that would make Jaskier recoil. “Lambert and I kept teasing him about the fact that there was a song about him.”

As soon as the words left him, he froze. His eyes widened and he scrambled for words to fix his mistake. “I don’t mean that as a bad thing, of course. It’s an honour to have you sing about witchers and the way you weave stories is incredible.”

A hint of red crept into Jaskier’s face that must have been a trick of the light. “Thank you,” he said almost sheepishly, but then his face brightened into something radiant and beautiful. “Wait, you are Eskel!”

Jaskier practically bounced in his chair in his eagerness to drag it even closer to the table. “Geralt told me so much about you!”

Eskel felt his throat grow tight. Far too often had Geralt found him in the library, leaning over a book of poetry and songs written by the very same man that sat before him now. How many times had Eskel drunk a little too much White Gull and told Geralt that he admired his bard?

“He did?” He asked hoarsely.

“Of course!” Jaskier let out a carefree laugh. “He always jokes that one day he would hand me over to you because you are the only witcher that wouldn’t go insane if he had to listen to me sing all day.”

Eskel’s lips twitched, though he turned his head just quickly enough to hide his smile. “I can imagine worse things than listening to your songs.”

Jaskier tilted his head to the side and gave Eskel a look of unashamed curiosity. “Why, my dear Eskel, is that a compliment?”

Eskel shook his head and hunched his shoulders. Before he could stop himself, his hand came up to paw at his scars uncomfortably.

“It…It was supposed to be teasing. I don’t- I’m sorry, I’m not good with that.” His eyes darted away and then quickly back to Jaskier. Putting as much sincerity as he could into his voice, he added, “I would enjoy listening to you sing some more. You have a beautiful voice and your song made me feel like I could almost see the images you were conjuring up.”

For a moment Jaskier only gaped at him and Eskel cursed himself. Of course he had messed this up again already. He shouldn’t have tried to fix his own mistakes. By now he should know that nothing good would ever come out of that. A poet such as Jaskier didn’t want a witcher’s clumsy attempts at complimenting his art, not when he undoubtedly was used to scholars’ and nobles’ praises.

But then Jaskier’s expression shifted and his eyes lit up with something almost like awe.

“That was one of the kindest things I’ve heard about my singing in years.” He ducked his head almost shyly. “Most people tend to criticise me. Rather coldly, might I add.”

“Nothing to criticise as far as I could see.” Eskel shrugged sheepishly. “As I said, I would love to hear more of your art.”

Jaskier contemplated him for a moment that made the warm feeling in Eskel’s chest burn brighter. For some reason he didn’t mind the staring when it was Jaskier’s eyes he could feel on him.

“Does that mean you wouldn’t mind if I wrote a song about you?”

Coming from anyone else, Eskel would have thought that those were just empty words. Eskel wasn’t song-worthy.

And yet, when Jaskier eventually invited him to share the room with him to save some coin, the bard was already humming a melody to a new song.

Neither of them slept much that night. The both of them stayed up until almost the early hours of the morning, discussing rhyme schemes and talking about how writing poetry helped putting meaning into bad experiences and immortalising beautiful ones. Softly, they recited their favourite poetry to each other.

Eskel was embarrassed to admit that he had memorised some of Jaskier’s poetry but the confession made Jaskier smile brighter than any human should smile in the presence of a witcher. And when Jaskier lamented that most of his favourite lines of poetry were merely fragments lost to time, Eskel perked up and filled in the gaps for him, promising to show him his collection of ancient poetry at Kaer Morhen one day.

It wasn’t something to be taken seriously; merely a suggestion made in the spur of the moment, but Jaskier looked at him as if he had hung the stars and the moon for him and Eskel found himself hoping that maybe someday he would know Jaskier well enough to be allowed to give him such gifts.

Eskel fully expected Jaskier to be gone in the morning, and his heart skipped a beat when instead Jaskier announced that he would stick around at least until he would get to see Eskel fight.

When Jaskier finally went his own way to meet up with Geralt again two weeks later, he left Eskel with a strange yearning in his chest and verses that had been written for no one but him.

And beneath it all, Jaskier left him with an itch in his fingers that urged him to buy a quill and ink. He didn’t put anything to paper just yet. But the might-be that had haunted him for decades got just a little closer to a could-be. Perhaps Eskel could become what he had always wanted to be after all.

Perhaps next time he saw Jaskier, he would be able to share his own verses with the poet.

#jaskel #eskel/jaskier #jaskier/eskel #witcher fic #witcher #fic #fanfic #Multichapter #my writing #eskel #jaskier #pining #insecure eskel #self doubt #self consciousness #please tell me if you want to get tagged when I update

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writesowhatnext · 5 years ago

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everybody has those days // fred weasley

Summary: A drunken night at Harry and Ginny’s wedding leads to a slightly, very awkward situation with the reader and the bride’s elder brother

Request: nope

A/N: basically I read sunkissed by @ickle-ronniekins and I became, as the kids say, thirsty also as I was doing the warnings I realised that I essentially described uni so go figure!!! i don’t know why but this was so difficult to write and I’m like wow am I just losing the ability to form sentences

Reader: female

Warnings: suggestive themes, hangover, drinking, nudity, hickeys, innuendo, swearing,

A low sound escaped your lips as you shuffled, frowning at the strange weight over your waist. Peeling your eyes open, you winced as rays of bright sunlight leaked through the open curtains. So, you figured, today was almost certainly not going to be a very productive one. You huffed and then blinked slowly, adjusting to the light and letting your eyes focus, a decision you definitely regretted as a familiar face came into view.

Now, you’d recognise Fred Weasley’s face anywhere. Not only was he your best friend’s brother, but he was also half of your bosses and a man you’d been regrettably attracted to for almost seven years. So, as you looked at the slope of his nose and the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and his brassy red hair, you knew that you had made a decision somewhere along the way the night before with very hefty repercussions. And so, as all rational and mature people do in such a situation, you decided to handle it with a certain level of grace and decorum.

“Oh, fuck.”

You hauled yourself from the bed, your head screaming at the immediate whiplash from your sharp exit. The room spun around you and your knuckles look fit to burst as you clutched at the sheets in your hands, pulling them to your chest. Whether it was your abrupt profanity or the vicious reorganisation of his bedsheets, Fred let out a deep, gruff exclamation and tumbled backwards off the other side of the bed.

For a moment, you were both silent, except for the panting noises of your combined heavy breathing, and you found yourself staring very intently at Fred’s confused expression, trying desperately to remember the night before. Why couldn’t you sleep with and forget someone you hadn’t been pining for years for? Wouldn’t that have been more fun?

“What the bloody hell did you-“ he stopped himself as he looked at you wrapped up in his bedsheets, the skin of your neck and collarbones mottled with dark purplish bruises that he was sure he could almost still taste on his tongue. “Oh.”

He stood up with great difficulty, rubbing his head with his hand, sending his hair into ruffled disarray. You didn’t exactly mean to look down and you also didn’t mean to let out a high-pitched screech at the sight of his manhood.

“You’re naked!”

You looked away quickly, heat flooding your cheeks as he grabbed a pillow, the one you’d just been lying on, and placed it over his junk.

“You’re naked, too!”

Though you hadn’t intended to, his indignant tone made you look at him, and you caught what was left of an embarrassed flush extending from his face, all the way down his neck. You clenched your jaw at the sight.

“Please don’t think about me naked,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut as the throbbing in your forehead returned.

“Sorry, love,” he said. A lopsided grin pulling at his lips despite the edge to his voice, his inner panic rather obvious beneath the surface. “But I think that ship’s already-“

“Fred!” you squeaked, your eyes growing wide. He stayed silent, but his smile didn’t budge, enjoying your flustered expression far too much. “Do you remember what happened?”

You looked at him then, properly this time. He was handsome, but you always knew that, what with his strong jawline and the long slant of his neck. The skin all over his collar and chest was pale and freckled and covered in dark, splotchy hickeys, you realised with a strange warmth flooding your system. You swallowed against the tightness in your throat as your eyes trailed down, taking silent note of the lean muscles of his arms and his toned stomach.

“No, but if the way you’re looking me up and down right now is anything to go by, I think I can take a guess how it started.”

“What- No- You… Fred, you are so irritating,” you spluttered, annoyed that he could get you so riled up so easily. He shot you a lazy grin, the same one you’d seen almost every day since Ginny introduced the two of you. From the day you met, you and Fred had a habit of bickering constantly about nothing and everything all at the same time and you were sure that had you not been a close family friend, you’d have been fired years ago. Thinking of the family for the first time, your face soured as you dreaded to think what their reaction would be if they found out about how you spent your night. They’d probably hate you.

“You’re not too bad yourself, love.”

You shot him a dry look before remembering where you were. “I have to leave. Like right now.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply, too busy searching the ground for your clothes, heat searing under your skin at the haphazard display of them on the floor.

“Hey, wait, hold on,” Fred said, reaching out to you with one arm, holding the pillow with the other. You bit your lip, forcing yourself to focus.

“What?”

“Shouldn’t we…” he voice wavered slightly, a first for Fred. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

“This-“ you said, pointing between you and him, your underwear flying around in your grip. “Was a mistake.”

You noticed the way his eyes lingered on your hand and huffed, reaching down the get the rest of your clothes, searching for your dignity whilst you were down there. He probably only wanted a shag and whilst that would be totally fine for someone else, you just couldn’t do that. Not with your history. Not with your feelings.

“But-“

You didn’t give him the chance to speak as you shot up sharply.

“Turn around then!”

His brown eyes turned dry as he tilted his head, a silent sarcastic question on his lips. Your frown deepened and he sighed, turning around dutifully. You rushed to put your clothes from the night before on, struggling to keep your balance, especially when your eyes stalled on his bare bum.

“You better be looking at my arse,” he said, his signature smirk loud in his voice. You couldn’t even try to respond, returning to your dressing with new-found haste.

That had been a week and a half ago and you were still avoiding a proper conversation with him. You’d talk, of course, you worked together, you had to, but it was always just courtesy, small talk, and then that deafening silence Fred hated so much. He missed the easy banter you had and more than anything, he missed you. It all just felt so wrong and he couldn’t help but feel that he’d messed everything up somehow. And so, if you asked him, that’s why he was stood there, hiding behind boxes of sweets stacked neatly on a row of shelves and watching you refill the massive tub of love potions. He felt like a creep, but he hadn’t formed the right sentences or backbone required to talk to you yet. And so, as you emptied the box in your hand and made to fetch another from the backroom, he went to follow you, stopped only by a familiar waistcoat, or rather the man wearing it.

“You alright there, Fred?” George asked, the smile in his voice more than evident as he looked down at his crouching brother.

“Just peachy, cheers, George.”

“So, you’re just stalking Y/N for fun then, yeah?”

Fred glared up at his brother, sighing and standing up under his expectant stare.

“What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing,” Fred said far too quickly. He cursed his defensiveness and groaned. Instinctively, he knew you wouldn’t have told anyone; you said it was a mistake, he reminded himself, earning a familiar sinking feeling at the memory. And so, he’d avoided mentioning it to anyone either, even George, who was now staring at him with a very suspicious scowl.

“Fine,” Fred huffed, rubbing his face with his hands. “At Ginny’s wedding we uh- we-“

Well, he didn’t really remember, did he? He knew on a base level what must’ve happened, but you’d both been so pissed and-

“You shagged.”

“How the bloody hell do you know that?”

George’s laughter only served to further Fred’s indignance. “You two disappeared at midnight, fawning over each other like lovesick teenagers… it doesn’t take a lot to connect those dots, Freddie.”

Fred’s expression soured. “So, everybody knows, then.”

“Afraid so. Mum’s chuffed, obviously, thinks it means you’ll finally get together. With you pair, it was inevitable, though. Especially with that industrial-strength Romanian firewhiskey Charlie smuggled in.”

Fred groaned at the memory, gripped the shelf in front of him so hard his knuckles turned white.

“It’s ruined everything, George. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

George laughed again.

“What’s so bloody funny?”

“You’ve both been mad for each other since fourth year and you think a quick screw is gonna change that? We’ve been placing bets on you for years.”

“You what?”

“You’re so bloody oblivious, the pair of you, honestly.”

“I don’t-“ Fred huffed, immediately dismissing the idea that you would fancy him in any way. There was no chance. “I don’t understand.”

George, helpful as ever, just shook his head, chuckling as Fred rested his forehead on his hands. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but when someone cleared their throat next to him, he sighed.

“George, I’m-“

He stopped short when he saw you, with your arms cross and eyebrows raised. You were clearly unhappy with him. It was hard for him to care though when his words caught in his throat at the sight of you.

“You’re not George.”

“Why are you spying on me?”

“I’m not-“

“Fred.”

“I am Fred, actually.”

Your vaguely threatening expression made him rethink his approach.

“I’m not spying on you,” he insisted, throwing his hands up. “I’m just watching… closely.”

You rolled your eyes. As you looked at him properly for the first time since the incident, a strange feeling stirred in your chest. He was the same Fred he had been before; the same handsome features and the same five-steps-ahead ingenuity behind his eyes, but somehow it was all different. A very bad different. You sighed, turning to go back to your restocking when his hand caught your wrist. You frowned, your eyes trailing from his hand to his face, studying his almost surprised expression.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” he said, his eyes oddly sincere. You swallowed. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes-“

“I’ll say-“

“Can you not just listen to me?”

“Not when you’re acting so strange!”

“I’m acting strange? You’re the one that’s barely said a bloody word to me since we-“

“Fred!”

“Oh, give off,” he huffed, finally letting go of your arm. “George already knows.”

“You told him?”

“The whole family knows! Apparently, love, we aren’t as subtle as we think.”

You groaned, leaning back against the cash register and sliding down it until you hit the floor, rocking your head back against the wood.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked, pausing a moment before sitting next to you, your shoulders almost touching. You rubbed your eyes with your hands, thinking about Ginny’s reaction when she found out. It was a surprise she didn’t hate you already.

“It’s not the same for you, Fred. This is your family, it’s fine for you. But I’m just this girl that’s friends with your sister and probably should’ve been fired ages ago and they probably think I’m a right slag-“

He barked a laugh, his head tipping back and smacking against the register loudly. Had you not have found his consequent pout annoyingly adorable; you probably would’ve been able to keep your frustrated tone without a smile tugging at your lips.

“What is so funny about that?”

“Well, I mean, you don’t need to be worried about that, do you? You’ve always been a slag,” he said, laughing at your offended expression as you smacked his arm, unable to contain your own laughter.

“You’re such a cheeky git.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N, you were never just some girl. You’ve been a part of this family since you were fourteen.”

You didn’t say anything at that, not even when you felt his eyes carefully inspecting your side profile.

“And it wasn’t a mistake for me,” he said, softer this time. “It’s actually been a very long time coming.”

You sighed, drawing your knees up to your chest and biting your lip.

“It wasn’t for me either.”

It wasn’t until his knee hit against yours that you mustered up the courage to look at him, floored slightly by the sheer amount of emotion in his eyes.

“So, what now?” you whispered, raising an eyebrow. It felt foreign to be so vulnerable with Fred, but you found that you didn’t hate it as much as you thought you would.

“Well,” he said, pulling back his sleeve to look at the time. “We’ve got about twenty minutes till we open and an empty cupboard about,” he squinted. “Thirty feet away.”

You wanted to be mad at him; that was always your go-to emotion with Fred, but as you watched him grin with his bright eyes and his tongue between his teeth, all you felt was a familiar fondness for this stupid, obnoxious, annoying man. And even as you stood up and let him pull you to the broom closet, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad about that either.

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness

@xinyourdreamsx

@brainlesspasta

@hariosborn

@staringmoony

@rexorangecouny

@ickle-ronniekins

@harrysweasleys

@alittletoomanyobsessions

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #writing #imagine #Harry Potter imagine #harry potter

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jaepies · 4 years ago

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𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙣 - haikyuu!!

oikawa x fem!reader

mafia au

chapter 5 : fate

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

the air was suffocating.

like a thick blanket, it wrapped around you and was intertwining with your mouth; bubbling with putrid sensations. it trapped your airway shut preventing oxygen from entering the complex system of the lungs. you failed to breathe, your hands bound by ragged pieces of fabric that surprisingly halted every move you made.

every second ticked by, every second you grew weaker.

your eyelids felt heavy again, feeling dejected you submitted into the devil's wishes and let slumber sweep you into another fantasy. a world where the circumstances were different and life upheld its joyful status.

fate is a humorous thing, some are blessed with a fate that brings them glory and delight but every once in a while the jokester that is fate plays practical jokes on the lesser people. fate shrouded them with despair. you had accepted that you were simply one of these lesser people, like the sky; death seemed to be looming over your head at every corner you turned.

your poisoned fate was cemented; no escape could be seen so whatever was to befall your way in these fleeting moments - you would accept it with clenched teeth and slap a false smile on.

a rather powerful strike to the face is what gave you a rude awakening. your eyes springing open at the sensation of throbbing, only to view unfamiliar faces peering at you with disgust.

your eyes shot to the perpetrator of the slap, the guilty man made no effort to disguise himself as the bald man had his hand still raised in the air.

his hand had blushed with red colour as an aftereffect of waking you. silence sat on his lips; no words were needed as the frown he displayed spoke all the words for him.

"k-kageyama do you think she can hear us?"

to the left of the dingy room were two juvenile looking boys. one of which had an orange flame for hair and tentatively clung to the taller boy whom you assumed to be the aforementioned 'kageyama'. the young boy was evidently discomposed by your presence which was ironic since they were the one who captured you in the first place.

"idiot, she's awake of course she can. i thought you were dumb but i didn't realise you were this dumb."

"kageyama, you shouldn't say things like that to your friends and you aren't exactly the brightest star in the world either."

"you aren't even making sense right now? at least i'm not some crazy maniac who bounces off the walls all day, every day-"

"do you guys ever shut up? you are both as dumb as one another and that's final. you both are freaks who deserve each other."

a blonde boy with glasses interrupted the bickering pair, clearly bored at their antics as he wore a displeased scowl on his face.

"everyone please calm down, we have a guest present. we should at least be courteous and introduce ourselves."

the three students fell silent at the older man's stern voice and you did too. terror coursed through your veins causing you to freeze. one quick glance and these boys seemed harmless however if there was anything that you have learnt in the previous days is that there is always more than what meets the eye.

*cough* oikawa *cough*

the man spoke with such conviction that a small child could cry upon hearing his voice.

suddenly it clicked.

they appeared to be around the same age as you and caught you on your way to meeting up with another gang. when entering the gymnasium, it was like a ghost town. tumbleweed might as well have rolled along the slippery floor.

the aoba johsai volleyball team had been played with.

these boys were karasuno, the gang you were supposed to have had a peaceful and hassle-free transaction with.

"i guess there's no need to introduce ourselves then. you seemed to have figured it out yourself, smart girl you are."

when preparing for the transaction, a first-year called kunimi who you had gotten to know in the short space of time had written a profile on each of the members of karasuno. Iwaizumi ensured that you had it memorised like a second language.

it all came rushing back to you and these unfamiliar faces became clearer than they were a few seconds ago. the man who spoke to you held the same position as oikawa as the leader of the group, he was no other than sawamura daichi.

you were never able to grasp the ability to mask your emotions, daichi must have been able to pick up your abrupt hostility as a reaction to the epiphany.

"what do you want?"

the bitter-tone rolling naturally off your tongue, you kept your guard up.

the information on these men was limited as they were a slowly rising gang. with the various member changes, it was a frustration trying to gather knowledge on the fallen crows.

"we don't really want anything. only for the district to know that we are back."

the words were dripping in venom, you could tell that daichi enjoyed watching you squirm.

the toxicity being emitted by room was overriding your senses and it was taking everything in your will-power to maintain your composure in front of the gang.

"but why this way?"

"where's the fun in just assassinating people for power's sake? the most pleasurable way is to take an object so precious to someone that they are forced to do whatever you want. that's how you gain leverage."

bile steadily crept up in your throat, ready to make its exit if daichi were to utter one more syllable. subconsciously you had placed all your bets onto oikawa, hoping that he would storm in and rescue you.

"god that's sick and twisted. i hope karma slaps you in the face before i do. "

"oh sweetheart~"

hearing the nickname was like a punching bag to stomach. it disgusted you at how sickly sweet it sounded, at how easily he said it. behind the smirk he held was a sadistic and warped shell of a man who made you feel nauseated to the stomach.

"you have no idea who you have gotten yourself involved with. we are merely the tip of the iceberg, once you fall down this rabbit hole there is no crawling out of it. consider this experience a warning."

"i know what i have signed up for. since i have met you, i have met the worst already. there's not much more which the world could throw my way."

"you can try and fool me with your tough girl act-"

you could feel the hot breath of daichi fanning your face as he lowered his stance to your height. his sly gaze pierced right through you, creating an even more uncomfortable atmosphere. you turned your head as he spoke, not wanting your brain to endure the pain of even looking at the corrupt man.

"-but i see right through it."

droplets of spit took refuge on your hair as his words were accompanied by saliva escaping his dirty mouth.

then you realised,

you were a lesser person. fate did not want to treat you like you were royalty. instead, it thought of you as a dismal teenager whose life could easily be disposed of.

you were a damsel in distress with no prince charming coming to protect you and fight in your honour. no matter how hard you tried to fool yourself into believing that you were not alone. the reality was more genuine than the empty words which oikawa had spoken to you.

you were tired. this whole night had been incredibly taxing on your brain and regrettably, Daichi was right, you were afraid.

so afraid and fragile.

you were just going to shut your eyes and put your mind at ease. in time you would surely meet your demise...

it was as if lightning had struck the door,

an ear-splitting thud was heard from the mouldy door and a cloud of smoke had been created as a consequence of the intrusion. the silhouettes who were the cause of the disruption stood concealed by the fine, yellow dust.

maybe,

just maybe,

fate had allowed you a little more time.

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