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inaris-mage-of-storms · 8 months ago

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}{ Who Are You? Are You Nobody, Too? }{

}{ Thrown into a strange game with no memories of their lives before, Jimmy and Scott find comfort in a quiet valley and in each other. }{

}{ 3rd Life }{ Flower Husbands }{ 3.9k }{ sfw abridged version of an entry for Driving After Dark 2 }{

"We're married now."

Jimmy gaped as Scott grinned at him behind the delicate petals of the flower he held to his nose. "E - excuse me?"

It was just a bit, surely. The sort of joke that he would usually, if the other person was someone he liked, lean into with everything he had and flirt back just as hard. But something about the soft quirk of Scott's lips and the gleam in his gemstone eyes made Jimmy's thoughts short circuit.

"You gave me a flower. We're married now," repeated Scott. "That's how it works, you know."

"Oh," was all Jimmy managed to get out. He was fairly certain that wasn't how marriage worked, despite his missing memories, but the crystalline notes of Scott's ringing laughter eroded any desire Jimmy had to challenge the declaration.

And anyway, it was just a bit. Surely.

Scott seemed to be completely serious about teaming up, at least, and Jimmy was eager to prove himself a good ally who could carry his weight without being a burden. That was why he opted to build his own little house on the opposite side of the valley, to avoid inserting himself into Scott's space without a direct invitation. He showed off his work proudly, but the way Scott's ears dropped when he saw it had Jimmy second-guessing himself.

"Sorry. I'm not a very good builder," he said as he twisted his hands uncertainly. "I know you like things to be all cute and everything. I tried my best, but - "

Scott cocked his head to one side and seemed almost perplexed as he watched Jimmy stumble over his words. Then some realization or another that Jimmy couldn't work out crossed his face, and he smiled in that way that always sent Jimmy's stomach into somersaults.

"I do like cute things. That's why you're around." He giggled at Jimmy's immediate flush. "It's a good start, really! Do you mind if I...?"

Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he had only imagined the disappointment in Scott's eyes earlier. "Not at all, go ahead! What's mine is yours."

"Oh? I'll keep that in mind." Amusement sparkled in Scott's eyes, assuring Jimmy that his next words were only meant to tease, not be taken seriously. "It will soothe the disappointment that my husband doesn't want to live in the same house as me."

"...What?" squeaked Jimmy. He squeaked a lot around Scott, he was beginning to realize. "Wait, that's what you were upset about?"

Scott laughed.

- }{ -

By the time Jimmy returned, both the face of his cliffside hut and the flower valley as a whole sported significant improvements. Scott was kneeling by a campfire near the lakeshore, stirring a pot of something that smelled amazing. His ears twitched almost imperceptibly at Jimmy's approach, and he looked up to greet him with that smile that sent Jimmy's stomach into somersaults.

His stomach went into a lot of somersaults around Scott, he was beginning to realize.

"I thought we'd have dinner out here, meet in the middle so to speak. If that's okay with you." Scott turned his attention back to the stew.

Jimmy grinned. "Yeah, 'course it is. Just let me put everything away." He emptied his inventory of all the resources he'd gathered on his trip out, then joined Scott by the fire. "What all's in there, anyway?"

"Mostly vegetables." Scott lifted the wooden spoon he was stirring with, both to show Jimmy the chunk of carrot that rested on it and to test the tenderness of the vegetable against the wall of the pot. "Our first harvest of carrots and potatoes, and some odds and ends I foraged from the woods. I did add some of the chicken you prepared earlier, to make it a little more hearty."

He set aside the spoon and picked up a ladle instead, filling a bowl and passing it to Jimmy before filling his own. Jimmy accepted it gratefully, taking a tentative sip of the hot broth before picking up one of the two smaller spoons that waited nearby. "Oh, that's delicious - wait, did you carve all these dishes today?"

Scott seemed pleased that Jimmy had noticed. Jimmy would notice every detail he could if it meant that smile would stay on those pretty lips. "I did," said Scott. "I finished my building projects earlier than I expected, so I thought I might as well start on some easy comforts."

"Oh my gosh, that's impressive! Is there anything you're not good at?"

Scott's ears twitched happily. "Oh, very little," he said smugly, and Jimmy laughed.

There wasn't much in the way of conversation at first. Jimmy's focus was on the stew, the day's hard work of gathering logs and stone and ores having made him ravenous. Scott was similarly focused on refueling after all the hours spent building. But as food and silence both settled, the slightly awkward small talk between them strengthened into something easy and comfortable. They told each other what little they could about themselves, information drawn from either their limited memories or gut feelings, and theorized about what they couldn't recall.

"Do you think we're anyone important in our home worlds?" Jimmy asked. He stared up at the first stars that faded into existence as the sky slowly dimmed. "I get the feeling that some of the others are, you know? Like Etho, or Martyn. They just feel so...big. Like there's no way they aren't someone."

Scott was laying next to him in the grass. The inches between their shoulders felt ever so close and oh so far all at the same time. "I don't think I am. Or rather, I hope I'm not. Being known by strangers sounds...exhausting. I just want a quiet little life with someone I care about."

Jimmy smiled. "That sounds nice. I don't think I'm anyone important either. But you're right; being nobody sounds like the way to go." He turned his head to look at Scott. "You know, we never did proper introductions. Hi, I'm Jimmy. I'm nobody."

Scott turned his head to look at Jimmy with a soft smile. "Hi Jimmy. I'm Scott. I'm nobody, too."

Jimmy laughed.

- }{ -

No one on the server knew quite what to make of their situation. Fourteen people, dropped into an unknown world, with no memory of the lives they surely must have been leading before and only the knowledge that they had agreed to partake in some sort of game. They were all vaguely aware that there were rules that would be revised with death, knew three deaths would be the end, and had a strong suspicion that some of them must have known at least some of the others before. But beyond that, they were almost as much a mystery to themselves as they were to one another.

Jimmy had his own strong suspicion that Scott was the sort to be just as mysterious in his regular life. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the...elf? fae? Jimmy didn't know exactly what he was, and Scott only smiled and deflected the question when Jimmy asked.

Neither man avoided the rest of the server entirely, but decided early on that they preferred to keep to themselves for the most part, unwilling to get too involved with the growing tensions between other factions. With a strong wall erected around their little valley and most of the resources they needed within, it was easy to forget that there was more to the situation than living the quiet little life Scott had admitted to dreaming of.

It was easy to forget, too, that they weren't really married. Scott still jokingly referred to Jimmy as his husband, even in front of the others, and seemed perpetually amused by Jimmy's variety of flustered reactions whenever he did.

Jimmy might not have been certain of much, but he knew beyond doubt that he was utterly enchanted by his basemate. The first time Scott leaned over and kissed Jimmy's cheek, Jimmy's thoughts crashed so hard that he barely heard Scott ask (with difficulty concealing his delight) if he was all right.

"Fine! I'm perfectly fine," he managed to squeak out. "Was just - thinking! About the, um, the thing. The thing that needs, uh, repaired right? I'll...go do that now."

"Right, the thing," repeated Scott, eyes sparkling. Jimmy wondered if they shone just as brightly in whatever color they were naturally, whether they were the green they were now or some other shade. "Best get to it before sunset."

- }{ -

It took Jimmy another three days to work up the courage to ask Scott for another kiss. He wasn't even planning on it at the time, but they were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the lakeshore when a stray petal drifted down from the clifftop and landed in Jimmy's hair.

Scott leaned in and reached up to pluck it away. "Trying a new accessory?" he said with a grin. His voice was low and his breath was warm, and Jimmy found that all of a sudden desire outweighed anxiety.

"Can I kiss you?"

Scott's eyes widened in surprise, then his mouth curved into that soft, soft smile. "Of course. You don't really have to ask to kiss your own husband, you know."

Jimmy let out a breathless chuckle. "You're still sticking to your little joke, huh?"

Scott's ears dropped, and Jimmy's heart dropped with them when he saw hurt clouding his pretty eyes. "You thought I was joking about that?"

"Well...yeah?" Jimmy tilted his head in confusion. "I mean, you said it literally within the first, like, hour of meeting. We barely know one another, Scott."

"Oh." Scott pulled away. Jimmy was struck with the desire to pull him close and assure him he didn't mean it. "I'm sorry. I mean, I know we're not married married, but you never said anything against it, and I thought you liked me back, so I just sort of...assumed."

"Assumed what?" This wasn't going at all how Jimmy had pictured it. "And I do like you! I just didn't want to, you know, take things at face value and look like an idiot later if it turned out I misinterpreted what you meant." He paused. "Which...okay, in hindsight - "

If the delicate bell-shaped flowers that dotted the ground in the woods could actually ring, Jimmy imagined they would sound an awful lot like Scott's laughter.

"So you do like me?" Scott's ears were beginning to perk back up, albeit cautiously. "You're not mad that I assumed we were dating?"

"I mean, I wish you would have said something? But no, I'm not mad." Heat blossomed across his cheeks. "So...about that kiss?"

Scott leaned in but paused at the last moment, letting Jimmy be the one to close the gap. Jimmy leaned in too, and the longing feeling in his chest that he hadn't even known was there disappeared.

Logically, Jimmy knew it couldn't possibly be his first kiss. The jitters he felt had more to do with kissing someone new for the first time, not the act of kissing itself. But was it the first time he had ever kissed Scott? It didn't seem probable that they even knew each other in the outside world, let alone were romantically involved, and yet...

Scott deepened the kiss, melting into Jimmy when Jimmy put his arms around him. The way their mouths moved together felt like the most natural thing in the world. One ear twitched in - surprise? delight? Jimmy had learned quickly how to read Scott's subtle body language, but some microexpressions were still beyond him - when Jimmy was the one to take initiative and run his tongue along Scott's lower lip, and he let him in immediately.

By the time they parted to pant for air, Jimmy had lowered Scott down into the soft grass, and the way Scott stared up at him with swollen lips and gentle surrender in his eyes stole Jimmy's breath away as quickly as he could catch it.

"I don't want this to be over."

The confession that slipped out of Jimmy startled both of them. Then Scott's confusion gave way to amusement, and he laughed. "Well, I don't exactly plan on giving you up any time soon."

"No, I mean - " Jimmy sighed and rested his forehead against Scott's. "What happens at...at the end? I know what happens when you die in a typical hardcore world, but..."

But nothing about their situation was typical. And even in a typical world, the same fear lurked in the background of every player's mind: what if something goes wrong? what if my eyes don't open again like they're meant to? what if this is actually final? Jimmy had been trying not to think about it, but being dropped into a strange game with no memory was unsettling enough, and only magnified those natural fears.

They might be the players, but something else was toying with them.

"I think we'll respawn wherever we're meant to be," said Scott firmly. "Whatever block has been placed on our memories will be gone, we'll be safe at home - wherever 'home' is - and we'll have new friends to contact. Or old friends to check up on," he added, threading his fingers through Jimmy's hair.

Jimmy nosed against his cheek, then lay next to him with a sigh. "You think we know each other on the outside?"

Scott snorted. "Jimmy, either we already knew each other before this, or we have what is quite possibly the most insane and immediate chemistry that has ever existed between two people." He mirrored the way Jimmy lay on his side, tucking a hand under his head. "You...feel like home. It's hard to imagine I came from a life where I didn't already love you."

Jimmy smiled. "Home?" he repeated, feeling a sliver of hope for what could be.

"Home," said Scott, and it sounded like a promise.

- }{ -

"I mean, you don't have to use it or anything." Jimmy pressed his fingertips together nervously. "It's not very well-made, actually. It's only holding together because Impulse helped me with all the fiddly bits."

Scott stared at the hand-cranked beater he held, turning it over and inspecting it. Jimmy shifted nervously. A few days before, Scott had lamented the lack of much nicer kitchen appliances found on more established servers, wishing aloud for even the simplicity of an electric mixer to make his baking easier. A bundle of twigs made a sufficient enough whisk for eggs, but not so much for making a smooth, creamy frosting to top the variety of little cakes he liked to bake.

"I did wonder what you were spending so long at the anvil for the other day." Scott tapped a finger against the metal of the beater. "I love it. Thank you."

Jimmy beamed, pleased with the pleased expression on Scott's face and even happier with the kiss that followed. "My husband is so talented," said Scott, resting his forehead against Jimmy's. "Is there anything you're not good at?"

"Quite a lot, actually," said Jimmy with a sheepish grin, and Scott laughed.

Scott made a cake that very night, informing Jimmy with delight that the beater did indeed make a significant difference to the texture of the frosting he'd previously been mixing with only a wooden spoon. Privately, Jimmy couldn't tell much of a difference, but he kept that thought to himself. He was more interested in the way Scott offered a scoop of frosting on his fingertip for Jimmy to taste, and the way Scott's breath caught when Jimmy gripped his wrist firmly and took his time licking away the creamy glaze.

"It's delicious." Jimmy didn't intend the low, deep tone that his voice took on, but he took great interest in the way Scott swallowed hard, parted his lips, and leaned closer. It would be easy to tease him, but it would be even easier to lean in and kiss him.

"Don't you have a cake to frost?" he murmured against Scott's lips when Scott went for a second kiss almost right away.

"It still needs to cool," Scott murmured back. Not one to be denied, he mouthed at Jimmy's jawline and down his neck, and it was Jimmy's to flush and lean closer. "Could take hours, really."

Jimmy chuckled breathlessly. "Hours, huh? Well, you're the expert. What do we do in the meantime?"

Scott smiled against his neck. Jimmy's heart pounded in his chest.

He was so caught up in imagining the possibilities of what Scott might say next that it took him a moment to realize what was happening when Scott stepped back, smiling ever so sweetly, and handed him a pile of dishes to be washed.

- }{ -

"What's on your mind?"

Jimmy jumped as Scott nudged him with his shoulder. "Oh! Gosh, you startled me. Sorry, what did you say?"

Scott's lips were quirked upwards and he kept his tone light, but the crease of his brow betrayed his concern. "You've been a million miles away all day. What's wrong?"

"Oh. Nothing's wrong. I just..." Jimmy looked down at the blade laying across his lap and gave it another polish. "Some of the others think this is all going to turn into a proper war."

"Hmm." Scott looked out over the water. The sun that shone down on them was warm, but not overly so. Dragonflies flitted around the reeds. A little frog sat quietly in the mud shaded by a rock. A bluejay watched them from the top of the wall, silent.

Jimmy polished a freshly sharpened sword. Two sets of armor hung by the anvil, gleaming with newly applied enchantments. The potions chest next to Scott's brewing stand was crowded.

"What if - "

Scott put a hand over Jimmy's. "We'll be okay. We're just a couple of nobodies, remember?" He slipped the sword from Jimmy's grasp and set it off to the side, replacing it with his own fingers. Jimmy held on like he'd been handed a lifeline he was afraid to let go of.

He looked around at the beautiful oasis he and Scott had created together. He looked at Scott, so graceful he could easily be mistaken for some ethereal spirit who lived among the flowers.

Perhaps he was. Perhaps Scott had always been here, part of this valley of eternal summer, and only Jimmy was the outsider.

Jimmy didn't care anymore about the world before, he realized. Sure, he was a little curious, but had everything he needed here. He had a home, rustic but comfortable, with plenty of room to improve over time. He had friends, some of whom - like Martyn and BigB - even felt like he'd known for years.

He had Scott.

Nothing, in this world or any other, could fill his heart the way Scott did.

"Jimmy?"

Scott squeezed his hand. Jimmy swallowed against the emotions creeping up his throat.

There was a poppy in his inventory, picked only this morning and stored away until Jimmy could figure out the best time to present it. But realizing his heart was certain in an uncertain world, it didn't seem like there would be a better time than right now.

Scott blinked at the flower Jimmy handed him, but took it without hesitation. "We're married now," said Jimmy, and Scott's eyes shot back up to meet his own. Jimmy grinned. "I gave you a flower. We're married now. That's how it works, right?"

"Oh," was all Scott managed to get out. Then his arms were around Jimmy's neck, and his mouth was crashing against Jimmy's mouth, and it really didn't matter anymore what the rest of the factions outside the wall were or weren't planning.

Jimmy smiled as Scott grinned at him behind the delicate petals of the flower he held to his nose, and they both laughed.

- }{ -

"What's on your mind?"

One of Scott's ears flicked toward Jimmy at the sound of his voice, but he didn't take his eyes off the nearly complete flower crown in his hands. "Just trying to decide how many more roses I want in this."

Jimmy tucked in the end of the last stem on his own flower crown and placed it on Scott's head. "It's not very nice to lie to your husband, you know."

Scott chuckled, but Jimmy could hear the reservation lurking in the melodious notes. Jimmy cupped his cheek, and Scott leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too." Jimmy pressed his lips to Scott's forehead. "Why do you sound so sad about it? You're not breaking up with me, are you?"

He meant it as a joke, but the way Scott looked at him sent his stomach plummeting.

"No, of course not." Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief, and Scott gave him an apologetic smile. "But seeing Scar turn red, it made me think about what's coming. What happens when this is all over."

"Didn't we already talk about this?" Jimmy kissed Scott's forehead, then the bridge of his nose, then under his eye. "We outlive everyone, and enjoy being nobodies together. Easy."

Scott's eyes were soft as he watched Jimmy. "Yeah. Easy." He finished weaving the flowers he still clutched, then crowned Jimmy with them. "But let's say something happens and we respawn back in our old lives. Would you...still want me?"

"Yes."

Jimmy answered without hesitation, not needing to think about it. He already had thought about, late at night staring at the ceiling and listening to Scott's steady breathing next to him. He knew this couldn't last forever, as badly as he wanted it to. But he and Scott could.

"I want to marry you for real," he said softly. "Maybe we can find a cleric somewhere, or maybe Ren could do it. Kings can do that sort of thing, right?"

Scott laughed. "You know what? Why don't we do it? Think about it; clerics and kings officiate marriages because they represent a higher authority. But the only authority I care to recognize is yours and mine."

"I like the sound of that." Jimmy kissed Scott's hand. If he'd ever been to any weddings, he couldn't remember them, but he could recall some vague approximation of what must be standard vows. "I promise to cherish you forever and stand by your side, for better or for worse, from one dream to the next."

Under a veil of sunshine and poppies, Scott smiled at his husband. "I promise to cherish you forever and stand by your side," he repeated. "For better or for worse, from one dream to the next."

The vows were simple, the kiss was chaste, and the only witnesses were butterflies and birds. But it was theirs, and it was beautiful. In a peaceful valley in one little corner of a strange world, two nobodies grinned at one another under the delicate petals of the flowers in their hair, and they both laughed.

#file: storm writes things #flower husbands #trafficshipping #the full version will go up on ao3 and the sideblog in a day or two

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starryficsfinishwen · 2 years ago

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[Slight NSFW] love me harder ⋄ chrome one-shot

heaven sent you to me

a.n. // just chrome. and this artwork plus love me harder by ari and the weeknd just gave me ✨inspiration✨ and I promised other PGR character stories but don't worry! will post it very soon mwehehe

pairing // chrome glory x f!commandant reader

c.w. // sexual tension kek. some fluff. in denial chrome. just chrome. reader is wearing a skirt. mutual pining ofc. guess some suggestive parts here too

words // 2,988

For the first time in his life, Chrome was disoriented.

Core captain of Strike Hawk, "Smith" — and many other titles that one could imagine in Babylonia. Chrome was a prodigy, a masterpiece carved to perfection; no problem that would pass him would ever escape his mind.

Yet, there was this one thought that somehow made all the titles he had rendered useless: you.

The esteemed and beloved commandant of Gray Raven. You were supposed to be nothing more but a colleague to him. But since all the missions that fate and the council had brought together...

A sudden banging sound reverberated along the four-cornered walls of Strike Hawk's dormitory, causing the occupants inside to jump in surprise.

❝Captain!❞ Kamui's voice shook Chrome back to reality. Blinking a few times, he drifted to the large cracks of the table before him.

❝Ah,❞ Chrome sighed, sinking back to his chair, ❝Sorry, guys.❞

❝Captain, if the recent missions are bothering you, you should consider taking a break.❞ Wanshi yawned, resting his chin on his propped palm, ❝you seem to be out of place lately.❞

❝Wanshi's right, capt.!❞ Kamui beamed as if a tail was wagging behind him.

❝That's also the fourth time this week.❞ Camu snickers, causing Kamui to nudge him with a mumble.

❝I know,❞ Chrome sighs once more, running a hand over his hair, ❝I'll consider your suggestion, Wanshi. Thank you.❞

❝I guess I'll talk to the commandant again today. I'm sure she wo-❞

Chrome shot up from the chair, attempting to stop Kamui from standing, ❝-don't!❞

However, the hard force of Chrome's hand colliding with the table became the final blow to it falling apart, making Camu holler with a burst of loud laughter. Ridden with a creeping warmth to his cheeks and embarrassment, Chrome covered his face from the rest of the baffled Strike Hawk members.

Wanshi though had a curious expression on his face. ❝Captain, do you not want to see the commandant?❞

❝Of course, I do.❞ Chrome spoke, still looking away, ❝I just. I wish not to disturb the commandant with such trivial matters like these. I can fix this.❞

Kamui, in an attempt to console the laughing Camu, spoke, ❝true, but I always talk to the commandant. In fact, she likes it when she keeps visiting here, y'know.❞

❝Still,❞ Chrome coughs, ❝this is the least we can do for her. She doesn't have to be distracted by us again.❞

❝Hey, capt.,❞ Wanshi pipes, ❝are you sure you don't want to disturb the commandant, or are you just looking for excuses to not see her?❞

Chrome looked up to see Wanshi's signature sleepy expression on his face. Disregarding the familiar warmth tingling his ears, he scoffed, ❝of course not. I'm not avoiding the commandant.❞

❝The other day, when we met the commandant by the hallway, you just passed her instead of waving back at her.❞ Kamui nodded.

❝and you also said you didn't want to see her face.❞ Even Camu finally snapped out of his laughter.

❝It's not like that, you guys!❞ Chrome exasperatedly sighed, ❝I was just busy thinking.❞

❝Everyone here notices, captain. Even the commandant herself,❞ Wanshi shrugs, ❝I think you should at least clear it up with her.❞

But alas, despite Chrome's smart brain, his pride was on another level.

❝I can fix it myself.❞

A master of weapons.

Yet, a jester in fixing things. Chrome feels like a clown, really. Bet a clown has a better life than him right now.

As Chrome puts down the chunk of wood on the table he tried to fix, he can't help but wonder once again. These few weeks were pent-up pressure — especially after the confrontation with the agent. How the missions that made you closer to him, and the feelings he was not supposed to feel kept resurfacing, no matter how many times he's denied it. Were constructs supposed to feel this way? He tries to remember the directions and the basic functions of a construct. Yet, no notable data would pop up.

Was he really having feelings for you, or was his M.I.N.D. overloading?

Chrome was no stranger to these feelings. Other than the books he used to read back when he was human, he has always dreamed of having to love someone, too.

Perhaps it was time for him to call for Lee's help. Or Asimov's. Whichever was suitable for his situation. Yet, as if the universe heard his plea, there was a ring from the front door of their dormitory. Probably from the delivery, thought Chrome. Though, by the time he opens the door, the cold seemed to pool over his feet.

❝Chrome-?❞ your equally confused and surprised expression mirrored his.

The world really had to play a game with him, huh? Despite the raging feeling his chest was digging in his chest, he stepped away to make room for you.

❝Commandant,❞ even trying to level his trembling voice, he tries to welcome you, ❝I'm...really sorry for disturbing you. You must have had a lot of things to do.❞

❝No, it's okay, Chrome.❞ You assured, lightly laughing, ❝I'm not disturbed at all. It's a pleasure to be around you and the rest of the Strike Hawk members anyway...❞

Your gaze drifted to the scene behind you, before looking back at an expectant Chrome. ❝Wanshi, Kamui, and Camu are not around?❞

❝Ah, they said they would be out to training. I guess you can say it'll just be the two of u-❞

Chrome promptly looks back at you, who had an eyebrow raised. Coughing, he looked away from you. ❝-um, don't mind that. Please come inside, commandant.❞

Being the gentleman he is while trying not to be with you , he tries to make you settle well into the room. Serving snacks, giving you water — anything just to keep you entertained.

All the time you tinkered around with the monitors, grateful for Chrome's hospitality, Chrome can't help but look at you. The expertise in everything — despite him being at the same level as him. In fact, he felt more embarrassed though; a mere thing such as fixing a broken table was done by you instead of him.

Unfortunately, you're also now lounging in Chrome's room. Sitting so pretty on his bed, paying attention to your work; and he, admiring you.

❝Chrome,❞ you coughed, finally catching his attention, ❝so, um. Kamui told me you've been occupied lately.❞

❝Yes, I have been. Fa- I mean, Mr. Smith has been keeping tabs on me, and I've decided to take on a lot of tasks to keep me busy.❞ He sat opposite of you, careful not to somehow face you.

❝Busy enough to not talk, I presume?❞ The hint of sarcasm was somehow noticed by Chrome, who sighed in regret.

❝I-I'm sorry, Commandant. It really just slipped my mind.❞ Awkwardly scratching the back of his nape, he looks at you apologetically, ❝I'll try to notice you more.❞

❝It's not that I blame you, Chrome.❞ You reached out to caress his hand, the Captain with his eyes wide open, ❝I'm just worried about you. I think you should ease on the tasks, hm? I think that should stop you from overworking yourself.❞

As you spoke ever so softly and calmly, Chrome, on the other hand, felt a wave of unwelcomed warmth crawling once more on his skin. A myriad of memories prior to switching to his Glory frame also began to replay in his M.I.N.D., making the heat rise to his cheeks.

❝Chrome?❞ You asked, stepping forward to look closely at his reddening face, ❝are you alright? Are you overhea-❞

Before you could touch his face, a sudden jerk on the ground caused the both of you to lose balance — and the both of you tumbling to the floor.

A shake occurred before the lights of the dormitory turned off, switching to the emergency red lights. Your vision fails to return as a cushion was smothered to your face, still not used to the dark.

❝Emergency shutdown commenced.❞ The automated voice blared through the speakers before Celica's voice comes up. ❝Apologies for the sudden power interruption. We'll get it back shortly.❞

❝Chrome,❞ you huffed, ❝you alright?❞

There was no response. You tried looking up, and you were met with dimly glowing, shocked blue eyes. You, then, realize you were on top of the Captain. Chrome, even in the dark, had cheeks burning noticeably with the glow of his eyes.

Unknowingly, the grip you never knew was on your waist was gripping you tightly, ❝u-um...Commandant, are you alright?❞

❝I am, what about you?❞

Chrome sucks in a breath. ❝I should...get you to bed.❞

Chrome remembers how ethereal you were, even in the middle of the haze he was in.

It was a life-and-death situation: a scary, uncertain future if he were to undergo the switching of his new frame. Yet, you were there. How, despite his humanoid sense, your touch felt human. How, in the dim light of the operating table, your soft voice managed to calm him down. How, in the haze and the will of your support and care for him as you kept him in control in his M.I.N.D., greatly affected him in a good way. It was enough to keep him alive, it was enough to let him see another day with you.

Perhaps, that was the day he fell in love with someone — you.

But you deserved someone better than him. Someone that was human. And that's what made Chrome hesitate.

The raging feelings that danced wildly in his chest felt like they wanted to break out as he held your hand. The both of you were sitting at the edge of his bed. You both tried to get out, but unfortunately, even the power source made the door unlockable. The only light source you had was the emergency lights and the glow of his eyes...and the heat of your hand radiating off of his own.

In the first few minutes, you've joked that you would have to use him in evening patrols. It did take a laugh out of him, but now you were both back to zero.

❝I remember that you were scared of the dark.❞ Chrome whispered. You nodded, faintly glad he remembered that trivial information.

❝Yeah. I hate that I can't see a thing.❞

❝Do you still feel uncomfortable? I can brighten up my eyes for you.❞

❝No,❞ you squeezed his hand, ❝I feel completely fine if you held me like this.❞

Though, you were even more uncomfortable with the awkward small talk and in-between silences. You wished nothing more than to make him talk more. And so, determined to make him break the silence, your own heartbeat started to beat loud as you mustered the courage to speak the very question you've been wanting to ask.

❝Chrome, can you please tell me the truth?❞ you began, mouth trembling, ❝I think you've been ignoring me lately. Is something wrong?❞

And again, the Captain is silent. Sighing, you prod on, ❝I don't get if it's your professionalism, but it's not like we're not friends or something. Was it what I said last mission? Did I offend you?❞

❝No-❞ he sighs, ❝-it's nothing like that.❞

❝Yeah? Why are you really ignoring me, then?❞

❝...it's hard to explain.❞ was all he said.

And it made you scoff. At first, you were letting the issue go because you respected his privacy. But now, even his initial reason wasn't that applicable; it seemed like lying.

And so, you let your mouth do all the thinking instead. ❝okay, fine. To be honest, I don't believe you. I mean, why though? I know Asimov has been keeping an eye on you and you're both keeping me out of the true reason.❞

❝Commandant,❞ if you hadn't listened to his voice. then you would have missed the slight growl he made as he spoke of your title.

❝I'm right, isn't it? That Asimov is making you play a little game? That's why you're ignoring me?❞

To be honest, you seem to sound more like a brat at that point, but the bitter words seem to endlessly flow out of your mouth.

❝Honestly, Chrome, that's just low. You may be not one of my constructs but I care for you, too. Asimov's little game won't try to-❞

❝-[Y/N].❞

The next time you blinked, you fell into the bed. Wrists gripped above your head and the ability to talk seemed to disappear as Chrome's face hovers above you, dangerously close.

❝This is why I'm ignoring you.❞

Even in the dark, your eyes were mesmerized by the heat of Chrome's glowing and hungry gaze. Your breath was held in the way he had your hands, and the growing weight between your legs as he settled nicely there.

❝You have no idea how much you've been driving me insane. Whenever our paths meet, you make me feel like this. Whenever you're so close to me, I want to keep you right here in my arms. When I see other people talking to you, I want to take you away from them so that you can only keep your attention to me.❞

A tiny gasp escaped your lips intertwined with his low groan as you felt the lingering touch of his other free hand on your thigh, skirt rising as he lets your legs wrap around his waist. Both of your breathing became labored — the hand that was on your leg had his index now tracing the outline of your jaw, before settling on your bottom lip. His eyes were no longer on your own, instead, they were looking at your lips.

❝You make me want to do things to you like any human would want to do with someone they love.❞ His voice was now a whisper, the heat on your cheeks rising, you feared he'd notice.

❝Like what?❞ You whispered back.

Without a word, his hand was trailing down from your face to the curves of your hips, before easing to rest on your exposed thigh. You breathed a gasp as his touch felt like fire trailing on the light marks his fingers left.

❝You make me want to touch you.❞ He spoke, fingers now rising to trail on your hips, a delicate trace of aimless lines that tickled you, ❝you make me think of things that aren't supposed to be thought of.❞

Now, his fingers are on your stomach, two of them mimicking footsteps as they danced on the surface of your exposed stomach. ❝You make me want to feel you.❞

And now, his hand was back on your cheek, thoroughly cupping yours so gently. His eyes trailed back to your own. The breath you held was exhaled, in time for him to open his mouth.

❝You make me want to kiss you.❞

For what it's worth, you've always liked Chrome. For as long as you can remember.

He was always kind to you, always a gentleman. There was never a time when he was never far from you, or from the times when you've been in trouble. Chrome was always there to save you, to be with you.

Even now, with the weight of him in between your hips, and the proximity of your faces that no breath could escape the both of you as your lips were aching to be touched. You wanted no more than for him to shove himself on your needy lips.

But here we are anyways: speechless. No words could escape your lips and no kiss would happen unless you would try to do something.

But Chrome must have noticed your uncertainty, as he quickly excused himself from your warmth (and frankly, you hated the unknowing cold). His cheeks and ears were of the brightest shade of pink you've ever seen, even in the dim light.

❝C-Comandant.❞ Chrome stuttered, looking anywhere but you, ❝I'm...I really am sorry. That was wrong of me to do that. I will let you stay in my bed, and I'll be by the other room.❞

Was he leaving again? Full of frustration, you sat up and yanked him by the cuffs of his uniform as hard as you can, making him turn to look at you. Forcing your strength to drag him to your seat, you successfully switched positions: him laying on the bed, and you, enclosing him by straddling his hips.

❝Why didn't you do those, then?❞ You glared at him, ❝if you wanted to touch me, feel me, kiss me, or whatever — why didn't you?❞

The surprise in Chrome's glowing eyes gave you a sense of pride. ❝I...I was never sure you would even like that.❞

❝You...❞ the words died in your throat. His hands were now situated at the back of your thighs, squeezing them softly. ❝Then, you should have asked, you idiot.❞

❝Commandant,❞ his voice was now another whisper, ❝I'm not a human. What if I can't satisfy you as another human could?❞

This time, it was your turn to speak. Your hands wandered along the creases of his forehead, to the tip of his nose, the shape of his jaw — the urge, the need to touch was growing impatiently in your stomach and drawing a haze in your head. Especially with his own hands encouranging you in your ministrations.

❝Chrome,❞ you leaned, lips a hair's breadth away from touching his, ❝you just need to love me harder, then.❞

In the next few touches and times, there was no other words to say — only the language of unspoken love and longing for two people.

...except that the lights were finally back on.

❝Yo, captain! You never guess what kind of freaky stu- GAH?!❞

And alas, the poor soul of Kamui, who walked into a new territory, was scarred for life as he witnessed the sneak peek of his captain's private life.

At least, now — for the first time in his life, Chrome understood.

Please don't steal, copy & paste, or repost this elsewhere without credit from me!

extra a.n.: wasn't supposed to include the Kamui part but honestly, it seemed funny lmao

#punishing gray raven #pgr #punishing gray raven imagines #pgr commandant #pgr chrome #pgr chrome x reader #pgr chrome glory #pgr smut

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brienneoftarth1989 · 1 year ago

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hi, how are you? can i request a fluff with a little hint of hurt/comfort brienne x reader? The reader is like training for a war or smth (maybe for the war in the long night episode) and the reader fainted while training. Brienne sees the reader full of cuts and she takes care of her (reader). If you can't write it, it's fine! And no pressure, take your time! 😚✨️

(sorry about my sh***y grammar btw 😅)

- 🦢

Thanks for the request. Hope this is ok!

The Long Night

Brienne of Tarth x fem reader

Summary: read request

Warnings: fighting

Requests open

———————————

The White Walkers are fast approaching. You have been at Winterfell for the last couple of months after travelling down from the wall. You were the only female at the wall so you were glad you were now surrounded by some other women. There was one woman who could fight better than most men here. Her name is Brienne and you were making it your mission to get as good as her in the time you had.

You have been training every day since you arrived and you still seemed to be struggling. Even the weakest of men seem to be defeating you. You stood no chance against the White Walkers when they eventually arrive. There was also no saying when they would turn up. They could show up tomorrow or they could show up in the next couple of months.

That's why you needed to make sure your training was the best it could be because who knew when the war would start. Your day started like most others waking up in a freezing cold room. The only downside to fires is that if you don’t keep feeding them they eventually die out.

Reluctantly you pulled yourself out of your bed and plodded over to the fireplace placing some more wood and restarting the fire. At least if you started a fire now your room would be warmer when you returned to it later. You got dressed into some more suitable clothing. A basic long sleeve top and trousers were fine in your room but out there in the cold you would likely get frostbite.

Once you were dressed in a couple layers of trousers and tops plus your winter coat you were ready to venture outside so you could head to the great hall to have breakfast. Breakfast was the same everyday. A chunk of bread and a mug of watered down wine. It wasn’t exactly filling but it was better than nothing.

You sat by yourself quite happy munching on your bread and drinking your wine just watching everything that was going on around you. Then you heard a chair next to you move. You looked up to see it was one of your only friends Yorick. “Hey Yorick, how are you this morning?” you asked him as he sat down with his bread and wine.

“I’m doing good. Looking forward to training later?” he asked you. “Absolutely not. I just can’t seem to get the hang of it. I’ve been training for months and I just don’t seem to be getting much better. I can tell you I’m going to be one of the first to die” you laughed to yourself but deep down you were petrified. “Oh don’t be so hard on yourself y/n. We have time to get your training up to speed. Come on, the sooner we finish eating the sooner we can start training again” Yorick said to you.

“Thanks Yorick you always know how to make me feel better” you smiled at him as you finished eating your food. Once you had finished eating you made your way back to your room so you could get changed into your armour so you could safely train. The room was much warmer when you arrived which made your whole body relax.

Once you were changed into something more suitable you headed outside where everyone was currently waiting for training to begin. You sighed to yourself because deep down you knew how today would end up, being humiliated by everyone else.

When you did finally make it down with everyone else you just stood with Yorick waiting for the better trained men to come down and teach you the basics. “I really don’t know why you bother showing up y/n, you never seem to pick anything up from training” one of the men said while laughing at you.

“Well at least she is trying,” Yorick said, piping up coming to your defence. “Yeah but we all know that she won’t last five minutes on that battlefield, the White Walkers are coming and we need good men and women to fight in this army. If she doesn’t buck her ideas up she may as well not fight” another man laughed.

Yorick was about to say something but you grabbed his hand and pulled him away. “Hey, what's up?” he asked. “They’re right, if I don’t get better at this training then there is a high chance I’m going to die when this war officially begins.” you sighed “Come on let's start training” you said, picking up a wooden sword and carrying it over to where everyone was practising.

You are Yorick trained for a couple of hours before having a rest to have something to eat. Lunch was rabbit pottage mixed with vegetables. This you could eat every day. It was nice and filled you up. After having something to eat you, Yorick and the rest of the men and women who had been training went back outside to continue.

However when you went out you noticed a tall armoured woman standing on one of the balconies. Oh please don’t say she is going to be in charge of training this afternoon. Don’t get me wrong you like Brienne but you always managed to make yourself look like a fool in front of her and she knows it too.

“Y/n a moment of your time” Brienne called down to you. Sighing you made your way up to Brienne to listen to what she had to say. “I’m going to be observing you in training today. If I don’t see any kind of improvement we are going to have to remove you from training and assign you some place else. You have a place in this war, fighting it upfront just may not be it” she said with a gentle look on her face.

“I won’t disappoint you Brienne” you said to her making eye contact the whole time. “I hope you’re not wrong. Now off you go” she said as you then turned on your feet making your way back down to where everyone was training. Knowing that Brienne was watching makes you really put in more effort not to mess up.

All was going smoothly until they asked you to switch sparring partners. You got partnered with one of the men that was making fun of you earlier. This was just typical but you sucked it up and got on with it. You were both fighting and for once you managed to disarm your sparring partner. You smiled to yourself before looking up to Brienne who was now smiling back at you.

However with your back turned you didn’t see how annoyed your sparring partner was and he managed to grab hold of a sword that would actually do some damage to you but you didn’t notice. You started sparing again but Brienne noticed something different about your partner's sword. Just as she was about to call everyone to a halt the worst happened.

“You don’t belong here” your partner yelled before taking his sword and running the blade along your face. You don’t remember much from then on. Everything became a blur really quickly. You could feel the blood running down your face, before seeing Brienne running towards you. You felt your body become off balance and before your body even hit the floor everything had gone black.

When you finally awoke all you could feel was pain. Your hand immediately went to your face hoping it was all a dream however when you felt the gash and immediate pain following you realised this was no dream. You naturally let out a groan due to the pain and that’s when you heard someone move in the corner.

You watched as the person stood tall and you immediately knew it was Brienne. “What happened?” you groaned. “The man you were training for whatever reason decided to attack you. I thought his sword looked different but just as I was about to call everyone to a stop it was too late” she sighed looking at the nasty gash you now had over your face.

“Is it bad?” you asked Brienne sitting up slightly in your bed. “Yes y/n it is. When you passed out I took you straight to your room. I stopped the bleeding, cleaned out your wound, stitched it up and covered it the best I could to stop it from getting infected. I’ve given you milk of the poppy as well to help with the pain so if you feel sleepy that's why” she said to you standing up to leave.

“I also noticed you have quite a lot of small cuts on your body from training. I would really like you to take care of yourself. Those other cuts may be small but they too can lead to infection. Now I’m going to let you rest. I will see you tomorrow” she said but just as she was about to open the door to leave you grabbed her attention.

“Wait! I don’t want to be alone, Brienne. Can you please stay with me tonight? I’m scared that guy is going to come back and finish me off” you said, starting to sob quietly. “Oh y/n, I wouldn’t normally but considering your hurt I will tonight. As for that so-called man he is being punished for what he did to you. We need all the men and women we need right now so fuck knows why he was trying to kill you” she sighed getting fustrated.

You watched as Brienne took off her armour making herself more comfortable but still kept, oathkeeper nearby just in case anything were to happen. “I’m going to train you” Brienne blurted out. You looked up shocked.

“Really! You’re going to train me?” you asked, getting all excited. “Yes but once you have healed enough. We are limited on time but we will train one on one every morning and evening and I expect you to attend mandatory training as well” Brienne said sitting on the bed next to you.

You couldn’t help but smile “Thank you Brienne” you said as you finally felt the effects of the medication that Brienne had given you. Once Brienne knew you were asleep she tucked you in making sure you were comfortable.

But she didn’t leave. She stayed the whole night making sure the fire had wood on it and that you and your wounds were ok. She truly did care for you.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #fanfics #brienne of tarth #brienne x reader #caring #comfort #fighting #winterfell #the wall #castle black #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x y/n #the long night #brienneoftarth1989

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lilyrizzy · 2 years ago

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Omg here’s another prompt you could do a billion different things with: Max going to visit Victoria to meet Lio after his first championship in “my own cloud”

sorry this probably sucks! hope u like some parts anyway & thank you for always chatting about this au & many others with me :)

cw: hints at child abuse but nothing explicit

“Are you sure your dad isn’t going to be there?” Daniel asks, thumbnail stuffed into the corner of his mouth. When he takes the digit away, a spot of blood is stuck to his stubble.

Max tries not to roll his eyes, to ask Daniel to just stop worrying, please, because he is trying to be better about it. Daniel knowing, Max suddenly being made of glass with the way he can see right through him.

He wants to suck the raw skin surrounding Daniel's nail bed into his mouth, to lathe over the ache with his tongue until it's soothed. An apology, as much as a reminder.

“He is in Belgium,” Max tells him instead, again, foot already over the threshold of their apartment, “and Victoria is of course in Rotterdam. I think he will not make the trip until after Christmas.”

Daniel doesn't look convinced, shifting from one foot to the other before eventually stepping forward to take Max’s sleeve and tug him back from the no man’s land that anything outside of their four walls has become.

“At least give me a kiss before you go.”

On the plane, Max is less certain. Tries to convince himself that it will be okay if his dad is there, that so will Victoria and Tom and his mum too, maybe, but it does little to calm him when that never stopped anything before.

It’s over, he reminds himself. Now, I am too old.

It’s Tom that answers the door, looking exhausted. It’s the first thing Max notices about him before his eyes slide from his face to instead over his shoulder, to the pile of shoes lined in the hallway. As though that would give anything away. “Come in, mate,” he says, kind but not overly familiar. He’s older than Max, but Max pays for the house where he sleeps next to Max’s sister every night, for the car he drives. It dampened any genuine chance of friendship between them a long time ago, and Max is mostly okay with that. Taking care of his sister is what matters.

There’s that smell that reminds Max of her right from the hallway, that he remembers from when they were very small, seeping out from underneath her bedroom floor before he would knock and call for her through the wood, dinner time, Victoria. He didn’t like going into her bedroom, full of pink soft things that made his fingertips itch.

“Max!” she cries now happily from the sofa, where she looks up from the wriggling bundle in her arms. Early morning sunlight shining through the window lighting her smile up all gold, the baby soft and pink and-

“Oh, there he is,” Max says stupidly, mirroring her smile as he takes a step towards them.

She hands Lio over easily once Max has sunk into the cushions beside her, doesn’t lecture him on how to hold his head because he knows now from last time, almost one year ago to date.

He's perfect.

“You’re the world champion,” she says, voice sounding thick with tears with a hand on his shoulder, but Max can’t turn his head to look, eyes only for the bright blue ones looking up at him. A clock somewhere wound all the way back twenty four years. Twenty two. Seven.

“He is so small,” Max says in awe, and Victoria laughs.

“Max,” she says, and Max knows she wants him to talk about the race, what it felt like to win. He doesn’t want to.

“He is tiny,” he repeats, and this time she snorts.

“In my dreams, 8lb chunk that he is. He’s a Verstappen through and through.”

Her words settle like a stone in his stomach, uncomfortable and heavy. He wants to shake his head, to tell her that no, Lio can’t be. He’s too little. Instead, he strokes a finger over Lio’s brow, feeling it furrow under his touch.

“Has-“ Max swallows, “has dad been to see him yet?”

Victoria shakes her head, not diming her smile or taking her eyes away from her newborn son. Reaching out, she traces one fingertip gently over the opposite eyebrow, mirroring.

“Good,” Max says, on instinct before he can choke on the words as a way to keep them inside, and then cringes at the way it makes her head snap up, smile gone. “I just mean- Just-“

“Come on Max, this is-“ she doesn’t say the word silly, but Max knows she was about to. “You should put this disagreement, over Daniel or whatever, behind you. I know he misses you. I want us to be able to spend time together as a family again.”

Max nods, but his eyes are fixed on the lions covering Lio’s baby grow. On the front there are 15 of them, printed tiny, and Max wonders if there are so many on the back.

“Hello baby Lio,” Max says after a beat, ignoring her. “Welcome to the world.”

“Max, Dad did a lot for you,” Victoria tries again, lifting Lio out of his arms as easy as anything.

I’ve done a lot for him, Max thinks bitterly, but won’t ever say. I’ve done a lot for all of us.

#trying to write again is stupidly hard so i dont think this is show stopping or anything #but its something #max/daniel #fic #my own cloud #cw child abuse #for me and three #(max voice: tree)#other ppl

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nevereverlandboys · 3 years ago

Text

Drunken in charge

A/N: So I already posted this on wattpad a while ago. I was busy with learning for my exam, but now I finally managed to edit everything so I can post it on tumblr for those who don't read in wattpad

If you want to get tagged for my oneshots DM me ❤

Pairing: Ouat Felix x Reader

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, consuming of alcohol, swearing, really unrealistic sex scene lol, unprotected sex

Summary: Felix is being left in charge for the camp while Pan is absent, so games are off along with every other game. What is there else to do than drink? The second in command uses this opportunity to finally get closer to the reader after being so distant for a long time.

word count: 9968

The Island was harsh and cruel to everyone in an unfair but equal way. Even though the lost boys lived free on Neverland, they still were ruled by the mischievous leader named Peter Pan. Each of them had their own suffering they would not mention to anyone, rather feel the pain alone and the loneliness followed them with every step. But if someone caught Y/N's eye the most, it was the quiet second in command, Felix. He always stayed close to his leader and would always follow his command. His cold facade never told her a single thought, making him special in his own way. He would leave the girl alone and only joined her on missions, but even then, the second in command would remain quiet. Pan on the other hand, tormented Y/N with thousands of useless tasks, while the lost boys worked on their own duties that seemed to make way more fun. No matter how hard she tried, Y/N would never fit in the group of lost boys, their name alone excluded her. None of them treated her fair, always left her out and acted like she was their servant. At first, the boys all seemed curious, and also a little intrigued about her appearance. They wondered why the shadow brought a girl to Neverland and if she would stay forever or just for a while. Their vicious behavior scared her off the first days, keeping her distance in a small tent. There was nothing special about Y/N, and she wondered why Pan brought her here from the beginning. Soon they boys learned that as well, treating her harshly like everybody else. They mocked her for being too weak, being too emotional,- they mocked her for not being a boy. After a while Y/N stopped asking questions and simply agreed to her new life. There were many good things to mention, nothing here was all bad. No one cared about her exploring the island during the day, at least if she did not go too far. If she wanted to cook for herself, there was no one in the way, and if she wanted to read in her tent, they would not enter- also because she was definitely sure Pan forbat it. The lost boy's feared and loved their leader at the same time, the way he let them live the free life they always wanted and not even seeing how dangerous it could be had convinced them. Y/N had distanced herself from them and their cruelty, rarely appeared to any big occasion and rather traveled along the river that ran it's way through the meadow and pastures. It was a surprise when one boy asked her one day to join a game, leaving her startled and unable to answer since no one ever really attempted to talk to the girl. It woke a piece of hope inside her, some of the younger boys already liked Y/N, yet, there was always something suspicious around the older ones.

"C'mon!" The thin boy yelled excitedly and waved his hands through the air, gesturing to follow him.

"This will be fun!"

Y/N avoided the demanding boy and tilted her head while her eyes wandered through the group before they stopped at the second in command, his eyes already burning on her skin when she detected him on his log, not far. His gaze made her nervous, uncomfortable and she questioned the decision to join the game. Something inside her shook the thought off, that Felix would approach her one day for some other reason than Pan made him, or that he would ask her to join a game.

"No…" Y/N answered nervously and looked back to the lost boy, trying to ignore Felix in the back. She did not trust that boy the slightest.

"I have to clean the kitchen." She lied and dropped her gaze to the ground. The boy left as quickly as he came, not even trying to convince her further as if the interest was faked like everything else on this Island. After a while she sat alone in silence, watching the smaller boys play with sticks and some older ones preparing some meat and stickbread for the bonfire. The feeling of being watched did not let go. Y/N tried her best not to look suspicious and quickly let her eyes wander further when she found the guilty boy, Felix.

Why is he still staring at me?

She never found out. The boy stayed exactly where he was and so did Y/N. He would constantly steal a glimpse and for a moment goosebumps spread all over her body, as butterflies rumbled in her stomach. A few days went on and she had catched the second in command staring at her over and over again. Whenever she looked at him, he quickly shifted his eyes somewhere in hope not to be catched. Sitting at the dining table she would catch him, when she did the laundry or cooked in the humble kitchen. The lost boy woke some curiosity inside the girl, the urgent need to know why he would always steal a glimpse, whenever she walked by. He never slipped a nasty comment, definitely strange compared to the other lost boys and their vivid temper. He never approached her or tried to keep up a conversation either. As soon as the sun went down, Pan appeared in front of Y/N's tent, calling her to come out and get some firewood. His second in command stood not far, leaning against the bark of a tree and chewing on a toothpick. He didn't need to wait for his leader's command, already knowing he had to join her.

"Be quick." Pan ordered sternly, pressing his brows together before strutting back to the other boys. Her eyes instantly shifted over to the lanky, blonde boy, a smirk plastered on his pale face. If Pan knew that this was not a good idea? Felix turned on his heels and led the way through the trees uphill where the bushes covered the edges down to the abyss, not looking back once.

"C'mon, girlie." He said.

'Don't call me that!' She snapped back and paced up. The lost boy's camp disappeared on the ground, the higher Y/N followed the path before Felix stopped in front of a dark forest, the leaves swallowing every light before it could touch the ground.

"Princess." Felix corrected cockily, watching her step between the trees. She started to blush and was unable to say something, so she decided to simply ignore the giant boy's nickname for her, no matter how flattering his words seemed. She tried to act tough, tougher than she actually was, in hope he would recognise it.

"How in the hell should we get wood in the dark?' Y/N mumbled as she stared into the pitch black.

"Are you scared?" Felix teased and gave her a smirk. His voice was deep and rough, unsettling but still going like honey through her ears. The girl scoffed at him and rolled her eyes, then led the way with firm steps, not even seeing the ground and suddenly tripping over into a mess of wood.

"Fuck!" She hissed and held her hands to check the unbruised skin. The lost boy started to laugh darkly to himself, before he stepped closer.

"This wood is full of chunks." Felix explained and bent down to pick up the wood. Y/N rose to her feet and grabbed some wood, not saying another word. Felix remained silent as well, heading with heavy back to the camp. After a while he stopped and turned, watched if she could catch up and continued when the girl was close enough. All the time she wanted to talk to him, using the moment all alone with him, but as she hurried to follow the second in command, no single idea for a conversation came to her mind. It was like someone wiped every thought away and replaced it with the heavy drumming of her heartbeat. As soon as she reached the clearing, Felix dropped the wood onto the ground and left them for the other boys to take care of it. Her chunks landed right next to his and she paced up to catch up with the gloomy second in command, when a tight grip on the girl's wrist stopped her.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Y/N tilted her head and faced Dave, a tall chubby boy with messy brown hair, his eyes dark and soft like marbles. The lost boy looked like a bear, warm and welcoming, nevertheless it were his words that often scared her off. He only had nasty comments for Y/N, threats and if Pan wouldn't protect her for being a weak girl, the lost boy would probably harm her physically as well.

"The potatoes won't cook themselves!" Dave barked and pushed her harshly away before his eyes wandered over to the kitchen tent. Y/N bit her tongue to stop slipping a nasty comment, marched over to the humble kitchen and let out a growl when she saw the mess inside.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She whined as her eyes wandered over the dirty pots and Pan's, knives and forks along with every spoon. At least it was not stinking and disgusting, easy to wash, yet an avoidable effort if every boy would clean after themselves. But why should they? They had Y/N. Deciding to only clean the essential goods and shoving the other things aside, she opened a little basket with potatoes in it and placed them on the little counter. Like she expected, no one came to help her during the cooking, only one boy showed up to ask if she could hurry up. The same boy did not even thank her when she finally gave them the cooked potatoes half an hour later. The selfish behaviour of these boys was the thing Y/N hated most, more reason to focus on the second in command, the only boy who had never shown her this nasty attitude. While every other boy slowly gathered around the bonfire after they ate, Felix stayed where he was. He did not dance like the others and Y/N was not even sure if he could hear what the boys claimed to hear. Pan once said, his flute was special and the girl was supposed to hear her too. None of them had an explanation, still, it did not seem like the first time for Pan, seeing something like this.

The girl's eyes darted back to Felix, his eyes already burning on her skin and she instantly moved her head to make it look less obvious. The tempting idea of walking over to him burned inside her guts, but with all those boys around, she was like being frozen in place. The second in command never talked to her when it was not necessary, not even one muscle in his face twitched when he interacted with the others. Still, something inside Y/N pulled her towards him from the beginning, as if his attempt to block her out was even more tempting. When she distanced herself from the bonfire back to her tent, Felix stayed at his seat instead of following her like she had imagined he would do. A little disappointed she went to bed and kept twirling all her thoughts around the mysterious second in command. There were so many questions about him. No one ever understood Felix, maybe not even Pan, although they were closer to each other than no one else on this whole Island.

The following days Pan left Felix in charge, going on a mission by himself. The absence of Neverland's leader made itself noticeable first, when the lost boys stopped playing their big games and went directly to their duties, almost no words slipping from their usually loud mouths as they worked in silence. The day had started boring for everyone on it, Pan was already away for a few days, so Felix was fully in charge. Games were off, along with parties and especially dances in the evening. If Y/N could tell, the dances were the most annoying thing to the second in command, the thing he hated the most. Felix did not like the idea of taking care of anybody else but himself. So it came that even after weeks, Y/N had barely exchanged some words with him. He would simply avoid her and in case of sharing a task, just stare at her in curiosity. It was a lie to say he did not make her nervous, even when it was not in a scary way. The second in command was weird in any way and whenever he built himself up in front of her, she and broad, he made her look even shorter than she actually was. A feeling almost pleasant instead of scary. It was like something pulled her towards the cold lost boy, but the lack of courage would not let her talk to him. If he felt the same?

Felix was intimidating to look at, it was like something was wrong with his face but Y/N could never tell what. His high pitched cheeks were sharp and narrow and there was an awful scar running along his left cheek up to his brows like an 'x'. The most creepy things were his eyes though, whenever she looked into them, she was willingly drowning in a cold puddle that dragged her deeper in. They pierced her, as if he knew every secret inside the girl's head. Nevertheless, he was not ugly, rather pretty to look at. When his blonde hair hung messy over his face and the way he smelled. Whenever she walked past him, she would smell pinewood and musk. Even though he was well known for his cruelty, the lost boy never raised his hand against Y/N, nor called her nasty things like the others did. She was not even sure on how to do it anyways. Felix always looked busy or like he did not want anyone to speak to him. When she thought of it, the girl could not remember one single boy really talking to the second in command except Pan, but then again,- they only talked about plans and other secrets. He was a mystery of his own, a riddle for Y/N to solve. She glanced over to him and saw that he was carving something into a piece of wood. The lanky lost boy had distanced himself from the other boys, having his seat on a log as closest to the forest as possible. Maybe she could strike a conversation about his passion for carving? He was doing that almost everyday without talking about it and when she thought about it, she had never seen the final results. After a while, courage overcame her, so she stood up and walked slowly into Felix's direction, already noticing in the corner of her eyes the disapproving and concerned looks of some boys. They started to talk quietly to each other and she instantly knew it was about her. Their eyes burned more on Y/N's skin with each step further towards Felix, making her feel nervous and jumpy. Rolling with her eyes at them, she still marched to the lanky blonde boy, stopping when she was close enough to him. The heads of the lost boys instantly shot away, as if they felt too scared to let Felix know about their curiosity when he lifted his heavy head from his broad shoulders.

Felix's eyes darted up, his mouth shut tight and his facial expression went blank like always. His look told Y/N that he was strong, but never how he felt. She tried to say something, but the words got stuck in her throat. Unable to speak, she stared with a deadpan face back at the second in command, trying to find an excuse for her behaviour. The idea with the wood seemed so dumb suddenly and she wished she could just melt into the ground or simply disappear as the lost boy stared back at her, locking their eyes and waiting for her to say something.

"Have you seen Pan?" Y/N choked out and sounded calmer than she expected to be. The blonde boy raised an eyebrow suspiciously and nodded behind him into the dark forest. Big trees hovered high up into the sky, all around the clearing, hiding every view. It was pitch black. Y/N swallowed at the sight of the dark woods and she shook her head slowly, feeling so scared of the unknown dangers. There was no reason for her to see Pan, the leader was not a pleasant person himself and the lie only made her more anxious.

"I think it wasn't important anyways." She mumbled unsure and turned around, feeling how her whole face heatened up at the fact that she talked to the mysterious second in command. Suddenly, the tall boy grabbed her by the wrist, causing her to turn and face him again.

"I'll bring you to him, if you feel scared to go alone." He said dry and rose to his feet, tall and intimidating. The girl was so small next to him, peeking up to him again as her limbs lightly started to tremble. Felix glanced down at her and again, she shook her head slowly. The girl did not know if he simply did not notice it, but when the lost boy shoved her into the pitch black, terror overcame her. What was he doing? Not daring to say a word, before the light around her vanished, she only felt the lost boy's hand on her back as he pushed her gently forwards. Her heart was pounding so hard, she feared he might feel it. Where the hell would he bring her? Where was Pan all the time?

"Don't." Y/N winced and turned on her heels, running past Felix back into the camp. The lost boy instantly jumped around and stormed after her, chasing her across the clearing towards some big trees. She tripped over one of their big roots, almost crashing down but still finding her balance. This was the moment Felix jumped at the girl, crashing down with her, his heavy weight pressing the air out of her lungs. The lost boy spun her around and pinned her arms down on the floor before she could take a sharp inhale. Y/N tried to free herself in panic, but she could not move at all, when the slender boy straddled her and held her down. The colours in Y/N's face faded away and her heart pumped wild inside her as if it were about to explode, unable to tell if she felt excited or scared. Maybe a healthy mix of both. She was sure he did not want to hurt her. Frankly, he never did.

"Why in the hell are you running from me." He asked angry, slightly confused and she thought even a bit hurt as he pressed his brows strictly together.

"Don’t hurt me." She muttered and the pale boy frowned. He loosened his grip and swiftly rose to his feet and pulled his hood back over his head, then strutted quickly away, not even giving her a last glance.

That was strange, she thought. Her heart was still beating furiously. What happened? The lost boy scared her and made her feel like burning at the same time. She took a deep breath and raised to her feet, wiping the dirt off her clothes. Felix was a strange guy and he only confused Y/N. Why did he just stand up and leave? She was not dumb and clearly could add two and two together. But it could not be that the second in command had some interest in her, why should he? The boy barely spoke to the girl, even when they had chores together. Y/N remembered one of the first days, when Pan sent them both to get some dreamshade and the tall blonde did not even let her near one of those plants, not even mentioning why. When he held the filled glasses, the boy walked a big distance between her back to camp, giving her the feeling of not being wanted. Later she had learned the dangers of it and Felix's strange behaviour now. It was an easy addition but she needed to be sure, not even knowing how to deal with this information.

If I am right.

The next day Felix clearly avoided her. Whenever he felt like she was too close, the lost boy would quickly find another place to go. She did not want to ask any of the boys about it, not wanting them to know, but it was obviously something off. They would not answer her anyways, only giving her questioning looks. After that weird situation in the evening before, the second in command completely vanished. There was no big effort to look for him and when the girl went to bed, she completely forgot about him. He had not given her any duties yet, so she took her chance and left the camp to take a shower and later gather some fruits and seeds, everything edible the Island would offer her without having to kill. She did not know how to hunt and was not sure if she could even catch an animal. Peter once told her that his best man would teach her to hunt, but Felix always seemed to be so busy that she simply never asked him to. At first she had avoided the blonde, lanky boy, not knowing his temper. He had scared her so much but now she could not stop thinking of how he had straddled her and how much she liked it. This was stupid. She barely knew Felix and still Y/N pictured herself with him in so many daydreams now. It was always easier to dream about someone and she was not crazy enough to consider anything about the rough boy. But where would he be? What is he doing right now? God, she needed to stop thinking about Felix. She was overthinking.

The time passed by and Y/N found herself at the clearing again, watching two boys fight in the distance, with a small crowd around to cheer their violence. Her eyes wandered over the whole area, searching for the second in command. He sat far away next to a few older lost boys that hollered around while drinking some rum. Since Felix would not let them do anything, the only possible solution for the boys was to drink and do stupid things that would not bother the tall scarred one. They were drinking more alcohol than any adult could ever handle. The girl's eyes shifted over the group, seeing how they stumbled and swayed around. Felix sat on a log with his own bottle of rum in his hands, he kept his distance from the other boys, observing them with a blank expression but it was visible that he was drunk, too. When he saw Y/N entering the camp, the second in command's head spun around, meeting her gaze and she could swear his face lightened up.

"Y/N!" Someone big yelled excitedly and jumped at her from the side, almost swaying her off her feet before she could even think of the name "Felix".

"Drink with us!" The chubby boy cheered with a dizzy voice. His dark, bushy eyebrows hung deep over his small eyes and he wrinkled his nose, making a nasty, slimy sound, reminding her of a mull. He was not pretty to look at, mean and vicious, sometimes insulting for no reason. He was that kind of a boy who would mock one and still complain when they did not want to be his friend.

"No, tha-"

"DRINK!" The chubby boy repeated himself more aggressively and grabbed Y/N's wrist to stop her from leaving before she could even try getting away. His fat fingers would definitely leave a mark later as she furiously tried to yank herself free.

"YOU ARE HURTING ME!" Y/N whined and buried her nails into his wrist, but the lost boy would not let go.

"It will be fun! Don't be such a lame ass." He gave back and tightened his grip. Felix, who had watched the whole scene from a distance, immediately jumped to his feet and stormed towards them, yanking the boy away and threw him violently into the mud. He gave him the most powerful kick that his anger would provoke, that the sound of the fat lost boy's scream caught everyone's attention.

"I will snap your fucking neck!" Felix threatened so calmly that the other boys would not even hear it as he pressed his jaw together, his hands forming into fists that his knuckles turned white. The chubby moonface groaned dizzy and turned onto his stomach, trying to lift himself drunkenly out of the sludge. With a closer look, Y/N understood why they all called him Piggy, instead of Mull. He turned his head confused around before he would drop back onto the ground again. The girl's eyes widened at the sight of this cruelty, even though she felt relieved and maybe a little entertained to see Piggy like this. He truly deserved it. On the other hand, she wondered why Felix came so quickly to help after he had tried his best to get out of her way. Y/N's cheeks burned up and she knew it would be the perfect moment to talk to him.

"Go." Felix said. He turned to her and shoved her gently away from the boys towards the tents. His big hand warmed her comfortably on her back, waking the butterflies in her stomach and causing her to shiver. The second in command rested one one of his arms on the girl's shoulder to keep his balance as he swayed between the tall bushes forwards between the trees.

"You should go to sleep." The lost boy said huskily, stopping in front of her tent, his grey eyes staring at the closed curtains. The excitement inside Y/N turned into disappointment when she saw where this actually went, so she stared irritated at the tent as Felix pulled his arm away and stepped away, slowly heading back.

"I am not tired!" Y/N gave back and knitted her brows together, confused why he just left her now. He could have stayed at the camp instead of joining her in the first place. Why come all this way up here? Felix's head spun around before turning back to stop right in front of the girl. He bent down to face her and made it possible to smell the alcohol in his breath as she stared into his gray eyes illuminated by the pale moonlight. The messy, ashen hair hung half over his face,- Y/N liked so many things about him and right now he was so perfect. He has never been that close before, except when he had tackled her.

"The boys aren't so well behaved," The second in command snickered. "Especially not in that state."

Y/N giggled when she thought of Felix acting like he was a good boy, after all those terrible things he did. There was a reason why he was second in command of this brutal gang and he proved it by the way he treated Piggy.

"And you're not?" She gave back quite bravely, raising an eyebrow cockily. Felix chuckled low to himself, slightly shaking his head before he gave her a smirk, showing his white palette of perfectly lined up teeth.

"If you want me to," Felix purred and wiggled with his brows. "I'll be whatever you want."

The girl felt goosebumps spread all over her body at his words and for a moment, she just stared speechless back at him, unable to say a word and wanting nothing more than kissing those pink lips. Felix was drunk, he could not think straight and definitely did not mean what he said. The lost boy's breath tickled hers and she noticed how close he was and how she just had to lean in, to steal a kiss. There was no way she would risk it, well aware that Pan loved games and she could not let the thought go, his best man would love them as well.

"Do you have any suggestions?" She asked as her nose touched his, her lips almost on his as she gently ran her hands over his chest. Felix ignored the question, moving instinctively and rough, grabbing Y/N's neck and pulling her in to close the distance between their mouths. His tongue was warm and tasted like liquor, still it did not bother her at all, when he vividly explored the inside of her mouth. Felix's hands vanished under her hair, grabbing her head and pressing the girl firmer against him while his intoxicated mind led his actions. Y/N gasped surprised into the kiss, not expecting him to do this even though it was what she wished for. Felix was way taller than her and for the moment he was forced to bend down at her height, holding her in his broad arms that pressed her tightly against his chest. When Felix’s pulled away, his eyes were still shut and he ran his thumb over Y/N's lips, licking his own and let out a gasp when he realised that he did not only imagined to do that. Then his eyes widened and she could see that he realised for the first time what just happened, what he just did.

"Sorry…" Felix mumbled unbelievingly and shook his head with widened eyes. He pushed her harshly away and rose to his feet, quickly checking full terror if someone had watched it.

"I was-" Felix spoke hoarse and slowly took a step back, then another one, a few more, until he turned on his heels and sprinted quickly away, not finishing what he tried to say.

Y/N stood there for a moment as if she were stuck in place, not able to process what just happened. With a swift movement she stormed through the curtains of her tent towards her bed to hide under the covers. She grabbed a pillow, held it against her face and screamed inside it. It was hard to tell if she felt excited or embarrassed. Felix kissed her, so why should she be worried about something? Maybe it was a test and she failed? Hell no, that would be some serious bullshit if that were the first explanation and she had seen his reaction. The way he held her and how he tasted heatened her up. Every cell inside her body craved for more.

No, what are you doing, she thought and shook her head, replaying that scenario in her head over and over again like a broken record. With a swift move she rolled onto her back and stared up at the curtain ceiling, hoping to find an answer to what her next step could be. If the lost boys would find out, they would never stop talking about it, maybe even start to think she was easy to have. Y/N gulped and squinted her eyes at the thought of them all trying to hit on her. Felix was different though. He was tall and intimidating, his cold stare would pierce through her with a burning desire and his smell intoxicated her mind. Whenever he was around, she could barely think straight, desperately wanting to figure out what laid beneath that cold facade. Never in a thousand years, she could have guessed that he liked her back. On the other hand, he was not able to make proper decisions drunkenly and maybe Y/N was encouraging herself too much. There was almost nothing she knew about the tall boy and falling for him that fast could only harm herself in the end.

Y/N closed her eyes and brought her fingers to her lips, touching them, while imaging to feel Felix's on them again and remember what they tasted like. The second in command barely spoke to her and now that? There was definitely more behind it. It had to. Her other hand slowly wandered over her stomach to pull up the dress, slipping a finger inside to play with herself. It was not the first time she thought of him while touching herself, but this time something was off. Deep inside her something stopped Y/N, no matter how aroused she already was. She needed to talk to Felix. Under no circumstances she would let him ignore her for days again. Yanking the blanket away, Y/N jumped out of the bed and eagerly left the tent, turning her head furiously around to find the tall boy. He did not sit next to the others anymore and when she walked downhill to his cabin, she could feel her heart pumping furiously inside her chest. The girl stopped in front of the wooden door to knock and when no one answered she knocked again.

"Felix!" She tried to be as loud as she could be while still not attracting someone else's attention. There was still no answer and she felt dumb for even thinking it was as easy as this to find him after the previous events. He could not be far, the lost boys still needed someone who had an eye on them before someone could get hurt. Their hollering was still audible and the bonfire in the distance let Y/N see a few of them behind the bushes. For a moment she thought of going back to the clearing again, hoping to find Felix there, but the thought of meeting Piggy alone now was no good.

"Y/N." The girl suddenly heard Felix’s raspy voice behind her and she turned dazzled around, the warmest smile sitting on her lips.

Felix swayed dizzily into her direction, closing the gap between them two while he tried to keep his balance. The lost boy's head was too high up, making it impossible to steal a kiss from him now.

"What are you doing here? I told you to sleep." He asked nervously and pulled her away from his cabin towards the trees, his head constantly turning to look if someone watched. When he placed his hand on the girl's back again, his touch sent electric waves through her spine and she wondered how his slender finger would feel on her bare skin.

"Did you drink more?" She asked, noticing how he swayed more and the second in command vividly shook his head in response, grinning like a small boy on a sunny day.

"You have."

"No."

"Yes."

"Uh-Uh."

"I can cleanly tell-"

"I am-," Felix grabbed Y/N gently by the back of her neck and pulled her in, his face coming closer again. "-Not. Drunk."

She started to laugh and leaned into his grip, bringing her own hand up to touch his scar. Felix's blue eyes melted when he felt her fingers, closing them and relaxing as her touch traced as light as a feather down his skin. He relaxed for a moment and enjoyed the touch on his scarred skin, before he suddenly woke out of trance.

"The boys better not see us." He cleared his throat and broke apart, letting go of her.

"No one saw us, Felix." His name echoed through the dark forest like honey and Y/N grabbed his hand tight- she was way smaller than his. The girl felt Felix's breath in her face, how his nose almost touched hers and before he could do anything she had already closed the gap between them two, pressing her lips against his. Felix moaned surprised into her mouth but instantly grabbed her cheeks and slid his tongue inside. She could still taste the liquor and wondered if she might have taken advantage of this situation. The tall boy's moans told her otherwise. He moved his hands slowly towards the girl's waist down to her ass, cupping it rough while her smell intoxicated his senses.

"We shouldn't." He whispered and she heard him move even though it was too dark to see. Nevertheless Felix pressed himself harder against her and she felt through his pants how hard he already was from only kissing.

"Why not." She breathed against his neck, leaving a trail of kisses.

"The boys," Felix said, his eyes rolling back with a soft moan when he felt her tongue on his throat. It was enough to convince the second in command, his fingers wandered over her delicate body, burying them inside her tender flesh. It's been a long time since someone touched Y/N and she could not resist the lost boy's demanding hands. He lifted her dress and wandered with his palm over her skin to the rim of the underwear, enjoying the small moans when his fingers wandered further to her inner thigh, drawing invisible circles on it.

"Felix…" His grip tightened when he heard the girl purr his sweet name in the most delicious way and he almost could not hold himself back to tear her clothes off right at this place. The lost boy dared to slip one of his fingers inside Y/N's panties and when she did not complain, he pushed his slender index inside of her, feeling how her soft walls tightened around him. If Felix had not realised it earlier, he knew at least by now how much she craved him when he felt how wet she already was. Y/N let out a gasp when he started to push his long finger in and out of her, causing the girl's legs to tremble and her knees to shiver in excitement. She closed her eyes, giving up trying to see something in the dark as she melted into Felix's arms, her face sliding down onto his shoulder. She found her balance by grabbing the lost boy's leg and then she realised that he was kneeling in front of her. Y/N was actually glad that the surroundings were pitch black, feeling her cheeks heating up in embarrassment from her uncontrollable sweet moans. Before she would absolutely lose her mind, the girl managed to push the lost boy slightly away from her while her hands moved down to his belt. Her fingertips ran over the leather and the lost boy instantly frowned at her touch, his whole body stiffened and he stopped moving for a second.

"W-wait." He stammered, the adrenaline pushing the dizziness of the alcohol away. "I-I… never…" he continued and stopped, his hands wrapped around Y/N's wrist, insecurities overwhelming him as he held her in a safe distance. Now she really wished to see his face, well aware that he must look like earlier when he kissed her, startled and somehow shy.

"Well," she replied after a small pause, her voice echoing clear through the night, "Neither have I."

There was an awkward silence between them two and if the lost boy would not hold her by her hips, she would probably believe he was gone by now. The second in command was embarrassed for no reason, what did he fear? Y/N had no clue how to do this and if she was honest, it was way more appealing that Felix was a virgin, too, even though she did not expect that. All the time she thought he was so confident and now he was so vulnerable to her. The lost boy still did not speak, so she bent into another kiss, hoping to catch his lips in the dark. Felix gasped when he felt her lips on his scar and pulled the girl back in. This was good, they did not need to talk- should not talk. It would only make this weird. Talking would come naturally. Felix grabbed Y/N's hands gently and brought them back to his belt for her to continue what she had started. She let her fingers trail over the leather to his buckle to open it, enjoying the moment when she opened the button of his pants and slowly pulled down his zipper. The lost boy moaned inside her mouth when she slid her hand into his pants, pumping his hardened cock as best as the tight cotton would allow her to. Felix noticed her struggle and broke apart from the kiss to lift himself up and take off his clothes. Y/N heard how each piece of clothing dropped onto the ground while she waited to be told to do the same.

"Should I keep my dress on or-"

"Keep it on." Felix ordered and chuckled to himself, then pulled her back against him, his cock pressing against her stomach. The lost boy let his hands slide under the girl's dress and pulled down her panties for more access, then kneeled naked in front of her while his fingers did their magic. They felt so long and strange, making Y/N wonder if she could even handle Felix's cock. He already felt so big in her hand when she touched him again, fully exposed and hardened. The lost boy lifted one of her legs over his broad shoulder and before Y/N could even figure out what he was doing, Felix pressed his tongue against her clit. She let out a surprised gasp and giggled at the ticklish sensation. The lost boy felt how tense her leg was and reached for the girl's hand, holding it and drawing invisible circles on her palm.

"Relax." He lifted his head and lightly squeezed her fingers, caressing it a little, then pushed his mouth against her slit, his hot breath warming her as his tongue slid over her clit. The comfort of his touch relaxed Y/N instantly as if the lost boy had enchanted her somehow. He pressed his rough tongue harder against her, burying his face between her legs as he ate her out. The girl could not control herself to keep her from moaning, but led the boy's pace with it, whenever something felt good. He buried his nails into the tender flesh of her thighs and with a swift move he pushed the girl down onto the ground, pushing his fingers faster into her. She could not tell which was tongue or fingers, the overflowing sensation spread inside her body up to her eyes as she felt how she got closer to her orgasm. When Felix’s jaw started to ache he broke apart, breathing heavily and leaving Y/N craving for more on the cold ground in the exact moment she would almost finish. Without saying a word the lost boy pulled himself up to her, placing some sloppy kisses on her mouth before placing his arms next to her, so that his weight would not be too much.

"I want you so much." He panted while he slowly let his thumb circle over her aroused clit.

"Felix-" She pressed her lips onto his and stroked his hardened dick and pulled his torso closer to lead him to her wet entrance. The lost boy let out an uncontrollable moan as he pressed his dick against her dripping slit that already craved him so hard, slowly gliding in to make the girl feel every piece of his mighty cock. He stayed in this position for a moment to adjust this feeling and Y/N felt herself tighten around him, excitement overwhelming her body along with the smell of the lost boy intoxicating her mind.

"Fuck!" Felix hissed as he started to move in a steady motion. His lips caught her once more, pulling her into a long, passionate kiss. Y/N took a sharp breath and pushed her hand against his abdomen, when the lost boy moved, feeling like getting torn apart by him. The lost boy stopped for a moment, shoving one arm under her neck to hold her while his lips softly traced over her chest. After a short moment, Felix moved again. Y/N buried her nails into his skin and rolled her eyes back as the lost boy thrusted into her core, slowly feeling herself relaxing in this position after a few strokes. The pain faded away and she melted into Felix's body as if he was meant to hold her. The sweetest words kept unsaid, too embarrassing, too emotional, still, there was something inside them both that felt more than just enjoying sex. It was Felix who took her virginity and the thought of being the one who took his let her heart skip faster. The second in command felt like a dream,- his sweaty, hot skin pressed tight against hers, his abs flexed and hardened during every move and he was just so fucking tall. Felix moved both of his hands down and cupped her naked butt, lifting Y/N up and pressing her against the bark of a tree. He buried his fingers into her tender flesh and left a trail of kisses on her neck as far as he would reach her. The lost boy held Y/N as if she weighed nothing, pressing her body tightly against his skin. She could not resist sinking her teeth into his neck, sucking on the delicate spot until she was sure he would not leave without a mark. As soon as Felix realised what she was doing, he pulled her head back by her hair. To his own surprise, she let out a light moan, feeling even more excited from his big hand in them.

"The boys can't know." Felix purred into Y/N's ear before he licked over her neck, sinking his teeth lightly into her shoulder to hold him back from letting out another moan.

"Harder!" The girl commanded for Felix's surprise, who had already thought he was already being too rough with her. The lost boy followed the order, pressing himself tighter against her before he paced up, pumping in and out. The sudden sensation flooded Y/N's body and she knew there was something building up inside her, an indescribable feeling of being high. Felix moans got higher, sometimes even stuck in his throat and she was sure he was close too and that he desperately wanted to climax. Before she could realise it, Felix swayed them back onto the ground, gripping her ankles and pressing them against his legs as she wrapped her arms around his neck to capture the lost boy in another kiss.

"I am almost-" Felix spoke in a hoarse tone. It was so dark and Y/M really wished she could see his face at this moment. Felix was so vulnerable right now and even though his moans were the most beautiful melody in her ears, just the thought of a short glimpse of his face made her feel hotter.

"Felix." She purred when he suddenly hit a spot that would not stop making her feel like being on ecstasy.

"I-." She gasped when the knot inside her stomach released and she felt her orgasm roaring through her body with thousands of tiny, electric waves. Jaw clenched and eyes pinched, Felix gave it to her in short, powerful bursts, filling her up with throbbing pumps. His abs flexed and his hands tightened around her ankles. He cursed. His body tensed, and she swore she felt his cock pulsing inside of her as he came in waves, thrusting in and out until he felt himself getting soft.

"Fuck…" Felix let her legs fall to the side as he bent to rest his head on her sweaty chest. "That was…"

She combed her fingers through his messy hair, almost out of words how incredibly good she felt. "That was something."

"Yeah." He kissed the spot between her breasts, "It was."

Felix pulled his dick out, not even seeing the mess he made but still wanting more. Neither of them wanted that night to end and for a while, Felix tried to find his clothes and Y/N thought of how she would clean herself up.

"C'mon." Felix whispered and she heard him step away.

"Wait!" Y/N called and quickly grabbed her underwear- well, the only choice right now-, cleaning herself with it, before running after the tall blonde and crashing into his back.

"Easy, love." He chuckled and grabbed her under one of his arms and strutted towards the dark in one direction, knowing this place perfectly, even drunkenly and without light.

"Where are we going?" The girl asked after what felt like an eternity for her, but in reality it was just a few minutes. The trees left some space for the moonlight now and gave her a chance to take a peak from the second in command's happy face. His cheeks were dyed a deep scarlet and his hair hung messy and full sweat down his face.

"Trust me." He said and paced a little up before he came to halt in front of a big tree, the ladder up to it vanished behind some leaves. Felix climbed up first and lifted the girl up into the tree house when reached the trap door. Felix moved towards a small night desk and lit up a candle. As soon as the light flooded the room, Y/N saw the small cot and a self-made desk under one of the closed windows.

"I built it myself." The lost boy grinned and proudly watched the awe in her face. She swirled around and looked at some little carvings that were placed on the wooden table. Some of them looked like her. When Y/N's eyes detected the little sculpture, she finally understood why she never saw the results and why he burned one earlier. The girl turned around to say something, but Felix stopped her immediately. Before she could say anything, Felix dropped down onto one knee and pulled her into a kiss. His tongue slid over her lips, begging for permission to enter. Without thinking about it, she opened her mouth and felt the lost boy's hand on her hips, pressing her against his body.

"I never thought you would like me too." Felix moaned and eagerly kissed his way down her neck, back to her face and lips, repeating the same thing on the other side and showing how hungry he still was for the girl. Felix clearly had not been touched in a while, just like Y/N, so it was quite natural that they immediately would have a moment like this sooner or later. But why Felix? What was about him that made Y/N constantly crave more, causing her to feel like an addict without his drugs, whenever his lips left hers? Her cheeks heated up and she smiled in the kiss, thinking of the previous events, how Felix's hands felt on her skin. It was special to be with him and the girl's instincts told her that it was more than just sex, that Felix wanted more, too.

"I want you again." Felix licked over his lips and looked at Y/N through half-opened eyes before he slowly melted back into another kiss, this time slow and passionate, synchronising with her while his hands moved down her hips and legs. He gently rubbed his hand against her inner thigh and wandered towards her crotch, to shove a finger inside her still wet hole. He smirked dirty when he felt his mess. Y/N wanted him so much, just like he craved her, maybe even a little more.

"I want to get naked all night long." Felix purred as he pushed his fingers inside and out of Y/N, her light moans echoing in his ears. Without further commands, the girl slipped the dress over her shoulder, letting it elegantly slide down her now exposed body. Felix's cheeks flushed up into the deepest red, his eyes admiring every sight of her that he desired for so long, and truth be told, he was in awe. When the cotton touched the floor, the lost boy grabbed for the hem of his own shirt and ripped it off, then quickly unbuttoned his pants before he crossed them with his underwear through the room. When Felix pinned her down and pulled Y/N into another kiss, he was already hard again, his hot skin burning against hers as her mind drifted off into a feeling of ecstasy. The way Felix's hands trailed down her body gave her chills once more, kept her warm and made her feel wanted.

"Pan would kill us for this." She mumbled into the kiss when the girl thought of how he protected her earlier, something he never did before and sure did not keep unnoticed to the other boys as well. It worried Y/N for a moment, thinking about how Pan always found out every secret, no matter how little it was. And this was definitely not a small secret, something that could be obvious to others. Or maybe Y/N was just paranoid.

"Relax." Felix said, frowning at her words as if the same thought had bothered him for a while now, too. "He isn't here. He won't find out."

The blonde boy rolled over onto his back, pulling the girl with him so she would straddle him. The light of the candle danced over his sharp features, letting it shine in an orange light that spread down to his muscles, constantly catching her eyes as if they were glued on him. Felix always looked beautiful in the orange light of the fire. Every night she would catch herself staring at him. He was perfect.

"You look so beautiful." Felix whispered more to himself than to her, then wiped some hair out of her face. "Unbelievable that someone like you chose someone weird like me."

Before Y/N could correct him, the second in command already captured her lips with his own, burying one hand in her hair while he kneaded one of her breasts with the other one. His words only flattered the girl and she felt the burning desire to finally be one with him again and melt into his body. Felix gasped at her touch and moaned into her mouth when she wrapped her hand around his dick, slowly pumping up and down while gently rubbing at the delicate tip. His member felt long and thick in her hands, but did not scare her off like earlier. Placing the tip at her wet entrance, she slowly slid down onto him, relieved that the lost boy did not push against back,. The stretching feeling made her feel like getting torn apart all over again and she gave herself a moment to adjust to the size. The lost boy rolled his eyes back and shut them with a loud moan when he felt her walls tightened around, rubbing his thumbs against the tender flesh of her hips, when she finally started to slowly move up and down. Seeing the ruthless second in command like this was really stunning and lovely to look at. Felix's mouth was slightly agape and the muscles on his forehead were constantly twitching, moving his eyebrows constantly around. Never had Y/N seen so much emotion in his face before. She pressed her body against the lost boy and sucked at the tender part of Felix's neck. The lost boy used that moment as a chance to turn her over, holding Y/N tight in his arm, the other one holding his weight so he would not suffocate her while he was pumping in and out. Y/N moaned in ecstasy and ran her hands over his muscular back, feeling his skin against them and how his sweat dropped onto her body. She placed her legs on each side of his, clearly noticing the height difference and feeling like a delicate doll as he embraced her. Felix paced up and she rolled her eyes back when he entered in another angle to come even deeper. She never wanted this to stop and kept feeling how the lost boy filled her with his thick manhood, smelling his scent and feeling his hot skin burning against hers. Felix kissed his way down to her chest and caught one of her nipples between his lips, lightly starting to suck on them and intensing it with each time he thrusted in. These were the final strokes that caused Y/N's legs to shiver and tense up every muscle in her body as her climax roared through her whole body, up into her eyes into the back of her head. The lost boy grabbed Y/N's shoulders and when he came, too, the light of the candles danced in his beautiful, scrunched up face. It was a lie to say she did not like that view and the squeaking sound he made when Felix felt his orgasm deep inside her with throbbing pumps. Felix rolled next to the girl, trying to catch his breath and when he did so, he grabbed a towel from the bed for her.

"We could have used the bed." Y/N broke the soothing silence after a while and Felix chuckled, then nodded in agreement.

"Next time." He grinned, pulling his boxers up and placing himself back onto the ground. His eyes did not stop looking at the girl while she grabbed her dress and pulled it back over herself. For a long time they just looked at each other, laughing and giggling, kissing each other but remaining silent. This was clearly something none of them expected to happen.

"What do you see in me?" Y/N suddenly asked, caughting the lost boy off guard, his facial expression went into full confusion. It took him a moment to think about her question before he simply smiled. His eyes would always melt at her sight and in that moment she needed no words from him to realise how much he was in love with her. The lost boy pulled Y/N closer to him and placed her head against his chest, lifted her on his arms and carried her to the bed where he would let himself fall onto the soft mattress. His legs hung over the wooden frame as he gently rubbed his hands over her back while listening to the beat of his heart.

"I would never let anyone harm you." His voice was just a warm breeze on her earlobe, tickling her like a gentle kiss.

"What about Pan?" She asked after a while and took a glimpse at his relaxed face and how her question did not seem to have woken any worries inside him now. He had brushed it off earlier.

"I think, actually, he knew way before me." Felix chuckled low and shook his head unbelieving. "He gave me a chance I got wasted."

#felix ouat #ouat felix #parker croft #ouat felix imagine #ouat felix x reader #ouat felix smut

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twsupernaturalimagine · 2 years ago

Text

Please [Don’t] Touch Me

Title: Please [Don’t] Touch Me

Author: Jenna

Original Imagine: Imagine being reluctant to other people’s touch and finally giving your first hug to the boys

Warnings: vague mentions of verbal/physical abuse, vague mention of attempted suicide, brief violence, swearing

Word Count: 2,652

Fic:

"Here it comes, Y/N!“ you hear Sam call from deep within the depths of the thick forest somewhere in southern Kentucky. You, Sam, and Dean had come to the southern state interested in a particular case that you’d later learned involved an old vampire covenant. You’d been able to kill off a couple of the blood-suckers earlier in the evening, but the head honcho had yet to be found…until now. You stiffen at Sam’s call just in time to catch the vampire as it comes flying at you with Sam a few yards behind. You pin him down easily and are quick to take the stake you had in hand and plunge into his chest. The vampire hisses and spits at you, but his movements are weak. Blood pools from the wound in his chest but from his spastic kicks and punches you can tell it’s not deep enough to kill him.

"Stand back,” orders Dean as he comes up behind you with a large stake in hand. You don’t move from your position and instead focus your strength on holding the flailing vampire down.

Dean rolls his eyes at your refusal to move and instead takes the second stake and uses it as a hammer to jam your stake in deeper. The vampire leader gives one last sputtering cough, sending flecks of dark red blood on your face which makes you want to heave.

“Good job, Y/N!” Sam calls as he rushes up to meet you and Dean. You can’t help but blush at his praise. Despite having a knife in one hand and stake with dried blood covering the point in the other, you feel your heart flutter as he smiles at you.

“Good work boys,” you say.

“Good work yourself,” replies Dean.

You follow the two out of the forest you’d chased the coven leader into. At the edges of the woods you see the small cabin where the coven leader and his followers had been bunking. Sam and Dean are quick to work grabbing gasoline from Baby and setting the little cabin ablaze.

“Just in case,” says Dean when he catches the confused look on your face, “Maybe one of the fuckers is asleep in the walls, who knows? Better to just burn it all to be safe.”

“Sounds like something a serial arsonist would say,” you tease. He laughs.

Once the cabin had burned to ashes and the boys had checked that there wasn’t a chance of a flame sprouting out and igniting the forest, the three of you pile into Baby and argue over where to go for post-hunt celebration dinner.

You and Sam win out with McDonalds much to Dean’s dismay (he’d wanted Chinese), and with Sam at the wheel, you in the passenger seat, and Dean spread out in the back, you drive down the long country roads in search of a motel and a pair of golden arches.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take you long to find a McDonalds. You can’t help but feel somewhat comforted by the familiar glow of the neon in the windows as you enter. No matter what state lines you crossed or what part of the country you were in, there was always a McDonalds somewhere that made you feel at home.

“Oh Sammy, look!” Dean snorts as he motions towards a large cardboard cutout of Ronald McDonald. You almost cough up a lung when you feel Sam stiffen beside you.

“He’s coming for you, Sammy.”

You shoot Dean a look of absolute joy as the two of you watch Sam hustle past the cardboard cutout and into the store.

“Y/N?” Sam asks an hour later with his hand poised over the two large fries the three of you’d ordered. The three of you are squeezed into a booth. You’re squished beside Dean, facing Sam who looks at you expectantly.

“Mmm?” you reply around a large chunk of hamburger. Dean snorts.

“Today’s the fifth,” he continues, the expression on his face suggesting that there’s something important about this information.

You cock your head, unsure and unwilling to risk a guess, “Okay?”

Sam sighs and shakes his head with a smile, “You joined up with us on this day one year ago!”

Dean perks up beside you, “Hey! That’s right!” He outstretches his arms and leans towards you, “Can’t believe it’s been that long, can you Y/N?” Instinctively you lean back, but Dean doesn’t seem to get the message. The closer he gets, the farther you lean until you can feel yourself tumble out of the booth.

You hit the ground with a thump and a “Shit!” The few other customers turn to look at the commotion and an old man in a wrinkled polo gives you a disgruntled look in response to your language. You fight the urge to flip him off.

“Oh! Y/N!” You hear Sam move out of the booth and feel his warm, calloused hands grip your small, cold ones.

“Fuck Y/N, you alright?” Dean asks. You wonder what kind of look the old man’s giving now.

You let Sam pull you to your feet. You sway a bit and put a hand to your head. Despite the pain, there’s no blood.

“You hit your head pretty hard there,” Sam remarks.

“Shit, did I startle you?” Dean asks, his tone worried, “I thought we were past that.”

You shake your head (which just makes the developing headache even worse but you ignore it) and put up hands in surrender. “No! No, I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” You bite your lip as you watch a look of confusion pass over their faces. Sam opens his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it.

"I’m sorry I- I just have a thing with touch. I was caught off guard that’s all.”

“Oh, Y/N, I didn’t know…”

“How could you?” you ask, “Don’t apologize, Dean. I’ve never mentioned it before. There’s no way you could’ve known.”

The three of you are quiet for a moment. The customers seem to have gotten past your spectacle and their background chatter is a comforting distraction from the awkward silence that passes between the three of you.

“I-Is it because your father?” Sam asks, his tone apprehensive.

“I’d rather not go into this right now,” you reply, your hands clasped together against your chest, eyes focused on your worn out shoes on the checkered tile.

“Alright.”

Wordlessly, Sam and Dean gather your garbage and toss the remaining scraps. You follow the two of them back out to Baby and crawl into the backseat. You don’t want to talk, just want to lay your head down.

“Wait!” Sam says suddenly and he darts from the passenger seat back inside. He returns quickly with a bottled water and two Advil tablets which, upon re-entering Baby, he hands back to you. You gratefully take the pills as Sam settles back into the passenger seat and Dean starts the engine.

You watch the scenery go by as Baby exits the McDonalds and heads out back onto the country roads.

“We should find a place for the night,” Dean remarks and you and Sam nod in agreement. It’s gotten dark since you’d entered the McDonalds. Before there’d been a little later afternoon/early evening, but now there was nothing but the glow of the road lights and the moon.

“Dean?” you ask. It’s been two hours since you departed from the McDonalds and the three of you had yet to find any place to crash for the night. The roads were empty. You couldn’t even find any stops for gas in the last couple of miles. You were beginning to wonder if you’d end up spending the night in the Impala.

“Hm,” Dean replies, as he glances at you reflection in the rear view mirror.

“Sam.“

“Yeah.”

You take a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

“Y/N,” the two chorus, both sounding very tired. “Don’t be.”

“I just…” you start, “I’m sorry, we were having such a good night and I ruined it bein’ all weird with my sensory stuff.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” says Dean.

“I just wish we’d known sooner,” Sam adds, “I just keep thinking of all the situations we’d put you in where you must’ve felt weird…” He trails off and the three of you fall into silence.

“You’re right you know,” you say after a few exit signs have passed, “It’s because of my dad.”

A year ago the Winchester boys had come into your life and changed it for the better. You’d been a college dropout, nineteen years old with nowhere to go but home. Your father was wealthy in assets, poor in affection. He was bad to you. Treated you like an object he’d have dressed up for occasions or appearances, but ignored and starved for attention anytime else. Whenever he touched you it was because he wanted something. A hug meant he needed you to pay off his debts, a goodnight kiss on the cheek a promise that’d he’d use you as collateral in the coming weeks.

Despite his money, his favorite thing to bet was you. Whether it be your body, your mind, or your companionship. He gladly offered it anyone who’d take you. You were an object to him. Something that he owned. His affection meant he wanted something in return.

College had been a lifeline in a sea of uncertainty and regret. Finally you were free from his clutches and there was nothing he could do or say save hoping you’d flunk out. But scholarships can only take you so far and it was hard to handle the workload. Three months in and you were done. Depression. Anxiety. Fear of failure. Why try?

Instead of returning to your father with your tail between your legs, you decided to take your own life. There was a bridge near campus that led across the water to a small island owned by some wealthy folks in the area. The bridge was high, the weather cool and the water freezing. You thought it’d be a quick and relatively painless way to die and you almost had too…

Apparently the “wealthy folks in the area” were making their money off some kind of strange paranormal game complete with spirits and the occult and you never got the whole story from the boys but apparently it was a clusterfuck. Anyway, one of these wealthy folks had been possessed that night and running across the bridge followed closely by a very tried, very worn out Sam who just happened to see you standing on the ledge deliberating your choices.

It was dark out and thinking you were the person he was after, he tackled you to the ground. You remember fighting him, throwing punches and kicks (a few of which had landed but not done much), but finally stopping when he grabbed your fists and got a good look at you in the moonlight.

“Huh,” he’d said, “You don’t look like someone whose been possessed by a thousand year old ghost.”

And you were so stressed and so confused that you’d started laughing until you were crying. And Sam had stayed there holding your wrists while you sobbed into his neck well into the night and long after Dean had handled set the bones of the possessed old folk ablaze.

You’d refused to leave Sam’s side and begged the boys to take you with them. When questioned why you’d want to go with complete strangers you told them your story (leaving out some details) and the two had relented figuring that taking you on one hunt would scare you off for good…but it’d hadn’t.

“You guys know I’m thankful for you, right? And for everything you’ve done for me?”

“Aw, Y/N, you’re making me blush,” says Dean. He doesn’t turn back to look at you when he says it and instead continues focusing forward but you can see the corner of lips lift up in a teasing smile.

You snort, “Dean.”

Sam reaches back and takes one of your hand in his and squeezes. You quickly recoil, “I’m sorry I made dinner weird.”

“Y/N,” say Sam, stern brown eyes catching your attention, “Everything we do is weird.”

“Hell,” adds Dean, “You’ve only been around for a year. Trust me. It’s gonna get weirder.”

A small laugh escapes your throat which is scratchy and dry. You feel a small stream of tears roll down your cheek. A warm feeling sits in your belly. You want to jump the seat and wrap your arms around the boys, but you keep this want at bay.

“Y/N?” asks Sam, his tone worried as he watches tear after tear roll down your face. Noticing Sam’s change in tone, Dean pulls Baby over to the shoulder and turns off the ignition. Baby shutters to a stop and you’re left in the Impala with both the Winchester’s eyes on you.

“I have a thing with touch,” you start softly. “I-I think it’s because whenever I was shown affection it was because somebody wanted something so…I dunno…affection feels weird…fake?”

Sam nods, “Like there’s no point. It doesn’t feel real, it feels like somebody is playing you?”

“Basically.”

“Sorry Y/N,” says Dean and you’re quick to put your free hand to his cheek.

“Dean,” you say, “Don’t be. You didn’t know…” You trail off, choosing your next words carefully, “I know I’ve been kind of vague about what my father was like. I told you it was bad, but never really gave specifics…”

The two nod in confirmation.

You continue, “But he was never honest with me. Everything felt like a trick and I was scared…” You pull your hand away from Dean and remark, “I feel safest when I’m with you two. But even now…” The steady stream of tears has grown heavier now and you can feel snot building up in your nose. “…I’m still afraid of contact. And that’s unfair to you two because you trust me and I love you two and…”

Sam turns away from you and steps out of Baby, moving the seat back. Then he’s next to you, his big, bulky shoulders digging into you as he squeezes in the back. He motions to your hands which now sit clasped in your lap.

“Do you want to be touched?” he asks and you nod without thinking.

“I’m tired of being afraid,” you say.

Sam holds out a hand to you and you tentatively place your hand in his. He squeezes and you squeeze back.

“That’s not so bad,” you say.

Dean chuckles as he watches you two, “Well now I feel left out.” He exits the front seat and pulls open the backdoor on your other side.

“Dean,” warns Sam as the elder Winchester gently shoves you toward Sam. “Touch. We’re starting slow.”

“It’s alright,” you whisper softly, “It’s nice.”

Dean squeezes in next to you, turning the backseat into a sandwich with you as the center. The boys are warm and comforting. There’s a feeling of rising anxiety in your belly but you force it back down.

“We love you Y/N,” Sam says softly.

“Really?”

“Of course,” replies Dean. “And you know I don’t say that easily.” Sam chuckles at that.

You nibble your lip and lean closer into Sam. Finally, you bite the bullet and wrap your arms around his neck. He gives a soft “oh!” as you bury you face into his neck, but he doesn’t push you away. You fee his strong, tanned arms wrap around your waist and you’re quick to wiggle away and turn on Dean instead. You repeat your hug, but quickly pull away before they can respond. You worry you’ve hurt their feelings but a swift glance at each of their faces reveals nothing of the sort.

In fact, when you pull away from Dean, he’s beaming.

“How do you feel?”

You return Dean’s grin. “It’s a start,” you say.

#tw #twsupernaturalimagine #sam suicide #dean suicide #sd suicide #sd abuse #abuse #tw sam #tw dean #trigger warning #sam abuse #dean abuse #jenna #tw sd #admin: lana #tw one shot

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imagine-darksiders · 3 years ago

Text

A gentle touch.

[Strife/Reader]

Summary: Set three years after humanity is resurrected. Strife shows up unannounced in your bedroom in the middle of the night, which would have been rude enough without him getting blood all over your cream-coloured carpet.

Tags: Blood, injury, PTSD, knife, protective Strife, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, sharing a bed ;), bandages and cleaning wounds, how not to administer first aid.

-----

You have the apocalypse to thank for turning you into such a light-sleeper.

Even though the nights of sleeping with one eye open are far behind you and Earth is back on the road to a long and arduous recovery, you'll still jolt awake if your unconscious mind hears something scuttle beneath the floorboards of your freshly-restored home, and God forbid a tree branch should happen to scratch at the bedroom window...

Waking up with the feeling that your heart is three beats from bursting right out of your chest is exhausting, to say the least. And it isn't just you who suffers from the onset of hyper-vigilance.

It was a decidedly cruel consequence that the resurrected humans were able to recall their lives before the end of the world. Crueller still, they woke up to remember exactly how and where they eventually kicked the bucket, and of course, nobody knew that a significant chunk of time had passed at all since the end of the world and its rebirth.

They thought they were still in danger.

In one moment, all they knew was immense and excruciating pain, and then, in what seemed like the blink of an eye, they woke up again, screaming and writhing in the echoes of phantom pain that had occurred almost a century ago.

Three years down the line since ‘The Great Waking,’ and there isn’t a human alive who could claim that they’ve slept through an uninterrupted night.

------

The alarm clock on your bedside table has just ticked over to read '2:36am' when your eyes suddenly snap open and you fling yourself upright in bed, your spine ramrod straight and your ears ringing with a sharp, tinny note.

It isn’t a nightmare that wakes you. At least, not this time.

Worse.

It’s a sound.

An out-of-the-ordinary sound that isn't in keeping with the normal ambiance of your bedroom.

But where...?

....It's coming from your window.

Tired eyes swivel to the curtains whilst your hand immediately flies out to blindly fumble with the drawer of your bedside table. Once your fingers find the cold, metal handle, you rip it open and plunge your hand inside, rummaging around until you feel the reassuring grip of your most precious possession.

Your trusty bread knife. Serrated edge, nine inch blade, perfect for cutting slices of toast in the morning and for tearing through the toughened hide of a hungry demon.

Peace between the Universe’s species had been declared once humanity was fully introduced to the connected realms, a decision that suited a vast majority of Creation. Hell, however, had offered up a fair amount of opposition to the notion before eventually conceding and agreeing – albeit begrudgingly – to honour the peace treaty alongside angels, makers, undead and the rest.

Even demon-kind knew not to incur the wrath of humanity's strongest and most ferocious protectors, the Horsemen.

But... there are always exceptions to the rule. Some demons just... hadn't gotten the memo.

It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had tried to make an assassination attempt on humanity’s envoy.

Heart in your throat, you grasp the knife securely in your dominant hand and peer through the darkness towards the window.

Only a sliver of moonlight peeps through a tiny gap in the curtains. In another blink, the light suddenly disappears, and you know better than to assume that the moon has simply ducked behind a cloud.

Something is standing at your window, blocking out the light.

You think you might actually be sick when you hear the sound again, claws scraping on wood – a sound you know all too well – well enough to send your head spinning into a panic.

Swallowing back the nausea in your throat, you brace yourself, instincts flicking between running for the door and knowing never to turn your back on a demon.

Sadly, the decision is swiftly taken out of your hands. Through the darkness and the deafening roar of blood rushing through your ears, you can make out the distinct sound of your window sliding slowly open.

The knife is a comforting weight in your hand. But it’s less than useless if you don’t calm down and try to remember the lessons that Death has taught you. If the eldest Horseman were here, he’d probably have berated you seven ways to Sunday by now for freezing up and missing an opportunity to better prepare yourself for an attack.

A dark silhouette pushes the fluttering fabric of your curtains aside and pulls itself halfway into your bedroom.

Whatever it is, it’s big.

Breath catching in your throat, you clasp a handful of your duvet and get ready to fling it at the intruder as a distraction, hoping that it’ll be enough to buy you a precious few seconds to gain the upper hand. You've learned that humans are inherently weaker than demons, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned from Death, it’s that strength isn’t necessarily the deciding factor in any battle. You still have your wits. You only hope the demon has less.

Two luminous, golden eyes turn in your direction and you press yourself backwards into the headboard.

Several seconds drag by in perfect silence.

Then...

“Hey.”

And just like, that tension leaves your body like a balloon deflating of air and you heave the loudest sigh you can muster, dropping the bread knife into your lap.

“Damn it, Strife! You about gave me a heart attack!”

With a 'whump,' you flop back against your pillows and take a second to breathe whilst one of the Four Horsemen drags himself the rest of the way through your bedroom window.

Strife.

It's only Strife...

Whilst certainly a dangerous being in his own right, you know you have nothing to fear from the Horseman who had all but appointed himself as your friend three, long years ago, all in an attempt to irritate his brother, Death, of course.

At least, at first.

Death was the one who pulled you from the dying Earth and preserved your life-force as you journeyed together on a quest to resurrect humanity, but after he made the jump to introduce you to his 'little' siblings, it had been Strife who'd taken a particular shine to you, and it had everything to do with a compatible, if terrible sense of humour.

That first meeting sparked what was sure to be an interesting friendship between the pair of you.

-----

“So, my brother went and got himself a human, huh?” Strife had teased, pointedly ignoring the withering look he received from Death to add, “Gotta say, I'm impressed, Kid. Didn't think anyone would have the inclination to willingly travel with my brother. But then, I guess...” He trailed off and you could almost see the smirk growing under his mask. “Deathperate times and all that, huh?”

At once, his siblings all groaned out varying noises of disapproval. Fury, the loudest, cocked her hip and shot Strife a frosty glower. “You are singlehandedly ruining our reputation, brother."

“She's right, you know,” you spoke up, trying not to flinch when all eyes snapped onto you once more, “That pun was pretty deadful.”

The brief, startled second of silence was soon blasted apart when Strife threw his head back and barked out a triumphant laugh, while Death slowly turned to look at you, utterly betrayed.

“Ha!” Strife's eyes positively gleamed with mischief, “You're right, human. Guess I should'a considered the reapercussions of a joke like that, huh?”

“I ought to have known introducing you two would be a mistake,” the eldest Horseman grumbled, earning a sympathetic look from War.

“Sorry, Death,” you said with a perfectly straight face, “You want us to get out of your scythe so you don’t have to look at us anymore?”

Strife had howled.

Death, however, merely heaved a long-suffering sigh. Fury's eyes all but rolled into the back of her skull and War just stood there, struggling to keep his lips from twitching at their corners.

And you had looked around at all of them, a little proud and blissfully unaware of what you'd just unwittingly signed yourself up for.

You'd had Strife's attention from that day on.

-----

Shaking off the fond memory, you tiredly will your mind back to the matter at hand.

You reach across your bed and drop the knife back into the drawer before leaning down and skirting your fingers over the wall in search of a switch. The next moment, there's a 'click!' and the room is illuminated by clustered fairy lights that you've draped around your ceiling, forcing you to squint blearily against the intrusion of light as Strife hauls his leg into your room.

“Honestly. How many times have I told you to use the door?”

“S'locked,” he grunts.

You're in the midst of rubbing your eyes to try and stimulate a little life back into your bones, so you miss the way he stumbles a few steps away from the wall and presses a gauntleted hand to his abdomen.

“Yeah, it’s locked because it's-” You take a quick glance at the clock next to you. “-Two thirty in the morning! Strife, I’m supposed to be up at six to meet Ulthane! What do you need so badly that you'd-... Hey.. Are.. are you okay?”

At last taking a long, hard look, it suddenly occurs to you that the Horseman is... not entirely himself.

He's hunched over, his shoulders pulled in around his neck and his chest rising and falling in long, languid motions. The tattered cowl he wears around his neck hangs loose around his collarbones and it faces the very real threat of slipping off to the floor. At last, your eyes drop to the hand that's clamped over the left side of his abdomen and you blurt out a startled gasp.

In the paltry, pink glow of your fairy lights, you spot an unmistakably crimson liquid dribbling between his fingers, starkly contrasted against the steel-grey colour of his armour.

The next few seconds pass in a blur as you frantically begin kicking off your duvet and scramble out of bed, flying across the room to the Horseman's side.

“Strife! What'd you do!?”

“Oh, that's real sweet,” the Nephilim chuckles wryly whilst he collapses back against the wall and slides down it with a strained grunt, “Why're you – ung... assuming it's something I did?”

Without missing a beat, you snap, “This would hardly be the first time you got hurt because you're a wise-cracking jokester with a big mouth! Now tell me who you pissed off?!”

You drop onto your knees next to him and reach out, fingers hovering tentatively above his stomach. With your focus directed away from his helm, Strife doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes dart from left to right before they settle back on the top of your head.

“Ah, it was... just some demon, caught me slackin', that's all,” he shrugs, letting you carefully grasp his wrist and lift it away from his torso.

At once, fresh blood gushes from a deep gouge cut into in the dark, leather under-skin he wears beneath his cuirass and you yelp, slapping a hand over your mouth in abject horror.

The sound draws Strife's gaze to you and once he spots the shocked despair on your face, he gives himself a mental kick.

He hadn't meant to... He... doesn't like it when you’re scared because of him.

"Hey, no, no – I'm okay!” he rushes to reassure you, “Don't worry about this. I've had worse!”

“That's not the point, Strife!” you argue, dropping his wrist and carding your hands through your hair, “You're hurt now! And I don't – there's so much blood, and you-” Cutting yourself off, you squeeze your eyes shut and inhale deeply through your nose, willing your pulse to ease so that you can rationally address this situation.

Another lesson Death had taught you - stay calm in a crisis. Panic kills.

Releasing a long, hard breath, you peel your eyes open again and nod, jaw set. “Okay. All right. I need to.. I need water. A-and I need to see the wound.”

The interrogation can come after you've dealt with... this.

“There's a bowl and flannel in my bathroom,” you announce, getting to your unsteady feet and gesturing towards Strife's cuirass, “Think you can get that off so I can have a look?”

Huffing out a breath of laughter, the Horseman winks at you suggestively and drawls, “An' here I was doin' things the hard way to get your attention. You know, you didn't have to wait till I got myself gutted before you asked me to take my armour off in your chambers.”

A wise-cracking flirt with a big mouth.

As exasperating as he is though, you don't mind it in the slightest.

This is your usual rapport, after all. A friendly back and forth interlaced with the occasional, flirtatious comment. At first, Strife had only initiated it because it drove an over-protective Death up the wall. The eldest Horseman had almost threatened to 'remove Strife's libido' until you'd up and flirted right back, distressing the old reaper even further.

It's funny. It's innocent. But right now, it's reassuring, if only somewhat, that Strife is behaving just like his shameless, old self.

Besides, you can give back as much as you get.

“Well, I had to wait for a good enough excuse,” you retort, “Couldn't come on too strong and risk scaring you off, now could I?”

In response, Strife just chuckles fondly and watches you turn and speed away to your ensuite, oblivious to the warm, soft glow radiating from his eyes.

In less than a minute, you're briskly striding back into the room, a dripping flannel in one hand and a bowl in the other, and he suddenly remembers that you'd asked him to remove his cuirass.

Mission failed.

But you don't even bat an eyelid to find it still in place, assuming that the Horseman can't get at the catches on the sides in his current state.

In one, smooth motion, you drop down beside him once more and set the cloth and bowl nearby. “Here, let me help..”

The Horseman's pulse sputters when your tiny fingers reach around his torso and fumble with the buckles and straps that keep his armour securely in place. It doesn't pass his notice that your hands are trembling.

“Hey,” he calls, catching your eye for a moment before you go right back to fiddling with the cuirass, “This is nothin’, you know that, right?”

You only press your lips together and hum, clearly skeptical.

You're working fast and in almost no time at all, the straps have been released and you carefully take the Nephilim's broad shoulder, giving it a tug, guiding him to lean away from the walls so that you can start to peel the bulky armour off.

“Nng, hang on,” he mutters.

Reluctantly, you sit back to let him tug his chest piece loose before he simply drops it onto the carpet next to his legs with a dull 'clang.'

Exposed to the soft glow of your lights, your eyes are instantly drawn to the gaping wound that stretches in a horizontal line across the left side of his abdomen. It seems that something really has tried - and nearly succeeded - to gut him. Several inches long and goodness knows how deep, even against the iron-grey colour of his skin, the gash is alarmingly obvious and the blood far, far too noticeable for your liking. It still comes as something of a shock to learn that the Horsemen, barring Death, can actually bleed.

Wordlessly, you pick up the flannel and wring it out into the bowl of water, wondering if he'll mind that you didn't wait for the tap to get warm before you soaked it. It shouldn't surprise you that the Horseman doesn't protest or even flinch when you gently press the wet cloth to the bloodied skin around his wound, nowhere near the gash itself, not until you've cleared away some of the mess around it and determined its real depth.

You don't notice that his eyelids flutter closed once you press the cloth to his skin, nor do you see when their golden light fluctuates in contentment as the fingertips of your other hand press gently to his stomach, the pressure barely enough for him to feel, but enough to keep you steady whilst you daub at his drying blood.

It takes a formidable effort to suppress the shudder that nearly races up his spine. This is the first time he's felt your skin against his without a single piece of armour standing between you.

Creator, you're so soft! Just like he always imagined you would be.

“Jeezus, Strife,” you whistle, abruptly snatching his focus away from the soothing strokes of your silky fingers,“You've made a real mess of yourself. Why on Earth didn't you just go straight to Death? I thought he was the best healer in your family.”

The warm skin underneath your fingertips jumps as the Horseman puffs out a quick laugh, gazing dopily at your temple whilst you wipe at the edges of his wound with small, careful touches.

“He is,” Strife readily agrees, “But the moody bastard wouldn't be nearly as gentle with me as you are.”

You blow an unimpressed huff from your nose and glance up at him in time to catch his lazy wink. “I can always press harder if you like?”

“Nah.” The Horseman settles himself more heavily against the wall, knocking his skull back against it and mumbling, “Just keep touchin' me all gentle like that. S'nice...”

Quite abruptly, the chatty Nephilim goes silent and the glow from his eyes that had illuminated your face only moments ago suddenly disappears.

“Strife?”

He doesn't respond.

“Hey, Cowboy! Don't you fall asleep on me, you hear?”

There's a long stretch of silence, then, “Won't,” he mumbles, cracking one eyelid open to peer down at you.

Harrumphing, you promptly turn back to the gash in his stomach and wipe the last of the dried blood off his skin, still far from clean, but at the very least, better than it had been.

“Right,” you declare, pulling away to stand up and drawing a decidedly petulant whine from the Horseman on your bedroom floor. “I'm gonna go get the first aid kit from downstairs.”

There’s a shift in his expression and something that hinges on alarm suddenly whistles through his blood.

“I won’t be long,” you promise, "Be right – Hey, woah! What're you doing!?”

Darting forwards, you hastily place your hands on each of Strife's broad shoulders, trying to push him back down as he grabs the window sill behind him and begins hauling himself up to his feet.

“What's it look like ‘m doing?” he answers gruffly, slouching forwards as if the weight of his own head is too much to keep aloft, “Comin’ with you”

Sputtering out a few, incredulous noises, you try to make him see sense. “I’ll bring the first aid kit to you! You need to rest! It's bad enough that you already climbed in through my second storey window!”

But Strife, stubborn as a mule and much, much stronger than you, isn't deterred by your protests. Grunting, he curls one arm over his stomach and takes a step forwards, ducking beneath your light fixture and standing to his full, imposing height.

Even with three years of companionship behind you, you’re still frequently taken aback at how effortlessly the Horseman can make you feel small and fragile when you stand close to him.

Knowing full well that you’ll never be able to force him down again, you allow your hands to slip from his shoulders and fall against your sides like lead weights. You aren’t sure why he’s suddenly so hellbent on following you, downstairs, of all places, but you don’t dwell on it, especially given that you’re far more preoccupied with the fresh blood that has already begun trickling out of his wound to replace the stains you’ve painstakingly cleaned away.

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Strife, please sit down?” You aren’t so proud that you won’t resort to begging, tired as you are and exasperated with his obstinate behaviour. “I’m worried about you...”

All at once, the Horseman stiffens. ‘Oh, now she’s fighting dirty,’ he muses to himself.

Gradually, you lift your eyes to meet his and try your very best to glare up at him, pinning him down with all the stern authority you can muster. For several, slow heartbeats, the Nephilim peers right back at you and you’re almost certain that you’ll lose this battle of wills, which is why it comes as such a shock when his fiery gaze falters, wavering slightly before it promptly drops to the floor near your feet.

It's... rare for Strife to be looked at by someone who isn't ashamed to show that they worry about him.

But the way you're looking at him now? Hell, the way you've been looking at him since he clambered through your bedroom window? You're practically broadcasting your concern.

Strife just... isn't used to seeing that. So he glances down instead, finding the fibres of your carpet particularly exhilarating tonight. Slowly, begrudgingly, he sinks down to sit on the edge of your bed, heavy enough that the frame creaks and groans under the weight of a fully grown Nephilim and he has to hold back a contented sigh at the softness beneath his legs.

From the corner of an eye, he can see that your jaw is hanging ajar and remains so until you give yourself a little shake and throw him a satisfied nod. “Thank you,” you huff before turning on your heel and striding purposefully from the room.

Strife listens raptly to your footsteps disappearing down the staircase, unaware that his hands have curled into tight fists around your duvet.

'It's fine,' he assuages the insistent voice at the back of his head, 'She's fine.'

He took care of the threat. That demon asshole isn't coming after his friend.

You’re only downstairs. He can already hear you pushing open the door to your little kitchen whilst the rest of his senses remain trained on the sounds and smells of the night.

It isn't as though something bad might happen just because his eyes aren't fixed upon you...

Frankly, he thinks he’s being more than generous to allow a full, Earth minute to pass as he taps his heel impatiently against the side of your bed.

Didn’t you say you’d be right back?

...

“Fuck it...”

-------

Perhaps, in hindsight, keeping your first aid kit on the top of the fridge hadn’t been one of your brightest ideas, given that you need a chair to reach it. Then again, securing immediate access to bandages and plasters hadn’t exactly been on the forefront of your mind when you were rebuilding your old home from the ruins it had been left in.

With a grunt, you drop your rickety kitchen chair next to the fridge and clamber up onto the seat. “I have got to find a better place for you,” you grumble at an apathetic first aid kit that sits gathering dust near the wall. Stretching your arm out, you manage to snag it by the handle and drag it towards you-

“The hell're you doing!?”

The violent jolt that shoots through you like lightening nearly sends you toppling off the chair. You let out a yelp, just barely catching yourself on the fridge with your free hand before you whip about to see none other than Strife silhouetted in the kitchen doorway.

“Wh- the hell are you doing!?” you retort, knitting your brows into a frown and clutching the first aid kit against your heaving chest, “Why aren’t you upstairs?”

The Horseman’s glowing eyes are fixed unsettlingly on the chair beneath your feet and rather than answer the question, he ducks under the doorframe and thunders towards you in a few, short strides, leaving you with no time to protest before he suddenly sweeps you up off the chair and into his arms, caging you against a solid chest.

At once, you begin to struggle. “Strife! Your wound! Put me down, you'll hurt yourself!”

But the Nephilim is hardly paying attention. His glare lingers on the flimsy, wooden chair legs for a moment before he flicks his gaze towards the large window above your sink, noting with no small degree of distaste that it isn't even shut.

It’s like you’re inviting danger in.

If you had any idea of the fate he and his siblings are currently trying to protect you from, you might just try a little harder to take better care of yourself.

“Hey!” you continue to protest against his hold but manage to refrain from jostling about too much, mindful of his injury. “For god's sake! What's gotten into you?!”

He offers little more than a noncommittal grunt in response and begins trailing back towards the staircase, casting brief glances at the french doors leading out onto your patio.

'Structural weakness,' he registers, 'Perfect point of entry for anything smaller than a Trauma...'

Shaking his head, he turns sideways to fit you through the kitchen door and takes the stairs up to your room.

After a second, he lowers his eyes to meet yours and finds himself meeting a highly unimpressed scowl. “What?” he asks, the very picture of innocence.

Raising your brows, you snap, “Don't you 'what' me! The hell is all this about? I told you to stay put!”

“You were takin' too long,” he shrugs.

“Too long!?” Indignant, you flick your wrist and rap the first aid kit against his collar bone, “I was gone a minute, max! If you were so worried about me taking too long to fix you up, then why are you moving around and making your injury worse!?”

The light of Strife's golden gaze dims and he turns his head away, staring up towards the top of the stairs and your bedroom door beyond. “S'not me m' worried about,” he mumbles.

It's such an about-face from his usual demeanour that you can do little but blink dumbly up at him and fall still against his chest, your mouth hanging agape.

In silence, the Horseman ducks through the door into your room and sidles over to the bed where, hesitantly, he lowers you down until you're sitting safely on the edge.

In the next moment however, just as Strife drops heavily onto the bed next to you, you slip away and settle on the floor instead, placing the first aid kit beside his boots and fumbling with the latches.

Despite blowing out a rough grumble of disapproval that sounds entirely too much like War for his liking, he lets you go.

Chewing on your lip, you stare at the contents for a moment before snatching up a pack of antiseptic wipes, tearing one out and bringing it up to his stomach.

“You want to tell me why you just exacerbated your injury to rescue me from my kitchen chair?” you ask him, adding as an afterthought, “This might sting a bit..”

When he doesn't reply, you glance up and quirk a brow at the underside of his chin, only to catch him peering back at you from behind heavy-lidded eyes. Then, with a weary sigh, he sags forwards and raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck, looking sheepish, of all things.

Unable to dispel your frown, you blindly begin brushing the wipe underneath his bleeding wound.

He doesn't even wince.

Strife tips his helm towards the bedroom window and slumps further backwards into your mattress, seeming so entirely out of place amidst the colourful duvet cover and frilly cushions.

“Okay,” he mutters, “I uh, I got a confession to make.”

Interest piqued, you make an acknowledging sound at the back of your throat and return your attention to his abdomen.

“Death didn't want us to tell you about this,” he continues quietly whilst you toss the now ruined wipe over your shoulder and pull out a fresh one, “And, to be honest, neither did I. We didn't want you to have to worry, y'know?”

You don't know. And you nearly ask him what you should be worrying about, but you soon let your mouth fall shut and settle for humming curiously instead, trusting that he'll tell you soon enough anyway.

There's a long pause, during which you find the courage to bring your fingers close to the edges of his wound and immediately have to withhold a gag when the motion sends another spout of blood oozing from the cut and dribbling down your wrist.

After a moment, Strife huffs and forges ahead, “Course, War and Fury did want to tell you-”

He's stalling, you realise belatedly.

“-War thinks you have every right to know. And Fury said there's nothin' for you to worry about anyway, cause we've got your back.”

“Fury said that?” you ask distractedly, dropping the wipe and rummaging around for a gauze pad. In response, Strife exhales, a tiny, hidden smile creeping onto his lips. “Fury says a lot of stuff about you that you don't know about.”

Gently, you unroll the gauze and press it against his wound. “Wow, you sure that's your sister? Sounds like she might've been body snatched.”

“Ha!” The Horseman suddenly throws his head back. “Well, if she has been replaced, I sure as shit ain't going lookin' for the original. This Fury is... she's...”

He pauses, tipping his head in thought before eventually settling on, “She's learning.”

You blow out a long, impressed whistle and he nods his agreement, adding, “Yeah, s'weird for all of us too.”

The room lapses into silence once again as you stretch the gauze across Strife's abdomen and mutter, “Hold this,” before your hands are retreating and the Horseman's slide down to keep the bandage in place.

Reaching into the box once more, you take some bandages and begin to unfurl them gingerly over the top of the gauze. “Not hurting you, am I?”

You miss the soft expression he aims at the top of your head. “Never.”

You're more than aware that he probably won't tell you you've hurt him even if you were to stick your fingers in the wound twist them.

“Sooo~....?” you prompt.

Peering down at you, Strife cocks his head to one side and echoes, “Soooo?”

“What did Fury and War think I should know?”

“Oh. Right...” His reluctance is as painfully obvious as a slap to the face but you're slightly more focused on plunging your hand back into the first aid kit and rooting around for a roll of adhesive tape.

He observes you for a moment, growing more and more certain that despite your curiosity, you aren’t actually paying a great deal of attention to his words. Quite abruptly, he asks, “You listening?”

Emitting little more than a vague hum, you finally snag the tape and run your fingernail along the smooth surface, searching for the ever-elusive end.

“You sure?” Strife grunts skeptically, “Kid, this is kind of important.”

Without missing a beat, you nod your chin towards his injury and reply, “Yeah, well, you're kind of important too, buddy.”

Oh.

Oh, that's...

Strife wracks his brain, trying to pluck an appropriate response from amidst his tumbling thoughts. Part of him wants to scoff – of course he's important! He's Strife! The best, damn marksman who ever walked the realms of existence.

But then, there's another part of him that lurks deep behind the walls of hubris and brass he's been building meticulously for centuries, and it gives a little leap at the sound of your words, delighted beyond measure.

Averting his gaze, Strife lets out a chuckle. “You're getting soft.”

“Ah, I've always been soft.”

His heart thrums. “Wasn't talkin' about you, kid.”

You shoot him a smirk as you stick a piece of tape over the bandages covering his injury. “Well, if you're talking about yourself, then you're wrong again. You aren't getting soft. You've always been soft.”

The Horseman mutters something incoherent, but it's his distinct lack of an articulate response that speaks volumes to your ears.

The slight pressure of your fingers as they prod at the tape with tentative care leaves him mourning the centuries he's gone without knowing such a gentle touch. Rolling his eyes down to you, his smile droops and he sighs, sagging forwards to rest his elbows on his knees just as you attempt to place another strip of tape.

“Strife!” you complain, leaning back, “I need to put more tape on!”

He merely blinks at you languidly and says, “Later. I want you concentratin' on me right now.”

“I've been concentrating on you all night,” you huff, though you eventually concede and sit back on your haunches, peering up at the Horseman expectantly.

Studying your face for another moment, he breathes a long sigh and gestures to his stomach. "I told you a demon did this..."

“Uh huh...”

Solemnly, Strife continues, “So more specifically, it was a Shadow Caster. Been on her trail for a couple of weeks now. Finally caught up with her on some farmlands west of the city...”

“Okay?” you nod, digesting the information, “And why were you on her trail?”

He hesitates, flicking his eyes between you and the window a few times before he quietly admits, “She was comin’ after one of my friends...”

“Who?”

The look he throws you is so pointed, you suddenly feel like a fool for missing the obvious.

“Ah.” Understanding, you slowly nod your head.

“Yup.”

“But, she's dead now, right?” You gesture to his wound. “You came straight here after killing her.”

Strife's eyes darken further and each time they try to land on your face, they seem to slide right off again and drop to the carpet. “Uh, yeah. She's dead.”

You heave a sigh. “She wasn't the only one who's after me.”

“... No..”

“I see.” Inhaling long and slow through your nose, you tip your head back and slap your hands on your thighs, rubbing at them anxiously as you gaze around the room. “So, do we know how many there are?”

The Horseman eyes you for several, silent seconds. Eventually though, he speaks up. “Got wind of a small group of about four of 'em. Demons mostly, one undead. You and I've got a mutual... uh, friend, who's been keeping his ears to the ground, and he reckons they’re aiming to provoke another war between Hell and Earth by killin' the human envoy.”

“Wow. Talk about sore losers,” you scoff humourlessly, “So, who is this mutual friend?”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Strife's posture once he notices that you haven't immediately flown into a panic. “C'mon kid,” he snorts, “You know I can't expose my source. He doesn't want you know that he cares about you. Thinks you might start askin' for discounts if you thought he was getting' soft.”

“Discounts, huh?” Your lips quirk up at their edges and Strife smacks a palm over his mask in mock distress.

“Ah, hell, I gave it away, didn't I?”

“I bet his name rhymes with Shmulgrim, doesn't it?” you laugh.

Chuckling, Strife leans back on his hands again and replies, “Hey, you came to that conclusion on your own. Technically, I never told you who my source was.”

With the atmosphere in your bedroom gradually becoming lighter and lighter, you follow the Horseman's lead and relax backwards onto your hands, stealing a surreptitious glance at the bandages adhered to his torso.

It's no longer as surprising as it used to be that Vulgrim is invested in the well-being of his 'valuable asset.' The Horsemen are perhaps his best clients, hence the vested interest in keeping himself in their good graces by looking out for their human ward.

Shaking your head with a knowing smirk, you push yourself up onto your feet and glance down at yourself, brushing off your pyjama shorts, only to grimace when your hands do nothing but smear Strife's blood all over the fabric.

“Sorry... for the mess.”

You raise your head at the sound of the Horseman's voice and find him glowering down at the stains he's dripped onto your carpet, his eyes hooded and glum.

Heaving a sigh that you hope conveys both exasperation and affection, you reach out and place your comparatively tiny hand on his shoulder to give the pauldron a reassuring squeeze, drawing his gaze back up to your face. “I don't care about the mess, Strife” you tell him matter-of-factly, “The carpet's just here to stop my feet getting cold in the morning. You're my best friend.”

Ever so slowly, his luminous eyes grow wide with wonder and he lets his jaw drop open to speak, but before he manages to utter a soft, 'what?' you give his shoulder a friendly jostle and add, “So long as you're okay, pal, that's the main thing. Now...”

Trailing off, you move back around the bed and let your fingers slide off the Horseman's arm, stepping up to the bedside table containing your pyjamas, oblivious to how swiftly and easily you've just swept the rug out from underneath Strife's feet. He twists himself around on your mattress to watch you, his eyes as wide as than dinner plates.

Did you mean to say... best?

He – well, he always knew that you considered him a friend! Hell, he'd even go so far as to say the two of you are close friends.

But best?

Best implies that there's nobody – nobody – that you hold in higher regard than him...

'How did I miss that!?' his psyche all but screams at him, 'When the Hell did I get so important!?”

You aren't even looking at him, too busy rummaging through your drawers, as if you have no idea that you've just pulled his heart right out of his chest and now you have it cradled in the palms of your hands.

You could crush the life out of him with hardly a word.

“So, you never did say!” you call out to him as you duck into your ensuite bathroom and flick the light on, hiding yourself from view whilst you change, “How does the master of marksmanship get tagged by a Shadowcaster in the first place? You’re not usually the type to get up close and personal. That’s more War’s thing, right?”

All at once, the threats that demon witch had made against you ring like klaxons in Strife’s head and he has to make a conscious effort to ignore his instinct to leap off the bed and barge into the bathroom just to be sure you’re safe. He hears the shuffling of fabric against skin as you pull off the bloodied shorts and begin to pull on the new ones.

Grinding his teeth, he spits out, “She just.. got me mad, is all. Made me wanna have the satisfaction of wringing her neck with my bare hands instead of filling her with bullets.”

“Wait, seriously?” Your silhouette suddenly appears in the bathroom doorway and and strife glances up, briefly enraptured by the halo of light glowing at your back. A fellow human might have likened you to an angel. Strife, however, knows that none of the feathery bastards could hold a candle to you.

Garbed in clean shorts that smell distinctly of you, and not copper, you step out into your bedroom. “How’d a demon manage to make you mad? You’re like, the champ of not getting mad. It’s like your superpower.”

“Yeah, well..” he mutters, turning his helm away, “This time, she went too far.”

You’re quiet as you flop down onto the bed next to him, your eyes flicking between his downturned head to the fists that are clenched like vices at his sides, metal claws gripping fistfuls of your duvet so tightly, you’re worried he might end up poking holes in the cover.

Whatever had been said to him must have been bad if he’s this riled up.

Biting your lip, you let out a pensive hum and lean backwards, your fingers brushing over a soft lump near the headboard. At once, your eyes grow wide and your lips stretch into a sly grin as your hand closes over something fluffy and familiar.

Strife is still busy stewing when he’s suddenly brought out of his thoughts by a face that’s shoved promptly into his line of sight. He blinks, drawing his head away to properly see what you’re holding up in front of him.

He can’t contain a chuckle once he realises that it’s none other than your old, toy horse, dangling in front of him with its little, black ears flopping forwards to cover a pair of button eyes.

Allowing a smile to grace the edge of his mouth, the Horseman wordlessly relaxes his grasp on your duvet in favour of reaching out to gently take the soft toy out of your hands, lowering it down into his lap.

“I thought David Hasselhoof might make you feel better,” you tell him, bumping your shoulder against his companionably.

The Nephilim simply smiles, stroking his palm over the horse’s fuzzy mane.

“Hey, Strife?”

“Mmm?”

You fiddle with your fingernail for a moment, dropping your eyes to the bed and taking a breath before you ask, “What did the demon say that made you so angry?”

It isn’t as though you want to pry. But having your friend turn up at your house in the dead of night with his stomach torn open warrants a couple of questions, in your honest opinion.

The Horseman’s brows knit together underneath his helm and he shifts slightly, twisting away from you further until you can’t even see the lights of his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost dare to say that he looks shy. An impossibility, frankly.

When he speaks, his voice is gentle, a far cry from the normal, strident tone you’re used to hearing. “She, uh, she might’ve made a couple of threats about you.. Bad ones.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but for some time, he doesn’t utter another word, prompting you to ask, “And?”

You very nearly reel backwards into your headboard when Strife whips around to face you. “And?!” he echoes, incredulous, “The Hell d’you mean ‘and?’ Isn’t that enough of a reason?!”

Taken aback, you lift your hands in a placating gesture and stammer, “Woah! I - I just meant... Well, it’s not like I haven’t been threatened before? Just seems like a weird thing for you to get so angry about.”

Without warning, the enormous Nephilim lurches to his feet, the cuddly horse left to tumble, forgotten out of his lap. “Did you not hear me?” he snaps, “She. Threatened. You!”

“A-and that... made you mad?”

“Did - Of course it did!” he all but howls, his voice cracking as it raises in pitch, “She made me listen to all the god damn, sick things she wanted to do to you when she found you! She said - she said, I’d never see you again!” Roughly, he drags his clawed fingertips through his spiky, black hair and exclaims, “Next thing I know, I’m droppin’ Redemption and Mercy, I’ve got her heart in my fist and I’m... I’m...”

He trails off, knocked out of stride by his own admission. You remain silent, pressed up against your head board with the blankets clutched to your chest.

When he notices you staring up at him, small and wary amongst the sheets, the frustration saps from him like water circling the drain. “So... so yeah,” he huffs, his shoulders slumping and a great wave of shame crashing over him, “I got a little mad! I got a little pissed off. Cause I didn’t like hearin’ someone say they were gonna hurt my friend.”

And with that, he just... deflates, not unlike a punctured tyre. All the hot air inside him is dispelled with every heave of his mighty chest whilst he peers down at you, feeling the weight of your stare upon him.

Guilt leaves a sour taste in his mouth, rancid and acidic.

You look so..

...scared.

Sometimes Strife forgets that to you, he’s an unassailable figure from biblical legend, a bringer of the end days and an ancient gunman with a body count higher than there are grains of sand on the earth. Of course you’re going to be scared of him when he’s raising his voice at you and towering over you like this. And all because he’d had the life scared out of him in the first place.

“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to -” The words die on his lips and he sighs, defeatedly casting his eye over towards your bedroom window. He doesn’t want to leave you, not without knowing that his siblings have dealt with the remaining threats to your life. But... “I’ll just.. I’ll go.”

Turning his back on you, the Horseman bends to retrieve his discarded cuirass and takes a step towards the window, but a voice, thin as the cobwebs in the corner of your room, stops him in his tracks.

“Strife.”

The Horseman doesn’t move. he just stares at the darkness through your curtains.

Minutes pass without another word said between you. He remains stubbornly silent, hardly daring to breathe let alone respond to his name, until eventually, he hears a soft huff and rustling behind him.

Footsteps pad across the room and your scent grows stronger as you draw near, wafting over him like an intoxicating aroma before your hand places itself into his palm and he instinctively curls his fingers around it, shuddering at the feel of your soft skin pressed like silk against his roughened hide.

Your tiny, fragile hand... Creator, he really is just a beast standing next to you, isn’t he? The last time he felt this monstrous was..

No. Strife abruptly slams the shutters of his mind down around any thoughts of the Animus. Now is not the time to let dredge up old memories.

Luckily, your voice breaks through the haze and keeps him grounded. “Come on, big guy. Stay here, please?"

“You want me to stay?” he chokes out a laugh, “Even after I scared you?”

“Scared me? What?” It’s your turn to sound confused. “You didn’t scare me Strife, you shocked me. I’ve never seen you this serious before.”

The Horseman half turns to face you, giving you a glimpse of his warm, golden eyes. “And, I’ve never had a best friend before.” he admits slowly, hearing a soft intake of breath behind him.

“Wait?... I’m your best friend?”

With your hand still in his, Strife steps around slowly to face you, shooting you a quizzical glance. “Uh, yeah? I mean, I don’t exactly have a plethora of friends to choose from, so the competition isn’t that fie- Oof!”

He’s violently interrupted by a soft, squishy body colliding with his.

You fling your arms around the stunned Horseman’s waist and bury your face into his chest, momentarily forgetting about his injury. Strife, meanwhile, has to employ every molecule of willpower he owns to refrain from flinching, fearing that you’ll let go if he does. He can’t ignore how high his heart just jumped at the feeling of you pressed against him, nor the way his soul soars after realising that you still trust him enough to get this close.

It’s something that both he and his siblings are all having to get used to, these impromptu hugs.

Fury had almost flipped you over her shoulder and onto the ground the first time you came at her with your arms open wide, assuming you were going in for an attack.

War had pulled the most remarkable face, a mixture of alarm and wary delight that caused Strife to keel over in hysterics when you threw your arms around his broad stomach.

Death... Well, Strife hadn’t been around to witness your first hug with his oldest brother, but he imagines it must have been like hugging a block of cold stone.

And Strife? Well, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the first hug you gave him. It was so tight and comfortable, and for all of a moment, the only things that existed were the two of you. Inside the binding circle of your arms, his troubles couldn’t touch him, the anguish of his sins took a backseat and he became convinced that he could live happily and peacefully until the end of time trapped in your silent embrace.

The sentiment hasn’t dulled with frequency either. Every hug he receives is as powerful and intoxicating as the last.

This one is no different.

Strife's large, thickset arms carefully raise to your delicate back and shoulders, where he simply folds himself around you, pushing the nose of his helm into your soft, messy hair and drawing in a long, deep breath, earning your snort of amusement.

“You a big fan of coconut, then?”

“Is that what that smell is?” he mumbles, feeling the world settle around him as his eyes slip shut, “S'different from last time...”

“...Setting aside the fact that you remember what my hair smelled like last time we hugged.. I ran out of apple shampoo.”

“Mmm.” He trails off, humming into your hair, a sound that rumbles straight through you and leaves the top of your head tingling.

It takes your brain another few seconds to recall the injury on his torso.

“Oh, shit,” you hiss, leaning back and instantly finding your progress blocked by the Horseman's sturdy forearms. “I'm sorry, I didn't think -”

“- Eh, s'fine,” he cuts you off.

“It's not! I forgot, you need to be resting it!”

Strife grumbles his displeasure when you suddenly become very wriggly. “Strife, let go. You should be resting, not standing.”

Cracking one eye open, he roves his gaze over towards your bed. “Resting, huh? …. Not a bad idea.”

Without warning, he stoops down, and for the second time tonight, you find yourself suddenly swept up off your feet, bleating out a garbled squawk of alarm. “Stop picking me up! You'll start bleeding again!”

Smirking to himself, the Horseman takes two, loping steps towards your bed and lowers you down amongst the folds of the duvet, taking great pleasure in crawling over the top of you to get to the other side, armour and all. It isn't the first time he's rested in your bed, usually following a long night of playing your video games and catching up on all the human things he's been missing out on, and it likely won't be the last.

The bed springs creak despondently as he lifts his corner of the duvet and flops heavily onto his side next to you, grinning at the unimpressed glare you're shooting him.

“I like your bed,” he announces, burrowing himself deeper beneath the duvet, “You got a lot of pillows. And-”

His hand rustles beneath the covers for a moment before he winks... and slowly draws out David Hasselhoof, wiggling him back and forth in front of your eyes. “There's room for a threesome.”

“Oh my god. Goodnight, Strife!” Your lips quiver until you give in and crack a genuine smile, grabbing a pillow and whapping it softly down onto his helm. You get no resistance from the Horseman at all in retaliation. He merely lays there with his head hidden, black tufts of hair sticking out from behind your pillow as his shoulders bounce around a throaty chuckle.

Leaving him where he is, you roll over, turn off the fairy lights and plunge your bedroom into cozy, unassailable darkness.

A thick silence falls over the two of you, and the back of your neck begins to prickle, sensing without a shadow of a doubt that the Horseman's eyes are open and watching you. Sure enough, you peel your eyelids apart and find that your far wall is faintly illuminated by the golden light that emanates from his gaze.

Rolling your eyes, you resign yourself to a long night of fighting for your covers and kicking a wriggling Horseman back over onto his own side of the bed. And yet... if it's him, if it's Strife, it most likely won’t bother you in the slightest.

The alarm clock on your bedside table steadily ticks over to the three o'clock mark and you finally feel sleep crawl up behind your eyes. Just as you think you might nod off, however, the bed shakes ever so slightly, and behind you, there's the sound of shuffling sheets. It stops just as suddenly as it starts and you snort, chalking it up to a certain, restless Horseman trying to get used to the human-sized bed.

Several more minutes pass.

The shuffling starts up again, then it stops.

The same thing happens again a few more minutes later and your eyes snap open when something cool and solid nudges gently into the back of your head and you hear a quiet sniff before the whole bed shudders as the enormous Horseman laying upon it releases a monstrously low rumble of contentment.

-----

Strife leaves his helm right behind you all night, not that you'd know until the morning however, when you jerk awake to your bedroom door suddenly slamming open and Death thundering inside. He takes one look at his brother laying at your back and promptly begins a lecture that you're fairly certain will be the favoured topic of neighbourhood gossip for some time to come.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #darksiders 3 #Strife #reader #fluff #sharing a bed!#monster boyfriend #interspecies relationships #blood #injury #whump

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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years ago

Text

I’m Still Hurting (Orc x Reader) Part 2

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2107 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend establish a new normal

A/N: At long last, the highly requested part two! I had a bit of struggle coming up with a proper followup to the first part (which was part of why I left it with an open-ended ending in the first place lol). Little less angst this time, I felt these two deserved a little sweetness after the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

Part 1

The first thing that caught your eye when you walked by the music store was the Grand Piano. It was gorgeous: Polished mahogany, a nice velvet seat, and keys that looked like they had never seen the sticky fingers of a curious 8 year old.

“Wow, is that new?”

You nod, admiring the old-fashioned air of the instrument. You knew jack shit about music, but even you could tell that this piano was an antique, one probably worth a good chunk of change.

“Must be. I’ve never seen it before and this place is on my way to work.”

Waruck hmms, pressing his hands up against the glass. His eyes sparkle when he sees the “Free to Play” sign right next to the piano. It probably reminds him of his Grandpa’s, the one he played when you guys visited his family for Christmas.

That was a long time ago.

“Want to go in?”

Waruck pulls away from the glass, eyebrows raised. He rubs the back of his neck and steps a couple feet back, trying to curb his enthusiasm.

“Uh, we don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind. It's been a while-” You pause, the slight-anxiety in the air making every casual word difficult, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play.”

Waruck smiles, small and polite, and opens the door of the shop for you. Before, he might have done a little bow and said “Ladies First” in a British accent.

But that was before, and this is now. Now, every comment is walking on eggshells, whispered tentatively and under your breath. Testing the waters for how comfortable you two could get around each other.

Still, it was exponential growth from two months ago.

--------

After your meeting at the coffee shop, you had asked Waruck for a month; A month of privacy, for you to collect your thoughts and feelings, to be alone for a bit. He had agreed immediately, shuffling out of the cafe with a hunched back and a melancholy air, but he had kept his promise. You took the time to focus on other things, shifting your relationship to the back of your mind and enjoying the day-to-day.

But a part of you felt a little bad, like maybe you were stringing Waruck along for an inevitable breakup. Getting his hopes up for an extra tortuous punishment that left a sour taste in your mouth. So on one brave Saturday night, you sent him a meme you saw on Instagram, one that reminded you of him.

That second month saw the two of you texting more and more frequently, sending little jokes, asking how your day was, so and so. Each week rebuilt a little bit more of that familiarity, that comfortableness. It finally got to the point where Waruck asked if you were free one weekend. He just wanted to get some lunch and stroll around the neighborhood for a bit. For the first time in a while, that idea didn’t seem too bad.

--------

The air is considerably cooler inside the store, a tiny bell ringing as a rush of air-conditioned air hits both of you. Waruck makes a beeline for the piano, his footsteps short and quick. You feel a smile crawl on your face; He always acted like an excited kid when it came to music.

Waruck plops down in the center of the stool, fingers lightly brushing over the keys in awe. You walk up the piano’s side, laying your hand on the wood and admiring the lack of smudge marks on the polished wood. Waruck tests out a G note and although the sound is short, it’s extremely pleasant. Waruck’s smile grows even larger.

“When I was a young boy…”

You mutter under your breath. Waruck chuckles, quickly continuing onto a G flat.

“My father took me into the city,” Waruck hums

“To see a marching band.” The two of you sing together, laughing a little bit too loudly and gaining a sharp look from the tired sales clerk. Waruck waves a little apology, but that playful grin stays on his face.

“Wow, that brings back some repressed Hot Topic memories.”

“Seriously. I can almost feel the book my band teacher used to thwack me with. Me and my buddies would sneak into the choir room and play that all the time.” Waruck’s fingers dance over a couple more notes, aimless.

You’ve always liked watching Waruck play. His fingers were so dextrous and controlled, not to mention long and nicely articulated. He’d probably make good money from a hand-model side-gig.

“Want to take a seat?”

You shift your focus away from Waruck’s hands. He’s made space on the bench and pats the open space next to him.

“Yeah, sure.” You say, despite the fast pace your heart is now beating.

You keep a solid two inches of distance between your bodies, keeping your thighs together as to not brush your legs with his. It felt like a middle school dance, keeping a bible length away from your partner to avoid the disapproving stare of the chaperones.

Waruck nods, absentmindedly running his fingers up the scale. “Any requests?”

Immediately, all non-love songs depart from your brain. One of your favorite pieces sits on the tip of your tongue and your brain refuses to let it go. You shake your head.

“Nope. It’s all yours, music man.”

Waruck chuckles, a little louder and a lot more comfortable, as he sits deeper in his seat.

“Prepare,” Waruck cracks his knuckles, “to be amazed.”

You bite back a laugh. He’s still such a dork.

He starts to play, his hands easily finding the right keys, moving like a well-oiled machine. Your heart nearly skips a beat before it melts into a puddle of sentiment.

It’s your favorite.

The song brings back memories of your childhood, a rainy day in, and delicious food. It’s like chicken soup for the soul and you can feel any of the left over tension leave your body.

Waruck’s eyebrows furrow with concentration, but he has a large smile on his face, his large tusks peeking out from his lips. His arm stretches across the piano as the song hits its most fast-paced part. His biceps and shoulders lean more into your space, but the feeling isn’t unwelcome. It feels natural, as if his presence and yours is part of the piece itself.

Waruck’s thigh brushes against yours, but his pace doesn’t falter and neither does yours. You stay enraptured, watching how easily he slips into the music. You barely even notice how you have begun to lean closer to his side; Your mind says it’s to give his arms plenty of space to play, but it’s still far more comfortable than you are willing to admit.

How easy it feels, in the moment, to fall back into routine.

The song begins slowing to a stop, only a couple seconds left, when the sounds of the music shop return to you. A giggle from not too far rings discordant with Waruck’s piano.

Three girls stand not too far from you, watching with fascination as Waruck plays.

“Wow, he is so good!” One whispers to her friends.

There is nothing even remotely lascivious in their eyes or in their words, but a knife still twists in your gut. Your throat constricts as flashes of your bedroom, of unanswered texts, and a picture of a bar corner booth send needles down your spine and into your heart.

Is this wrong? Is this giddy feeling you have only distracting you from reality? Is it like this song, Waruck’s playing, beautiful but temporary?

“Ugh, I want what they have.”

“I know, right? How romantic.”

They’re wrong, you’re wrong, this is wrong; It’s fake, fake, fa-

Your eyes dart to and fro, trying to desperately avoid Waruck’s quickly overwhelming body heat and your audience, before it catches on the distorted shape of your reflection in the window.

The glass is old, slightly drooping, even the golden lettering of the music shop’s name looks dusty and sun-bleached.

But what is unmistakable is you and Waruck. Waruck, playing piano, and looking at you. Looking at you with the love in his eyes you thought had died, or had never been there at all. The group of girls stands in the background, small and out of focus.

And Waruck is staring at you.

“Are you okay?” Waruck asks, his warm hand on your shoulder.

You whip your neck around, almost getting whiplash.

You’re here, in the music store, with your boyfriend. He looks at you, brow slightly puzzled from your wild eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I,” You suck in a deep breath, “Sorry, I guess I got lost in my own head. That song gets me kind of nostalgic.”

Waruck pats your shoulder and you miss it’s heat when he pulls it back to his side. He smiles, but you can tell he is still slightly worried.

“No problem, I get it.”

You notice now how much closer Waruck is to you. His chest has shifted towards yours, the fabric of his shirt sleeve pressing against the skin of your bicep. Waruck’s knee absentmindedly knocks into yours, but the contact doesn’t sting or jolt you. Not even the continuing silence makes the situation awkward.

It’s nice.

“Do you want to check out the record aisle? They might actually have that piece on vinyl.”

Waruck gestures with his thumb to the piles of CD’s and records not too far from you two. You nod

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

--------

The two of you spend about an hour in the music store, pointing out hilarious cover art and admiring some vintage finds. Waruck even gets you to chuckle a couple of times, slowly bringing out his old cheesy puns.

Waruck’s missed this.

You two walk out of the music store at the tail end of one of Waruck’s jokes, you playfully punching his shoulder.

The two of you wander, in the opposite direction of your cars, for a little while. But Waruck hasn’t lost track of time; No, he’s soaking in every moment he can, every smile and lingering look you give him. Every reminder that this is real.

He spent a week agonizing over what he did. Stuck in silence as he gave you your space. His friends (His real friends, not those assholes from the bar) had offered to come by and keep him company, but he turned it down.

When Waruck got back into routine, it was slow-rolling. It was difficult to fight the instinct to check his phone for a good-morning text, or check your Instagram for any ‘post-breakup’ partying.

No, he had already broken your trust once. The least he could do was give you some time. Spend some hour not wallowing in self-pity, but actively make a change.

Waruck began to accept those invites to a chill hang out, playing some poker and sipping on beer with the gang. He played his keyboard when the thoughts got too loud and went jogging when the music wasn’t loud enough. He called his mom a couple of times, even sent his sister a couple of texts to catch up. They hadn’t spoken outside of holidays for almost three years.

Maybe he was the one that needed time.

God, why did you have to be so smart?

“Oh shit, how long have we been walking?” You mutter, checking your watch for the time. Waruck turns around you, already knowing the answer was 27 minutes, exactly. The both of you were nearing the edge of the neighborhood, cafes and shops turning into residential suburbs. “Dang, time really flies, huh?”

Waruck smiles.

“With you? It always does.”

You give him a half smile, patting his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re such a cheeseball.”

Waruck winks and shoots you some finger guns.

“You know it babe.”

You giggle, checking your watch once more, face turning just a little bit.

“I should probably head back, I’m getting dinner with some friends tonight.”

A small part of Waruck yearns for more time, but he lets it go.

Space, this was about establishing space.

“I had a lot of fun today, Waruck.” You step a little closer, Waruck’s heart skips a beat.

“Me too.” He whispers, his breath catching as your fingers brush against his.

It’s a simple gesture, one you’ve down a million times. But when your palm slips into his, your finger’s interlocking, it’s like fireworks have gone off.

“Same time, next week?”

Waruck nods, not trusting himself to speak without a voice crack.

That’s all he needed, all you wanted; The promise of the future.

“Yes, I would love that.”

#my writing #orc x reader #reader insert #female reader insert #orc/human #monster/human #monster x reader #monster/reader #angst #orc

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peonierose · 2 years ago

Text

”My love won’t let you down.“

Book: Open Heart

Rating: Fluff with a little bit of heartbreak.

Pairing: Soraya Auclair x Luna Auclair

Word count: 2,000+

Summary: Soraya got her heart broken and she’s being consoled by family.

Side note: All characters belong to Pixelberry, except my OC‘s.

Here’s the music that inspired me for this fic.

This story wasn’t pre-read, so please excuse any errors on my part. Please enjoy ☺️

Author‘s note: I’m participating in this weeks last @wackydrabbles - the prompt is ”This was really,really good.“ 🥺 and it will appear in color and bold. I wanted to thank you guys for making wacky drabbles this amazing. For continuously posting, reblogging, supporting writers and readers. Answering questions and the like. As sad as I am that this is the last wacky drabble, even though I wish I’d participated more, I’m glad I could be a part of it . 😍❤️ Hopefully there’ll be something similar as wacky drabbles coming and it’ll be as equally amazing as you guys. So thank you again 💚

”If you're cold and alone when you wake

Making all of the same mistakes

When your heart's given all that it had

But they say they don't love you back

When the party's over and your friends have all gone

And you're wondering where it all went wrong

I'll come running when you call out my name

And it'll always be this way

I'll be there for you

No matter what you're going through

I'll be there with you

Anytime that you need me to

When there's no one else around

On your last breath, calling out

Trust me, my love won't let you down“

It’s a beautiful Saturday morning. B and I are in the middle of driving to my aunt and uncle’s place to have breakfast with my cousins.

My uncle and my aunt went camping, while my cousins are staying at their parents place.

The blue sea is sparkling in the sunlight. While a summer breeze is wafting through our open Jeep. Letting in the salty wind, bringing with it a hint of hibiscus. I hang my head out the window and Bryce takes one look at me and laughs.

”You’re like a dog, all you need is your tongue hanging out to the side,“ he comments and takes a left turn.

I try it but only look ridiculous in the end.

”I wish my tongue was longer that way I could actually let it hang out like a little dog,“ I say sadly.

He shakes his head.

”This is officially the weirdest conversation that you and I had this far,“ he says and we get closer to my aunt and uncles place.

It’s this huge house that they’ve been looking for such a long time and when they finally found it they were over the moon.

It’s located close to the beach.

There’s a huge lawn, adorning the place. A two-story house, made out of wood on the outside and painted a marvelous jade green. Surf boards are leaned against the outside of the house.

Palm trees, and flower beds with vibrant colored flowers adorning their home.

My aunt even planted some herbs, vegetables and fruits in her own garden.

Bryce is parking the Jeep, while I get out and take the cookies with white chocolate chunks, macadamia nuts and fresh raspberries I made for later.

I balance them and Bryce walks around to take the box out of my hands.

I kiss him on him on his nose.

”Such a gentleman,“ I tease him and smile while we walk to the front door and knock.

”Oh I can be bad,“ he says his dark eyes twinkling in the sunlight.

”You can show me later,“ I say and kiss him just as the door opens.

”Don’t you have your own place where you can make out?“

Sky says annoyed.

”Love you too cuz,“ I say and Sky gives me a hug, then he and Bryce have their weird man hug. We then enter the house and walk inside.

It’s always so sunny and warm inside. All the white and little splashes of color adding a nice touch. It always felt like a second home to me.

”Yeah yeah I’ve heard that one before,“ he says though he smiles sweetly.

”Why are you so grumpy?“ I ask walking towards the open spaced kitchen.

He sighs

”Because my sisters are saying how it’s wrong to put in cereal first and then pour milk over them,“ he says and picks up a violet bowl and munches on froot loops.

I snort and put the cookies down on the counter. Greeting Evie and Soraya with hugs and kisses to the cheek.

I lean against the counter and smile at him.

”That’s what you’re debating about?“ I ask laughing.

But when there’s deafening silence I stop laughing.

”You guys are taking this way too serious. It’s an easy answered question. You first put in the cereal and then pour the milk,“ I say hearing gasps from Soraya, Evie and even Bryce.

Sky envelops me in a big hug, milk sloshing in his bowl, and a pink fruit loop is sticking to his cheek. How did it even get there in the first place?

I point to it, he grabs it and puts in his mouth. I watch him weirded out and he just shrugs.

”See Loonsey is on my side, she totally gets it,“ he gloats.

He whistles to himself as he’s rinsing the bowl and then putting it in the dishwasher.

We all get seated at the big table. An array of food is put on the table.

Bowls of fruits. All local.

Bagels, fig jam that my aunt made herself, cream cheese mixed with chives.

Banana blueberry pancakes, with maple syrup.

”Are you trying to feed an army of people?“

Soraya is the one who answers

”No just Bryce and Sky, since those two can eat like an army of six,“ she says her voice tired.

When I look at her I’m noticing the bags under her eyes. Getting concerned I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. She squeezes my hand back.

”Oh come on don’t be mad at Looney, just because she likes my method of cereal more,” he says.

”Screw you Sky,“ she says her tone dangerously low.

Sky sighs.

”Ever since you and A…“ he starts.

”Don’t,“ she says and tenses up.

Bryce and I share a look.

Soraya nibbles on a slice of orange.

”I’m just saying you’ve been in a bad mood,“ he says carefully.

She turns to him

”How would you know? Your relationships last five minutes. If you can even call them that,“ she says

He inhales sharply.

”Neither do yours. Just look at you. If this is what being in love is like, I’ll pass thanks,“ he says

Soraya gets up and walks out.

Evie looks at Sky, her brows knitted. Her lips pursed.

”Great. Just great,“ she says

He looks at her in turn.

”Don’t give me that look. You know I didn’t mean it like that,“ he sighs and rubs a hand over his tired eyes.

Evie sips on her grapefruit juice in silence and the emotions are rolling high around the table.

I’m the first to speak up

”Did we miss something? How did a debate about cereal and milk turn into this?“ I gesture at the table.

Bryce is munching on a piece of pancake, and I squat his arm and he almost spits out the piece of pancake.

”What? I’m hungry. But I’m sorry that Sor got hurt,“ he says in a quiet voice.

Sky plays with his silver bracelet

”She got dumped, and now she’s miserable…and I just made it worse,“ he sighs again. Looking deflated.

I rub his arm gently and smile at him.

”She just needs time to get over it. It’s too much right. I think she’s too wound up now,“ I say and get up from my chair.

They all look at me.

”I’ll see if she wants some company,“ I say and Bryce looks at me and seems to be asking if I’m sure and I just nod, giving him a light kiss.

Taking the box of cookies with me and walking down the path that leads from their home right down to the beach.

I can make out her shape in her light green sweater, while she’s hugging her knees.

I smile softly.

”I knew I’d find you here,“ I say sitting down beside her.

She looks up and wipes away some tears with the back of her hand.

I smile and open the box of cookies.

She gives me a watery smile.

”I shouldn’t have stormed out like that,“ she starts

”You have a right to how you feel. Sky was out of line, but he loves you. He didn’t mean it the way it came out,“ I say reassuringly.

She leans her head onto my shoulder.

I give her a kiss on her head.

”What happened?“ I ask her.

She sighs against me and I feel her warm breath against my skin.

”Well I don’t if we talked about this…with how busy we’ve both have been lately…but I found myself feeling more and more attracted to men and women. So I started going out with this woman her name is Alisha. Everything seemed great and I wanted to take her to Hayley‘s and Ethan’s wedding as a plus one…but, “ she drifts off and takes another cookie and continues.

”She said how she’s not ready for everyone to know. I was nervous too. When I told mom and dad they weren’t exactly thrilled, but they slowly started accepting me the way I am. But I fell hard for her and then she just broke up with me out of the blue,“ she wipes another tear away.

I hug her tighter.

”I know this isn’t what you want to hear but I think you’re better off without her. I think her fear of what people would think about her took over and she got scared and ran away, metaphorically speaking,“ I say and go on

”You’re such a wonderful person Raya. You’ll see the right person will stumble along when you least expect it to. That’s how it was with me and Bryce,” I stroke her hair gently and she just lets out sobs and I can feel my own eyes water, from seeing her this hurt over someone she’s clearly still in love with.

———————————————————

After some time, when the sun is starting to set and the box of cookies is empty, only leaving some crumbs, we get up and dust our clothes off from any remaining sand.

That‘s when Sky joins us. I leave them be and walk back towards the house. Illuminated from the inside.

As I turn around I can see them hugging and teasing each other and I grin.

I hate it when family fights. It’s so much more sweeter when they make up.

———————————————————

Later we’re all gathered around the fire pit. I’m nestled next to Bryce, wearing his warm jacket.

The others put on light jackets too.

We’re roasting some s‘mores and drinking some wine.

Laughing and joking around. Just like old times.

Evie is just telling an embarrassing story about Sky.

Who tries to throw marshmallows at her for her to stop telling the story, but she catches the marshmallows with her hands.

”One time we were at the beach and we only saw Sky running away screaming. At first we thought he was hurt. Turns out he ran away from a turtle,“ Soraya laughs so hard.

”I was four,“ Sky says defensively.

Evie laughs so hard the sip of wine she took almost comes out of her nose.

”Oh my god that’s even worse,“ Bryce says taking a sip of his beer.

”Or remember that one time…“ Sor says

”No more embarrassing stories of Sky. That was it,“ he says

”Do you have any embarrassing stories of Luna?“ I can hear Bryce asking next to me.

Sky smiles mischievously

”Oh I have one,“ he smiles in my direction smirking.

I know instantly which one he means.

”When Luna was about 3 or 4 she stayed with gramps and grammy. She was curious and felt bored so she opened the fridge and climbed into it. She planted face first into blackberry pie, “ Sky wriggles his eyebrows in a playful matter.

I bury my face in Bryce’s neck.

He laughs and looks at me and says

”Little Lu being adventurous. So cute,“ he takes another swig of his drink and asks

”So what happened?“

Soraya is on the ground from all the laughing.

Evie answers in between laughs.

”Grandma almost had a heart attack, because she thought Looney was hurt, because she was nestled between pickles and her face was in blackberry pie. Thankfully nothing happened,“ Evie finished the story.

Everyone is laughing and I chime in after a few seconds.

”What can I say. I love me some pie. I have to say that was really really good 🥺,“ I say munching on another s’more.

My cousins are still hollering with laughter at the fridge story.

We stay like this for some time and share heart warming stories about our families. About people we met and cared for.

It’s funny sometimes you’ll meet people and they’ll surprise you by accepting you the way you are. Loving you unconditionally.

That’s the difference between people who are meant to stay in your life and who care about you, next to those who are passing by and are only your friends temporarily.

As I look at the dwindling flames and my cousins and Bryce. All I see is family and love.

That’s the way it’s supposed to be. Never was I more glad that things that happened led me to this moment right here.

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#open heart #Soraya Auclair #Luna Auclair #wacky drabbles #Bryce Lahela #Sky Auclair #Evie Auclair #My love won’t let you down #Little Mix #Ariana Grande #song inspo

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capt-spooki3 · 3 years ago

Text

By The Witch's Grace

Chapter Two

A Sbi "choose your own story" fanfiction

Click here for story description

Warning: cursing, mention of knives

4.5k words

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The morning came faster than Y/n anticipated. Waking up to the early morning sun in their eyes and the soft chirping or singing of birds was normal. But what they didn’t expect, after years upon years of being alone and fearing any other human contact, was to hear soft voices coming from the direction of their kitchen. They got up slowly from bed, the anxiety building up in their chest even more as Poppy wasn’t lying on the bed as she was very morning. A knife laid on a dresser on the far end of their room that they snatchd quickly before creeping out their already open door and moving as quiet as they could down the hall. They took a good look at the spare rooms with the doors wide open when they usually are always closed.

They stopped at the end of the hall that led to the kitchen and dining room area to listen to whatever voices were speaking. Their brows furrowed, foggy recognition swirling in their half asleep and anxiety wired brain.

“Phiiillll I’m cold! Can’t you just, you know, make Wil go mess with the fireplace?”

“Tommy- shush! You’re gonna wake Y/n up. And no, we can wait until they are up. I don’t want to get into their things.”

“Hi Poppy, oh you are so cute, is your owner up too? Oh you’re cute.”

“...meow.”

Finally, it clicked in their brain and connected it to the people they let stay last night. Relief flooded through them in a wave causing them to let out an audible sigh, the voices in the kitchen immediately going quiet. Barley audible muttering followed before soft footsteps approached the hall and they felt their body tense up at this.

Suddenly a tusked face filled their vision and had them pinned to the wall before they could even think, his expression had them too terrified to move anyway. The grimace on his face was intense, pink eyes filled with concentration and they could swear there was a growl from deep in his chest. From this close though, they were able to see a bit of scruff growing along his face, it really was pink too like the hair on his head. He was off of them in an instant though as he recognized them as anything other than a threat. His features softened fast into something almost friendly. Almost.

“Ah- sorry, didn’t know that was you why do you have a dagger?” His sentences merged as his eyes settled to the knife they held at their chest. The hardened look beginning to return to his features, shifting ever closer to intimidate them.

“I- h-hold on, no no, it’s not. I’M not-” They panicked and pressed themself farther against the wall, breath growing faster and eyes darting around to find and escape. They knew they were no match for a man as large as him and would have no chance trying to fight.

Maybe choosing to trust the bunch so fast really was a bad idea.

Out of the corner of their eye, they could see Phil slide into view. His hair tied back and a spatula in hand with the the top of his robes off his top and showing the casual short sleeved shirt underneath.

“Techno, let them go, it's fine! I’m sure we just startled them, we're new here.” He said in a scolding voice to his son who looked at him in concern. Phil sighed and walked up to Y/n, guiding them past Techno and into the kitchen with a kind look and smile.

“Besides, remember they said that they haven’t had people home in a long time. I don't blame you one bit Y/n, I’m sorry for him. A bit protective, that one.”

They gave a soft laugh to accompany Phil’s laughter and walked to the kitchen counter to put the knife down. Looking over, Tommy was turned around in his chair to watch Phil in the kitchen and Wilbur who was across from him, wearing round thin rimmed glasses, waved at Y/n with a smile to which he easily received a wave back.

“Good morning, hope you slept well.”

“Gooood morning!” Tommy said with a raised hand to be a gesture of hello.

They nodded and looked over the food Phil had put together to cook, the thought of it being poisoned hung in their mind for a bit before they turned back to the boys.

“I did sleep well, thank you. I hope the four of you did as well, the snow storm must have left you all cold last nig- OH! It’s cold in here! I'm so sorry, let me go throw some wood in the fireplace.” They rushed out and started to hurry toward the main living area before Wilbur shot up, making them stop to look at him.

“Hey no no, just tell me where the wood is. I can do it.” He offered, briskly walking over to them and putting his hand on their shoulder. The tension in their body must have caught his eye because he retracted his hand.

“Oh um, it’s downstairs. The room you all came in through last night. It’s stacked against the wall.”

“Great, I’ll be quick.” Wilbur smiled and raced off, he must have been cold with how eagerly he ran off to get the fireplace up and running.

“Thank you uh- Wilbur!” They called out after him, not even knowing if he heard them. Shaking away the worry, they turned back to Phil who was busy cooking.

“And Phil, you didn’t have to cook. I can take over for you-”

“Absolutely not!” He raised up the spatula to emphasize his point, wings puffing up a little where they were smaller feathers next to where it connected to his body. That’s when they noticed how the shirt he wore was made specifically to accommodate his wings. The back was almost entirely cut out of it but connected around to appear like a normal shirt from the front.

They sighed and walked over to the counter, holding onto it as they leaned forward a tad.

“Can I help then?” They pressed but Phil wasn't able to retort before Tommy was breaking his little bit of silence.

“Or you could come talk to me, I’m bored as fuck over here. Come! Come, sit. I have questions.” He said in an intrigued tone, making both Y/n and Phil laugh a bit. They gave in and left Phil to cooking reluctantly and sat across from Tommy. He spun around to face them and his hands in front of him with elbows on the table.

Direcrecting their attention past Tommy, they watched Techno walk to Phil and lean on the counter to talk with him. Tommy was quick to get their attention again though.

"So what do you think of women?”

“Excuse me?” Y/n said with a laugh, not expecting the question. He just leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he let out a big breath.

“Hah… you’re pretty cool. So far. But! You see, a lot of people find me rather annoying when they first meet me. You don’t think so, do you?” He pressed and looked them square in the eyes.

“I mean- no. No you seem alright, pretty nice I’d say.” They were genuine. They wanted to be friendly with these people if possible, maybe make a friend, but their guard was way up still. There was still the small possibility the bunch was out to hurt them.

“Really!? Hell yes- oh I knew you were one fantastic individual.” Tommy exclaimed, getting up out of his seat, movements being very lively and animated. Wilbur walked up behind him to push him back down into his seat by his shoulder.

“Don’t worry you’ll find him annoying soon enough.” Wilbur shoved his younger brother a bit and looked at Y/n. They laughed and met his gaze, finding it odd just how much of his undivided attention he was giving them. He cleared his throat and looked away quickly and turned to speak in Phil’s direction.

“Um, so I checked outside to see how the snow was fairing. It’s still a blizzard out there and the snow is thick.” Wilbur looked back to Y/n with a sympathetic look. “Y/n I think we may have to overstay our welcome until the snow dies down and melts off a bit.”

“It’s no issue, you all are welcome to stay until you’re fit to leave, besides,” They stood up, looking at the family, “Maybe this will give me some good karma or something for the future.” Tommy scoffed and made a quiet retort they couldn't make out but didn’t waste time asking him about it. Y/n passed by Wilbur, giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder in return for his action earlier, and grabbed a loaf of bread from the counter.

“Phil, thank you for cooking, but that is all for you four okay? I have to go feed my livestock.”

“Y/n it’s freezing-” Phil tried to stop them but Y/n stubbornly butted in.

“I know, I’ll be fine though. Wouldn’t be the first time.” They took a chunk out of the bread and bit into it before setting off to get feed for the animals.

It took no time for them to get a large bucket filled with feed, they recently stocked up so there wasn’t any worry of running out. Quickly, they ran down to the basement where Poppy had run off to much earlier to give her food. Once they came back upstairs, they grabbed and carried the rather heavy bucket to the door so they could put on their cloak, hoping it would be enough to keep them warm.

With a deep breath to prepare themself, they lifted the bucket and went to open the door.

“Wait. Don’t go running off just yet.” Looking back, Technoblade was walking down the stairs and pulling on a thick shirt that seemed like it was one worn under his armor. He shook out his hair from the shirt and grabbed the bucket from Y/n who in turn looked at him. Surprised and rather confused.

“You didn’t really think Phil was going to let you walk out of here that easy did you?” Techno said with a soft laugh to himself, looking down at the feed thoughtfully as he answered himself, “No, he’s a stubborn man.”

Y/n couldn’t fight a smile, seeing the formerly guarded individual become soft at the thought of his father.

“Mhm clearly.” They added before opening the door up to thickly falling snow. The occasional strong gusts of wind weren’t helping their situation either. “Sure you wanna join though? It’s not gonna be easy.”

Techno pushed past them into the freezing land that was their property, not seeming to care about even helping them and wanted to get this done.

Y/n closed the door, flipping up their hood and trudging out after the large man. The snow was easily covering their ankles already and still growing with no sign of stopping. They bumped into Techno's back when he stopped suddenly and looked up at him, backing up a little as they hadn't been looking out where they were walking.

"I don't know where I'm going." Techno said loudly over the wind in a tone that indicated they should have been in the lead in the first place.

"Oh- right um," They looked around to see where they were before walking closer to the tree line so they could walk along it. "It'll be this way!"

No words were passed between them from that point. Y/n tried to ask him questions on who he and his family were or where they came from when he was close to them, but the man only would grimace before walking on to empty the bucket for the few sheep they owned. The chores were done much faster than usual, not having time to sit and enjoy time with their animals in such weather.

Thankfully, Techno was quick to leave Y/n's presence once they passed through the doorway. No awkward standing around. Though they didn't blame him, he wanted to be back with his family other than a stranger. The feeling was mutual to an extent.

After ridding themself of the wet or dirty clothes and replacing them, they snuck down the hall to see what the group was doing. Phil, Wilbur, and Tommy were sitting at the table. Phil and Wilbur had empty plates in front of them while Tommy was still working on his food. The three of them were chatting quietly and occasionally one of them would wrangle Techno into the conversation who stood against the wall near the table, eating his own breakfast. They all looked so at peace here, like it was the first time they could just sit and chat and enjoy each other's company.

Not wanting to intrude, even though it was their own home, Y/n left back down the hallway that connected the three rooms. Formerly the rooms were used for storage, but it wasn't too much of a mess to clean once it was needed. They didn't have the time to get out two old futons they had last night so, silently they worked on moving the makeshift beds in hopes to make the family's stay a bit more comfortable. With that idea in mind, Y/n spent the rest of the day until the evening with their mind on autopilot as they cleaned and tidied up the two rooms. The only thing making them stop was the deep rumbling of their stomach.

Smoothing out a blanket on the futon, they reluctantly left the room and trudged down the hall. The feeling of hunger and overworking themself was finally kicking in now. Entering the kitchen, they were surprised to only see Phil, sitting at the dining room table and peacefully reading an old book that they had long forgotten on the nearby shelf.

"Hey Phil, where are..the boys?" Y/n hesitated, hoping he wouldn't mind them referring to his sons as such. His smile as he looked at the book spoke all the words of reassurance Y/n needed.

"They are outside playing in the snow since it's not a blizzard anymore. Been a while since they have gotten the chance. What about you mate?" He looked up from the pages to look them over, "You seem tired."

"Ah, a tad. But I was going to make supper. How are you all with goulash?"

"Excuse me?"

"It's a type of soup, one my Oma taught to me. I'll make it for you all tonight, it makes a lot so it's perfect." Y/n said, their tone light. There was a bit of excitement in being able to cook for them. Something new.

Phil closed his book and made his way into the kitchen, watching as Y/n scrambled around to make sure they had all the ingredients and mumbling to themself.

"I can help if you'd like." He offered and they stopped, contemplating it for just a moment before giving a quick reply.

"No, I've got this. You could keep me company though if you'd like. You seemed a little lonely."

He leaned back against the counter as he watched them work with ease. They must have made this recipe enough to have it memorized.

"Well I was thinking actually."

When he stopped, they looked at him to see him looking intently at them.

"How can we repay you?"

"What?"

"I owe you my life, we would have frozen to death. You know that, Y/n. Please, how can we repay you for your kindness." Phil insisted with an intense look in his eyes. It was clear to see he put a lot of thought into the justification of repaying them.

"Well...I think you all will be spending a bit here so how about I get back to you on that, okay?"

He looked unsatisfied with such an answer, almost pouty with feathers fluffing a bit as he huffed.

"I just have to think about it, I promise!" They laughed as they tried to console him. "You clearly don't have anywhere else to go anyway. Not like I'll just kick you out once the snow clears."

Phil didn’t seem like he was expecting to hear such a kind reason as instead of making some retort, he went quiet. A conflicted look on his face, he crossed his arms close to his chest. Staying quiet, but not leaving the kitchen while Y/n cooked. They didn’t try and press him to talk either with the new information of him desperately wanting to repay their kindness. It was a heavy thing to ponder. Do they abuse this? Or would it be smart to give some sort of half hearted and kind offer? Maybe they could ask for them to stay.

An unclear amount of time passed while they cooked, mostly in their mind and so was Phil it seemed, but the loud opening and closing of the door followed by Tommy's voice, as he almost raced to the kitchen, told them the boys were done outside.

“Holy fuck, I’m starving and that smells so good!” He ran over to see what Y/n was cooking, the childlike excitement and happiness was simply sparkling in his eyes. When not receiving a reply, Tommy looked up at Y/n quizzically which snapped them out of their trace.

“It’s goulash.” They told him and offered him the wooden spoon they were using to see if he wanted to taste. He looked at the spoon then them and seemed unsure on if he really was allowed. “It’s good.” is all they said before moving the spoon toward him again.

He took the spoon and tried the amount that was on it for him. His response came rather quick after taking a second to process the new taste.

“That’s really good, is it done?” He asked eagerly and looked at them. Y/n couldn't help but giggle a bit, almost giving in and ruffling his hair, but instead walked around him to grab five bowls and spoons so they could eat.

“Yeah, it is. Where is Wilbur and Technoblade? Did you leave them out there?”

Tommy just rolled his eyes with a little scoff, reaching over to gently take a bowl from Y/n’s hands.

“They got all pissed off at each other and are trying to kill each other in a snowball fight. I TRIED to get them to come inside, but noooo. Finding out who would win was more important.” he mumbled more, something about Wilbur and they heard their own name mentioned. Even though they couldn’t hear what was said, Phil sure did as he piped up quickly and reached over to lightly smack Tommy on the arm.

“Tommy!” He hissed with a displeased expression.

“Ow! What the hell!" Tommy glared back at Phil but after a second of silent communication between the two, he just sighed in defeat, “That was too much I’m sorry. Don't want Wil to beat my ass.” He snickered and Phil couldn’t help but join in a little. He kept a hand on Tommy’s shoulder when he reached over to take a bowl for himself.

“Thank you Y/n, I don’t mean to put the pressure on you to do this, but maybe you could yell at those two that it’s time to eat? I feel like they might listen to you.”

“Oh, of course. I hope you both enjoy it, I’ll be right back.” They set down the bowls, giving the spoons an extra tap on the counter with a glance back at them to tell them that is where the spoons were once they got their food. With that, they made their way to the front door, not really knowing what to expect. Y/n took in a deep breath and swung the door open just to be greeted by a hard snowball in the chest. They staggered back a step out of surprise, their hand on their chest then looked up to see Wilbur with his hands over his mouth and Techno dropping his arm full of snowballs as he doubled over laughing.

“OH MY GOD! Oh god- I am SO sorry!!” Y/n could see his face flushed red with embarrassment from here. They laughed a little at the situation and decided to take a bit of pity on the snow covered boys and not give into the urge to hurl a snowball at him

“Yep that’s- that’s alright. I just wanted to tell you that supper is ready, get your asses inside.” Their tone was light hearted as they brushed off the left over on their shirt.

“Right- right I’m sorry again, we will be right in!”

With that, Y/n closed the door and immediately heard bantering back and forth from the two though it was too muffled tpo make out the words. They made their way back into the kitchen to finally relieve their hunger to immediately be questioned.

“The fuck happened?” Tommy turned himself halfway around the chair, the same one he sat in this morning, to fully soak a possible scene.

“Well I opened up the door and got caught in the crossfire of their little battle out there.” They spoke while fixing their bowl, hearing Tommy wheeze out with laughter, “Needless to say, they are coming in soon.”

As if summoning them, the front door opened up. Y/n hopped up on the counter to eat their food and see the boys walk in. Techno was first, raking a hand through his messy and wet hair with Wilbur right behind him. With the snow rapidly melting on them it was soaking their clothes even more.

Snickering a bit, Y/n turned their attention to their bowl, “I put all the spare clothes I had in both of the rooms. Please go change.” They sounded more like a mother than anything and Tommy sure found that hilarious as he busted out laughing again, leaving them to go change.

Nearly no time passed and they were back to get their food, Y/n being right there to direct them where the utensils and bowl were. The two went and sat at the table and the family began slowly chatting about little unimportant things. To Y/n, the peaceful chatter was pure music to their ears. As much as they hate to admit it, they deeply missed the little joys of a domestic life with others. Just the little daily things and being in the company of other people.

Happily, they ate in silence while the family was enveloped in their happy little bubble of conversation. Even once finished, they stayed on the counter and listened to the conversation until Poppy trotted into the kitchen with a big meow to tell Y/n she was hungry for her dinner. The meow was loud enough to make Wilbur stop talking to "aww" at the cat. Y/n hopped off the counter and washed their bowl before turning back to the cat.

“Alright baby, are you hungry?” Poppy meowed again and impatiently walked around so Y/n would follow her into the basement to eat. “Okay, you all can wash the bowls when you’re done. I’ll be in the basement if you need me. There is a set of stairs in the ground floor that leads to it.” With that, they waved the family off and followed their excited and meowing feline down to eat.

About 30 minutes had passed and they were sitting in the basement where they had their magic things stored and three book cases which were filled. They sat in one of the two plush chairs that sat between the three walls of books, humming a soft song while flipping absentmindedly through a book and trying to find a certain page. Poppy was full and laying on their lap fast asleep

“Um, hey. Y/n?” Came the soft calling of Wilbur as he took a few steps down the stairs and meeting eyes with them. He looked around the room as he was curious to what it looked like but returned his attention to them.

“Hi, do you need something?”

“Well, no, but the others are going to bed and I wanted to know if..” He trailed off, walking down the stairs to nearly the bottom while staring at all their books. "If I could come read with you, actually.”

Y/n was taken aback a little, but frankly the idea sounded nice.

“Of course, I’m sure You will be able to find something here you like.” They watched him walk to the farthest shelf from them and skim over it, trying to find a book.

“You know, I was never given the chance to sit down and read like this. But I’ve always wanted to learn,” He plucked a book off the shelf and turned it around to show them the cover, “About music.”

“Really?”

“Really. It has always been a topic that has enticed me. I used to write little songs in the small bits of free time I was so graciously granted.” He exaggerated as he plopped down in the chair beside them, not so slyly looking them over and smiling before getting comfy and opening the cover.

“I guess you’re in luck then, I have five or six other books on music and I think two that are filled with sheet music.” They said in an offer to him before flipping back through the book to find their desired page.

A few minutes of comfortable silence went on between them, Y/n occasionally seeing him look at them out of the corner of their eye. He took in a deep breath and adjusted his glasses then rested his head on his hand which was propped up on the arm of the chair.

“Do you play?”

“Excuse me?”

“Like, an instrument.”

“Oh, well, I used to. I played guitar though it’s been at least a year or two since I’ve even tried to play anything.” They laughed a little, glancing at Wilbur who was scanning his book.

“Have you been interested in learning anything else?”

“Oh absolutely, though I don't think I have the expenses to buy a new instrument from anywhere. At least not here.”

Wilbur hummed softly in reply, obviously thinking over their reply though the conversation died out after that as he seemed to become engrossed in the pages whilis Y/n found the page they had been searching for.

It would cross their mind a bit how nice this was. despite no talking, they were able to spend time with someone in their most comfortable environment.

Who would have known a snow storm would gift them people who weren’t here to hurt them.

People that wanted to get to know them even.

They could get used to this.

[Chapter Three]

___________________________________________

-tag list-

@can-i-fangirl-yet @spit-rot @sproudi @omgthatonenerd06 @acemt @wahman @m-etr3m8 @pog-sad-muffin @quiche-inoya @lea-the-foxe @sbi-is-my-onlysanity @smol-spoopy @chey-the-simp @p1gst3p @silvemistxe33 @cl0udy-grey @sweetchillipeppers @sharpcheese

(srry for the late mention I'm LITERALLY a boomer when it comes to tumblr-)

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gentlemancrow · 3 years ago

Note

14: “I’m screwed” shippy JMart :) 💚

Ehehe this one got away from me a little bit! But ask for shippy Jmart get a gushy mooshy Crow! Please enjoy! ; w ;

“I’m screwed…”

Martin watched helplessly through the slats of the yellowed blinds on Jon’s office window as his entire life went up in flames. He dimly recalled some trite old saying about seeing one’s life flash before one’s eyes before the moment of unceremonious besmirching from the cruel mortal coil, but for him it was more of a hysterical repeated rewinding of every single bumbling misstep that had orchestrated his imminent demise.

From the moment he decided he had just enough time before work to pop into the Tesco for the usual bouquet of flowers for his visit to his mother later in the day, to the snap decision to get the one made of tulips, bright crimson, orange, and yellow like a flame, rather than the usual white lilies, all the way up to entering the institute, Elias stuffing a file for Jon in his already laden arms, and then the chaos that had erupted as he attempted to deliver it, he lived it all over again. First there was something about the kettle being on the fritz, and obviously since he used it the most frequently, clearly he knew how to repair errant electronic kitchen devices. He was halfway through chastising Tim for false equivalencies in his logic when Sasha had breezed past and asked for a report he’d supposed to be finished with the day prior, and somewhere in the snarking with Tim and the flailing over his dereliction of duty the flowers had been abandoned on Jon’s desk and the file tucked under his arm instead.

By the time Martin realized he was missing something bulky and crinkly and fragrant it was too late. Jon was already in his office, tatty messenger bag still looped around his chest, forgotten, staring at the fiery bouquet on his desk with the scientific method scrolling visibly through his pupils as he regarded it like a corpse on an autopsy table, hand in a fist with his thumb pressed to his lips. Martin had never wished harder for some sort of horrific creature of the darkness to strike the institute again and just devour him whole this time to put him out of his misery.

“You’re what, mate?” Tim’s adjacent query only intensified that desire.

“Tim! SHUSH!” he squeaked, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and hauling him out of the line of sight from the office window.

“Easy there, big guy!” he laughed, “What’s all the hullabaloo?”

“I’m SCREWED. Big time,” Martin moaned, burying his face, which had been bright scarlet since the moment his hubris had roosted, into his hands, “See those flowers in there? I bought those for my usual trip to see my mum this afternoon but somehow between you being an idiot and me also being an idiot and forgetting to finish that report I sort of… left them there… by accident…”

Jon, meanwhile, had finally set his bag down and had circled his desk like a vulture. He reached out with delicate fingers like forceps and pinched the very edge of the card to inspect it, which, unfortunately, only added to the mystery with its coquettish blankness, as Martin had yet to fill it in. Tim watched, nonplussed.

“So? What’s the big deal about that? Just go explain it to him and I’m sure he�� Oh. OH,” he cackled as realization dawned on him, “Yeah, nope you’re screwed.”

“Thanks…”

“Ahh, don’t sweat it. The man’s so thick I’m sure he thinks it’s just a prank or some continued spooky attempt on his life or something. The absolute last thing he would think would be that you of all people would…” Tim stopped himself in the withering blue glare blazing at him from behind round spectacles, “Anyway, again, this is Jon we’re talking about. He’ll just treat it like some weird cosmic mystery until he burns himself out on it or the next one shows up.”

“Y-Yeah but-“

“Just go explain! Unless you want to watch him wriggle about it like a fish on a hook all day. Which I am diametrically unopposed to, by the way, sounds absolutely hilarious.”

Martin winced, hating the idea of being the missing chunk of code that caused Jon’s brain to glitch for the remainder of the day, and sucked in a breath between his teeth.

“No, no you’re right,” he sighed, “Just… no flowers at my funeral if he kills me, okay?”

“Kate Bush songs only, got it, yep.”

Martin rolled his eyes, not dignifying that with a response, and shuffled on mechanical feet to the closed door of Jon’s office. He rapped lightly a few times before pushing his way in, smiling sheepishly at the head archivist who had clearly just unceremoniously flung himself in front of the mysterious bouquet to hide it from view.

“Martin!” he barked, “What in the hell are you-“

“Uh, just needed to talk to you for a second.”

He closed the door behind him

“Oh, uh… about wh-“

“About those, actually,” Martin confessed through his teeth, pointing, mortified, at the coy spray of flaming tulips peeking out from behind Jon’s hip.

He whipped around to look at them, then back to his assistant, then back to the flowers again, the blush that only ever seemed to find the tips of his ears glowing like two carmine rosebuds there.

“…You?”

That unreadable earthy brown gaze, somewhere between wilting regency heroine and venomous snake ready to strike with fangs bared, harpooned Martin directly to the heart.

“No! God no! S-Sorry!” he yelped, flailing his hands defensively in the air, “I-I mean they are mine, yes, b-but I-! Th-They’re for my mum! I-I try to visit her in her care home if I can on Fridays, and I always bring her some flowers! I was supposed to be dropping off a file for you, but then Tim was hounding me about the broken kettle and Sasha needed that damned report and I was all mixed up and I… I forgot them here. On your desk. Your desk of all places. I still have the file and um… T-Trade you? Hah…”

Jon’s finely sculpted brow shifted from pinched, to bemused, to a strange, sorrowful relief as Martin finished lamely in falsetto and he chuckled under his breath.

“Ah… right. Right! I thought for a second someone might have um…” he snorted breathlessly, “Hah, I knew that was a preposterous notion.”

The metaphysical harpoon still in Martin’s chest shattered in icy shards of anguish as his heart collapsed under the weight of itself.

“Wh- Jon, is it really that preposterous a notion someone might want to bring you flowers?” he asked, crushed.

Jon flourished a flippant, elegant hand.

“Come on Martin, this is me we’re talking about. I’ve never gotten flowers once in my life. I’m not the kind of person people think to buy flowers for. It’s not a big deal.”

“Well then let me be the first!” Martin insisted, his mouth and heart moving in tandem before his brain could stop them.

Jon’s brow creased again.

“What? Good lord no, I’m not going to take the flowers you bought for your mother. Who is also in a care home, mind.”

“I’d much rather give them to you.”

The skeptical expression marring Jon’s face did little to hide the blush flourishing at the tips of his ears again.

“Look. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Martin elaborated shyly, “Friends can send each other flowers. And honestly? My mum doesn’t even like them… no matter what kind I bring. They usually end up being for her nurse instead. So I… I think they’ll have a much better home with you.”

A tiny smile quirked the corner of Jon’s mouth, snipping an invisible thread that softened his entire face into something innocent and full of wonder.

“I see. If you’re sure, I suppose I could…”

“I’m very sure,” Martin replied without hesitation, “Just tell people an old friend sent them out of the blue, or you have a secret admirer or something!”

“Well I don’t know about all that, but-” Jon chuckled, smiling softly, “Thank you. Just the same.”

Martin looked up, just for a moment, and met Jon’s gaze, letting the piercing erudite wood of it lay bare his fluttering heart.

“You’re welcome…”

Jon shifted in the beat of ensuing silence, his eyes flicking away from sky blue radiance to shift his shoulders back into a professional square.

“You uh, said you had a file for me?”

“Oh! Yes! Right! I-I will go fetch that file for you indeed and uh-! Oh yeah! Make sure you snip off the ends of the stems a bit before you put them in water. Helps them last longer,” Martin offered, snapping out of his enchantment and already slinking backwards to the door, “Oh and also! When they start to go, I’ll show you how to press one in a book, so you can keep it, if you like!”

“I’d like that very much, actually.”

Martin smiled, nodded, and saluted awkwardly as he escaped Jon’s office and closed the door behind, leaving him in private to wait until he was sure no one would see. Once he was certain, he preciously gathered the tulips into his hands and brought them to his nose, breathing in the field bright scent of his very first bouquet from a secret admirer.

#the magnus archives #TMA #JonMartin #Jmart #jonathan sims #Martin Blackwood #crow writes #Ask drabble #Bowtiesandfireflies #A red tulip means a confession of love hurrhurr

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makeste · 4 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 294: A Half-Assed Escape

Previously on BnHA: Mirio was all “SURPRISE I’M BACK THANKS TO OUR RESIDENT SEVEN-YEAR-OLD WHO RECENTLY EARNED HER BACHELOR’S OF BEING A TOTAL BADASS.” Kacchan was all, “you know what, Dabi’s been trending long enough, time to remind the fandom what a real G looks like,” and he blasted his little bleeding body back into the fray and was all “FROM HERE ON OUT CALL ME DYNAMIGHT!!” Mirio was all, “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... oh, you’re serious,” and Kacchan was all “!!”, and so that’s the story of how my son got murdered twice in one day. Meanwhile in the Todoroki Drama Zone, Deku was all “STOP MURDERING MY FRIEND” and Dabi was all “THAT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS” and fandom had a whole big debate about Whether Or Not Dabi Trying To Murder Deku’s Friends And Mentors Is Any Of Deku’s Business, which went exactly how you think it went. Anyway, so then Deku yelled at Dabi, and Endeavor was all moved by his manly words and randomly went to go uppercut Machia in the chin. And, seeing as how the Momoserum finally chose that exact moment to kick in, Machia is now down for the count.

Today on BnHA: The Miriosquad handles the Nearly High End Noumus, freeing up Jeanist to jasphyxiate (okay that one doesn’t really work so well) the rest of the League. Compress is all “TIME FOR THIS MILD-MANNERED SIDE CHARACTER VILLAIN TO SHINE”, except that by “shine” what he actually means is “use his quirk to punch a literal hole right through his own ass to free himself.” The rest of the chapter is basically just a back and forth between him and Jeanist, with Jeanist trying to recapture him, and Compress repeatedly thwarting him by chopping more holes out of himself because HE’S FRESH OUT OF FUCKS, AND THE ONES AT THE STORE ARE ALL SOLD OUT, MOTHERFUCKERS. Anyway, so with Compress basically dying and all, Horikoshi is all “you know what that means”, and delivers a freshly-baked villain flashback revealing that Compress is a descendant of Harima Ouji, a.k.a. the Peerless Thief, a.k.a. some famous guy whom Gentle mentioned this one time for like two seconds back in the day. The chapter ends with Compress finally demasking himself and dumping Tomura back onto the ground, a.k.a. The Worst Possible Place For Tomura To Be. ( •﹏•)

WHY IS CRUST HERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD

-- OH WAIT, SHIT. OH

AIZAWAAAA you’re alive and receiving medical help thank GOD. HOW MANY EYES DO YOU HAVE. AND MIRKO!! HOW MANY LIMBS DO YOU HAVE, OMG

so is this Aizawa dreaming about Crust’s final moments, then?? jesus. with All Due Respect to Crust’s memory, does Aizawa not already have enough misplaced guilt on his conscience as it is?? “nope, we’re gonna keep piling it on. that’s all he is now. three limbs, an indeterminate number of eyes, sexy hair, and Guilt” well shit

motherfucker y’all really out here placing an oxygen mask on Gran Torino’s corpse. fucking shounen characters. each one comes with a lifetime warranty

DAMN YOU HORIKOSHI WHY DO YOU KEEP SHOWING THESE CLOSE-UPS OF HAWKS’S UNCONSCIOUS FACE ALL WHUMPED OUT AND EXHAUSTED. HOW MUCH MORE OF THIS ARE WE GOING TO GET. ARE YOU PLANNING ON KILLING ME WITH THE UPCOMING CONVALESCENCE ARC, BECAUSE IF SO, AT LEAST HAVE THE DECENCY TO TELL ME AHEAD OF TIME SO I CAN MAKE A WILL

for a moment I considered going back and checking my previous recaps to count how many times I’ve already made a joke about Dabi’s fire incinerating Hawks’s wings but not touching so much as a hair on his five o’clock shadow, so that I could calculate whether or not I could possibly get away with making that same joke one more time. but then I realized I could just do it in this kind of roundabout way I’m doing right now instead. so there you have it

FFFFFFFMT LADY AND MIDNIGHT NOOOOO

PLEASE BE ALIVE. PLEASE RESPECT THE SIGN ON THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING. THE ONE THAT SAYS “NO LADY CHARACTERS ALLOWED TO DIE”, WITH THE FINE PRINT AT THE BOTTOM “AT LEAST NOT UNTIL HORIKOSHI GIVES US LIKE TWENTY-SIX MORE OF THEM FIRST IF THAT’S THE WAY HE WANTS TO PLAY IT.” IT’S A GOOD SIGN, PLEASE RESPECT ITS WISHES!!

so anyway though, Jeanist is giving a speech about how god knows how many people all worked together to bring Machia down. and now RHA is getting in on those fabric puns too, I see. “A SINGLE STRAND MAY BE THIN BUT TOGETHER THEY FORM A STRONG ROPE” oh so you think you guys are funny eh? I’m a frayed knot

MEANWHILE EXCUSE ME BUT WHY ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING BLOOD, HOLY SHIT

fffffff. so much for him taking over as the Number One once all this is over. so let’s just recap real quick, because Horikoshi has long since made it clear that one of his plot goals for this arc is to wipe out every single member of the Billboard Top Ten. so how we doin?

Endeavor - was just figuratively eviscerated in front of the entire nation by his homicidal zombiepunk son. also burnt half to death and possibly down a lung. will almost certainly be forced to retire after this one way or the other

Hawks - lying prettily in a medical tent. wings status: gone. hair status: still perfect

Jeanist - WELL I THOUGHT HE WAS FINE BUT APPARENTLY HE’S OUT HERE DYING, JESUS CHRIST

Edgeshot - MIA, last seen fighting Re-Destro. I really want him to have kicked RD’s ass because fuck that guy, but realistically they probably fought to a draw at best

Mirko - alive but in critical condition and missing something like 1.5 limbs

Crust - dead, currently haunting Aizawa’s traumatized dreams. now he’s gonna be triggered the rest of his life by people giving him the thumbs up, THANKS A LOT

Kamui Woods - was set on fire which is His Weakness. thoughts and prayers

Wash - last seen floating hospital patients to safety as Tomura’s wave of decay descended towards him. probably dead ffff

Old Man Samurai - haven’t seen this fucker in a hot minute, who even knows where he’s wandered off to

Ryuukyuu - currently being treated for her wounds, looked pretty bad off. but it’s hard to tell how hurt she is since most of the injuries were acquired in her transformed state. SHE BETTER GET WELL SOON

anyways, so yeah. so much for the top ten. guess that’s another reason Horikoshi brought Mirio back now, huh

so there’s a big panel of everyone fighting the Noumu while Machia lies there all “blurgh.” good riddance my dude. it took like twenty chapters and a hundred people to stop this guy so I really fucking hope he stays down. you’ve had your fun

anyway so Jeanist is sending another steel thread towards Dabi! and he’s all “just a bit more!!” fklklj this is gonna go real well isn’t it

meanwhile Mirio’s fighting a Nearly High End with all of these weird rock formations jutting out of its skin. go on and kick his ass then, Mirio

“each of these guys is probably just as strong as the Noumu from Kyuushuu” hold on I thought Ujiko or Tomura or someone said that wasn’t the case? not that Mirio would know I suppose. anyways let’s just hope he’s wrong cuz if not these kids are probably screwed

kLSDKFHLSKHGLKLK OH MY GODDDD

IIDA FUCKING TENYA YOU’RE A PEACH. THINKS THE NAME IS OUTRAGEOUS, CHECK. USES IT ANYWAY, CHECK. “JUST BECAUSE I DON’T UNDERSTAND DOESN’T MEAN I CAN’T BE SUPPORTIVE.” WHAT A CLASS ACT

AND KACCHAN IS RESPONDING WITH AS MUCH DIGNITY AS HE CAN MUSTER

WOW, SON. IT’S ALMOST AS THOUGH YOU HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO, OR SOMETHING!! although listen up, real talk, the fact that Kacchan of all people can’t muster the energy to yell at someone questioning his ability to kick ass is HIGHKEY troubling and we may be in need of an intervention here soon :/

now Jeanist is finally turning his attention to the League! was... was it not already on the League. omg

ACTUAL SCREAMING AHHHHHH FUCK FUCKLK LK AHHLKHKFFFF

hey so um. what the actual fucked up hell. my soul left my body. imagine if you saw the reflection of this panel on your bedroom window. you would never sleep again

OKAY RHA TRANSLATORS ARE YOU HAVING YOURSELF A LAUGH AGAIN

THIS CANNOT BE WHAT HE’S ACTUALLY SAYING RIGHT. BUT IT’S RIGHT IN THAT UNCANNY VALLEY OF NOT BEING QUITE SURE, THOUGH... (　ﾟдﾟ)

(ETA: just a next-day clarification here, apparently my sleep-deprived ADHD word-skipping brain completely skipped right over the “a” in that last panel, so what I read was, “and Shigaraki’s limp noodle.” so yeah, the moral of this story is always read the speech bubble carefully before you start making running jokes throughout the rest of your post, folks.)

oh wow he’s really freaking out lmao

to be fair though, I’d argue that Dabi has gotten pre-tty close at this point :’) thrilled for him, really I am

but anyway, well then figure something out you big dramatic robot-armed fiend. didn’t you just say you could touch your own ass? can you not just Compress yourself to break free?? does it not work on you? or would you be stuck afterwards lol

(ETA: I was picturing him compressing his entire body at once, not just chunks of it. ghhhlkh.)

holy shit Jeanist. are you stupidly trying to cut off their air, or are you going for more of a sleeper hold (jleeper hold??) thing instead. the latter would be way smarter and faster and probably safer as well just saying

but unless Spinner is just being super dramatic, it sure looks like he’s fucking strangling them djslkjlk. this will certainly cement his popularity among the villain stans. good thing you’re not running for office any time soon bud

anyway so I have no idea what these guys are trying to do now. what is this

do you even have till the count of 5 at this rate. I mean

OH MY GOODNESS

HE’S REALLY FUCKING DOING IT!! HE’S COMPRESSING HIS BUTT!! OMFG. TOMURA HIDE YOUR NOODLE!!!

WHAT THE FUCK

DID YOU COMPRESS A PIECE OF YOUR OWN ASS. FUCKING WHAT. PUT THIS MAN’S PICTURE IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE WORD “LOYALTY”, HOLY CRAP

HOLY SHIT COMPRESS

“HOLY SHIT DID THAT GUY JUST PUNCH A HOLE THROUGH HIS OWN ASS IN ORDER TO SAVE HIS VILLAIN PALS. FUCK IT, HE DESERVES TO ESCAPE”

jeez, talk about... A HALF-ASSED ESCAPE ATTEMPT :D :D :D hahaha. but real talk though, Horikoshi has clearly never tried to leap twelve feet straight up in the air multiple times in succession with only half his glutes though. everyone, I regret to inform you that this panel right here on the left may be slightly unrealistic

also where the hell is he going to go?? did you pack a jetpack away in one of those little marbles sir. and what about Dabi?? and Skeptic too, I guess, but we don’t really care about Skeptic

(ETA: at this point I had to stop reading for about two hours because I had to go out and take care of something; that’s also why this is being posted later than usual lol. anyways so where were we.)

oh my lord

the existence of a translator’s note here implies that the earlier line about Compress being able to reach Tomura’s junk was not, in fact, ad-libbed. hmm. hmmmmmmmm

anyway so now he’s grabbing Compress again because OF COURSE HE IS, so now we’re right back to square one! except now Tomura and Spinner are secured inside of little marbles, and presumably Compress is the only one who can release them

oh nevermind he’s just maiming himself again instead, SHEESH

Skeptic a man is dying please have some goddamn respect

so, uh. is he gonna die, though??

I really can’t tell wtf is going on here, this is the most confusing the art has been in a while. Horikoshi put all of his spoons into that creepyass close-up panel earlier, that bastard

OMG WHAT ARE YOU SERIOUS

DON’T FUCKING TELL ME THE “COMPRESS IS RELATED TO THIS THIEF GUY FROM OLDEN TIMES” THEORY IS ACTUALLY TRUE WHAAAAAAT. OH SHIT

so apparently Harima was a Robin Hood type guy who stole from... heroes?? wtf. are heroes the 1% in this scenario. y’all didn’t have any Fortune 500 CEOs to steal from?

THAT’S THE BLOOD THAT FLOWS THROUGH YOU, OH SHIT. and in a related oh shit, the fact that we are getting a Compress flashback now of all times doesn’t bode super well for him. ffff

MEANWHILE THE TODOROKIS ARE STILL TODOROKI-ING

listen here boy if you touch one freaking hair on Shouto’s candy cane head I swear to god --

WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY!!!

SHOUTO NOOOOOO. WTF YOU’RE LITERALLY THE ONE GUY WHOSE WEAKNESS IS ABSOLUTELY NOT SUPPOSED TO BE FIRE. DABI YOU SHIT, YOU BETTER WATCH YOURSELF!! I’M PRINTING OUT A COPY OF THAT COMPRESS PANEL!!! KEEP AN EYE OUT ON THAT BEDROOM WINDOW YOU PUNK!!!

SO NOW POOR SHOUTO IS UNCONSCIOUS AND FALLING!! SOMEONE SAVE HIM!! WHO CATCHES THE CATCHER

COMPRESS LITERALLY HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE RIGHT NOW, WHAT IS HAPPENING

PLEASE DON’T CALL TOMURA LEADER OF THE “PLF” YOU KNOW I CAN’T TAKE IT SERIOUSLY WHEN YOU DO THAT. ARE YOU DYING. ARE YOU JUST A FUCKING HEAD NOW WTF

(ETA: “masks are removable, makeste” you know what it’s been a long day okay lmao. or I suppose Compress is really the one who is lmao.)

GASPPPPPP

okay. okay. looooool okay then

WHY WERE YOU COVERING THIS SEXY MOP OF HAIR UNDER THAT HOOD YOU TOOL. IT WOULD HAVE LOOKED SO GOOD WITH THE TOP HAT. I’M SO MAD AT YOU RIGHT NOW

as if it wasn’t enough for him to demask himself, he also had to get all shirtless and then do this weird attempt at a sexypose too huh

hard to say exactly how much of his torso is currently missing, but safe to say that’s proooooooobably not good. :///// fuck

on the other hand, Kacchan also has a torso hole and he’s still flying around like he just drank a dozen red bulls, so

this man lost his ass and he’s still out here monologuing like it’s the last two minutes of The Prestige. one might say he is monologuing his ass off

so he let Spinner and Tomura free, but is Dabi still trapped in his marble?? wasn’t he all on fire and stuff?? hopefully he can still turn off his quirk in there because if not that’s a pretty fucked up way to die. somewhere out there Snatch’s ghost is all “YEAH I’LL SAY.” oh how the turntables

last but not least, sooooooo. Tomura. back on the ground. that’s. um. ...shiiiiiiiit

#bnha 294 #mr. compress #...and actually that's pretty much it lol #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #sorry this is up later than usual (and mostly unedited as well)#just one of those days

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inviberu · 3 years ago

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music box

Confessing was no easy thing, especially for someone like Heath who could barely take a compliment without his cheeks burning red. When someone suggested he should give a gift instead, the gears inside his head started to turn. The most beautiful gift of all is one that comes from the bottom of one's heart—the question is: what was it?

Heath didn't know how to express his feelings without getting too many butterflies in his stomach to the point that he has to bend over to calm himself down or without tripping over his words and forgetting everything he planned to say. His cheeks would flare up and he would tear his gaze away from your figure as he told himself inside his head: "Not today, maybe not tomorrow either…."

Faust could barely stand the way Heath kept on backing out at the last minute during his decisions to finally confess his feelings. Faust pushed up his glasses and crossed his arms with a stern look on his face as he sighed. Heath sat up straighter, hoping that Faust wasn't about to scold him about something related to missions, unaware that Faust called him to his room to talk about more… personal matters instead of their line of work.

"I know there's a lot of stuff going on inside your head, but you shouldn't let it affect you when you're doing missions." Every word that came from Faust's lips was a lie to disguise his genuine concern for his student—roundabout, as a lot of Eastern folk are. Upon seeing Heath's face contort into one of slight panic, Faust immediately followed up with a question: "What is it that's bothering you anyway?"

Another lie. Faust already knew well what the source of Heath's worries is but he'd rather have Heath be unaware of the fact that he's been paying attention to him. Heath glanced down, a light hue of pink dusting his cheeks and Faust could already tell what this was about even if he hadn't known about Heath's countless attempts to confess to you before.

"Faust-sensei… do you know how to confess to someone?" Heath's unexpected question caught Faust off guard, his eyes widening in surprise before letting out a small cough after regaining his composure.

"C-Confess?" Faust tried his best to play dumb. "Like those love confessions?"

Heath nodded slowly, "I've been trying to confess to someone for a while now but… I keep on getting scared at the last minute. It's like the fear of being rejected suddenly walking up behind me and grabbing my shoulder."

"... You're a wonderful young man, Heath. I doubt there's anyone out there that would reject you" Faust closed his eyes as he tipped his hat slightly, trying his best to reassure him.

"Plus, you'll never know the answer unless you go for it." Faust chuckled, a smile forming on his face. Heath's eyes twinkled all of a sudden and felt his enthusiasm bounce back up as he grabbed Faust's hands into his own—Faust's expression slowly turning to one of discomfort.

"Then… Can you help me?" Heath asked hopefully.

"Me…?" Faust exclaimed, his glasses almost dropping down.

"W-Well only if you want to! I wouldn't dare force you to help me against your wishes..."

"I suppose I can try… I can't guarantee anything, of course." Faust agreed reluctantly and Heath beamed, his smile widening in happiness as he said his thanks to the Eastern teacher. "Well, first of all, if you find yourself unable to speak in front of them… don't you think there's a better alternative rather than confessing in person?"

After all this time, Heath had always tried to confess to you upfront and had never bothered to consider any other options until Faust brought it up. Heath wanted to curl up and bury himself six feet under at the sudden realization, feeling as if all this time spent was just used for needless worrying.

"Like a letter of sorts?" Heath asked carefully. Faust shook his head and merely answered his question vaguely.

"Something that comes from the heart." He pointed towards Heath's heart. "You're good at craftsmanship, aren't you? Why not make good use of that?"

A few days had already passed since Faust made that remark—living inside Heath's brain with no signs of leaving soon. A letter would've been easier but after taking it into more consideration, as well as Faust’s words, he decided to give it more thought. What was another alternative? A gift instead of a letter, perhaps? Heath ruffled his hair, deep in thought as he sat on one of the cushioned seats inside the lounge.

“Heathcliff?” A voice called out, snapping Heath out of his daze and adjusted his vision to the person in front of him—the northern wizard, White. Curiously, he asked, “is there something troubling you? Won’t you allow this old man to help if so?”

“Sir White… it’s nothing important, I appreciate the offer though.” Heath shook his head, trying to brush off White’s offer as politely as he could. White merely crossed his arms, nodding his head before a smug and knowing smile took over his face—as if he already knew what was troubling Heath without having him say anything.

“Ohoho… it’s about the matters of the heart, is it not?” Bullseye. Heath felt as if his heart was about to jump out of his chest, unable to hide the surprise evident in his expression. White didn’t wait for an answer, for he already knew he struck gold—he let out a laugh. “It’s written all over your face! A young man falling victim to love… is what your expression is saying.”

Heath covered his face by instinct, horrified at the newfound information that it was written all over his face. He wished he could keep a poker face like Lennox, perhaps that way he wouldn't be so easy to read—unaware that was precisely one of his charming points.

“Haha… is it that obvious?” Heath muttered weakly, burying his face into his palms and White only chuckled at the cute display. “Sir White, do you know of any good gifts fit for a confession?”

White rubbed his chin, deep in thought. A fitting gift for a love confession—one would normally think of something like flowers or sweets as if it was valentine's day, that was the textbook answer, though when White glanced at Heath and remembered his knack for machinery and the likes, he suddenly remembered of that one era that had a specific trend.

“It's a bit old fashioned but back in the day, music boxes were the trend. Why not make one with music that reminds you of your beloved? Wouldn't that be perfect for someone like you?” White beamed, smiling as if he gave a groundbreaking piece of advice. Heath’s eyes widened ever so slightly with his mouth agape as he thought about his words; music boxes were indeed old fashioned as you wouldn't see it normally these days.

“Me…? Make a music box?” He has never tried it before, especially not for a special someone, though he was confident he's able to make one if he tried.

“Ohoho, you’re good with machinery, are you not? Why not put those skills to use to make a heartfelt gift?” White nodded enthusiastically. Heath couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts, already trying to figure out how he was going to construct one—it seems like the young master has already figured out which gift he should give.

Heath spent his days holed up inside his room by his desk, materials sprawled all over with chunks of wood littered around after he had carved the finest wood he could get his hands on after returning to the East for a short while. A focused look adorning his face as he drowned out the noises surrounding him, immersed in his craft.

Countless music sheets were crumpled and thrown to the bin at the side which was overflowing with scrapped pieces—music pieces. Heath was no expert like Rustica when it came to music composition, he had left his seat several times to consult the Western Wizard in order to make sure the music wasn't disappointing and was able to convey his feelings, somehow.

He planned to leave the box and a note anonymously, though he already suspected it wasn't going to be very discreet as he started carving the box with the same carving he engraved into Shino’s magic tool. One look at it and you would be able to guess who did the carving, for it was named Blanchett for a reason.

He added the finishing touches, blowing the small particles of dust away that remained in the corners before opening the box as a sweet, soft melody started to play—its gears turning as it played music flawlessly. Heath smiled at the music box he created, proud. He put all of his feelings of adoration for you inside one box, only revealing itself if you decide to open it, akin to Pandora's box.

As if reciting his last prayer, he clutched it tightly as he muttered his spell under his breath before standing up and deciding to leave it by your doorstep—this time, he'll let you know of his feelings.

As he arrived at your doorstep, he quietly wished that you weren't inside your room because that would make things complicated as Heath already felt like he was doing something scandalous. His cheeks burned red as he quickly dropped the music box as well as a small note before knocking once and scurrying off back to his room where he could finally put his mind to rest.

You opened the door, greeted by no one but a mysterious box and a small note that didn't indicate whoever sent it to you for there was no name. Without much hesitation, you picked it and inspected it—the intricate design catching you off guard as you recognized it as the same one present in Shino’s magical tool. And the one who made it was none other than Heath himself, that only meant one thing—Heath was behind this mysterious set-up. You felt your chest bubble up in excitement, an uncontrollable smile forming in your face as you felt giddy.

You opened the note, it read: For you have captured my heart, I offer this gift to you.

You felt your heart leap at the words you read, scanning it once again to make sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you, cheeks heating up as you realized what this meant. You quickly opened the box, not expecting a few blue butterflies to come out and fly around you as a soft melody played from it—a music box Heath made just for you. You could feel his magic from the box, did he imbue his magic? You suspected as much.

The longer you listened to the music, the more you felt like running to his room to tell him you felt the same way. There wasn't a single thing stopping you from doing so. With a determined look on your face, you started heading towards his room. Fortunately, you saw him walking in the hall, it seems like he hasn't arrived in his room yet.

You took the opportunity to jump at him, his arms instinctively wrapping themselves around you, panic was written all over his face when he realized it was you who threw themselves at him. With the proximity between the two of you, you placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. His heart felt like it was about to explode.

“W-What are you doing!?” He grabbed you by the shoulders and tried to push you away in an attempt to calm his racing heart. You smirked as you felt like teasing him more, though the huge smile on your face was unfitting as you told him:

“You could've told me in person… but, I like you too, silly!”

#mhyk #mhyk writing #my writing #promise of wizard #mhyk x reader #heathcliff blanchett x reader #promise of wizard heathcliff #heathcliff blanchett #mhyk heathcliff #heathcliff x reader #heath x reader #no beta we die like white

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lambden · 3 years ago

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What better way to break in a new blog than by immediately posting fic? In honour of Nightmare of the Wolf, here’s some Vesemir and Filavandrel!

(read on AO3)

M, 2.9K words, no warnings, Vesemir recognizes Jaskier’s lute when he arrives at Kaer Morhen

Vesemir has been expecting this day for decades. It’s rare for witchers to meet a trusted companion out on the Path, and even rarer to find one who wishes to travel alongside them. But the reputation of witchers has changed in recent years, for better or worse. Their focus is no longer on maintaining the traditional practices of their schools, but on protection— of other witchers, and of helpless commoners. Perhaps the humans can sense that change.

More curiously, the folklore surrounding witchers has changed. Vesemir very badly wants to meet the man who has done so much to change the narrative, but years pass and all Geralt brings home every winter are stories. The younger witchers entertain (and tease) him but no one ever asks where the bard goes during the cold months that Geralt spends at Kaer Morhen. Perhaps even Geralt doesn’t know.

Finally, after hundreds of stories of Geralt-and-Dandelion, Vesemir receives a letter one autumn before he himself has even considered the journey home. His chest warms as he reads Geralt’s careful penmanship, noting how the ink blots at the start of each new sentence. The paper and wax are fine, suggesting that Jaskier used his academic connections to perhaps land Geralt a few contracts near Oxenfurt. Geralt’s lettering may be nearly flawless but his message is stilted, reminding Vesemir of when his pups were nervous children. Does Jaskier really make him act this awkward? Their relationship must be serious, then.

I am hoping you will welcome my guest with open arms, or I fear he may freeze over the coming months. Vesemir looks for a signature but there is none, save a very fancy G at the bottom. No returning address has been provided either, and while he could easily pen a missive to Oxenfurt, it’s probably best not to respond. Each day Nilfgaard only grows stronger, and crueler. Perhaps Jaskier has been caught up in their hunger for power. Vesemir folds the letter up and hides it in his saddlebag.

When the frost begins creeping in, the oldest Wolf begins his trek up the mountain. He’s almost always the first one to arrive; Coën had beaten him to it once and apologized for weeks, and Vesemir would do anything to avoid that again. And if he makes an effort to arrive early this year so that he can make the Keep look as important as it is, well… nobody needs to know.

It takes a week and a half before Geralt arrives, Jaskier in tow. Vesemir spends the time flushing out a bat infestation and dealing with the most perishable of his spoils from the past year. The White Wolf seems to bring the cold with him most years but Vesemir, cognizant of Jaskier’s inferior body, made sure to set out enough furs in advance. As soon as he hears Roach’s hooves approaching he starts a roaring fire, and when the inner doors of Kaer Morhen burst open, Vesemir is ready to make a great first impression.

Upon seeing him, Geralt smiles right away, crossing the room to greet him. Vesemir looks him over; no obvious new scars, no missing body parts. Must have been an uneventful year, but… Geralt is here, safe and alive, so Vesemir allows himself some private, selfish, unwitcherly joy. It’s the sort of thing Deglan would have lectured him for. He finds he doesn’t care.

“I got your letter,” he tells Geralt, who nods solemnly. “I thought it best not to reply. Is Nilfgaard on your trail?”

“Our trail,” Geralt sighs, stepping aside so that Vesemir can meet his companion. “Vesemir, this is Jaskier.”

The bard, dwarfed by a large fur coat, moves forward so that Vesemir can properly scrutinize him. He certainly doesn’t look his age, but Vesemir knows he’s travelled as far as any witcher has gone, and seen sights no human should really have witnessed. “Oh, I’ve heard plenty about you, Jaskier. I was wondering when Geralt was finally going to bring you along for the winter!” That makes Jaskier perk up, and Vesemir chuckles. “I promise that no harm will come to you here.”

“Thank you,” Jaskier says. “Geralt doesn’t like sharing much about the other witchers, but I’m sure you must have a wealth of stories for me to hear!” Sure enough, Geralt frowns. “And I don’t know how much help I’ll be with hunting or gathering, but I would be happy to regale you on the coldest nights—”

And before Vesemir can read into that unfortunate phrasing, Jaskier shrugs off his fur coat to produce a lute. He must have been wearing it strapped around his front on the journey through the mountains, not wanting to condemn such a fine instrument to being jostled around in Roach’s saddlebags. Vesemir squints at the red-brown wood and the golden details under the strings. They almost look like a particular elven design.

Oh. Vesemir’s realization nearly bowls him over. Geralt and Jaskier stare at him, respectively concerned and curious, but Vesemir can’t take his eyes off the lute. “My apologies, I… I forgot something in my chamber. Make yourselves at home, and… I’ll leave you to it.” He leaves without any further explanation, hastening to his quarters and abandoning the pair of them to their own devices. He can still feel their gazes drilling into his back but he suddenly feels weaker than usual.

---

“I heard there was a witcher skulking around this forest,” the spy says. Vesemir is almost relieved to hear them speak; he’s been glancing over his shoulder for nearly an hour now to try and reveal an invisible pursuer. He should’ve known he was right. Just because the spy doesn’t lumber like a human or reek of magic like a monster doesn’t mean he won’t be in trouble.

He stops in the middle of the path, still facing forward. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that the second he turns, a very unfriendly knife is going to introduce itself to his ribcage. Or perhaps an arrow, although he hasn’t heard the sound of anything and he’s been listening very closely.

His pursuer approaches. Fuck, they’re light on their feet. If Vesemir was just an average bandit, he’d be done for. He braces himself for an attack, balling his hands up into fists at his sides. The stranger continues, tone still pleasant enough, “Why not stay in town? A warm bed must beat trudging through mud in the early hours of the morning trying to find ground. I’ll give you some advice, witcher; there’s no dry ground. You’re heading towards a swamp.”

“They wouldn’t let me stay in town,” Vesemir admits, already grumpy. He whirls around and sees the stranger; a lean man, just slightly shorter than him. The long hood of their cloak casts a dark shadow over their face, blocking them from view. “If you’re here to rob me, I hate to disappoint, but you’ve followed me all this way for nothing.”

He holds up his empty coinpurse; not to prove himself, just to complain. The stranger titters, a lovely, high-pitched sound like glass clinking against glass, like chimes. Like birdsong. Vesemir’s eyes narrow. “That’s a shame,” they say. “You do love coin.”

There’s something disturbingly familiar about the words. Vesemir decides to gamble with his own life, stalking forward until he’s face to face with the stranger. Up close, his scent is even stronger. Frowning, Vesemir is about to reveal the man’s identity when he does it himself, pushing his hood back. His hair is tied up in complex braids unlike any Vesemir has ever seen, only a few loose strands hanging down over his forehead. But it would take more than a lifetime for Vesemir to forget that face.

“Fil,” he declares, delighted, and doesn’t think twice before crashing into the elf. Filavandrel laughs again and though it makes Vesemir feel a little silly, the sound still fills his heart with joy. He embraces his friend tightly, clinging to him for so long that both their boots sink down into the flooded dark soil of the forest. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s like I told you.” The elf pats the back of Vesemir’s neck, unwittingly sending a shiver down his spine. Vesemir’s grip tightens. “My scouts said I might find a witcher lost in the woods.”

“I’m not lost,” Vesemir grunts, finally pulling away. “I just… don’t know where I’m going.”

“Come to my camp,” suggests Filavandrel. As if he even had to ask.

Unsurprisingly, elves make their camps much differently than witchers do. When they arrive Vesemir doesn’t immediately see any sort of bedroll, and then he feels embarrassed for looking. He never feels this way around anyone else; he can make bawdy jokes with Sven or blatantly hit on Luka, but in the company of Filavandrel aén Fidháil, shame bursts through him so easily.

Maybe he just has a thing for pretty blondes who he leaves behind.

Except Fil is here, smiling indulgently as Vesemir gapes like a fool. “It’s nice,” he finally manages to say. “Want me to set a fire?”

“A campfire, sure. Not a big one,” Filavandrel teases. Swallowing, Vesemir turns to a firepit that the elf must have fashioned himself. He takes a bundle of wood that’s already been cut and easily ignites it, all the while trying to figure out why his heart is pounding so damn loud. Thank fuck that Filavandrel isn’t a witcher.

“Have you eaten?”

“No. You?”

“I was going to have some bread, and go hunting in the morning.” There’s a small noise and when Vesemir turns to look, his friend is holding out a large chunk of bread. It doesn’t even look that stale. Vesemir sees that Filavandrel has taken a much smaller piece for himself and growls about it, but the elf snatches the smaller piece away before Vesemir can lunge for it. “I don’t want to hear any self-sacrificial bullshit about how witchers don’t need to eat. Take the damn bread, Ves.”

“... Fine,” Vesemir relents, cowed. He accepts the bread, fingertips accidentally brushing over Filavandrel’s when he takes it. It’s fucking delicious, melting in his mouth almost instantly. Seeds and herbs have been baked into it too, and Vesemir savours every bite, moaning. “You should quit being a professional elf and start a new life as a baker, fuck.”

“I can do both. It’s an old recipe, needs a stone oven. And what does being a professional elf even mean?” Filavandrel reaches up to shove him, except they aren’t very far away from each other so the push nearly knocks Vesemir off his balance. Before he can tip over onto the grass Filavandrel grabs him by the collar of his gambeson and tugs him back, and, well. Vesemir may be a witcher, but parts of him are still human.

Neither of them has to say a word; he opens for Filavandrel like he’s been thinking of nothing but this since the second they laid eyes on each other. Honestly, he sort of has. Fil runs a hand over the shaved part of his head, pressing his palm against the back of his neck to pull him in closer. Vesemir moans, chasing the taste of something sweet and acidic and magic. It certainly isn’t the fucking bread.

Afterwards they lie together by the smoldering remains of the fire, both too spent to clean themselves or dress. Vesemir glances over at the cinders and thinks about making an exit soon. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to stay with Filavandrel. He’s comfortable here, especially right now, and his friend always makes his heart feel lighter. But the Path calls to him; lying here without his weapons or armour, Vesemir can nearly hear Deglan’s scolding. And that thought is enough to ruin anyone’s afterglow.

Before he can move, Filavandrel sits up, arching his back. Vesemir turns to watch him, nearly salivating at how he looks in the low firelight. His hair is radiant, and his skin isn’t nearly flushed enough. He’s beautiful. Ethereal. Selfishly, Vesemir wishes that he’d left more marks.

Fil climbs to his feet and crosses the campsite to retrieve something out of reach. Vesemir cranes his neck to try and peek, and Filavandrel laughs kindly at him. “I was just thinking that something’s missing.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Vesemir says, lowering his head back down onto the ground. “I should have kissed you more.”

The elf pauses at that before finally demanding, “Kiss me later.” A note resounds through the air, clear and beautiful; then a chord, and another. Very soon their little clearing feels more like a fairy circle than a campground as Filavandrel plays music.

He finally walks into view, still naked, still beautiful. Now holding a lute. Vesemir tries to sit up so that he can properly see the performance but Filavandrel is faster, moving over him and then sitting atop his stomach, resting his back against Vesemir’s thighs. He plays the entire time, fingers moving adeptly over the instrument.

It’s a beautiful lute, probably made of some holy dark red wood. The golden design etched into it is mesmerizing, and the strings could have been plucked from the mane of a unicorn. Vesemir hardly spares it any attention, too wrapped up in the sight of a naked Filavandrel straddling him and singing.

He’ll only realize decades later that the elf was probably trying to court him.

Someone knocks on the door to his chambers and Vesemir jumps to his feet, caught off-guard by the sound that plucked him from his memories. He finds Jaskier waiting outside his room, toying idly with the sleeves of his doublet. Vesemir shakes his head, holding the door open for Jaskier even as he apologizes. “I’m sorry for running out earlier. I meant to give you a tour of the Keep, hopefully Geralt will have stepped up in my absence, but I am sorry—”

“No— please,” Jaskier interrupts. Once more he pulls his lute from around himself, holding it out to Vesemir. “I just… Your countenance changed dramatically upon seeing this, so…”

Fuck. “Yes,” Vesemir sighs, staring at the lute. Jaskier has managed to keep it in good condition after all this time. “I… Filavandrel and I are old friends.”

The bard’s eyes bulge out of his head but he enters Vesemir’s chambers, heading straight to the desk to perch on the edge of the chair. Vesemir finds another chair for himself, moving its previous occupant— a stack of books— onto the floor. In his defence, he hadn’t expected the tour of Kaer Morhen to begin in his personal chambers.

“He didn’t mention knowing any other witchers,” Jaskier hums. “How did you meet him?”

“You’re sure you want to know? It’s sort of a long story.” The bard just nods, eager and polite. Instantly Vesemir can see why Geralt likes him. “Alright,” he obliges, reaching for the bottle of wine on the desk. They’re going to need it. “We met long before you would have been born…”

---

South of Kaedwen, the seasons are more aligned than any other part of the Continent. The winters are crisp, the summers lazy. Filavandrel likes to spend his summers here, where the canopy of trees is thick enough to provide shade but thin enough to provide colour. Everything is verdant, the flowers calling to him as he passes each one. When he was a child he had longed to visit towns and experience human delights like festivals but now he knows better. The elves live off the land well enough anyway.

Some of the younger people in his company these days have that same yearning, and some of them even manage it. One elf who resembles Toruviel always runs off to see some different show, take in some new performance. If Filavandrel thought that she could get away with it, he would pay for her to attend Oxenfurt— she’s very good. And the upside of her risking her life just to listen to music is that she’s got a very good memory, and she always brings the songs back home.

Today she’s singing some new ode to a witcher; not that bigoted anthem of lies that the bastard warbler from Posada somehow spread through the Continent, thank the Gods. This one seems to revolve more around making the right choice, and how a real hero does good deeds not for coin or his own profit, but just to be good. Filavandrel thinks about the few witchers that he’s had the misfortune of contacting over the years, and under his breath he scoffs.

Cheesy chorus aside, the lyrics seem to have some merit. The first verse is all about some terrible monster that was taking young girls, transforming them into half-beasts. The hero witcher’s judgement fails him and he blames himself for years, even losing a lover in the process. Filavandrel scowls; despite his own experiences with witches, he doesn’t want to listen to a song written by yet another prejudiced bard.

Then the third verse lands. The witcher grows old and wise and has children of his own, and he regrets his inaction and he tries to reach out to contact his lover. But at that point his lover, who devoted his life to protecting those in danger, was too busy being King of the Silver Towers. Filavandrel stops dead in his tracks as he realizes which witcher this must have been inspired by.

The elven king huffs, starting to compose a route in his head. He thinks a trip up north is long overdue.

#vesemir #filavandrel #nightmare of the wolf #the witcher nightmare of the wolf #geraskier fic #my writing #hey did anyone else see young vesemir talking to his friend fil in the bath and think we were gonna get a Bath Scene Part Two: The Remix?

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